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nichuuu · 3 months

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Scatterbrain

Word count: 18k+

They say it takes a village to raise a child.

To raise a girl as fine as Jang Wonyoung, you’d probably need 3 whole villages.

Two of those three villages would be used to train the way she walks because it’s perfect: classy, poised, elegant. The other one would have to work on her outfits because god would she need those. Hopefully the village doesn’t operate a Shein style manufacturing line. She’d hate that.

Her face is the definition of “striking the gene pool lottery”, and so is the rest of her body. Lanky arms and legs; toned, slim tummy; big, bright eyes that glimmer under the flashing lights. Personally, you like her “you’re on camera” smile the most. She knows this, and she always makes it a point to shoot it your way as she struts towards you. She stops half way to get a flute of Champagne, make that two actually, then grabs another. Those long legs can cover one hell of a distance, and they bring her right to you in a matter of seconds.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she hands you the Champagne flute in her left hand, and the rings on it shine in the light, “cause it’s starting to feel like you’re just stalking me now.”

Of course, it’s the snarky remarks that open the conversation. Jang Wonyoung, airheaded as ever m’lady, and you sip on the Bubbly that she’s very nicely delivered to you. Wonyoung is, of course, a little bit of an airhead in your books (only because she believes that you’re always there for her, nothing else), and it’s never not hilarious to watch her draw her lips into a thin line. It’s not the first time she’s hearing this from you; it certainly won’t be the last. You can’t control where you’re posted to, but you know for a fact that you’ll see her again a couple months down the road.

Cause your meetings with Jang Wonyoung are through pure serendipity really, and you certainly will start calling it that after you read that one story. You know: the one where this guy cheats on his idol girlfriend, who he has a tense relationship with, with another idol that he happens to meet just about everywhere. There’s 0 communication between the two of you when these types of events come around, and neither of you know if either of you will be there or not. Actually, it’s just you really; neither of you know if you will be there.

“Here for Kwon Eunbi again? Or are you finding someone else?” This question of her’s is customary at this point. Never once has it been perfunctory.

“Well, I was actually here to try and catch an interview with Jo Yuri, but I guess you’ll do,” you reply. Wonyoung scoffs—so I’m second place then?—and you have to assuage her oh-so-damaged ego, “you’re making this inference on your own Princess. I never said anything remotely close to that.”

And it’s that smile on her face that makes you want to kiss her really. It’s gorgeous, it’s cute, it’s beautiful. She’s given you that damned smile so many times that you could probably draw it from memory, though you’d definitely butcher it. The dress is certainly doing it justice, and you watch it brush against the skin of her legs as she shifts her weight to the other foot. I’ve never been that good at inferences. You’re far better than me, Prince, and she’s playing with her hair: twirling and untwirling it around her finger. That ribbon atop her head… Her stylist certainly knows their stuff.

“Think I’ll win an award this year?” Her question draws you away from your thorough examination of her. You take a moment to think, and you have to say, it depends, but I think you could definitely get something in some category. She gives you this inscrutable look, and she’s chuckling to herself as she looks at the crowd and sips on her champagne. You can guess what she’s about to say next: quite the crowd today, huh? And you’d reply, “Don’t think that they’re all here for you”, and that would prompt her to shoot back with, “Then who are they here for? You?”.

But of course, when do things ever go according to plan?

“Have you thought about my offer?” she asks, and you’re caught off guard.

Cause here’s the history between you two: Middle school best friends, always kind of inseparable. She was the beauty queen, it girl, and she still is; you were the writer, head of the school magazine, and you’re pretty much writing for the rest of your life. Wherever you went with her, rumours followed—Are they dating? I think they’re just friends. Maybe she’s trying to be the front of the magazine?—but you never thought much of it. It was just a simple friendship to you, nothing more.

Then the kiss she gave you in high school changed it all.

It was a party, hosted by one of your mutual friends. She kissed you, and no, it wasn’t a Spin The Bottle forfeit, nor was it a dare of any sort; it was a sincere, tender kiss in the garden—unprompted, and away from any prying eyes and soft like silk chiffon. You have to admit, the sensation had your brain mired for a minute or so. But when you came back to your senses, you kissed her right back, and things got complicated after that.

No one knew of it; it was your little secret. Wonyoung became closer than ever, and next thing you know, she declares the two of you “exclusive” but not dating. It’s because her agency has that funky dating ban thing, and Wonyoung was desperate to find a loophole, albeit a little complex. Of course, you’re willing to stay “exclusive” with Wonyoung in secret, but you started to worry that it can’t stay this way for long after the two of you get out of high school.

But as fate would have it, your career paths meet at the crossroads, and now you see her every other month or so. You still text her when you can, and the “exclusive” relationship has sustained. Now that she’s an adult and she’s bringing in mad bucks for the agency, she’s informed you of some changes in her contact. From there, the offer was birthed, and you have left it unchecked for the past four months or so, “grey ticked” as she liked to call it.

“You haven’t texted in a while, thought you died,” she continues, leaning on her elbows against the table. “Thank god you’re alive, huh?”

You hoped that she’d just forget about it, but she’s more of a mnemonist than you give her credit for. An award show is the last place you expected to be caught off guard by Jang Wonyoung, but she’s definitely a master of surprise. I uh… I haven’t really thought about it, is a lie you tell her and yourself. She smiles enigmatically, downs the rest of her Champagne.

“Let’s talk about it tonight,” she touches your chest, and it’s soft like silk chiffon, “you know where to find me, Prince.”

She struts off to join the rest of her members, stops halfway to return her Champagne flute, then looks back at you over her shoulder to give you a small wave. You sip on your Champagne as the silk brushes against her skin.

It’s a heavy breath that leaves your mouth, and it’s the rest of the Champagne that goes in.

302.

Gold lettering, black plaque. It’s grand, pretty elegant. Suits her well.

Then the door opens.

In her bathrobe, Jang Wonyoung shoots her “you’re on camera” smile. You’re earlier than expected—she lets you in—Matter of fact, I thought you might not show at all.

And it’s a must to quip back, “thought you’d be asleep by now you big baby.”

When the door closes, it’s straight to work, and here’s how that normally goes: kissing, undressing, foreplay, then finally—fucking. Not that it has to follow that order or anything, but it’s the unspoken schedule that Wonyoung’s written up. God forbid anyone goes against what the princess is comfortable with, not that you’d ever try to either way. Your voice is barely a mumble past her lips—aren’t we supposed to talk about something?—and Wonyoung’s quick to dismiss any queries, “later. There’s always time for it later”.

So it’s the kiss that’s pulling you back into her. Her front teeth capture your bottom lip, pull, drags it back a little like she’s trying to unwrap you like a present. You hold her waist, and with gentle hands, you push her back against the wall. It’s not that you’re trying to get control or anything; you’re just attempting to give her something to work with, a place to rest as she starts to work on the buttons of your shirt.

“Are you already naked underneath that?” you whisper, though it’s more of a drawl than a whisper. In response, she momentarily stops with your buttons to slide a section of her bathrobe away, giving you a good look at a column of her naked, milky skin.

In short: Yes, she is very much naked under that robe.

“Don’t get distracted, my prince. Eyes up here.”

“You’re the one that made me look, princess.”

She’s evidently struggling with the last button of your shirt, and you have to let go of her for a moment to help her get it done. Then it’s off with the shirt, and she flings it against the door for convenience sake. Your belt’s next, and that’s taken care of before you can even say, let me undress you Princess. It does make her hesitate at the clasp of your trousers for a bit. Just for a bit.

“I’d like,” her fingers are moving again, and they’re awfully quick at unfastening your pants, “for you to unwrap me on the bed instead.”

How raunchy of her. Makes you want to try her on.

Your pants fall. Your hand slithers into the bathrobe. Her jaw drops. Wonyoung my darling, and your fingers have captured one of those perky breasts, the right one to be exact. How do you ever—it’s light pressure to the nipple for you; it’s mind melting for her—get away with being such a big slut? Look at you, I’m barely even squeezing here. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes wide, mouth agape and her chin tucked into her neck. Frame it up, take a step back, admire it. It’s the face of someone who’s pent up, the expression of a needy girl who’s been aching to get some dick. Maybe if you guys had met a little sooner, she wouldn’t be this sensitive. But now? A twist of your forefinger and thumb is all it takes to draw a cry out of her, a little more pressure is enough to rain hellfire upon her. What a crazy-hot mess she is; only god knows how to clean her up and get her sorted out.

Open mouth straight to your ear, Wonyoung lets out a breathy gasp. In your fingers, the stiff peak rolls between the pads—back, forth, back, forth: motions that make her weak in her knees. It’s with great effort that she pulls your face back to hers, captures you in her quivering lips. Elegance has long been thrown out the window by now, and it’s not going to be returning for quite some time, as if you ever need it at a time like this. She’s barely holding herself up at this point. Where did the prim proper Jang Wonyoung go?

The answer’s in her kiss—gone, dusted, she was here just a minute ago though. She’s grasping at whatever inch of your skin she can find, and her nails are definitely gonna be leaving marks on the sides of your neck. You let out a small, wry laugh as you silently observe her behaviour, watching her implore without speaking, badger without requesting. It’s an art form really, the form of expression for the horny and desperate and bratty. When her hands grip your face and her nails sink into your cheek, you pinch a little harder and relish the pleasant vibrations that are sent into your mouth as she gasps. Her palms press into your jaw, and they’d probably crush it if you press any harder. Her feet patter against the wood as she starts to direct you to the bed. You kick off your shoes together with your pants.

It’s definitely a sight to take in: Jang Wonyoung in a massive king size bed, a thin bathrobe being the only thing between you and that wonderful body being the bathrobe. Maybe if she wasn’t in this state she’s in, she’d gesture to you with a come hither motion, and invite you to remove the fabric from her body. Instead, she opts for a spine tingling mewl, and that’s your invitation to her body. It’s hardly an insinuation; the fact that she wants to be unwrapped like a present is undeniable, she used the word unwrap herself. The bunny knot holding the two pieces of fabric is symmetrical—has Wonyoung’s fingerprints all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s watching you with a half-open mouth, maybe you’d compliment her on her efforts a little, maybe even call her “princess” a couple more times before you properly ruin her.

(But she’s already ruined, ruined by a mere bit of pressure to the nipple. What else can make her tick now?)

Her body is at your mercy and it, quite literally, jerks as you start to pull at the knot, undoing it centimetre by centimetre, millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch. You want to see how long she can watch for, how long she can witness herself be undressed in a painfully slow fashion. Needy as she is, she’s patient as she watches one end of the rope grow longer.

Longer.

“Do you want me to speed this up, baby?” The smirk on your face would earn you a pout from her if her nerves weren’t in a bundle at the given moment.

“W-Whatever you want,” she answers, and her voice is brimming with breathy arousal. How are you getting away with all this? She’d grab your wrist and pull by now if she wasn’t so damn needy right now.

You give a dry laugh. “Then I’ll keep at this then.”

Longer.

“Fuck. Just pull it all the way already.” She looks you right in the eye as she begs you to hurry, and now you can see the need brimming in those large, round eyes, the ones that stare back at you with soft intensity, if that’s even possible. She’s good at mixing emotions into her stare.

“I thought you said—”

“Just fucking do it!”

Slack.

And the knot comes undone, and together with it, the robe falls off to the sides of her body—it’s beautiful. Never have you taken so much pleasure in undressing her, but you sure-as-hell have taken this much time to admire that wonderful, slender frame. From your standing view over her, you get down to her level to get a better look at her. It’s all part of the game of course: the way you look her in the eye, the way you touch her jaw ever so slightly to turn it towards you. The kiss is sickly sweet, and she’s starting to taste more and more like that cherry lipstick you gave her when you saw her some time ago at another event. Into your mouth, she lets out a sonorous moan. Your fingertips brush along her skin, slither down from her collarbone to her cleavage—down to that flushed pink region between her equally flushed thighs. Almost instantly, the tip of your digits are coated in slick fluids, and you raise an eyebrow at the girl on the bed.

“I literally touched you.” It’s amusement permeating your voice more than anything. In the sheets, she squirms in the slightest, eyes locked on your fingers that rest against that dripping heat and breath caught in her throat. You know that if you were to shift your finger in the slightest, you’d trigger a chain reaction that you have no power over. Her legs would clamp, her abdomen would tense, her eyes would roll. In the midst of it all, she’d maybe scream, or maybe she’d moan; either way goes. As far as you’re concerned, she’s needy as fuck at the moment, and she’s not going to let anything stop her from cumming.

“Yea, well… I can be sensitive.” Her defence is hardly a solid one, more of a perfunctory reply. Her head’s far from able to formulate a quip to throw back at you; that ability went out the window together with classy Wonyoung. “Put them in.”

You go against her request, and your fingers start to skirt the edges of that swollen, pink slit of hers. A crime—you’re going against the princess’ wishes, but realistically speaking: she can hardly be called a princess at the moment, so why comply?

A portion of the bathrobe is still clinging on to her breast. You use your other hand to push it away, and the split second of contact makes her flinch. “Jesus. You’re so fucking turned-on right now,” you can’t help but muse, all while your fingers retrace te outline of her swollen lips. She’s shivering, she isn’t breathing quite right. “Do you want to moan, baby? Do you want to moan like a good little slut for me?”

And she fixes you with a glare. “F-Fuck you… Put them in.”

No “please” this time. Shame. If she were more polite, you would’ve obliged; now you’ll just have some more fun with her.

Your thumb finds the swollen nub, and a little brush is all you need to get her straining like a psycho in a straitjacket. What will I ever do with you Wonyoung?—and she’s getting wetter by the second—You look so pretty when you’re so needy, you know that?—why would you ever, for a second, think that she’d be as refined as the last time? She doesn’t play with herself when she needs to get off; she waits till she sees you again to get off on your cock, your fingers, your mouth. Sexting was off the table, she wants you to be physically there, driving her insane as she lets herself come undone.

“You know,” and you’re almost laughing as you watch her face twist even further, “that I could do this forever right? I could just lie here, tease you for as long as I want… Or maybe that’s what you want?

She’s messy, so fucking messy. Juices are starting to soak the bed—you can feel it as your fingertips round the bottom of her slit. Housekeeping would certainly question the spot, and the two of you wouldn’t be there to reply anyway. Her cheeks are flushed, the veins of her throat are popping. It takes a considerable amount of effort to stay this composed, but you know that she’s breaking more and more. With each round your fingers make, cracks start to form along that perfectly sculpted face. The fine lines on her forehead begin to show as her brows start to furrow. Strained sounds are coming from her throat as the urge to moan is slowly winning the battle against her will. She wants control, but she can’t have it when she’s a wet, hot mess next to you. She’s being bratty for the sake of it. Your fingers are your leverage against her. It’s killing her. It’s delighting you.

And just like fine China thrown against concrete, her will shatters.

“Please! Put them in!”

And your fingers stop just at the top of her pussy. It feels like a long minute, but she isn't about to take another second of this. Her thighs clamp against your arm. Her fingers wrap around your wrist in desperation. She begs again. And again. And again. And again, again, again. The bed starts to creak as you start to move your fingers down her lips, down to the very end of her cunt.

God is she dripping.

“Will you moan for me?” you drawl huskily. A finger, two, three rest themselves against her heat.

“Yes.” There’s barely any of her original self left in there. “Please just—”

The fingers breach her opening. She screams, a high-pitched, keening cry. The noise makes your cock strain in your boxers, and you have to grit your teeth as her inner walls wrap tightly around your intruding digits. A moment of stillness comes, a moment where she’s just breathing raggedly, struggling to process this pleasure that’s racking her body faster than she can comprehend. She’s a ticking time bomb of nerves; the slightest movement in this state could send her into perdition, and she’ll barrel past that point of no return faster than both of you can imagine. God, she’s sensitive. God, she’s a mess.

The chuckle that departs from your mouth is one of perverse pleasure. “Baby,” you whisper, right into her ear as she struggles to catch her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, and you watch with a grin as her chest rises and falls. The grip on your wrist is a vice, knuckle-white and unrelenting. She’s begging you, with her eyes, to start moving, and you have to tell her, “I can’t start till you let go of me, baby.”

And it’s with reluctance that she slips her hand off your wrist, but that hand won’t stay empty for long. You guide it to her own breast, and with a soft whisper, you tell her to squeeze. She’s servile. She complies without protest. Her eyes slowly open themselves, and you relish the way they’re lust-glazed appearance looks under warm light while her breaths level themselves out. For a moment, there’s calm. For a moment, it’s tender.

Then your fingers start to move. All hell breaks loose.

Everything she did to calm herself quickly becomes futile; it becomes undone as her back arches in a way that catches your breath in your throat. Your fingers graze her walls, pressed into each other as they slowly draw in and out of her. And mind you: you’re going slow, slow enough to make her feel every bit of your fingers brush against her insides. But it’s enough to make her curse, enough to get her mewling like a damn kitten while her hips start to rock, rubbing her clit against the base of your palm. There’s no way to describe how needy she looks; her want is beyond words, and you’ve barely even started. Three fingers is the most you’ve ever put inside her. Clearly, it’s working wonders for her.

And now you yourself have to admit: you’ve wanted her for some time now. Since the last time you saw her, you’ve fantasised about that slim tummy twitching, about holding that snatched waist once more, about those long legs wrapped around your neck while your tongue and fingers turn her into a pliant plaything. For weeks, you’ve wanted nothing more than pulling Jang Wonyoung apart, reduce her into a withering mess wherever you guys are and get her screaming till she’s sore. You can’t even begin to describe what you’ve done with her in your dreams, nor can you ever convey how it feels to desire her as much as you have. So, you put all of it into action, sordid sentiments channelled into your fingers that are making those cute features twist and contort in perverse pleasure. She’s rambunctious, and her juices are quite literally soaking your hand, spilling the strongest sillage of lust all over the bed.

“Why do you always have to be so fucking messy?” You’re really just trying to see how much you can get away with at this point, though the answer seems to be: just about everything. Your fingers start moving faster. You love the way her cheeks are starting to flush even more. “Are you always this wet? Or is it just for me?”

The squelching is lewder than you can ever imagine. The sound of her slick, wet heat being breached by your fingers is enthralling. Add the sounds she’s making into that and you have the ultimate erotica audio that can bless mankind. She’s panting, she’s moaning, she’s whining—she’s doing it all really, and you’re just using your fingers. God knows how she’ll react once you’re inside of her, rock hard meat stretching her out instead of a few fingers fiddling around in warm walls.

But hey, the sounds she’s making are ever so erotic, and she’s definitely making your blood flow to all the right places. She feels out of place; you can’t put your finger on what’s wrong in this whole thing. It’s probably a small detail, something you’d overlook over the sight of her chest heaving as air shoots out and gets sucked back into her mouth, her whole body straining and convulsing against the bed while you get a thumb on her clit and rub at a languid tempo. Probably something miniscule, not worth mentioning because all your attention is focused on the look on her face (you want to mess up the makeup so badly it’s almost frustrating). And no, you’re not trying to make her cum in five seconds; she’s just really riled up—bundle of nerves and trigger happy. Probably hasn’t been treated this way in a while, probably hasn’t had three fingers twisting around, sliding in and out of that tight wet hole slow enough to make her feel every bit of skin against her walls; fast enough to make her combust if you were to speed up, in, like, forever.

“I–I…” She’s quite literally mewling, and the sharpness in her voice is so cutting that it makes an incision in a bag inside you that’s keeping all the perverse thoughts at bay. The thoughts are leaking out now, and it’s almost impossible to stuff them back in. You want her against the glass: tits against the window and ass in your hands while you pump and pump and pump into that slick tight hole; you want nothing more but to pick her up and have her lock her legs around you, tight frame flushed against you while you nail her against one of these walls that surround you; you want to unhinge that jaw and watch that pretty mouth—now parted to let the stream of moans flow—take your cock in and out between those kiss-swollen lips and watch the drool leak out the corners of her mouth. Shit. It’s killing you. Jang Wonyoung, dolled up. She’s killing you.

(No way in hell are thighs meant to be this hot, and lips are not supposed to look this delicious. Yet Jang Wonyoung somehow goes against every fucking norm, fights it naturally and effortlessly and wins like a seasoned warrior. So just for her case: her thighs can be this hot and flushed, and her lips can look this fucking appetising. You kiss her; it’s sloppy, it’s lewd, it’s hot and everything in between. Mark her neck, mark that row of skin above her right collarbone, mark her everywhere. Cusses are flying—god forbid her agency finds out about the things hse says while she’s getting fingered. She's making a mess out of herself. She’s making a mess out of you.

Fingers, just fingers and she’s already looking like this: hair fanned out, frazzled, looking like she just went through a car wash and yet somehow has her make-up intact. Fuck. You want to watch the mascara run, watch it streak while she tears up as she’s choking down cum and she’s struggling to take in air. Pretty little princess, messy and glacially being turned into some improper slut. It’s hard to not smirk while you ruin her with the same fingers you use to type articles about her—fingers that sing praises and can also make her moan enough to make her throat hoarse.)

The rhythm of your hand makes her body roll. Her toes–painted over, fresh manicure—curl into the sheets. Doe-like eyes stare back at you, plump red lips part to gasp your name, throat muscles strain trying to curse and moan at the same time. The fingers are gliding in and out and in and out and she’s begging you to not stop (like hell you ever would) in those choke up little sobs while she’s—

Oh fuck baby I can’t I can’t I can’t — Anything. I’ll do anything. Please just let me cum. I’m so fucking close baby. Please just let me fucking cum. I’ll be a good girl. I-I promise I’ll be a good fucking girl for you just… Fuck!

—blue screening on your fingers: lost in the sauce or whatever. Pliant plaything, docile doll. You’re certain she hasn’t gotten off in at least a month if the way she’s taking it is any sort of yardstick. She’s far beyond drenched, far beyond salvation and way off the deep end of the “needy” pool—drowning herself in her own sea of sighs and gasps and moans and loose phonics that slip out of her mouth. Ostinato of your fingers squelching in her cunt; half time rhythm of the creaky bed; melody of the chorus of Jang Wonyoung’s voice—music to your ears.

And there’s lots to unpack from the moment you locate that soft spot at the top of her pussy. There’s a lot of cussing, a lot of jolting, a fair amount of whining and your name is thrown somewhere in that mix. You find her lips, she kisses back, one of her hands grabs your arm, nails dig in and stay there. Flurry of actions, filthy language—fucking hell, someone stop her.

Bottom line: lots of action. You find it congenial to start from the part where it quite literally ends her world. Once your digits curled up into that sensitive patch of flesh, it was all over for her.

You can pinpoint the exact moment where the orgasm rips through her body, the exact moment where her muscles seized so perfectly that her back arches. The pulse around your fingers is strong, walls tight around your digits and your thumb gently rubbing on her clit while the pleasure rolls through her body, molten iron libido converting the feeling between her thighs to electricity that makes her short circuit. The moan is breathy if anyone’s asking, and the look on her face—twisted, perverse satisfaction: superimposing need and want—has a whole foot over the line of pornographic. Wires are fraying in her head, her vocal cords are strained, she’s ruining the sheets with her juices; you’re complicit in every damn part of this, and guilt is the last thing on your mind.

Then her back falls back flat against the mattress, and the sheets ripple as her body makes a dense thump against the bed, punctuating the sigh she releases into the air. Nerves are unbundling themselves. She’s sweaty and panting. Your fingers are beyond soaked.

“Messy,” you muse, slowly drawing your juice slicked fingers out of her cunt. You bring them to her mouth. She languidly tastes herself, sweat-darkened sheets hugging the muscles of her shoulders and lining her ribs. She looks so tiny in the bed if you looked over the fact that her legs were dangling over the edge of the mattress, and that’s easy to do once you lean in for a kiss.

(It’s not hard to slip your tongue into her mouth, and there’s barely any fight left in her as you roll her nipple between your index finger and thumb. The sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead adds a nice touch to her face.)

“Such a good girl.” Your tone is warm as you praise her, and a hand moves to cup her cheek in an act of tenderness. Her eyelids flutter shut. She puts the weight of her face into your palm.

“Do I get my reward now?” she whispers, and it’s more of a plea than a question really. You take a moment, not to think, but to drag out the suspense for a little more before you give her an answer. You take guilty pleasure in knowing that you could keep her on tenterhooks for the whole night—the only thing stopping you is the throbbing of your cock in your boxers and the look of sheer need on her face. If you could: you’d drag this out a little longer, maybe tease her a little and call her more names. You still could do that, but you’d much rather fuck her instead.

“Where do you want it?” your thumbs hook into the waistband of your boxers and hook them down. Your cock springs free from its cottons confines, and Wonyoung’s eyes instantly dart to it. She may be a little obsessed with your cock, but only a little when she’s depraved (which is right now). Before you can even react, she has your shaft in her hand, lanky fingers wrapped around it and pumping it with considerate strokes.

“I want a big load in my ass.” she requests, far from innocent and banking more towards improper, which seems to be a pretty big theme of hers tonight. “I’ve been wanting to feel daddy’s hot load leaking out of my ass for a long time…” The strokes delivered to your length grow firmer and firmer by the second. “Please?”

The spikes of pleasure her small hand delivers to your system is really making it hard to say no at the given moment. Of course, she’s well aware of it, and she’s definitely feeling so damn smug right now. And so with a very clouded mind, you nod. She smiles smugly, unaware that you’re about to fuck that smug little smirk rig of her pretty face. Conveniently, she’s already on her back—it’ll make the process so much easier.

“I take it that the lube is in your bag?” You raise. She grins and nods.

Sure enough, you find it in the exact same place as it usually is: side pocket, right next to her lipstick. You toss it towards her and move around her, slip her ankles over her shoulders. She lies still, unmoving and obedient as her left calf goes past her head, then her right. You lean forward, and she gasps as she's almost bent her completely in half. She’s flexible; this position won’t bring any harm to her, but it is congenial to ruin her asshole and leave her sore for the next day or so, which is exactly what she wants, but probably not how she imagined herself getting it. She cracks open the lube, and with precision, squirts a generous amount of it on the tight ring of her ass, making eye contact with you all the while as the clear liquid gathers at the puckered ring of muscle. The tube is discarded to a side when she’s done, and she uses her hands to spread her asscheeks for you, inviting you to take your liberties with her hole.

“Come on Daddy,” she urges you. “Come fuck this ass,” she continues, her hands spreading her ass cheeks even wider as you start to line yourself up with the tight ring. “Wreck this fucking hole Daddy, I can fucking take it.”

To hear her say those words was almost enough to have you cum right there and then. You press the tip of your cock at the open, gaping hole of her ass, swirling it around the entrance, collecting more of the copious amounts of lube around it. She was generous with the amount of lube she dispensed; you're about to be generous with the strokes you're gonna make inside that ass.

(She yelps when you slide inside her ass. God does it feel so fucking divine.)

She is so tight and wet and hot that you think you could’ve cum with your first thrust inside her. Her pussy was tight and hot, but her ass was even tighter and even hotter. Even though your cock was slick with lube, it did close to nothing to keep the sheer tightness of her asshole from clenching around you like it was a really small glove. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been inside her ass, but it sure as hell felt like a novelty every single time you entered that tight ring of muscle. Fuck. The heat, the tightness—sublime. You think you could cum in a matter of seconds if you didn’t have self control.

“Go!’ she hisses, through the pain and discomfort. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass!”

You would have been happy to stay there, buried balls deep in Wonyoung’s ass, but her own words goad you into moving—slowly at first, but with a steadily increasing pace, you begin to fuck Wonyoung’s ass with long, slow strokes. She hisses—part glee, part discomfort—as your shaft starts to pump itself in and out of her ass. You draw yourself out till only the base of you tip remains inside of her, and then you thrust back in, hard, hard enough to make her yelp out in pained pleasure while she grits her teeth and watches your rock hard shaft fill her ass. It's a perverse show for her, and it brings you a sort of dark satisfaction in knowing that past all that discomfort she’s feeling, she loves the way your cock stretches her out and fills her defenceless little hole.

With her ankles over your shoulders, you’re practically spearing yourself vertically into her ass, fucking her deep and making her feel every inch of your throbbing meat inside of that hot, tight hole. Every penetration is punctuated by a deep, guttural groan from Wonyoung, sometimes a curse, or something along the lines of: fuck. So fucking full. You know for a fact that the pained sounds you hear now will turn into airy gaps of pleasure once she gets used to the discomfort, and that she’d probably be a mewling mess by the time you reach the stage where she can take you in and out of her ass with only pleasure in her system and no pain. For now, you’ll settle with the pace you have—slow, long strokes in and out of her ass while she squeezes her eyes to block out all sensations distracting her from enjoying the sensation of her ass being filled with cock. You have to admit that she’s doing a great job at it, and your praise vocalises itself in the rather harsh form of, “what a good little slut.”

(And here’s something interesting you noted: never once in this whole thing did she ask you to stop, nor did you ever think about stopping to let her adjust. If this was anyone else, you would have given them a moment to breathe upon entering, and you certainly would be checking on their wellbeing throughout it all.

Thing is—the two of you know her too well to know that you could only dream of stopping once you got started with her, and it could only end in two ways. 1) You cum in her. 2) You cum on her. Edge her and you’ll never get the end of it, you would know. The last time you pulled a stunt on her like that, she left you tied to a chair with a vibrator taped to your cock till you were begging and a cummy mess. It wasn’t pretty. She could dominate if she wanted to, but she preferred to be a manipulative brat instead.)

It’s not long before she’s desensitised to the pain, and your slow pace is not enough, no, not for Wonyoung. Next thing you know it, she hissing for you to go faster, fuck her harder—I told you to fuck my ass Daddy. Don’t hold back on me now—and deeper. She swears, all three languages that she knew strung together shabbily like they were put together on some shitty production line and thrown out at random—and while you made little sense of the sounds coming out of her filthy mouth you knew what they meant.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

Then you fuck her ass. Hard and fast.

You almost surprised yourself with the liberties you were taking, drilling in and out of her butt with the same speed and depth that you would use with her mouth and pussy.

“Yes!” she shouts—a loud, full shout. “Yes! Fuck me like this! Pound me, fuck me until you cum in my slutty little ass!”

You grunt in reply, because it was all you could do. The faculties of human language have long since abandoned your grasp and ability, and nothing else exists in your mind except the thought of filling her tight, hothole with warm, white semen. Her eyes lock with yours and you only find that they’re full of need, nothing else (not like she’s capable of displaying any other emotion at the moment). The rest of you, every fibre of your being, was focused on pounding Wonyoung’s tight little hole as hard and fast as you possibly could. Her ankles bounce helplessly behind your head, her knees press into her shoulders and her breath is ragged; sweat drips off your forehead and onto her tits, and your hot breath mixes with hers as you struggle to keep yourself propped up with your arms.

In short: the two of you are sweaty and messy (one more so than the other. Take a pick, not sure if there’s a prize for guessing right), victims of lust and slaves to pleasure. You blame Wonyoung just because you can.

For a few delicious moments, there is absolutely nothing in the world aside from the tight hot sheath of flesh around your cock, the warm flesh of her legs against your shoulders and the strands of sweat-slick hair that fly just about everywhere, all topped with the lewd, filthy, obscene words spilling from Wonyoung’s mouth. For a few delicious moments, she feels nothing but the feeling of her tight hole being stretched and used by the cock that turns her face into a wrought outlet of pleasure while she lets filthy words and exclamations spill from her lips.

Try as you might, you couldn’t have it last forever. Not when you were already so turned on from watching her writhe and twitch under your fingers. Not when the sheer, pure pleasure overwhelming you was more than enough to cause you to cum at any moment.

And when she orgasms for the second time, her ass tightening exponentially around you—there is little you or anyone else could have done to stop the inevitable.

“I’m gonna cum in your ass, Wonyoung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, your lust and pleasure-addled brain on the edge of losing all comprehension.

“Cum with me! Fill me!”

And so you do it, burying yourself hilt deep inside the quivering woman’s asshole before filling it with the last of your cum, giving her every last drop you had left in your body, leaving rope after rope inside her sore, well-used, cum-filled asshole. You almost black out, and you quite literally have to dig your nails into the sheets while Wonyoung’s own orgasm takes over her body, making her twitch and her ass contract—milking every last bit of cum from your throbbing, twitching length till it was nothing but a dry, hard rod inside of her creamy asshole.

There’s silence that is punctuated by both of your ragged breaths. She looks at you, you look at her. And the two of you can’t help but chuckle at the mess you’ve made of each other. You want to remember the way her nose wrinkles as she teases you, “you fucking animal”, and you want, so badly, to burn the image of a sweaty, weary Jang Wonyoung, folded in half beneath you like she was a piece of origami paper, panting and gasping as a fresh load of cum spills out of her ass.

It takes energy, but you bend down and kiss her, letting her sweaty calves slide off your equally sweaty shoulders as you do. She’s satisfied, for now, and she pulls you down next to her on the hotel bed with one hand and gathers the cum leaking out of her ass with the other.

“Look at this,” she whispers, and your eyes train themselves on the pearlescent, sticky, slimy, fluids that run down from her fingertips slowly. “You made such a big mess inside my ass,” she chides before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking your cum right off her fingers like it’s a delicacy. “Now I have to clean all of this up. You’re lucky I like the way your cum tastes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Um… Ew?”

Wonyoung smirks and gently nudges you with her left foot.

“It’s okay,” she tells you, all smug and everything. “I know you love the way I taste too.”

* In the dark, her small hand creeps around your torso and grasps yours.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” She’s whispering right into your ear, and it’s a sensation you want to be able to hold on to for the rest of your life. “I know your eyes are open.” The feel of her small fingers rolling the knuckle of your index finger sticks itself in your head like a post-it. “ I can hear and feel you tossing, you know?”

Okay. No dodging.

The sheets stay still as your shoulders turn. You roll over, face her, and you really just want to capture the way the night lights paint her face: doe-like eyes reflecting glimmering pools of moonlight, warm yellow light painting her cute-yet-so-fucking-gorgeous face in a manner that not even Van Goh could copy, lips parted slightly as if in mid speak. She’s right there—you can kiss her if you really want to.

“Are you still mad at me?” She asks, tender with her tone. “I know that I fucked up, okay?” You can tell that she’s not even trying to look pitiful at the moment, but the way her face is sculpted really makes you want to just hold her to your chest and stroke her hair. Sincere are her words—heart heaved into her mouth. “I don’t blame you if you’re still mad. It’s your right. But… Just hear me out? Please?”

If you were mad, you wouldn’t have let her hold your hand the way she was now. If you were mad, you would’ve pretended to be fast asleep; ignore her pleas and just close your eyes and fall asleep. Alas, you can never stay mad at her for too long.

“I was… Never really angry, Wony.” Your tone is a lot softer than you would ever expect, but you know it’s because you probably needed this talk more than she did. “I... I’m sorry if it came across that way.”

And she studies you for a moment, lets the sound of your breathing fill the space as she furls her upper lip into her front teeth, and it’s a perfect moment for you to try and understand what’s happening in her head. She’s a complex creature really; understanding her is like finding a meaning that everyone can agree on when you look at abstract art.

Down below, you can still hear the cars moving through the street. Billboards and screens are still on, and from the window in your bedroom, multi-coloured lights filter into the room past the blinds like moonlight through bamboo leaves. The sheets you lie in are fresh, and they feel nice and smooth against your skin, and they smell like roses. The mattress creaks a little as Wonyoung shifts her weight, and you have to admit that you’re half-drunk on the scent of her shampoo.

“You must have been scared,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I got really emotional. I… I shouldn’t have walked out. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that. Not now at least. Maybe it’ll come to you the next morning.

You give her a sweet smile. You hug her to your chest. You want to remember how she feels in your arms.

The gentle trickle of water down the arch of her spine is really something—a steady stream flowing down her back, running over the muscles of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts and fraying at her plump ass. You can’t remember the last time you showered with her, but you certainly remember the view being this good.

In the shower of room 302, Jang Wonyoung lets the warm water hit her skin from the rain shower nozzle. Her hair—wet and freshly shampooed (and conditioned)—sticks to her back. Creamy skin glistens, small beads of water affix themselves to random parts of her body, stay there for one or two seconds, then roll down in streaks, almost as if they too were admiring Wonyoung’s well-sculpted figure.

Slim fingers grasp locks of hair. She lifts and looks over her shoulder, the whisper of a grin on her face as she shoots a beckoning wink. “Are you gonna help me soap my back? Or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?”

“Don’t you have to, like, turn off the water first?” you ask, and you already know what she’s gonna say, but you just want to hear her say it. For memory sake.

“Mmmm.” Her humming as she ‘ponders’ reverberates in the shower, floating over the sound of water from the shower head falling to the floor like rain. “No… Adds to the atmosphere, don’t you think?”

Ah. There we go.

“Then could you at least step back?” you request. This shower is comically huge—long length, breadth about the same length as your arm span. In the space, she looks so tiny, but you know for a fact that she could probably walk to the other end of the shower in a stride. You’re not one to disregard the facts, but you do like to live with a bit of imagination.

Wonyoung chuckles, low and sonorous. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, then—painfully slowly—walks back till she’s out of the stream of water. Water wastage is the last thing on her mind. She stops when she feels your hands on her back, and she looks over her shoulder, expectant. You move your hands and the soap lathers as it’s spread. You start from the centre of her back, rubbing gently in the section where the muscles of her shoulders meet and working your way outwards and upward to her shoulders. Then it’s down from there, your palms moving in small circles and covering every inch of skin.

“You’re good at this,” she mutters, watching with intent as your hands start to trail to her lower back. “Maybe you should’ve been a masseuse instead of a writer.”

“Uh… Patronising much?” You chuckle, watching as her back muscles twitch a little when you apply gentle pressure. “The pay’s about the same,” the soap makes patterns across the area above her ass—spirals of foam that stick to her skin like styrofoam flowers. “The hours are probably the same… But I don’t think I can live on rubbing someone’s back really hard. I Think I’ll just save this service for you, but only for when we meet.”

