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hier--soir · 5 months

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a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.”

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?”

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.”

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter. “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.”

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours.

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.”

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

#finally am i right?#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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c-h-i-m-es · 2 months

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geto suguru

never in your lifetime would you have imagined that you'd have to call someone to come pick you up. from jail.

how did you even end up behind the bars? the last thing that you have a proper memory from tonight was you and ari, your friend were club hopping.

she finally broke up with her sad excuse of a boyfriend of almost two years. when she called you over at her place, hearing her announce she dumped him was not on even the back of your mind.

to celebrate her break up, you two made plan to drink the night away. it was all fun and games until she started complaining she had to pee right when you were in the way to another club three streets away.

"why didn't you go before we left the club when you've been complaining about your overflowing bladder since the last hour?" you pull her body close to yours, helping her drunk self walk.

"bitch i forgot about it then! i swear it's gonna leak out." she bends down, crossing her legs. you look around the place you currently are, trying to think if there's any public bathroom around. "try not to think about it, 'kay? only few blocks away. please." you try to drag her so she could just continue walking.

"if i stand up, it's not gonna hold." she speaks, biting her lower lips while you don't know if you should laugh or cry at the situation. "want me to get you a bottle or what?"

"where do you think you'll even get a bottle out of nowhere? from a dumpster-" she snapped her head to you, "girl i'm gonna take a piss." you look at her confused as she gets up, tightly sealing her lips together as she jogs to the little gap between two buildings.

without questioning, you follow her, seeing her get behind a dumpster, pulling her little dress up and her undies down. you pause, shocked at what goes on in her mind. you cover your face with your hands, embarrassed of her behavior, turning away from the sight of her squatting down.

you don't know where the cops were but that's basically how you are where you are.

"bitch i told you to hold it." you say as you get up to walk out the cell to call someone. she pouts at you, eyes closed and head resting on the wall behind her, "that was the nicest i felt in ages."

the officer hands you the phone, "you get one call and you only have five minutes." he gives you a look and walks away. you curse at him in your head and call your boyfriend. you pray that he picks up even though it is two in the morning and he is probably sleeping.

a few more rings later, he picks the call making you let out a relieved breath, "hello-" "suguru, come pick me up please."

he takes a second to himself, "y/n? what- are you okay?" you hear his movements, probably him getting out of bed to come to you. "uh huh i'm fine. i'm sorry but can you come pick us up?"

"okay where are you?"

"of course. it's just you and ari?" "yeah it's just us."

"the police station."

one second. two second. and the third second. "what?"

"don't ask me, will you come?"

"of course y/n." you hear him sigh, "gosh you didn't kill someone did you?"

you gasp, "no! why would you think that? just get here quick."

almost an hour later, you finally walk out with geto and ari out of the police station. "this is.. freedom." ari chuckles at herself, spreading her arms and taking in a deep breath.

you scoff at her, "girl, stop tryna be eren yeager." you boyfriend chuckles from besides you, "i cannot believe this even happened."

"it's always trouble with this girl, i swear." you wrap your arms around his, leaning your body on his. your friend looks back at you, "hey at least it's a whole new thing that you got to experience."

"but if you think about it, it your boyfriend- ex's fault you went to jail." you and your friend look at geto then at each other. "think about it."

you both gasp at the same time, "give me my phone." she asks geto who just gives it to her and hands you yours. "whatchu gonna go?"

"that bitch never fails to make everything about himself. i finally broke up with him and when we go out to celebrate, we end up in jail?" she types something in her phone and brings it to her ear.

knowing exactly what's happening, you rest your head on geto's arm while you both watch your friend start cursing at her ex over the phone.

not even two minutes into her screaming into the phone and you two laughing, a cop comes out, "it's literally just night for most people. could you keep it down?"

geto apologises to the cop and you drag your friend to where geto parked his car, "please.. you can do that tomorrow."

she gets in the back seat while you sit in the passenger seat. he drives to ari's place and stops in front of her building. "can you get to your room on your own?" you ask, doubtfully looking at her.

"geez of course i can. all that screaming cleared my mind a little. i can manage. you two go ahead." you blow her a kiss and geto drives away. now that it's only the two of you, you turn your body to him, "you look so hot right now."

he was in his night sweatpant and basic white oversized tee. his usual night wear. and his hair messily tied in a bun. yeah, very hot.

you smile at his words and stare at him, getting lost in the thoughts. there's a comfortable silence between the two of you before he speaks, "i didn't know you could go to jail for pissing in public."

he looks at your for a brief moment, chuckling before he brings his eyes back on the road. "i could say the same about you, pretty."

you gasp, "oh thank god it's not just me. i was thinking they are pranking us when they said they're taking us because ari pissed behind a dumpster."

if something with the cops doesn't make sense idk either lmao

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto x you

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yournameloveskpop · 3 months

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Circus Freak

Paring: Hyunjin x Reader

Style:circus AU, NSFW, Romeo & Juliet, friendship, romance

Warning: toxic family, smut, forbidden romance

Word count: 21.307

In the vibrant heart of a city that never sleeps, where skyscrapers stretched towards the heavens and the buzz of daily life never ceased, there lay a realm where the extraordinary was commonplace, and the word 'impossible' was simply a hurdle to be leaped over. This realm thrived under the colorful expanse of a circus tent, a place where our tale begins to take shape.

Amidst this whirlwind of activity, Y/N, a young woman whose curiosity knew no bounds and whose spirit rebelled against convention, found herself drawn to the magnetic pull of the circus. Her farther, firm in his beliefs and viewing the circus folk as nothing more than societal outliers, frowned upon her fascination. He saw these performers as mere entertainers, far removed from the respectable circles they aspired to be part of. Yet, Y/N looked beyond societal labels, seeing in the circus a celebration of diversity, a testament to the strength found in difference.

"I just don't see what you find so enthralling about it, Y/N," her father sighed one evening, the topic of the circus surfacing yet again at the dinner table.

"It's not just entertainment, dad. It's art. It's people being true to who they are, despite what the world expects of them. It's...it's freedom," Y/N replied, her eyes alight with passion.

Her words hung in the air, challenging the silence of her normally unyielding parents. It was a battle of wills she had fought time and again, yet this time, something shifted. Perhaps it was the unwavering conviction in Y/N's voice, or maybe the simple weariness of constant denial, but eventually, her farther's stern facade cracked.

"Fine," he conceded with a heavy sigh, her decision laced with reluctance. "You may go to the circus. But," he added, a finger raised in warning, "you will be accompanied by guards at all times."

Though the condition dampened her spirits, Y/N's heart soared with the victory. The thought of finally stepping into the world that had captivated her dreams filled her with a joy she could scarcely contain. As Y/N crossed the threshold into the grand tent, her pulse quickened with the thrill of anticipation.

She made her way to a seat right at the front, eager to lose herself entirely in the spectacle that was about to begin. The air buzzed with an electric charge, a blend of excitement and awe tangible among the gathering crowd as the seats filled to capacity. Then, as the lights began to fade, a hush fell over the audience, the collective breath held in suspense, only to be broken by a burst of applause when the ringmaster, known affectionately as Bang Chan, stepped into the limelight to greet the assembled throng.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to a night of wonders," Bang Chan boomed, his voice enveloping the tent in warmth and excitement. "Prepare to be amazed, to laugh, and maybe even to cry as we take you on a journey like no other."

Sitting there, Y/N couldn't help but feel a connection to his words, a sense of belonging that had eluded her elsewhere. The show kicked off with a stunning performance of song and dance, a showcase of the hard work and raw talent of the circus performers.

The lyrics, "Welcome to my home," followed by "Feeling good right now," seemed to speak directly to Y/N, echoing the essence of the circus's inviting spirit. Here, in this space, was a vibrant celebration of diversity and creativity, an open invitation to cast aside one's troubles at the door and immerse oneself in the enchantment of the present moment.

"Doesn't this just make you feel alive?" whispered the person seated next to Y/N, caught up in the magic of the performance.

Y/N turned, offering a smile. "It really does. It's like stepping into another world where anything's possible," she replied, her voice tinged with wonder.

And as the performance unfolded, Y/N felt a deep resonance with the circus's message of unity and the joy of being one's authentic self. As the evening's performances unfolded, each act painted a new stroke of wonder on the canvas of Y/N's imagination. The acrobats twisted and soared through the air with a grace that defied gravity, and the jugglers wove patterns of light and color that dazzled the eyes.

But amidst the array of talents, it was the magic segment that ensnared Y/N's heart. Shrouded in an aura of mystery, the magician, introduced by Bang Chan as Hyunjin, was more than a mere performer; he was a master of illusion and narrative, crafting stories of intrigue and enchantment with his every move.

During a particularly mesmerizing trick, their eyes locked—a moment that seemed to freeze time itself. Y/N felt an unspoken connection, a pull towards the magician that she couldn't rationalize. Hyunjin's gaze was intense, revealing a depth of experiences, his scar a silent narrative of his past struggles, his eyes a window to his soul.

"Seems like the magician has cast a spell on you," the person seated next to Y/N quipped, noticing the intensity of their exchange.

Y/N chuckled nervously, her focus still locked on Hyunjin. "It's like he's weaving magic just for me," she whispered back, enchanted.

Then, as if to prove the shared connection, Hyunjin executed his next trick with a flourish, materializing a bouquet of flowers seemingly from the ether. Striding towards Y/N, he presented them with a confident smirk, his eyes twinkling with a mix of challenge and charm. "For you, mademoiselle," he said, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness that matched his expression.

"Thank you," Y/N responded, accepting the bouquet, her voice a mix of surprise and delight. Their eyes met again, a silent conversation passing between them, a moment of mutual recognition that transcended the physical space they occupied. The guards, ever watchful, shifted uncomfortably at this interaction, yet their presence felt miles away to Y/N, lost as she was in the magic of the moment.

As the night progressed, with each act weaving its own magic, Y/N found her thoughts returning to Hyunjin. There was something about him that transcended his illusions, something that embodied the spirit of the circus itself—resilience, the beauty in embracing one's flaws, and the boldness to live authentically amidst judgment. As the final echoes of applause faded and the crowd began to filter out into the night, Y/N found herself rooted to the spot, her heart and mind abuzz with the electrifying performances and the enigmatic figure of the magician, Hyunjin. The guards, ever vigilant, nudged her gently, their voices a stark reminder of the world outside the circus tent.

"Miss Y/N, it's time we head back. Your parents will be expecting you," one guard mentioned, his tone polite yet firm.

Y/N sighed, a sense of reality piercing the magical bubble she had been in. "I know, I just... wish this night could last forever," she replied, her gaze lingering on the now-dimming stage.

As they escorted her away from the tent, a part of her rebelled against the idea that this magical evening was just a fleeting moment in time. She felt an undeniable pull, a sense that her journey with the circus—and with Hyunjin—was far from over. In the days that followed, that pull became a magnetic force, drawing Y/N back to the circus grounds time and again. Each visit was a chance to immerse herself in the world she had become so enchanted with, and, more specifically, to witness Hyunjin weave his magic. With every performance, every secretive exchange of glances between them, the connection they shared seemed to deepen, blossoming silently yet powerfully in the shared glimmers of recognition and intrigue under the kaleidoscopic circus lights.

"It's like you're part of the act, the way you both look at each other," a fellow audience member whispered to Y/N during one of her visits, having noticed the unspoken communication between her and Hyunjin.

Y/N could only smile, her heart fluttering at the thought. "Maybe in another life," she whispered back, her eyes fixed on Hyunjin, who seemed to perform with an extra spark of intensity whenever their eyes met.

As Hyunjin's act reached its zenith, he sought to introduce a new element that would captivate his audience further. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced with a flourish, his voice booming yet inviting, "for my next act, I require the assistance of one daring volunteer from among you. Who will join me in creating magic tonight?"

A forest of hands immediately sprang up, a sea of eager faces, predominantly female, each vying for the magician's attention. Amidst the sea of enthusiasm, Y/N, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, timidly raised her hand as well. Her action, however, did not go unnoticed by the guard seated to her left. With a swift motion, he clasped her wrist, his expression stern. His look was a silent reminder of her parents' expectations and the potential repercussions of her involvement in the circus acts. Y/N's excitement quickly turned to disappointment, her frown deep and evident. This subtle exchange did not escape Hyunjin's keen observation. Making his way through the throng of hands and hopeful faces, he approached Y/N with a purposeful grace. As he stood before her, he bent slightly, bringing himself face to face with her, their eyes locking in a silent conversation.

"Do you wish to be part of this next enchantment?" he inquired softly, his gaze intense yet inviting, cutting through the din of the circus around them.

Y/N, momentarily lost in the depth of his gaze, found her voice, her nod barely perceptible. "Yes, I'd... I'd like that very much," she managed to whisper, her voice a mix of awe and determination.

Hyunjin's smile broadened, a spark of excitement flickering in his eyes. He extended his hand towards her, a gesture of invitation and challenge. "Then come, let us weave magic together," he beckoned, his tone laced with an irresistible charm.

With a moment's hesitation, Y/N reached out, her fingers slipping into his with an electric touch. As he gently pulled her up, she rose to her feet, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. The guard, sensing the futility of resisting this moment and perhaps wary of causing a scene, reluctantly released her wrist, allowing her to step into the spotlight.

As Y/N moved into the circle, the audience's anticipation palpable in the air, Hyunjin addressed her with a conspiratorial whisper, "Fear not, for tonight, you are the key to unlocking wonders yet unseen."

"What must I do?" Y/N asked, her voice steadier now, empowered by Hyunjin's confidence in her.

"Just trust in the magic, follow my lead, and together, we'll astound them all," Hyunjin replied, his eyes twinkling with the promise of the extraordinary.

Turning to face the audience, Hyunjin announced, "With the courage of my esteemed assistant, we shall embark on a journey beyond the bounds of the imaginable." The crowd leaned in, their excitement a tangible force in the air.

Hyunjin then guided Y/N through the intricacies of the trick, their movements synchronized in a dance of illusion and reality. Each gesture, each word from Hyunjin, served to draw Y/N deeper into the world of magic, her initial nervousness replaced by a burgeoning sense of wonder and belonging. The trick unfolded with a series of unexpected twists and turns, each more breathtaking than the last, culminating in a finale that drew gasps and applause from the captivated audience. Y/N, at the heart of the spectacle, felt a profound connection not only to Hyunjin but to the very essence of the circus itself. It was a moment of transformation, of crossing a threshold from spectator to participant in the circus's magical tapestry.

As the applause thundered around them, Hyunjin turned to Y/N, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared triumph. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd, "for daring to embrace the magic."

Y/N, overwhelmed by the experience and the unexpected journey she had embarked on, could only nod, her heart full. "Thank you, for making me a part of it," she replied, her voice tinged with gratitude and wonder.

After the exhilarating show, the heart of the circus, its main acts—Hyunjin, Jeongin (I.N), Seungmin, Felix, Jisung (Han), Chanbin, Minho (Lee Know), and the ringmaster Bang Chan—drifted through the backstage area towards their communal campsite, a place they called home. Each member of this tight-knit family bore physical reminders of their tumultuous pasts. Bang Chan sported a prosthetic arm, a testament to resilience. Seungmin's face was marked by a burn on the right side, a stark reminder of his history. Jisung wore an eyepatch, concealing the void left by his left eye. Minho moved gracefully on a prosthetic leg, Chanbin bore a scar that ran down his chest, Felix's eyes—one hazel, one dark brown—shone with a unique light, Jeongin's demeanor oscillated between childlike innocence and unsettling intensity, and Hyunjin, with his scarred visage and blind left eye, completed this ensemble of survivors. These were the originals, the founding members of the circus, each one a story of triumph over adversity. Once outcasts and strays who sought refuge in the streets, they now stood as pillars of a vibrant community that thrived on joy, laughter, and the sheer magic of performance. Their circus had grown beyond their wildest dreams, yet their mission remained unchanged: to spread happiness, for in the smiles of their audience, they found their own strength magnified. As they made their way back, the air was filled with the buzz of post-show excitement and the anticipation of a well-deserved rest day ahead. This break from the rigors of performance offered them a precious moment to either hone their crafts or simply unwind, a necessary pause in their otherwise relentless schedule.

Chanbin, ever the spirited member of the group, approached Hyunjin with a playful energy, slapping him on the back in a gesture of camaraderie. "Hyunjin, that was a stellar act tonight! You really outdid yourself with that new trick," he exclaimed, his voice echoing the sentiment of admiration felt by all.

Hyunjin, still riding the high of the performance, turned to Chanbin with a smile. "Thanks, Chanbin. It felt different tonight, more... electric. I think we reached new heights together," he replied, his enthusiasm infectious.

Jisung, always observant, sidled up to the duo, his curiosity piqued by the connection he had noticed between Hyunjin and a particular audience member. "Speaking of tonight's act," Jisung began, his tone teasing yet pointed, "that girl you chose as your assistant—she's become quite the regular, hasn't she? Seems particularly captivated by your performances."

Hyunjin's expression softened at the mention of Y/N, a mix of intrigue and fondness playing across his features. "Yeah, she has been coming to a lot of shows lately. There's something about her... It's like she sees right through the illusion to the heart of the magic," he mused, his thoughts drifting to the moments they had shared on stage.

The conversation caught the interest of the others, who gathered around, eager to chime in with their observations and jests. Felix, with his ever-present smile, nudged Hyunjin gently. "Sounds like someone's got a fan—or maybe something a bit more?" he teased, winking.

Hyunjin chuckled, brushing off the implication while not entirely dismissing it. "Let's just say, our paths seem uniquely intertwined," he conceded, his gaze distant, as if contemplating the depth of that connection.

BangChan, the de facto leader and elder brother figure, clapped his hands together, drawing the group's attention. "Alright, team, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We've got a day off tomorrow, and I say we make the most of it. Some rest, some practice, and maybe even a little bit of fun. We've earned it," he declared, his voice imbued with a warmth that resonated with each member.

Nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the group, each member already envisioning how they would spend their well-deserved break. The camaraderie and mutual respect among them were palpable, a bond forged through shared experiences, both triumphant and tragic. As they dispersed, heading towards the showers and then to their respective quarters, the night was alive with the promise of rest, reflection, and rejuvenation. For in the world of the circus, every day brought new challenges, new audiences to enchant, and new stories to weave into the rich tapestry of their collective journey.

Hyunjin lingered for a moment longer, his mind still on Y/N, her presence at the shows, and the undeniable spark that seemed to ignite between them with each performance. It was a curious thing, this feeling, something he has never felt before in his life, and for some reason it scared him. Y/N's steps echoed in the quiet night, her mind replaying the melodies of Lee Know's song, a sweet remnant of her recent adventure. As she approached her home, the shadows seemed to dance, blending the magical world of the circus with the stark reality of her impending reception. The guards, ever-present yet unobtrusive, melted away as she reached her door, signaling her return to a different kind of performance. Crossing he threshold, she was immediately enveloped by a tension so thick it almost pushed her back out. Her parents stood like guardians of a different realm, their faces etched with worry and disapproval.

"Good evening," Y/N ventured, her voice a soft attempt to bridge the gap widening between them.

Her father's eyes met hers, a storm brewing in their depths. Without a word, he turned away, his silence louder than any reprimand.

Her mother sighed, a delicate frown marring her features. "We were worried, Y/N. This... obsession with the circus. It's not healthy."

Y/N's heart sank, but she fought to keep her voice steady. "But, Mom, the circus is magical. It's not just an obsession; it's a passion. You should have seen what happened tonight!"

Her father, unable to contain his disapproval, finally spoke. "What happened tonight? What new spectacle has caught your fancy now?"

"It's not just spectacle," Y/N replied, her voice gaining strength. "It's about the stories, the art, the connection. Tonight, I wasn't just watching; I was a part of something bigger. Isn't that what life is about? Finding your place in the world?"

Her mother exchanged a glance with her father, her eyes reflecting a war between support and concern. "Being part of something bigger doesn't mean losing yourself, Y/N. We just want you to be safe, to think about your future."

"But I am thinking about my future," Y/N insisted. "A future where I'm free to love what I love, to be who I want to be. The circus shows me that world. Can't you see?" In the midst of their heated debate, Y/N tried to convey her exhilaration, "But you don't see! The circus, it's...it's magical. And Hyunjin, he—"

Her father cut her off, his voice sharp and cold. "Magical? You call fraternizing with those...those performers magical? It's reckless, Y/N. You're throwing away everything we've worked for, for what? A moment's thrill?"

"Reckless? No, Dad, it's about being alive, being part of something truly extraordinary. Hyunjin and the others, they're not just performers; they're artists, they're—"

Her father's temper flared, "Artists? They're outcasts! And now you, assisting on stage? It's disgraceful! You're a part of this family, not some...some circus act!"

Y/N's resolve hardened against her father's scorn. "Disgraceful? Because they dare to be different? They've shown me what real courage is, what it means to embrace who you are. Why can't you respect that?"

Her mother, trying to keep the peace, interjected weakly, "Y/N, please understand. Your father is just concerned about—"

"Concerned?" Y/N's voice cracked with emotion. "Or ashamed? Ashamed that I might find my place among people he deems unworthy?"