Humored, Wonyoung offers a giggle, high pitched and cutting above the sound of water striking the floor tiles. She shifts her weight to her right foot, making her body slant a little. Her skin is soft under your palms. Your hands are going lower and lower, slowly spiralling towards the curve of her ass that’s literally just a centimetre away.

“You know…If you take up my offer, you can do this for me everyday.”

Your hands slow to a stop. You raise your head a little to find her searching for your gaze over her shoulder. “Oh?”

“Yea.” Her voice is low, like a mother trying to persuade her child to eat their vegetables. “Every night, we can be like this: you soaping my back, us chatting… Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”

Your lip furls behind your front teeth. “Yea… It really does.”

And in her gaze, you sense her sensing your apprehension. “What’s stopping you from taking it up then?”

(For context, here’s the deal proposed by her company: the two of you go public with the relationship, get clout for the company, and Starship will let you lead your lives together—no qualms, no disturbances. She can visit you whenever, live with you, appear outside together with you like it’s a regular Tuesday night; you get to date the girl you fell in love with all those years ago for real. Only issue: once you get the last stroke of your signature out on the contract, you practically agree to blurring the line between your private and public life. Press will be all over you like ants after you step on their nest, you probably won’t get to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace, everyone will suddenly want to curry favours with you… Was it worth the sacrifice?)

You find it hard to meet her eyes, and so your gaze affixes itself on your hands. It’s not like you don’t love her or anything, but your apprehension makes you feel like shit. It shouldn’t be this hard to say yes, yet the idea of selling your life of privacy to live a life with her makes you screech to a halt at the crossroads. Sometimes (in these moments), you wished that you didn’t always make decisions with your head and your heart.

As the shower continues to run, Wonyoung slowly turns around. One hand finds yours, the other gently takes you by the chin and raises your eyes up to her. She’s tall, and the two of you are staring eye to eye; same height, different trains of thought.

The hand on yours guides you to her breast. Eyes locked with yours, she lays your palm flat against her tit. The skin beneath your fingers is slippery, but it doesn’t remove any of the familiarity from the sensation. Then she squeezes, and the flesh spills out between your fingers like putty. She gasps—airy.

“Don’t you want me?” She whispers, and it’s raunchy more than anything. It isn’t aggressive, but it’s certainly blurring the line between demanding and caring. “Don’t you want to be able to fuck this pretty little pussy every night?”

She’s really far from home base. “Wony…”

“Don’t you love owning me?” She’s squeezing harder. Her knee twitches. Sopa’s spilling out of your fingers. You’re certain that you’re gonna mark her. She doesn’t care. “Don’t you want me all over you? Every night?”

“It’s not that Wonyoung.”

“Then what’s on your mind?” She’s not prodding for an answer, nor is she trying to demand a reason for your silence. She wants to understand you, to internalise what’s going on inside your head. You have no reason to lie.

“Will it all really be okay?” you ask sincerely. “My family, my life… Will… Will it all really be…”

She understands where you’re coming from (if the relieving of pressure around her own breast is any indication), and she’s starting to tune herself to the frequency of your worries. “If you’re wondering if you’re gonna be harassed—you won’t.”

“Yea but—”

“I promise you: I will do everything I can to make sure that you will be safe. You and your family–if so much as a finger is laid on any of you, I will quit.”

“Wonyo—”

“No one will intrude on you. You won’t have to live with the flashing lights. I give you my word: I will make sure that everyone who wants to invade your privacy will leave you alone. You and your family will all be left alone.”

If it’s possible for sincerity to ring clear, Jang Wonyoung has absolutely made it happen. Sweet like honey; she’s left you feeling like you had a spoonful of it. And just for good measure, she steps closer and repeats once more: “I promise.”

Considering that your hand was at the left side of her chest, this was really a “I swear. Hand to my heart” type of deal (whether it’s intended or not is purely up to your discretion).

And as you gaze into those eyes, you want to remember the way she gazes at you softly, gently, tenderly. If it weren’t for your hand on her tit, you would’ve considered this one of the more tender moments you’ve shared with her. Not that it’s not or anything… Just that it’s a little hard to call this a loving moment when you can literally feel her nipple poking into the flesh of your palm at all times of the conversation.

“Are you sure you won’t land yourself in trouble?” you ask her, and she’s quick to scoff.

“Of course. I make too much fucking money fo those higher up fuckers to not listen to me,” she reminds you.

Well… Then that settles about everything then.

“Okay,” you tell her. “Okay… I’ll do it.”

The corners of her lips play up in a smile. She leans in, kisses you—no tongue, closed mouth—and lets the hand keeping yours at her breast fall. Long arms wrap around your waist and she pulls you close, flushing her tight frame against your body. When lips part, she whispers a soft I love you, a sparkle in eyes that lingered for a moment.

But only for a moment.

Then—without you noticing—her hand snakes down and grips your rapidly hardening shaft, and she squeezes. This time, the line between demanding and caring is clear as day, and she’s chosen to play her ball to the court of demanding. With a gleam in her eye, she begins stroking with her closed fist, and she pumps your stiff length at a slow but steady rhythm, adding an occasional twisting motion to her wrist, corkscrewing her fingers around your cock, increasing the pleasurable shocks she was sending through your system with each pump of her hand. It was almost like she wasn’t the sweetest, loving girl in the whole world just two seconds ago.

“Jesus fucking…” You can’t even finish your sentence. Your teeth grit. Your fists clench. It’s hard to breathe. “Maybe… A little bit of a heads up next time?”

She smirks proudly, watching as you tilt your head back and let out a groan. “Where’s the fun in that?” And gently, she pushes against your chest, guides you to the wall. When your back presses against the cool tile, she presses herself against you. She leans in, hot breath on your skin, and then the feeling of her lips against your jaw almost makes you yelp. She kisses a path down your jaw, paves a way towards your neck to get cheeky: sucking, nibbling, licking the skin of your neck while she keeps the movement of her hands slow and considerate. The shower continues to run.

Do you know—she breaks contact with your skin for just a second—how fucking horny—her breath’s tickling your ear, sending shivers down your spine—you make me?—and she squeezes a little harder around your shaft, not enough for it to hurt, but enough to feel you throb in your hand and make you gulp a little. She starts going faster—jerking, fucking pumping your length in her closed fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your eyes open; your eyelids flutter shut. Your head rests against the wall, a sigh slipping past your lips. It’s filthy really—down from the way she catches you off guard to the way she makes your skin sore after she’s done feasting. Almost every interaction with her in a private space is as X-rated as this; it’s hard not to get into a situation like this around her. You know: a situation where the two of you are naked and getting really touchy and actively trying to get each other as many times as humanly possible.

“Fuck yes baby…” you rasp, your nails starting to eat into your palms as she the sound of her hand sliding up and down your dick starts to cut above the steady stream of water. With each rise of her hand, the pad of her thumb plays with the head of your member, and when it sinks down, she twists her wrist in a screwing motion. Rinse and repeat; up and down and up and down and fuck. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

She hums in reply, and she has your earlobe between her teeth the next second, nicking you mischievously, sending small pricks of pain shooting through your system as she adjusts her grip on your cock without ever breaking her motion. Next thing you know, your tongue is inside your ear, and she’s leaning in so close that when you open your eyes, you’re practically looking over her shoulder, looking down the curve of her back that glistens with moisture and soap bubbles.

“I love this cock so fucking much,” she whispers, a bit of a hiss in her words as she takes the head of your cock between her forefinger and thumb and pinches lightly. “It stretches me out when I need it.” her fingers start to trail down your slipper shaft, letting the smoothness of her palm rub against your whole length, “fills me when I want it.” She’s milking the precum out of you, making you all leaky and squirmy as she starts pumping faster. “And it’s so fucking big that I can choke on it. You know how much I love being choked.”

She chooses that last bit to make eye contact with you, and she’s practically served you what she wants next on a silver platter. The next move is clear cut and simple; no words need be spoken. You were going to fuck her—and you mean properly fuck her—with a hand wrapped around that small throat. How you were gonna do it was still a mystery, but you figured that it’d slowly come to you, but it will definitely be related to the mirror and the sink outside and the mirror in front of it. At once, you reach over to the handle of the shower, and you turn it down to the handheld showerhead mode. Wonyoung bites her bottom lip, perverse glee painted all over her face as you use it to wash the soap off her back. She’s watching, waiting, probably drenched down there and aching to be stuffed full of cock.

She’s almost shaking with excitement as you finish washing all the soap off her body. You’d hardly consider her clean, but it won’t hurt to hop back into the shower again once you're done with her. The shower door swings open and you’re cupping her pussy, dripping wet while stumbling out with her, lips locked on hers and her hand on your cock as you push her against the sink of her hotel room. From the moment her mouth opens and let the moans pour out while you rub her clit to the moment her hand leaves your cock to cradle your face, she’s practically radiating need from the pores of her skin. You can’t help but playfully remark, “you’re such a fucking loser”, while your thumb thumps against her clit and sends pleasure tearing through her system. Weak in the knees, she holds on to you for support.

And the moans (those fucking hair-raising moans), they tumble out of those plump lips like marbles down a ramp, and they mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you start to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, doing to her what she did to you in the shower; you give her a taste of her own medicine, and the way she’s titling her head back to let you mark her freely makes it almost seem as if it’s the intended outcome of her actions. It’s like she knew that you would get back at her, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you ever find out that she gets off on knowing that she can manipulate you in her own bratty ways—get you wrapped around her finger and have you doing all the things she wants you to do without having to tell you. Not that you have something to gripe about it, but you’re just so amused (and that’s just one word to describe how you feel) by how she goes about her ways.

“Come on,” she manages to whisper, all while you’re busy sucking on the skin just below her collarbone till it’s sore. She has a lot of pride in her voice for someone who’s quite literally quivering. “You know you want to fuck me. Give me a good creampie again.”

You lift your head for a moment, and you take in the look of almost childlike excitement on her face as your hand finds its way to her throat. It’s perverse excitement, that lewd exhilaration of knowing that she was about to get what she wanted, and albeit a little messed up, it was pretty hot in its own way. When your fingers gently wrap themselves around her throat, you can feel every muscle in her body tense in anticipation, as if she didn’t get enough from the bedroom earlier.

“Up on the counter baby. Let me see how messy you are down there,” you whisper.

She knows what to do, and she has herself propped up on the counter and engaged in open mouth kissing. She doesn’t need you to tell her to spread her legs, and she definitely doesn’t need you to tell her how cute she sounds when your fingers slip inside of her, feeling around the mess you’ve made of her and coating your digits in her fluids. Your index and middle finger are slick with her juices when you retract them from inside her, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Messy as ever,” you muse, making a show of sucking her juices clean off your fingers. She’s sweet and borderline tangy—a taste that you’re accustomed to, and you will never get tired of it. She’s biting down on her lower lip, the skin wrinkling under the pressure of her front teeth as she makes a sound that’s close to a purr.

“You made the mess.” She has her eyes locked on yours as you raise an eyebrow, prompting her to follow up after her first statement. Not that you didn’t know what was coming, but more that you wanted to gently coax it out of her, because it was so fucking hot to hear what she had to say next. “You clean it up.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. She watches you with intent eyes as you sink down to your knees, waits with bated breath as you lower your face till the glistening, pink folds of her pussy are right in front of your face, flushed thighs around your ears. Her excitement is almost palpable, and you can hear the sharp inhale she takes when your palm finds its place on the inside of her left thigh, pushing gently to give you better access to her heat (you’re really just trying to drag out the tension if you were being completely honest with yourself). You lick your lips, lean forward till your mouth is hovering above her slit.

“You better moan for me this time,” you tell her, and you’re making sure to make your breath hit her slick as you speak. “You have such a wonderful voice. Put it to use.”

Praise mixed with the slight hint of authority—it’s enough to make her nod furiously and implore you with doe eyes to just get on with it. With a smirk, your lips find the swollen nub at the top of her entrance. You suck on it. Hard. And almost at once, her thighs clamp around your ears and her hand is on your head, like it’s some sort of natural instinct for her when you’re eating her out. Keeping to her word, she cries out—keening, whiny and ever so fucking bratty, and it’s the the holy grail of every wet dream. Nothing in the world could bring you more satisfaction than that shrill, airy cry she lets out when the pleasure ripples through her body, and you’re just getting started.

Your mouth opens and your tongue flattens itself against her folds, (She tastes so good. You want all of it, all of her) and you drag it up her folds, deliberately, painfully slow as you start to lick up that wet cunt. Her back arches; you can feel her struggling to keep a hold of your head; she throws her head back and lets out a gasp; her thighs clamp down a little harder around your head. The pleasure in her system builds up with the slow movement of your tongue, only rising and rising as you lick from the base of her slit to the mid section to the top. When the tip of your tongue flicks her clit, it's almost like an explosion, enough for her other hand to join its pair atop your head, enough to make her cry out in a perverse plea, “Daddy, please!”

(For the record: she’s wanted this from the moment you guys stepped into the shower. She’s willingly turned herself into some pliant little plaything, and she’s probably getting off so hard to it. Frankly, if she wanted to order you around, you’d be up to it, but this is what she prefers.)

And nothing else needs to be said really. You put your whole mouth on her—relishing the shiver that runs up from her thighs up to her body—and get right into making a wreck of her. You lick, you devour, you ravish her: working your mouth on her pussy, lapping up the juices that spill forth from flushed lips with broad, sharp strokes that make her body grow taut and her legs quiver. You tongue her clit, lick up sweet fluids, make her messy and needy and hot in all the right areas till she’s drilling her nails into the back of your scalp and pushing your face against her sweet slick. In half whispers, she tells you just how good you make her feel—oh Daddy I’m so fucking wet!—and you feel a dark part of yourself be fed by these lecherous words—Oh god oh fuck I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep… Fuck!—that leave her half-parted mouth and linger in the air, reminding you of just how wanton she is and how you’re the only person in the world she ever wants to fuck and be satisfied by. You’re hers; she’s yours—a relationship with Jang Wonyoung that any guy would kill for.

“Daddy—” she gaps, her voice a whole octave higher than it should be as her nails turn into claws at the back of your head. “Fuck I’m cumming. Daddy I’m cumming!”

The pulsing of her pusy against your tongue grows. You continue licking, lapping. One stroke, two strokes—three. She moans, blue screens. You hazard a look up.

Nothing else matters. Only: the sight of that back arching off the marble counter, her thighs around your head trembling and quaking as her hips roll and her mouth parts in a silent scream. You’re certain that there’s blood being drawn from the back of your head, but you're more certain that she’s got enough heat in her core to melt molten iron but a lack of breath that makes her gasp for air as you lick and lick and lick your way into her. You can feel her orgasm getting closer by the second, it’s in her breathing, and in the way her hips are practically thrusting her into your mouth.

And just like the bathrobe from earlier, she comes undone—falls apart and ceases to keep control of her body. She tenses, her thighs go rigid around your ears. Her breath is caught in her throat, her eyes are closed. You stop your work, admire the way she glows as her body twitches and her face twists. Pleasure rips its way through her muscles, her nerves—splits her very being in half as the orgasm rolls through her system. She’s beautiful, and she’s a messy work of art that you’ve created.

You rise to your feet as she winds down, and her hands leave your head to rest on the counter while her body struggles to process the aftermath of that orgasm. It’s not the first time she’s cum for the night, and it certainly won’t be the last. Her eyes open, and she instantly locs them on you as you brush back some of the hair that sticks to her sweat slicked face. You take her hand and give a gentle tug, and she slips off the counter obediently. You grip her jaw—tenderly but rough enough for her to like it—and tell her to turn around. Servile, she obeys, and in the reflection of the mirror, she watches as your hand snakes its way to her throat and grips it. You’re not squeezing, not yet.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now,” you drawl, gripping your shaft in your hand and slapping it against her slit. The contact makes her shudder, but she remains silent as you place a kiss on her cheek. “Your face is gonna be so pretty when I choke you and fill you.”

“Yes Daddy.” Her reply is a whisper, a borderline drawl that’s airy and raunchy and makes your hairs stand on their ends. She’s looking at you through the mirror, plump lips slightly parted and eyes glassy. “Own me. I’m yours, forever.”

And you’re all too happy to hear that from her.

You slip into her, hilt yourself inside her in one swift motion.

(Tight. Hot. Wet. So tight.)

She lets out a sigh, low and sonorous, harmonising with your own groan as you press her against the edge of the counter and make the fingers around her throat squeeze. The sound that leaves her throat is the sound of her sigh being truncated, and it delights that dark part of you. Being inside Wonyoung was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the bathroom of her hotel, on the night where you’ve agreed to seal a deal with her, she felt downright heavenly. She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation of being filled by cock, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication; she looks over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip. And when she has your gaze, she mouths something.

Fill me.

The silence is deafening, but it’s all you need to hear.

When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you—but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the marble. Her hands steady her body against the counter, her back arched in a way that lets you get a wonderful top-down view of her breasts as they roll together with her body. It’s a concerted effort, but she makes it seem effortless.

“Be honest.” With the hand around her throat, her voice sounds a little hoarse. It’s hot. “Do you think about this, Daddy? About fucking me like a good little slut?”

“Wonyoung,” you reply, speaking through your gritted teeth. “You have no,” and you punctuate the sentence there with a deeper thrust into her tight slick, a thrust strong enough for her to let out a strained gasp. “fucking idea…”

(In the mirror, you watch as she curls her lips into her mouth and tilts her head back into your shoulder, like she’s submitting her whole being to you and letting you take liberties with her body. You take the invitation, and your free hand finds itself on one of her soft mounds and gives it a squeeze—rough but tender enough to elicit a low moan from her throat that makes your hand around it vibrate pleasantly.

At the given moment, she’s doing all she can to make herself a pretty little fuckdoll for you, doing her best to encourage you to treat her rough, treat her like you own her. She wants nothing more but to feel the rockhard meat penetrating her tight little cunt stretch her out and fill her the way she wants, all while she’s begging and pleading obsequiously while being obsessed with your cock. It’s a lot to take in for her for sure, but she gets off on it, and you get off on it too—the fact that she’s being all needy and pleading just so she can implicitly tell you to fuck her till she’s raw and can’t fucking walk the next morning. The fact that she’s actually in control while being such a bottom. Bratty manipulation.)

“Then fuck me Daddy,” she tells you, almost pleading. “Use this pretty little pussy. I want it. I fucking need it.”

With her invitation to do more with her body, you’re more than ready to do what you’ve intended to do from the very start. You increase your tempo, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway—you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position. She takes it well, like she was made for this. In her world, this was what fucking looked like, and it was the only definition that she was going to live with and she’d take it to the grave. She indulges in the roughness, the almost animal-like way your cock fills her again and again and again, all while she encourages you with cries and moans and sighs that are music to your ears.

And a notion hits you: she’s going to make you fuck her till she’s the only thing you can possibly think about. She’s going to draw out every single primal urge within you, make you want her like she’s some form of drug and you’re the abuser, and then she’s going to get exactly what she wants—your cum in her pussy. You can’t let her win like that, you can’t. You can tell that to yourself now, but you’re not sure if you can remember it later, not when she practically reeks of the strongest possible sillage of sex.

Her pussy throbs around you, pulse strong and just a beat behind your thrusts as you thrust yourself in and out of her slick walls, filling her up and drawing yourself out before filling her up yet again. Pure filth spills from her mouth, expletives, sordid sighs and cries and any sound or word that comes to mind. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and from the mirror you enjoy the way she’s almost writhing in against the counter. Ample breasts bounce with each thrust that shocks her body, and it’s almost hypnotic if it weren’t for the fact that that pretty face was stealing the show. The face that was marvelled, the face that was the source of jealousy, the face that was on the face of so many magazines and posters and adored by millions, if not billions—scrunched up, improper and so fucking lewd that it looked like it belonged in a porno instead of an idols face, and you take pleasure in the fact that your cock is ruining the face of a princess, turning her dissolute and so fucking needy that she was as good as a fan begging her for an autograph. This side of her was reserved for you, and only you—her duality is reserved for your eyes only.

Her body is slick with sweat, rubbing against your own sweaty torso while her body rolls together with your thrusts. “Fuck—” you’re saying, but it comes out as more of a growl than anything given how hard yur teeth are clenching. Your fingers squeeze tighter around her throat. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her pussy to clench even tighter around you—and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you’re going insane. You probably are at this rate. “This pussy. It’s so fucking good baby.”

Her reply is a strained gasp, but you get the gist of what she wants to say. She wants, so badly, to tell you how good your cock is making her feel, how well it fucks her, how well it fills her and stretches her and how it’s her favourite thing in the whole world. The squelch of your cock filling her pussy is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the smacking of skin against skin as you press more of your weight against her, pushing her a little more into the corner of the counter and a little more over the line of pathetic. She moans in response to your actions, and it’s telling you: fuck. Harder. It’s better when it hurts.

And you can feel her juices leaking down the back of her thighs, wetting your crotch and making the smack of skin against skin louder than ever, almost as if it was an announcement: I’m being fucked like a good little slut and I love it. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to you,and for clarity, it’s something along the lines of turning you absolutely feral with her moans and the divine tightness of her pussy that makes you want to cum on the spot. Okay,maybe she is cognizant of how crazy she makes you when you fuck her, but you barely have the capacity to think, let alone rationalise wether thai girl in your arms that your chocking and fucking feel smug in knowing that she’s driving you insane.

Oh and she loves it when you play with her tits. The way you fondle them is almost aggressive. Scratch that—it’s really fucking aggressive. You’re slapping her tits, leaving red marks all over the milky white skin and pinching and twisting the stiff nubs atop her breasts, all while she mewls and cries out in that strained voice that makes you throb even harder inside of her wet walls and makes you grit your teeth like your a dog waiting to chew on a bone.

“D-Daddy,” she pushes out, past the fingers that close her airways and past her groans and moans and sighs. “Harder.” And your thrusts are starting to cut her off, but she has more to say. When it comes out, each word that she spits out is punctuated by a thrust of cock into her pussy, and it’s the hottest thing you’ll ever hear.

Fuck.

You thrust deep inside her.

Me.

Your cock drives itself deep into her, slicking itself with her juices.

Harder.

And if words could linger in the air, hers certainly would.

You fuck her hard, and fast, and deep—hammering her into the counter, nailing her defenseless pussy with a pace that you would have thought was rough and callous were it not for the fact you knew this was exactly how she wanted it. All she can do is hang on, grasp onto the counter with a knuckle-white grip with her hands as you take your liberties with her body, fucking her as hard as you can, as deeply as she can take it. The cups on the counter shake, the toothbrush inside one of them shaking under the force. It’s loud, but you hear none of it. You hear only the sharp sighs of pleasure that leave Wonyoung’s lips, and the wet slap slap slap of your crotch as it hammers her cunt again and again and again, your cock drilling her, pounding her, making her yours if you weren’t already doing that.

It takes a little long, but the haze of lust parts for a moment for you to realise that you're getting closer and closer to getting what she wants out of you. While the thought of burying yourself inside of that quivering, pulsing pussy to let it milk every last drop of cum from you is ever so enticing, that small part of you that wants to own her pushes you to fight against the urges. Not that there’s any harm in giving her what she wants, but it’s just that you don’t want to reward her bratty, manipulative tactics. She knew for a fact that she could tie you up and ride you over and over till you were dry—she’d done it before. But instead, she’s chosen to fulfil her needs in a less direct manner, maybe for fun or maybe just because she felt like it.

“Yes,” Wonyoung hisses, spit flying into the mirror and her palms slipping on the counter. “Just like this Daddy.” And she’s making sure to make eye contact with you through the mirror, letting her eyes do most of the talking. If anyone’s curious, the look she gives you is saying, I’m your good little slut. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me. Please, and it's nothing short of hot and tethering far over the line of lewd. At this point, neither of you are in a state where you're capable of coherent thought, nor are you capable of thinking about anything else except each other’s bodies and the wet, lewd squelching of cock filling Wonyoung’s pussy. It goes on and on and on, a cycle of your hips hammering the back of her legs and your cock spearing deep into her cunt. She takes it so well, drinking you in hungrily, coiling around your shaft like a snake as if it was begging for you to stay in her forever. The sight is enough to make your balls tingle and your toes curl, and your hand around Wonyoung's throat tightens to the point where the only thing that can leave her lips is a groan as her airflow is reduced.

She’s tighter, hotter, wetter. Her pussy fits you like a glove, moulding around your cock as it pumps in and out of her at a pace that you had no idea you were capable of. The hand around her neck is nothing but an outlet of pleasure for you, and she’s loving it. “Such a good girl,” you mutter, watching from the mirror as her mouth slacks and opens while she’s being pumped full of cock. “You were made to take Daddy’s cock, weren’t you?”

Her equivalent of a yes is a sharp, strained groan—an amalgamation of phonics and whatever sounds the lack of air flowing to her throat permits her to make. She’s so fucking messy down there, and your cock is sliding in and out of her with ease, aided by her slick juices that coat your shaft and let it disappear and reappear from between her legs with ease. The motion is almost graceful if it weren’t for the fact that it was a sordid one, and you take a moment to admire the way your shaft glistens in the light of the bathroom while you fuck her the way she wants it: rough, hard and tethering over the edge of callous. If it weren’t for the hand around her throat, she’d be making herself hoarse with all the moaning she’d be doing.

And the hand around her throat is bringing her so much pleasure, if the way her pussy squeezes around you when you choke her is any indication. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked being choked. While she didn’t like gagging on your cock, she sure as hell loved it when your fingers clasped around the muscles and made her gasp. She liked the sensation of being deprived of air, be it when she was riding or when she has her kness buried into her shoulders and was being fucked into the bed like a slut. You were always afraid of hurting her, but when she shots you that look, the one that says, come on, you can do better, you know that she’s getting exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. It was just a matter of how hard you squeeze around her throat before she either cums or passes out, though the latter has rarely happened before the former.

“Daddy!” she chokes, and you know exactly what she’s about to say next. So you release her throat from her grasp, bunch a lock of her hair in your closed fist and you pull back. Her eyes squeeze themselves shut. Her back arches deliciously, her voice now free to finish shat she’s aching to announce. “I’m fucking…”

You never expect her to finish her sentence. Wonyoung’s eyes open, and a gasp leaves her open lips. Her walls, already vice-like, tighten so hard around you that you think you might come there and then. You feel how close she is.

“Fucking cum for me, Wonyoung. Cum around my cock like a good little slut.”

Wonyoung does as she is told—and the quivering, trembling orgasm she experiences is almost frightening in the way it overwhelms her body, turning her into a wet, hot mess. Her pussy tightens and pulsates, her fingers claw against the marble counter, and her entire lower body shakes violently, as though she had lost control of her nerves and muscles. For a few beautiful seconds she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your grasp, breathing heavily.

It's good. It's so good, but it's not quite enough to get you to your finish. Not yet.

(And if anyone’s asking: it’s not that the sex isn’t good. It’s mind blowing, amazing, and whatever word that can be used to describe “fucking incredible”. She’s hot, so tight and fucking soaked down there. You’re horny, throbbing and on the verge of filling her full of your seed. But you’ve said it before and you’ll say it again—you’re not rewarding bratty manipulation. As tempting as it would have been to simply pound her from behind until you gave her needy pussy the load of semen she so desperately wanted, you knew that there was something even better that you could do.)

You pull out of Wonyoung, your shaft glistening under the hotel light. Her eyes are wide with shock as you withdraw yourself from her body, pulling her away from the counter—but only enough to have her lean back against you and not stand up completely. Her mouth opens to say something, but she's interrupted when you turn her face to you and kiss her. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, your tongue slipping into her mouth and massaging her own, lapping at the roof of her mouth as her tongue swirled around your own. You bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention. When her eyes flutter open, you whisper, "I'm not finished."

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You turn her around, push down gently on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Wonyoung on her knees with her pretty little face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you finally bury yourself inside and cum down her throat, but that would just be a repeat telecast of every other night with her. Spice things up; give her the liberty of creativity with your cock.

And of course, Wonyoung perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth. Grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other, Wonyoung quickly launches into a hard and fast blowjob, taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with a rapid pace while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion, just like she did in the shower. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. Your hand finds a clump of her sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. No, you weren’t going to push her head down onto your cock; you had to give her the space to work on her craft.

And of course, she exceeds every expectation out there. Your eyes shut involuntarily, your brain unable to handle any sensations beyond the wet, hot cavern of Wonyoung’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft with tight, soft lips. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. With each subsequent entry her tongue becomes more adventurous, beginning with quick swipes left and right on your shaft with each entry and ending each exit with a swirl of the tip around the head of your cock. While she tastes herself on your cock, letting her juices mix with saliva, her hands work in perfect concert with her mouth, one joining her lips at your shaft and pumping up and down, a twisting motion to her wrist while her free hand works gently with your dangling balls, fondling them with considerate fingers. She plays with them softly yet hastily, her fingertips working their magic between the sacs with expert attention.

You are content to stand there with your eyes shut, simply enjoying the feel of your cock pumping in and out of her mouth at a fervent pace, but a small part of you knew that you had to see it happening in order to truly believe it was all real—and so with a not insignificant amount of self-control, you force eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Black locks bob up and down frantically above your cock, doe-like eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you as her cheeks hollow and her jaw unhinges even more to accommodate your length.

It all becomes too much, and it hits you all at once—having her pump your shaft in the shower, eating her out then fucking her—and you quickly find yourself nearing that inevitable peak.

“Fuck, Wony—” is all you manage to say before your orgasm overtakes your world.

Wonyoung releases your cock from her mouth a split second before you erupt, shooting long, thick strands of hot semen all over her pretty little face. Her face glazes over in pleasure and you are all too happy to watch as strand after strand of cum lands on her cheeks, her pretty little nose, and finally her open mouth and jaw. You watch, through half-lidded eyes drunk with pleasure, as the thick streams of cum flow down her face, dripping onto her upper chest and those perfect breasts of hers. Her face is flushed and her mouth open, as though she herself was on the verge of orgasm (she probably was, and she was going to make it your problem as soon as she got your cum off her face).

You want to remember the way she wipes your cum off her face with the back of her hand, how she licks it all up like a cat licking its own paw before moving to clean the stray strands of cum off the tip and sides of your cock. You want to remember how she rises so gracefully even though she was a sweaty mess, and how she gently takes your hand and guides you back into the shower for another clean up.

And back under warm water, you want to remember how she kisses you, and how she whispers, “next time, I want that big load in my pussy.”

“What?”

And it’s hard to meet Wonyoung’s eyes as you set down the papers from the doctor. You can feel her confusion, her frustration, her rage from across the dining table in your apartment. It isn’t pretty. Nothing about this situation is.

“It’s a neurological disease,” you tell her, all while you’re looking at the MRI that’s in the middle of the table. You’re really just regurgitating what the doctor told you—it’s the only thing you have the capacity to do right now. “They ran their tests. They told me what I suspected. I’m losing my ability to read and write, to understand language. In 2 years—give or take —I won’t be able to express my thoughts. I’ll be spouting gibberish. What people say, what I see — on pages, street signs, everywhere — they’ll all be unintelligible to me.” She’s silent, and it unnerves you in every way possible. You haven’t even gotten to the worst part of it all. “My mental competence will deteriorate. I’ll have to live off a tube cause I’ll forget how to eat and drink. Dementia will follow shortly.”

Now would be a great time for her to say something, anything to break this silence. But she is silent, unmoving and reticent in her seat from across you. You have no choice but to gulp and deliver, in your personal opinion, the worst part of it all, “By the time I forget how to breathe I… I would’ve lost all my memories by then.”

She chooses the moment after the last word leaves your mouth to pick up the MRI scan and look at it.

“So… Everything we’ve built up till now will just… Disappear?” she whispers. She sounds hurt, scared and everything in between. You bite your lower lip.

“Yes.” There’s no point sugarcoating it, it’s inevitable anyway. Face it now, sulk later… You think that’s the best way to deal with this piece of news. You hope that the matter-of-fact tone of voice that you’ve chosen doesn't betray how frightened you are by the prospect of losing everything you know. “We can’t stop it. It’s in my genes.”

She sets down the scan, and when you look up, you see the tears flowing down her cheeks and it makes you want to cry as well.

She stands up, shoulders her handbag and walks towards the front door.

“Where are you—” you begin. “I’m going somewhere else to think,” she interjects.

When she slams the door behind her, you feel like you’ve let her down in so many ways. There’s a burning in your chest that you can’t describe. The first hot tear rolls down your cheek, and you let the rest that well in your eyes flow down without resistance.

You don’t want to remember what it feels like to be helpless—the emptiness, the rage, the sadness, the confusion is all so overwhelming. But you figure that you’ll have to feel it again at some point down the road.

Might as well figure out how to cope with it now, when Wonyoung isn't there and you're all alone with your thoughts.

When you awaken later that night in your bed in the apartment, it takes you a few moments to determine whether the soft, slim body climbing atop you is real or part of some wonderful dream—but the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, and the soft, pleasant smell of her hair, convinces you that this was all real.

Wonyoung places soft kisses on your neck and jawline, before moving to your mouth and kissing your lips softly. You are still only half awake, but your senses and instincts take over, and you find your mouth welcoming her kiss and returning it with one of your own, your hands moving to either side of her hips and finding, to your surprise, that there was only bare skin there and no clothing.

“Wony…” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.

“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”

She’s suddenly reappeared after walking out on you, and you have yet to process the slew of emotions that have come your way. Part of you wants to stop her, to talk things out with her so that you could: a) figure out if she was still mad at you and; b) verify that she wasn’t drunk. But the part of you that formed the majority of your conscience knew that she needed comfort as much as you did, and that she needed something to assuage her and make her feel like everything would turn out alright. So you find yourself relaxing underneath her, letting her scent fill your nostrils as her tongue dances with yours.

She straddles you, and your hands begin to run up her naked body, up from her slim thighs to her chest where the ample mounds sat proudly, her nipples erect and stiff. She isn’t wearing any underwear, and your fingers brushing against the slick of her pussy is enough to verify that for you. She’s naked atop of you, kissing you like you just confessed your love to her or like you’re about to go on some mission and never return. It’s not lustful, but it’s full off passion and aims to soothe not stir.

She breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open. In the dark that is pierced by the street lights of the city, you want to remember the way her eyes glimmer and shimmer as she breathes heavily. There’s no alcohol on her breath, and from the way she’s cradling your face, you can infer that she’s not mad at you in the slightest.

“You okay?” she whispers, and her tone is soft and warm, like that time she spoke in the shower of her hotel about signing that contract with her company so that the two of you could officially start dating. It’s been some time after that, but you still hang on to the way her words made their way to your heart. “I didn’t mean to startle you if I did.”

You respond by nodding, and it’s enough to convey: I’m alright. You brush away the hair that falls in front of her eyes, and you really want to remember how silky smooth her hair feels in your hands.

“What are you doing?” you ask her, making sure to keep your tone as warm as her own. She blinks, goes silent for a moment, then answers, “I’m making amends.”

She holds your gaze, you hold hers. The staring contest ends when you gently pull her in for another kiss, and you want to remember how she softly moans into your mouth while her thumb, smooth and tender, caresses your cheek.

When the kiss breaks again, her hands snake their way down to your sweats. You assist her in removing your shorts—a very clumsy affair: tangled hands and arms and lots of chuckling. But your cock does finally spring out from your boxers, the ones that have been discarded in the corner of the bed, together with her clothes. When it’s all done, you have the pleasure of witnessing the sight of her slim frame straddling you once more, long legs surrounding you on either side of your thighs while she peppers kisses on your chest.

“I’m sorry I left you to deal with… Everything. Alone.” she begins, “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that… I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t angry”

And from your lying position, you lift a hand to cup her cheek. “We can talk later.”

She gets the message, but bends down and kisses you nonetheless. You’d probably have trouble falling asleep later in the night, and she’d wake up and you’d have this same conversation again. You’d rather have it later than now, not when the wound is still fresh.

Wonyoung lets a soft smile play on her lips. You are slightly aware of her raising her hips, her right hand finding its way between your bodies to grasp your wet, erect shaft, and line it up with her entrance. She breaks the kiss for the third time that night, searches your eyes for approval to continue with this. Was it make up sex? You didn;t know if it was for sure, but it sure as hell felt like it. What you do no for certain is: you’d like to experience this now, and you want to etch this in your memory for as long as you can before it fades with the rest of your mind.

You give her the slightest of nods, and you feel the head of your cock press against her wet, tight opening. Slowly, carefully, Wonyoung lowers herself down onto your shaft, your cockhead parting her tight lips to impale her pussy. She gasps loudly as she impales herself fully, and she opens her eyes slightly to match your gaze. You brush stray locks of hair away to reveal her face fully, and you bring her mouth back to yours to kiss her deeply. As your tongues duel, she begins to raise her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before lowering it once more, and soon she has found a soft, slow rhythm as she rides you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours.

She raises herself upright and lets her hands rest on top of your chest. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes closed, lips slightly parted and the wisp of a smile on her lips as she rocks her hips. From where you lie, you watch as Wonyoung takes you in and out of her body with soft grinding motions, riding you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft as it fills her over and over in slow, tender strokes that make her shiver. You watch as your shaft appears for a split second or so before driving back into her, each disappearance accompanied by a soft spike of pleasure. As always, she’s letting moans and sighs and gasps tumble freely from half-parted lips as she takes you in and out of her slowly, rocking her hips with innate grace and elegance. All you do is let your hands rest on her thighs, moaning softly to encourage her as she rides you lovingly, tenderly, a far cry from what you’re used to when it comes down to sex with Jang Wonyoung.

Through the night, your cock glides in and out of that perfect pussy, elicits moans and gasp and sighs and cute little cusses when you hilt yourself deep inside of her and tug a little at her hair. Her hands were always active, sometimes caressing your chest, sometimes on your jaw, sometimes behind your head as she snaked an arm behind your head to keep you locked where you were just so she could sneak in a kiss. You came in her mouth, her ass, her pussy. She came on your fingers, your cock, your mouth. She cussed a lot, almost passed out once or twice. You cussed a lot two, and you caught her when she almost rolled off the bed (the two of you laughed for a minute about that situation before you ended up spooning on the floor, her leg in the air and your cock pumping in and out of her while she had your back to you and your face in her right hand).

Bottom line: it was wonderful, wonderful make up sex that ended with both of you sweaty and panting and wanting more from each other but you guys just don’t have that energy to keep going. It was a novelty for both of you, and you wanted to remember just how special she could make you feel, even in the impurest of acts.

The flash of the polaroid camera is almost blinding, but you power through and keep your eyes open. Like a child that’s seeing snow for the first time, Jang Wonyoung watches excitedly as the polaroid emerges from the slot in the camera, and she’s all too eager to grab it and lay it face down on the coffee table in your apartment.

“I thought you’re supposed to shake it?” you ask, watch as she fiddles with the camera for a little bit before she snaps a selfie with her newest purchase. She gives you a look that basically translates to, “uh, are you dumb?” and waits for the next polaroid to emerge from the slot before she launches into her lecture.

“Shaking the polaroid to make it develop faster is a myth,” the way she sounds so official and everything is so cute. You can’t help but smile a little as she sets the other polaroid down. “It shifts the pigments and blurs the photo, but an idiot like you would need a genius like me to tell that to you.”

The remark is clearly meant to be biting, but it’s nothing short of hilarious to you. “When did you become a camera nerd?”

“Ever since I got this,” she lifts the polaroid camera up and hits you with that you’re on camera smile. “Maybe I should do an ad for this brand. Increase their sales, you know?”

She leaves you to think on that and retrieves the first polaroid she took: a picture of you and her on the couch of your apartment. Not the grandest first photo, but hey, a memory is a memory, and you really are just focusing on cherishing those at the moment. As she leaves the couch to clip the polaroid onto the photo rack (a bunch of metal wires on a metal frame with wooden clips to hold photos) she just set up, you grab your journal next to you and flip it to the page you wrote on a few hours before. With your pen (that you now carry around just about everywhere with your journal), you scribble down a new part of today that you want to remember. It was her idea to journal down everything you wanted to remember.

The entry goes right under the one about Wonyoung’s new camera.

She looks so happy with that new camera. Bet she’s going to go back to the dorm and show it off to all of her members because she’s a fucking child. I hope that…

And you trail off in your writing, What you wanted to say was just on the tip of your tongue just a second ago. Why can’t you remember it? It was literally just in your head a minute ago…

No.

You shut the journal. It makes a soft yet substantial thud as the leather cover slaps against pages. You place your pen in your pocket, set the journal back down on the couch and stand up to walk towards your girlfriend, who is currently adjusting the angle that the wooden clip holds the polaroid at. She senses you walking up to her, steps aside and makes a space for you to watch her struggle. You would offer help, but you know that it removes half the fun for her when you do something for her.

She fiddles around a little more, makes a couple of grunting sounds under her breath, curses a little, and next thing you know, she exclaims, “tada!” while pointing at the first occupant of the photo rack. You roll your eyes, throw an arm over her shoulder and look at the slightly blurry photo within the white frame.

“With the camera,” she tells you, her tone soft and warm like… Like… Fuck. “I hope that we can help our memories live on. Sounds pretty deep huh?”

You can’t help but chuckle in agreement. You take a moment to stare at the two faces that occupy the space in the polaroid, and you hope to God that they will never, ever look foreign to you. It’s a futile prayer, you know, but a glass-half-full mentality is the best chance you have at not spiralling out of control.

Wonyoung lays her head on your shoulder, silent and all sentimental as she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She lets out a shuddering sigh, and you know that she’s trying not to cry, cause in this situation she’s the one that will end up hurt at the end of it all. You’ll forget the pain of forgetting; she’ll remember the pain of being forgotten. It sucks, but it’s just the way it is. You hug her, hold her close and stroke her hair. You don’t want to forget what she means to you, what you mean to her.

How many more polaroids left till it all ceases to matter?

____________________

Hello! Hope you guys enjoyed this fic. I'm a bit rusty so this one might be a bit funny, but hopefully the style of storytelling I chose didn't fuck you up too bad. Non-linear storytelling will be the death of me. Also: I kinda didn't edit this one too much. My bad hehe.

This was really more of a PSA to cherish the ones you hold close to you, because you never know when they will just disappear. Love the people close to you, cherish them forever.

~Lots of love Nichuuu

#jang wonyoung #wonyoung smut #ive smut #ive wonyoung #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut #nichuuu #ansgt

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kithtaehyung · 4 months

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[ 3tan12 ] notes and updates!🍊

it’s going well! this week got busier than initially planned but i’m clearing out my whole night and a lot of my day tomorrow to work on this until it’s done. so drop day is still a Go for tomorrow🥳 most asks probably won’t be answered until i’m ready since it’s crunch time👩‍💻

this one is a rollercoaster, and not a short one nor an easy one. so be prepared🤍 bc there still won’t be any handholding😂

this isn’t the last chapter! some people think it is, but there’s more planned for the series👍

(new!) recommended reading nook: blankets, wine or a nice drink, 1-2 hours preferably with no distractions

estimated word count: 18k-20k

3tan server peeps: 3tan12 role will be released tomorrow! so once you’re done with the chapter, head into the 3tan12 room for post-read reactions hehehe

and as always, thank you all🫂 thank you for being here and for waiting all the same. just know that i’m okay, and i’m still working on this series and will continue to do so until it’s all wrapped up. because you’ve all made this journey one of the best experiences anyone could ask for—and hopefully it has also brought joy, comfort, and fun into your lives🍊

#love y’all #*ryenfictalk #3tan12 #3tanotes

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ataleofcrowns · 1 year

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Chapter 11 Progress [14/MAY]

Hey everyone, it's been a minute since my last update on the blog!! Happy mother's day to all the moms out there 💖

By the time of writing this, I have 40k words written for CH11, and I am both happy and mildly horrified to report that CH11 is looking up to be the biggest chapter yet by a mile. It's very likely the total word count will break through 90k words, primarily due to the LI routes.

First, I've finished the first draft for X's route for CH11 and am mildly exasperated by my inability to properly estimate how long these sections will be.

I thought it would amount to 10k at most, but X's route ended up with 18k words. This is mostly due to all the Imperial Court variations in their opening scene, because I'm a masochist. A single playthrough of X's route is more like 14k words, though, depending on the variations you get.

I'm also close to finishing R's route and have 8k words written for it so far. Their and A's routes will be a little less in word count, since they got more content in CH10, but they'll both likely still be 10-12k words. D's will likely be closer to X's route in word count, around 14-15k.

Altogether, this chapter's LI routes alone will likely be close to 60k for all four. So that leaves the rest of the 30k for the main plot, which I haven't started yet. I literally only have words written for R and X, as well as bits and snippets for A and D so far lol.

Please pray for me so that I can release this chapter in July and give you all a summer miracle 🙏🏼

Anyway, enough about the word count!! I've got some preview posting to catch up to, so beneath the cut you'll find various snippets for X and R's routes in CH11 that were posted on the Patreon.

Hopefully I'll be able to post some for A and D soon as well, once I dig into their routes in the coming weeks.

Here's a small preview of a bit you might see occur across all LI routes, though it still depends on who is appointed to your Imperial Court (and the Lord Samal referenced here is specific to X's route as well):

“Chief Minister, is this allowed? There must be procedure for the appointment of officials—” “It is all at the Crown’s discretion,” Chief Minister Karwan states simply, turning away from the representative again to face forward instead. “But this is highly unusual!” The Minister breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, quiet down! Were you not using the same technicalities to get your way a moment ago, you insolent dog?” “Do not speak to me that way!” Lord Samal erupts. “I serve Mîr Behram!” “And I was already serving the Crowns of this Empire when your master was still suckling at the teat!” the Chief Minister snaps. “Now be a good boy and come to heel, we have many more matters to discuss.”

Here's a preview for X's route:

“Why do you have that dagger?” You turn to look at $aname, taken aback by how stunned $athey appears. “$xname gave it to me.” “$cxthey gave it to you?” $aname repeats incredulously, glancing back down at the dagger in your hands. “Did $xthey tell you who it originally belonged to?” “It belonged to someone else?” You assumed $xname was the only one who owned it, but looking at it again, you can notice subtle wear and tear despite its well-cared-for state. Little scratches along its sheath, the edges of pearl looking a little worn along the handle. “Whose was it?” “$cxtheir mother’s.” Your fingers tighten around its sheath in shock, then twitch with the urge to put it away. “$cxtheir mother’s? Why would…” You look down at the dagger in complete disbelief. “Why would $xthey give it to me?”

And finally, here's a preview for R's route:

Your hands reach for $rthem, but then halt and hover in mid-air, uncertain of whether you should even touch $rthem while $rthey’s in this state. “It’s alright,” Perjin speaks quietly from beside you. “You can hold $rtheir hand, if you wish. Your magic won’t cause any problems.” You take a slow, deep breath, calming yourself as you sit down on the edge of the bed and gently take $rname’s hand in yours. “$crtheir fingers are cold.” Alarmed, you rub $rtheir hand, feeling how clammy and cool $rtheir skin is. You turn to Perjin. “Why does $rthey feel cold? What’s happening to $rthem?”

That was it for this update ✨

I’m posting further updates and CH11 previews on the Patreon for all tiers, as well as all sorts of fun extra LI/Crown snippets, so if you’d like more AToC content while you wait for CH11, consider pledging!!

As always, thanks so much for your patience and support 💖

#a tale of crowns #interactive fiction #progress report #preview

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pebblysand · 7 months

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just a little psa cause this has been on my mind: i know the castles chapters are getting longer (16 was 23k, 17 was 17k, 18 was 18k, 19 is currently 22k), and i know this isn’t necessarily the best reader experience. i know it’s a massive commitment of your time to read massive works, that ao3 doesn’t really allow you to mark where you want to stop, etc. and that it’s just Not Ideal.

whilst i do like long chapters (as a personal preference), i’ve always sort of considered 16k to be a hard line and previously, i used to just split the chapters whenever they got too long. i knew i had to land on an even number of chapters in the end (because of the rhymes in the titles) but i just figured it would all even itself out in the long run. #latermeproblem.

however, my issue is that this is now #latermetime. and, right now as i’m nearing the end of castles (🫠), i do need to make sure i land on an even number of chapters in the end, and be more intentional about it than i used to. i obviously have outlines and plans for each remaining chapter, but if they get too long as i write them because #shithappens, im a bit out of luck. splitting them now is a bit more of a gamble because for example: if i split 19, will i be able to find another chapter i can split down the line to break even? will i be able to split one before? etc.

so, at this point in time, i’ve decided to just let the chapters be long, and eventually go back and decide if i need to/can split anything when i do reach the end. i’m sorry you’re acting a bit as my guinea pigs for this 😅 and having to read/stomach these super long chapters. they probably won’t be that long in the final version. hopefully, that’s okay and doesn’t inconvenience you too much! i just wanted to give you a bit of a heads up.

#castles

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ladyaj-13 · 1 year

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I'm late, yes, but it is still technically January... :)

I hope you’re all having a good start to the new year! This month features Ziam and Larry.

Ziam

If It Makes You Feel Alive (It's Alright) - beardyboyzx - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @beardyboyzx - 18k, T, 2022 - uni AU, internal conflict, coming out. I loved this fic so much. Liam’s confusion and realisation is so well written.

Larry

I Want You (Won’t You Say So) - LadyLondonderry - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @londonfoginacup - T, 2k, 2022 - canon, tour buses, competitive smart watch wearing. Ahh, I loved this. It’s so funny, go check it out immediately.

After Midnight - zarah5 - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @zarah5 - T, 4k, 2013 - canon, protective Louis, first date. This is so tentative, strangely inevitable, and also so hopeful. This author needs no introduction but perhaps we need a reminder to re-read this little slice of perfection.

Ho Ho Hopefully - safetyfilm - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @larrieblr - T, 5k, 2022 - Elf!Harry, Christmas. This is such an inventive idea, where elves are given humans to find presents for. It’s such a cute Christmassy fic! I loved it.

Southern Comfort - kingsofeverything - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @kingsofeverything - E, 5k, 2022 - girl direction, American South AU. There’s a whole world in this fic. It’s written so evocatively, I would like another 40k please 🤣

Foolishly, Completely Falling - dea_liberty - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @dea - NR, 8k, 2013 - canon, friends to lovers, Tumblr. This fic is JUST. SO. GOOD. Louis is wonderful, the relationship between him and Harry is told so well, the Tumblr bits are hilarious. You’ve probably read this before, but isn’t now a good time to revisit it?

All Shook Up - littleroverlouis - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @littleroverlouis - T, 9k, 2022 - Elvis impersonators, American AU. This is so much fun, I want a ticket to this event please, and it comes with great art too!

It's Thursday. Let's Get (un)Dressed. - bananaheathen - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @bananaheathen - E, 9k, 2023 - tiktok, genderfluid Harry, strangers to lovers. This is so good. It’s sweet and soft and beautifully written, and both Harry and Louis’ characters in this are so wonderful.

Midnight - kingsofeverything - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @kingsofeverything - E, 10k, 2022 - omegaverse, bartender!Harry, friends with benefits. I’m pretty weak for clothes sharing and misunderstandings, and this fic has both in droves. I loved it.

Eyes on the Horizon - yeah_alright - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @uhoh-but-yeah-alright - E, 12k, 2022 - older Harry, skydiving instructor Louis, fluff and humour. Okay, so the idea of skydiving scares the bejesus out of me. I am perfectly happy to have reached an age where I’m unable to be peer pressured into it. But the writing here, for a few seconds, had me considering it 🤣 I also love the immediate pull between Louis and Harry. Go read this fic, you won’t regret it.

Saw It In Your Eyes - taggiecb - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @taggiecb - E, 15k, 2018 - flatmates, AU, tattoos, oblivious!Harry. God I love some good obliviousness, and I also love the way the author has portrayed the Larry relationship in this fic. They’re such good friends! (They’re clearly not just friends.)

Lonely Shadow Dancers - ohpleaselarry - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] - E, 20k, 2022 - canon but make it omegaverse, childhood friends, mutual pining. This fic is so well-written, the emotional reaction is real, omg. I loved it, and it was really unique to read these two points - childhood friends and omegaverse - folded into a canon setting, then also with a non-linear structure. Interesting and inventive!

Late Night Talking - kingsofeverything - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] @kingsofeverything - E, 53k, 2022 - famous/famous, half-AU (Louis is Louis, Harry is a talk show host), friends to lovers. Okay, yes. I may have been having a bit of a binge of this author’s fics, but WHY WOULDN’T YOU quite frankly, every single one is perfect. This one was exactly what I wanted, even though I didn’t know it.

#28th appreciation

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rhysstrongforksfagswag · 1 year

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Updates for the evening: I got through one of the harder scenes for me to write, and now I can say that the end is definitely in sight. Specifically, I have the ending scene planned, which any writer knows is a big deal since ending a story is no picnic.

My goal is for my first draft to be fully written by next week. I don’t want to give a specific day or even a proper definition of “next week” since that would just put too much pressure on me. Hopefully typing it up should only take a couple days since I’m a fast typist and I don’t have to come up with anything new which would slow me down. Then I’ll need to fix up obvious mistakes before getting out to some beta readers (ideally I can have 2-4 people beta read it for me, four is a steep goal but I know at least two people who could probably beta read it for me). Once I get the feedback from the beta readers I’ll start my revisions and hopefully I don’t get too bogged down in them. After revisions I’ll send them out to beta readers for one last look before finally posting it to AO3 (and post a tumblr post linking to it).

I am not exaggerating when I say that this is one of the biggest writing projects I’ve ever undertaken. The longest finished work I’ve ever written was an 18k word TNG fanfic and I wrote it back in high school. I don’t really write long-form fiction, original or fanfiction. And given that my creative focus has shifted to poetry in the past few years, that’s doubly true. The average length of work I’ve produced in the past 5 years is probably around 2000 words. I won’t hazard a guess for how long this fic is given that it isn’t done, but it’s certainly longer than 2000 words.

So, this is the part where I ask my friends and mutuals to please please read this once it’s published and leave kudos and comments. You don’t need much source knowledge to read it, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that positive feedback is my lifeblood as a writer. Any time someone says they think I’m a good writer, whether they’re talking about my fanfiction or my original poetry and prose, it motivates me to keep writing. Specific feedback and compliments especially motivate me. When someone tells me exactly what they like about something I’ve written, it’s way more helpful for me going forward as a writer.

The world of professional writing is a brutal place. If you want to get published, you may have to deal with dozens of people rejecting your work. Right now, I’m trying my best to get ready for that world. But when people ranging from my close friends to strangers halfway across the world tell me that what I created brought them joy, it’s all worth it.

#sorry for rambling I have emotions #rahne sinclair autobiography (real)#krakoan original

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atlafan · 4 years

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Office Neighbors - Part Seven

a/n: this still isn’t the last of these two, I just like them too much! hope you enjoy! (reblogs and feedback are super helpful!)

warnings: slight angst, fluff, and smut

words: 18K

masterpost

“What?!” Harry reaches to turn the light on, and squeezes your shoulder as a silent apology for the abrupt light. “How…?”

“He…had a heart attack, I guess. My mom tried to wake him up because she couldn’t hear him breathing, and…” She sobs louder. “I have to go to Connecticut, and-“

“Where’s Noah?”

“He had to go to Vermont this week for a client, it’s just Rachel and I here, and I don’t know what to do! I can’t bring her with me, can I? Should I? I have no idea how long I’m going to be gone for, or what my mom’s plans are. I mean, she may need to come live with me Harry! I’m just, I feel all alone right now, and…”

“I’m coming over.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not, I’m telling you that’s what’s happening. When’s Noah supposed to be home?”

“Wednesday.”

“Alright, Rachel can miss school tomorrow, and she can home stay here until he gets back, that way you can just leave tomorrow.” He says, pulling the blankets back and finding his sweat to pull on. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Just try to take some deep breaths.”

“Thank you.”

Harry hangs up and sighs. He blinks a few tears away before looking at you.

“Paige’s father passed away.”

“Oh no.” You frown. “That’s terrible.”

“Noah’s in Vermont, and she’s home alone with Rachel. I’m so sorry, but I have to go make sure she’s alright. As annoying as her parents are, she was close with her dad, and-“

“I understand.” You swallow. “You’re all she has around her, you should go.”

“Thank you.” He knees onto the bed to hug you. “You’ll be fine here with Andy?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair. “If I’m not back before he gets up tomorrow…wait for me to explain it to him, please?” You nod at him. “I have to bring Rachel back with me tomorrow. I’m gonna keep Andy home from school. I don’t know how he’ll take it, but I wanna make sure he doesn’t feel like he needs to be anywhere but with me, or if he wants to go to Connecticut with his Mum, I wanna give him that option. Fuck it, if I need to get him there I will, I-“

“Harry.” You stand up and take him in your arms, hugging him. “Go, she needs you.”

He presses his lips to yours before letting go of you. He grabs a couple of things before quietly heading out. You sigh heavily and get back into bed. You knew this was all part of loving Harry. All of this came with him, but it still stung a little to watch him leave. You groan and get over yourself. You couldn’t imagine going through what Paige was right now. You’d call Harry too if you were in the same situation.

Harry lightly taps on the front door of Paige’s home around one in the morning. She swings it open as she was waiting by the door for him.

“Harry.” Her voice cracks as she throws her arms around him.

He holds her close and lets her cry into him. He gets the door closed and walks them into the house so they can sit in the living room. He keeps his arms around her while she continues just to let it out. When he feels her breathing evening out, he speaks up.

“When did your mum call?”

“Um, it was my sister.” Paige says, wiping some tears away, looking up at Harry. “My mom called her first, and then she called me. They called an ambulance right away, and he was pronounced dead on the way there. I mean, I suppose it was peaceful since it was in his sleep, but...I thought he had more time, you know?” She sniffles.

“I know, I’m so sorry.” He rubs at her back and shoulder and she nuzzles into his chest.

“Thank god Allie lives within thirty minutes of them, I don’t know what I’d do. She said we’d talk more tomorrow, but she doesn’t think mom can live with her, she just doesn’t have the room like I do.”

“You only have the room because Allie didn’t wanna move out of the city to take this place. Now she’s using it as leverage.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“She couldn’t move out of the city, her and her husband need to live there for work…”

“I’m aware of that, Paige, I just think she set you up is all.”

“At any rate, she’s going to help my mom sell her condo, and-“

“Well, she should…she’s a fucking real estate agent. It’s the least she can do.” Harry scratches at Paige’s head like he knows she likes and it helps her calm down more.

“I’ll probably have to hit the road tomorrow to help with the arrangements. He’s had it in his will to be buried out there. God, I’m gonna have to take so much time off work, and all this before Christmas.” Her bottom lip quivers.

“Was it…a nice Thanksgiving at least?”

“It was! He was so much nicer than he usually is. Andy even made him laugh! I suppose it’ll be a nice last memory of him. I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to Andy.”

“He should go with you…to Connecticut. He’ll wanna say goodbye to his Gramp.”

“He’ll be so bored with me running around.”

“He can hang out with his cousins. I’m sure plenty of your family will be coming in for it.”

“Are you okay with him missing so much school?”

“It’s not like he’ll be missing much this time of year. I can talk to him about it tomorrow.” He grabs the blanket on the back of the couch to put over the two of them.

“Thank you for being here last minute. I felt terrible calling Noah the way I did. He could barely understand me, and I just didn’t know what else to do. Hopefully I didn’t wake poor Rachel.”

“This is a big deal, I wouldn’t leave you by yourself.”

“Wait…” She says after a few moments of silence. “If you’re here, where’s Andy?”

“At home.”

“By himself?!”

“No! Y/N’s with him…”

“You called her to have him stay with him?”

“No, she was already there, um, this was her first time staying over on a school night.”

“Harry.” Paige sighs. “You can’t leave your current girlfriend in bed to go be with your ex-girlfriend.”

“Well, I did, and I’ll deal with it later. She said she understood.”

“Of course she did! What was she gonna say, don’t go? She knows she couldn’t say that. Fuck, now she’s gonna hate me.”

“No she won’t. Listen, just try to relax, okay? You’re gonna have a long drive, I’ll be worried enough about you getting there in one piece. I should just go with you.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks it over.

“Nope, no way. My family would eat you alive if you did that. Noah will probably come once the actual funeral date is scheduled. I can drive on my own, I’ll be fine, I’m just still in shock.”

“It’s a lot to process.”

The two end up falling asleep together on the couch. Little did Paige know is that Noah cut his visit with his client short to get home to her, so needless to say he was little annoyed when he walked through the door at the crack of dawn.

“Um…hello?”

Harry and Paige’s eyes snap open and they stand immediately to get away from each other.

“Noah!” Paige’s eyes well up immediately as she walks into his arms. “You’re back so soon?”

“I got on the road as soon as I could. How are you holding up? I see you called Harry…”

“I…well…I didn’t know what else to do, and-“

“Well, I guess I should get home now that he’s back, and I guess Rachel won’t need to come stay with me. Let me know what you wanna do about Andy, okay? I’m gonna tell him he doesn’t need to go to school today either way.”

“Alright.” She nods. “Um, I’ll probably need a couple of hours. I need to speak more with Allie about everything.” She nuzzles into Noah for a moment before letting go of him. “I’m gonna go take a shower, thank you again for coming.” She gives his shoulder a squeeze before going up the stairs.

Harry and Noah share an awkward moment of eye contact.

“I didn’t think you two were still so comfortable together to fall asleep like that.” He says, crossing his arms. “And why would my daughter need to go stay with you?”

“Okay, first of all, we were both exhausted, so pardon us for falling asleep innocently on the sofa. Second of all, we both thought you wouldn’t be home until Wednesday, so I offered to have Rachel come stay with me until you got back. Or would you have preferred her stay here by herself?” Harry looks Noah up and down. “Don’t start with me, mate. She needed someone, and I’m the closest thing she has to family around here.”

“And you just so easily sprang into action?”

“Her father died! What would you have done? Stayed home and not come to comfort her? Give me a fucking break. I’ll chalk this up to you being tired or something because I sure as hell know you’re not accusing me of something.”

“I just think you should worry about your own girlfriend. I don’t think she’d love knowing you slept with Paige.”

“Don’t say it like that, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like Harry?! You could have told her to go back up to bed, and you could have stayed down here or gone home once she got back to sleep, but no, there you were with your arms around her. You’re not gonna get over her.”

“You don’t what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head. “I’m in love with Y/N, not Paige. I…you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. She called me, I came here, now you’re here, go make your fiancé feel better instead of worrying about me.” Harry practically spits before leaving in a huff.

You had trouble sleeping in Harry’s bed without him, so you got up early to make a big breakfast because you just didn’t know what else to do. The smell of pancakes filled the house, and it woke Andy up. He was all out of sorts because pancakes were usually a weekend breakfast. He came out of his room and you pouted at how cute he was. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt, no doubt Harry’s, and a pair of joggers, with his blanket wrapped around him.

“What’s going on?” He knuckles at his eyes before sitting down in front of the plate you made for him.’

“Dad had to step out, but he’ll be back soon. You, uh, don’t need to go to school today.”

“Did it snow?”

“No…he’ll explain when he gets back. Just, um, eat your breakfast and then go wash up if you haven’t already, yeah?”

“Okay…thanks for making this.”

“You’re welcome.”

You get comfy on the couch and watch some morning TV while Andy goes to brush his teeth and wash his face. Sister, Sister was on, a perfect distraction. Andy comes over to sit with you, but it was still so early, he just felt groggy, and he looked so adorable with his floppy curls in his face. He grabs one of the throw pillows.

“Could I…?” He gestures to put it in your lap.

“Oh! Yeah, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” He mutters as he gets his head comfy in your lap, and his eyes flutter closed.

You mindlessly play with his hair to keep him comfortable. It was something Harry liked you figured he’d like it too. You felt terrible for him. You didn’t know how close or not close Andy was with his grandfather, but you guessed this would be his first time dealing with a major death in the family. Harry comes in about two episodes into Sister, Sister and you put your finger up to your lips to signal to be quiet. He wants to cry at the sight in front of him. His son feeling so comfortable to cuddle up with you was so sweet. He wished he could do the same, but he needed to wake up a bit more before having the tough conversation with Andy. He sees that you’ve made coffee, and he sees the leftover pancakes and he smiles. Yup, this was exactly where he wanted to be. He sips on some coffee and then comes over to the two of you.

“Andy?” He says softly, rubbing his son’s back. “I need you to wake up, buddy.”

“Y/N said I didn’t need to go to school.” He groans.

“You don’t, but I have to talk to you about something…privately.”

Andy sits up slowly and gives Harry a confused look.

“Where were you?”

“At Mum’s.”

“Why?”

“Can we go talk in your room?”

Andy looks over at you and you nod to go with Harry, so he listens and stands up. Harry puts his hand on Andy’s back and mouths a ‘thank you’ to you. Once they’re both in his room, sitting on his bed, Harry takes a deep breath.

“Mum called me late last night…Noah was in Vermont so she didn’t want to be alone.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Um, well, Gramp…passed away.”

“What?!” Andy’s eyes start to tear up.

“He passed peacefully in his sleep, but Mum didn’t find out until late last night.”

“So, he’s, like, gone?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

“But, he can’t be! I just saw him the other day!”

“I know, these things can happen so suddenly sometimes. I’m really sorry.” Harry pulls Andy into him, and that’s when the waterworks start. Harry holds his son close as he lets Andy process everything.

“Is Mummy okay?” Harry’s eyes widen. He couldn’t remember the last time Andy called Paige ‘Mummy’.

“She will be. She’s gonna go to Connecticut later today to see how she can help Gram and Auntie Allie. Would you like to go with her? The funeral will probably be over the weekend.”

“It’s okay to miss that much school?”

“Of course! It’ll be excused.”

“Yeah, I…I think I would like to go with her.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know. I’m sure she’d like your company for the ride.”

“What about Noah and Rachel.”

“I don’t know what his plan is…I’ll be honest, he’s not happy with me at the moment.”

“Why? You, like, practically came to Mum’s rescue last night.”

“Exactly.” Harry sighs. “He wasn’t supposed to come back until Wednesday, and he came back early this morning to Mum and I asleep on the couch together, so that was a whole thing.”

“You fell asleep with her?” Andy whispers, not that you were listening in. Harry nods at him. “Yikes.”

“Big yikes.” Harry chuckles softly. “Anyways, no school today, or the rest of the week since you wanna go with Mum. I’ll call the school to let them know what’s going on. I need to go cancel my classes for the day, and I need to see what Y/N wants to do. I feel bad she was here alone with you.”

“She made really good pancakes for breakfast, and then she let me hang out with her. Better than any baby sitter.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Harry reaches to stroke Andy’s cheek. “Why don’t you go take a shower and then get your things ready? I need to pull your suit from my closet and all that.”

“Okay, I’m just gonna text Brandon to let him know I won’t be at school for a few days, is that alright?”

“Yeah, let him know.”

Harry leaves Andy to do his thing. You were now in the kitchen cleaning up.

“Hey.” He says to you. “I’m really sorry for just leaving you like that last night.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not…I…should have brought you both with me or something, but I feel like I was panicking or something, and-“

“Harry, she needed you. Her father died, I get it.” You turn to look at him. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Andy’s gonna go to Connecticut with her. I need to cancel my classes for the day so I can stay home with him until she’s able to come pick him up.”

“Okay, I’ll…I’ll do the same.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I wanna be there for you, for the both of you. I can post some online assignments. I’m sure the students won’t mind.”

“I…feel like you should know in case it blows up in my face later…um, I slept on the couch with Paige last night.” Your eyebrows shoot up at that. “She sort of latched onto me when I got there, and I was trying to calm her down, and we fell asleep. It was nothing, like we weren’t, I wasn’t spooning her or anything like that, like it was…you know, platonic, and Noah got home and woke us up, and we immediately got away from each other, and she went right to him, and then he got mad at me, and now it’s a whole thing, but it didn’t mean anything, Y/N, I was just trying to-“

“Harry.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Please, just stop talking, you’re rambling.” You look at him. “You just so easily fell asleep with her?”

“I was exhausted, and so was she. It just happened, I’m sorry.”

“Did you kiss her?”

“What?! No!” He makes a disgusted face.

“Did you call her anymore nice names?”

“Like what?”

“You called her darling last night, and it made me feel…gross.”

“Oh, baby.” He puts his hands on your shoulders. “I’m so sorry, no, I didn’t call her anymore nice names.”

“Okay.”

“Why would think I kissed her?”

“I don’t know…maybe you kissed her cheek or top of her head or something.”

“I swear I didn’t do that. I just held her to soothe her a little, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything, I was purely there as a friend.”

“Okay.” You sigh. “I’ll email Lucas to let him know both of our classes are cancelled today so he can send one of those text alerts out.”

“You’re not mad?”

“How could I be? Your cuddles could cure cancer, they’re very powerful. I’d want you to hold me too.”

“I…thank you for being so cool about all this. I feel like I’d go bananas if it were reversed.”

“Well, it’s not, so you don’t even have to think about it. Plus, you told me right away about it, and I appreciate you being so honest.” You smile at him. “Please eat something, I left you extra.”

“Thanks, I am kinda hungry.”

A little while later, as you and Harry are both on your laptops in the living room, Andy comes out with all of his things. Harry had texted Paige to let her know Andy wanted to go with her.

“Andy, I’m really sorry for your loss.” You say as he sits down on the love seat.

“Oh, um, thanks.”

The doorbell rings and Harry sighs as he gets up. Paige looks much better, he notices, but she wasn’t wearing any makeup, and she was in sweats.

“Hi.” She says. “Is he ready?”

“Yeah.” Harry looks back. “Andy, come on.”

“Mum…” Andy slowly approaches mother with a quivering lip.

“Hi, baby.”

They throw their arms around each other. You sort of just sit there awkwardly until Paige steps in further and notices you sitting there.

“Y/N! Hi…I didn’t think you’d still…um, never mind. We’ve got a long drive, Andy, let’s get your things in the car.”

“I’ll help with that.” Harry says, and quickly grabs Andy’s things. You stand up.

“I’m so sorry about your father.” You say.

“Thank you.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Andy says, hugging you. “The pancakes were really good.”

“I’m glad liked them.”

“Everything’s in the trunk.” Harry says. “What are Noah and Rachel doing?”

“They’re gonna stay in town until Friday, and then they’ll come to Connecticut for the funeral Saturday.”

“Dad, are you gonna come to the funeral?”

“No.” Paige and Harry say at the same time.

“Um, Dad doesn’t need to go to this, Andy. Noah will be there, though, so that’s good.” She looks at you briefly, and then to Harry. “Could you go get buckled up?” She says to Andy.

“Okay.” He gives Harry a hug before going outside.

“He’s very upset with me…” She says in a whisper.

“Who, Noah?”

“Yes.”

“Your dad just died…”

“I know.” She deadpans. “He wasn’t happy about what he walked into, and even though he’s trying to be sympathetic, he thinks you and I are too codependent sometimes. The co should only apply to the parenting or something, I don’t know.” She blinks some tears away. “He’s never been a jealous man, Harry, I don’t know what his problem is.”

“He probably thinks that if I snapped my fingers you wouldn’t marry him or something. He’ll get over it. A few days apart, and he’ll forget all about me.”

“I just don’t want this to taint how good everything is with all of us. I shouldn’t have let you come over.”

“Don’t say that…don’t let him make you feel worse.”

“Did you tell Y/N what happened?”

“Yeah.”

“And she was okay with it?”

“She…understood. Not something we should make a habit of though.” He smirks and she rolls her eyes.

“Obviously. If his stupid fucking client hadn’t needed an in person consult then we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

“Gee, thanks, nice to know I’m always second best.”

“I’m going before I smack you. Goodbye.”

“Safe travels, give my condolences to the family.”

“I will, thanks.” She looks over at you again. “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye, sorry again!”

Harry closes the door and lets a long sigh out before looking at you.

“I need a fucking shower.” You nod at him. “Join me?” You nod again and follow him into his bathroom.

“Noah’s really pissed, huh? I slightly overheard.”

“Hard not to, I suppose.” He strips himself of his clothes and turns the water on as you get rid of your own clothes. “He…and remember this was years ago before they were even together, but he knows about the few times she and I hooked up after we broke up, so I think he thinks that could all easily happen again, but he’s fucking delusional if he thinks I would ever do something like that. I would never let her cheat on him, nor do I have any desire to fuck her, please know that.” He steps into the water and guides you in with him.

“Then why does he think she wants to fuck you? That must clearly be the issue.”

“I swear she doesn’t, but he think I have this, like, spell over her or something, I don’t know.”

“You are dangerously charming.” You smirk.

“Stop it.” He chuckles. “This isn’t new. This tension builds every so often, and then we have these little flare ups. It’s why we don’t hang out a lot, not that we would anyways, but we don’t do a ton of things together unless it involves Andy, rightfully so.”

“Then it’s like you said, he’ll get over it.”

“Exactly. He loves her, he just needs to get over himself. If I had to take any bets I’d say he won’t wait until Friday to go to Connecticut, I’ll bet he’ll get there tomorrow or Thursday.”

“Well, at least Andy’s with her now.”

“Yeah, I’m proud of him for going.” He wraps his arms around your waist. “Now, can we please talk about anything else?”

You smile and wrap your arms around his neck as the warm water cascades over the two of you.

“Why talk at all?”

He smiles and leans in to kiss you. Harry needed some comforting of his own, and if his cuddles could cure cancer, then your kisses could cure just about everything else.

“So…you and Harry both cancelled classes yesterday…” Janette says to you over coffee Wednesday morning at the little shop downtown. She was the physical version of that knowing eyes emoji.

“It’s not what you think…Paige’s father died.”

“Oh my!”

“I know, and it was this whole thing, and I didn’t wanna leave him, so I cancelled also. It’s fine, all my students did their online assignments.” You shrug and take a sip of your warm drink.

“Is Harry alright?”

“Yeah, I think he felt bad more so for Paige. He seems pretty indifferent about Nathan being gone, though. He wasn’t exactly nice to Harry.”

“I definitely get that. In laws can put a lot of strain on a relationship.”

“He spoke to Andy last night when they got there, and he’s doing fine, so that’s all that matters.” You say as you both brave the cold back up to campus. “Men are…jealous creatures.”

“Very territorial. Like a dog with a fire hydrant.”

“It’s a little degrading, isn’t it? To be compared to a fire hydrant?”

“What happened, exactly?”

“He fell asleep with Paige, like I said, it was a whole thing. Anyways, I guess Noah was really upset about it, but I…didn’t care all that much. I feel secure in what we have, but Harry told me if the situation was reversed he would have flipped most likely.”

“If you had fallen asleep with an ex, you mean?”

“Correct.”

“Interesting.”

“I thought I would have been more upset, especially since I know how Harry sleeps. He’s like a koala bear.” You chuckle. “But he assured me nothing like that happened, and I believed him.”

“It’s a good sign he told you straight away.”

“I guess I just don’t fully understand the jealousy. I mean, I don’t exactly love it when she just drops by, but that’s only because I’m never sure what my place is, you know?”

“Harry is a special breed of man, Y/N. He’s extremely attractive, yes, but he’s also a dork. Fucking a ton of girls probably wasn’t in the cards for him, so when he did find a girl to fuck, he latched onto her. A simp, as the kids would say.” She smirks.

“He told me he used to hook up a bit before we met…”

“And he did, but he had these regular girls. He was terrible at a one night stand, he just couldn’t bring himself to fuck a girl and then leave, you know? So he’d be with the same person for about a month and then move on.”

“He is very simp-like, now that I think about it. Like…my water bottle could be on the coffee table, and I could easily get it myself, but I’ll ask him to do it, and he doesn’t even question me, he just happily grabs it and hands it to me.”

“There you go then. He’d do anything to keep you. Noah’s probably the same with Paige. Noah probably knows that he and Harry share this quality, so that’s when things get embarrassingly territorial.” You both enter the building. You had gotten an extra coffee for Harry so you go right to his office.