Her father stood, imposing and unyielding. "Ashamed? Yes, ashamed that my daughter is blinded by this...this fantasy. You think they're your friends? They're using you, making a fool out of you and, by extension, us."

Y/N, her voice trembling with both anger and passion, shot back, "They've accepted me for who I am, something I've never felt here, in this house of judgment. Hyunjin, he sees me, not as a fool, but as someone capable of being part of their world, their magic."

"Enough!" Her father's voice thundered, silencing the room. "Your defiance only proves your immaturity. You will cease this nonsense. No more circus. That's final. If you continue to defy us, the consequences will be severe."

Y/N, her patience shattered and her voice cold with disdain, turned at the foot of the stairs. "Keep your judgments and your so-called wisdom to yourselves. I'd rather be a 'disgrace' out there living my truth than spend another moment suffocating under your narrow-minded pretense of a life."

Without waiting for a retort, she stormed up the stairs, her steps a defiant drumbeat against their traditional values. After Y/N's scathing words cut through the tension, she spun on her heel, the force of her departure leaving a palpable void. She didn't look back as she ascended the stairs, each step echoing her resolve and the rift it had caused. In the immediate aftermath, her mother, without a moment's hesitation, sprang into action. Ignoring the stifling silence and the stern gaze of her husband, she hurried after Y/N. Her heart pounded with a mixture of fear, determination, and a desperate need to mend what had just been broken.

"Y/N!" she called out, her voice a blend of worry and urgency as she climbed the stairs. She reached Y/N's door just as it was about to close, pushing it gently open to bridge the physical and emotional distance between them. "Please, can we talk? Just you and me."

Y/N, standing in the middle of her sanctuary, her emotions a whirlwind, faced her mother. The anger still simmered, but the presence of her mother, showing concern and a willingness to listen, tempered it slightly.

"Why?" Y/N's voice was a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "So you can tell me again how wrong I am? How I should just give up on everything I love?"

Her mother stepped inside, closing the door behind her, a symbolic gesture to shut out the world and its judgments. "No, not to tell you you're wrong. I... I came to say I'm sorry. Sorry that we've made you feel this way, that we haven't tried to understand. Tell me about the circus, about why it means so much to you. Help me see, Y/N."

This was the first time Y/N felt her mother truly reaching out, not as an enforcer of her father's rules, but as a parent trying to connect with her child's passion.

"It's where I feel like I belong, Mom," Y/N began, her voice softening. "It's not just about the performances. It's about the people, the freedom, the acceptance. They've shown me that it's okay to be different, that it's okay to dream big."

Her mother nodded, taking a tentative step closer. "I see. I've never looked at it that way. Maybe... maybe we've been too quick to judge. Tell me more, please. I want to understand."

As Y/N spoke, the walls between them began to crumble, not completely, but enough to let the light of understanding shine through. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt heard, and her mother, though still worried, began to grasp the depth of her daughter's dreams.

The next day Hyunjin woke up feeling awake and refreshed. The sounds of the circus crew were faint outside his tent, going about their day seeing as they all had it off. He stretched, his body filled with an energy that only a good night's sleep could provide. The circus was quiet, a rare day off for everyone, and the calm was as refreshing as the sleep had been. He swapped his usual stage attire for something more casual and made his way out, eager for the day ahead.

As he stepped out, Bang Chan, the ring leader, and Chanbin, the lion tamer, were there to greet him with warm smiles. "Morning, Hyunjin! Sleep well?" Bang Chan asked, his voice carrying the easy authority of someone born to lead.

"Like a log," Hyunjin responded, grinning. "Ready to tackle the day off?"

Chanbin chuckled, "As ready as one can be. Let's grab some breakfast. I'm starving."

The trio walked towards the communal tent, where the rest of the crew was gathering for the morning meal. The smell of breakfast filled the air, a comforting blend of coffee, eggs, and fresh bread.

Inside, Jisung and Jeongin were already at a table, deep in conversation, while Felix, Seungmin, and Minho were in line for food. Felix spotted them joining the queue and flashed his signature bright smile. "Morning, guys! How did everyone sleep?"

"Great, thanks," Hyunjin said, his mind drifting momentarily to the volunteer from last night's show. "Actually, I kept thinking about the girl who helped with the magic act. She seemed so captivated by everything."

"Oh, her!" Felix's eyes lit up with recognition. "She's been here a few times, hasn't she? Always looks like she's seeing magic for the first time."

Chanbin, overhearing the conversation, added, "Did you notice the bodyguards trying to stop her from joining you on stage, Hyunjin? Wonder why she needs two of them."

Bang Chan leaned in, curiosity piqued. "Bodyguards, you say? That's unusual for a circus audience. Maybe she's someone important, or perhaps there's more to her story."

Hyunjin nodded, thoughtful. "Yeah, there's something about her. Last night felt... different. Like there was a real connection, not just the usual volunteer interaction."

The group pondered this as they moved along the line, filling their plates. The mystery of the girl and her evident fascination with the circus sparked a lively debate among them, each offering theories and observations.

"Perhaps she's seeking escape, something we all can relate to," Seungmin suggested, joining the conversation. "The circus is another world, after all."

"True," Minho agreed. "We've all found refuge under this big top. Maybe she's just like us, drawn to the magic, the freedom."

They settled down to eat, the conversation shifted to plans for the day off, but Hyunjin's thoughts remained on the girl. There was a story there, he was sure, and he found himself eager to discover it. Y/N's heart was set on a day of freedom, a brief respite from the watchful eyes that constantly hovered over her life. The idea of spending a day out with Maya, her closest friend, without the omnipresent shadow of her bodyguards felt like a breath of fresh air. With a plan in mind and a hopeful heart, she tiptoed through the lavish corridors of her home, each step calculated to avoid detection.

Unfortunately, her father, ever vigilant, caught a glimpse of her attempting to slip away. His voice, firm and unyielding, halted her in her tracks. "Y/N, where do you think you're going?"

Caught off guard, Y/N turned, offering a smile that she hoped would disarm. "Just out with Maya, Dad. Nothing major."

Her father, however, was not swayed. "You know the rules, Y/N. If you're going out, you're taking a bodyguard. I won't have you wandering the streets unprotected."

Y/N's heart sank. "But Dad, can't I just—"

"No buts," he interjected. "It's not open for discussion. You can have your freedom, but safety comes first."

Resigned, Y/N nodded, unable to argue further without risking further confinement. As she met Maya outside, her friend's immediate eye roll at the sight of the trailing bodyguard said it all.

"I'm so sorry, Maya. Dad saw me sneaking out," Y/N explained, her frustration evident.

Maya, ever the supportive friend, shrugged it off with a smile. "It's no big deal. Let's not let it ruin our day. We've got shopping to do!"

Meanwhile, Hyunjin, craving a similar escape, ventured into the city with a different purpose. He was on a mission to gather pieces for a new costume, something to invigorate his next performance. With a cap pulled low and a mask concealing half his face, he navigated the bustling streets incognito. The fame of the circus and its founding members made anonymity a precious commodity, and his scar, a reminder of his unique journey, was something he preferred to keep hidden from the prying eyes of the public. Despite the circus's celebration of diversity, his own insecurities whispered too loudly on days like this. Y/N and Maya, immersed in their day out, found themselves weaving stories and sharing laughter, the bodyguard momentarily forgotten in the joy of their reunion. It was Maya who, with a mischievous glint in her eye, suggested a daring escape.

"Ready to lose your shadow?" Maya whispered conspiratorially.

Y/N, caught up in the thrill, nodded eagerly. "What's the plan?"

"Follow me and keep up," Maya said, pulling her into the throng of a crowded marketplace.

With practiced ease, they darted and dodged through the mass of people, their laughter mingling with the hum of the city. Just when they thought they had outmaneuvered the guard, they ducked into a shop, hiding among the racks of clothes. Peering out, they watched him pass by, oblivious to their trickery. Seizing their moment of freedom, they dashed in the opposite direction, only for Y/N to collide with a stranger. Stumbling back, she found herself looking up into the partially concealed face of a man who, despite the mask and cap, radiated a familiar warmth.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there," Y/N apologized, her heart skipping a beat as she took in the stranger's appearance. There was something about him, a presence that felt oddly comforting yet exhilarating.

"No harm done," the stranger replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But you should be more careful. The streets can be unpredictable."

Y/N, still caught in the stranger's gaze, nodded, unaware that the collision was not just with any passerby but with Hyunjin himself, out on his own quest for freedom and inspiration.

As Maya joined Y/N's side, a puzzled look crossed her face. "Do we know you?" she asked, eyeing the stranger curiously.

Hyunjin, realizing the potential for recognition, weighed his options. To reveal himself could mean drawing attention they all sought to avoid, yet the intrigue in their eyes was hard to dismiss.

"Let's just say I'm a fan of unexpected meetings," Hyunjin said, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps the city has its way of bringing people together."

I apologize for not meeting your expectations earlier. Let's rewrite the part according to your detailed description and requirements.

Hyunjin, stepping away from the unexpected encounter, felt a whirlwind of emotions. The brief moment with Y/N, the girl who had become a staple in the audience of his performances, left him both thrilled and unnerved. Her presence had always been a highlight of his act, their eyes locking in a silent communication amidst the magic he conjured. Now, having bumped into her, the familiarity of those feelings surged with a new intensity, mingling with the fear of the unknown emotions she stirred within him. He remembered her vividly, each night she attended, watching with an untainted sense of wonder that fueled his passion on stage. As he disappeared into a shop, hoping to find pieces that would add to his mesmerizing performances, his face flushed with a heat that had little to do with the summer air. Underneath his mask, his cheeks burned with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Back at the cafe, Y/N sat across from Maya, her mind racing. "It was Hyunjin, wasn't it?" Maya asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

"Yes," Y/N whispered, almost to herself. "I recognized him... it's hard not to. But I didn't want to say anything right there."

Maya, sipping her coffee, nearly choked on her drink. "I can't believe you've been going to the circus," she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and admiration. "And your parents actually let you?"

Y/N laughed softly, the sound tinged with a hint of defiance. "It took a lot of convincing, and the condition was the bodyguards. But it was worth it, every single time."

Maya shook her head, her initial surprise giving way to envy. "I'm jealous, you know. Those tickets aren't cheap."

Y/N acknowledged the privilege that allowed her these escapes with a shy smile. "I know, but the circus is more than just a show. It's a world of its own, where magic feels real, and for a few hours, I can be part of that magic."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, with Y/N sharing stories of the circus's enchantment and the performers who had captivated her. Maya listened intently, drawn into the vivid picture Y/N painted with her words.

"Hey, you should come with me next time," Y/N suggested, her eyes sparkling with the idea. "I'll get tickets for us. It's an experience you won't forget."

Maya's eyes widened with excitement. "Really? I'd love to. But are you sure? Those tickets..."

"Don't worry about it," Y/N interrupted, her tone full of conviction. "It's on me. I want you to see it, to feel what I feel when I'm there."

As they planned their next adventure, Y/N felt a renewed sense of purpose. Sharing her passion for the circus with Maya not only deepened their friendship but also reinforced her own love for the magical world she had discovered. Meanwhile, Hyunjin, hidden behind the racks of a quaint shop, allowed himself to dream bigger for his next act, inspired by the brief encounter with Y/N. The chance meeting reminded him of the impact his performances had on the audience, fueling his desire to create something even more spectacular. He pondered over fabrics and designs, each choice now infused with the possibility of seeing Y/N in the crowd again, her eyes filled with the same wonder that had first drawn him to her.

As Y/N and Maya, bubbling with anticipation, made their way through the bustling streets back to Y/N's opulent home, their recent escape from the watchful eyes of the bodyguard became a cherished memory, a shared adventure that bonded them even closer. After a brief stop at Maya's to collect her overnight essentials, they prepared for an evening that promised to be unforgettable. Y/N, seated at her desk, navigated the circus's website with practiced ease. She selected front-row tickets, sparing no expense for the perfect view, and, with a resigned sigh, added tickets for the guards. Their presence was a necessary concession to her father's strict rules, a shadow over her otherwise unbridled enthusiasm. The evening of the circus arrived with a flurry of excitement. Y/N and Maya dressed with care, choosing outfits that mirrored the magic they were about to witness. As they stepped outside, the guards, ever present, nodded in acknowledgment, a silent promise of protection.

The drive to the circus was filled with chatter, Maya's excitement palpable as she peppered Y/N with questions. "What's your favorite act?" "How does it feel to be so close to the magic?" Y/N answered each query with a warmth in her heart, thrilled to share this part of her world with her friend.

Upon arrival, the circus grounds buzzed with energy, the air electric with anticipation. As they approached the entrance, Bang Chan, the charismatic ringmaster, greeted guests with a wide, welcoming smile. His eyes lit up in recognition at the sight of Y/N.

"Back again, I see?" he remarked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Y/N's smile broadened, her excitement uncontainable. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," she replied, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Bang Chan, intrigued by her frequent visits, leaned in slightly. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Y/N," she responded, a flush of pride coloring her cheeks at the personal interest from the ringmaster himself.

"Y/N," he repeated, nodding with a genuine smile. "Well, you're in for a treat tonight. We've expanded the show—more acts, more magic. It's going to be a night to remember."

Maya, standing beside Y/N, looked on in awe, the reality of the circus's allure unfolding before her. "This is amazing, Y/N. I can't believe I'm here," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

As they handed their tickets to Bang Chan, he offered them a conspiratorial wink. "Enjoy the show, and keep an eye out for the surprises we have in store."

Stepping into the circus tent, the transformation was immediate. The outside world, with all its rules and restrictions, faded away, leaving only the promise of enchantment. The front-row seats offered an unobstructed view of the ring, where performers were beginning to gather, their costumes a kaleidoscope of color and fantasy.

As the lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, the anticipation reaching its peak. Bang Chan's voice, rich and inviting, filled the space. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to a night where the impossible becomes possible, where dreams take flight, and magic reigns supreme. Prepare to be amazed!"

Y/N glanced at Maya, her heart swelling at her friend's captivated expression. This was the magic she had longed to share, a world where wonders never ceased, and for a few precious hours, anything was possible.

The show unfolded with breathtaking spectacle, each act surpassing the last in thrill and wonder. Hyunjin's magic act was a highlight, his new costume catching the light in a mesmerizing dance. Y/N's gaze found his, a silent acknowledgment passing between them, a connection that seemed to transcend the boundaries of the circus ring. As the final act drew to a close, the audience erupted into applause, a standing ovation for the performers who had made the impossible real. Y/N and Maya joined in, their applause heartfelt, their spirits lifted by the magic they had witnessed.

After the show, as the crowd began to disperse, Y/N felt a gentle tug on her arm. Maya, her eyes alight with excitement, leaned in. "Y/N, this was incredible. Thank you for bringing me. I've never felt so alive!"

Y/N smiled, her own heart full. "I'm glad you loved it. The circus has a way of doing that—making you feel alive."

Y/N and Maya, still riding the high of the circus's magic, made their way out of the large tent, their senses alight with the vibrant energy of the evening. As they stepped into the cool night air, they noticed a crowd gathering nearby, curiosity drawing them closer.

"What's going on?" Maya asked, craning her neck to see over the heads in front of them.

Y/N, equally intrigued, tiptoed slightly. "Looks like they're handing out something. Let's check it out."

As they approached, they realized it was Felix and Jeongin from the circus, their vibrant personalities impossible to miss. Jeongin, with a childlike enthusiasm, bounced on the balls of his feet, his laughter infectious as he handed out flyers.

"Hey, look! It's Felix and Jeongin," Maya pointed out, her voice tinged with excitement.

Y/N smiled, her interest piqued. "Let's go get a flyer."

They made their way through the crowd, reaching the front where Felix and Jeongin stood. Jeongin's smile widened upon seeing them approach, "Hello there! Did you enjoy the show?" he asked, his voice bubbling with genuine interest.

Felix, standing beside him, offered his own warm greeting. "Yeah, did you like it? It's always great to see new faces and regulars alike," he said, his dual-colored eyes twinkling under the lights.

Maya, eager to respond, nodded vigorously. "It was amazing, my first time here! And Y/N's told me so much about it."

Y/N, feeling a connection to the circus stronger than ever, chimed in. "Yes, I loved it, as always. I heard you're doing an open day? Could we get some flyers? We'd love to come."

Felix glanced at the dwindling stack of flyers in his hand, then back at Y/N and Maya. "Sure, how many would you need?"

"Four, please. One for me, one for Maya, and two for our... companions," Y/N said, gesturing subtly towards the guards who stood a respectful distance away.

Felix's eyes followed her gesture, a flicker of curiosity in his gaze as he looked back at her. Jeongin, ever the straightforward one, didn't hesitate to voice his thoughts. "Why do you have guards? If you don't mind me asking."

Y/N sighed, a shadow crossing her features for a moment. "My dad... he's just very protective. Wants to make sure I'm safe, that's all."

Jeongin and Felix exchanged a look, the atmosphere tinged with a newfound understanding. "That must be tough, having to be followed around like that," Felix said, his voice soft with empathy.

"Yeah, it has its moments," Y/N admitted, the brief sadness in her eyes speaking volumes. "But it's worth it for experiences like these. The circus... it's like a different world, one where I feel free, even if just for a little while."

Jeongin, brightening at her words, handed over the flyers with a grin. "Well, we're glad you feel that way. This open day is going to be something special. You'll get to see behind the scenes, meet more of us, and really get a feel for what makes this place so magical."

"Thank you," Maya said, taking her flyer with a smile. "We're really looking forward to it."

As they turned to leave, Felix called out, "Hey, we'll see you there, then! And don't worry, it'll be a day where you can forget about those guards for a bit and just enjoy."

Y/N and Maya walked away, flyers in hand, their spirits lifted by the promise of another day filled with the circus's enchantment. The open day offered a glimpse into a world Y/N had only begun to explore, a chance to deepen her connection with the place that had captured her heart.

"Imagine getting to go behind the scenes," Maya mused, her voice alive with anticipation. "What do you think we'll see?"

Y/N's thoughts wandered to the performers they'd met, the acts they'd witnessed, and the magic that permeated the very air of the circus. "I think we'll see dreams being built," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "And maybe, just maybe, we'll learn a little bit about what it takes to make magic real."

On the eagerly awaited open day, Y/N and Maya held their leaflets tightly, their excitement barely contained as they approached the entrance of the circus. The vibrant atmosphere was palpable, with performers from various acts mingling with the guests, showcasing snippets of their talents.

Bang Chan, the esteemed ringmaster, greeted them at the entrance. His recognition of Y/N was immediate, and his welcoming smile put them at ease. "Ah, our regular visitor and her friend! Welcome to the open day," he said, extending his prosthetic hand to collect their leaflets. The guards, ever present, handed theirs over as well, their stoic expressions in stark contrast to the festive environment.

Y/N, her hands briefly entwined in a gesture of gratitude, thanked Bang Chan. "We're really excited to be here. Thank you for having us."

With a nod, Bang Chan ushered them through the gates, where the circus opened up into a world of wonder. Their first encounter was with Lee Know, the singer and a key performer, who was adjusting his prosthetic leg. Noticing their approach, he quickly finished and stood, greeting them with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that, didn't notice you there. Ready for a little tour?"

As they ventured deeper into the circus, Lee Know introduced them to the vibrant cast of characters that made up their unique family. First on the tour was Chanbin, the lion tamer, who was in the midst of a feeding session with a baby cub, its mother lying calmly by his side.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Chanbin said, gesturing towards the lioness. "Don't worry, they're quite used to people. The little one's a handful, though."

Next, they met Felix and Jeongin, the clowns, who were in the middle of their act. Jeongin, with his boundless energy, attempted a magic trick that ended in a comical display of twigs and a few flower petals instead of the intended bouquet. His laughter, infectious and bright, filled the air as he presented his accidental creation to Y/N. "A little bit of nature for you," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Felix, meanwhile, juggled skillfully while balancing on a unicycle, his concentration unbroken by the giggles and applause from the onlookers. "Always practice, never a dull moment!" he called out, catching his props with a flourish.

Wandering the park area on stilts was Seungmin, the acrobat, alongside Jisung. Their towering presence drew a crowd as they moved gracefully among the guests, engaging in light conversation and sharing laughs. "It's all about balance," Seungmin explained, his voice carrying down from his elevated position. "And a bit of courage, I suppose."

The highlight of their tour was the visit to Hyunjin, who had attracted a significant crowd with his enchanting magic. Lee Know, seeing the interest in Y/N and Maya's eyes, led them to the front. "Let's get a better view," he whispered, guiding them closer.

Hyunjin's performance was mesmerizing, his subtle tricks weaving a spell over the audience. Y/N and Maya, now front and center, watched in awe as he manipulated light and shadow, his movements fluid and precise.

After the demonstration, Hyunjin addressed the crowd, his gaze lingering on Y/N and Maya. "Thank you for joining us today. Magic isn't just about the tricks; it's about the connection we share in these moments."