“Got you a coffee, Har.”

“Oh!” He smiles and stands up to take it from you. “Thank you.” He kisses your cheek. “How is it out there? Nippy today.”

“Very.” Janette says. “Fucking windy. Winter break can’t come soon enough.” She sighs. “I gotta go prep for my next class, I’ll see you both later.”

You take your jacket off and sit on one of his chairs.

“How does soup sound for dinner tonight?” He asks as he comes to sit next you.

“Oh, are we having dinner tonight?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “I have a lot of work I need to do tonight, babe.”

“I just thought…um…”

“I know Andy’s gone, but I can’t stay over every night of the week, Harry. I didn’t get anything done over Thanksgiving, I need to buckle back down.”

“But think of all the work you’ll get done when I’m away in London.”

“Don’t do that to me, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re making me feel guilty for being busy.” You sigh. “I can’t come over tonight, maybe tomorrow, or even Friday?”

“I could come to your place when you’re done working if that’s easier.”

“Harry, I love spending the night with you, and I’ll probably miss you when I go to sleep tonight, but I may not go to bed until after midnight depending how in the middle of things I am, I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee.

“It won’t be like this forever. Just another year or so, and then it’ll be done.”

“And…you’ll stay here? You won’t get your degree and then say see you later?”

“Well, they hired me already, I may not be tenure track, but I’m here for the long haul. I’m here with you for the long haul.”

“Then I think it’s time I gave you something.” He gets up and goes into his bag, and then comes back to you. “Here.” He drops a key into your hand.

“What is this?”

“Spare key to my house.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s silly for you to always ring the bell and wait, and it’s getting colder so…just come in, you know.”

“Harry, this is so sweet, thank you.” You stand up and hug him. “I’ll…I’ll get a spare for my place made for you too.”

“Only if you really want me to have it.”

“I do! I really do. It makes sense on both ends.” You smile. “I love you so much.” You kiss him, but are interrupted by a tap on the door.

“Um…I’m so sorry, I have a meeting with Dr. Styles…”

“That you do, Brooke! Come on in.” Harry says brightly. “Professor Y/L/N.” He nods to you.

“Dr. Styles.” You nod back and giggle to yourself as you close the door behind you.

“Sorry about that, Brooke, we’re here to discuss spring courses, yeah?” Harry asks as he pulls her information up on his computer.

“Yeah! And no worries, it’s sweet that you’re dating, actually. Known you almost four years now, Dr. Styles, I was wondering when you were gonna settle down.”

“You and me both.” He mumbles as he looks over her current courses. “Okay, most important is your senior seminar…”

Thursday night you were pacing around in your apartment in just a large t-shirt, one of Harry’s. You had a highlighter in one hand and a journal article in the other. Harry was being amazing about giving you a little space, you felt sort of bad that he was alone in his house, but he was a big boy, and you were on the verge of a breakthrough. You were getting incredible work down, and you couldn’t afford to not.

The thing you learned about Harry, though, was that not only was he territorial, he was clingy. He was getting his own work done for sure, but he wasn’t under as much pressure as you were. Your PhD wasn’t on the line, he just had different deadlines for his manuscript. You hoped you weren’t putting him through too much by not being as readily available.

“Little too hard there, H.” Andre says as he shakes his hand out.

“Sorry, let’s take a break.”

Harry and Andre would sometimes go to the same boxing gym, and Harry had asked him to go with him since you were busy tonight. They each take their gear off and grab their water bottles.

“Everything alright?” Andre asks him.

“Oh, yeah! Everything’s fine, just miss Andy.”

“How’s he been doing?”

“Right now he’s fine because he’s getting to see a lot of his family that he doesn’t normally get to. Saturday will be rough probably, but he’ll be okay I think.”

“Can I ask…why aren’t you with Y/N right now? If I were a single parent I’d be jumping at the chance to be alone with my girlfriend.”

“I thought she would too, but you know how it is when you’re doing thesis work. She didn’t want to change up her routine and not get some work done. I’m hoping when I go to London she’ll get a fuck ton done so she can take a little break. I wanna invite her to the cabin for Andy’s February break.”

“So…she’s invited to that, but not to London?”

“Way too soon for that.” Harry says. “It’s only been five months. I did just give her a key to my place, though, and she gave me one to hers, so that’s nice.”

“I think you’re just scared to have her meet your mumma.” Andre smirks.

“Leave my mum outta this.” He says warningly. “That’s not it at all. Three weeks is a long time to spend alone with someone in a foreign country.”

“Fair point. She’d have no escape when she realizes you’re a twat.”

“Oi!”

“Come on, I’ve caught a second wind, let’s punch the bag for a bit.”

“Happy Friday.” You say to Harry Friday morning when you see he’s in.

“Morning, babe.” He smiles and gestures for you to come in. He gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“Do anything fun last night?”

“I went to the gym with Andre.”

“Oh good! Did a little boxing?” You get into a fighting stance and pretend to jab at Harry which makes him laugh.

“Yeah.” He grabs your wrists to get you to stop. “That’s enough of that.”

“What’s wrong? Don’t want me to beat your ass up?” You giggle.

“You’re in a particularly chipper mood for someone who hasn’t had much sleep.”

Perhaps to help yourself get to sleep you used your favorite purple item to tire yourself out, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Just happy to see you, now let me go.” He releases your wrists. “Do you feel like grabbing a bite to eat tonight?”

“Like a date?” He perks up.

“No, I mean hanging out as friends, why would we go on a date?” You furrow your brows and gasp. “Harry, do you like me?”

“You’re the least funny person I’ve ever fucking met.” He chuckles.

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re an idiot.” He smiles and shakes his head.

“Okay, okay, yes, like a date. I feel bad that I was busy these last couple of days, I thought it might be fun to actually go out for dinner. Give you a break from cooking.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice, actually. Where do you feel like going?”

“Thai?”

“Oh, excellent idea. Could definitely go for some drunken noodles. Let’s make it like a real date, I’ll pick you up at your place and everything.”

“Does seven work?”

“It’s perfect.”

You blow him a kiss and leave his office. Harry was absolutely feral, he didn’t know if he was going to last all day and evening without getting you naked, but he was up for the challenge.

Harry wanted to kill you when he saw you walk out the door of your apartment building. You were wearing this long coat, but you had heels on, and you were wearing red lipstick. How the fuck was he supposed to get through his meal. You smile at him while he opens the car door for you.

When you get to the restaurant and get seated, he wanted to kill you again. A red dress to match your red lipstick.

“You’re staring.” You say as you look over the menu, and then look up at him through your lashes.

“You just look really nice, is all.”

“I do? I just threw this look together. Thank you.”

“Right.”

“You were thinking of the drunken noodle, yeah? I might do that too.”

“Wanna split that and some sushi.”

“Sure.”

You each order a cocktail with dinner and Harry gets distracted watching your lips move around the straw each time you take a sip. Not only that, but your lipstick ends up smearing onto your chopsticks. You both chat about how your weeks went, and what you were planning for finals.

“How’s your actual paper coming?”

“Good! My references page grows every day. I’ve got twenty pages written so far, but I have to edit what I have so it’ll be like ten when I’m done. It’s awfully frustrating.”

“Any time you want me to look something over for you I’m happy to.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. Lisa’s been looking things over for me. She’s really happy with my work.”

“Why wouldn’t she be, you’re brilliant.” He reaches across the table and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Thought I was an idiot.” You pout.

“I was teasing.” He rolls his eyes.

You hum your response just as your entrees come to the table. The drunken noodle didn’t not disappoint, and neither did your second drink. Once dinner is through, and Harry pays (even though you nearly lunged across the table for the check), you head out to his car. He hands you a mint to suck on and he pops one into his mouth. When he pulls up to your building, he parks, and turns the car off. He unbuckles and so do you, but you stop him from opening the door. He looks at you confused, but you grin, and get your fist around the collar of his jacket and yank him towards you, slotting your mouth over his. It was probably too cold to be making out in the car, but Harry was too busy feeling dizzy from your kiss to care. You suck on his tongue, tasting the mint he had been sucking on. Your hands go to his hair, messing it up completely. Your tongue drags from his jaw to his neck, and then you bite down.

“Can’t leave a mark there.” He grunts, but doesn’t pull you away.

“You’re absolutely right, sorry.” You wipe the corners of your mouth. “Let’s go inside.”

Harry nods and gets out of the car, jogging around the other side to open your door. Once you’re inside your place, and your coats are off, you’re on him. You take him by surprise, pressing him up against the wall right outside your bedroom. You suck on his bottom lip as you unbutton his shirt. You leave kiss marks from your lipstick down his stomach. You undo his belt and get his pants to drop to the floor. You get into a ski-squat position to kiss his growing bulge over his boxers.

“Y/N, please.” He breathes.

“You tease all the time.” You look up at him. “Why can’t I?”

“Because…”

“What’s that?” You stand up fully. “Can’t find a good enough reason?” Harry swallows hard as you look him up and down.

“I’m a bit tongue tied at the moment.”

“Don’t tell me after all this time that I still make you nervous, Harry.” Your lips ghost the shell of his ear as your hand slides down his body, palming him through his boxers.

“Who said you made me nervous, ngh, in the first place?” You step back and give him a look. “Okay, you used to make me a little nervous, but that was only because my feelings for you caught me off guard. If I had time to get ahead of it, you would have been the nervous one.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Harry kicks his jeans away, and dips down to lift you over his shoulder. You squeal and giggle as he carries you into your bedroom. You loved when you could rile him up like this. Just as there were times you wanted to make all the decisions for him, you liked it just as much as when he made all the decisions. After the week you had of research and writing, you just wanted to be taken care of. That’s why you wore the dress, and that’s why you wore the lipstick. You knew it would work him up all night.

“What are you gonna do to me, Harry?” You ask innocently once he’s gotten you on the bed.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks as he shrugs his shirt the rest of the way off and sets his glasses down.

“I want…you to do whatever you want.”

“You sure wanna give me the full reigns like that? Because I would love to-“

“You’re not fucking my ass.”

“Ever?”

“I’ll tell you what, I get to do you first. You should have to feel what it’s like, and if it doesn’t hurt, then you can do me.”

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“Okay?!”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to fuck your ass?!”

“If it means I get to fuck yours, I’ll even let you tie me up when you do it.”

“Oh…well, that’s actually pretty tempting.” You look off as if to think about it. “A conversation for another time, though. For now…just do whatever else.”

“Okay.” He knees onto the bed and hovers over you, kissing you tenderly. “I’m gonna fuck you with these heels on.” You giggle at him. “With just these heels on.”

The best kind of shiver goes up your spine and you bite your bottom lip. You get off the bed and stand so he can unzip your dress. Harry slowly drags the zipper down, and kisses on your neck and shoulder. Your dress drops to the floor and you smirk as you turn around.

“What…the…” His eyes nearly pop out of his head.

He thought you were simply wearing black nylons, but you had actually worn thigh high stockings attached to a garter belt. You had a pair of black lace panties and a bra to match.

“Do you like it?”

“You’ve been spoiling me with all these little outfits.” He hands go to your hips. “You look so incredibly sexy, Y/N. How’d I get so lucky, hm?”

“I ask myself the same question all the time, Harry.”

His hands slide up your back as your mouths reconnect. He unhooks your bra and tosses it somewhere before getting you back on the bed. He kisses on your neck while his palms rub over your breasts, getting your nipples to pebble. He tweaks them a bit before working his mouth down to nip and suck. He practically slobbers all over you, but you don’t care at all, his mouth on you feels too good. You realize he’s giving you a hickey right on your nipple and you groan.

Harry works his way down your body, biting at the parts of the garter that were attached to your stockings. He tugs it all the way off, leaving you in the lace panties, stockings and heels. He licks his lips before kissing you through the lace.

“H-Harry, please.”

“Just wanted to see how wet you were.” He smirks and tugs the panties down your legs. “Good now?”

“Mhm, thank you.”

He opens your legs and blows softly on the area before licking the flat of his tongue up your center. He had you right where he wanted you, so he stops and you look up at him.

“Get on your stomach for me.” He says. You furrow your brows in confusion but you do as he says. You start to get on your hands and knees, but he stops you. “Nope, just stay flat on your stomach, babe.”

“Okay.” You rest your chin on your folded arms.

Harry sits on his calves next to you and starts running his hands over your ass. You fucked up when you told him he could do whatever he wanted because now he was just going to take his sweet time with you. His hand slips between your cheeks and he rubs around your folds. You take a deep breath as he daintily plays with you. He would take his hand away and your body would arch to chase after him. He was getting you wetter with each touch. His middle finger slides inside you and just as soon he slides it out. You look over at him and see the slight smirk on his face as he looks at his now sticky finger. He does it again and again, and then he slides two fingers inside you.

“Harry.” You whine.

“You’ve been stressed, I want you to relax.” He says as he slowly fingers you. It was agonizing, but it felt good the deeper he would go.

He slides his fingers back out and drags all of the wetness up to your other hole, and then he slides back inside, nice and deep. He shifts himself a little so he could still finger you, but his other hand had a grip on one of your ass cheeks so he could see what he was doing better. He brings his mouth down to nip at your plush skin, and then his tongue slides over your hole. You grit your teeth from the sensation. In the five months you’ve been intimate with Harry this aspect of things still surprised you. You welcomed it because he knew what he was doing and it made you feel really good, but it was still surprising nonetheless. You squeeze around his fingers and start grinding against him and the bed. You start breathing heavier, and you feel your orgasm bubbling up. He feels it too, so he pulls his mouth and fingers from you.

“Harry, please don’t edge me tonight, come on.”

“For someone that wants me to be in charge you sure like telling me what to do.” He smirks down at you, and smooth some hair away from your face. “If you wanted it quick why didn’t you just fuck me instead?”

“I…I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna make you wait for long. Just…humor me, yeah?”

“Okay.”

He smiles and goes to sit up against your headboard. He opens his legs and looks at you.

“Come sit in front of me.”

You sit up and do just that. He uses his legs to hook over yours to keep yours open. You welcome the weight of his on yours. He didn’t want you to be able to clamp together, this you were sure of. He makes a fist with your hair and wraps it around his wrist to move your head how he wants. He tilts your head so you’ll look at him, and he leans in to kiss you. Just as his tongue meets yours, his other hand travels down your body, giving your breast a nice squeeze before getting to your clit. You gasp into his mouth. His lips don’t leave yours even though you’re practically breathing him in and out. His fingers go between your folds, gathering all you’ll give him, and then back to your clit to rub circles into you. You hook an arm up around his head to tug at his hair, and your other hand digs into his thigh. He loved when he could get you like this, just totally at his mercy.

“H-Harry.” You mumble against his lips. He sucks on your bottom lip as two of his fingers slip inside you while his thumb stays on your clit. “Fuck.” You breathe.

You were getting close again, and you wanted to close your legs desperately, but his were stronger, so he keeps you in place. He does let you grind against him, though, so you’re grateful. His curled fingers were petting perfectly against your spongey front wall. You could feel how swollen your lips were getting from him continuously kissing you.

“Oh…oh my god.” You moan.

“Yeah? Feel it coming?”

“Yes.” Your eyes flutter open just for a moment, and you see him waiting for you to finish your statement. “Harry.”

“I want you to feel so good, come for me, Y/N.” He says as his lips ghost against yours.

“Shit, H-Harry.” You were squeezing around his fingers again. “Feels amazing.”

“Let go, Y/N.” He bites at your lower lip again and starts rubbing your clit furiously.

“Oh, fuck!” You start panting against him and then you lose it. Your head rolls back against his shoulder and your back arches. Your nails press crescents into his thigh. He rubs gentler as you come down from your high and catch your breath. He presses kisses to your cheek and neck.

“Wasn’t so bad was it?” He whispers into your ear, causing goosebumps to raise all over your body. “Waiting just a little bit?”

“No, it was fine.” You crane your neck to look at him. “You just like to play too damn much.” You smirk, and it makes him laugh into your neck. “Will you fuck me now?”

“Yes, baby.”

He lets you settle comfortably onto your back as he gets his boxers off, and a condom on. He gets on top of you and slides in, a sigh of relief leaving your lips. You hold him close to you, wrapping your arms and legs around him, your chests rubbing against each other. He rocks in and out of you as you hold his head to your neck. He sucks on your skin, overwhelming all of your senses. You start feeling your eyes burn with tears, and you try to blink them away. Oh no, you think to yourself. He kisses up your cheek and feels the wetness from the tears, and stops altogether to look at you, cradling your cheeks his hands.

“What’s happening, am I hurting you?!”

“No! I…” You start laughing as you cry. “I just feel really good.”

“So you’re crying?!”

“It happens sometimes. I can’t really control it…it’ll stop on its own.”

“Fucking scared me.” He chuckles and wipes his thumbs under your eyes. “You…you look like a raccoon.” He bursts into a heavier laugh and so do you.

“Good, can’t wait to see how fucked up I look when we’re done.”

You did look awfully fucked up, and you washed your face accordingly before getting into bed with Harry. He wraps himself around you, and you almost feel high from how cared for he makes you feel. He was like the teddy bear you always wished you had growing up. Harry came with a lot of baggage, more than you really thought, but then again you only knew so much about him when you were just friends. Sometimes it scared you to basically be stepping into a motherly role for Andy when you had no idea how to be a mom. You babysat when you were younger, and that’s all you really had to base watching him on. But times like these, when Harry was holding onto you like his life depended on it, you really felt like none of it mattered. You’d take being a little scared of the unknown over being without him completely any day. You were happy that you were friends for a while before you got together, but knowing what you know now, and how happy he made you…perhaps you would have been less stingy about your feelings towards dating a colleague.

Sunday evening you were cooking dinner with Harry at his place. He had let you be Saturday so you could get some chores done, and so you could work, which you greatly appreciated. He did, however, ask you to spend the night Sunday because he wanted you there when Andy got back from Connecticut. The conversation they had on the phone Saturday after the funeral was rough, and Harry didn’t know if he could handle Andy being so emotional alone.

Just as you were getting the casserole you were making into the oven, you both hear the front door open. Andy looked exhausted, as did Paige. He perks up a bit when he sees you with Harry.

“Hi.” He says shyly. “I’ll come out in a minute, I just wanna put my stuff away.” He says and goes to his room.

“How was it?” Harry asks Paige as she steps further into the home.

“Rough…I…can’t believe I really had to say goodbye to my dad, you know?”

“I’m so sorry.” You say.

“Thank you.” She swallows. “Um, my mom is in the car, so I can’t stay long. She’s going to move in with us…which was a super fun conversation to have. Allie is taking care of her condo, and we were able to pack most of her essentials while we were there.”

“If there’s anything I can do…” Harry says.

“I know, I’ll let you know, thank you.”

“How is she holding up…your mom?” You ask.

“As good as she can. I think she’s still processing everything, she’s been stoic during the day, but I’ve heard her cry at night. I’m glad she’ll be with all of us. Noah was a huge help in keeping her distracted. He actually ended up coming with Rachel on Thursday.”

Harry looks at you quickly, and then back at Paige.

“I figured he would. Is everything fine with you two?”

“Water under the bridge…he also…feels bad for how he spoke to you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Anyways, Christmas will definitely be interesting this year, but we’ll all get through it together. There are some things I need to meet with you about…some stuff in my dad’s will you need to know about. Would you be able to meet for lunch or something this week?”

“Sure.” Harry takes out his phone to look at his planner. “I’ve got time Wednesday if that works for you.”

“Wednesday works. I’m gonna be working from home for a bit to get my mom settled, so I’ll be able to meet you easily.”

“Alright.”

Andy comes back out with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m gonna get going, honey.”

“Okay.” He gives his mom a big hug. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She waves off to Harry and you before leaving.

Andy looks at the door for a few moments and then turns to look at Harry. His eyes well up, and his bottom lip quivers.

“Come here.” Harry says softly, and Andy throws himself into Harry’s arms. “I know, you’ve been through a lot.”

You come over to the two of them to rub Andy’s back, and it helps him breathe easier.

“You’re really brave, Andy. You did a good thing by going with your mum.” You tell him.

“If you wanna take another day off from school you can.” Harry tells him.

“No, that’s okay.” Andy sniffles and looks up at the two of you. “I miss my friends, and I just wanna get back into my routine.” He steps away from Harry and wipes his eyes. “Can I go call Brandon?”

“Sure, dinner will be ready in an hour if you feel hungry.”

“Okay.” Andy looks at you. “Are you staying the night?”

“I’ve been invited to, yes.”

“Good.” He smiles. “I like it when you’re here.”

Your heart nearly bursts as he walks down the hall to his room. Harry kisses your cheek and goes back into the kitchen.

“How are you doing, are you okay?” Brandon asks Andy over the phone.

“I’m doing better now…yesterday was the worst. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom cry so much. Noah helped her calm down, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, it’s weird, I’ve seen my mom cry before, and my dad is usually the one that can get her stop completely.”

“Your dad is so chill, it’s probably just his entire vibe, you know?”

“I wish he had been there.”

“Why didn’t he go?”

“I don’t really know. I guess my mom’s side of the family doesn’t exactly love him, but I don’t know why. She has to meet with him later this week to talk about something my Gramp left behind. No one tells me anything, though.”

“Did you get to see your cousins at least?”

“Yeah! It was so weird, like, people were laughing and having fun every day until Saturday hit. Then it all got real. I was looking at a ton of pictures of my Gramp from when he was young, and I sort of look like him…in the nose.”

“I was gonna say, you look just like your dad.” Brandon giggles. “It’s the hair.” Andy giggles too.

“That’s another reason why I wished he was there. My mom never gets the mousse right, only my dad really knows how to put it in.”

“Is that you get those really curly curls?”

“Yup.”

“Did you have to wear a suit?”

“Yeah, but I need a new one, I’m getting too tall for this one.”

“You’re gonna be a giant, Andy.”

“Last time I saw my doctor, she told me I was probably going to be six feet!”

“Holy shit!”

“I know!”

“So…you’re gonna be back in school tomorrow?”

“Yeah, did you get all my homework for me?”

“Mhm, it’s in my locker, and I took notes for you too.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. It was really boring while you were gone…I…you know, I missed you.”

Andy could feel his cheeks heating up.

“I missed you too.” He says softly. “Um, maybe you could come over sometime this week. I’m sure I’ll need help catching up.”

“Yeah! Hey…you missed when we talked about bus buddies for winter program, and…well…you’ll be mine again this year, right?”

“Who else would I sit next to?” Andy laughs. “Of course.”

“Okay cool, just wanted to make sure.”

The oven goes off and you take the casserole out. Harry takes a big whiff and hums in adoration. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck.

“Smells so good, babe. Thank you for putting this together.”

“Oh, it was no problem.”

“Ahem.” Andy says, smirking at the two of you. “You could save that for your room, you know?” He says as he sits down at the table.

“It’s just a hug.” Harry rolls his eyes, and cuts up the casserole as you get the plates.

“Right.”

“How’s Brandon?” You ask, trying to change the subject. You set a plate down in front of Andy and he thanks you.

“He’s good…he asked me to be his bus buddy for winter program again this year.”

“That’s good.” Harry says as he sits down.

“And he got all my homework for me and took extra notes. I told me we could hang out after school at some point this week, would that be okay?”

“Sure.” Harry shrugs. “I could bring you both to school so you could get your homework done.”

“No, I’d rather hang out here if that’s alright.”

“Okay, just pick a night and let me know so I can make something good for dinner.” Harry smiles.

Andy chews on his inner cheek, having not taken a bite of dinner yet.

“Andy…I can make you something else if you’re not into the casserole.” You say.

“It’s not that…my stomach just feels weird.”

“Weird how?” Harry asks. “Do you think you caught a bug or something?”

“No…I…feel, like, nervous? I can’t really describe it.”

“Nervous about what?” You ask softly.

Andy looks at you and goes to speak, but then he looks at his dad, and decides to take a bite of food instead.

“This is good, Y/N, thanks for making it.”

You and Harry look at each other. You know it’s best not to pry, so you let Andy sit there and eat. After dinner is cleaned up, Harry goes to take a shower since he didn’t have time earlier.

“Y/N?” Andy says to you shyly.

“Yeah?”

“Um…you’ve never seen my room before, would you like to?”

“Sure! I’d be honored.” You smile and walk down the hall with him. He shows you everything and you look around. “This is a really nice space, Andy.” You note the Ariana Grande poster on the wall. He also has a smaller poster of Michael Che and Colin Jost. “Do you watch SNL?”

“Sometimes Dad lets me watch reruns, yeah.” He looks over at his poster. “They’re both really funny, even if I don’t always get it.”

“Yeah.” You smile. “My dad used to tape SNL so we could watch it at as a family on Sundays. Then he could fast forward the more adult content.” You chuckle. “And you like Ari?” You point to the other poster.

“Her voice is pretty.” He mumbles.

“I think so too. She’s very talented.”

“Dad said he’d take me to see her next time she tours…but he doesn’t really like her music.”

“Well, luckily for you I do, so I’ll just go with you.”

“Really?!”

“Sure.” You shrug.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel nervous around my dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…how did you put it one time? Butterflies, can butterflies feel like being nervous?”

“Sometimes.” You sigh with a smile. “Yeah, your dad gives me butterflies a lot.”

“Does it ever feel scary?”

“It did at first, but now I welcome it. Is that the type of nervous you’re feeling?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” He starts sniffling and you’re not sure what to do.

“Can I sit next to you?” He nods yes and you sit next to him on his bed. “Would you like a hug?” You didn’t want to just touch him without asking. He nods again, and you put your arm around him. He leans into you. “Is this because Brandon told you he missed you?”

“I just wasn’t expecting him to say that. I told him I missed him too. He said school was boring without me. I…he makes me feel this way a lot, and it keeps happening more and more, but I don’t really know why.”

“You two are just really close, it’s okay.”

“Did my dad give you butterflies before you got together?”

“He made me feel nervous, yeah. Like…I guess I wasn’t putting two and two together much when he would say or do certain things. I had a feeling he might like me, but it took me some more time to realize I liked him too.”

“You know how I knew he liked you?” He looks up at you with a smile.

“How?” You smile down at him.

“He started talking about you a lot at dinner. At first he’d say my friend said something funny today, or on Sunday nights he’d tell me he went out with his new friend, or how smart his new friend was during game night. Then he started using your name, and anytime I’d ask him about you he’d, like, smile before answering. It was obvious.” He rolls his eyes. “Then when you came on that hike with us…I had never seen him so…”

“Rigid?”

“Yeah! Good thing I was there, or he never would have invited you to my party.” He scoffs.

“Yeah, good thing.” You give his shoulder a squeeze. “Andy…you have a lot of time to figure out how you’re feeling about things and people. Middle school is a really confusing time, but I want you to know whatever you’re feeling is totally valid, and I’m happy to talk any time, okay?”

“Okay, thanks.” He smiles at you, and you share a hug before you get up. “I’m gonna read and then go to bed.”

“Alright, I’ll let your dad know, sweet dreams.”

You come out to the living room to find Harry watching TV. You plop down next to him and sigh.

“That was cute.” He says to you without looking at you.

“What?”

“The chat you just had with him.” He looks at you now with a smile.

“How did you…?”

“I popped my head in for a second while you were sitting with him. I didn’t want to disturb the moment so I walked away quickly.”

“I think he has a crush on Brandon. He has butterflies when he talks to him, and judging by what Brandon said to him, I could see Brandon maybe having a crush too.”

Harry sighs and nods.

“I…I’m petrified of him getting his heart broken this young.” He runs his hands over his face. “I’m almost hoping it’s reciprocated.”

“I think we’re all hoping it is.” You give his thigh a squeeze and snuggle into his side. “What are we watching?”

Harry was really nervous to ask you the question he had been avoiding all day, but he was getting down to the wire, and he needed to rip the band aid. It was Wednesday, and Harry was supposed to meet Paige, but she couldn’t get away from her mother for lunch. She had some time in the late afternoon, though.

“Y/N?” Harry taps on your door frame and you smile at him.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“Could I ask a huge favor of you?”

“What do you need?”

“Would you be able to pick Andy from school? I can call them and let them know you’re safe for him to go with. I…wasn’t able to meet Paige for lunch, but she has time in a bit, so-“

“What time?”

“He gets out at 2:30…”

“Sure, I could do that. My last class ends at two.”

“God, you’re a lifesaver. I’m sorry if this messes with your afternoon.”

“It doesn’t. Do you want me to get something started for dinner or help him get started with his homework?”

“No, that’s alright. Oh, shit.” He groans.

“What?”

“Brandon’s supposed to come over after school, fuck.”

“Harry, I can get them both home. I can just work up in your loft, right?”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

Harry’s entire body relaxes and he comes over to you. He tilts your chin up so he can lean down to give you a steamy kiss.

“I love you so much, thank you.”

“You’re, um, you’re welcome.” You mouth feels dry all of a sudden. He kisses you again before you can get a sip of water.

“I’m gonna call the school and text Andy. I have to go in a minute, thank you, Y/N, seriously.”

You nod as he steps out of your office. It made you sad sometimes because Harry really was doing the single dad thing, and you knew it wore in him at times. You wanted to help alleviate things as much as could.

“I’m so sorry about lunch, my mom was insisting on coming for the conversation, and I just didn’t wanna put you through that.” Paige says when they sit down at a coffee shop that was a midway point between their homes.

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Y/N’s picking Andy up from school?” Harry nods at her. “Good.” She swallows. “So…basically…my father put you in his will.”

“What?!” She slides some documents for him to read. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know exactly. He last updated it three years ago, and he left all these personal letters with it. This one was for you…take your time to read it.”

Harry takes the envelope and opens it. His eyes widen when he sees the pristine calligraphy:

Harry,

I know I haven’t always been the best father in law, or whatever I’m considered to be since you and Paige never married. Looking back on it, I know Lydia and I could have handled things better with you. I’ve had some time to reflect, and I know money can’t buy love, but I hope you’ll accept this as some form of an apology. Thanks to you, I have a grandson, and he’s one hell of one. I’ve loved watching him grow, and every day I’m thankful you didn’t just pack up and try to take him to London with you. I’m leaving him some money as well, mostly a trust fund that can be used for when goes to college. He can access it when he’s eighteen. My wish is for him to go to whatever college he wants, and not have to worry about the finances. The money I’m leaving you, however, is to be set aside for a rainy day. I trust Paige with what will be left to her, but I need to know you have something just in case she ever runs into any trouble. I know she can take care of herself, but I know if she ever had a problem she’d go to you first. I know she’s met someone new, but she still speaks of you so fondly. I’m glad you two have worked things out the way you have, even if I don’t always express it. That’s more so for Lydia’s sake. You know what they say: Happy Wife, Happy Life.

All my love,

Nathan

Harry was speechless, and teary eyed. He had no idea Nathan had been harboring such kindness. Why not pull him aside some time and just talk man to man? The last time Harry saw him was at Andy’s eleventh birthday party, and now he was just riddled with guilt for sort of being a dick. Maybe if he had made more of an effort to speak with him they could have had this conversation.

“Wow, uh…”

“His note to me made me speechless too.” Paige says. “I think…I think he knew he had developed a heart condition, and kept it to himself so we wouldn’t be worried. He always said being the father of two girls made him want to be our superman, so…”

“So he kept his ailments to himself.” Harry sighs with understanding.

“Course I was closer with him than Allie, but I feel like that happens with any youngest kid.”

“You were very precious to him. You could tell. Allie isn’t close with your mother either, to be fair.”

“Can you blame her? Who would want to be close to such a shrill woman?” Paige scoffs. “God, and now she’s living with me.” She groans. “At least she has her own area of the home.”

“Paige…you need to make sure you set some boundaries. This is your home that she’s living in now, you get to make the rules.”

“I’m terrible at doing that though.” She pouts. “And Noah doesn’t wanna make waves with her either, even though she loves him. You’re way better at laying down the law. You never had a problem standing up to her.”

“Because I had nothing to lose.” He smirks. “What could she say to me?”

“Very true.” She chuckles. “Anyways, the lawyers are going to be cutting all of the checks soon. Since it’s an inheritance you shouldn’t have to worry about it getting taxed as income, and the check will be mailed directly to your house. The money for Andy will stay in the trust fund he set up.”

“Right, okay, all that sounds good. I mean, I know we both put away for his college fund, but it’s nice to know we have some extra cushion for it.”

“Yeah, definitely.” She sighs.

“it’ll get easier, Paige.”

“I know…” She looks away for a moment. “I just feel terrible that he’s not going to get to walk me down the aisle.”

“Maybe Andy could do it.”

“No, I want him to walk my mom down.” She looks at Harry. “It doesn’t matter right now, anyways. It’s months away.”

“This summer, right?”

“Mhm…you got our save the date?”

“I did.” He nods.

“She’s invited too…Y/N…I’m assuming she’ll be your plus one.”

“Oh, do I get a plus one? Here I was thinking I’d go stag and try to get in good with one of your lovely cousins.”

“Harry!” She smacks his hand playfully. “Don’t even joke.” She rolls her eyes.

“In all seriousness, you really don’t think it’ll be weird with me there?”

“No, I want you there…everyone does. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not necessarily.” He shrugs. “I want you to marry Noah. I just know other people are going to think it’s weird because they don’t understand how we all are.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Meanwhile…

You get to the middle school precisely at 2:30PM. You weren’t sure if Andy remembered what your car looked like, so you decide to stand outside of it, and lean against the passenger door. It was a bitterly cold day, clouds covering the sun, but you don’t mind it. Slowly but surely you start to see kids trickle out. Lines going out to buses, and other kids meeting parents at their cars. Andy and Brandon come out all bundled up. You wave at them and they hustle over faster.

“Hi, boys!” You say brightly as you all get into your warm car. “How was school?”

“Good.” They say at the same time.

“Y/N, how come Dad couldn’t come get us?”

“What am I, chopped liver?” You scoff and it makes them both laugh.

“No…just wondering.”

“He had to go meet your mum to chat about some stuff. They were supposed to meet for lunch, but this time worked better so I’ll be taking you home and hanging out. Anything in particular you boys want for dinner?”

“Can we have pizza?”

“Nice try.” You look at them through the rearview mirror. “Dad bought plenty of groceries on Sunday, we’ll be eating in.”

“I thought you said she was fun?” Brandon whispers to Andy.

“She is.” He whispers back and you smile to yourself.

You get the boys inside, and they practically race to Andy’s room. You fix them with a snack of cheese and crackers, and then go up to Harry’s loft. You didn’t go up there often because it was his work space, but you needed the extra quiet. His setup was great. He had an extra docking station so he could just plug his computer in and use two screens. All you had at home was an HDMI and a spare monitor. Your eyes widen when you see he’s added a new photo to his desk. He had a lot of family photos on the walls up here, ones of him and his mum and sister. Ones of his nieces and nephews, quite a few of Andy. Your favorite was the picture of him holding Andy skin to skin when he was first born. But the new one sitting on his desk was of the two of you. He must have just gotten it printed because it was from Thanksgiving. Phil had taken a nice picture of the two of you while you were still at his place.

“God, he’s so sweet.” You pout at the photo and shake your head. Focus, Y/N.

After two hours you decide your eyes and wrists need a rest. You go down to Andy’s room and clear your throat to get their attention. Brandon was sitting on Andy’s bed with a notebook and textbook open, and Andy was sat at his desk.

“You’re still doing homework?”

“Sixth grade is heavy, Y/N.” Andy says.

“Yikes.” You chuckle. “Well, have you decided what you’d like for dinner?”

“Tacos?”

“Sure, I could make tacos.” You nod. “I know your dad got everything for that, and I bet he’ll like it for dinner too.”

“Do you need help?” Brandon asks.

“I can handle it, but thank you very much for offering.” You smile. “When you finish your homework feel free to go play some video games or watch TV.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Andy smiles and turns back to his studies.

You nod and make your way to the kitchen. You were wondering when Harry would be home exactly. You didn’t think his conversation would take as long as it was. You knew you needed to make some ground beef for the boys, so you get that started first, and then you get the black bean crumbles together for you and Harry. The rest is pretty easy, you just needed to put out all of the fixings. Due to the sizzling of the meat in the pan you don’t even hear the front door open.

“Mm, smells like tacos in here!” Harry chimes as he takes his coat off. He comes over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “You’re an angel you know that?”

“It’s just ground beef and taco seasoning.” You giggle as he plants kisses to your cheek before letting you go.

“No, it’s more than that. Thank you so much for getting them. What are they up to?”

“Finishing homework, I told them they could play video games when they were done, but dinner’s almost ready, so maybe that’ll be an after dinner thing.” You shrug.

“I’m gonna go say hi to them.”

You nod and watch Harry walk down the hall.

“Hi, boys.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, Mr. Styles.”

They were both sitting on Andy’s bed, looking at something on Brandon’s smart phone.

“Dinner’s just about ready, why don’t you both wash up and then come to the table?”

The boys get up and go into the bathroom to wash their hands. Harry comes out to you putting everything on the table.

“Smell so good, babe, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.” You smile.

The boys scarf their food down at dinner so they can play their video games. You and Harry don’t mind, it gave you a chance to have some adult conversation at the table. He tells you about the money Nathan has left him to put away, and he tells you about the letter he had left for him.

“That’s incredible.”

“I know, I’m still in shock, honestly.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Okay, I guess. It’s a really big change, you know? Losing a parent, and then having the other one move in with you. Her relationship with her mum is so strained, but maybe it’ll get better with them having to be around each other so much. That’s my hope anyways. Lydia can be such a…” He looks over at the boys and then back to you, whispering, “bitch.”

You nearly choke on your food from laughing. Harry cleans up the dishes since you cooked, and you go sit on the couch to watch the boys play Mario Kart.

“B, do I need to bring you home, or is Dad coming for you?”

“Dad’s coming around seven, Mr. Styles.”

Harry looks at his watch and sees that it’s quarter of seven.

“Did you get all your homework done?” He asks.

“Yes.” They both say at the same time.

Brandon’s dad comes to get him at seven, and he gives Andy a hug goodbye, and thanks everyone for having him.

“He’s so polite.” You say.

“Yeah, I’m really glad Andy is friends with him. Nice to have a good kid around him, you know?” Everyone goes back to the couch. “An hour of TV, then I want you in bed with a book, buddy.”

“Okay.” Andy says as he gets cozy on the loveseat.

Harry gets up a couple of time while the two of you watch TV after Andy goes to bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I just wanna see if he’s asleep yet, and he is. Totally zonked out now.” He grins at you.

“And?”

“So…” He nods towards his bedroom door.

“Oh!” You grin and get up. “You don’t think he’ll hear anything?” You whisper.

“Nah, he sleeps with music on.” Harry says as he closes and locks his door. “But locking the door can’t hurt for the time being.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. “Missed you today.”

“Missed you too.” You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him.

“I wanna treat you. You were so good to me today, good to them.”

“Harry…I don’t need anything special for doing the bare minimum. I’m your girlfriend, and you have a kid, what I did today is just part of it.” You shrug.

“Even still.” He kisses you. “I wanna make you feel good.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “No teasing, I promise.”

“Okay.”

You strip yourself of your clothes and lay down on his bed. He strips down to his boxers and hovers over you, taking the time to lick into your mouth, to kiss you like he needed to. He’s wanted your tongue on his all day. Kissing you alone really did just make him feel good. It made him feel fuzzy all over, and he loved it. He trails his mouth down your body, not spending too much time on your breasts, but enough. He really didn’t want to make you wait that long this time. He parts your legs and kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, leaving a couple of love bites behind that had you squirming.

He sucks two of his fingers into his mouth and then brings them down to your center, pushing inside and twisting. He watches as your eyes roll back, then you prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him. He pumps in and out of you twisting his fingers each time. He sits up slightly, getting one of your legs over his shoulder, and uses his other hand to rub at your throbbing clit.

“Fuck, Harry.” You grit your teeth.

“Good?”

“Mhm.” You whimper.

“Good.” He kisses your knee and continues on with what he’s doing.

He does something that surprises you when he lets your leg go back on the bed. His fingers pump in and out of you slower, now starting to curl up, but he wells up some spit and lets it drip from his mouth and down to your clit. Your mouth falls open and your cheeks heat up. He flashes you a smirk before bringing his mouth down to your clit. He sucks harshly on you and you have to bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning out too loudly.

Harry moves his face from side to side, and then looks up at you as he keeps his mouth on you while letting more of his spit pour over you. One of your hands flies to his hair for you to tug on and his eyes flutter closed. His tongue laps around your clit as his fingers continue to work magic inside you.

“H-Harry.” You moan in a whisper. You were getting closer, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on for, not that you really needed to, but everything just felt so good you wanted it to last.

He makes the ‘come here’ motion inside you as fast as he possibly can, the tips of his fingers no doubt pruny at that this point from how drenched you are. You bite your bottom lip so harshly you think you’ve broken the skin. Your vision goes hazy and your back arches off the bed. You hear a ringing in your ears from the all the rushing blood. He gives you a moment to compose yourself before licking you clean. Your body jolts up from the sensitivity.

“God.” You breathe as your vision becomes clear again. “You’re, like, too good at that.”

“Thanks.” He chuckles as he straddles your hips.

“How come you like eating out so much?”

“Almost six months together and you’re just asking that now?”

“I’m suddenly very curious.”

“You��re stalling cause you’re sensitive.”

“Not true.” You scoff.

“Alright, well, I just like it.” He shrugs. “Nothing more to it than that. I like making other people feel good, it helps make me feel good. I’m always throbbing by the time I’m done, you know that.”

“Sorta seems like you have a praise kink.” You smirk. “It makes sense, you like hearing your own name, you get off making someone else feel good. Should I moan more about how good it feels, would you like that, Harry?” You bat your lashes at him.

“I’m getting the condom.” He says as he gets off you, disregarding your question. He slides his boxers down his legs. “Are you gonna be able to keep quiet?”

“I’d love to record us just once so you could hear how much fucking louder you are than me.”

“Don’t even fucking tempt me, you know I know how to set up a proper shot. Could have a professional looking porno on our hands.” He smiles coyly as he slides the condom onto his length.

“Lucky for you I have zero desire to watch myself get fucked.”

“Too bad, you’re so beautiful when you’re getting pumped silly.” He lips ghost over yours as he slowly slides inside you and you gasp into his mouth. “God, you always take it so well.” He smears his lips along yours and takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Want it from behind, need to feel you deeper.”

“I’ll do you one better.”

He pulls out and pulls your body so you’re bent over the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows and he slides back in. You could really feel yourself stretching to fit him. He was nice and snug, and it just felt so right. He grips the back of your neck with one hand and keeps the other on your hip as he gives you long, deep strokes.

“Oh my fucking god.” You groan and clutch at the comforter.

“Better?”

“So much better, fuck, Harry.”

He starts ramming into you, almost making the bed move on the floor. You had to shove your face into the mattress to stifle your moans. He takes his hand off your hip, still using his other one to grip the back of your neck, and sucks his thumb into his mouth for a moment. Then he takes it to rub on your other hole, something he’s done plenty of times before. You were panting into the blankets, and then you come up for air when you feel his tip brush your g-spot. You press your cheek to the bed so you can breathe and moan out.

“Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please.”

Harry grunts over and over, biting into his bottom lip, making sure to keep pleasing you. He grits his teeth because he’d be mortified if Andy heard anything. He was thankful that the rooms weren’t right next to each other at least. To make sure you stay quite though he yanks you back to him, still driving in deep, his hand moving to rub your clit, and his other hand moving to open your mouth. You take the signal, and start sucking on two of his fingers. You end up biting down on him when you feel your release come, and he bites into your shoulder to keep himself from screaming. He plants kisses over your shoulders as you both calm down. You release his fingers and he pulls out slowly. You turn around to face him and you kiss him.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” Another kiss. “Never gonna let you go.” You throw your arms around his neck and his eyes widen. No one ever said that to him before.

“I love you too, baby.” He holds you close to him for a few moments, and then eventually you both get cleaned up. He couldn’t stand there with a filled condom forever, after all.

Six months, six entire months. Harry hadn’t had a relationship that lasted this long in a long time, which was pretty sad considering he was almost thirty-three. He holds you a little closer tonight.

A couple of weeks went by, and you had gotten into a routine of staying over Harry’s place a couple of nights a week, and when Andy stayed at Paige’s, he’d come to your place, just to keep things equal. Hanukkah was just around the corner, and you had plans to go see your family, but Harry would be in London by then, which was no problem, so you both decide it’ll be fun to exchange gifts on a snowy Sunday.

“I’m so glad finals week is this week.” You say as you peel the potatoes for the latkes.

“Same here.” He says as he gets his food processor out. “But…the closer the semester is to ending, the closer I get to leaving…”

“You don’t sound very excited.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, I am…I’ll just miss you.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you too.” You give him a peck on the cheek. “Maybe we can FaceTime and you can introduce me to your family.” You smile.

“I’d like that.”

“Y/N…?” Andy says, coming up to you both with something behind his back. “I was hanging up mine and Dad’s stockings, and…well, I made one for you.” He shows it to you and you gasp.

It was a blue stocking with silver glitter, and your name was written on it in glitter as well.

“Oh, Andy…this is so sweet.” You lean down to give him a hug. “Thank you so much, I’d be honored if you hung it with the others.”

“Okay!” He exclaims before going back into the living room.

“Did you know he was making me one?”

“I did.” Harry nods with a smile. “Had me take him to the craft store the other day after school.”

You pout and look back over towards the living room, then back to Harry.

“You’re raising a very good boy.”

Harry smiles and gets the food processor going to shred the potatoes and onions. You use a cheese cloth to get all of the water out, and then you mix the rest of the ingredients in, and Harry gets some oil going in the pan.

“Andy! Wanna help me form the pancakes?” You holler for him and he comes into the kitchen very excited.

“Yeah!” He washes his hands and helps you make the pancakes while Harry minds them in the pan.

It was a lot of fun for the three of you to cook together. Harry also baked sugar cookies. It wasn’t the healthiest meal, but that’s what the holidays were all about.

“That was so good, I’m stuffed.” Andy says. “I like it with the applesauce the best. I’ve noticed a lot of Jewish food is either fried or sweet.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh. “Are you excited to go to London soon?”

“Yeah! I love getting to see everyone. Grammy always gets me the best stuff.”

“Andy…we don’t go see Grammy because she buys you things.”

“I know that.” Andy mumbles. “But it does make it more fun.”

“What else do you like about going?” You ask.

“I get to see my cousins and my Auntie Gem.” He says as he starts to help clean up the plates.

“Alright, are we ready to decorate the tree?” Harry asks.

“Yeah!” Andy says and goes into the living room.

“Do you feel comfortable with that, Y/N?”

“Of course! Sounds like fun.” You smile.

Andy shows you his favorite ornaments, and explains why. He and Harry used to collect them, it was something just for them when he’d come to visit. You giggle when Harry lifts Andy up to put the star on top. You’re also extremely impressed because it couldn’t be easy to lift up an eleven-year-old.

“Since I won’t see you both for Christmas, I thought it could be fun to do this now.” You say as you grab your gifts for Andy. You and Harry already talked about doing this, but he pretends to be just as surprised. You all sit on the floor and you slide Andy his gifts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Y/N.”

“Oh, sure I did. How else would I score brownie points with your dad?” You wink at him and it makes him laugh.

He opens up one box that has a couple of t-shirts in it. One of them has LIFE IS UNFAIR on it with a picture of a roller skate under it. His eyes widen and he beams at you. The other one has CAN YOU REPEAT THE QUESTION? on it, and he smiles just as big.

“I know how much you like that show…so-“

“I love them!” He nearly tackles you with a hug, and you wrap your arms around him. “Thank you!”

“You’re more than welcome.”

“Where did you even find these?” Harry asks.

“I had them made on Etsy.” You shrug. “Here open this one.”

Andy rips the wrapping paper off, and gasps.

“Finally, I’ve been begging Dad for this game.” It was What Do You Meme. “Thanks, Y/N, I’ll be able to play this with my cousins.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile.

“I have something for you too, let me go get it!” He gets up and races to his room. Andy comes back with a small box that he clearly wrapped for himself. “Happy Hanukkah, Y/N.” He smiles and hands it to you.

“Thank you, Andy.” You tare the wrapping paper open, and then open the box. “Oh, wow.”

Andy had made a popsicle stick jewelry box, but he had spray painted it matte black and put some felt on the bottom of it. It was gorgeous, and you couldn’t wait to use it.

“Andy…this is amazing, thank you so much. I can’t wait to put all my rings and stuff in this.”

“Really? You’ll use it?”

“Of course I will! It’s just what I’ve been needing.”

“Cool.” He smiles and looks at Harry. “Well…I, uh, have some homework I need to go do, so…I’ll just be doing that.”

“Did you help him at all with this?” You ask as you move to sit on the couch with Harry.

“Nope, well, I set him up in the garage, but he did it all himself.”

“He’s very talented.” You look the box over. “Can’t even see where he used the hot glue.”

“I…could I give you my gift now? I don’t wanna wait until after New Year’s…”

“Sure! I have yours with me too!” You get up quickly and rummage through your bag for his gift and he grabs your from under the tree.

“Are you…upset at all that I won’t be here for the New Year?”

“Harry, I know it’s not ideal to be apart for it, but next year I’m sure we’ll be together to kiss when the ball drops.”

His cheeks heat up, and he leans in to kiss you.

“That sounds nice.” He nods. “I just felt bad…it was too soon to ask you to come with me, and-“

“Honestly…I probably wouldn’t have gone even if you did ask. And it’s not because I wouldn’t have wanted to, I just really need this time to get some work done.”

“Okay.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Thanks.” You smile. “Okay, open.” You plop your gift into his lap and he opens it with a smirk.

“Sunglasses?”

“I saw you looking at them at the Ray-Bans store…do you like them?”

“I love them! They’re great, how do they look?” He puts them on and makes a Zoolander face, making you burst out laughing.

“They’re perfect.”

“Thank you.” He takes them off and puts them into the case, and then kisses your cheek. “Here…I wasn’t sure what to get you…so I hope you like it.”

You side eye him for a moment, and then open up his gift. After clearing the wrapping paper you see it’s a flat, black velvet box.

“Harry…if you spent-“

“I know these sunglasses weren’t cheap, so I don’t wanna hear it, just open it, please.” You slowly open the box and your eyes widen. It was a beautiful necklace. The chain was silver, and the slide was a palm tree that had diamonds all over it. “You talk about how much you love the beach…so I thought you’d like the palm tree, but if you don’t we could go to the store and pick out a different one.” He watches you to try to read you a little, but you were speechless.

“I don’t want to return it…I…I love it Harry.” You look at it. “Would you put it on for me?”

“Yeah!”

You turn around and move your hair while he clasps the chain for you. You turn back around to show him. Usually it was him who looked like a wide eyed puppy, but this time it was you. No one had ever gotten you something like this before.

“It looks wonderful on you.” He tucks some hair behind your ear.

Normally you wouldn’t be so aggressive out in the living room with Andy home, but he did say he’d be in his room doing homework. You practically lunge towards Harry, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips on his. His hands cup your jaw as he sucks on your bottom lip.

“I’m so glad you like it.” He breathes as he presses his forehead to yours.

“M’never taking it off, and whenever someone asks where I got it I can say my amazing boyfriend got it for me, and I don’t care how cheesy that sounds.” You smile and kiss him again.

“It’s not cheesy at all, praise me all you want.”

“Don’t be silly.” You nudge him with a giggle. “Thank you, seriously, this was so sweet of you.”

“Sorry you won’t be able to use the jewelry box for it.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I have plenty of other things I can put in there.”

“Are you two done being gross?!” Andy shouts from down the hall.

“Yes!” Harry shouts back and starts cleaning up all the wrapping paper.

“Good.” Andy says, plopping down on the couch next to you. “So you like it?”

“Very much, your dad’s got quite the eye.”

Harry comes over with a mug of hot chocolate for everyone. He had been making it in the crock pot all day.

“So…” Andy takes a sip of his warm drink as Harry sits on his other side. “You know how last year I just stayed with Mum while you were still in London?”

“Yes.”

“It was sort of…annoying because I had to get up even earlier for school, and Mum is extra busy because of Gram, and I’d feel bad making her drive me for two weeks.��

“What exactly are you asking me? You can’t take two weeks off from school to stay in London, Andy…as much as I’d like you there.”

“No, I know that. Um…” He looks up at you for a moment and then back to Harry. “What if I stayed here with Y/N?”

“Andy…” Harry looks at you awkwardly. This should really be a private conversation, and Paige should really be involved. “Um, listen, your mum really enjoys having the extra time with you.”

“I know, but two whole weeks of all that back and forth?”

“If she’s fine with it, you could do like two long weekends with your mum, and I could stay here the rest of the time. It would sort of be like I was house sitting, Har.” You chime in.

“You’d do that?” Harry asks, almost shocked.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “If…Paige says it’s okay.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow to see how she feels about it. A couple of long weekends could be a good compromise.” He sips his own drink. “You’d really be okay with pick up and drop off?”

“It’s not like it would be out of the way, the school’s down the road.”

“I hope Mum says yes, I hated getting up early last time, and she doesn’t wake me up like you do.” Andy says to Harry.

“How does Dad wake you up?” You were very intrigued.

“I just go into his room and nudge him awake. Most mornings I have to rip the blanket away.” Harry chuckles. “How does Mum do it?”

“She yells down the hall that’s it time to get up and if I don’t she comes in and tickles me.”

“Hm, maybe I should try that.” Harry ponders.

“No!”

You and Harry laugh at Andy. You couldn’t believe he felt so comfortable with you that he wanted to be able to just stay at the house with you while Harry was gone. It meant a lot to you. You knew Harry couldn’t cut his trip short. The journal that publishes his works is in London, and he had a big meeting about his latest manuscript scheduled.

“So…you’d really stay here with Andy while I’m gone?” Harry asks you as you both get ready for bed.

“Yeah, as long as you feel comfortable with it.”

“I do.” He nods. “It means a lot to me that you’re always so willing to jump in and help.”

“Harry…” You slide into bed next to him. “You know...I care a lot about Andy. I love you, and he’s your son, and well…I love him too, simple as that.”

“This was the perfect day.” He beams at you.

“Yeah, it was.”

“He…he wants to do what?!” Paige was frantically running around her home while on the phone with Harry.

“I couldn’t believe it when he brought it up, but it does make sense…” Harry was putting some fresh polish on his nails while in his office. “He’d still be with you for a good chunk of time.”

“True…and it would save me from having to make all those extra trips.” She bites at one of her nails.

“Paige, please, that’s a nasty habit.” Her mother grimaces as she makes herself a cup of coffee.

“So…things are going well with your mother.” Harry says facetiously.

“Oh yeah, it’s all peaches and cream over here.” She rolls her eyes and goes down the hall to the office for some privacy. “Okay, so he’ll do two Friday to Mondays with me, and then spend the rest of the time with Y/N?”

“That’s the plan he’s hoping for, I believe. Are you okay with that?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I trust her with him. She’s been spending the night more with us, everyone seems comfortable.”

“Okay, well, if you trust her then so do I. Oh! She and I could finally have a little lunch date or something. You’ll need to give me her number so I can coordinate pick up and drop off.”

“I will, and yeah I think it’ll be the perfect excuse to get to know each other better.”

“Perfect, so I’m still set to get him at the airport on the first, yeah?”

“Yup, all that’s staying the same.” He pauses for a moment. “Are you doing okay? Is there anything you need?”

“I’m…better. Noah’s been a great distraction for my mom when I need a break. Allie and her hubby will be here for Christmas like always so that’ll be good, and she’s just about sold my mom’s condo, the paperwork’s almost done.”

“That’s great.”

“Thank you for asking though, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, just wanted to make sure.”

Harry and Andy were taking the Concord Coach bus to the airport, but you offered to drive them down to Logan since you’d be staying at your brother’s for the week. Andy thought you were a cool driver, way better than his dad and he let you know it right away. You drive them to the gate and get out to say goodbye.

“Safe travels.” You smile and give Andy a hug.

“Thanks again for driving us.” Harry says.

“Of course, I was headed here anyways.”

“Right.”

“Jesus, just kiss already, I’ll turn around.” Andy rolls his eyes and fiddles with his new friendship bracelet, making sure it was intact. Yes, Brandon and Andy made friendship bracelets for each other for Christmas, and Andy got the butterflies.

Harry glares at him for a moment, but you bring his attention to yourself.

“I love you, have fun.” You say to him as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you too, I’ll let you know when we get there.” He puts his hands on your hips and kisses you. You didn’t want him to let you go, but you knew he had to.

“Dad, the police are gonna yell at us, come on!”

“Okay!” Harry whips his head to look at Andy. “He and Paige both have your number, so that should be all set. If you need anything from me, don’t hesitate to call, I don’t care what time it is.”

“It’ll all be fine, Harry.” You smile and lean up to kiss him again. “Go on.”

He nods and takes Andy’s hand to go into the airport. You get back in your car and drive off. You’d miss Harry like crazy, but you were excited to spend some time with your family and spend New Year’s with your friends like always. Consistency put you at ease. You were also looking forward to getting some work done without any major distractions. When you get to your brother’s place, the wine comes out immediately.

“Okay, so this is like…the are you a good mom test.” Julian says. “I mean, you’ll be alone with his kid for two weeks.”

“It’s not a full two weeks…and I’ve been home alone with Andy before.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be responsible for keeping him alive for longer than just a few hours.” Phil says. “Man, look at that necklace, it’s so beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You blush. “It was so sweet of him. Taking care of Andy is gonna be a piece of cake, he’s like my little buddy now. I’m more nervous for the one on one I’m going to have his mother.” You grimace. “We’re gonna have brunch or something.”

“She just wants to get to know you better, Y/N. Is that so bad?” Phil asks.

“No! It’s not bad at all, and I know I’m lucky that Harry’s ex isn’t some crazy bitch, she’s really nice, it’s just awkward. I’m fucking the guy she used to fuck…I’m in love with the guy that used to be in love with her.” You take a sip of your drink. “I know why she wants to meet…things are serious between Harry and I, and she probably just wants to make sure a psycho isn’t around her son.” You laugh.

“Speaking of seriousness with Harry…” Julian says. “You’ve been together, like, six months now right?”

“Mhm.” You smile and bite your bottom lip. “It’s going really well.”

“Have you two talked about where you see it going, though?” Phil asks. “I know it’s an awkward conversation to have, but I certainly would like to know what his intentions with you are.”

“I see it lasting, and I think he does too…”

“But have you talked about?” Julian asks.

“No, it’s sort of too soon, don’t you think?”

“No.” They say at the same time.

“Not when he’s almost thirty-three and you’re twenty-seven, Y/N. You’re not exactly kids.” Phil says. “I don’t want him wasting your time.”

“He’s not! We just haven’t talked about all that, I’m sure we will. We exchanged keys, that was a big deal. I’m sure we’ll have the conversation soon, maybe when he gets back.” You shrug. “The department’s getting together to take him out for his birthday, I made reservations at our favorite Thai place and everything.”

“That’ll be fun.” Phil says. “Do that, and then ask what the fuck is up.”

“Maybe not in those words exactly.” Julian chuckles. “But…you should know where you two stand.”

“I bet you we’ll talk about it once he gets a full report from Andy.” You smirk. “He’s bound to rave about me, or at least I hope he will. Harry hasn’t had a relationship in a long time, especially not one where his son has liked his girlfriend so much. I’ve also told him I don’t plan to go anywhere after I get my PhD…so we’ve had little snippets. You two worry about me too much. If I thought Harry was some fuck boy I wouldn’t be with him.”

“We’re just looking out for you, that’s all.” Phil says in defense. “We like Harry a lot, he was great to hang out with. I think you’ve found someone great, and I’m not trying to rush you into something, but I can’t help but worry about you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” You smile at them.

Later that night as you get into bed, you think over what your brother and Julian said. You did need to have a conversation with Harry. You loved him so much, but you needed to make sure you both wanted the same things.

Harry: landed, exhausted, but we’re here. You’re either in bed or out having drinks, but either way, I love you and sweet dreams

Your eyes light up when you see the message from your man.

You: had drinks, and now I’m in bed lol glad you got there safely, get some sleep baby, I love you too

#harry styles #office neighbors #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 2 years

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Prolonged Hiatus | Account Update

Hiya,

Due to circumstances concerning work and uni, I’ll be prolonging my hiatus until early/mid July. But to give you an idea of what’s going on, let me explain a wee bit.

Tomorrow, hopefully, my supervisor will contact me with my thesis grade so I’m keeping my fingers crossed it’s a passing one. After four years and enough stress to turn my hair grey (not a joke), I think it’s about time I graduate.

Or miserably fail. You know… that’s also a possibility.

(Which won’t be without consequences for my supervisor, just saying)

But, even after the academic stress has been taken away, there’s still my current job. I’ve been working overtime, functioning as a makeshift HR manager, and helping my colleague/manager however and with whatever I can. Eight out of fourteen (myself and the colleague/manager included) are leaving, either quitting on their own or not prolonging their contracts. Let’s just say that our contracts are basically slave ones, management is fucking terrible, and we’re all way underpaid. All of us are on the edge of burnout or already with one foot in its grave.

So, you know, I haven’t been motivated to write fiction after having had to rewrite my thesis three times, resulting in essentially writing 18K words in April. Or do anything other than play The Sims 4 and (if lucky enough) to read a bit, to be honest.

Currently, I’m aiming to publish an OC profile alongside two stories (which may or may not have to do with Tom Hardy) next month since I’ll be going on a wee trip to London. Yes, London… the city I was stranded in three months ago. I still love the place, though.

(But it’s not as grand as Galway!)

So, that’s what’s been going on. For now, I’m glad I have Saturday off to go to therapy.

Tattoo therapy, that is, because it’s time to colour the snake on my thigh.

Anyways, good luck and see you soon.

#account update #update

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twopoppies · 4 years

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hiiii i love your fic recs and trust your choices and was wondering if you have any recs for like...daddy kink/someone being praised and told they're good and being really taken care of?? sorry if this is oddly specific or not specific enough

Hi darling. I definitely do. I like that dynamic a lot, so I have a bunch to choose from. There are only a few that are tagged as also having praise kink in them, so I’ll make a separate fic rec list for that. Hopefully some of these are new to you:

Allegro/Adagio by coffinofachimera (E, 9K) everything I’ve read from this author has been so beautifully written, and this is no exception. Yes, it’s filthy, but they give such depth to the characters’ reasons for the way they “play”. And this is one of the rare fics that really take us through the build up to the scene, straight through to aftercare. I really loved this one.

Hike Up Your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) by Anonymous (E, 18K) make sure you read the tags on this one because it’s not exactly “romance” and Louis is definitely super manipulative. But if you like the idea of secretary Harry in lingerie, CEO Louis, copious amounts of dirty talk, some power imbalance, and exhibitionism… this could be for you. Oh, and of course there’s some daddy kink involved as well.

But When We Kiss by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 8K) At last this author has graced us with another fic and it’s a filthy, fantastic Sugar Baby Harry fic. Hallelujah! But seriously, their writing is so good, the dynamics are so hot, and Harry is just the perfect kind of desperate in this one. Go read it!

Champagne by fanshae / @blueylouie (E, 3K) Super smutty, super sexy. A little but of everything in under 3K. Whew! 🥵

precious little thing by mercutionnotromeo (E, 21K) I’ve read this one so many times…it’s got it all. This time the phone sex operator is Louis, and subby Harry is just beginning to realize his daddy kink.

gathered on wings by Brooklyn_Babylon / @twopoppies (E, 33K) This one is mine, so here’s the summary:

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist. What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way. Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for. Somehow he still manages to turn Harry’s world upside down.

You’ll Breathe Me In (You Won’t Release) by LoadedGunn (E, 95K) Also known as The Driving Instructor fic. This has some of the best pacing I’ve read in a fic, some really well written BDSM smut, and characters I just really enjoy. I know it’s not for everyone. Read the tags.

Take Our Bodies Higher by louislittlehiccups (E, 21K) Louis finally find someone who shares his kinks. It happens to be phone sex operator Harry. So much dirty talk. So much desperation. So, so good.

ain’t had none like you in a while (E, 12K) Also known as the time travel daddy fic and man, it covers a lot of ground. Two for one desperate Harrys! It’s not easy writing a fic that is mostly smut and involves more than two people but still keeps it interesting and actually makes you feel for the characters. But this one definitely does, as far as I’m concerned (yes, I like some feelings with my porn).

let’s talk about making love by istajmaal (E, 25K) Oh, phone sex operator fics, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. This one is so hot.

Switch Out The Batteries by istajmaal, LoadedGunn (#, 88K) Just....holy shit So, one of the things I really love about this fic is that because it’s dual POV, you get this story told from both the Dom POV and the Sub POV which makes it super fun and interesting. These authors always write truly amazing smut and this is no exception. I actually love the first part of this series, but it’s not necessary to read it first (and I didn’t include it because there’s no daddy kink in it, but it’s so good).

like poison coursing through me by orphan_account (E, 4K) Kink exploration and dirty talk. Two of my favorite things! (this is not a Sound of Music reference).

show me devotion by mercutionotromeo (E, 1.4K) This is one of my favorite authors when it comes to smutty fic, and this one is just sexy and gentle with lots of banter. I loved the way they contrasted their teen years with current behavior. So well done.

smile in slow motion by istajmaal (E, 24K) One of my favorite Daddy kink authors, this one is sweet and funny while also being super sexy. Plus it’s got great Zouis friendship.

Take Our Bodies Higher by @littlelouishiccups (E, 21K) Louis finally find someone who shares his kinks. It happens to be phone sex operator Harry. So much dirty talk. So much desperation. So, so good.

violence of my own touch by 25postcards (14hrflight) / @got2ghost (E, 5K) I just found this fic today, actually, and was so moved by the way this author portrayed both Harry and Louis — the exhaustion, the confusion, the sadness, but also the deep love and need for each other. Alpha/Alpha.

Vinyl and Lace by objectlesson (E, 8K) Similar theme to the one above, but fleshed out more. Always excellent writing and pacing. Their smut is always terrific. Link is to a download.

she feels so good by zedi / @that-idiot-overthere (E, 4K) This super sexy, fun fic gives you a little bit of everything from daddy kink to feminization. Harry is genderfluid.

Day 27: My Heart Belongs to Daddy by 100percentsassy (E, 8K) This fic is from the 30-Day Smut Challenge and it’s one of my favorites from that collection. So much smutty goodness wrapped up in an established relationship fic.

if they find out, will it all go wrong? by blankiehxrry (E, 3K) This little canon fic is another one that packs a lot in. Gender identity exploration, daddy kink, feminization... all the good stuff

give me forever for a while by mercutionotromeo (E, 5K) This one involves a collar, but in a slightly different way – this time it’s kitten play. I always love the way this author writes their smut and this one is full of dirty talk and soft dom Louis using Harry.

skip a beat and move with my body by crybaby (E, 6K) Harry, Louis, Zayn. So, Harry and Louis are roommates. Harry kinda sorta pays his rent by sleeping with Louis. And anyone else he wants to share Harry with. It’s filthy and I kind of love it.

Run and I'll Give Chase by orphan_account (E, 25K) Yes, I’m recommending you a vampire fic complete with mind-reading. I really liked the characterizations in this one; the way Harry wants Louis, but is afraid to want him, and then finally gives in? So good!

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo (E, 11K) I love the way this author captures the overwhelm of teenage lust and pining in this one. And at the same time, there’s something so gentle about the way the two of them are with each other.

daddy daddy cool by sky_reid (E, 7K) This author always writes super smutty smut and this one is no exception. If daddy kink isn’t your thing, skip this one. But if it is…man it’s good.

a million roses (bathed in rock n' roll) by deLILAh (E, 30K) Honestly this is such a satisfying read. I love how the author jumps through time, highlighting moments and I love how their relationship grows and matures.

Fertile Ground by Blake (E, 4K) This author explores gender and body acceptance in a way I haven’t seen done much in this fandom, and their writing is so moving. Like, every line packs a punch. This one, in particular, is such a moving portrait of Harry’s struggles with how others see him and how he sees himself, and Louis’ support as they figure it out together.

a love reaction by tilthesundies (E, 10K) This is one of the few Daddy Harry fics I really like––their characterizations work really well in this one. friends to lovers, jealous Harry... some good shit.

we've people to see (let's put 'em on hold) by orphan_account (E, 7K) I mean... riding the subway and you meet someone who turns out to be your sexual soulmate? Perfectly believable. This one is hot and funny at the same time.

jump in the deep end by istajmaal (E, 5K) I just love their dynamic in this one and this author (as I’ve said above) writes some of my favorite smut.

#I probably have a handful of others #but this has gotten so long!#daddy kink fics #larry fic rec #my fic rec #Anonymous

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calumsash · 3 years

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ok so i posted a cashton fic rec a couple of months ago and since then i have expanded my horizons and read more than just these two. this fandom truly has the best writers and i can’t thank you enough for the joy and comfort your fics bring me and many more im sure. most of these are cashton and cake since they are personally my favourite pairings to read, i still have many more on my to-read list so hopefully i make another one of these with more fics! so here we go in no particular order with the fics i got around to reading in these couple of months:

calum hood/ashton irwin

Empty Gut by @daydadahlias - Cowboys and horses and long, lonely nights in the wilderness. (11k)

here’s the thing, i have been hearing about jess’ fics from a friend of mine before i came across their blog, got many screenshots of their lashton fics (which the moment i start reading more lashton they’ll be first in line) and from what i saw i was in love with the writing. so when i saw you writing a brokeback mountain AU for cashton, none the less, you got me. it was so heartbreaking and i loved the way you wrote all of ashton’s inner monologues. i knew how the movie ends and i still cried at the ending for calum.

Fall Into Me by @ashtcnirwin - In which Ashton acquires a couple of piercings and it comes with a slight change in his way of being, and it throws Calum for a loop. (16k)

holy shit where do i start, it’s always refreshing to read sub!ash since usually it’s the opposite. i really loved the different dynamics you put into these fics between all the guys. one second i was laughing my ass off and another second it got way too hot in the room while reading this, which in my opinion is a great combo. also, im very grateful you graced us with a part two for this series cause when i didn’t think it could get better it did.

In Your Sweet December Haze by @fourdrunksluts - It’s been years since Ashton’s last seen his best friend's dorky little brother, Calum, but when their families decide to get together for their first shared Christmas since they were all kids, it’s more than just the holiday spirit that pulls Ashton in. (20k)

this fic has just the right amount of angst and comfort, i could literally picture this as a film. i loved the back and forth in the timeline and that way you slowly realize the chain of events that let them to the present. also, you made me cry over a furby and i can’t get over that.

i want you (bless my soul) by @michaelownsmyheart - In which Ashton moves in with a guy named Michael, Michael is in love with Luke and annoyed at Calum, and the guy with shaved blue hair from the elevator is too hot for Ashton to know what to do about it. (22k)

oh boy this is a good one, another sub!ash and im really loving this. the cashton here was excellent, but what was also excellent is the friendship between michael and ashton - their dynamic was so funny and sweet and they’re the perfect roommates.

calum hood/luke hemmings

He Did Ballet by @kaleidoscopeminds - Luke's life is perfectly on track. He is about to get everything he's ever wanted, to become a Principal dancer for the Royal Ballet. He's focused, determined and nothing will get in his way. Then he meets Calum, a smooth-tongued barman with dangerous eyes, and suddenly not everything's so simple. (37k)

the motherfuckin ballet fic everybody! the first cake fic i read and what got me into this mess. i really loved the buildup in the relationship and the combination of fluff and angst (chapter 7 im looking at you) and ballet au just has my heart ok?

more than just a neon weekend by @clumsyclifford - Calum shifts into a sitting position. The sheets fall further down his body and Luke looks down at his hands so he won’t stare. He’s still mostly naked, too, and he can feel Calum watching him, and his cheeks burn. Calum needs to leave. Calum needs to take his clothes and go and they need to never tell anyone about this and never talk about it again, because this could destroy the band if it turns into — if anything. (8k)

listen, im a sucker for angst and miscommunication and this got it. the whole fic got me hurting for both luke and, just wanting for them to be ok. “Means nothing to me if it’s nothing to you” you just had to hurt me huh. i was just waiting for them to talk properly and for them end each others pain.

the flatmate arrangement by @kaleidoscopeminds - Hi Calum/Poor Struggling Paralegal, So I’ll be upfront with you. It’s a one-bed flat. I also live here. HOWEVER before you delete this and think I’m a freak, I work nights so I wouldn’t be here anytime you would be. You can have the flat exclusively from 6 pm to 8 am, Saturday night and all day Sunday. Understand this sounds like a bit of a crazy arrangement but I could do with the cash, let me know what you think? Luke Hemmings (Poor Struggling Children’s Nurse). (20k)

this au is so cute, you really got me wishing to have a roommate that i will never see. i love how michael and ashton both were like “this is crazy, why do you wanna die?” and luke and calum are like “it’s fine, don’t be dramatic”. luke backing when he’s stressed? leaving calum baked goods? them leaving notes to each other? this is so sweet i love this fic.

michael clifford/ashton irwin

Gotta Be Cruel to be Kind by @fourdrunksluts - The fandom required 10 Things I Hate About You fic. (26k)

you are right. every fandom needs a 10 things i hate about you fic! and michael and ashton as patrick and kat was just perfect. side cake was also adorable. it got all the great parts of the movie, but you changed it in a way that made the story so much better.

luke hemmings/ashton irwin

Off-Screen by @allsassnoclass - Now that classes are being taught from home due to the pandemic, students are getting a glimpse into Professor Irwin's home life, especially when his mysterious husband keeps interrupting class. (3k)

i loved that this one was from an outsider’s perspective. it gave me the feeling like i was one of the students in ashton’s class haha. luke being a clingy husband is also adorable. just pure fluff.

OT4

Let Go Of Any Hesitation by @fourdrunksluts - When Ashton's frustration is a creative block, it becomes the entire band's problem, and they each have their own idea of how to get him out of his head. (18k)

this one got it all, i love reading about ashton getting all the attention and getting taken care of. truly is a sucker for ashton and his boys. ashton is so stubborn here, but the moment he lets go it’s so good.

once again, thank you for writing these, you all are incredible and deserve all the love ♥

#yay another one! love all of you!!#i have so many more fics to read i just need to find the time!! need more hours in the day #5sos #5sos fic #this is so long im so sorry for my ramblings i had to put it under the read more #go check these out if you haven't already and give the authors love!!!!

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wonjaekook · 4 years

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Red Ocean, Black Sky

A/N: Is that enough warnings to turn people away who don’t want to read something like this? Hopefully (lol). I haven’t posted a fic for almost two months now, so hopefully this will make up for the drought. I guess you could call this a labor of love because I reaaaally didn’t intend to make it this long. If you have any feedback or feel like I should add a warning or anything like that, my ask box is open! Anyways, enough of that - enjoy :)

21 Tropes: 9. Organized Crime/Gang/Mafia-esque AU + azure w/Yuta

Description: One incident changes your life, pulling you onto a path of blood and death that you don’t understand. You’re afraid of what Yuta has brought you into and, maybe, with time, you’ll stop being afraid for long enough to ask the right questions.

Word Count: 18k Genre: angst, thriller (is that what you call it? adventure?) smut (barely, check the warnings), fluff (kind of? if you really squint?)

Warnings: violence (gets pretty graphic), blood, death/murder, lots of cursing, alcohol, somewhat sexual/suggestive language, relatively undetailed smut that you can skip (it’s obvious enough when it’s about to come up and starts with the line “The danger of him...” and the clean paragraphs start again with “You wait for the regret...” if you don’t want to read it; it’s only about two paragraphs long)

“Did you hear about what happened to that lady?”

“The one who sings at Kim’s Bar? Yeah, it’s awful.”