As the tour concluded, Y/N and Maya thanked Lee Know for the incredible experience. "This was beyond anything we could've imagined," Y/N said, her voice full of emotion. "Thank you for showing us the heart of the circus."

Maya nodded in agreement. "It's been an eye-opening day. The talent, the passion... it's all so inspiring."

As Y/N and Maya lingered at the circus, their day was filled with the mesmerizing performances of the original cast and the other talented performers. Their attention was caught by Jeongin, who was taking a well-deserved break. Sensing their gaze, he waved them over with a friendly smile.

"Hey there!" Jeongin greeted as they approached, his eyes landing on Y/N. "I've noticed you around quite a bit. What brings you back so often?" he inquired, curiosity lighting up his face.

Y/N, feeling a bit on the spot but warmed by his interest, replied, "It's the freedom here, the way everyone is so open and expressive. It's truly inspiring."

Jeongin's smile grew at her words, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. "That's really kind of you to say. Thank you! It means a lot to us that our message resonates with you."

Maya, not one to shy away from deeper conversations, chimed in, "We've also noticed the scars that each of the main eight performers carries. It seems like you all have been through quite a lot."

For a moment, Jeongin's usual jovial demeanor faded, replaced by a more reflective expression. "Yes," he admitted, his smile tinged with sadness. "We've all had our share of struggles. But we found each other when we were just kids, on the streets. Bang Chan brought us together, made us a family. We're not alone anymore; we're brothers."

Intrigued by their origin story, Maya asked, "How did the idea of starting a circus come about? It's remarkable how you've turned your pasts into something so beautiful and uplifting."

It was at this point that Hyunjin joined the conversation, his arrival unnoticed until he spoke. "The circus was Bang Chan's dream," he explained, his gaze briefly meeting Maya's before settling on Y/N, causing an unmistakable flutter in her heart. "He saw it as a way for us to channel our experiences into something positive, to create a place where not only could we be free but also spread joy and wonder."

Y/N, moved by their stories, cast a sidelong glance at the guards her father insisted accompany her. It was a silent reminder of the constraints she lived under, a stark contrast to the freedom she yearned for.

Hyunjin and Jeongin noticed the direction of her gaze, their expressions shifting as they took in the sight of the two guards standing a short distance away. "It seems you're not entirely free yourself," Hyunjin observed, his tone gentle yet filled with understanding.

Y/N sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation in her voice. "My dad is... protective. He means well, but sometimes it feels like I'm more of a prisoner than a daughter."

Jeongin, ever the optimist, tried to lighten the mood. "Well, at least you get to escape to our little world of magic from time to time, right?"

Hyunjin nodded, adding, "And who knows? Maybe one day, you'll find a way to bridge your world with ours. Freedom comes in many forms, and sometimes, it's about finding the right moment to seize it."

Their conversation deepened as they discussed the themes of freedom and resilience that ran through the circus's ethos. Y/N and Maya listened intently as Jeongin and Hyunjin shared more about their lives, the formation of the circus, and the bonds that held them together.

As the open day drew to a close, Y/N and Maya knew they were leaving with much more than they had come for. Not only had they witnessed the spectacle of the circus, but they had also gained insights into the lives of those who made it possible. The stories of hardship and triumph, of finding family in the most unlikely places, resonated deeply with them.

Before parting ways, Hyunjin offered one last piece of advice. "Keep seeking freedom, Y/N. It's out there, and sometimes, it finds you when you least expect it."

With heartfelt thanks, Y/N and Maya bid farewell to Jeongin and Hyunjin, their hearts full of new dreams and aspirations. Hyunjin and Jeongin stood side by side, their eyes following Y/N and Maya as they navigated through the departing crowd. There was a reflective silence between the two performers, a rare moment of introspection in the aftermath of their heartfelt conversation.

Jeongin, ever observant, caught Hyunjin's lingering gaze on Y/N. A mischievous grin spread across his face, breaking the solemn mood. "You seem quite taken with our regular visitor," he teased, nudging Hyunjin playfully.

Hyunjin, caught off guard, stumbled over his words momentarily before regaining his composure. "It's not like that. It's just... refreshing to meet someone who sees beyond the spectacle, who understands the heart of what we do," he defended, though his cheeks betrayed him with a hint of color.

Jeongin's laughter filled the air, light and carefree. "Oh, I get it. She sees the magic behind the magic. That's special, isn't it?"

Hyunjin nodded, his gaze still fixed on the distance Y/N and Maya had disappeared into. "Yeah, it is. Most people come for the thrills, the laughs, and the awe. But Y/N and Maya, they looked deeper. They saw us."

The two performers turned back to face the now-emptying circus grounds, the energy of the open day lingering like a warm afterglow. "It's strange, isn't it?" Jeongin mused. "We started this circus to hide in plain sight, to use our performances as a shield. And now, we find ourselves hoping to be truly seen."

Hyunjin sighed, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Maybe it's time we let the world in a little more. Y/N reminded us that our stories, as dark as they may be, have the power to connect, to inspire... maybe even to heal."

Jeongin's eyes twinkled with a newfound determination. "Let's do it. Let's weave more of our truth into the tapestry of our performances. Who knows how many more Y/Ns and her friend are out there, looking for a piece of magic they can relate to?"

The decision settled between them like a silent pact, an agreement to open up their world a little wider, to share not just the spectacle of the circus but the soul behind it.

As they began to make their way back to the performers' quarters, Jeongin's voice echoed back to Hyunjin. "So, when are you going to invite Y/N back for a private tour? I'm sure she'd love to learn even more about the magic we create."

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head at Jeongin's teasing. "We'll see. For now, let's focus on our next show. We have stories to tell, and I want them to be unforgettable."

The conversation faded into the night as the two performers disappeared behind the curtain, their spirits lifted by the promise of new beginnings. The open day had brought unexpected revelations and connections, bridging worlds that once seemed so distant. For Hyunjin and Jeongin, it was a reminder that behind every act, every trick, and every performance, there was a human story waiting to be told, and perhaps, waiting to be understood.

As Y/N and Maya stepped through the front door of Y/N's home, the familiar sound of raised voices greeted them. The living room was a battleground of words, with Y/N's mother and father locked in yet another argument about Y/N's future. Their voices clashed, each trying to drown out the other with their own version of reason, but neither willing to concede.

The lightness in Y/N's heart from the day's adventure quickly dimmed, the joyous echoes of the circus fading into the background. Maya, sensing her friend's discomfort, gave her sleeve a gentle tug, signaling a silent retreat to the sanctuary of Y/N's bedroom.

Y/N hesitated, the argument in the living room pulling at her attention. Her mother's voice, filled with passion, broke through, advocating for Y/N to have more freedom. "She needs to explore, to live! You can't keep her under lock and key forever," her mother argued, her frustration palpable.

Her father's rebuttal was immediate, his tone laced with the conviction of his overprotectiveness. "She has all the freedom she needs! The guards are for her safety, nothing more."

Y/N's heart ached at the words. To her father, freedom was a concept bounded by the presence of guards, a shadowed existence that felt more like a gilded cage than true liberty.

"Having someone watch over me every moment isn't freedom, Dad," Y/N whispered to herself, the words barely audible even in the quiet of the hallway.

Maya's gentle pull on her arm brought her back to the moment. With a resigned sigh, Y/N allowed her friend to lead her away from the heated exchange, up the stairs to the relative peace of her bedroom.

Once inside, Maya closed the door softly behind them, the muffled sounds of the argument below fading into a distant rumble.

She turned to Y/N, her expression a mix of concern and support. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It must be tough, feeling caught in the middle like this."

Y/N sank onto her bed, the events of the day colliding with the reality of her home life. "It's exhausting," she admitted. "I just wish they could see eye to eye, for once. My mom understands... She knows how much I crave real freedom, the kind we felt today at the circus."

Maya sat beside her, offering a comforting presence. "Your mom's right, you know. You deserve to explore, to find your own path. But maybe... maybe there's a way to help your dad see that too."

Y/N looked at Maya, hope flickering in her eyes. "How? He's so set in his ways. I've tried talking to him, but it always ends up in an argument."

"Maybe it's not about talking to him... not directly, at least," Maya mused. "What if we showed him? What if he could see firsthand what freedom means to you, how it changes you for the better?"

Y/N considered Maya's words, a plan slowly taking shape in her mind. "You mean like bringing him to the circus? Letting him see the magic, the joy it brings?"

"Exactly," Maya said, her voice growing excited. "He needs to understand that freedom isn't just about physical safety. It's about feeling alive, about connecting with something larger than yourself. And what better place to experience that than the circus?"

The idea was daring, perhaps even a little daunting, but Y/N felt a spark of determination ignite within her. "It's worth a try," she agreed, her mind racing with possibilities. "But we'll need to be careful, plan it just right."

The rest of the evening was spent in whispered conversations, plotting and planning how to bridge the gap between Y/N's worlds. They discussed every detail, from how to approach her mother with the idea to selecting the perfect circus performance that might captivate her father's heart. As night deepened, Y/N and Maya's plans grew more concrete, their strategy a blend of hope and daring. The challenge ahead was formidable, but for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt a flicker of optimism. The morning air was crisp and filled with the anticipation of freedom as Y/N and Maya readied themselves for a day out, unencumbered by the watchful eyes of Y/N's usual companions—the guards. As they were about to step through the door, Y/N's mother approached, her presence commanding the room.

"Girls, wait a moment," she called out, her voice carrying a mix of authority and excitement. The guard, already positioned by the door in his usual stance of vigilance, turned towards her, a questioning look in his eyes.

Y/N and Maya paused, an unspoken question hanging between them. Y/N's mother addressed the guard directly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll be needing you today for something else. The girls will be fine on their own."

The guard, clearly caught off guard by the sudden change in plans, glanced between Y/N, Maya, and her mother, his training clashing with the direct order from a family member. "But sir," he started, referring to Y/N's father's previous instructions, "he was quite clear about—"

"Things have changed for today," Y/N's mother interjected firmly, cutting off any objections. "I require your assistance elsewhere. Please, trust me on this."

With a hesitant nod, the guard acquiesced, the confusion evident on his face but the respect for her authority overriding his concerns. He left, casting one last unsure look at Y/N and Maya before disappearing down the hall.

Y/N stood there, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. "Mom, what just happened? How did you...?" she stammered, her voice a cocktail of shock and disbelief.

Her mother turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, a spark of rebellion in her eyes. "After last night's discussion, it became clear to me that something needed to change. Your father and I had quite the talk after you went to bed."

Maya, witnessing the exchange, nudged Y/N with a grin. "Looks like you're officially off the leash, huh?"

Y/N's mother continued, "Your father isn't thrilled, but we've agreed that you'll have a month to prove you can handle yourself without constant supervision. It's your chance to show him you're more than capable of managing your own safety."

Y/N, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in her reality, hugged her mother tightly. "Thank you, Mom. I won't let you down, I promise."

Her mother hugged her back, then stepped away, her gaze serious yet supportive. "I know you won't, darling. Just remember, with freedom comes responsibility. Make wise choices."

As they stepped out into the morning light, the absence of the guards felt surreal to Y/N. The world seemed wider, brighter, filled with possibilities that were previously clouded by the shadows of surveillance.

"Can you believe this, Maya?" Y/N asked, her voice a mix of elation and apprehension. "A whole month of freedom. It feels like I can finally breathe."

Maya linked her arm with Y/N's, sharing in her friend's newfound liberation. "Let's make the most of it. Starting with a shopping trip that doesn't involve sneaking around our own shadows."

They entered, the familiar jingle of the doorbell was like music to their ears, but it was the sight of Hyunjin and Felix that truly caught their attention. The unexpected encounter sent a thrill through Y/N, their eyes meeting across the room.

As Y/N and Maya placed their order, a silent exchange of glances between Y/N and Hyunjin sparked a flutter of anticipation. Maya, ever the keen observer, nudged Y/N playfully. "Looks like someone's happy to see you," she teased, her voice low but filled with mirth.

Encouraged by Felix's subtle prompting, Hyunjin approached them, his heart racing with a cocktail of nerves and eagerness. Adjusting his mask to partially conceal his scar, he offered a greeting that bridged the distance between them.

"Hey, didn't expect to run into you here," he said, his voice carrying a hint of warmth and uncertainty.

Y/N, caught in the unexpected moment, responded with a smile. "Yeah, it's a nice surprise," she managed, her heart echoing Hyunjin's nervousness.

Noticing the absence of Y/N's guards, Felix chimed in with a cheerful grin. "Looks like you're enjoying a bit of freedom today. Care to join us?" His eyes sparkled with the offer, inviting them into their world outside the circus.

Agreeing, they took their drinks and joined Felix and Hyunjin at their table, the arrangement of seats placing Y/N directly across from Hyunjin, and Maya opposite Felix. In a gesture of casual politeness, Felix placed his cap on the table's corner.

Hyunjin, with a hesitant motion, slid his mask just under his chin, exposing his scar to the ordinary world beyond the circus tent. It was a rare show of openness, one that he reserved for the stage or the safety of the circus family. Yet, here he was, revealing his vulnerabilities to Y/N in a setting far removed from the spotlights and applause. Felix, ever the conversationalist, took a moment from savoring his drink to delve into a topic that had piqued his interest since their arrival.

"So, how does it feel? Not having the guards shadowing your every move?" Felix inquired, his gaze fixed on Y/N, genuinely curious about her newfound freedom.

Y/N paused, allowing herself to truly consider the question. "It feels... liberating," she began, her voice laced with a sense of relief and wonder. "There's this lightness I hadn't realized I was missing until now. To move freely, without constant surveillance—it's like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long."

Felix nodded, absorbing her words, then turned his attention to Maya. "And what about you? Did your family ever consider guards?" he asked, keen to understand the dynamics that shaped their experiences.

Maya chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No, nothing like that. My family's protective, sure, but not to the extent of Y/N's. I guess I've always taken my freedom for granted. Seeing what Y/N's been through, it does make me feel a bit guilty for not appreciating it more," she admitted, her tone tinged with empathy.

The conversation veered into the territory of parental protection, with Felix sharing his thoughts on the delicate balance between safeguarding loved ones and allowing them the space to grow. "It's a tricky line to walk," he mused. "Wanting to keep someone safe while also giving them the freedom to explore and make their own mistakes."

As Felix and Maya engaged in a lively discussion on various topics ranging from their favorite music to places they'd love to visit, Hyunjin found himself more attuned to Y/N, his gaze frequently drifting her way. Each time their eyes met, a wave of warmth washed over him, her shy smile sending his heart racing.

Y/N, for her part, felt a flutter of excitement each time she caught Hyunjin looking at her. There was something about the way he saw her—not as someone to be shielded and kept at arm's length, but as a person, vibrant and full of life. His attention made her feel seen, truly seen, in a way she hadn't experienced before.

At one point, amidst the chatter, Hyunjin seized a quiet moment to express his admiration. "You know, Y/N, there's something about you," he began, his voice soft but earnest. "Even with all the restrictions you've faced, you've managed to retain this... purity, this innocence. It's refreshing."

Y/N blushed at his words, a mix of bashfulness and delight swirling within her. "Thank you, Hyunjin. It's strange, but being here with you all, I feel like I'm finally getting a chance to just be myself. To let my guard down and not worry about who's watching."

Hyunjin smiled, his eyes conveying a depth of understanding. "That's all any of us can hope for, isn't it? To be ourselves, without fear or restraint. You shine, Y/N, especially now, free from those shadows."

As the hours slipped by, their conversation meandered through dreams and aspirations, fears and joys, each revelation drawing them closer. The café became a sanctuary where they could share pieces of themselves, building connections that transcended the ordinary. As they stepped out into the bustling streets, the atmosphere of the café lingering like a warm embrace, Y/N and Maya shared a moment of silent understanding. The encounters of the day had woven a thread of connection that felt both exhilarating and comforting.

"Today was something special, wasn't it?" Maya mused, her arm linked with Y/N's as they navigated the lively city around them. The freedom that Y/N experienced, unburdened by the watchful eyes of her guards, added a lightness to their steps.

"It really was," Y/N agreed, her mind replaying the conversations, the laughter, and the shared moments of vulnerability. The café had become a crucible for friendships that felt as if they'd been simmering for ages.

Maya, unable to contain her curiosity, let out a soft giggle. "You know, Hyunjin seemed... particularly interested in you. Did you notice the way he was looking at you?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at the mention. "I might have noticed," she confessed, a shy smile playing on her lips. "There's just something about him. His perspective on life, his passion for the circus... it resonates with me. And, well, it doesn't hurt that he's quite handsome."

Maya nudged her playfully. "Quite handsome? That's an understatement! But I get it; it's more than just looks. You two seemed to really connect on a deeper level."

Y/N nodded, her heart still fluttering at the thought. "Yeah, we did. It's funny how you can meet someone and just instantly feel a bond, isn't it? His views, his dreams... they align with mine in a way I didn't expect. And being able to share that, even for a short while, felt... freeing."

The conversation drifted to dreams and aspirations, to the paths they wished to carve out for themselves. "What do you think the future holds?" Maya asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and hope.

Y/N pondered the question, the possibilities unfolding like a roadmap in her mind. "I hope it's filled with more days like today. Freedom to explore, to connect, to really live. And maybe... just maybe, to find out where these new friendships might lead."

As the sun began to dip below the skyline, casting a golden hue over the city, Y/N and Maya's steps took them closer to home. The promise of tomorrow, of future encounters, and the potential for something more with Hyunjin filled Y/N with a sense of anticipation she hadn't felt before.

"Let's make a pact," Maya suggested, squeezing Y/N's arm gently. "To always pursue this feeling of freedom, to keep exploring and opening our hearts to new experiences. Who knows where it might lead us?"

Y/N smiled, her heart full. "I'm in," she said, the pact sealing a promise not just to each other, but to themselves.

To chase the freedom they'd tasted today, to nurture the connections they'd made, and to embrace whatever adventures lay on the horizon. As Hyunjin and Felix made their way back to the circus, a quietness had settled over Hyunjin, a reflective silence that wasn't lost on Felix. The usually vibrant streets they walked through seemed to mirror Hyunjin's introspective mood, prompting Felix to break the silence between them.

"Hey," Felix began, his voice tinged with concern, nudging Hyunjin gently. "You've been awfully quiet. This isn't like you. What's on your mind?"

Hyunjin let out a sigh, his thoughts swirling with images of Y/N, their interactions both at the circus and the café playing on repeat in his mind. "It's just... ever since that first performance, when I chose her from the crowd and gave her those flowers, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her," he admitted, his voice low.

Felix raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. "Ah, so it's Y/N that's got you all tangled up in thoughts, huh? I noticed the way you two were today. There's something special there, isn't there?"

Hyunjin couldn't help but smile at the memory of their recent encounter, the ease of their conversation, and the undeniable connection he felt. "Yeah, there is. It's strange, Felix. I've met countless people through the circus, but with Y/N, it's different. There's this... genuine curiosity and understanding. And today, without the guards around, it was like seeing her in a new light."

Felix chuckled, clapping Hyunjin on the back. "I saw that. You two were in your little world. But, Hyunjin, this is good, isn't it? It's rare to find someone who resonates with you on such a level."

Hyunjin nodded, a mix of apprehension and excitement in his heart. "It is good. I just don't know what to do next. I mean, her father is so protective, and then there's the circus. Our worlds are so different."

"True, our worlds are different," Felix agreed, his tone turning thoughtful. "But isn't that the beauty of it? The circus has always been about bringing together the unlikely, about creating magic from the unexpected. Maybe it's not about the differences in your worlds, but about what you bring to each other's lives."

Hyunjin considered Felix's words, the wisdom in them clear. "You're right, Felix. I've been so caught up in how different our lives are that I almost forgot the essence of what we do—connecting with people, no matter where they come from."

Felix smiled, his eyes alight with encouragement. "Exactly. So, what are you going to do about it? You can't let this connection just fade into a 'what if,' Hyunjin."

Hyunjin took a deep breath, a newfound resolve taking shape. "I'm going to see her again. I want to explore this connection, see where it might lead. I can't promise it'll be easy, but I have to try."

As they reached the circus, the air filled with the familiar sounds and smells of their otherworldly home, both performers knew they were stepping back into their roles, but with a slight shift in their perspectives. For Hyunjin, the encounter with Y/N had opened up a realm of possibilities, a chance to bridge the gap between the grandeur of the circus and the simplicity of genuine human connection.

Felix, seeing the determination in Hyunjin's eyes, clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! Remember, the circus isn't just about the acts we perform; it's about the lives we touch. And maybe, just maybe, it's about the hearts we connect with along the way."

With the circus tents rising before them, both performers felt a renewed sense of purpose. For Hyunjin, it was the promise of pursuing something real, something beyond the sparkle and spectacle. The excitement in the air was palpable as Y/N stepped outside, the setting sun casting long shadows on the ground. Maya, brimming with enthusiasm, awaited her arrival. But before they could revel in their anticipation, Y/N's father's stern voice sliced through the evening calm.

"Y/N, remember to be careful," he called out, his tone as cold and sharp as ever. "And I expect you straight home after the show. No dallying."

Y/N nodded, a tight smile on her face. "I will, Dad. I promise," she responded, her voice carrying a mix of reassurance and the slightest hint of defiance. With a final glance back, she joined Maya, and they set off for the circus, the promise of an unforgettable night ahead.

Upon their arrival, Bang Chan greeted them with his characteristic warmth, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Y/N sans her usual entourage. "Ah, Y/N! Flying solo tonight?" he remarked with a grin, taking their tickets.

"It feels strange but good," Y/N admitted, her smile genuine. "It's a new kind of freedom."

Bang Chan nodded, understandingly. "Enjoy the show, you two. It's going to be a special one."

They found their seats at the front, the anticipation building as the circus came to life around them. The comedy act with Jeongin and Felix was a hit, their clown-like costumes barely concealing the talent and charisma that had the audience in stitches. Felix's occasional glances toward Maya didn't go unnoticed by Y/N, who leaned over to whisper, "Looks like someone's got a fan."

Maya blushed, her eyes flitting between Felix and the stage. "Do you think so? He's really funny... and kind of cute."

Y/N giggled, nodding. "Definitely. There's something there, I can tell."

The laughter and light-hearted banter continued until Jeongin, in his boundless energy, approached Y/N and invited her onto the stage. The spontaneity of the moment, the thrill of being part of the act, was exhilarating.

Lee Know's performance followed, his new song touching hearts and drawing tears with its beauty and emotional depth. Y/N found herself moved by the music, the lyrics resonating with a part of her that yearned for adventure and connection.

But it was Hyunjin's act that captivated her entirely. The ring of fire, his all-black attire, and the way he commanded the flames—it was mesmerizing. His gaze found hers during the performance, a smirk playing on his lips, sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N's heart raced, her cheeks flushed with a warmth that was new and thrilling.

As the act concluded, the audience erupted in applause, the performers backstage joining in the celebration of Hyunjin's triumph. Backstage, the camaraderie was palpable, Felix nudging Hyunjin with a knowing grin, "Did you see Y/N's reaction? She was completely spellbound."

Hyunjin, unable to hide his smile, peered past the curtain, catching Y/N animatedly discussing the performance with Maya. It was a sight that warmed his heart, the connection between them undeniable.

As the audience began to disperse, Y/N and Maya made their way toward the exit, only for Y/N to feel a gentle yet firm hand on her waist. Startled, she turned to find Hyunjin standing close behind her, his presence sending her heart into a flutter.

"Come with me," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, inviting her backstage. Y/N, caught off guard by his closeness and the unexpected invitation, could only nod, her cheeks aflame.

Meanwhile, Felix approached Maya with a casual ease, "How about joining us backstage? I think you've earned a closer look at how the magic happens."

As they ventured backstage, the vibrant life behind the circus unfolded before Y/N and Maya, a world unseen by the audience. Hyunjin, with a subtle touch, guided Y/N through the bustling area, his hand resting lightly on her waist, a gesture of guidance rather than possession. They were shown the intricacies of circus life: the large field dotted with tents, each serving a unique purpose—from dining to sleeping quarters. Y/N's eyes widened in awe; this nomadic lifestyle was new to her, every detail fascinating.

"It's like a whole other world back here," Y/N remarked, her voice filled with wonder.

Hyunjin smiled at her reaction. "It's our world, one we're proud to call home. Every tent has a story, every face a journey."

Unnoticed by Y/N, Felix had subtly drawn Maya aside, offering them a moment of privacy. It was only when Hyunjin stopped outside a particularly cozy-looking tent that Y/N realized they were alone. Her heart skipped a beat, not just from the thrill of the new environment but from the proximity to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his eyes— one scarred and the other a deep brown—locking onto hers with an intensity that took her breath away.

Without hesitation, Y/N nodded again. There was something in his gaze that made her feel safe, even here, on the edge of the unknown.

He smiled, a genuine, heartwarming smile, and gently pulled back the tent flap. "Come on, then. Let's escape the cold for a bit."

The tent was surprisingly cozy, filled with warm blankets and soft lights that cast a golden glow on everything. Hyunjin looked different here, the shadows playing off his costume, giving him an almost mystical appearance.

"Y/N," he called softly, bringing her attention back to him. She turned, finding him closer than she expected, his presence overwhelming in the best way.

"Yes?" Her reply came out as more of a whisper, her heart racing as he stepped even closer.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the world outside fading away. Then, with a tenderness that made her heart swell, Hyunjin cupped her cheeks in his hands. Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation, then opened again to meet his gaze, her own drifting to his lips, whispering his name in anticipation. The moment their lips met, Y/N felt a surge of emotion, a mix of nervousness and excitement. She responded instinctively, her hands finding their way to his shirt, clutching it for grounding as the kiss deepened. It was a discovery for both of them, exploring a connection they hadn't dared to acknowledge until now. Her soft moan was a testament to the intensity of their feelings, a silent plea for more of this newfound affection. In the intimate cocoon of Hyunjin's tent, the world outside ceased to exist, replaced by a realm of newfound emotions and unspoken promises. The connection between Hyunjin and Y/N deepened with each shared breath, their earlier conversations and laughter giving way to a silence filled with anticipation and desire. Hyunjin's hands, once cradling Y/N's face with tender care, now rested on her waist, drawing her closer, sealing the space between them. Y/N, responding to the unspoken invitation, wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips meeting in a kiss that spoke of longing, discovery, and a fearless dive into the depths of their connection.

'If my father knew about this...' Y/N's thought trailed off, lost in the whirlwind of emotions Hyunjin stirred within her. Yet, the fear of her father's wrath paled in comparison to the magnetic pull she felt towards Hyunjin. In that moment, her need for him eclipsed all else.

Breaking the kiss, Hyunjin gazed into her eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. The intensity in his gaze sent shivers through her, a testament to the gravity of what was unfolding. It was her turn now, her response fueled by an urgency that matched his own, their kisses growing more passionate, more insistent.

Hyunjin's groan vibrated through them, a sound that heightened the electricity in the air. Gently, he laid Y/N down, his body hovering over hers, a protective and yet vulnerable gesture. The world narrowed down to the space they shared, every touch, every breath, amplifying the connection that tethered them together.

As Hyunjin's lips found her neck, Y/N trembled, the sensation igniting sparks along her skin. His hands, both gentle and urgent, pulled her closer, their bodies speaking a language older than words. In that moment, Y/N felt seen, understood, and cherished.

"Are you okay?" Hyunjin's voice, soft and concerned, broke through the haze of her arousal.

"Yes," Y/N breathed, her voice a whisper of trust and desire. "I want this, Hyunjin. I want you."

Their conversation became a symphony of sighs and murmurs, each word, each touch, weaving a deeper connection. Hyunjin moved with a reverence that belied the passion simmering beneath the surface, each movement deliberate, each pause filled with the weight of unspoken promises. The heat between them built, a crescendo of sensation and emotion that threatened to overwhelm yet felt achingly right. Y/N clung to Hyunjin, her grip a testament to the intensity of her feelings, the novelty of the experience etching itself into her memory. As they moved together, lost in the moment, their voices filled the tent, a testament to the depth of their connection. Hyunjin's movements quickened, each kiss, each touch, pushing them closer to the edge of something profound. Y/N's soft cry, a mixture of surprise and delight, melded with Hyunjin's restrained curse, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The world outside, with its rules and judgments, faded into insignificance, replaced by the undeniable truth of their connection. When the moment came, it was with a sense of completion, a shared breath that spoke of unity and discovery. Hyunjin's movement, a gentle caress, served as a soft epilogue to their symphony of sighs and whispers. Laying beside Y/N, he wrapped an arm around her, a silent vow of protection and care.

"Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"Thank you for showing me your world," Y/N replied, her own voice laced with gratitude.

After sharing a moment of quiet intimacy, Y/N and Hyunjin were gently pulled back to reality by the distant sound of their friends' voices. Felix and Maya's muffled calls seemed to echo through the thick fabric of the tent, a reminder of the world waiting outside their secluded haven.

Hyunjin's hand paused in its tender motion along Y/N's arms, and they shared a look of amused surprise before breaking into soft laughter. "Sounds like we've been missed," Hyunjin whispered, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Yeah, I guess it's time to face the music," Y/N replied, her voice a mix of reluctance and anticipation for rejoining their friends.

With a mutual understanding, they began to ready themselves to leave the tent. Hyunjin stood first, offering Y/N a hand to help her up. "Let me help you," he said, as they navigated the small space with an ease born of newfound closeness.

As they stepped out into the cooler night air, they found Felix and Maya waiting with their backs to the tent, engrossed in their own conversation. Hyunjin and Y/N exchanged a glance, a silent agreement to try and act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, despite the residual glow of their shared moment.

"Hey, you two," Felix called out, turning around with a grin. "We were starting to think you'd run off to join another circus."

Maya laughed, linking her arm with Y/N's. "Did you enjoy the grand tour?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It was... enlightening," Y/N managed to say, her cheeks warming at the memory of the evening's more personal moments.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, stepping forward. "It was our pleasure to show you around."

Felix nodded in agreement, then pulled out his phone. "Let me get you a taxi. It's getting late, and we wouldn't want to keep you out too long."

The taxi arrived shortly, and after heartfelt goodbyes, Y/N and Maya climbed inside, leaving the circus and its enchantment behind. As the car pulled away, Felix turned to Hyunjin, the smirk on his face impossible to miss.

He clapped Hyunjin on the shoulder, "Seems like you've cast quite the spell tonight," he remarked, a hint of brotherly teasing in his voice.

Hyunjin simply smiled, a look of contentment on his face. "Tonight was special," he admitted, his thoughts lingering on Y/N's smile and the promise of what might lie ahead.

As they parted ways for the night, each carrying their own thoughts and feelings about the evening, the magic of the circus seemed to linger in the air, a reminder of the connections made and the moments shared.

The ride back was filled with whispered conversations and shared laughter, Maya playfully nudging Y/N. "So, a different kind of magic, huh?" she teased, her voice low enough for only Y/N to hear.

Y/N's response was a mix of embarrassment and happiness. "Let's just say the circus has more wonders than I ever imagined," she whispered back, her gaze lost in the memories of the night.

Hyunjin awoke with the lingering warmth of the previous night's memories, a gentle smile curving his lips. As he rose from his bed, a newfound sense of self-assurance enveloped him. Standing before the mirror, he regarded his reflection with fresh eyes. The scar across his left eye, once a source of insecurity, now seemed to him a mark of his unique story, one that Y/N had seen beauty in.

"She saw beyond it," Hyunjin mused aloud, the realization that Y/N accepted him wholly bringing a light to his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Dressing quickly, he stepped out, ready to face the day, only to encounter Seungmin, Minho, and Bang Chan waiting outside. Bang Chan's eyebrow arched inquisitively, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So, Hyunjin, how was your evening with our favorite audience member?" he teased, the amusement clear in his voice.

Hyunjin's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, the unexpected question catching him off guard. Seungmin and Minho couldn't contain their laughter at Hyunjin's embarrassment, further adding to the playful atmosphere.

Seungmin, trying to catch his breath between laughs, managed to say, "Felix might have mentioned something about a backstage tour last night. Spill the details, Hyunjin!"

Hyunjin, now thoroughly embarrassed but also filled with the happiness of shared moments, tried to deflect. "It was nothing out of the ordinary, just showing them around, you know?"

Minho, still chuckling, nudged Hyunjin playfully. "Come on, you can tell us more. We're your brothers, aren't we? Was it magical?"

Bang Chan, always the leader, stepped in with a smile. "Alright, let's give Hyunjin a break. But, it's good to see you happy, Hyunjin. This place... it's not just about the performances we put on. It's about the connections we make, the lives we touch."

Hyunjin, feeling the support and camaraderie of his friends, nodded, a genuine smile returning to his face. "Thanks, guys. Last night was special, not just because of the tour. It was... it felt right, being with Y/N, showing her our world."

The group shared a moment of understanding, recognizing the significance of Hyunjin's words. Seungmin clapped Hyunjin on the shoulder, "Well, we're happy for you. Who knows, maybe there's more magic to come."

As they continued with their morning routines, the conversation shifted to the day's performances, but Hyunjin's thoughts remained with Y/N. As Y/N floated through the house, her steps light and her heart full, the melody of her humming filled the air, a sweet testament to her blissful state. The memory of the previous night with Hyunjin played on repeat in her mind, bringing a radiant smile to her face that she couldn't contain.

The household staff—cleaners, chefs, and guards—all paused in their duties to watch her, a rare sight of such unbridled joy. They exchanged knowing looks, attributing her happiness to the newfound freedom she'd been granted, unaware of the true source of her elation.

Even the family butler, usually so reserved and stoic, couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight of Y/N's happiness. It was as if her joy was infectious, spreading warmth throughout the grand, often too-silent, house.

Her mother, entering the living room, found herself momentarily taken aback by the scene. Watching her daughter twirl and dance around the room, she felt a surge of affection and a deep gratitude for seeing Y/N so genuinely happy. With a tender smile, she called out to her daughter, her voice soft yet clear. "Y/N, my dear, what has gotten into you today?"

Y/N came to a graceful stop, her smile unwavering as she faced her mother. "Oh, Mom," she sighed, her eyes sparkling with the remnants of last night's magic. "It's just been a wonderful couple of days."

Her mother walked closer, intrigued and delighted by her daughter's demeanor. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your visit to the circus, would it?" she teased gently, a twinkle in her own eye.

Y/N blushed, the mention of the circus bringing back a flood of vivid memories. "Maybe," she admitted, her voice a whisper of excitement. "There's just something about that place... and the people there. It's like they've shown me a whole new world."

Her mother took her hands, leading her to sit on one of the plush sofas in the room. "Tell me everything, Y/N. Who is 'they'? And what has made you see the world so differently?" Her curiosity was piqued, not just by her daughter's joy, but by the hint of something deeper, a connection perhaps yet unspoken.

Y/N, taking a deep breath, began to recount her experiences at the circus, from the breathtaking performances to the magical behind-the-scenes tour. She spoke of Hyunjin with a warmth and fondness that couldn't be masked, detailing their shared moments with a shy enthusiasm.

As Y/N spoke, her mother listened intently, absorbing every detail. It was clear that this wasn't just a fleeting moment of happiness; something significant had touched her daughter's heart. "Hyunjin sounds like a remarkable young man," her mother observed, her words thoughtful, encouraging Y/N to open up further.

Y/N's voice trembled with excitement as she recounted her experiences, her mother's attentive gaze encouraging her to open up more than she ever had before.

"Mom, Hyunjin... he's just incredible. The way he performs, it's like he's telling a story, inviting us into his world," Y/N shared, her hands animatedly moving in the air.

Her mother, intrigued, leaned in. "It sounds like he's quite the performer. And it seems like he's made a special impression on you?"

Blushing, Y/N nodded. "Yes, but it's more than that. He's kind, genuine, and... he sees the world in such a unique way. It's refreshing."

Seeing her daughter so vibrant, her mother couldn't help but smile. "I'm happy for you, Y/N. It's beautiful to see you so passionate about something...someone."

The mention of someone brought a hint of concern to Y/N's voice. "But, Mom, what about Dad? You know how he feels about the circus, and if he finds out about Hyunjin..."

Her mother sighed, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "We'll deal with your father together. The most important thing is your happiness, Y/N. We can't live our lives based on fear."

"But how can we convince him? He's never going to understand," Y/N's worry was palpable, her newfound joy shadowed by the prospect of her father's disapproval.

Her mother reached out, taking Y/N's hands in hers. "Let me worry about your father. Maybe it's time he saw the circus through your eyes. Perhaps if he understands what it means to you, he might see things differently."

Y/N looked up, hope mingling with surprise. "You think that could work? That he might actually listen?"

"It's worth a try. And I'll be right there with you. We'll show him that the circus, that Hyunjin, has brought you something special — joy, inspiration. Things every parent wants for their child," her mother said firmly, her resolve clear.

Y/N felt a weight lift off her shoulders, her mother's support giving her strength. "Thank you, Mom. For believing in me, for standing by me."

They shared a warm embrace, the morning light wrapping around them like a cocoon of hope and love. "Together, we'll face whatever comes. Your dreams are worth fighting for," her mother whispered.

As the anticipation built, Hyunjin found himself scanning the crowd for a familiar face, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing Y/N again. After the closeness they'd shared, every moment away from her felt like an eternity. He adjusted his magician's attire, trying to calm the flutter in his stomach.

Chanbin noticed Hyunjin's unease and clapped him on the back, a smirk on his face. "Nervous, are we? She'll be here, don't worry," he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Meanwhile, Y/N and her family were making their way to the circus, a mix of excitement and apprehension in the air. Y/N's mother, beaming with support, squeezed her hand reassuringly, while her father's presence loomed quietly, his skepticism a silent shadow.

As they approached the entrance, Y/N's grip on the tickets tightened, her excitement tempered by the weight of what this night meant. Bang Chan's eyes sparkled with recognition as he saw Y/N, but his usual warm greeting was tempered by the sight of her parents.

"Welcome," he said, his voice carrying a professional edge, as he collected their tickets.

Finding their seats at the front, Y/N took a deep breath, her mother's excitement infectious, her father's indifference a challenge she hoped to overcome by the night's end. The lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of the show, and Bang Chan's voice filled the tent, welcoming the audience to a world of wonder.

The opening act was a vibrant display of song and dance, the main eight performers taking the stage with an energy that was both infectious and inspiring. As they sang "Welcome to my home," their unique scars were displayed not as flaws but as badges of honor, a testament to their resilience and spirit. Seungmin's burn, I.N's playful yet intense demeanor, Felix's captivating eyes, Jisung's mysterious eyepatch, Lee Know's graceful movements despite his prosthetic leg, Bang Chan's strength despite his prosthetic arm, Chanbin's chest scar, and Hyunjin's scarred and blind left eye — each performer shone, their differences making the performance all the more beautiful.

From the stage, Hyunjin's gaze found Y/N, a subtle acknowledgment passing between them. He noted the older couple with her, their presence making him cautious in his expressions of recognition. While Y/N and her mother were caught up in the magic of the performance, her father remained impassive, his expression unreadable.

During a brief interlude, Y/N leaned over to her mother, whispering excitedly, "This is it, Mom. This is the magic I was telling you about."

Her mother, equally captivated, whispered back, "It's incredible, Y/N. I see it now, the joy, the passion. It's all so...real."

Her father, overhearing the exchange, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the stage, the performers' energy challenging his preconceptions. As the show continued, each act unfolding with more spectacle and wonder, Y/N felt a mix of emotions. Pride for the performers she'd come to admire, hope for her mother's newfound appreciation, and a lingering concern for her father's reaction.

The show unfolded with an array of stunning performances, each unique and captivating. Y/N leaned toward her mother, whispering with excitement, "Mom, look, this one's new. I haven't seen it before!"

Her mother smiled, equally engrossed. "It's wonderful, Y/N. Every act is a surprise."

On stage, Jeongin, in his comedic clown act with Felix, tried once again to summon a bouquet of flowers. Instead, a bundle of twigs with a few petals appeared in his hands. He approached a lady in the front row, presenting the twigs with a theatrical bow and a wide, infectious smile. The audience chuckled as Felix quipped a witty remark and playfully bonked Jeongin on the head with a juggling club, their chemistry undeniable. Lee Know then took the stage, his voice carrying a beautiful melody, accompanied by dancers and acrobats. The performance was mesmerizing, drawing applause and admiration from the crowd. Chanbin's lion taming act followed, as impressive as ever, demonstrating an incredible bond and command over the majestic animal. Seungmin and Jisung showcased their acrobatic skills, performing a unique dance that combined ground movements and aerial feats, leaving the audience spellbound. Then it was time for Hyunjin's magic act. Darker and more intense than usual, it captivated everyone, drawing them into a world of mystery and intrigue. After performing a classic flower summoning trick that always pleased the crowd, Hyunjin prepared for something more interactive. He sought a volunteer, and as numerous hands shot up, whispers of his attractiveness and talent filled the air. Y/N, heart racing, timidly raised her hand. Hyunjin's eyes scanned the eager audience before playfully gesturing to the raised hands and finally settling on Y/N. A hush fell over the crowd as he approached her, offering a bow and an outstretched hand. Y/N, with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, took his hand and stood.

Her father's and mother's breaths hitched, the tension palpable. Hyunjin, sensing their concern, turned to assure them with a confident smile, "She's in good hands, I promise."

Leading Y/N into the center of the circle, Hyunjin prepared for the trick, the audience watching in anticipation. Y/N's mother leaned over to her husband, whispering, "See? It's all in good fun. She's safe with him."

Her father, still rigid, nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Y/N and Hyunjin. The magic trick unfolded, with Hyunjin guiding Y/N through each step, their interaction seamless and filled with light-hearted banter that put everyone at ease, even her father.