You try to make a point of not really listening to your coworkers’ gossipings. What they talk about is never good news. The first girl, Haneul, loves to run her mouth nearly as much as the second girl, Jooyeon, does. You’d think they would have learned better by now, with what all of you do, but they still speak much too freely for your taste.

“Heard they weren’t even after her. Was her brother they were after, but she was just in the way,” Haneul continues.

“Do you know whose side they were on?”

Sometimes it’s hard to block out the chitter and chatter.

“My ma said they went after ‘em because they were affiliated with the Neos.”

“Shit, best not be-”

“Shh!” Jinah, one of your more senior coworkers hisses at the other girls to be quiet when the front door swings open with an inappropriately cheerful chime, revealing three men. You keep your eyes down, not daring to look at their faces. From what you can see of their feet, the one in the middle steps forward and appears to represent the group. You can hear the fake smile in Jinah’s voice as she greets him. “Hello, sir. How can we help you?”

“I’m here to make use of your services. My shoulders have been hurting like hell.” You nearly let yourself relax when you hear what he’s here for, but immediately tense up again when he continues. “Keep this on the downlow.”

Jinah freezes before regaining her composure. “Sir, we don’t offer… those kinds of services until later in the evening. If you wish to partake, we-”

“I’m not here for that. Are you listening to what I’m saying? I’m here for exactly what I asked for.” The impatience in his voice has you clasping your hands together tightly to stop them from shaking. You think you would be used to these kinds of men by now, but you aren’t. Each new person that steps through the front door is a new danger. You can only hope-

“Ah, I understand. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, sir; we’ll get you taken care of right away.” She pauses, turning to you. “Y/N, prepare a room for this gentleman.”

You can only hope you don’t get chosen. But, here you are. Somewhat stiffly, you turn around, stepping out of the reception area and towards an unoccupied room.

“Y/N is one of our best masseuses, sir. She’ll have that pain gone in no time at all. While we’re waiting, we can discuss payment...” You hear Jinah explain to him as you walk away, her voice drafting away as you close the door behind you. You almost wish you’d looked at his face to get a judge on his character, but you also know that you’ve met plenty of deceptive faces before. It’s better that you don’t see him. People can ask less questions that way.

Once you do all of your preparatory work, setting out oils and water, anything else you might need, you steel your nerves, twist the handle of the door open, and step out of the room. You stand in the entryway between the reception area and the back hallway, head bowed. “Everything is ready, sir. Please follow me.”

All you see are the tips of his surprisingly well taken care of shoes, a polished black, before you turn around, hearing his footsteps behind you as you take him to the room. Once the door to the room closes, he makes quick work of taking his upper layers off, handing you his jacket and button down shirt when you stretch out your hands for them. You’re about to instruct him to lie down, but he beats you to it. “I’d prefer to stay sitting upright. I’m sure you understand?”

The words are a threat but not quite a threat, so you simply respond with a quiet, “Yes, sir,” and fix the arrangement of the table. After he sits, his back to you, you finally look up farther than his feet. On his back, his skin illuminated by some of the dim light in the room, is a great work of art.

You pretty quickly recognize the work tattooed across his shoulders as a rendition of The Great Wave Off Kanagawa. Except, where there should have been azure tattooed into his back, there’s only red. An entire ocean, dyed red. You’re too afraid to ask what it means. You’re paid to keep your mouth shut, so you do.

But, you’ve heard about him. Of course, he doesn’t tell you who he is, but you know he’s a big name. Still, you try your best to keep steady enough, beginning your work on his shoulders and back. His skin is smooth and muscled under your touch and his sleek, collar-length black hair is tied up, away from his shoulders. Looking at him from behind, in the flickering ambient light of the room, you try to remind yourself that he’s just a man. A dangerous man, but a man nonetheless. He has skin and bone and muscle just like you. Skin and bone and muscle that have probably taken lives far more significant than your own.

“Your hands are shaking,” the man says, not even glancing over at you.

“My apologies,” you say quietly.

“Are you afraid?”

You don’t stop working, your hands moving over his shoulders, though the air between you seems to still for a moment. You try to stop your voice and hands from shaking, pressing a little harder on his muscles as a result. “No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You don’t respond. You don’t rush your work, either. You give him exactly what he paid for and, after he’s pulled his shirt and jacket back on, you finally have the courage to look at his face.

You nearly let the shock appear on your face when you find that he’s actually quite handsome. He tips you well, giving you a dangerous, knowing smile, and you think that’s the end of it. Of course, it isn’t.

The gun to your head and the knife pressed to your side seem a bit like overkill to you, but if you die like this, then you suppose it would be fun to have it be an interesting death.

“Tell us what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.” It’s the truth - you really don’t have any idea what this man is talking about, and the weapons pressed against you aren’t bringing any particular memories to mind. Your mind, overloaded with fear, is nearly blank.

“Lying whore, you think I won’t cut the truth out of you?” The man’s breath reeks of cigarettes and general garbage and you nearly gag as he spits his words into your face.

“I’m telling the truth.” You answer through gritted teeth.

“Bitch! Tell me what you know about the Neos now or I’ll start cutting! One,” he pressed the blade deeper, “two,” you can feel the metal begin to dig into your skin, “three-”

He doesn’t get to finish the threat. Gunshots ring through the alleyway as the man threatening you and his backup all go down quickly and easily. You feel the bullet wizz past your head, barely brushing your hair as it nails him in the head. Thankfully, a dead man’s reflexes aren’t good and the gun and blade in his hands fall to the ground with clinks. You know the other men drop with him, but you can barely focus with the adrenaline and pure fear pumping through your veins.

You soon join them, falling to your knees as your shaky legs give out under you. Your breathing is uneven and quick and you don’t look up until a shadow falls over you.

It’s the man from before. The one with the wave tattoo.

He tugs down the black mask covering his mouth. You see his lips move. You don’t comprehend what he tells you but, against everything reasonable, you take his hand when he offers it to you. A familiar face in all of the bodies piled around you. Your body almost moves on its own and you let the man wrap an arm around you, a warm, almost smoky scent surrounding you from his jacket and muting the sharp metallic tang in the air. The other men who came with him are inspecting the bodies, but you don’t want to look at the reality of what just happened. You almost died. That could be you on the ground, your blood soaking into the cracked pavement of the alley. Your heartbeat nearly drowns out what the men are saying, but you catch snippets.

“Blue Veins. Haven’t fucked with them in a while.”

You dully register hearing one of the other men who had come with him curse. “Fuck. This one is a Rusher.”

“Blues and Rushers working together? Not in-”

“We need to get out of here,” you feel the chest of the man holding you rumble as he speaks, the same serious tone that you heard when he had been in your massage parlor, “and figure out what to do with her.” His eyes dart down to you and then towards the other end of the alley. “Shit.” Flashes of light appear at the entrance, the one you had been forced down and the opposite of the way they had come from.

The others seem to see the same thing. “Let’s get out of here.” From what you can see of his face not covered in a mask, he has a scar cutting through one eyebrow and his hair is a deep red. He’s the one who talked about the ‘Rushers’ a moment before.

“Can you run?” Though he directs the question towards you, he doesn’t give you much time to answer, only waiting for a stiff nod before he’s tugging you along behind him. Your legs try to keep up, but the only thing that lets you keep pace with him is his hand in yours. Somehow, the grip is comforting when you had been so afraid of him not even six hours before. Before you know it, you’re shoved into a sleek black car, breathing heavily in the backseat, wedged between the long-haired man and the third who had run with you, a thin brown-haired guy.

“Step on it, John,” the red haired man growls from the passenger seat, glancing out the window. One gunshot, then two sound as the man who had been waiting in the driver seat presses hard on the gas. You don’t hear bullets hit the car, but you instinctually duck against the long-haired man, who puts a comforting hand on you. Though the driver, John, is still going at a fast pace, a sort of silence falls over the car.

“Fuck.” The other man next to you curses loudly, tearing off his mask and revealing an angry expression that doesn’t match his youthful face. “Blues and Rushers? Couldn’t get any better, could it?”

“We’ll discuss it when we get back. Give me a minute to think.” The red-haired man also takes off his mask, sighing. In any other situation, from what you can see of his side profile, you would’ve considered him to be extraordinarily handsome.

The long-haired man turns to you, trying to give you a somewhat reassuring look. “Y/N, right?” You nod. “My name is Yuta. Are you okay? Not hurt?” You shake your head. “That’s good. I know it’s a lot. How do you feel?”

“I want to go home.”

He stays silent for a moment, the sympathy fading from his eyes into a more serious look, before answering. “We can’t let you do that. It’s not safe.”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, the entire experience beginning to hit and overwhelm you as your adrenaline rush dies down. “What’s happening? I swear I’ve never seen any of those men before in my life, and I...”

He doesn’t reach out to try and comfort you this time, his eyes cold. “We’re called the Neos.” Your breath stops in your chest. You had been right when you thought he was a big name. This is Nakamoto Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta who walks away from fights without a scratch on him, who stepped into the city of Seoul one day and instantly made a name for himself - a very blood name. Your eyes shift around the car, trying to place every person as he continues. “When you come face to face with a Neo, it’s a death sentence one way or another.”

“Not a reputation we’re terribly happy about, but it exists.” The man in the passenger seat, with the red hair and scar, speaks and you put the pieces together to identify him as Lee Taeyong, their leader. There’s a rumor that the closest anyone ever got to him put that scar through his eyebrow and put them in the grave. Never in your life did you think you would ever come face to face with the leader of the Neos, but life has been full of surprises as of late.

“Since you met Yuta earlier, you’re as good as dead without us, now,” the brown-haired one says, looking out the window and not at you. If you were to take a guess based on his looks and how fast he worked to take down the men in the alley, you would place him as Mark Lee - young ace of the Neos.

The driver, from what you can see, has a dark and handsome look to him. “Sorry, babe. You’re stuck for now. Might as well enjoy the ride.” The flirting and subtle hint of an American accent - Johnny Seo. Playboy and drag racer before he somehow got involved with the Neos. From what you’ve heard of girls in town complaining, he doesn’t mess around anymore. Too risky.

You’re almost proud you can identify all of them - maybe listening to your coworkers gossip at work had its benefits. “My coworkers? Are they going to be okay?”

“They’re going to be fine. They’re not after them,” Taeyong says.

“Though, one of them is a rat,” Mark mutters under his breath.

“Shut it.” Taeyong and Mark make intense eye contact for a moment before Mark tears his eyes away, looking back out the window. You decide that it’s best if you don’t ask anymore questions.

Before long, the car slows to a stop in an area you don’t recognize and you’re ushered out of the car. You follow Yuta and Mark trails you. Like they’re expecting you to run away. Like you’re some sort of prisoner. The first floor has an open layout and you spot some tables, chairs, and boxes scattered about. One of the handful of men standing around makes eye contact with you, but Mark nudges you, pushing you to keep walking. You break eye contact and lower your head.

Taeyong diverges and gives orders to the few that are loitering. “Meeting, now. Get everyone over here.”

“I can handle her on my own, Mark. Join them,” Yuta says over his shoulder, eyeing you. Mark seems to hesitate for a moment before breaking away. Turning back around, Yuta keeps walking, leading you up to the third floor of the building. He takes you into a long hallway with many doors - mostly shut - before opening one and gesturing for you to enter. “Stay here. You’ll be safe.”

“I-” You try to say something after you step in, but he simply shuts the door. There’s a single click after he shuts it. A lock. He locked you in. A prisoner.

You look around the room. He’s right - you’re safe from the other gangs here. But you’re in danger in a whole different way. It would be stupid to try and escape now, but you can’t help and look at the window. It’s boarded shut. You observe the rest of the room. An old bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a mirror hanging on the wall. If worse came to worst, you could smash the mirror and use a shard as a weapon. You don’t want to trust the Neos. You can’t trust the Neos. Though they haven’t hurt you yet, they even saved your life, you know their reputation. You know they very well could hurt you. And you don’t want to take any risks getting comfortable.

You groan when you remember that your phone, wallet, and everything else you were carrying had been knocked out of your hands back in that alley. If you had just remembered, then maybe you’d be able to call for help now. Then again, you don’t think the Neos would be stupid enough to let you keep your phone. With a sigh, you walk to the dresser and start opening drawers. When you find them empty, you slam the last drawer shut and move to the nightstand. There, shoved in the back of the single drawer, is a pen. It’s a cheap plastic pen and definitely won’t do much damage if you have to use it as a weapon, but it’ll have to do. You slide it into your sleeve.

After thoroughly searching the room, you settle onto the bed, sitting and staring at the cracked cement floor. With the sparse furnishing and the locked door, the room feels like a cell. You wait and wait, mulling over your circumstance, until, finally, you hear the latch on the door click again and it opens. Yuta stands in the doorframe. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

“Will you let me leave yet?” You don’t hold back the snapiness in our tone - whatever your fate is to these gang members, it’s already been decided. You stand, no longer quite so afraid.

“I already told you it’s not safe.” His eyes follow you calmly as you walk towards him.

“You claim to be protecting me when you’re treating me like a prisoner.”

He scoffs in response. “You’re not a hostage and you’re not a prisoner.”

“Then why did you lock the door?”

“Why were you digging through the drawers? Looking for a weapon?” With a quick step, he moves forward and grabs your wrist, twisting it. A sharp pain runs through your arm and the pen in your sleeve slides out and clatters to the floor. “It’s going to take a lot more than just a pen.” He drops your wrist. “Come on.”

Obediently, you follow him. He takes you back to the first floor where quite a few more men are gathered than before. Looking at them, some are far too young to be called men: they’re much closer to boys. You can’t help but wonder what happened to get them involved in a group like the Neos. All of their eyes on you are sharp, cautious. Like Mark, all of the younger boys look like they’ve seen too much and the light of youth doesn’t shine as brightly in their eyes as it should. Almost like a scene out of a movie, they’re gathered around a table, Taeyong bent over a map that’s spread over its surface. He looks up when Yuta guides you over. “Any trouble?”

Yuta’s eyes flicker over to you before they move back to his leader. “None.”

Taeyong nods. “Alright. Y/N,” he says, looking at you, “you probably never thought you would hear this, but welcome to the base of the Neos.”

“Sorry we didn’t give you the warmest greeting. Strangers and all that.” The man you had first made eye contact with when you entered the building speaks up from next to Taeyong. He has a barely noticeable accent and seems to command nearly as much power as Taeyong - maybe one of the Chinese members of the Neos?

All you can manage is a nod in response. Taeyong continues. “Do you have any family in the city? Someone that can be used against you?”

“...no. I’m not from the city.”

“Easy enough to tell with that accent,” one of the younger looking members says from the side.

“Funny coming from you,” you snap back, almost instantly regretting it. To your surprise, you’re met with some snickers from the group.

“Hey, you think-” “Donghyuck, knock it off.” A sharp order from Taeyong cuts him off, but he continues to glare at you. Taeyong remains focused on you. “No one? No boyfriend, close friends, anything?”

“No,” you answer quietly.

“Best goddamn news I’ve heard all day. That means no one else is at risk. But,” he says, pausing, “we still can’t let you go back to your normal life.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“If we were going to do that, don’t you think we would’ve done it already?” Another guy you don’t recognize. He has a low, even voice and his brown hair suits his well-defined face well. “We’re not here to kill innocents.”

“We’ll help you get out. We just need time,” Taeyong says. “In the meantime, you’ll just have to lie low with us here. Got it?”

“I…” What they’re saying is being processed slowly by your brain. They aren’t going to kill you? They’re going to let you go? “What do you mean get me out?”

“Do you really think it’s safe for you in Seoul anymore? You have a target on your back now. With enough time, we’ll get you away from the city. You’ll have to start over somewhere new, but it’s better than being dead.” Taeyong is firm, but you have more questions.

“Why are you helping me?”

Taeyong’s eyes shift over quickly to meet Yuta’s, just for a moment, before he looks back at you. “Like Jaehyun said, we don’t kill innocent people. We’re here to get rid of the festering that’s happening in the city, not add to it.”

Silence spreads between you. From next to you, Yuta finally speaks. “I know it seems bad, but you’re not a prisoner. We’re doing everything we can, so just work with us.”

“I… okay. Thank you.” The room seems to relax as you say that, many of the boys looking noticeably relieved.

“One wrong step, one thing to show us you’re not innocent, and you’re still dead, though.” Donghyuck, the boy from before, says quickly, all signs of joking gone from his voice and expression.

No one corrects him.

Trying to break the tension, Taeyong gives you a tight smile. “I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Taeyong, but I’m sure you figured that out by now.” After you nod, he looks back at Yuta. “Yuta, show her around. She might as well be comfortable while she’s here. Everyone else, you’re dismissed. We’ve said all that we need to tonight.”

You quickly realize, as you’re being led around and shown different areas of the building, that Yuta is essentially your caretaker and there’s no real chance of you escaping. Not that you would want to escape, by the logic they provided. Soon enough, you also realize how tired you are. You left work maybe three hours ago by this point and the exhaustion is catching up to you. Yuta seems to notice as well, but you miss the somewhat fond smile he gives you. “We can continue this tomorrow. Let’s go back to your room.” With a nod, you follow him back up the stairs. As you walk through the long hallway filled with doors again, Yuta explains that they’re all the different members’ rooms. “I’d recommend not trespassing. For multiple reasons, one of which is that some of them couldn’t keep a clean room if their lives depended on it.” You give him a weary smile, appreciating the little attempt at making you more comfortable with him. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to trust him, but you’re too tired to be afraid at the moment. He leads you back to the room you were in before. “If you need me, I’m in the room right across from you.” He turns around, but looks back at you over his shoulder. “And, Y/N. Don’t be afraid.”

You enter your room and shut the door behind you, hearing his door close a moment later. Making your way to the bed, you sit on the edge, scrubbing at your face with your hands. You’re confused and upset and tired but, somehow, you’re no longer afraid. Though every single person in this building is capable of killing you, you want to believe that they won’t. Perhaps that’s part of the illusion. Perhaps they really are trying to help… somehow. Perhaps-

You’re torn out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. “Come in,” you say quietly.

The door opens and Taeyong is there, a large stack of clothes in his hands. “These are for you.” He crosses the room in a sparse few strides and hands them to you. You accept them graciously, giving a quick bow in thanks.

“Taeyong, thank you… where did you get these? Whose clothes….?”

He gives you a slightly pained smile. “They used to be my sister’s, back when she was here. I’m glad to see them finally get some use again.” He’s out of the room as quickly as he had entered, the door shutting behind him. You know it’s best not to press anyways. It’s strange to see such pain on a gang leader’s face, but you have the impression the Neos are different. While any other gang would have left you to die on the street, they saved you and are offering to help you. You don’t know what to think anymore. With weary bones, you change into some of the clothes that Taeyong brought and tuck yourself in, sleeping quickly and dreamlessly.

You’re awoken by a quiet knock on your door. For a moment, you panic at your surroundings, the cement walls and cold air unfamiliar to you, but you remember pretty quickly where you are and what happened to you. There’s no clock in your room, so you don’t know how long you’ve been asleep for, but sunlight streams through the gaps in the boards over your window, so you assume it’s been awhile. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and attempting to smooth back your hair, you call out to the person knocking. “Come in!”

The door opens and a shy face appears, a tall, lanky boy entering your room. His bangs sweep right above his eyes, showing that he’s in need of a fresh haircut, and he seems nervous. You vaguely recognize him from the gathering the night before, one of the boys who has probably seen far too much for how young he is. In the small amount of fresh morning light coming through the boards over your window, he seems much more youthful, thankfully. “This is for you. Yuta-hyung told me to grab some for you, so...”

In his hands is a metal bowl and chopsticks, a lid keeping in the heat of the food and making for easier transportation. He also carries a red apple. You get up, walking over to him to take the food. “What’s your name?”

He shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “Jisung.”

“Well, thank you, Jisung. I’m Y/N.” The tips of his ears turn slightly pink when you smile and thank him and he gives you a quick bow before scurrying off.

The metal bowl contains some rice topped with bits of fish and vegetables that lets off some steam when you remove the lid. Your heart warms a bit at the sight of some normality - a taste of home - and you dig in, not having realized just how hungry you are. After last night, it seemed your body forgot about some of its needs like eating and sleeping until they suddenly struck. With some food and rest in your system, you finally have the mental capacity to consider your situation.

You’re in the Neo’s headquarters, eating their food and sleeping in one of their rooms. They could have left you to die on those streets, hell, you don’t even know how they found you, but you’re alive and they brought you back here and are offering to help you out if you just give them a bit of time. You’re not sure how much you should trust them, but with the way things are going, it seems like you don’t really have a choice. You don’t doubt that they’re right that the other gangs are after you now that you’ve been with them for as long as you have.

With that conclusion, you get up, grab a change of clothes, and try to find your way back to the bathroom that Yuta had pointed you to the night before. After a successful shower, you set your mind on your next goal: washing the dishes that Jisung had brought to you. It’s the least you could do to acquire some normalcy and make less work for them. Sneaking down the stairs, you think you’re safe from running into any of the members, but when you turn the corner, you nearly lose your balance when a man nearly walks into you. He tries to steady you by grabbing your arm and you quickly regain your balance. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”

“I didn’t see you either, no worries.” When you look at him again, you realize he’s one of the ones who had spoken last night, the one you had first made eye contact with and had the slightest accent. He appears far less serious now than he did the night before, which seems to be a running theme, though he still has a strong presence. He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “I never got a chance to introduce myself last night. I’m Qian Kun.”

Notorious boss of the Wei Shens. You’d heard about him, only because a girl you had as a client once complained about how he wouldn’t help her group with something. There were rumors they had joined with the Neos, more of your coworkers’ gossipings, but you didn’t think that had actually happened. It’s safe to say that whisper is confirmed now.

“I’m Y/N,” you say before realizing that he probably very well knows who you are. “It’s… nice to meet you.”

He nods his head in acknowledgement before eyeing the dishes in your hands. “Do you know where you’re going with those?”

“I…”

“Kitchen is the other way.” He jerks his head to the opposite side of the stairs you had turned off of and gives you another small smile. “At least you’re making somewhat of an effort to keep clean. It’s appreciated.”

After making that comment, he continues past you, going up the stairs. You’re slightly bewildered by the interaction, but go in the direction he had indicated, finding yourself in the kitchen. You clean up after yourself and put things into the proper cabinets, which takes a lot of opening things and guessing, before you start to head back to your room. On the way, you spy a small bookshelf and grab the first book with an interesting title that you can see. You might as well amuse yourself doing something. Who knew that gangsters read?

You don’t know how long you spend reading before you look up when your door opens, no knock this time. Yuta leans in the doorframe, his arms crossed. His hair is tied up away from his face and the tank top he’s wearing makes you wonder how he’s not cold in the uninsulated cement building. “You don’t have to stay in here all day, you know.”

You shrug. “Nothing else I can do, really.”

Though he had been the first one you met, you’re wary of him. After all, he had threatened you in almost the exact spot you’re sitting in now. Despite that, something about him draws you to him. Maybe it’s the fact that he saved you. Maybe it’s because you saw his tattoo and helped him relieve the pain in his shoulders. Maybe you’re just fooled too easily by a handsome face. Either way, your mixed feelings about him confuse you.

He steps into the room and walks towards you, plucking the book out of your hand. When he sees the title, he smiles. “This is a good one. One of the first books I read after I got to Korea.” After he says that, he pauses, trying to gauge your reaction. You don’t know what he’s looking for, so you just look at him weirdly in response.

“So, this is yours, then?”

He clearly doesn’t find what he’s looking for, so he tears his eyes away from yours. He sits down next to you anyways “Yeah. Mark gave it to me. I read it more times than he ever did, though. He’s more into music.”

“Who isn’t into music? You don’t listen to any?” You tilt your head, giving him a questioning look.

He scoffs in a way you interpret to be joking. “Of course I listen to music. That kid is crazy about it, though. I think he wanted to be a singer or a rapper or something before he got tangled up in all of this.” Yuta pauses, thinking for a moment before he continues. “He has this old guitar in his room that he plays all the time. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him playing it last night, he does that when he gets stressed. I think it was one of the only things he brought with him here.”

“I guess I was too fast asleep to hear it,” you say quietly, thinking about Mark’s story. You can’t help but wonder how he got here. How Jisung got here. How Kun got here. How any of them got here. “Yuta, why are you here? How did you get involved with the Neos?”

He chuckles, but it’s not a happy chuckle, nothing like the way he had scoffed a minute before. It’s a sad sound, something that makes you want to know more about him. “That’s a story for another time. I’m far too sober to talk about that right now.”

“Will you tell me about the others, then?”

He tilts his head and smiles a little. “I suppose I could. Not too much, though.”

Through Yuta’s stories, you learn a little bit about each of the Neos. With each story, you think you’re learning a little bit about him, too. Finally, after he tells you about Jisung, the youngest of the Neos and the one whom you had met earlier, he stops, turning the question towards you. “I’ve told you about all of us. Tell me about you, Miss Masseuse.” He leans forward, resting an elbow on his leg, supporting his chin. With his position, part of his tattoo peaks out from behind his shirt, showing you a flash of red. You try not to stare at it.

“I’ve only been doing that for two years. I’ve been ‘Miss Pre-Med’ for longer.” He seems slightly surprised at your words, eyes widening slightly, looking for a story. For some reason, you feel comfortable talking to him about three years ago - a time you would sometimes rather forget. “In my third year of undergrad, I had a professor who hated my guts. Maybe because I actually read the textbook and corrected him when he was wrong. Maybe he hated how well I did on his tests. Don’t know, but, one day, he snapped and reported me for cheating, saying he saw me looking at another student’s test. He’d been at the university long enough that there was barely an investigation before it went on my record. That one offense was enough to get my scholarships taken away, so I had to drop out.”

His eyes darken with anger. For a moment, it seems as if he isn’t really speaking to anyone but himself. “Corrupt university. One part of what’s wrong with this city.” The darkness fades slightly and he refocuses on you. “And you stayed here and started working in the seediest part of the city? Didn’t move back with your parents?”

You smile bitterly. “My parents basically disowned me when I said I was going to university in the city. They wanted me to stay back in our town and help them run our store. I have enough siblings that it shouldn’t matter, but they refused to let me leave. But I wanted to be a doctor, so, when the time came, I left. There’s no going back to that.”

You aren’t looking at Yuta anymore, just staring down at the forgotten book lying on the floor. You realize for the first time that on the cover of the book is a beautiful depiction of azure blue waves. Your attention shifts back to Yuta when he begins to speak lowly. “We could get rid of that professor for you, you know. One name and he’s dead.”

You swallow hard. You know he’s serious. They could get it done in one night, it’s not like he’s hard to find. The darkest parts of you want to agree, to give Yuta his name and let him take care of the rest, but you know you shouldn’t. It would go against everything you strived to achieve by wanting to become a doctor. “You don’t need to do that. Revenge won’t fix anything now.”

“It’s not just about revenge,” he growls, more than serious now. He’s almost scary. “It’s about all of the other people he could fuck over with that kind of power. Do you think you’ll be the only one?”

You meet him with equal seriousness. “Yuta, I’m not going to tell you to kill someone.”

“Sometimes it’s the only way.”

“There’s always another way.” The dark look in his eyes shows you something. Something about the reason that he’s here, with the Neos. The difference between you and him and the rest of them. A part of life that you’re not sure you want to see. A desperation that, despite everything, you’ve never reached.

He looks like he’s about to say something back to you when there’s a knock on your doorframe. When he had entered, Yuta had left the door open, and a thin man with jet black hair stands there. “Yuta, it’s time to go. We’re ‘meeting’ with the Rushers.”

“Coming, Doyoung.” He stands, casting one look back at you before he follows Doyoung out. You know enough to figure that more blood will be spilled before the night is over. When you glance at the window, no daylight shines in the cracks between the boards. You spent nearly all of your time awake with Yuta. Just when you had thought you were getting to know him, you find that he’s more of a mystery than ever before. You think that, even after all he told you about them, the others are just as much of an enigma to you as he is. You don’t understand and you’re not sure if you want to.

He and the others that he had gone with aren’t back by the time you decide to go to sleep. You don’t know how much time has passed when you’re awoken by shouting outside of your door. You quickly get up, throwing on some more appropriate clothes and pushing your hair out of your face before you open the door, seeing Yuta’s door thrown open across from you. Leading into the room are small pools of blood. Inside of his room, several of the members are inside, including Doyoung, Mark, Kun, and Taeyong. When you step closer, in the dim light, you see someone’s figure on the bed, blood staining the sheets of his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that it’s Yuta and he’s bleeding from a gushing wound just below his left shoulder. Even over the cloth Mark presses over the wound, blood quickly soaks it and drips onto his arm and chest.

“Put pressure on it, dammit!” Taeyong barks and Yuta groans when Mark puts more of his weight on his wound.

“What happened?” You say, trying to shoulder past Doyoung to get closer and see.

“Shot by the damn Rushers. Dumb bastard made it worse by running after another one,” Kun says, tearing the wrapping off of a roll of bandages.

“Stop talking and help him!” Mark says, glaring at both you and Kun. You put a hand over the bandages Kun is about to start using, stopping him.

“Wait, let me help,” you say firmly, trying to step forward farther.

“Fuck off,” Mark growls, pressing down on the wound harder. More blood spills from the wound, dripping down Yuta’s skin and into the bedsheets.

“I was pre-med for three years and shadowed in hospitals! If you don’t listen to me and let me help him, you’re letting him die!”

“Mark, let her in,” Taeyong commands, making his decision instantly. Mark hesitates for a moment before quickly getting up, letting you in closer to look at Yuta. You see him watch you through hazy eyes, likely not comprehending who you are or what’s happening. You peel back the blood-soaked cloth Mark had been using to staunch the wound and see the ugly place where the bullet had entered and where the skin and tissue had been damaged further by him overexerting. Running through everything you had learned in your time at university and in your shadowing, you assess him the best you can before turning to the boys, rattling off a list of things you need to help him. They quickly turn and run to get the items and you shout after them. “And grab some rubbing alcohol and clean those off if you care about his wound not getting infected!”

The experience of removing the bullet and stitching his wound closed is a blur. The sharp metallic smell and slick warmth of blood fills your every sense and you can barely keep your hands steady enough to sew his wound shut. He eventually passes out from the pain at some point. Though he lost a decent amount of blood, you’re praying it’s not so much that he needs a blood transfer. If they could have brought him to a hospital, you assume they would have.

When you’re finished doing all that you can for him, you get the boys to help you change out the bloody sheets. You nearly collapse into the chair Kun drags over for you, exhaustion filling every bone in your body. Looking one more time at Yuta, you sigh. He’ll live. Hopefully. You want him to live, desperately.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Taeyong says softly, resting a hand on your shoulder. You bob your head up and down in response before reaching up to wipe the sweat off of your forehead. You had never had a direct hand in a procedure like that before, but you think your experience paid off.

The boys take care of the cleanup before leaving you there to sit in the chair by the bed and stare at Yuta. He looks ragged, but slightly better than he did when he was first brought in. His breathing is more even and, though he’s a bit pale, his face is relaxed. You’re startled when someone taps on your shoulder.

When you turn to face them, you see that it’s Mark. He holds a water bottle in his hand, which he offers you. “Sorry,” he mumbles, head hanging low and avoiding your eyes, “for earlier.”

“It’s okay. I know you care a lot about him.” You accept the peace offering from him, taking the bottle.

“Yeah, it’s just… I can’t lose him. He’s one of the first guys who welcomed me when I got here and-” Mark starts to ramble a bit, staring at Yuta’s sleeping figure, but he stops himself. “I’m going to bed. Tell me if anything happens?”

You nod and he leaves, leaving you alone with Yuta once again. At some point, you doze off, slumping over onto the edge of his bed. Soft mumbling wakes you up. From what you can tell by the lack of light coming through Yuta’s window, which is also boarded up, it’s still night. Trying to blink the haze out of your eyes, you sit up, looking at him. He shifts slightly in the bed, his lips moving almost soundlessly. Confused, you lean closer to try to hear him. From what you can decipher, his mumbling is entirely in Japanese, so you don’t understand any of it. The distress in his voice is clear, even at the low volume and with the language barrier, and his face scrunches in what almost seems like pain. You don’t know what else you can do, so you gently take his hand, whispering back.

“It’s okay, Yuta. It’s okay.” Your thumb strokes over the back of his hand and you feel the veins and small scars scattered on his skin. You don’t know what he’s been through, why he came here, but you have to believe that he doesn’t deserve to be going down the path he’s found himself walking on.

When you try to let go of his hand, he grips yours. You watch his eyes open, half-lidded, his gaze unsteady on you. His lips barely move, his words mumbled, but you hear him clearly.

“We’ve met before.”

Of all the things you were expecting to hear from him, that was not one of them. You have to believe he’s delirious, so you just give him a confused smile. “Of course we have, you came to Park’s Massage and-”

“On the train.” His lips barely seem to move, but you hear him loud and clear. The last time you had been on a proper train was five years ago when you first arrived in Seoul. He couldn’t-

It’s a blurry memory, a distant set of circumstances that you had nearly forgotten. It didn’t seem important at the time, but you remember now. Back then, all those years ago, you stepped off of the train into Seoul and the paperwork you needed to turn in to your university flew out of your hands as the train departed. One of the documents, one that could have prevented you from even attending if you didn’t turn it in, had almost flown away, but a man who had stepped off of the train behind you a moment before grabbed it. A man much like Yuta. His hair had been shorter then, his body less worn, a little more innocence in his eyes perhaps. He didn’t say anything to you, just smiled when you thanked him profusely, before he walked off, going who knows where. You think you know where that is now.

“Yuta, I…” You don’t know what to say. By grabbing that paper, he had kept you steady on your course to university, from university to the massage parlor, and from the massage parlor to here. You’ve met him again. He single handedly changed your life two times now.

His eyes droop closed and his grip on your hand loosens. You stay there for a couple minutes longer, feeling the weight of his hand in yours, staring at his face in the dim light of the room. Quietly, you slip your hand away and stand up, hesitantly returning to your own room.

It’s a few hours later when you go to his room to change his bandages and it’s about half a day later when he finally wakes up. He lets you worry over him, making him drink water and eat some light food. What he had told you weighs on you slightly, but you try to push those thoughts away and focus on helping him recover. When you peel back his bandages again, he hisses in pain. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“It would hurt less if you weren’t such an idiot last night,” you say back, changing his dressings. He chuckles slightly at that.

“So, when am I going to be back in action, Doc?”

“When your wound is healed enough and when I say so. You really messed yourself up, Yuta.” You glance up at him before looking back at your work. “Maybe three weeks.”

His eyes widen. “No way I’m staying out for three weeks. I’m staying here one week, max.”

“Not if you want to tear open your wound and make the damage permanent, you won’t.” The wound is still ugly, but it looks significantly better than it did when it was gushing blood and he had a bullet lodged in his flesh. It might actually be a bit less than three weeks, but you’re not taking any chances right now.

You feel his eyes watching your every move and you try to not let it bother you. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “You were really meant to do this kind of thing, weren’t you?”

The edges of your lips raise in a sort of half-smile. “I’d like to believe that. The universe seems to be against it sometimes, though.”

“Maybe you coming here was some sort of sign.” This time, you really look up, meeting his gaze. You think that he’s telling you to stay. You don’t know how to feel about it, but you can’t deny that part of your heart wants to stay. You have so many differences with them, almost irresolvable differences, and you know they won’t change just because of you either, but they saved your life. You feel like you owe them at least something.

Silence falls heavily between the two of you again as you finish up your work. When you’re done, you wipe your hands off and put them in your lap. “Yuta,” you say quietly, “do you remember what you told me last night? About the train?”

He appears confused before realization dawns in his eyes a moment later. “Ah. I wasn’t going to tell you about that yet.” His eyes meet yours and then flicker away. Your eyebrows furrow and you lean closer to him in response.

“Why not? Don’t you think it’s incredible that-”

“That we met again? I guess so. But it makes it seem like we were targeting you this whole time. That’s not the way the Neos work. You…” he trails off, sighing softly. “...you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time this time around.”

There’s regret in his voice, so you reach out for his hand. “I’m glad I met you then. Did you know you saved me that day? I couldn’t have gone to university if you hadn’t grabbed that paper for me. I think that it’s just the way the universe works that we’ve met again so that I can help you. Repaying you, in a way, I suppose.”

He stares at your hand in his and smiles ever so slightly. “That’s a very optimistic view.”

“I suppose it is. But, being in the medical field, I guess I have to keep some of that optimism. It’s what makes it worth it.” You squeeze his hand once before standing up. “I’m going to go tell Mark you’re awake. He nearly murdered me last night because I wanted to help.”

“He’s a pretty sensitive kid, he just doesn’t show it a lot. I owe him a lot.”

“He feels the same way. He opened up a little after you were fixed up last night.” You don’t say it, but you feel like there’s a lot more to the Neos than they’re usually letting on. “I’ll check up on you later.”

Mark is gone from your eyesight and rushing out the door as soon as you tell him Yuta is awake. Through the day, you’re certain that nearly every member of the group goes in and out of his room. Yuta isn’t happy being stuck in his bed, but is wise enough to listen to your advice and stay and rest. You’re changing his wound dressings again at night when he groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is going to be the longest three weeks of my life.”

“I’m also stuck here with you, you know.”

“I guess you’ll have to be my entertainment, then.” His tone completely changes and he catches your chin with his hand, tilting your head up. The smolder he meets you with sends a pleasant, anticipatory shiver down your spine. This is certainly not a side of his personality that you’ve seen before. Where did this come from?

“I hardly know you,” you breathe out, “and you’re injured.”

“Most of me is perfectly fine.” His hand shifts from your chin, slipping back to stroke over your hair, but you catch the way he cringes slightly when his wound is disturbed by the motion. A short laugh escapes you at his attempt to be sexy while in pain.

“You’re an idiot, Nakamoto. Maybe another time.” You stand up, stepping backwards towards the door of the room. “Get some rest.”