As the act concluded to resounding applause, Y/N returned to her seat, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "That was incredible, Y/N!" her mother exclaimed, hugging her. As the final act of the circus came to a close, the vibrant energy of the evening began to wane, replaced by a quiet sense of anticipation. Y/N glanced between her mother, whose eyes sparkled with a revived passion for the performing arts, and her father, whose expression remained a stoic mask, giving nothing away.

Walking back to the car, Y/N tried to gauge her father's thoughts. "Did you enjoy the show, Dad?" she ventured, hoping for some sign of approval.

Her father remained silent until they were safely ensconced in their car, driving away from the circus. It was her mother who broke the silence first, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "Oh, Y/N, that was simply wonderful! It reminded me of my days in the theater. The passion, the creativity... it's all so inspiring!"

Y/N smiled, warmed by her mother's words, but the cold silence from her father chilled the air. As they arrived home, the tension was palpable. Y/N lingered, waiting for her father to speak.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice stern and final. "I did not approve of what I saw tonight. That place...it's not right for you, Y/N."

Her heart sank. "But Dad, the circus is amazing! It's full of art and beauty and..."

He cut her off sharply. "It has corrupted your judgment. It's childish and a bad influence. Those performers...they're not the sort of people we associate with. They're...different."

Y/N's mother interjected, trying to mediate. "Dear, maybe we should talk about this calmly. Y/N has found something she truly loves..."

Her father was unyielding. "No. I've made up my mind. Starting tomorrow, the guards will be back by your side, Y/N. You are no longer allowed to visit the circus or see that magician. This nonsense ends now."

Y/N felt as if the ground had been pulled from under her. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Dad, please...you don't understand. Hyunjin, the circus, they've shown me so much. It's not what you think."

“Enough!" His voice boomed, echoing through the hall, causing the household staff to glance their way, worry etched on their faces.

Her mother reached out, a soothing hand on Y/N's shoulder, but the damage was done. "Go to your room, Y/N," her father ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Heartbroken, Y/N fled, the echo of her father's decree haunting her. As she reached her sanctuary, tears streamed down her face, the magic of the evening tarnished by her father's words. In her room, Y/N felt a world away from the joy and acceptance she'd experienced at the circus. The thought of never seeing Hyunjin again, of never being part of that magical world, filled her with despair.

Her mother soon knocked gently on her door. "Y/N? Can I come in?"

Y/N wiped her tears. "Yes, Mom."

Her mother entered, sitting beside her on the bed. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'll talk to him, I promise. We'll find a way through this."

Y/N's world had grown smaller, each day bleeding into the next under the watchful eyes of her guards. Her heart, once alight with dreams of the circus and whispers of love, now felt heavy with unshed tears and words left unsaid.

"I just... I love him, Mom," Y/N sobbed into her mother's embrace, the confession spilling from her in a desperate whisper. Her mother, her heart breaking for her daughter, held her tight, offering silent strength and understanding.

Maya, ever the loyal friend, tried to pierce the veil of Y/N's isolation with her presence. But the sight of the guards, a constant reminder of Y/N's shackles, dimmed her usual vibrant spirit. "We'll find a way through this," she murmured, wrapping an arm around Y/N, though the path forward seemed obscured by shadows.

Hyunjin, on the other side of the city, felt a void where Y/N's presence used to be. "Has anyone seen her? It's been weeks," he asked, his voice echoing the confusion and hurt that had taken residence in his heart. The performers, too, felt the absence of their bright, regular audience member. "Y/N always said her father was protective, but this...," Felix trailed off, the situation leaving a bitter taste.

As Y/N retreated further into her isolation, Maya's attempts to bridge the gap were met with a door closed by fear and a father's decree. Y/N's world narrowed to the confines of her room, her spirit dimming with each passing day. Then, a day came when laughter, so rare in their home, drew Y/N from her solitude. Curiosity leading her, she found her father in the company of strangers — the Choi family. The introduction to Soobin, a young man who seemed as out of place as she felt, was punctuated by an awkward politeness.

It was the mention of marriage by Mrs. Choi that sliced through the polite façade, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. "Marriage?" Y/N echoed, her voice a mix of disbelief and rising panic. Soobin's sigh, laden with resignation, mirrored her own turmoil.

Her father, oblivious to her shock, beamed with pride. "Yes, marriage. It's high time you settled down, Y/N. The Choi family is respectable, and Soobin here is a fine young man."

Y/N's mother, caught off guard, shot her husband a look of surprise and concern. "But this is so sudden. Y/N, we haven't discussed..."

"We've made the decision for her best interest," her father interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Maya, who had managed to slip in unnoticed, exchanged a worried glance with Y/N. "Y/N, you can't let them do this to you," she whispered urgently.

Y/N, her mind racing, felt trapped. The thought of a life dictated by her father's will, devoid of the love and freedom she yearned for, tightened around her heart like a vice.

As the room swirled around her, Y/N's thoughts flew to Hyunjin, to the magic and love she'd found in his presence. In that moment, amidst the talk of arranged marriages and futures not her own, Y/N realized the true cost of her silence.

"I won't do this," Y/N found her voice, her resolve hardening. "I won't marry someone I don't love. My heart... it belongs to someone else."

The room's atmosphere was thick with tension as Y/N stood defiantly, her declaration not just a plea for her love but a staunch defense of her freedom. Her father, face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment, rebuked her sharply. "Y/N, silence!" he demanded, the room falling deathly quiet at his command. "In front of our guests, you speak of such nonsense? You will marry into the Choi family, and that's final. Forget this magician and his circus. It's for your own good."

Soobin, up until now a silent observer of the unfolding family drama, showed a spark of interest at the mention of the circus. "The circus?" he inquired, an intrigued look crossing his features.

His parents, momentarily distracted from the confrontation, lit up at the mention. "Oh, we've always adored the circus," Soobin's mother said, her tone suddenly lively. "Such a fascinating world of talent and dreams."

"And Felix," Soobin's father added with a smile, "he's a remarkable performer there. Met Soobin after a show, and they've been friends since."

At the mention of Felix, Maya's face flushed a deep shade of red, her eyes darting between Soobin and Y/N. "You know Felix?" she blurted out, her voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and something akin to excitement.

Soobin nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yes, our friendship formed in the most unexpected of places. His passion for the circus, his art... it's truly inspiring. It's a world where creativity and passion flourish."

Seizing the momentary shift in the conversation, Y/N turned to her parents, her voice imbued with a mixture of hope and desperation. "See? The circus isn't just frivolity. It's about dedication, artistry... it's where I feel most alive. Hyunjin, Felix, and everyone there, they're not just performers; they're family."

Her mother, visibly moved by Y/N's passionate defense, sought to mediate. "Perhaps we've been too quick to judge," she said softly, her gaze pleading with her husband.

Y/N's father, however, remained unmoved, his face a mask of disapproval. "Y/N, your involvement with the circus and this magician... it's not the future we envisioned for you."

Soobin, sensing an opportunity to ease the tension, offered a thoughtful suggestion. "Understanding and seeing are two different things. Maybe there's merit in experiencing the world Y/N speaks of so fondly."

The room grew silent, the idea hanging in the balance. Y/N's father, after a tense pause, shook his head. "Our decision stands. Y/N, your future lies with the Choi family. This discussion is over."

Y/N, her heart sinking, looked between her parents, the finality in her father's voice dashing any hope of reconciliation. "But I love him," she whispered, a last desperate plea.

Her father's response was cold, uncompromising. "Your feelings for this... magician are irrelevant. You'll see, in time, this is for the best."

Maya, standing beside Y/N, squeezed her friend's hand in silent support. The mention of Felix had briefly illuminated a path to understanding, but Y/N's father's decision cast a long shadow over their hopes.

In the quiet aftermath of the day, the [Last Name] residence stood imposingly under the waning sun. Maya, with a determined stride, was the first to exit, her mind racing with plans and worries. Inside, Y/N retreated to the solace of her room, a sanctuary from the storm brewing in her life.

Mrs. [Last Name], after ensuring the Choi family was well on their way, turned to Soobin with a plea that carried the weight of a mother's love and desperation. "Soobin," she began, her voice steady yet imbued with urgency, "I need your help. My daughter... she's being forced into a life she doesn't want. She loves someone else—Hyunjin. We need to get her out, to give her the freedom to be with the one she truly loves. Can I count on you?"

Soobin, a mixture of surprise and empathy shadowing his features, nodded solemnly. "Mrs. [Last Name], I had no idea. Of course, you can count on me. It's clear Y/N and Hyunjin mean a lot to each other. I'll do whatever I can to help."

Unbeknownst to them, Maya, who had lingered near the entrance, overheard the conversation. Stepping forward, her resolve shone brightly. "I'm here too. Y/N is my best friend, and I'll do anything to help her be happy."

Mr. and Mrs. Choi, having paused at the doorstep, turned at Maya's declaration. Their expressions softened, regret coloring their features. "We came under the impression that Y/N was aware and agreeable to this arrangement," Mr. Choi admitted, his voice laced with disappointment. "To hear this...it's not something we can support. Love should be the foundation of marriage, not obligation."

Mrs. Choi added, "Our son deserves happiness, but not at the cost of another's freedom. We stand with Y/N in her choice."

With a newfound alliance formed under the most unexpected circumstances, Maya and Soobin wasted no time. They made their way to the circus, hoping against hope to find Hyunjin and rally the support they desperately needed. The circus, usually bustling with life and laughter, stood silent, its gates locked on the performers' day off. Yet, fortune favored them as Bang Chan and Felix, deep in conversation, were spotted near the entrance.

Felix's eyes lit up at the sight of Soobin, and even more so at Maya's presence. A hint of color crept into his cheeks, his usual composure slipping slightly. "Soobin, Maya," he greeted, curiosity piqued. "What brings you here, especially today?"

"It's about Y/N," Maya stated, the urgency in her voice cutting through the evening air.

At the mention of Y/N's name, a silent understanding passed between Bang Chan and Felix. Without hesitation, they ushered Maya and Soobin inside, into the heart of the silent circus. As they entered, the main eight performers, momentarily pausing their private endeavours, gathered around. The arrival of outsiders, especially under such unusual circumstances, piqued their interest.

Soobin, with a gravity that belied his years, shared Y/N's plight. "Her father's intentions have worsened. He's forcing her into a marriage she doesn't want. We've tried reasoning with him, but it's futile. Even Mrs. [Last Name]'s attempts have been rebuffed. Our last resort is to help Y/N escape, to be with Hyunjin."

The performers exchanged glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Bang Chan, ever the leader, stepped forward. "This is more than a call for help; it's a call to arms for us. Y/N is one of our own, through her love for Hyunjin and the circus. We will stand by her, do whatever it takes."

Felix, looking from Maya to Soobin, then back to the gathered performers, said, "We need a plan, something foolproof. Her father cannot know until it's too late for him to intervene."

Jeongin, always the creative thinker, suggested, "What if we create a diversion? Not the circus, but something else that demands his attention away from Y/N?"

Seungmin, the strategist, added, "We could fabricate an event, something prestigious enough that he wouldn't dare miss. That would give us the window we need."

Hyunjin, who had been quiet, his thoughts on Y/N, finally spoke up. "Thank you, all of you. But we need to ensure Y/N's safety above all. Where can she go where her father won't find her?"

Chanbin, known for his resourcefulness, had an answer. "I know a place, a safe house. It's secluded and secure. Perfect for Y/N until things settle down."

In the quiet of the early morning, the [Last Name] household was a hive of silent activity. Y/N's mother, complicit in the plan to help her daughter escape, moved through the house with a calm urgency. She quietly packed Y/N's belongings, whispering words of encouragement.

"We must be quick, darling. Everything will be alright," she assured Y/N, who nodded, her heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Outside, Maya and Soobin waited anxiously, keeping a lookout for any signs of trouble. Inside, the circus performers, Jeongin, Jisung, and Lee Know, had disguised themselves as new staff members, blending seamlessly with the household's daily operations. Their presence, unknown to Y/N's father, was crucial for the plan's success. Y/N's father, absorbed in his work, remained oblivious to the unfolding escape. Y/N's mother took this opportunity to engage him, drawing his attention away from the rest of the house.

"Darling, could you review these documents for me? I need your expertise," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

As Y/N made her way through the house, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Hyunjin. The weeks of separation had been a dull ache in her heart, and now, seeing him, the floodgates opened. She ran to him, her emotions overwhelming her.

"Hyunjin!" she cried out, throwing her arms around him.

Hyunjin held her tightly, a mix of joy and urgency in his voice. "I've missed you so much, Y/N. But we need to move quickly," he said, glancing around for any signs of discovery.

Their reunion was cut short by the realization that Y/N's father had discovered the deception. His voice, thunderous and filled with anger, echoed through the house. "Y/N! What is the meaning of this? Return here at once!"

Y/N clung to Hyunjin, her resolve hardening. "No, Father. I'm leaving. With Hyunjin," she declared, her voice steady despite the shaking of her hands.

Her mother, hearing the commotion, rushed to intervene, placing herself between her husband and the escaping group. "Please, understand. Y/N deserves to choose her own path, her own happiness," she pleaded, her eyes filled with tears.

Y/N's father, faced with his wife's opposition, grew even more incensed. "This is madness! You're both blinded by this... this fantasy! She belongs here, with her family, not with some street performers!"

Y/N, taking a deep breath, stepped forward, her mother's presence giving her strength. "No, Father. For once, listen. I love Hyunjin, and the circus is where I found my true self. I won't live a life chosen by anyone else. This is my choice, my future."

The confrontation reached its peak, with Y/N's father unable to breach the united front of his wife and daughter. His voice, though loud and commanding, was powerless against Y/N's determined stance.

Outside, Maya and Soobin heard the commotion and prepared to intervene, but it was clear that Y/N had taken control of her destiny. With one last look at her father, Y/N turned, her hand in Hyunjin's, and together with the others, they made their escape. The household staff, who had silently supported Y/N's choice, watched as the group disappeared into the early morning light. Their silent prayers followed the young woman who dared to choose love over duty.

As the car drove away, Y/N looked back at the only home she had ever known, now a symbol of her past. Ahead lay the uncertain road to freedom and the promise of a future with Hyunjin by her side.

Her mother's last words echoed in her heart, "Be brave, my love. Be happy."

The journey to the safe house was tense, with every passing moment filled with the fear of pursuit. But as the miles widened between Y/N and her former life, a sense of relief began to settle in. Hyunjin, his arm around her shoulders, offered silent support, his presence a constant reassurance. Upon their arrival at the secluded safe house, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The danger was not over, but for the first time in a long while, she dared to hope for a future where her choices defined her life.

Inside, the group gathered, a makeshift family brought together by a shared goal. "We did it," Hyunjin whispered, his eyes meeting Y/N's. "Together."

Y/N, her gaze steady, nodded. "Together," she echoed, her voice a testament to the journey ahead. "No matter what comes next, we face it together."

The dust of turmoil settled into a quiet calm as Y/N began a new chapter of her life under the protective wing of Maya and the Choi family. Their home became her sanctuary, a place where laughter and warmth replaced the shadows of her past. The Choi family, wielding their considerable influence and resources, erected an impenetrable barrier against Y/N's father, ensuring that neither he nor his old-world dictates could reach her again. Hyunjin, though physically apart, remained a steadfast presence in Y/N's life. His tent in The Circus, now not just a home but a symbol of resilience, beckoned her with the promise of visits filled with joy and the magic of the circus life they both cherished. In the background, a battle of a different kind was being fought — one that would liberate not just Y/N but her mother as well. The Choi family, acting as silent guardians, facilitated the severance of ties that had long bound Y/N's mother to a life of silent acquiescence. The divorce proceedings, though steeped in legality, were underscored by a fight for dignity and self-determination. The day the divorce was finalized felt like a collective exhale. Y/N, her mother, Maya, Soobin, and his parents gathered in the Choi's expansive living room, a space that had become a courtroom of sorts. Y/N's father, a man who had wielded control like a weapon, now appeared diminished, the reality of his situation settling in as he looked over the divorce papers.

"Is this what you want?" he asked Y/N's mother, his voice devoid of its usual command.

"Yes," she replied, her voice steady, her hands unshaking as she met his gaze. "It's time we both found freedom from this prison we've called a marriage."

Y/N watched as her mother spoke her truth, a swell of pride and admiration blooming within her. The room was thick with tension as Y/N's father looked from the papers to Soobin's parents, searching for an ally but finding none.

Soobin's father, a man of few words but immense presence, finally spoke. "It's done. Sign the papers. It's time everyone moved forward."

With a resigned sigh, Y/N's father signed the documents, each stroke of his pen severing the chains that had bound Y/N and her mother to a life of suffocation and despair.

As the pen was set down, a palpable sense of relief washed over the room. Y/N's mother, tears glistening in her eyes, reached for Y/N, embracing her tightly. "We're free, my love. Truly free," she whispered, her voice a mix of joy and liberation.

Y/N, her own eyes moist with tears, nodded. "Together, Mom. We have a whole new life ahead of us."

The group gathered closer, a circle of support and shared triumph. Maya, always the voice of optimism, chimed in, "This is just the beginning. There's so much more to come, so many more adventures to have."

Hyunjin, joining them later that day, brought with him the air of the circus — a reminder of the life that awaited them. "We're going to make so many more memories," he promised, taking Y/N's hand in his.

Y/N's mother, looking around at the faces of those who had become her family by choice, felt a surge of gratitude. "Thank you," she said, addressing everyone. "For fighting not just for Y/N, but for me too. For giving us both the chance to live our lives on our own terms."

The Choi family, Maya, Soobin, and especially Hyunjin, had become her champions, her protectors, and her friends. In their company, Y/N and her mother found not just safety but a sense of belonging.

As the evening wore on, filled with plans for the future and stories of the past, Y/N realized that this was more than just an ending. It was a beginning — a chance to redefine herself away from the shadows of expectation and into the light of self-discovery. The golden hues of dusk melted into the twilight, Y/N, Maya, Y/N's mother, and the Choi family approached the grand tent of The Circus, a beacon of joy and wonder that had become a second home to them over the years. The anticipation in the air was palpable, each step carrying them closer to an evening filled with magic and spectacle. Bang Chan, ever the charismatic leader, stood by the entrance, his presence as inviting as the warm glow emanating from within the tent. His eyes lit up at the sight of the approaching group, his arms spread wide in a gesture of welcome.

"Ah, the stars of the evening have arrived!" he exclaimed, his voice booming with genuine warmth. "I hope you're all ready for a show unlike any other!"

As they neared, Bang Chan's gaze softened upon Y/N, noticing the grace with which she navigated her surroundings, a radiant smile playing on her lips. The sight of her, more luminous than ever with her burgeoning baby bump, filled him with a sense of pride.

"Look at you, Y/N! Glowing and absolutely flying through life!" he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Let's get you seated comfortably, shall we?"

Inside, the tent was alive with an electric buzz, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and the melodious strains of music that promised an unforgettable night. The group made their way to the front row, the seats reserved for them offering an unobstructed view of the spectacle about to unfold. The show was a masterpiece of light, sound, and skill, each act surpassing the last in thrill and wonder. Acrobats soared through the air with the grace of birds in flight, jugglers wove patterns of light with their flaming torches, and clowns brought laughter and lightness, reminding every one of the joy in simplicity. As the final act drew to a close and the audience began to disperse, carrying with them the magic of the evening, the main performers of The Circus emerged from behind the curtains, their faces alight with the joy of having shared their world.

Hyunjin was the first to reach Y/N, his eyes shining with an emotion so profound it seemed to light up the space around them. He knelt before her, his hands gently caressing her baby bump, a silent conversation of love and anticipation passing between them.

Leaning forward, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead, whispering, "You're amazing, you know that? I can't wait to meet our little miracle."

Y/N, her eyes misting over with emotion, smiled, her hand coming to rest atop his. "Every day with you is a miracle, Hyunjin. I can't believe how far we've come."

"Did we manage to surprise you this time?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"You always do," Y/N replied, her laughter mingling with his. "Though I'm starting to think the baby's going to be a circus performer the way it's kicking right now."

Felix, not to be outdone in the enthusiasm department, swept Maya into a celebratory embrace, his energy boundless. "Did you see that triple flip? I did that just for you," he boasted, setting her down with a flourish.

Maya rolled her eyes, her smile betraying her amusement. "Show-off. I'm more impressed you didn't land on your face this time."

The banter continued, light and full of warmth, as they recounted the night's highlights and shared laughs over the mishaps that only they could see. It was a gathering of individuals who had become family, not by blood but by bonds forged in the fires of adversity and triumph. The tent, now empty save for their group, felt like a world apart, a secret place where the trials of the past dissolved into the hope of the future. As they gathered in a circle, sharing stories and laughter, the sense of family and belonging was overwhelming.

Y/N's mother, looking around at the faces of those who had become her chosen family, felt a surge of gratitude. "I never imagined life could be this beautiful," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "To see my daughter so happy, so in love, about to start her own family... it's more than I ever dared hope for."

Bang Chan, observing the scene, felt a deep sense of fulfillment. "This is what it's all about," he mused aloud. "Creating a space where everyone can find happiness, where love and magic thrive. Y/N, your journey, your courage... it's inspired us all."

As the evening drew to a close, the group made their way out of the tent, the stars overhead shining brightly, as if in celebration of the love and life that flourished beneath them. The Circus, with its wonders and joys, stood as a testament to the power of resilience, love, and the magic that exists when hearts are open and dreams are pursued with courage.

Walking hand in hand, Y/N and Hyunjin paused, looking back at the tent that symbolized so much more than just entertainment. It was a reminder of their journey, of battles fought and won, and of the beauty that awaits when darkness is overcome with light.

"Here's to new beginnings," Hyunjin said, his voice filled with hope.

"And to a future filled with love, laughter, and magic," Y/N added, her heart full.

And with that, they stepped out into the night, the stars overhead shining down on them like spotlights, illuminating the path forward. The circus behind them was more than a place of entertainment; it was a reminder of resilience, of laughter in the face of darkness, and of the unwavering belief that, no matter what, the show must go on. Together, they walked into the future, a future where fear had no hold, where love bound them tighter than any performance could, and where happiness was not just an act in a circus but the reality they lived every day.

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sabokunsmalia · 6 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄, 𝐖𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄, m. list

featuring: sabo x fem!reader plot: over twelve years ago, sabo promised to marry her if they meet again in the future, but then he seemingly never reached the first island beyond dawn island. his death changed the plans, forced her back into the noble bubble until she decided to pursue a life in freedom. fleeing from her noble family in high town & following her childhood friend luffy through thick and thin. but multiple things happen, and suddenly, she finds herself in the presence of a long-lost face. content warning: nsfw! (mdni!) + fluff + pet names + depression + soulmates & second chance kind of trope, all warnings will be added before each part. hi it's malia: definitely need to write that one, just found it on the old blog. i'm prepared for that one because sabo my love..

𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓: seated on a constellation of rocks, one larger than the other, she watched how the three boys ran along the path between the trees. a hand in the air, waving at her familiar face with wide smiles on their faces, and the loud laughter booming through the large summer trees. oh, how she wanted to joke around with them, follow them into the small villages around high town, and explore dawn island. but she could not attend the open streets. anyone who would catch a glimpse of her all too familiar face would inform the well-known family to snatch the bounty. berry for their missing daughter, as the three times before when she ran away from the nobility and joined the crew of three young rowdies.

"majesty," the young boy with the shaggy, raven-colored hair chuckled, attempting to mirror the curtsy they did in high town. obviously, his clumsiness kept the upper hand and he almost fell face-first.

"oh ace," she giggled, holding the back of her hand to her glossy lips. "you would make a very bad noble."

"how soothing that i do not want to be one," he answered, ruffling the already messed-up strands of his long hair further. behind him, the two other boys appeared that belonged to the trio. one with short blonde hair, dressed in an almost as noble attire as she was forced to wear, who had his arm wrapped around their brother's shoulders and pulled the tired and whiny boy along. "sabo! what happened to luffy?" she carefully jumped off the rock and hurried towards the crying boy. bruises covered his face and arms, the blue and purple marks hardly assessable.

"he tripped over a root while running away," sabo shrugged the shoulders, placing the youngest of three boys against a tree and crouching down himself. the pipe, he used to defend himself attached to his back, the large head pulled off his blonde hair. "sabo, did you push him?" she examined the bruises along luffy's legs, slowly tilting the head in the direction of the noble-born boy.

"what? me?" he pointed a gloved finger at himself, eyebrows raised at the little girl who occasionally joined their meetings. she was running away from the same town that sabo hated so dearly, despised more than anything else in the world. while others starved, the noble part of dawn island celebrated each day like their last and wasted too much food, too much water. "no! i would never do that!" sabo almost shouted, attempting to protect himself from the assumptions of his friend.

"if you lie to me, i will not marry you!" she argued, quickly coming up with a way to assure he was telling the truth. behind them, ace sat on the rock constellation, snickering about how the two fought.

"you already said yes! you can not take that back now!"

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ↷ part one, return of hiken.

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xdeath-by-poisonx · 1 month

Text

In honor of Angel's Birthday, I present my first official Hazbin Fic 👀 I hope some of you will enjoy! 💗

Pairing: Angel/Husk

Rating: Birthday fluff/smut, Explicit/18+ - Minors DNI

Word Count: 2,895

And if you'd prefer to read it on Ao3, you can do that here!

Angel couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an amazing birthday. Either in his life or his afterlife. Most years he’d spent the day desperately trying to forget that the day had held any significance at all. Especially once he’d signed his contract with Val, who always seemed intent on making his birthdays even worse than they already were. Last year had been exceptionally awful, with barely a moment's break between all the guys he’d had to service before he was allowed to stumble back to his bedroom to wash the stench of the day off of him. Of course, Val had put the smallest of efforts in to smooth things over, even bringing a stale cupcake with an unlit candle to his room late into the night. As if that would make any difference.

Nope, most birthdays Angel spent the evening crying himself to sleep, holding Fat Nuggets close to his overly used body until he finally drifted off.

But this year, things had started off differently. Though he woke up with the same familiar dread that hung over him every year, the first thing he opened his eyes to was a text from Charlie, telling him that she’d gotten Lucifer to bully Val into giving him the day off - with only a simple message from Val that stated, “Rest up, slut. Tomorrow’s a double load.” Fuck it, Angel thought to himself, he didn’t care. He had the whole day to himself! He could barely contain his excitement, squealing as he hugged his beloved pet pig to his chest and kissed him on the top of the head.

“How ‘bout that, Nug? Guess movin’ in here wasn’t sucha bad idea, huh?”

The small pig licked his face in response and Angel smiled. Of course he knew that. He was well aware that moving into the Hotel was undoubtedly one of the best decisions he’d ever made for himself. And for someone who was almost constantly making the absolute worst decisions possible, that was really saying something.

Angel decided to spend the majority of his morning lounging in bed, just simply enjoying his freedom and replying to some birthday messages from his friends, with Cherri, of course, trying to talk him into going out to the club with her to celebrate. Though, when he came across a message from Husk, his heart fluttered a little and he knew exactly how he'd be spending his evening . ”Happy Birthday, legs. Make sure to come by the bar for a drink later.” He felt a lopsided smile move across his lips that was quickly accompanied by a flush to his cheeks. It was no secret that he held an immense soft spot for the bartender, and from what he could tell, the feeling was mostly mutual. The two had grown incredibly close since the last extermination day, and had even shared a few kisses since then.

In all honesty, he thought about taking things further with Husk on a daily basis, but.. Husk meant much more to him than just a one-night fling or another paying customer. And Angel wanted things to happen naturally between the two of them. He wanted that soft, all encompassing sort of sex that he’d only ever read about or seen in movies. He, for lack of a better term, wanted him and Husk to make love.. not just fuck and be done with it, like everybody else in his life. But, when it came down to it , he wasn’t even sure if a mess like him deserved such a thing. To be loved and cherished in such a way..

Angel sighed, stretching all four of his arms over his head before swinging his legs over the side of his bed and making his way to the shower. If he was actually gonna spend his birthday however he wanted, he was going to smell and look good doing it. Not that he didn’t usually anyways. He’d admittedly spent longer in the shower than he intended to. With his mind wandering to images of Husk every time his fingers traced over certain parts of his body. And he couldn't help but wonder if the bartender ever thought of him in that way. If Husk’s hands ever wandered over his own body to the thought of him - late at night, when the hotel was quiet and fast asleep.

The image alone made the demon-

“Geez, Angel.. get ya mind outtah the guttah.” He chuckled to himself. It was barely noon and he was already horny. Which wasn’t entirely surprising for the porn star, but today wasn’t about that.

He exited the shower and toweled off before selecting a favorite outfit from his closet. A light gray fitted suit jacket with pink and white accents and torn off sleeves, and a pair of bright pink bootie shorts. Taking a moment to blow dry his chest fluff for some extra floof, he threw on a pair of black thigh highs and made his way downstairs.

“Well, hey there, birthday boy!” Charlie exclaimed as she ran over to him and wrapped him in a hug, making Angel chuckle.

“Hiya, dollface. Can’t thank ya enough for gettin’ me a day off from Val.”

Charlie beamed. “My pleasure! Dad was all too happy to help, really!”

“Yeah, Charlie just happened to mention to Lucifer how Valentino licked her arm that one time.” Vaggie added, chuckling.

“Ah, shit, yah. Sorry ‘bout that, Charlie.” Angel replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Pssh! Enough about that, it’s your birthdayyy!” Charlie exclaimed, shaking him.

“Yeah. Happy birthday, legs.”

Husk’s voice came quietly from behind the counter, immediately drawing Angel’s gaze that way. The bartender smirking softly at him while cleaning a glass.

“Thanks, whiskahs.”

“Yes. Bonne fête, my effeminate fellow!”Alastor added with a smile while Niffty jumped up and down excitedly next to him, making a sound similar to that of a gremlin.

“Eheh.. can I clean your room for you, Angel? For your birthday?!”

“Uhhh.. sure, Nif.” Angel replied, shaking his head as she happily ran off up the stairs - cleaning supplies in tow. “She’s got issues.”

“Don’t we all?” Husk countered with a smirk.

“Heh.. ya got me there, darlin’.”

Angel gave the bartender a wink but Husk only rolled his eyes at the pet name, though the smile never left his lips.

“Yeah, yeah.. how about that drink?”

“Ya read my mind.”

He took the seat directly across from where Husk was standing and leaned his body over the bar, resting his chin on his hand. A quiet adoration in the spider demon’s eyes as he watched the man expertly make him a drink. His hands moving in slow, smooth motions through each step, stirring the mixture to perfection before placing the silken, pink drink in front of Angel.

“You’re looking good, legs” He added. Angel smirked, taking the drink between two fingers and raised it to his lips.

“Ain’t I always?”

Husk rolled his eyes. “Fuck, just take the compliment.”

The smug smirk on Angel’s lips quickly turned softer as he looked up at the bartender. “... Thanks, Husk.”

The majority of the day went rather similar, with the two enjoying each other’s company over drinks. A myriad of flirtatious quips and soft gazes, the conversation becoming more and more heated as the day went on until finally around dinner time when Charlie insisted on treating Angel to all of his favorite foods, pausing the moment for about an hour or so.

But, even still. Even in those minutes where the hotel was lively with friendship and bristling with laughter - the two men’s eyes never failed to find each other. The energy that flowed between them almost palpable as they caught each other's gaze. Angel’s cheeks were more sore from smiling than they’d been in a long time - warm with flush, each dusted in a soft pink hue.

.. a fact, of course, that Angel would blame simply on the alcohol.

Though, as the evening started to die down, with the hours growing longer and longer into the night, the demon found himself growing more and more eager for everyone else to go to bed. And the moment it did, with everyone hugging the Birthday demon a goodnight, Angel resumed his earlier place at the bar. Watching contently as Husk finished rinsing the last of the glasses.

“Have a good day, legs?”

“Mh.. tha best.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

Angel smiled softly as he twirled a piece of chest fluff between two fingers and blushed.

“Ya?” He asked.

“One hundred percent.” The bartender replied with a wink, making Angel blush even harder.

“Y’know what would just put the absolute cherry on top?”

“Hmm.. let me guess, a kiss?”

Angel had been chuckling prior to Husk’s response, originally planning to say something dripping with innuendos that he honestly could no longer remember, the flush on his cheeks now a dazzling pink against his moonlit fur.

“I- .. oh.. I mean.. ah.. if.. ya wanna?”

Angel played with the same piece of fluff nervously as he looked up, lips ready and slightly parted.

“Heh.. I offered, didn't I?”

“Yah.. o’course.. just.. ah, alright.”

It was still weird for Angel, for someone to disarm him in such a way. Where his normally flirty persona was replaced with an unfamiliar, soft vulnerability - yearning to be loved, to be touched - cherished. He leaned in slowly, his breath hitching in his throat as Husk's lips pressed against his own - gently at first, then quickly burning with heat. A soft whimper as the bartender's hands came to cup his jaw, pulling Angel closer. It was a languid kiss - slow and intent, with their tongues dancing warmly over each other until the two finally pulled apart, panting.

“Ah, woah.” Angel whispered - eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“Heh. My sentiments exactly.”

Angel cleared his throat before sitting back down. “Well.. uh, happy birthday ta me.”

“You think that was your birthday gift?”

“Yes? N-no? Maybe?”

“Legs, you ain't seen nothin’ yet.”

The spider demon swallowed, watching intently as Husk made his way around the counter and held out his hand to him. The moment he took it Angel found himself being twirled into the lobby, the world spinning around him as Husk gave him a dip, his strong arms holding him securely - closely.

“Oh, Husky! Ya sure know how ta treat a demon-”

The smirk that coated Angel's lips was swiftly replaced by another kiss. This one deeper, hungrier, passionate. The lingering taste of whiskey on Husk’s tongue, the air of desire that surrounded him. It was all Angel could take before his arousal became ever more prominent in his shorts.

He pulled back for a breath, panting in want.

“Husk.. we should probably sto-”

“Fuck, I want you, Angel. Did I not make that clear?”

The bartender's gaze was soft as he looked down upon his dance partner, still holding Angel in a dip.

Angel bit his bottom lip. “Are ya sure?”

Husk grinned. “One hundred percent.”

He kissed him again, even deeper this time but Angel pulled back still, causing Husk to raise an eyebrow.

“Everything alright?”

“Yah, just.. y’know.. I don't want this ta be no one time fling, Husk.” Angel whispered, averting his eyes. His chest aching at the prospect that that might not be what the bartender wanted. But Husk only cupped his cheek gently, bringing his gaze back to him.

“Angie..you could never be a one time fling. Not a hundred time fling. Not a thousand.”

Angel blushed. “Oh yah? What kinda fling am I then?’

“A forever kinda fling.”

Husk's voice was softer than Angel had ever heard it before, the tone of it immediately causing the demon’s heart to do little somersaults in his chest.

“Ya smooth talker, you.” He replied, slapping Husk on the shoulder in deflection.

“I mean it, Angel.”

“O-oh.”

This time it was Angel that initiated the kiss, almost knocking Husk over in the process. Though, it didn't take long before the two had made their way up the stairs, practically clawing at each other's clothes by the time they’d reached Angel’s door.

“Fuck, how are ya sucha good kisser, Husky?”

“Shut up already so I can show you just how good I am.”

Angel moaned as the bartender kissed him even harder, nipping softly at his bottom lip as the two pushed through the bedroom door. The moment Angel’s back hit the bed the world became softer. Warmer. Their clothes discarded in a pile on the floor and their bodies flush against each other. He found that the ex-overlord was much warmer than Angel had expected, with Husk's soft fur pressing against his own. The fiery kisses that had once claimed their lips growing more and more tender with each indulgent sweep of their tongues. Hands roaming over each other in a dance of desire.

Angel couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable - so safe. His eyes half lidded as he looked up, taking in the sight of Husk's blush-dusted cheeks, gaze filled with want. With adoration. With something much softer that he couldn't quite label yet.

Maybe it was love.

Maybe.

But for now Angel just wanted to enjoy the tender moment without overthinking it. He knew he cared deeply for the bartender, and that he felt safer in his arms than anyone he’d ever encountered before. And for now, that was enough. And more than he thought he’d ever deserved, honestly.

But still, Angel couldn't resist the urge to tease him.. just a bit.

“Oh yes.. take me, daddy.” He whispered into Husk's ear with a smirk.

The bartender growled. “I swear to Satan, Angel.”

The spider demon chuckled before placing soft kisses from the bottom of Husk's ear and down to his jawline and lips. His eyes nothing but sincere as he spoke again, this time wrapping his lower arms around Husk’s hips while his other pair remained placed softly over his head.

“I’m yours for the takin’, Husk.” He whispered.

It was the first time he’d heard Husk's breath grow even a little shaky, his eyes warm as he held the demon’s gaze, placing his hands gently over Angel’s as he framed his face and slowly slid into him.

“Ah-”

Quiet sounds from both men before Husk’s lips were back on his lover's. Angel moaning loudly as he felt himself stretch around the bartender, his manhood filling him out even more than he’d expected.

“F-fuck, Husk.”

His words cut short by another moan as Husk thrusted himself in deeper, stuffing the demon in the most delicious way.

“You're beautiful, Angel, you know that?” The bartender whispered - praise skating across Angel’s ear, making him whimper. His arousal growing firmer by the second between his legs.

Their bodies moved in tangent, writhing against each other. Soft kisses turned passionate and deep, though always remaining gentle in nature. Even when Husk nipped sofly at his neck - it was careful, tender. The moment was exactly like all those romantic sex scenes Angel had read about late into night - when he’d felt alone - when he’d lie awake hoping for just a smidge of softness within his hellscape and his life with Val.

And now he had it, grasped tangibly within his hands and pressed flush against his body. Every meticulous thrust from the bartender's hip sending his pleasure higher and higher while his manhood grew harder against his stomach, twitching with each exquisite movement.

“Mmph.. I dunno how much longer I'm gonna last.” Angel practically whined.

“Mmh.” Husk growled softly, kissing him again as he picked up his pace and brought a hand down to slowly stroke over Angel’s cock - quickly building his pleasure to an all encompassing climax as he screamed out his lover's name into the night. Husk’s own arousal spilling out deliciously into him, filling him. Their bodies entwined in one another, breaths nothing more than pant as they fell against the bed.

“Holy.. fuck.”

“Heh, wasn't nothin’ holy about that, legs.” Husk chuckled, catching his breath.

“Ehh, I dunno .. there was definitely ‘holes’ involved.” Angel replied with a smirk, making Husk shake his head in laughter.

The two laid silent for a moment as they let their breaths settle. Angel fingers stroking softly through Husk's fur to the ebb and flow of his breath as he continues to lay on his chest, the demon's eyes slowly starting to grow heavy until the bartender sat up abruptly, stirring him.

“Eh, hold on. I got something for yah.”

“Oh? Ready ta go again already, whiskahs?

“Pssh, get your mind outtah the gutter, Angie!”

Husk yelled the words playfully from the hallway before quickly making his way back into the dimly lit room, his body framed in candle light by the tiny pink cupcake that sat in his hands - complete with pink frosting and a single lit candle in the middle of it. Angel sat up surprised, his blush swiftly returning to his cheeks.

“Ah.. what's this?”

“Gotta have a birthday wish, don’tcha?”

Angel took the small cupcake into his hands and held it like it was the most precious thing in Hell. A soft smile moving across his lips as he looked up at the bartender, eyes gleaming with unspent tears.

“Well, looks like I already got everythin’ I wanted, tho.” He replied with a smile, blowing out the candle.

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ncteez · 2 years

Text

Subtle (n.j)

❝ Your boyfriend does a lot of things right. He studies hard, wakes up on time, never forgets your birthday, and likes all the same snacks as you. On the outside, everyone notices how sweet he is as your other half but your parents would probably forbid you from seeing him if they knew what went on behind locked doors.❞

m.list | ao3 | minors dni! if you read it, reblog it.

requested by @zenlzen

wordcount ― 10.9k

pairing ― jaemin x fem reader

content ― summer vacation au, established relationship, college setting, fluff, smut

note ― first of all, lets give a round of applause to @rainyjeno for stepping up to become my main beta, now i no longer have to release fics full of typos ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) this ended up more dirty than i was anticipating so….ur welcome.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags ― softdomleaning!jaemin, he loses himself a lot,heavy emphasis on him loving your boobs, he has a lace kink and/or is really into the feeling of it against his cock, titty fucking, panty fucking, panty stuffing(orally in a quick jerk off session), grinding, nipple play, nipple abuse lmao, lots and lots of praise, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep throating, overstimulation, use of pet names like “my baby”, “pretty girl”, and “sweetheart”, some crying, eye contact, choking/suffocation (from cock), he feeds u cum for a second post-sex.

The sun was hot against your skin and far more inviting than the five days of rainstorms prior to this. Jaemin had texted you a screenshot of the weather all five of those gloomy days, counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds it would be for you to join him at the lake with your shared friend group. The semester was finally over and the happiness you’d both felt about the new summer freedom and near-perfect grade point averages weren’t dampened by the rain. You were ready to let loose, Jaemin was ready to let loose, and the sun was on your side today.

After being with Jaemin for over a year and a half, you’d also figure that the sly eyes and mocking would stop. Sure, during the first few weeks of the relationship the group of friends would get a laugh at how disgusting the two of you were together—always holding hands, celebrating your anniversary by the month, and giving each other little gifts and love notes. On the outside, it looks like the two of you were shy, reserved even.

Jaemin never made a point to do intimate things where people could see outside of a small kiss here or there, maybe some hand-holding. He didn’t mind the mocking too much though. In a way, it’s kind of funny how even the closest of his friends have no idea how different he is when the room is veiled by moonlight.

Looking up to the sky, you take note of the way the clouds are far more capable than just appearing pretty and soft, lazing by and shading your group of friends for only a moment. The rain before this day proves as much. You think sometimes, Jaemin is similar to those clouds. Comfortable, soft, pretty, but the second they get the chance, they’re pouring down and soaking you thoroughly.