With not much to do except spend time together, you get to know Yuta well over the next few weeks. You find out especially well that he’s a horrible flirt. Not horrible in the sense that he’s bad at it, he’s actually quite good, but he spends almost as much of his breath flirting with you as he does being serious. In the spaces of time where you get to know each other, he doesn’t tell you much about his past, still insisting that he’s far too sober to speak about it. The two of you keep well enough away from the topics of life and death and morality, but it can’t help but be brought up sometimes. You don’t know how high his body count is, but you’re starting to get an idea.

In the time you’re not with Yuta, you get to know some of the other members more through wandering around the building and tending to minor wounds. Some are friendlier than others, but they’re not nearly as serious around you as they were at first after a little while. You’d like to believe they warmed up to you a bit. You also find that the building has roof access. The door is usually locked and barred shut, but you go outside just to get some fresh air because you can’t leave otherwise and the windows are all boarded up. The Seoul sky is almost perpetually cloudy and dark, so different from where you grew up. Even with that twinge of homesickness, somewhere along those days, you stop waiting to leave and just focus on your time there. Before you know it, the end of three weeks approaches. The final night, you peek into Yuta’s room.

“What are you doing?” He muses, quirking an eyebrow at you. He leans against one of the concrete walls, a book in hand. He had taken to reading more while being confined to the building, you noticed. Ducking into his room, you hold your gift for him behind your back before pulling it out and revealing what it is. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Sake? I thought you said no drinking while I’m recovering?”

“Well,” you say, “I deem you recovered.” Putting aside the small bottle of alcohol and cups, you carefully unwrap his wound. You had taken out the stitches a few days previous and you’re happy to see that the wound is healing well. Well enough for you to declare him no longer out-of- commission. “Now, let’s go. You’re having your first celebratory drink with me.”

“Where are we going?” You grab a blanket off of his bed before turning back around to face him.

“You’ll see. Come on!”

You take him to the rooftop with you. This time, he’s the one taking your hand.

It’s dark outside, long past sunset. It’s better that way - probably safer, in the case that one of the enemy gangs is trying to spy on you. You should find it strange how your mind has shifted into thinking about those sorts of things now, but you suppose this is part of your life now. No matter how you cut it, the Neos changed you. As you’re laying out the blanket, Yuta questions you, swirling the alcohol in the bottle idly. “Where did you even get this? Did you raid Taeil’s liquor cabinet?”

“I got Chenle to run out and grab it for me. That kid knows way too much about alcohol for someone his age.” After you take the bottle of sake from him and put it down, you pat the space next to you on the blanket. He joins you, settling near you. Cracking open the bottle with a little too much flare, you pour sake into the little cup he holds in his hand first, then your own. “Cheers,” you say, lifting up your cup, “to your recovery.”

You down the cups at the same time, you wincing slightly at the sharp taste of the alcohol. He chuckles at your reaction. “Not used to sake?”

“I’m more of a soju person myself.” That one has him cracking a wider smile.

“We’d better have another, then. To get you accustomed to the taste.” He pours for you this time, tilting his chin towards you in acknowledgement. “This time, cheers to the best doctor in all of the Neos.”

This drink burns a little less than the one before. Slowly, you process what he had just said to you. “The best doctor in all of the Neos, huh? Am I a member now?”

The smile fades slightly on his lips, but the ghost of one remains. “Taeyong and I have been meaning to extend the invitation to you for a while now. We’ve got most of the arrangements for you to leave done, but you’d make a valuable member of our team if you wanted to stay.” He pauses, swallowing heavily. “I know we promised you we would get you out of here. But you can always stay. If you want to.”

He reaches a hand out, his fingertips barely grazing your cheek. A part of you wants him to touch you more, like he means it, like he desperately wants you to stay. Another part of you thinks about your life before all of this. Before you got roped up into all the business with the Neos, before you had to drop out of university, maybe even before you left your family in the country. A life with a little more peace. A life with a lot less Yuta. With his presence recently, you’re not sure you want to remember what a life without him feels like. Despite all the bitterness and blood he’s brought, you’ve connected with him in a way that you never have with anyone else. In a way that feels like the universe planned it, like you were somehow meant to be here all along. He’s so different from you. But, maybe, with a little more time, you can come to terms with that.

“Yuta,” you say, voice so quiet, like you’re afraid to answer. Because you’re afraid to answer. “Give me just a little time. To think about what all this means.”

“You’ll always have a place here, you know. With us.” With me. He doesn’t say that part, but you know with the way that he pushes your hair away from your face ever so gently that that’s what he means. You blink and he’s pulling away, reaching for the bottle of sake again. “Let’s have another drink.”

“To what this time?”

“Do you really have to have a reason to drink?” He smirks, a typical look for him, and pours for you.

“Let’s toast to the future, then,” you say. As you tilt back the alcohol into your mouth and swallow the burning liquid, you throw a wish into the night sky, asking for the right answer to your question. You try your best to see the stars, to find even a single one, but the city is unforgiving and all you can see is the moon, even with the relatively clear sky tonight. After you’re done with your drink, you set aside the cup, leaning back into your hands. “I’m not from the city,” you say, staring up at the inky gray-black sky, “I miss the stars.”

He laughs, a cold sound coming from what you want to believe is a warm heart. “I’m from Osaka. I’ve never really been able to see them.”

“Finally drunk enough to talk about the past?” You glance over at him, tilting your head to the side and smiling. When you tilt your head, the world sways slightly and you can feel warmth on your cheeks and a buzz in your fingers. You’re starting to feel the alcohol well enough now.

“Not quite,” he says, “but maybe if a pretty lady pours me another drink, I will be.”

“I wonder where you’ll find one of those,” you say, giggling. “Maybe if we put Jungwoo in a dress and wig, you could pretend?”

“Or I could ask the one right next to me.” Your giggling grows a little louder and a little more boisterously and you reach forward, picking up the bottle.

“What a charmer. I wonder where you got that from. Johnny influence you?”

“Oh, please. I’m far better at it than he ever was.” The two of you drain your cups quickly, placing them back down.

“Jaemin, then?”

“You’re comparing me to one of the kids? You offend me.”

“Lucas?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t talk about other men.” Your breath catches in your throat and your giggling stops at the smoldering look in his eyes. The mood suddenly shifts inexplicably into something more somber. He looks away and says a name that you can barely hear. “Hansol. It was Hansol.”

“Who was he?” You’re almost afraid to ask. You’ve never seen that look in Yuta’s eyes before. It’s pain and loneliness and an unbearable sadness that makes your heart ache in response. Despite the way your heart feels so heavy in your chest, you can’t stop staring at him.

“He brought me here. To the Neos. Away from Osaka, where I was rotting away in a gang that was all bloodshed and no purpose. There was a terf war in east Seoul one day that ended with him getting shot three times. It was a lot worse than mine and we didn’t have someone like you then. He died before we even got back to base.” Yuta’s eyes are trained on the sky, looking at nothing in particular yet seeming to see something that you don’t. “We didn’t have as much of a mission then as we do now. Part of it is because of him. Everyone here has more of their own reasons, too. Mark had a dad. Taeyong had a sister. I had Hansol.” He looks back at you. “Is that the story you wanted to hear?”

“I’m sorry…” It’s all you can say. All you can manage when you feel like crying for him.

“It’s okay. That was four years ago, anyways.” Four years. Four years ago, you were a sophomore in undergrad, not a care in the world besides your organic chemistry and biology classes and all sorts of dumb things that seem so small in comparison to what he was going through. On the train that day, five years ago, you had parted ways to go down completely different paths that are now converging again. You blink back the tears and stare back out at the sky. A cool breeze blows on the roof, but it feels good against your warm skin.

“We should go out and look one day, you and I. See the stars.” When you say that, he first responds with a bitter laugh.

“I’m busy.”

“Busy forever?”

“Yeah,” he says before looking over, “but maybe I could make some time for you. No promises.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You pour two more cups, finding that that’s the end of the bottle. It was a small bottle in the first place, but you’re almost disappointed that the two of you went through it so quickly. It was an excuse for him to stay with you for a little longer after you declared him healthy again. An excuse for just a little more time. With Yuta’s offer from earlier, you could get even more time. The thought brings a tugging feeling to your heartstrings. Could you really give up the chance at a new life for the sake of this man?

“A shame,” Yuta says, watching the last few drops fall from the container, “that was some good stuff, too. Looks like we’ll have to savor this last one.”

You raise your cup to him and he raises his to you in return before you both down the last of the sake. The cup leaves your lips and you smile. “Perhaps I’m becoming a sake person after all.”

“Is that so? We’ll have to drink together more often, then.”

“Only if you promise you won’t get hurt anymore.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them and, even in your tipsy-edging-on-drunk state, you know how foolish what you said is.

He smiles, a sort of sad smile that you wish he didn’t have to give you. “I’ll try my best. You know I can’t make that promise.” He lowers his voice, eyes flickering down to the empty cup in his hand. “There aren’t many promises I can make you that I’m sure I can keep.”

You set your empty cup aside, along with the bottle, and shift closer to him. You lay your hand over his, your fingers falling in the gaps between his. Even with the alcohol, his fingertips still feel slightly cool. “You don’t have to. Being here with you now is enough.”

Quickly, he flips his hand around, catching your hand in his. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss to them. Your heart nearly stops beating for the second time that night. The unspoken words between you are longing to escape, but neither of you can or want to speak. You feel like his heart is finally opening completely to you. You just have one more question first.

Regrettably, you break the moment, reaching over with your free hand to take the sake cup that he’s still holding on to. “Can I ask you something?” You speak as you set aside the cup behind you. He lets go of your hand and your arm instantly feels heavier. You have to stop yourself from pouting at the loss of contact. He tears his eyes away from yours, opting to gaze out at the rising moon instead. Your eyes never leave him.

“Anything you want.”

“That day, you could have just killed me. Or let me die. Anything like that. Why…?” The night air is still between you.

“Maybe I wanted my own personal masseuse.” He looks over at you again when you sigh softly. He looks breathtakingly handsome in the city lights and moonlight bathing him. The ratty wool blanket under both of you protects you from the cold that threatens to seep into your bones from the cement beneath while the blanket of moonlight from above guards you from a different type of cold that you can’t describe. He reaches over, taking your hand gently in his again. “Your hands,” he says, so quietly, as if you’ll break if he’s too loud, “they’re too gentle for someone like me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You implore him to answer your questions with your eyes, maintaining eye contact with him and giving him a pleading look.

“We’re not what you think of when the word gang comes to mind. You know that already. No matter what, every innocent person is worth saving. We’re trying to save this city, not cause more meaningless bloodshed. Before we even really knew you, you were worth saving.” He blinks slowly. “Now, I’m especially glad we did.”

“Yuta,” you whisper, trying to read everything that his eyes are showing you and also say exactly what you’re feeling yourself. “I don’t think it was the wrong place at the wrong time. I think everything turned out the way it was supposed to.”

He still has your hand in his and his grip tightens. His free hand travels to your cheek, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches as he does so and the corners of his lips curl up at your reaction. He leans closer. His breath, slightly sharp with the smell of sake, washes over your lips. “Are you afraid?”

“No.”

The danger of him, of doing this, hums through your body as he kisses you. Your blood is hot with the alcohol and the feeling of him against you. He drags you closer so that you’re straddling his lap and you moan into the kiss. His skin feels even hotter than yours when his hands shift to slip under your shirt, having lost all of the previous coldness, stroking your sides. His lips separate from yours ever so slightly, his words barely even breathed against your lips. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

“Please don’t stop.”

The blanket, bottle, and cups are forgotten as the two of you stumble back down the stairs inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind you, Yuta’s bedroom close but not close enough. His hands shake with urgency as he practically tears your shirt and pants off. He strips off his shirt and his tattoo, an ocean red with blood, is visible to you once again. You don’t have much time to dwell on it before his pants are also off and he’s pinning you to his bed, his lips trailing down your entire body. You welcome him between your legs, letting him taste you and kiss you and do whatever he wants with your body. When he’s above you again, finally pressing into you, filling you in ways you never would have imagined, your eyes lower to his chest with all of his lean muscle and scars and the almost-healed bullet wound below his left shoulder, but you don’t have much time to think about that. You let him pound into you, let him press a hand to your mouth to muffle your drawn-out moans at his ministrations, at one of his hands dipping lower to bring you closer to the edge, let him kiss you when he isn’t using his hand to muffle your sounds. You yourself let go around him, let him release into the condom he had somehow managed to remember, let him pull you close once it’s all finished.

You wait for the regret to set in, but you don’t find any. Even now, you don’t regret Yuta. His arms feel good around you and his sweaty chest feels good pressed against your back. His lips feel good pressing against your neck, whispering sweet things to you that you’re too tired to really comprehend and commit to memory. You know he waits for you to fall asleep and, despite your best efforts to stay awake, you doze off, feeling warm both inside and out.

You wake up because it’s cold. You immediately realize that Yuta is no longer next to you, so you sit up in his bed. You’re about to say his name when quiet voices outside his door draw your attention. A little bit of orange light leaks through the boards over the windows, showing you that it’s only a little bit past dawn. Peeling away the covers except a blanket that you wrap around your body, you step as quietly as you can towards the door, leaning in to listen. You quickly recognize Taeyong’s voice along with Yuta’s.

“She said she needs time to think about it. I think there’s a good chance she might stay.” Ah. The offer that he had presented to you. You can’t help but smile. He sounds almost hopeful.

“Even if she wants out, I want to use her to talk to the RVs.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Another gang?

“We aren’t going to use her. I don’t want her involved with them. They’re too dangerous.”

“And the Rushers and Blue Veins aren’t? You weren’t so against using her to get the rat out of Park’s. What’s changed now?” Taeyong is short with the way he speaks, but what he says makes you freeze. They used you? Suddenly, it’s painful to swallow and you feel like you’re about to collapse. Everything… everything you’ve built here is fake. You’ve been lied to. They didn’t take you here to protect you. They took you here because they were responsible for the danger in the first place.

Deep pain starts to mix with anger as you listen to Yuta’s response. “I met her back then, you know that. Now, she’s saved my life. She’s more than bait now and she’s more to me.”

“I know you just got your dick wet, but think clearly. She’s the closest woman we have right now and the RVs don’t trust men. We need her to do this.” Silence falls between the two men for a moment before Yuta responds.

“I’ll ask her. Hopefully, she’ll be rational and say no.” He pauses before continuing. “And, don’t talk about her like that.”

When he opens the door and sees you a few feet away from the door, a wide-eyed look on your face with a blanket wrapped around you, he freezes. A moment later, he steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Y/N… how much did you hear?”

“Too much,” you say, your lips feeling numb as you speak, “but also just enough.”

“Y/N…” His expression shifts and he reaches forward to touch your shoulder, saying your name more softly than you’ve ever heard something leave his lips before. A few hours ago, him saying your name like that would’ve made your heart beat faster and a smile grace your lips, but now you just want to punch him. How dare he? You jerk away from his touch and stand up, your blood now boiling in your veins.

“You bastard,” you hiss, “you used me. You used me and then you let me fuck you.” You keep your voice low and your fists clenched despite the urge to scream, to hit him, to make him feel the way you do right now.

His eyebrows furrow. “Y/N… you don’t understand. The whole city-”

“No, Yuta, you don’t understand. I’ve been trying to get my life back on track for two years now and you used me, knowing my life would be fucked up forever after that.” You suddenly feel ridiculous, standing there arguing with the man who had ruined your life even more, the man you had just slept with, with only a blanket draped around your body. You turn, locating your underwear on the floor by the bed. As you slip into it, a headache, a mix of your rage and a coming hangover, starts to pound at your temples.

“We would never do anything with the purpose of hurting you, you know that.” Your bra is next, near where your underwear was.

You scoff, tugging on your own shirt from where it was abandoned in your haste a few hours ago. “Oh, because knowing I would get hurt as a consequence anyways is just so much better, isn’t it?”

“Y/N. Don’t talk like that.” He steps into your path after you pull your pants on and fix them around your hips.

Your gaze, once so timid, is now an intense glare. “Don’t try to intimidate me. I’m not afraid of you anymore, Nakamoto.” You clench your teeth, not breaking eye contact with him. “Am I only now a person worth more than just bait to lure out another gang? Do people not have value before they become useful to you?”

“Of course not. Y/N, you know we’re fighting for everyone. You know how I feel about you. You know I-”

He stops speaking when your hand raises in an attempt to slap him. With lightning fast reflexes, he grabs your arm, twisting it and raising his opposite hand. You try not to flinch, maintaining eye contact with him. “Go on. Hit me back. You couldn’t hurt me any more than you already have.”

At that, he drops your arm and lets you shove past him to exit the room. Suddenly, the building is suffocating and you have to get out. You’ve been here for a month and haven’t left, not once complaining, believing they were protecting you. A part of you logically knows that the other gangs are after you and that, in some ways, they are protecting you, but you’re so angry and hurt that you no longer care. Past all the rooms, down the stairs, to the front, where Jeno is sitting on watch. At first, he just looks at you blearily, but immediately scrambles up and towards you when your hand moves to unlock the door, stopping you.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing? You can’t go out there!” Ordinarily, you wouldn’t yell at the poor kid, as he’s one of the nicest, most innocent members, but right now he’s standing in your way.

“I’m sick of being your prisoner while you say you’re protecting me! Taeyong promised me I could leave, so I’m doing that. I’m so fucking sick of this.”

Speak of the devil and so he shall appear. The stairs creak behind you and you turn to see Taeyong. “Y/N. Go back to your room.”

“You’re not my leader. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I don’t want to threaten you, Y/N, but I am the one with the gun.” His hand not-so-subtlely shifts to his belt, where his handgun is. Your hand lowers from the locks. “We’ll talk in your room. Come on.”

Obediently, you follow him, your head pounding with each step back into what you feel has become your prison. Once you’re both inside, he turns around. “I understand your frustration. However, we need you one more time. Most of the arrangements have been made. Help us with the RVs and we’ll let you go.”

You scoff. “I don’t get a choice this time?”

“You still want to stay with us?” You don’t respond, so he takes that as confirmation. “We’re going to see them tomorrow. After that, we’ll send you off to Japan with a new identity and a new life. I suggest you take care of all of your business before then.” His eyes flicker to the doorway and you don’t have to turn around to know who’s there.

Not even sparing him a glance, you turn around and walk back out the door, this time in the opposite direction you had come from. You go to the roof, where the door had been locked clumsily last night in your haste to get in each other’s pants. To your relief, he doesn’t follow you. The early morning light is painting the sky in colors that you don’t see too often anymore, soft pinks and yellows that are far too bright and pretty for how mournful and gray you feel. After you shut the door behind you, you see the blanket you had left out, along with the empty sake bottle and cups. In a spike of anger, you walk forward, grab the bottle, and throw it as hard as you can against the concrete of the wall by the door. The bottle shatters, scattering pieces of glass on that part of the roof. A shard flies towards you and you raise your arm, letting it slice into your forearm instead of your face. You just take the pain, listening to the small pieces of glass fall to the ground. You look at the place the glass had sliced into your skin and wince, touching the blood beginning to leak from the wound.

Tears prick your eyes at the pain and, before you know it, you’re sobbing, curling in on yourself, crying into your hands. The anger melts into hurt again. It feels like your heart has been torn from your chest. Without even trying, Yuta had taken everything that you had been willing to give him and you don’t know if you’ll ever get it back. You have to move forward, go to Japan, and start a new life with the pain of the Neos always resting in your heart. There’s only one way forward now. You cry until your headache becomes too painful to handle and there are no more tears left for you to shed.

Inside, you take care of your bleeding arm and drink some water before you sleep. A knock on your door awakens you a few hours later. Taeyong steps inside, a folded pile of clothes in his hands. “Something practical but fashionable to wear tomorrow. The RVs won’t accept anything less.”

He leaves just as quickly as he had come in. While that interaction is quick, the rest of the day is not. The few times you leave your room to eat and use their bathroom, it’s like the first day you were here. You avoid looking at the members and you don’t talk to them. Finally, it’s some time in the evening when there’s another knock on your door. You had been unsuccessfully trying to read for who knows how long, so when the door opens and Yuta is there, it really is like the first day again. He eyes the book open in front of you before looking up, catching your eyes. When you would usually smile at him, you meet him with a blank look this time, waiting for him to say something.

“Y/N,” he starts, voice soft, like it had been earlier. Your heart aches this time. He stays in the doorway. “I never meant for you to get hurt. I’m sorry. You still saved my life. For that, I’ll always owe you.” He pauses, the silence falling heavily between you. “I have feelings for you. I’m not going to lie to you. But I know that won’t keep you here if you don’t want to be here.”

As he starts to turn back around, you call out to him. “Yuta.” He stops, looking back at you, waiting for you to speak. “Why is your tattoo red and not blue?”

He swallows hard. “To remind me that it might take a sea of blood to change the world.”

You nod slowly. “I think… I understand now. We’ll never be the same, you and I. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand you, no matter how hard I try. We might have too many differences to ever reconcile them.”

“I’m sorry. For bringing you into this.” All you do is shake your head. He leaves.

It’s hard to sleep that night.

The meeting with who they call the “RVs” is in the evening the next day. The outfit Taeyong brought you is a pair of black jeans and a flowy black shirt, banded around the waist and with loose sleeves, black ankle boots with a slight heel, and a gray-washed jean jacket. You almost hate to admit it, but it’s the slickest outfit you’ve worn in a while, especially since coming here. With your hair falling loosely, you feel ready for whatever this meeting is.

A quiet knock on your door has you turning around. You open it to see Jisung. He’s the quietest out of the members, so you’re surprised to see him. “Here,” he says, offering you a sheathed knife, complete with some leather straps. You take it from him, your eyes wide. He doesn’t meet your eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if something goes wrong, it’s good to have a weapon. You can hide it under your shirt. Chenle and I got it for you. Don’t tell the hyungs, they’ll get mad.”

Tears nearly prick at your eyes. “Thank you, Jisung. I won’t tell them. In all luck, I won’t even have to use it.” He bows quickly before hurrying away. With the door shut again, you raise up your shirt, finding that the outline of the sheath isn’t even visible beneath the material once you’ve secured it against your side.

Doyoung collects you from your room a few minutes later and you follow him, Taeyong, and Yuta to a car waiting just outside the front entrance. The last few golden orange rays of the sunset graze the sky. “Do you know how to get to the Bakery?” Taeyong asks Doyoung after he gets into the driver seat.

“I would certainly hope so. I’ve been there enough.”

Yuta leans closer to you and you instinctively lean away. He frowns and you reposition yourself, trying to not be deliberately avoidant. “The Bakery is where the Red Velvets are located. It’s not an actual bakery, just some warehouse they took over.” So, it’s the Red Velvets. You probably should have realized that’s what “RVs” meant, but you were a bit mentally occupied with other things. They’re a notorious female gang, small in members, but particularly dangerous. “They don’t really trust men,” Yuta adds, “that’s why we need you.”

“What do you even want me to do?”

Taeyong speaks up this time. “We’re trying to get them to ally with us. They’re not heartless - they killed their old boss and took off because he was doing despicable things to women. Part of the reason for their distrust. We just need to get them on our side. To cooperate with us. Just do your best to get their confidence in us.”

“Hopefully, Irene isn’t too difficult today. She’s the hardest to convince out of any of them,” Doyoung says. As you talk with them on the way over, things almost feel normal, like the last few days, but your heart feels too heavy for it to feel exactly right. You know Yuta glances over at you periodically and you can’t help looking back at him sometimes.

You don’t know what you were expecting to see when you first meet the Red Velvets, but the image in your mind probably wasn’t this. A stunningly beautiful woman greets you at the door, smiling at only you amongst your group and introducing herself as Yeri. She leads you all down a long, dark hall, into a room. There’s a large circular table with nine chairs, arranged almost like a makeshift conference room. Three of the chairs are occupied by more women, equally as beautiful as Yeri. She sits down next to them. The four of you take your seats across from them. You eye the empty chair curiously and, as you’re doing so, you hear the clicking of heels from behind you. Another woman enters, taking the final seat. All of them are dressed as Taeyong had told you to dress - fashionable, but practical. “I suppose we can begin, then?” One of them says, smiling sweetly. “What is it that the Neos want from us?”

Taeyong glances at the rest of us before looking back at them. “We want to propose an alliance.”

“Oh?” Yeri questions. “And why would we be interested in that?”

“Our organizations aren’t so different. We��re both after something bigger, better than just bullying innocent people into submission. It’s about time that we become allies,” Doyoung says, his voice even and calm.

“Not a bad point,” a third woman says, “what do you have to say, Wendy?”

“Why should we even trust you? What have you done that’s so good and righteous?”

“We don’t abandon people. We save them. Y/N is living proof of that.” Yuta jerks his head towards you after he says his part and you give a shallow nod of acknowledgment.

“Let her speak for herself, then.” The final woman, the one who had walked in last, gets up, walking around the table to your side. She stops in front of you, reaching out a hand and tilting your chin up with one finger. “Y/N, was it? Tell us why we should trust these men.”

Her gaze is seductive, ruby lips parted, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. Her eyes make you want to tell the truth, unfiltered. You blink to clear your head, deciding that you’ll speak from your heart, consequences be damned. “They’re not lying. They could have left me on that street, could have let the Rushers or Blue Veins kill me. But, they saved me and took responsibility, even though they had gotten me into that mess in the first place. I…” You break eye contact with her, your eyes almost unconsciously shifting over to Yuta. You look back at her. “For the last while, they’ve treated me almost like a member of their own group. And, despite everything, I don’t regret meeting them. They’ve done some terrible things, but I understand why. I want the bloodshed to stop as much as any of you do. They’ve shed blood on their own, changed lives, but I trust them.”

A quiet hum leaves her. Her thumb brushes over your bottom lip once before she takes her hand away, stepping back to her side of the table. The first woman watches her sit down again, a look of mixed amusement and weariness in her eyes. “Are you done playing your games, Irene?”

“Games? I just got a very honest confession out of our most honored guest, Seulgi.” Her painted red lips curve up into a smile. “I trust her and her story.”

“Joy? Wendy? Yeri?” None of the others speak as Irene calls upon them, only nodding. Irene, who you now figure is the leader, gives your side a wry smile. “I suppose we’re in agreement, then. We’ll ally with you, Neos. Should you need us or should we need you, we are in this together, now.” She stands and the others follow. The Neos do the same, so you do, as well. She extends a hand across the table. Taeyong meets her halfway, shaking firmly.

Yeri leads all of you out again, Irene joining her to walk besides you. Though the meeting hadn’t been long, the tension was enough to make your legs feel like jelly. As you’re about to exit the building, Irene stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in your ear at a low enough volume that none of the boys can hear. “If you ever need a different home, our doors are always open to you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You smile and whisper back, following the Neos out. Yuta’s eyes follow you the entire way, eyes narrowed as Irene whispers to you. As you leave, he reaches out, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widen, but you don’t shake him off. “What are you doing?”

“Showing them that you’re not on the market.” His grip on your hand is nearly crushing, but you accept it for the moment. The way his fingers interlace with yours feels so natural, so nice, that you almost forget the whole incident from the previous day. After you get back into the car, he lets go of your hand, but the feeling remains.

“Fuck,” you hiss, realizing that Yuta’s grip on your hand had caused the cut from the sake bottle to start weeping blood again. Yuta reaches forward when he sees red begin to soak the bandage peeking out from under your sleeve.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” you say through gritted teeth, pulling your arm closer to your body. He frowns, but doesn’t comment on it again. It’s a quiet few minutes between all of you after that, so Yuta takes the opportunity to turn to you. “The offer is still open. You can stay.”

“Yuta, I-” You don’t have time to respond to him before gunshots start firing off around the car. From the noise the car makes and the way Doyoung loses control, one of the tires has been popped. Before you can really think, there’s an explosion from the opposite side of the car and it’s flipping. You think you hear Yuta yell your name, but your ears are ringing from the explosion and you have no room to think as the car makes contact with the ground. The windows shatter, spraying glass all over all of you. The car tumbles once, twice more before coming to rest upside down. Your head is spinning and red and black spots cover your vision. It smells like blood and burning and you think something in the engine on fire. Everywhere hurts. Somehow, you manage to get your seatbelt off and away from your body. Every move you make feels like your skin is being sliced open and you want to throw up. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you’re getting shards of glass stuck in your skin as you try to crawl out the shattered window, but that’s the least of your concerns. Breathing is a conscious effort and you feel like you could pass out, just go to sleep at any time. Your skin feels hot and sticky with blood. The sheath of Jisung’s knife presses into your side. Finally, with one last pull, your leg is free from the car seat you had hardly realized it was stuck under, and you finish crawling out from the car. After you’re out, you turn to look at the wreckage, seeing the slumped bodies of Taeyong, Doyoung, and Yuta. Yuta. He’s the closest to you, so you reach out for him.

“Yuta…” you can barely choke out his name, your breaths coming shallowly. A line of blood traces down his face and his eyes are closed. Before you can try to get closer and see if he’s still breathing or if any of the parts of the car are impaled in his body, someone drags you backwards. With the little strength you have left, you try to fight back, pulling in the opposite direction. “No… Yuta!”

“Shut up. You think he could survive a crash like that?”

“I survived it! Get the hell off of me!” You try to scramble forward again, but the man holding you back tugs harder. You turn just enough to see the tattoo on his arm. Bright blue veins tattooed artificially into his arm. You want to scream, but you don’t know who would hear you. People you had started to consider your friends are in that car, bleeding to death, soon to burn alive, and you have to save them. “Let me go. Let me go!”

As you scream, the Blue Vein drags you back by your arm, his fingers digging into your bottle cut. That last bit of pain is enough to push you over the edge and the black spots finally overtake your vision.

The sound of crying is what brings you to consciousness. That, and the mind-numbing pain that fills your body. A whimper of pain leaves you as soon as you try to find your voice. “Shh, it’s alright.”

An unfamiliar voice has you peeling open your eyelids, seeing an unfamiliar woman in front of you, using dull tweezers to pull the shards of glass out of your skin. A bowl full of the sharp pieces of the car windows is next to you and a gruff, heavily tattooed man stands behind her. “That’s enough.”

The kind-looking woman moves away quickly and fearfully and the man moves forward. “So, you’re the Neos’ new fleshlight, huh?”

You shakily open your mouth and he smirks, expecting some pitiful comment to escape you. Instead, you grit your teeth and hiss out your next words. “Fuck you.”

By his expression, you can tell he isn’t pleased. However, his face quickly morphs from showing irritation and anger to showing smug pleasure. The smile he’s giving you leaves an unsettling feeling in your gut. “You’re lucky you’re still alive. Or, not so lucky, once we pick out every piece of info about the Neos from you that we can. It will be fun for us, but so much for you. I can promise you that.” He turns to the woman who had stepped back. “Take care of those wounds. I’ll be back later.”

As soon as he leaves and you hear a door open, shut, and lock, you try to get up, but the sharp pain throughout your body brings you to a halt quickly. The woman rushes forward, trying to get you to lie back down. “Please stop, you’ll hurt yourself more.”

You try to analyze her, but your brain feels slow and fuzzy with pain. She has dirt on her face and her hair and simple clothes are dirty, like she hasn’t bathed or changed in a while. All you can tell from her exposed arms is that she doesn’t have the markings of a Blue Vein member. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Sooyoung. But, please, listen to me.” The logical side of your mind wins out against the desperate side and you lie back down, wincing. You recognize that you’re in some sort of bed and the room is dimly lit. From your position, you look out at the rest of the room and see several other people, all huddled near each other, tired, fearful looks on their faces. With a little more observance, they all have cuts, bruises, and dirt covering their skin, similar to Sooyoung.

“Where am I? Who are all you people?”

“You were taken by the Blue Veins. From what they were saying, it sounds like you were in some sort of crash.” The memory of what happened right before you blacked out comes to you and you suddenly feel even sicker. You want to cry, but you don’t have any strength left for that. In all likelihood, Yuta, Doyoung, and Taeyong are dead. You have to pray they’re alive, but with the way the crash was looking, you don’t place any faith in that. You look back at Sooyoung’s face as she speaks again. “We were all taken by them.” Her voice lowers, mostly out of fear. “Girls have come and gone. We think they sell them. Some people are here because they know a member of a different gang. It’s… it’s all just waiting. Waiting for when you’ll be next.”

Suddenly, even in your weak state, you feel like you understand. Why the Neos believe what they do. Why they’re fighting. Why they’re willing to make sacrifices. Who they’re fighting for.

“I…” You say slowly, each word feeling like a promise, “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widen. “What? There is no way to help. We’ve tried, I promise you we’ve tried, but-”

“The Neos. If they figure out where I am, they’ll come for me,” you take a deep breath, wincing when it hurts to breathe in, “even if they don’t, I’ll find a way.” You become aware of the feeling of Jisung’s knife still pressing into your side. You choose to put your trust in this woman you just met, so you slowly move your body, choking back noises at the pain, reach under your shirt, untie the leather strapping the knife to your side, and pull it out. “Take this,” you say, trying to offer it to her. She doesn’t move, her eyes large with fear. “Hide it for now. I’ll think of something.”

With a little more urging, she takes it. She stows it away between the mattress and the bedsprings of the old, creaky bed you’re lying on before facing you again. “Please, try to recover. They won’t give you long, maybe a few days at best. I don’t know if your friends are coming, but… this is the best chance we’ve got.”

With your promises, you find that the rest of your strength is sapped for the moment and you slip away into sleep.

You don’t know how many days pass. You suspect the Blue Veins are only allowing you to recover now so that it hurts more when they try to get information out of you. With a painfully small amount of food and water being given to you, your body still aches and you want desperately to leave. But, you use the time to think. Wait for the right opportunity. You speak quietly with the others in the room when the gang members aren’t around. Too many of them are innocent men, women, children, weak people. People who have no place being thrown into the violence they have. Every so often, a new person is taken, sometimes crying and screaming, sometimes silent, ready for whatever is to come. Two or three new people arrive, just as afraid as the rest. Some are taken out and come back with gashes and burns and wounds uglier than anything you’d seen while you were shadowing at the hospital. With each person that comes and goes, your resolve strengthens. Slowly, you think of something. You don’t have a very solid plan, but you wait for the right moment anyways. If you have to kill to set yourself and these people free, you will.

One day, you’re woken from your sleep by shouting coming from behind the locked door. Some sort of disturbance. This - this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. Moving as quickly as you can manage and trying to signal the others that it’s time, they all get up, ready to help you. You don’t know how you did it, but you motivated some of them to try to help you. The knife is in your hand. You’re behind the door. Once again, you’re waiting, but only for a little bit longer.

Locks are clicking up and you hear more shouting, but you try to focus. The people in the rest of the room shift nervously and you try to still your shaking hand. It’s now or never. You can’t depend on the Neos to save you, so you have to try for yourself. The shouting becomes more coherent as the door finally flies open, nearly hitting you. Side-stepping it slightly, the man who had entered the room practically growls. A gun is in his hand. Some of the others who aren’t frozen in fear begin to cry out loudly from the other side of the room, the first part of your plan. His attention is drawn to them, his next words a bark of anger. “Where the hell is that Neo bitch?”

Now. You lunge forward, but don’t notice the other shadow emerging from behind him in the doorway. The knife is about to plunge into his neck, but a strong hand stops you. A familiar voice. “There’s no need for that.”

The Blue Vein turns, locking eyes with the man who had stopped you. A moment later, a gunshot deafens you and the Blue Vein is crumpling to the ground, howling in pain. Some of the other captives scream, real fear this time. A bullet wound clean through both his hand and thigh. He drops his own gun and clutches at his wounds.

You can’t believe your eyes. Yuta stands in front of you, a pistol in his hand, pointed at the man on the ground. He’s alive. He’s alive. You want to cry and hug him and thank him all at the same time. You settle for just saying his name. “Yuta…”

He smiles and tilts his head towards you, wincing at what you believe is a head wound, indicated by the bandage wrapped around his forehead. “You should get them out of here. None of you want to see this.”

You swallow hard. “Thank you.”

When you turn towards the door to peer out, you’re face to face with Ten, Kun, and Yangyang, more of the Neos. Managing a quick smile, you usher the people out of the room, moving around the figure of the Blue Vein on the floor in pain and Yuta standing over him, steady hand pointing his gun at the other man’s forehead. Once everyone is out, you stay turned around, watching as the others guide them out. With all your sensibilities, you try not to think about the life leaving the man on the ground as you hear another gunshot from behind you. If you’ve learned one thing while trapped here, it’s that people can be vile. Vile enough that you could possibly forgive Yuta for pulling that trigger.

You feel a hand on your shoulder a few moments later and you’re being spun around, familiar arms embracing you. You breathe him in, a scent so freeing and warm compared to what you’ve been experiencing for the last few days. A sob finally escapes you and his shirt becomes wet with your tears. “I thought you were dead,” you cry, your sounds muffled by his chest, “I really thought you were dead.”

“If I was that easy to kill, I would’ve been dead years ago,” he murmurs, stroking your hair softly. “It did take a hell of a lot of convincing to get Kun to let me come with this time, though. I got lucky compared to Doyoung and Taeyong.”

You pull away slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. “Are they…?”

“They’re alive, just in bad shape. We could really use you back with us.” He moves to cup your cheek with his hand, frowning at the small cuts and dirt on your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive. You’re alive. I’m okay.” You sniffle, reaching up to try to wipe away your tears. “Yuta, those people… they’ve been here for so long. I’m so glad you came to get us.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.” Despite the dirt on your face and the tears smudging it, he leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly. He pulls away when more gunshots sound from the opposite direction the others had gone. He takes your hand, pulling you along. “We should go.” You watch the place your hands are connected, feeling like you know him more than ever.

“Why did you stop me?” You ask, trying to keep pace with him. “I could have killed him. I was ready to do it.”

“I know that’s not something you want. You’re different from us. You’re not ready to kill. You don’t want to kill.” His tone shifts into something more mournful. “I’m sorry. For everything. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

“I’m glad I’m here.”

He stops moving, turning to you slowly, eyebrows furrowed and a confused look on his face. “What?”

“I’m glad I’m here. Yuta, I…” you stop, trying to think carefully about what you’re about to say. “I understand now. Those people will be able to live again because you guys are here. Because you came for me, for us. I might not be able to go back to school again, to ever become a full-fledged doctor, but,” you pause, looking him right in the eyes, “I understand now. And I want to help. It wasn’t the wrong place at the wrong time. I want to stay with the Neos. I want to stay with you.”

“This,” he breathes out, “this isn’t something you can take back. You know that, right?”

“I know. I still want to stay.” You nod firmly, looking him in the eyes. To save people like Sooyoung, to use the skills you’ve acquired, to do something to fight the darkness in the city. You’ll do it for that. You’ll do it for all of them, for Mark’s dad, for Taeyong’s mom, for Hansol, whom you’d never met. You’d do it for Yuta, who is now close to your heart.

With that unbreakable promise that you swear to fulfill, you squeeze his hand tight. He gives you a small smile, full of hope at the future he knows you’re gaining and with a slight tinge of sadness at the future he knows you’re losing, and pulls you forward with him.

#yuta angst #yuta smut #neowritingsnet #nct angst #nct smut #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #if you made it through all of this #thank you for reading!!#i hope you enjoyed #leave feedback if you have anything to say!!! i always appreciate it :))#this is v different from anything i've written before so i hope it turned out well #nct fluff #yuta fluff #nct 127 fluff

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mercurial-madhouse · 3 years

Note

Hi my darling 💙 thank you for reblogging so I could ask you ALL the questions 😘 jk I wouldn’t do that (Unlike somebodyyyy 😒) I did really want to ask you 18 tho but you’re a goose butt 🙃 💙 2 💙 5 💙 6 💙 7 💙 12 🔥 29 - flame/fire/flicker ✨ 30 xx z

Thankfully you didn’t actually ask 18, so this goose butt won’t actually answer it.😏. I’m in the mood to go out of order, so here goes!

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29. Send me a word. If it’s in your WIPs, include the sentence and a short summary of the fic. FLAME/FIRE/FLICKER

The world plunges into a black so impenetrable that the sudden absence of light flares and imprints like an old photo into the back of Harry’s eyelids in the outline of a firebrand lad.

This is from Love After the End of the World. It’s my post-apocalyptic Larry/Ziam soulmates fic.

Armed with insider knowledge and the ghosts of their pasts, Louis and Zayn, two rebel scavengers, are on a mission that’s taking every skill they’ve got just to stay alive. Things get complicated when a recon mission leads them to another group of survivors, Harry, Niall, and Liam, on a mission of their own, and all of a sudden Soulmates are another thing added to the list of: What More Could Go Wrong.

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6. If you’re really concentrating, how many words can you write in a day?

My top writing day was just over 18k.

I didn’t actually do a daily word count for Three Days In February, but I’m assuming it was consistently high, given the math of 176k divided into about 45 days? I’m a writer, hopefully a mathlete out there can figure that one out for me.

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30. Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

Welp, the next longest fic I see in my future is actually an ABO prompt that the absolutely incredible utterly insane out of the world @theisolatedlily came up with. It was on the ABOfest prompt list but she admits it was with me in mind and it’s definitely hiding out in the wings! Here’s the prompt:

Male!O are extremely rare, most have been eradicated due to their magical abilities which led alphas to envy them and declare civil war. A few hundred years have passed. Male!O are practically extinct. Louis is a late bloomer, waiting to present as a beta... things don’t go as expected. Dystopian/Action/Thriller/Supernatural.

So depending on how my first ABO fic goes to write, this one is definitely the longest one I have waiting in the wings!

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2. Do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? If so, what do you like about them?

I’m still in my first year of writing in the fandom, but I have participated in two fests already, am in the process of the BB fest, I’ve signed up for one of the ABO fests, and I’m running the clicheficfest with two other lovely souls! It’s fun working towards a common goal with others, seeing ideas, working from prompts or just from the fest idea. The time pressure is nice too. I’ve written an essay in 30 minutes before class once so I’ll definitely say I’m a serial procrastinator, so having fest deadlines DOES help.

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7. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

Alright, anyone who reads this answer and has read any of my works is going to laugh so hard, so please hold on to your chairs. Zanni, you asked this one on purpose. :P

Feelz™️

Always and forever. The end.

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12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

The first one that comes to mind is ABO. In most cases if I can take a trope and twist it into something fun with action and adventure and high stakes, it’s somewhere on my list. I haven’t done that one yet so I’d love to see what I can do with that world/trope.

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5. What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

To be honest, it’s one that’s distraction-free. I can write pretty much anywhere as long as I can put on headphones and not have one eye constantly on which roomie or puppy is going to knock my attention first. Just tuck me in a little gremlin-hole and leave some bread and tea and I’m set. I’m the easiest creature ever to care for.

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Have any questions about my fics or writing? I’m all ears!

#ask response #writing ask meme #zanni is awesome

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anneshirlxy · 4 years

Text

AWAE Fic Recs- Full List

Hi! Here is the full list of all the fics I recommend. I will post a more organized way to look at it later tonight, but for now, here are all the fics! On here you can find the author, rating, length (word count and chapter) and a summary directly from ao3. These fics are in no particular order, and everything in italics is my dumb comments! Also, I am hopefully going to keep updating this so please send me fic recs!

Rating Key- G: General Audience, T: Teen and up, M: Mature

1. Still He Offers the Sea Shell By: Chash (@ponyregrets) Rating: T Length: 5.1k- 1/1

Summary: Gilbert Blythe is back from his semester abroad, and he wants to meet this Anne Shirley he's heard so much about.

First fic I ever read. A classic modern au (book verse)

2.Strangely Are Our Souls Constructed By: Fandom_freakout, vocallywritten Rating: G Length: 8k-2/2

Summary: In a desperate attempt to get Charlie Sloane to leave her alone, Anne posts a notice of her own. Or,Anne and Gilbert abuse the Take Notice board, much to the amusement, and frustration of the people around them.

Best take notice fic ever! Anne and Gilbert get into a take notice board battle and at first, it’s snarky and sarcastic, but then they start complementing each other and it’s beautiful.

3.say my name, don't ever stop By: anbethmarie Rating: G Length: 13.5k-5/5

Summary: The gossip in Avonlea is insidious, making Gilbert think it's a good idea to initiate a fake courtship of Anne. Anne makes him promise it won't affect their relationship (because, obviously, they're just friends).Plot twist: it affects their relationship.

Also has a sequel you can read it Here

4.Mistletoe Madness By: avonleaace Rating: G Length: 3k- 1/1

Summary: To bring a bit of fun to the classroom on Christmas Eve, Miss Stacey hangs up some mistletoe. Anne and Gilbert have a bet that Gilbert can make it through the day without getting kissed. Will he succeed? cuteness ensues

5.The Secret of Distance By: Lil_Readhead (@royalcordelia) Rating: T Length: 26k- 7/?

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn't easy, but they're more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

I consider this fic canon. This is season 4.

6.Avonlea's Summer of 1880 Great Game of Capture the Flag! By: christah88 (@christah88) Rating: G Length: 14k- 1/1

Summary: Moody Spurgeon has gathered all the boys in Avonlea between 12 and 18 at the softball diamond for a game of capture the flag. Subterfuge, reconnaissance, undercover missions, and just a dash of chicken-coop-climbing combine to make this a game they will not soon forget. Why? Because Anne Shirley-Cuthbert wants to play, of course, and she demands that the rest of the girls be allowed to play, too.

This one reads like it could be a part of the show. There is also a prequel that you can read Here

7.Limerence By: Ephemeral_Joy (@lydias--stiles) Rating: G Length: 12k- 2/2

Summary: Limerence (n) - The state of being infatuated with another person. Gilbert and Anne featuring paint, photography, mutual staring, glitter and a very supportive Diana Barry

8.truth or dare By: thearkdelinquents Rating: NR Length: 7k-1/1

Summary: “Anne, truth or dare?” Josie smirked at Anne, a devious glint in her eye. Lifting her chin and looking Josie in the eye, Anne chose, “Dare.” She could take whatever Josie had to throw at her.The smirk on Josie’s face grew larger and Anne was sure she had picked the wrong thing. Without breaking eye contact or even taking a second the think about it, Josie said, “I dare you to go behind that door and kiss Gilbert Blythe. On the lips.”

I love the show New Girl with all my heart so I had to put this one.

9.When the Sun Begins to Fall By: megs368 (@onedayiwillflyfree) Rating: G Length: 76k- 13/14

Summary: "Long time no see Carrots."After nine months of studying at The Sorbonne, Gilbert Blythe felt that he was ready for his upcoming graduation and wedding. That is until his brother arrives, informing him his childhood best friend is gravely ill.

this fic hurts you

10.wishful thinking (mindless dreaming)By: bruadarxch (@rootedbutfl0wing) Rating: G Length: 12k- 5/5

Summary: “She didn’t mean to, but a comment led to a friend of a friend’s profile and then she sees it. She sees him. Gilbert Blythe. Her old archnemesis turned friend turned... nothing.” Anne is bored for the first time in her life and falls down the Instagram rabbit hole. She finds a familiar face.

Anne finds Gilbert’s Instagram and they end up reconnecting at college and then drama ensues. It’s really cute then it gets kinda sad and angsty and then it’s really cute again. I love it.

11.wonderstruck By: bruadarxch ( @rootedbutfl0wing) Rating: G Length: 14k-4/4

Summary: Delphine Lacroix raves about Miss Shirley and her crazy lessons. Her uncle Gilbert thinks his niece surely has an overactive imagination, but one day he has to pick her up from school and a certain redhead covered in paint from head to toe crashes into him. OR: Gilbert Blythe puts his foot in it when he meets Anne in every universe. Luckily for him, she didn't have any heavy objects around in this one.

Modern au where Anne is Dellies teacher and Gilbert fall head over heels in love with her. Soooo cute, I love. Also, cue Diana berry being the best roommate ever.

12.Imagining Something Worthwhile By: remylebae (@remylebub) Rating: T Length: 148k-3l/36

Summary: “Because when you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worthwhile”- Anne of Green Gables.

Anne is struggling through her mid-twenties, living with her two best friends from high school and starting a new job as an eighth grade English teacher. Just as she's starting to figure this whole teaching thing out, she finds an unexpected someone thrust back into her life.

This is the boy I spent 7 hours reading. It’s a modern au where Anne is a struggling teacher and Gilbert is a struggling med student and they fall back in love. Honestly, the best part of the fic is the best friend relationship between Cole, Anne, and Diana. It’s some pretty wholesome and domestic stuff.

13.You're such a big mess (And I love you) By: gayrefrain (@gayrefrain) Rating: T Length: 6k-1/1

Summary: Anne and Jerry get arrested.

This is one of the first fics I ever read and I loved it so much I read it 2 more times. Modern au where Anne and Jerry get arrested, they bicker like siblings and Gilbert is so worried for her!!! It’s a pre-established relationship and it’s so fluffy and cute ahh. An all-time fave.

14.five days of Christmas By: thearkdelinquents Rating: N/R Length: 4k-1/1

Summary: SHIRBERT SECRET SANTA!!!!

15.Drive Me Crazy By: serendipitous_rambles(@carrotsofavonlea) Rating: G

Length: 18k-15/15

Summary: Anne Shirley Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe are next door neighbours, but they despise each other. It didn't used to always be this way, in fact at one time they were best friends. But things change following a personal tragedy for Gilbert, and by high school the two are practically strangers. Anne's life seemed to be going well: she was in charge of organising the school Centennial dance, she was accepted into college, and she was dating one of the most handsome boys in school: Roy Gardner. Only he breaks up with her mere weeks before the dance. When Gilbert's girlfriend Winifred also breaks up with him, Anne comes up with a crazy scheme to get their ex's back: pretend to date to make them jealous. Simple right? If only they don't kill each other first...

The modern fake dating au of your dreams. Includes an iconic scene from 10 things I hate about you.

16.ours are the moments I play in the dark / wild and fluorescent / come home to my heart By: anbethmarie Rating: T Length: 8k-3/3

Summary: Avonlea, August 1914 – England declares war on Germany. Anne Shirley shows up rain-drenched on Gilbert Blythe’s doorstep and learns her fiancé is due to leave for the Western front in a week’s time.All Anne wanted was to have the memory of a few quiet moments alone with Gilbert. The fact that she would get wet through on the way to his house and have to wear his shirt while waiting for her clothes to dry did not enter into her calculations.

This one is basically an episode of a drama tv show and I’m not complaining. Anne ends up pregnant with Gilbert’s baby and then he goes to war and they lose touch and he doesn’t know he has a child. It’s a whole thing. It’s mostly angst but reunions are chef's kiss (especially ones when they find out their father).

17.Trippingly, on the tongue By: meals Rating:G Length: 8k-1/1

Summary: Gilbert goes to Paris, Anne goes to Queens, and years later they both return to Avonlea and meet again. They should be older and wiser, but when neither of ever admits to their mistakes and misunderstandings, will they ever sort themselves out?

Such a good season three “what if” fic. I’ve read it so many times and I can’t get tired of it.

18.shy daydreams & stardust By: Lil_Redhead (@royalcordelia) Rating: G Length: 16k-3/3

Summary: She can't help how he makes her magic spiral out of control whenever he's around, but maybe she can help him when his own abilities bloom out of nowhere like a lily pad in a teacup. Magic AU!

Anne and Gilbert are both magic and she teaches him about his powers. Very cute!

19.The Post-Exam Ritual of Merriment and Ridiculousness By: wanderinginthewoods Rating: G Length: 2k-1/1

Summary: Anne, still slightly tipsy, tries to focus as she runs after Gilbert to give him a piece of her mind--but that's not the easiest thing to do when she can barely get her own thoughts in order.

The characterization of Anne drunk is so good and the funniest thing

20.I Belong to You By: hoddypeak (@shirbertndisney) Rating: T Length: 30k-12/?

Summary: Arranged marriage AU. Anne always wanted to have her own love story, but not one that's decided for her. She doesn't want to fall in love with Gilbert, but after being thrown into many awkward situations with him, the walls around her begin to tumble down. It certainly isn't an easy ride for either of them.

21.Little White Lies… By: writingshirbert Rating: G Length: 16k-10/?

Summary: When Anne agrees to doing Gilbert a favor, she has no idea what she's getting herself into...

A modern fake dating au where Anne and Gilbert are best friends and college roommates that have to pretend to date. Mostly angst so far, but well written. Also, Gilbert seems like a bit of a douche but we will look past that.

22.All my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling By: moonlightconstellations (@leiaslightsaber) Rating: T Length: 3k-1/1

Summary: Anne realizes she's in love with Gilbert. In typical Anne fashion, she reacts by yelling.

I just really love Anne yelling at Gilbert

23.Anne of Hogwarts By: serendipitous_rambles (@carrotsofavonlea) Rating: G Length: 24k- 14/14

Summary: Muggleborn Anne couldn't believe her luck when at 11 she is adopted by the Cuthberts, who introduce her to the world of magic and Hogwarts.Her wild imagination gets her into trouble more often than not, but she doesn't let that stop her. She sparks up an academic rivalry with classmate Gilbert Blythe, and finds a kindred spirit in Diana Barry.However it's not all smooth sailing, with trials and tribulations throughout the years as Anne seeks to discover everything Hogwarts has to offer. It may not always be easy, but life at Hogwarts becomes the greatest adventure of Anne's life.

As a potterhead I am required to put one of the best Harry Potter x AWAE fics on here. Also the only one that (in my opinion) gets the sorting right (gryffindor!Anne, Hufflepuff!Gilbert).

24.This Home is Vast By: Lil_Redhead (@royalcordeila) Rating: G Length: 6k-1/1

Summary: Delphine Lacroix wants to write a tale of adventure and romance, so naturally she writes the story of how Uncle Gil and Aunt Anne fell in love.

This one is so creative! Fics starring Dellie? Sign me up

25.i picture it, soft, and i ache By: boos (@boosfic) Rating: G Length: 12k-1/1

Summary: Anne and Gilbert accidentally end up snowed in at Green Gables

Pure and perfect fluff

26.the world is brighter than the sun (now that you're here) By: blujamas (@kyleslei) Rating: G Length: 12k-1/1

Summary: Long-lost family offers Anne Shirley-Cuthbert a chance at education in a prestigious university across the sea. Before she can go, however, there is one last loose end to tie up: Gilbert Blythe.

27.more myself than I am (whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same) By: anbethmarie Rating: G Length: 6k- 2/2

Summary: Anne and Gilbert have not seen each other since the fateful night of the Queen's entrance exams. She assumes he must by now be engaged to Winifred. He still assumes her drunken babbling meant she doesn't care. A chance encounter forces them to revise the truth of these assumptions.

28.a ridge of lighted heath By: peterstank (@peter-stank) Rating: T Length: 3k-1/1

Summary: He’d overheard her talking once with Diana Barry. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but it couldn’t be helped given their proximity. He’d heard it, the bride of adventure, the wife of nature. And how fitting is it that she who has chosen nature as her most fitting suitor is more beautiful than any earthly thing he’s ever known? The freckles on her face are fit to rival all the stars in the sky. Her eyes are oceans overflowing, they are rippling streams and shining waters. She could torch him with her hair and he would happily turn to ashes, to be the Earth, to be loved by her just once.

29.One Iced Green Tea Latte for Ann By: rosesonraindrops Rating: G Length: 6k-2/2

Summary: Anne Shirley Cuthbert lives for three things: her family, Diana Barry, and Iced Green Tea Lattes. However, Gilbert Blythe, the barista at Anne and Diana's favorite coffee shop, never seems to spell her name correctly, no matter how many times she's told him the right way to spell it. Or, Diana and Anne get coffee, and Gilbert tries his very best to charm Anne with his latte-making skills.

30,but when he walks in i am loved - i am loved By: nosecoffee (@nose-coffee) Rating: T Length: 24k- 1/1

Summary:“Marry me.” Anne drops a plate. She barely reacts to that - Marilla can berate her later, for now Anne has a very good reason to have broken her expensive china. She whirls on him. Gilbert’s not kneeling or anything. He's just standing there, in her kitchen doorway, with a painfully earnest look on his face. “Are you kidding?” She says, laughing nervously. He shakes his head.

Fun story: I once spent hours looking for this fic and almost started crying when I didn’t think I could find it. So you know it’s good.

31. from friends to this (you're the one i want) By: cressisaqueen (@cressisaqueen) Rating: T Length: 4k- 1/1

Summary: new message from 1 (489) 5987 - 2351

1 (489) 5987 - 2351 [3:29 pm]: hey, it's gilbert blythe from professor stacy's class

GiLbErT bLyThE [3:30 pm]: when should we meet up to work on the project?

A fic told entirely through text messages! Really creative and good. Paper Rings is my favorite Taylor Swift song, so that also helps. It also has a sequel where Anne and Gilbert get married that you can read Here

32.Anne of Nova Scotia By: coffee666 (@frappuccinio) Rating: G Length: 32k- 5/?

Summary: In an alternate life, neither Anne nor Gilbert were orphaned. Yet, they still found their way to one another.

I’ve never seen a tag better than “I’m not claiming to know how boats work”

33.If the Sea Should Part By: Lil_Redhead (@royalcordelia) Rating: G Length: 35k-6/6

Summary: Anne finds herself caught up in whirl of romance and adventure after rescuing Dr. Gilbert Blythe from the sea during a storm. She should let him go, but when she finds out Billy Andrews is plotting to take Gilbert's life and estate, she realizes there's nothing that can keep her from protecting him.

34.charity (who is helping who?) By: antspaul Rating: T Length: 10k- 1/1

Summary: AU in which Anne is a little more poor but just as vivacious while Gilbert is a lot more wealthy and a little more cowardly.

Kind of a sugar daddy au, but not really. Told through letters which is really cool.

35.i found my voice (in her sweet melodies) By: Lil_Redhead (@royalcordelia) Rating: G Length: 2k- 1/1

Summary: Christmas with Gilbert has never been traditional, but it always manages to steal Anne's breath away.

36.Welcome to Toronto By: simonsjumpers Rating: G Length: 13k- 4/4

Summary: Anne visits Toronto, buys trousers, charms everyone she meets and engages in a book-duel with Gilbert... And Gilbert can't help but, kind-of, accidentally, propose.

A very good awae after season 3 continuation fic. Anne is a complete badass and Gilbert is hopelessly in love with her.

37.it goes on and on By: morebooksplease Rating: G Length: 3k- 1/1

Summary: in which Gilbert lists all the reasons he loves Anne.

38.bless the broken road (that led me straight to you) By: cornerinthepouringrain Rating: G Length: 3k- 1/1

Summary: She said she’s never been to the coast, and he volunteered to take her, because he’s an idiot with no filter and because he selfishly, despicably, wants (needs) all of her firsts to be with him. Or Gilbert Blythe decides to take Anne Shirley on a road trip, and hates himself for it.

ON GOD I love this one shot so much!! It’s just Anne and Gilbert on a road trip. It’s Gilbert POV and my man is whipped. After I read this I immediately read it again I love it!

39.your glow (against the burning embers of my fiery soul) By: abigaylefayth (@pterparkcr) Rating: T Length: 13k- 2/2

Summary: the enemies to lovers fake dating shirbert au nobody asked for

Another really good modern fake dating au!!! This author also wrote one of the best awae twitter aus, that you can read Here

40.Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same By: Ephemeral_Joy (@lydias--stiles) Rating: T Length: 1k- 1/1

Summary: Look, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert wasn't heartbroken. She was, for like a day, but then she had mustered all the power a Marilla glare could contain and got over it. Did she still love Gilbert? Sure. But alas, she was a summer storm, and he a winter sun. In which Anne tries to move on, but a certain hazel eyed boy won't let her.

41.the road not taken By: melissa13 (@annesurelyblythe) Rating: G Length: 2k-1/1

Summary: Years after the events of Season 3, a chance encounter in a bookstore brings Gilbert face-to-face with an old flame causing him to reflect on his new marriage. Features Anne and Gilbert being adorable newlyweds.

Winnies a darling and Gilbert is such a proud husband. When Winfred says “love looks good on you Blythe” l lose my mind

42.Maybe The Universe Has Other Plans By: Cones_McMurphy Rating: G Length: 2k- 1/1

Summary: Four times Gilbert Blythe tries to propose to Anne Shirley and fails, and the one time he doesn't try and succeed

This one is actually green gables fables which is a modern au told through vlogs and social media that you can watch on YouTube right now! Anyway, even though it’s not Anne with an e it’s just Gilbert trying to propose to Anne and it’s very cute!

43.be still my foolish heart (don't ruin this on me) By: theatrythms (@fairrobb, @smearclouds) Rating: G Length: 5k- 1/1

Summary: (The idea was always, always, always a bad one, but it sounded so romantical, so whimsical; to throw a stunt for all of her friends and get to spend time with Gilbert in the process.) Or; fake-dating, and the aftermath.

44.one look in your eyes and i found my favourite colour By: simonsjumper Rating: G Length: 5k- 3/?

Summary: au where everyone can only see in black and white until a moment between them and their soulmate triggers colour gradually appearing into both of their worlds (and yes, it happens during dance practice)

45.Of Tongue and Pen By: piperholmes Rating: G Length: 5k- 2/2

Summary: When Gilbert returns Anne’s pen, he is reminded of what’s important and what it means to live a passionate life. He finally understands he needs to ask the right questions. Now featuring an epilogue!

46.this, and my heart beside By: fruitwhirl (@ametroepya) Rating: G Length: 6k- 1/2

Summary: It’s three months in Toronto before she runs into him. Or rather, he runs into her. Well, okay, there is very little running involved at all.

Gilbert and Anne becoming friends in Toronto together!

47.Those With Wit and Learning Will Always Find Their Kind(red spirits)

By: WideScopeofImagination Rating: G Length: 126k- 5/7

Summary: Anne Shirley thinks its a dream beyond her wildest imagination come true when she learns she's a witch and can attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.There are still challenges, of course.Or: How Anne has to keep solving magical disasters with muggle common sense, and finds her kindred spirits along the way

48.all of the dreams that get harder, all of the things that I offer you By: anbethmarie Rating: G Length: 7k-3/3

Summary: Anne receives proposals of marriage from various and undesirable quarters. Gilbert Blythe naturally happens to stumble upon her immediately afterwards every time.

49.Time and Tide By: jacksparrow589 (@js589) Rating: G-M Length: 35k- 8 works

Summary: The Modern AU that nobody wanted and nobody asked for that just keeps on spawning new tales.

This is a series of 8 works (all fantastic) so i just put the entire thing here. Modern au set in college. Check the author's recommended reading order!

50.a rose amongst thorns By: not_so_weary_pilgrim Rating: G Length: 7k-3/3

Summary: Anne swallows, so hard that it hurts. His head is bent over her hand, and she suddenly realizes that with all the growing he’s done in the past year or so the top of his head is an uncommon sight for her. In fact, the last time she saw those dark curls from this vantage point was when he bowed after their dance practice at school.She nearly flinches away from memories of that golden afternoon, when Gilbert’s eyes never left hers, when she was only vaguely aware of anyone else being in the room, when he pulled her closer than the dance required but it still wasn’t close enough.

Anne gets hit on the face and doctor gilbert in action!!!! He is way too worried about her but it’s very cute and well written.

51.doctor's visit By: seashel Rating: G Length: 1k-1/1

Summary: turns out, gilbert isn't the only one afraid of needles.

Short modern au where Gilbert takes Anne to the doctors. High key the main reason this fic is on here is because he calls her baby.

52.Takes the Cake By: bookwormforalways (@bookwormforalways) Rating: T Length: 2k-1/1

Summary: Anne and Gilbert, finally happily married, bake a cake to celebrate two months of being married.

53.to look in somebody's eyes, to light up the skies (to open the world and send it reeling) By: lovishq Rating: G Length: 3k-1/1

Summary: Anne Shirley's imaginary friends, fanciful names and women carved out of magic and fairytales are remnants of past lives, and they are all drawn to every Gilbert Blythe like moth to a flame.

Ok, this one is like really cool. It’s this whole idea where Anne and Gilbert keep falling in love in different lifetimes but it’s always tragic until it isn’t. It’s really well written and just cool.

54.I don't have a choice (but I'd still choose you) By: writergirl8 Rating: T Length: 6k-1/1

Summary: Anne knows now what it feels like to have someone looking at you like you are the most beautiful thing in the world.

I had to shorten the summary because its just so long, but basically this is a beautifully written fic that's just shirbert being fluff after season 3

55.everything you wanted, everything you don't By: theystayalive Rating: G Length: 2k-1/1

Summary: And finally, when everything in his life quieted for just a moment, his heart molded his million thoughts into one word: Anne. In which Gilbert finds his way home.

56.that's the kindof love (i've been dreaming of) By: metsuryuogi (@natsujpg) Rating: G Length: 12k-1/1

Summary: In which Anne and Gilbert spend their first year together, and apart.

A really cute post season three fic! It also has a sequel that you can read Here

57.A Very Tragic, Romantical Secret (Understanding of a Pre-) Engagement By: christah8 Rating: G Length: 5k, 1/1

Summary: Post 3x08 AU where Gilbert avoids Anne for the summer and attends Queens College in the fall.

It's got a scavenger hunt and they are just so cute!

58.A Christmas gift By: writingshirbert Rating: G Length: 2k-1/1

Summary: Gilbert comes home for Christmas. Set after season 3.

59.The reality of baking Christmas cookies By: writingshirbert Rating: G Length: 3k-1/1

Summary: Anne really wants to win the neighbourhood competition over who has the best Christmas decorations, however her neighbour is making it really hard for her to do so.

60.the one person who makes me feel like i can take a fucking breath ( i can't have without completely destroying you ) By: softmullen Rating: NR Length: 5k-1/1

Summary: IF THERE WAS ONE thing you needed to know about the cuthbert-baynard family, it was that the two and only children did not get along. and it wasn't the 'not getting along' like constantly arguing, no, they just didn't speak. it was like they absolutely hated each other and no one quite knew why. especially gilbert blythe, who had been best friends with jerry since before he could remember. it's always just been the two of them, until jerry's father remarried, moving them three streets down in a rather large house.

An “Edge of 17” au. Anne and Jerry being siblings- 10/10

61,you're already home where you feel loved By: c19 Rating: G Length: 11k-1/1

Summary: Soulmate marks were only for special people, everyone kept telling them, but Anne and Gilbert both felt decidedly unspecial. Soulmate AU where the soulmate part isn't all that important.

62.The Language of My Unwavering Heart By: bravebatgirl (@bravebatgorl) Rating: T Length: 70k- 7/15

Summary:Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is attending college, exploring the excitement of entering womanhood beside her friends, and has even achieved a not-so-tragical romance. Everything is finally settling into place for the bride of adventure, but there are others still in dire straits. How is it that so much pain can be caused in a world about to turn a new century?

63.I'll See You in the Orchard By: wanderinginthewoods Rating: T Length: 20k-3/3

Summary: An alternate final, where Gilbert has to leave for Toronto later on, and doesn't bump into Diana. Meanwhile Anne--after meeting Winifred--finds herself on a spontaneous journey to Avonlea to confront him for not telling her about his lack of engagement--amongst other things.

64.The Many Faces of Gilbert Blythe By: Purple_Slippers_18 Rating: T Length: 50k-10/10

Summary: Anne was looking forward to meeting Avonlea's new schoolmaster, and if she could only stop herself from being distracted by the memory of a tall, dark, handsome stranger that she knows she'll never meet again, she was sure she would make an excellent impression on the new teacher, no matter what Minnie May had to say

65.Into the Sun By: goldinavonlea (@goldinavonlea) Rating: T Length: 5k-1/1

Summary: Summer had arrived in Avonlea. In all truth, summer had arrived in Avonlea several weeks earlier, but the inclement internal weather of Anne’s life of late had rendered the view rather cloudy from her window for a while there, and so perhaps it was better to say that summer had arrived—finally—in Anne. And what a summer it was. Or, Anne and Gilbert spend 5000 words ignoring all rules of Victorian propriety in favour of becoming the human embodiments of warm syrup.

Pure fluff, and written so well!

66.life is momentous, indeed By: bruadarxch (@rootedbutfl0wing) Rating: G Length: 2k-1/1

Summary: "She turns around trying to wipe off her tears and there he is, galloping down Lovers’ Lane in his horse, like a brooding hero in a romance novel. Bastard."Anne mopes and Gilbert finally does what he has to do.

67.something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue By: lxstdreams Rating: NR Length: 1k-1/1

Summary: how to propose to someone the moody spurgeon style(ruby x moody)

One of the very few not shirbert centric fics, but sooo cute!

68.oh i swear to you (i'll be there for you) By: cornerinthepouringrain Rating: T Length: 9k- 1/1

Summary: They sort of become a family, her and Jerry and Ruby and Gilbert (after she forgave him for the thing they don’t speak about), and they were annoying little shits who ate all her food and trashed her apartment, but... she was happy. It was a slow realization, one that didn’t really strike her until she was sitting on the floor in her pajamas, watching Ruby smack Jerry repeatedly after catching the boy stealing her Monopoly money as Gilbert rolled around in tears clutching his stomach.

Friends Au! I just love it so much

69.you don't have to say nothing - you don't have to say you're mine By: goddessbeltane Rating: M (warning: rape/non-con) Length: 27k-1/1

Summary: I hate this asshole. Asshole! The nerve! Anne rose from her chair abruptly, striding over to the counter to meet an obviously frightened Gilbert – though she couldn’t blame him for being scared, the last time she looked at him like that was about five seconds before he was violently doused - before folding her arms across her chest. “And just what would you know about soulmates, Blythe?”

The Office Au! If you can't tell, I love sitcom aus. Mentions of rape (not graphic)

70.If You're Wondering If I Want You To By: teal_always Rating: T Length: 16k-1/1

Summary: Princess Cordelia cordially invites Princess Delphine to join her on the playground to witness Sir Gilbert's courting of Princess Cordelia's mother, Queen Anne. Or Gilbert Blythe will piss off Anne Shirley-Cuthbert upon meeting her in any and all universes.

Single parent au! Just so good!

71.A Little Crazy By: YumKiwiDelicious Rating: NR Length: 3k-1/1

Summary: They’re eight and she’s got the knobbiest knees Gilbert has ever seen. || 5 times Anne tells Gilbert she loves him +1 time he actually takes her seriously||

72. we can leave the christmas lights up till januaryBy: Alice_Prongs Rating: T Length: 17k-3/3

Summary: the boys are throwing a christmas party before they leave for the holidays. that's fine. it's fine, really. all anne needs to do is stay sober throughout it and nothing will go wrong. like, you know, blurting out all of her feelings for gilbert blythe in front of him.

Modern + Christmas + Angst = a fantastic fic! (also sequel Here)

73.silence is the blood whose flesh is singing By: ashleykay Rating: NR Length: 4k-1/1

Summary: Anne Shirley does not believe in soulmates. And she will not be swayed otherwise. She believes only in love freely given. Soulmate AU. Timers.

74.The 10 Rules of Anne and Gilbert's Fake Relationship By: anexistence Rating: G Length: 18k-4/11

Summary: She’s kissing Gilbert Blythe, who is surprisingly eagerly kissing her back. Ew, she’s kissing Gilbert Blythe. Anne pulls away, and masks her horror by smiling sweetly up at him. He has that warm yet bemused look on his face. “Hey, there” he smirks, and Anne wishes she could just wipe the smirk away. “A favour for a favour,” she whispers. “You owe me some brownies, Carrots.”

75.thin ice By: antspaul Rating: T (warning- eating disorder) Length: 30k-7/7

Summary: "She still has a long way to go. Frustration builds in her throat and she wishes she could eat what she wanted and still stay slim and beautiful and perfect like Anne or Ruby. But things are the way things are. Nothing can be done about that. Diana will be beautiful. She just has to stay in control." When her world seems to be falling apart at the seams, Diana Barry finds power in the strict regulation of food. At the same time, her friendship with the Cuthbert's farm boy grows into more than she could have expected. And so she spirals.

The other not shirbert centric fic (but they are mentioned). Whether or not you like Diana x Jerry it's still really interesting to see a fic from Diana's perspective. Mentions of eating disorders are VERY graphic. Stay safe kids. There's also an (uncompleted) sequel Here

76.All This Time, I Was Waiting For You By: MeggieB Rating: M Length: 2k-1/1

Summary: Five Times Gilbert Blythe says "Carrots"

Pure fluff! Includes young shirbert and married shirbert!

77.Dream a Little Dream of Me By: PhoebeDillard (@gilbvrtblythe) Rating: G Length: 8k-1/1

Summary: Anne Shirley had been fascinated by the very idea of a dream her entire life. So imagine her surprise when she finally has hers and in it appears a prince that looks suspiciously similar to Gilbert Blythe. A Soulmate AU where everyone has one dream their entire life, and in it they see the face of their true love.

78.real or not real By: thearkdelinquents Rating: NR Length: 11k-1/1

Summary: a fake dating fic but it's basically just a shirbert To All The Boys I Loved Before au.

79.Flowers in His Heart By: Ephemeral_Joy (@lydias--stiles) Rating: G Length: 1k-1/1

Summary: ‘Don’t be,’ he said, shaking him head, ‘I was dreaming.’ Anne carefully smiled, placing her chin on her palm. ‘About?’ Gilbert paused for a moment. How could he reply to that? (“I dreamt about pinning you against the grass and kissing you”, wasn’t exactly an acceptable answer.) Or, he weighed the option, he could work with it. (or: Gilbert and Anne hang out and they definitely do not like each other. At all.)

80.Strawberry Tarts By: carrotsblythe Rating: G Length: 3k-1/1

Summary: Anne refuses to take part in another game of Spin the Bottle. And naturally, so does Gilbert.

81.Pretty Injuries By: novahainn Rating: G (warning: PTSD, child abuse) Length: 5k-1/1

Summary: Gilbert spent his childhood covered in flowers. Anne spent her childhood covered in some injury or other. Their meeting involves both. Soulmate AU where flowers appear on a person's soulmate when the person is injured.

82.From Red to Green With Love Between By: PhoebeDillard (@gilbvrtblythe) Rating: G Length: 7k-1/1

Summary: Gilbert Blythe was born with a tuft of red hair sticking out from amidst his unruly dark curls... until the day it turned green. A Soulmate AU where everyone has a streak of hair that matches the color of their true love.

83.you belong somewhere close to me By: georgiestauffenberg Rating: G (warning: mentions of child abuse) Length: 20k-1/1

Summary: “I know, son. I know. But if you feel what your soulmate feels, it is likely that she feels what you feel.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand? If you are happy, she will be happy, too. Do you think you can be happy for her?” He nodded. “Yes.” He would think happy thoughts every possible moment if he must. AU. Gilbert is one of those rare, lucky souls who has a soulmate.

84. Shirbert One Shot + Drabble Collection By: Lil_Redhead (@royalcordeila) Rating: G-T Length: 43k’

I could have individually put every single fic on this list, but I thought it would be better to put the entire collection. You can find everything you're looking for here. I recommend them all but here are my personal favorites

In the Blue Haze, The Peace, The Storm, She Has Brains Enough for Two , A Sweet Heart Won, Take Notice, Here is the Echo of a Sound I Wanted, things that fall (i, for you), Lifemate,when the sun goes to sleep

85. Time Turns to Amber By: Lil_Redhead (@royalcordeila) Rating: T Length: 42k-7/?

Summary: The line between universes is blurred when Anne Shirley of Green Gables suddenly switches lives with Ann Cuthbert, a university student living in the contemporary world. Suddenly Anne must learn how to navigate the modern world, one which contains a boyfriend, a part time job, and another year of university. Meanwhile, Ann struggles to tackle corsets, farming, and a world without electricity. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but most people can't tell the difference between the redhead they know and the girl who replaced her. Anne (and Ann) have to learn to live as the other and try to find a way back to their own homes.

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