“I’m gonna go swim–” You sigh out, looking at half of the group of friends already in the water, practically taking turns to throw each other.

Jaemin was there, sitting across from you with his knee resting on your leg. He smiles at you, nodding his head towards the water as if to tell you to go ahead. You assume he will follow when he’s ready, you can tell he’s soaking in the rays and enjoying himself on the posh grass.

With a small clap, you hop up to take off your t-shirt, or his rather large t-shirt. You were always thankful he bought lounge wear far too big for both himself and you, it makes clothes easily shared without the fear of stretching them out. Plus he enjoyed the way it would fall against your thighs and enjoyed it, even more, when he got to see you take the shirt off.

Standing there, you already feel Jaemin’s eyes on you, scanning the skin he had barely gotten to touch the way he truly wanted. Part of him thinks that you may be similar to his friends in assuming how he is in bed, despite experiencing it yourself. With both of you having packed schedules during the semester, you living with your parents to save money, and him living in a tiny college dorm with a very nosy roommate. He really can’t stand that he hasn’t been able to go all out. Neither of you can ever be loud. He constantly has to hold back to avoid getting walked in on, and while you can kind of see that he holds out nine times out of ten, you still think he’s given you the best and possibly wildest sex you’ve ever had. So it’s not like you’re complaining.

You make a point to stand there for a little longer, looking pretty for your boyfriend before rushing off to the lake so you can join in on the fun. His eyes never leave your body, zoning in on your chest and the way your nipples perk up at the summer breeze. Jaemin watches until you’ve gotten to the shoreline of the lake, and only pulls his eyes away from you when he realizes that his roommate is literally doing the exact same thing.

“Eyes to yourself.” Jaemin narrows his eyes and pinches his friend on the arm.

Jeno jumps from the sudden pinch, staring at Jaemin with raised eyebrows. He hadn’t even noticed he was staring, but to be fair, he simply followed Jaemin’s line of sight to see what the fuck got him looking so flustered. It isn’t his fault he hasn’t gotten laid in like two months, and it isn’t his fault that Jaemin’s girlfriend has nice tits.

“Jaem, this is the first time I’ve seen you stare at her like that.” Jeno shrugs, because Jaemin is aware that he’s thirsty for women and could probably never get a shot at you anyway. “You guys still haven’t fucked yet, or?”

Jeno thinks it’s kind of a waste. He knows the two of you have been dating for over a year now and never once has his friend shared the thrill of his sex life. Never once has he brought you back to their shared dorm to spend the night, outside of studying or grabbing something to borrow. Never once has he ever looked at you so openly in public like that. Jeno thinks that maybe his conservative friend is ready to take the next step with you.

Jaemin, however, is internally laughing. Not only have the two of you had sex, but you’ve had a lot of it. That considered, he knows there’s still a new side of him you haven’t seen in full, and there are still sides of you that he hasn’t experienced yet. Again, the lack of privacy kind of keeps the two of you fairly vanilla despite it being some of the best sex you’ve experienced, and believe him when he says he has tried to do more. He has tried to make time where the two of you could be alone, but it always gets fucked up. Someone is always there.

“You think we haven’t had sex?” Jaemin asks, leaning back and using his arms to hold his weight. He feels the sun against his face and squints over at Jeno. “Seriously?” He adds with a quirk of his brow.

“Come on, you swear you guys have a sex life, but I literally just don’t see it.” Jeno laughs, copying Jaemin’s stance and feeling the sun against his own skin.

In Jeno’s defense, Jaemin holds such softness with you that he genuinely can barely imagine his own roommate having sex at this point. He didn’t even grope you before you ran off to have fun in the lake. He never gropes or touches. If anything, the two of you must be the most normal in bed. Boring as all hell.

“That’s the point. We don’t exactly need you to be aware of what we do.” Jaemin rolls his eyes.

He does grow tired from time to time of his friends poking and prodding his sex life, mostly because he hates that even though he tries to keep it under wraps, the lack of sex they assume he has always becomes a point of conversation. Still, at times it’s just funny to Jaemin. It makes him feel like he’s truly giving you something special. Like no one knows or gets to know unless it’s you. Honestly, he can’t help being a private person.

“Jaemin, I’m going to say this in the most respectful way possible–” Jeno starts, eyes trailing to you shoving Renjun’s head under water twenty feet away. “But like, if I had a girlfriend like that you would definitely know what goes on.”

“Too bad you don’t have a girlfriend like that, huh?” Jaemin immediately fires back, eyes also trailing to you.

Jaemin has a plan. One that didn’t involve the obnoxious group of friends, family, parents, strangers, or anyone besides the two of you. He started saving up after a few months of your relationship starting, simply because having no privacy was already unbearable by that point. It has taken him up until now to save enough, and he smiles brightly when he inserts his card information and receives his confirmation email.

A small and dainty little house that fit within his budget right on the beach. The house comes with beautiful views, tons of amenities, and most of all, some fucking privacy.

His mind is running a mile a minute by the time he prints off the confirmation to give to you as a gift. Thoughts of loving you without eyes and ears surrounding the room. Thoughts of being in a home that the two of you can call your own for four days, almost sending him into a daydream of marrying you and starting a tiny family there.

Just you, him, the beach, and whatever flat surface inside of those walls he can prop and hold you against. His excitement is huge and by the time he makes it to your house, he feels like his heart is going to jump from his chest.

“Jaemin!” Your mom calls out, fond of your boyfriend and the way he has never done a single disrespectful or inappropriate thing in front of her.

A little frustrated that she always greets him first, you peek from behind your mother at the door. Jaemin’s eyes go from your mother’s to yours, his smile changing slightly in a way that shows you he has a specific smile reserved for certain people. You smile back, gently stepping in front of your mother to grab his hand.

You thought it would just be another night with your boyfriend. One where you both share dinner with your parents. Jaemin being his normal self with his praise towards your mother involving her homemade dinners and man-talk with your father about some sports games that you know Jaemin could give less of a shit about. Yeah, another normal night where you’d both head off to bed because your parents trust him, and they trust you. A normal night where you’d both have to avoid the bed because suddenly, a month ago, the hinges began to creak and now you have to do it on the floor.

It wasn’t a normal night though, because, by the time you closed your bedroom door, Jaemin just stares at you with a shit-eating grin that slowly fell into a smirk as he held out a piece of paper to you. Curious, you take a step forward and grab the sheet of paper, flipping it over so that you can read it.

Confirmation # XXXXXXXX Congratulations, you’ve successfully booked “Summer Dreams Honeymoon Getaway” for May 31st to June 3rd!

You read the paper, look at him, then back at the paper. “Wait–” You say, lips upturning.

Jaemin is still smiling, looking to the ground for a moment a bit flustered because he knew you would be happy, and his favorite thing to do is make you happy.

“Just the two of us?” You ask excitedly, pulling out your phone because suddenly you’ve forgotten what day it is, you realize that you leave with him two days from now.

“Yeah,” Jaemin beams. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while actually–”

He doesn’t have to say much more before you’re throwing yourself at him, peppering his face with sweet and gentle kisses. You’re so overwhelmed by the act of kindness that you’d almost forgotten how miserable it is to not have any means of privacy with your boyfriend. You’d grown so used to it that you figured it would always have to be like this, and you were willing to accept it if it meant keeping him by your side.

He’s shown his need for you, his need for privacy with you, his need to be free and spend time with you untainted by someone else’s energy, and truly, what a stupidly perfect boyfriend.

“Should we go shopping tomorrow?” Jaemin asks, pulling back from your assault of kisses on his face, hands holding you close by the waist.

All you do is nod, though you both have swimsuits and anything you could possibly need for this trip. A shopping trip wouldn’t hurt.

He’s taking you all over town. Grabbing this, and that, and some other things just in case. By the time the two of you stop for lunch, he seems to have grown a bit bashful.

“So–” He says timidly, watching you take a sip of your drink. “There’s another place I want to go but I don’t want it to make things weird.”

“Make things weird?” You ask immediately.

Jaemin has held back a lot. Taking you to a store like this would be a first for him for any girlfriend. Being in a public place, openly purchasing such things makes him feel a little too seen, but he wants to do it. Plus, due to his holding back, he’s almost starting to feel like he doesn’t care. He’s already been seen openly checking you out, he’s struggled with the schedules preventing him from touching you. The fact that you have some sort of idea of what he’s really like in bed, and now the two of you finally get to experience it? Honestly, his cock is driving this specific decision. He’s not ashamed.

“Yeah, um–” He looks down at his food and twists his fork around a bit before whispering something to you.

“Oh, that’s all?” You look at him, heat flowing across your cheeks.

You’re into it. He’s told you before that he wanted to see you in such things and that he wanted to do more. Of course, you believed him, but it’s not like he’s gotten the chance to actually do it. Even this store he’s planning to take you to, it’s not anything to be shy about. You were thinking he was about to take you to a full-on sex shop, which you’d still be into going.

You always wanted more too though and you’ve silently asked for more. He gave you what he could without being caught in the act, and now you realize that this trip will ruin you by the time you return home. Whatever you do there, you won't be able to do at home and that pisses you off to no end.

Nodding to him, he smiles.

“Knew you’d wanna go.” He glows when he says it, feeling like you’re truly the perfect match for him

The dainty white lace sat against your skin comfortably as you stared at the set in the mirror. This was what he liked the most in the store, despite the hundreds of other colors, fabrics, and sets you had considered. Part of you doesn’t want to take it off and you’re feeling a little on top of the world looking the way you do right now. You wish Jaemin hadn’t gone home, but to be fair the two of you leave together tomorrow and he needed to pack as well. He was going to be back at your front door in less than 12 hours to start the trip over to the beach house, and you didn’t intend to take this lace lingerie set off until Jaemin did it himself.

His eyes made promises all throughout that shopping date and you picked up on it, you focused on his eyes and the way you could tell he was envisioning what you’d look like in each of the lingerie sets the two of you considered. You saw those same eyes light up at the most basic set, but you didn’t question it. You’re glad you didn’t because now that it’s against your skin you realize how perfect it truly is.

You have so many cute matching pairs of bras and panties, but nothing this soft and delicate, nothing this expensive. You’re not taking it off until Jaemin does it himself, you’re really not.

Your boyfriend looked groggy as you opened the front door with your bags in your hands, and of course, your mother offered him something to eat before heading out. He obliged, causing you to lay your bags down and follow them into the kitchen. In all fairness, he probably agreed so she didn’t suspect that he’s definitely taking you away for several days to fuck the senses out of you.

You, on the other hand, were wide awake, lace sitting hidden under your clothes and skin feeling as if it is in a state of constant prickling. You want to leave now. You want to be alone with him now. Your mood gets to you quickly by the time your mother is wandering around the kitchen gathering things to make. Staring at Jaemin’s hands, looking at his sleepy face– you would let him throw you on the table right now if it weren’t for the fact that your mother would be incredibly disrespected by it. Time to flaunt, you guess, to at least wake him up a little.

Does he know you’re wearing the set? Is that why his groggy and sleepy eyes widened when you purposely dropped that hand towel and picked it back up, making sure he can see up your skirt while your mother was across the room looking for the perfect tea to serve for breakfast?

Surely he saw because now he’s wide awake and frantically looking between you and your mother, internally fighting himself to keep that energy of being the soft puppy dog boyfriend. His energy stays the same on the outside, but you see the flash in his eyes, looking you up and down and only just now processing that once breakfast is over with, he has you all to himself. He doesn’t have to hope you bend over for him again behind prying eyes, he could easily just slip a hand up your skirt and feel the pretty lace there as soon as he gets you out of the door.

God, you’re getting to him. His composure continuously falters and makes him look like the virgin everyone assumes he must be. All he can think about is that in just a few hours the two of you won’t be locked in a space with parents or friends. You’ll be able to fill the silence of a room with whatever sounds you want– and he knows exactly what sounds he wants to hear from you.

By the time your mother sets down a simple, last-minute breakfast in front of the two of you, Jaemin feels stupidly hard in his casual attire at the anticipation of this trip. He’s shifting his legs under the table, willing his thoughts to leave the expanse of skin under your skirt, he’s forcing himself to talk sweetly to your mother as if he doesn’t want to shove his entire length down your throat right here, right now.

His thoughts won't calm, nor does his cock, and the breakfast tastes incredibly bland because he’s eating it so quickly that he literally tastes nothing, all so he can hop up and run out the door with your bags without so much as a “see ya later!” to your mother.

“Oh, I want to use my favorite cup, actually.” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, making the breakfast last as long as you can because you can see him struggle beside you. He looks at you with pleading eyes, tearing a piece of the toast with his teeth as he brings his attention back to your body, fully intending to suffer by watching you tease him anyway.

That you do, walking across the kitchen and lifting up on your tip-toes, leaning forward just enough so that he can see the underside of your ass beneath the fabric. You smile to yourself when you hear his fork clatter to the plate.

“Jaemin, Are you okay?” Your mother asks, lifting herself up to grab a napkin to wipe the crumbs off of the table that had fallen from his fork.

“I’m fine, just need to use the bathroom–suddenly.” He tries to save himself, hands covering his obvious hard-on as he shuffles from his chair. Thankfully he’s never done anything suspicious before so your mother doesn’t think twice about it. She shrugs and then turns to you when he rushes out of the kitchen and to the bathroom.

“Your cup is in the dishwasher.” She says after realizing you’ve been over there for far too long looking for that cup.

“Oh!” You cheerfully laugh back, knowing full well that your cup was in there all along.

“You did that on purpose.” Your boyfriend seethes out with tense lips, looking you up and down the moment the two of you get into the car and close the doors. “And–you’re already wearing it...” He then blanks out, losing composure yet again. Your mother is standing outside, attempting to wave the two of you off and he’s getting incredibly frustrated with the fact that he still doesn’t have you alone even behind locked doors. Windows, fuck windows.

He looks at you for a few more seconds and then turns in his seat to give a bright smile to your mother, waving at her before starting the car and trying to speed out of the driveway as respectfully as he can.

“You picked it out, of course, I’m wearing it–” You say with a light voice, the voice you use to tease him quietly in the darkness of your bedroom. “I thought you wanted me to flaunt it.”

“Of course I do!” He retorts, focusing on the road and wishing so much that this drive goes by quickly. “But right in front of your mother? You could have killed me in there.”

You laugh again, running your fingers up your thighs and to the hem of the skirt that’s been the focus of his eyes all morning. “I think you liked it.”

Jaemin looks at you for a split second and shakes his head in defeat. “Didn't think you were the type to get off on humiliating me.” He admits with a laugh, his cock still twitching uncomfortably in his pants.

“To be fair, I think there’s gonna be a lot of things to discover for the next few days.” You finally calm yourself of the teasing, because it’s not like you intended to humiliate him– you just like seeing him go crazy over you. Is that so bad?

Jaemin thinks for a moment, looking at the clock and already internally counting down the hours the two of you can walk into that little beach house and absolutely destroy it. “I guess you’re right.” He smiles over at you. “I can finally stop acting like I don’t want to rip your clothes off–”

You interrupt him quickly. “I never said you couldn’t do that in the first place.”

Thinking to himself again, you’re not lying. In the beginning, you did try to get cozy with him in front of people, you did try to be loud, and you did tell him to do whatever he wants with you in the midst of blown-out pupils and messy sheets, but he can’t help that he doesn’t want the entire world to know what he likes, how he likes it, or how he does it. He doesn’t want your mother to dislike him and think he’s using you for sex. He doesn’t need Jeno to know what either of you sound like when you’re reaching climax.

It’s not even that you want people to know either. It just appears that Jaemin likes to keep his sex life under wraps, and that’s why privacy is an issue. Alone, in your room with him, you know the two of you could get away with a lot more, but he’s always anxious about being caught, about being seen as something that he hasn’t already shown them. You respect it, truly. But god, sometimes you just wish he would go all out because the man genuinely makes you feel like you could scream from a mountain top about how good his mouth feels on you.

“You know, it’s going to be hard to enjoy the beach–” Jaemin goes to change the subject, stopping at a red light and looking over at you. “Then again, I didn’t really intend for this trip to be about the beach anyway.”

You knew what those words meant. It’s vacation enough just being alone with him if you’re being honest.

As the time to arrive was drawing closer and closer, you could practically see Jaemin shift into the man you’d only seen snippets of in your bedroom. Only now it was fully him. He was still the same man, the same soft and gentle boyfriend you’d spent so many nights with, but this time he isn’t hiding or pretending. He isn’t brushing off any touch you throw his way either. He’s making dirty little comments towards you, telling you how good you look, reaching his hand over to tease the skin of your thighs, and even staring for a few seconds longer than usual at the expanse of your chest.

By the time the two of you pull up to the place, neither of you feel the need to do the awkward walk through the house commenting on how nice it is. No. You’re crawling in your skin, legs burning from the warmth you’d felt from his hand for hours doing nothing more than soft rubs. Jaemin, on the other hand, appears to be just as occupied in his thoughts as you are.

He doesn’t even pop the trunk to grab the packed bags because, at this moment, all he needs is you and that soft lingerie set that’s been hidden from him since that morning. The moment that door shuts, he’s looking at you and drinking in the silence. The realization hits him so fucking fast that finally– fucking finally–

“Do you hear that?” He asks, eyes finally scanning you fully as you stand there. He stops for a moment and stares at your chest, cursing the tank top that you have over it. If he looks hard enough, he can almost see the texture of the lace beneath it.

“Hear what?” You say, leaning against a counter and already feeling the need to rub your thighs together at his tone of voice.

“Exactly.” He says, walking up to you and pinning you there in an instant. “We’re finally alone.”

You’re not even shocked by how fast he’s got his hands on you, feeling every inch of skin that is visible before trailing them to the hem of your skirt. “I’ve never gotten to touch you like this in a kitchen before–” He whispers, running his fingers up your legs and to the curve of your ass.

It sounds stupid, dirty talk involving the very mundane room you’re standing in, but he’s right. The freedom he must feel right now has to be as intense as it is for you. Thoughts of dishes clattering, glass all on the floor, and a hefty bill for damages after this trip is somehow incredibly hot to you. The pure hunger he has for you simply because no one is around seems pathetic, but it makes it that much more meaningful to you. He wants you so bad that he can’t even bring himself to find the bedroom in this place before getting his hands on you.

You can feel him shiver against you at the mere shameless touching of your body in an open kitchen like this. The window blinds are open revealing a view of the sea, the sound of salt water rushing to the shore– still he only looks at you. The air in this house is cool and prickles against your skin, but still, all you feel is his fingers trailing all over your body.

Only then, as he hovers in front of you, does he press himself against you. His hand is already reaching for your chest and kneading over the material of your tank top there. “I could have you right here, couldn’t I?” He drones on in a whisper against the skin of your ear, still in the thought of how he can do anything he wants wherever he wants with you right now.

You nod to him, head spinning from the mere ghostly touches of his fingers being blocked by your clothing. You can feel his breath against your neck now as his other arm snakes around your waist in a half embrace, his other hand still kneading the flesh of your breast. “I finally get to hear all of those pretty sounds that you had to swallow up at home–”

You shiver at the words, pressing your body towards him and turning your face so that you can try to catch his lips in a kiss. It can happen right here, right now. You genuinely do not give a fuck.

He obliges in your kiss, knowing that your silence at this moment is likely caused by all of the times he’s kept you quiet before. He can feel your need through the way you work your tongue into his mouth like you did so many times back home, and that’s how he knows he’s got the green light to continue.

And that he does, pulling away from you and watching you try to chase his lips. He watches and looks down your body once more. “As much as I want to fuck you against this counter–” He pauses with a sigh and looks around the openness of the house, ignoring his cock pressing against his pants and demanding to be let free. “I want you on top of me.”

He steps back and drags you with him gently by the material of your tank top. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You’re a little in awe at how this is how he’s always wanted to act. He’s moved and positioned your body countless times in silence but never has he asked for what he wants out loud. You oblige, of course, you oblige.

You follow him to a very soft and wide-seated couch, one that could probably act as a bed if he so wanted it to. Then he sits himself down, kicking his shoes off in a careless way before looking at you as you stand there. His eyes aren’t leaving your body, always zoning in directly on your chest and wondering if your nipples have perked up under all of that cloth.

He holds you in place by your waist for a moment and only pulls you into his lap when he leans himself back against the couch, instantly feeling you sit yourself down and against his bulge. He’s thankful you’re wearing that skirt, knowing full well that your lace-clad pussy is sitting right where it belongs, despite his own pants shielding his cock from feeling the intricate designs.

“There we go–” He coos, pulling his hand up to run the back of his fingers against your cheek. “Now let’s get this off.” He tugs with his other hand at the hem of your tank top, smiling at you when you immediately lift it off.

He sits for a moment, bracing his hands on your now naked waist, staring in full view of how the bra perfectly cups your breasts. “I knew it would look good on you–but fuck.” Jaemin swallows hard and you can feel his cock twitch against you. A wave of warmth runs throughout your body at the way he gazes at you, it almost makes you want to hide your face at how different and new this feels with him.

Everything feels open, you feel more vulnerable despite having shared intimate moments like this with him before. It was always quiet, no words to be said. He never talked, and barely did he ever even sigh loud enough for you to hear his pleasure. Now he’s just—talking, talking, fucking talking, and you’re basking in it.

“You like it?” You say, grabbing one of his hands and placing it against the lace bra. You watch intently at the way his fingers instantly make an attempt to drag against it, tracing the cups and only barely grazing the skin there.

That alone causes your nipples to perk harshly, prodding against the airy material and peeking only slightly at Jaemin, who is still staring with growing pupils. He doesn’t even respond to your question, because he feels as though his mouth could be doing much better things than having a conversation right now.

You yelp in surprise when he lunged forward, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples through the fabric. He wets it with his tongue and flicks against it with ease while his other hand gently prods its way beneath the cup of the other. You can feel the sensation in your gut when he does it, the warmth of his saliva soaking through and coating your nipple to the point all you can do is plant your fingers in his hair and throw your head back to bask in the feeling.

Feeling his hips gently rut up against you, you do your best to grind down a bit as he works his mouth over your chest, running his tongue between your breasts so that way he can assault the other nipple through the fabric. Neither of your breasts are left unattended because you shiver only for a moment at the cool air hitting the saliva-soaked nipple before his fingers are slipping their way in to continue rubbing against it, warming it right back up.

It almost feels like overstimulation of your nipples already, with the fabric becoming harsh as his tongue massages through it, but you don’t argue. He stops every few seconds to almost nuzzle his face against your bra before going back to work, back and forth, wetting the bra to the point that your nipples stay erect and needy for more of his touch.

After a few moments, he pulls back satisfied, running his hands down your sides and resting them on your thighs, just below the bottom of your skirt.

“You look so shy right now.” He says in a low-toned voice. “You wore this for me, and teased me with it, only to act like this when I finally get to see it?” Jaemin adds with a bit of bite in his voice, pinching the outside of your thigh only slightly to get a little jump out of you.

You stare back at him, folding in on yourself in a weird kind of way. A way that you know you’re only doing it because he seems to be getting off on the act of shyness. He seems to like seeing you flustered, blinking at him under your lashes with a small smile. You are feeling a bit shy right now from the newness of it, but it doesn’t change the fact that you want him to absolutely make your knees buckle.

Smiling, you grind yourself a bit against him, still keeping yourself quiet so as to not taint the way his voice sounds echoing against the walls here. You see him react, his fingers digging slightly against your skin when you do it, feeling him hold you in place for a moment before flipping your skirt up and holding it there.

“God.” He groans out as he stares down at the wet spot already formed against the white lace panties, so wet that there’s a visible spot on his own pants from you. The wetness matches what he did to your bra, and this is exactly why he picked this color for you.

Jaemin looks back up at you, and then back down before he loses his composure and starts to move your hips on his own accord, watching his bulge disappear from beneath you and reappear with a larger, darker, wet spot against his pants. He wants to feel the panties so badly against his cock already that he can barely force his eyes to look up at you.

You watch him lose control for a moment, smirking to yourself at how you’ve barely done a thing and he’s already acting like this. You love seeing your boyfriend like this, you love being able to spend this time alone with him. Seeing his focus on the lace, you wonder if you can do something you’ve never done before. Maybe you can make him moan, writhe, by doing it.

Slowly, you grind against him using his hands as a guide, watching the way his eye contact never leaves the heat of your pussy, and just as slowly you grind further and further back until your pussy is hovering between his legs and you’re slowly getting off of his lap and onto your knees in front of him.

He watches, still staring at your pussy until it is no longer in his line of sight, eyes now shooting to your tits and the way they press against the saliva-soaked fabric. He looks to be mesmerized, and you’re loving it as you reach forward and unzip his pants.

He jolts for a moment, grabbing your hand as if to tell you that it isn’t time to go down on him yet. He’s not done with what he wants to do yet, but you shake his fingers off of your wrist, quickly pushing his pants down his thighs and to his ankles. You sit for a moment, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“I don’t know why I tried to stop you–” He says as he unbuttons his shirt to reveal his chest. He now realizes how truly good you look between his legs like this, on your knees and needy. “You look so fucking good right there.”

Jaemin stares down at you, ignoring the breeze against his cock, and waits in anticipation for whatever it is you’re planning to do. When you press your tits up and against his cock though, dragging the lace and sending harsh vibrations through his entire body, he nearly breaks.

“Stick it between them–” He groans out, watching the way you move for him.

When you go to put your arms behind your back to undo the bra though, he sits up quickly to grab them. “No, leave it on.” He says, leaning back again and allowing you to slip his cock under the bra and between your tits.

He sighs heavily at the feeling of the band holding his cock in place between your mounds and he doesn’t hesitate to reach forward and press them together so he can see the head peeking out from the top.

“God, I love you–” He groans out, slowly pressing his hips up to essentially fuck your tits.

As he’s grabbing at you, he begins to knead your flesh in his hands, fingers running over the laced nipples to get a shiver out of you. Only then does he grab them harshly, pressing them so tightly together that when he fucks up, he feels a shiver run straight to his cock at the very image of him finally getting it between your tits.

You can feel the bruising thrusts against your skin, but the look on his face is too good to ignore. You can to see more of him like this, you want to feel more of him like this, so, you place your hands against his and press them even harder against your tits to offer an impossible amount of friction against his frantic cock.

He moans out at that and it’s your first time every hearing his sounds of pleasure above a sigh or a whisper. It swallows your mind whole, hearing the echo against the walls and the pure ecstasy of it. You can feel your panties soak even more as you begin to rub your thighs together.

Jaemin is in his own little world, feeling the lace band hug the base of his cock so tightly that he feels like he’s being choked. The pressure is so fucking good when he’s being rubbed raw like this, he feels sensitive and absolutely overtaken by the way he fits so perfectly between your tits.

He continues to stare at the way the head of his cock disappears between the flesh of your tits and gets so turned on by it that only now does he realize how badly he wants to see how perky your nipples have become. From beneath your own hands, he doesn’t hesitate to grip the trim of your bra and let your breasts bounce free.

The friction he had was minimized only slightly, but his lust bubbles up the moment he sees your nipples. Immediately he pulls his hands back and put them over your own now.

“Hold them together for me, pretty girl.” He soothes, moving his own fingers to flick and twist at your nipples as his thrusts become a bit more erratic.

You see him seethe out, chewing against his bottom lip as he focuses solely fucking and abusing your chest. You find yourself loving it though, pressing them together and allowing yourself to feel the sensations of his fingers sending constant spikes of pain and pleasure throughout your body. You’re so wet by this point you can barely stand it, feeling the wetness already on your thighs and allowing them to glide together easy when you start rubbing them together at a constant pace.

Only when Jaemin feels like he’s losing control does he pull his hands back and watch the way you’re face is contorted into that of discomfort. You look so pretty like this to him, you must be feeling neglected.

He swats your hands away from your tits to allow his cock to fall free of them aside from the band of your bra. His precum shines against the inner sides of your mounds and across your chest and that alone should be enough to tell him how good you’d look covered in it. God, there’s so much he wants to do. So much he wants to say. His face feels hot, his cock is twitching, and you are literally just too fucking perfect.

“I love you too.” You whisper, lifting up a bit to let his cock spring free of your bra, but then you’re immediately back down, pressing your lips to his shaft and looking up at him. “Did you like that?” You giggle out.

Your voice sends him into overdrive when he nods to you with a smile. There’s so much he wants to do but now his thoughts are riddled with the idea of finally hearing you gag around him. He had to be gentle at home, fucking into your mouth in a slow way so that when he feels your throat constrict, he can pull back...but now–

“Are you going to use your pretty little mouth to make me feel good?” He asks, already pressing the swollen head against your lips. “Can you take more of it now?” He asks again, pressing a bit harder.

You don’t even answer, opening your mouth and tasting the pre-cum against your tongue as you make haste to swallow him up.

Jaemin shoots his hands to your hand, pressing your head down more and more because he wants to feel you gag this time. He wants to see how pretty your eyes would look in a glassy haze of tears. He wants to see the mess of saliva and precum bubbling from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to breathe around him. Only– you don’t stop him? You take it with ease up until his entire cock is bottomed out and your nose is pressing against his pelvis.

“Shit–” He mutters out, looking at you in awe. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do this?” he adds, pressing his hips up to see if he could manage to get his cock even further down your throat. He can see your eyes smile, though they’re already beginning to water up a bit.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jaemin says, skewing your head up and watching the way your mouth stretches around him. “So good to me.”

He sees your eyes light up at that before they fall closed, and he watches the way your nose flares out to try and take in a breath. The fact that you’re not pulling off is one thing, but the fact that you’re allowing him to constrict your airflow for his own pleasure is another, very amazing thing to him. He loves that you’re taking it so well, and loves even more how you grip his thighs when he doesnt even pull out, and instead grinds himself against your throat just to feel it constrict more around him.

You’re humming against him with each gag, doing your best to stay put as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. Everything feels hot, the tears in your eyes, the saliva pooling in your mouth, Jaemin’s pre-cum continuously dripping into your throat. You really do your best, but breathing through your nose is becoming more difficult by this point, and when he holds your head in place by your hair, skewing his head to watch his cock slowly drag out of your mouth, you can finally moan out a breath.

“Fuck,” His sigh is long and drawn out. “Fuck.” He says it again, pulling all the way out of your mouth and watching the way you suck in a breath despite the saliva dripping from your lips. You stay in place though, flicking your eyes up to him with a nod before he’s pressing back in to do it all over again.

Never would he have believed you’d cockwarm him with your mouth, but here you are, and here he is. He can’t stop himself. He’s barely even fucking your face at this point, he’s more so just burying his cock into you in a way that will cause your throat to pulse around him as your body panics for a breath.

“Shh-” He soothes, pulling one hand from your hair and wiping a tear that begins to run down your cheek. “Look how good you’re making me feel.” He says back, gently rutting his hips into your throat, leaving no space at all for air. “You’re doing so fucking well.” He adds with a grunt, chewing at his bottom lip as he stares in awe at the way you just take it.

You try to nod, but it causes an intense gag to reach your throat and you can’t help but cough. You don’t pull off of him though and instead, you choke around him, determined to keep him in place so that he can continue his praise.

“Aw, baby girl,” Jaemin soothes again, pulling slightly out of your mouth so that you can suck in another breath and calm the choke. “You can’t breathe, can you?”

You shake your head and release your grip from his thigh, solely because your clit is on fire for pressure and all you can think to do is give Jaemin what he needs along with yourself. He watches this motion, eyes following your hand all the way down until it disappears behind the edge of the couch. Then he watches the way your arm flexes as you touch yourself.

Jaemin then shoves your head back down and bottoms his cock out in one go, lost in the thought of how good you must be making yourself feel while barely being able to breathe. He’s in awe and absolutely fucking in love with you in this moment to the point that he has no issue with guiding your mouth on him. A proper blowjob he could say, deepthroat and all.

You choke around him at the quick pace he moves your head, but every half second your fingers are stimulating your clit in such a perfect way that it’s almost hard not to cum with all of the stimulation. You’re still wearing the incredibly soaked lace that for a moment you forgot you were wearing them at all, they’re clinging to your skin and allowing your fingers to glide smoothly across the sticky wet spilling out of you.

Your boyfriend continues his assault on your throat, eyes focusing between your tits pressing against the couch to the way your arm speeds up to do something he can’t see. It grows to be too much for him, so he pulls you off of him by your hair and looks down at you with blown-out pupils. He looks incredibly lost like this and also sexier than he’s ever been.

“If we keep doing this, I won't last.” He admits as he swats your hand away and grabs your arm. “Come back and sit on it, I know you need more right now.” He tries to keep his composure when you stand up to reveal just how wet you’d gotten in the midst of suffocating on his cock.

“Take that off first–” He says, looking away from you for a moment just to try to keep himself from cumming completely untouched during this short moment.

You obey, slipping your skirt off and already bracing yourself to get back onto his lap. He helps you, allowing you to balance yourself on him as you straddle and press your pussy against his cock.

“You did so good,” He praises you with a kiss when you sit down on him, and he does moan into it when he feels the lace slide against him. “Was it too much?” He asks, pulling back so that he can search your face for any amount of discomfort.

“I could have taken more.” You admit, continuing to glide your hips against him. “You looked even better than I thought when you were doing that to me.” You say in a half-gasp, feeling your clit strive for the attention.

“Yeah?” He says, quirking a brow and watching the way you must not even notice how you’re getting yourself off on top of him.

“Yeah.” You say, trailing off as your thoughts focus on the stimulation between your legs. You roll your eyes back for a moment, realizing that any amount of pressure against you could probably have you screaming his name and clawing against his skin for more.

Jaemin watches you do this for a while. His cock is still impossibly hard and sensitive as you ride against it with ease, the lace he had picked out doing its job perfectly in not getting in the way. He can tell you’re getting into it more and more when you brace your hands on his shoulders and really start to go at it.

His eyes watch the way your body moves on top of his, the writhing and pure want showing with each jerk of your hips towards his middle. He gently caresses your face, knowing that your body reacts this way only for him, and only for what he does to you. “My baby, so needy isn’t she?” He murmurs when he pulls you down so he can whisper against your ear. “Just ask, I’ll give you anything you want.”

You always loved that he did this. Jaemin always has control, but he doesn’t take advantage of it. He does give you everything you could imagine. You love the way he touches every inch of your body, leaving no expanse of skin left without his lips or fingers against it. You don’t even have to ask at this point as your hips swivel and yearn for more, more, more. After having spent so many nights where the two of you had to be quiet, Jaemin knows exactly what you want.

“Hm?” He hums with a smile in his voice, tilting his head to get a good look at your lust-filled eyes. “We are finally all alone, and you’re still being so quiet.”

You look at him, clenching his arm and snapping your hips against his cock harshly. He’s right. There’s no parent in the other room, no friends listening in.

“I’ve always wanted to hear the way you’d sound for me–” He moves his hand down, skewing your panties to the side. “without holding back, talk to me baby.” He adds with a breath, slipping his cock against your pussy and allowing the sticky fabric to hold him there “Come on, don’t be shy.”

This only causes you to moan out, gliding your bare pussy over his cock and feeling it in all of its fullness. You look down, watching the way his swollen tip hits against your clit before stretching out the lace fabric of the panties, and then you look at him. You want to ask him to fuck you now, but–

He is also staring, clearly, he’s lost himself again as he watches the way his precum seeps through the already wet fabric each time you glide back. He’s amazed by the feeling of your folds hugging his cock, and then by the panties holding him in place and offering a soft and delicate type of pressure to his tip.

He moans as he lunges forward, pulling you down against him in a tight embrace. You’d think it was a sweet gesture rather than a horny one if it weren't for the fact that you can feel his cock fuck against you and into the panties.

Your boyfriend is, quite literally, fucking your panties with you in them and you couldn’t be bothered to protest because it’s incredibly hot seeing him lose himself like this.

You lay there in his arms, feeling his cock beat against your clit relentlessly just to feel the soft fabric of your panties stimulate him. You’d never imagine this happening and for some reason, you’re incredibly into it probably because you’ve been on the verge of an orgasm for a solid four minutes.

Helping him out, you lift yourself back up and smile at how his arms loosen and immediately go to your waist. His eyes open and they’re straight back to watching the way he’s stretching the panties out.

He stares harder when sees you pull the panties from your heat and practically wrap the fabric around the head of his cock. All he can do is fuck upwards, feeling the base of his cock being held directly against your pussy from the panties holding him there. The friction is so little, but seeing the lace practically cut the circulation off of his cock is driving him mad. He thrusts upwards again, groaning at the pain of it but he still doesn’t stop. There was already so little space between you and your panties, given the perfect fit, but he can feel them stretching out more and more with each of his thrusts. He is fucking into nothing, and solely getting off to the feeling of the thin, thong-like fabric choking his cock out.

His hands begin to grip your waist so hard that it feels bruising, and sure, you know he was implying he would fuck you earlier but it was too good to see him get lost in this. You can see his frustration each time he thrusts up, but then his eyes go back to the image of his cock wrapped up against your pussy and he loses it again, thrusting even more frantically.

You can feel your panties stretch out, rubbing the creases of your thighs harshly with each snap of his hips, but you hold out and finally begin to move on your own accord to allow your clit the pressure that you had felt moments before.

Neither of you have any sort of rhythm because you’re fucking against him, and he’s just desperately trying to chase a high that’s barely there. His frustration grows and grows until he shoots a hand forward and unwraps his cock. The loosened fabric is no longer of use to him when he immediately holds himself in place and makes direct eye contact with you.

“Ask for it.” He says with eyes so blown out and his voice so raspy that you can barely recognize him.

You were thrown off by the sudden change of pace, but you want nothing more than to have him thrust that hard inside of you. You want nothing more than to finally feel his cock pounding so deeply inside of you that you’re babbling like an idiot and finally able to scream out for him.

“Tell me you want it as bad as I do,” He says again, pressing the tip slightly against you. “I want to hear you talk this time, please baby girl– just talk for me…”

He’s almost begging you to beg for him.

“Please, Jaem, fuck m-” Before you can even finish speaking, your breath is caught in your throat as he practically rams into you with one deep, harsh thrust.

You go to try and speak again but he’s got his hands on your waist and he’s already lifting up to get his nipple in your mouth. The stimulation all over your body is too much for you to pin-point a single thought to voice out for him. He’s totally lost in it anyway, feeling your pussy clench around him at the sudden intrusion. His hips won't stop, they just move faster and faster as his tongue chases your nipple and the way it bounces away from his lips with each thrust.

All you can do is yelp, each moan coming out when you bounce against his thighs. You grip onto his opened shirt, pulling and tugging to keep some sort of grasp on reality but he’s really just fucking gone and willing for you to join him. Jaemin is muttering words against your nipple as he bites and sucks, fingers harshly holding your waist and digging into the flesh there.

“You’re so fucking hot–” He mutters at one point, moving his mouth to your other nipple. “You sound so pretty when you ask for me to fuck you–” He mutters again. “I knew you’d like it like this.” He continues to talk against your skin, bruising your nipples. “You feel so good clenched around me, so tight.”

You’re seeing a flurry of white as he talks effortlessly despite his merciless thrusts into you. You bask in his voice and the constant praise while you make an attempt to bounce yourself now, meeting his thrusts halfway. Jaemin stutters his praise and moans out instead, relaxing his hips so he can watch your pussy suck him in each time you bounce.

“Yeah, like that–” He groans, rolling his eyes back for a moment out of pure pleasure. “Fuck yourself on me.”

You can tell he’s not done talking and you don’t mind it. It keeps you from having to think of something to say in a moment where your brain is quite literally falling apart.

“Tell me you love it,” He asks for praise of his own now, stiffening his abdomen and feeling the way your pussy jerks him off.

“You know I love it.” You express in a quick gasp, leaning down against his ear so that he can hear the full volume of your voice. “I’m so close,” You groan out, sitting yourself down and burying him inside of you one last time before swirling your hips and rubbing your clit against his pelvic bone.

“You gonna cum on me like this?” He looks at you and then back down to see your swollen clit bumping against him. “Just like that?” There’s a smile in his voice when he starts to fuck up again, hitting your clit harshly in the process, “Want me to show you how crazy you make me?”

You’re already losing it, especially when you feel him wrap his arms around you and push you over to the side, he is smooth with it, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you when your back hits the cushions. Now that he’s on top of you, there’s absolutely no control to be had on your end.

He hooks one of your legs and wraps it around his waist and he begins to drive his cock in and out of you with a messy and wet sound. His fingers go straight to your clit, rubbing harsh shapes and circles against it.

He watches the way your tits stay half restricted from the bra he completely forgot to take off of you, your bruised nipples peeking from the fabric. He thinks they look good like this anyway, and to be fair he liked the way the lingerie set laid ruined against your skin.

Jaemin continues rubbing and flicking your clit as he pounds into you at a different angle and he can practically see the lights go off behind your eyes. This only drives him to go harder, faster, until you’re finally moaning loud enough that he can never forget it.

“Still close?” He asks out of breath, trying to hold back his own orgasm.

You try to answer, you really do, but it hits you so fucking fast that all you can do is tense your leg around him and hold him in place. You’re clenching around his cock so tightly, cumming so incredibly hard that you do release a very loud moan.

His fingers are still rubbing your sensitive clit and he can feel your orgasm hit you around his cock. All it took was that moan, one that even he wasn’t expecting to be so loud.

It wasn’t even supposed to be of his name, but what you were trying to say is “Jaem, I’m gonna cum.”, instead, what you moaned out was his name. Over and over. You couldn’t help it, your brain wasn’t working and your body felt tight, but god did he love it.

He basked in it, his own orgasm rushing through him in waves, spilling into you continuously. Your walls were still clenching around him, causing his cock to just keep fucking going.

A mess of breathy words and moans follow, most of which were Jaemin trying to explain how much he loves you, how good you are to him, how hot you sound, and of how much more he’s going to do to you later.

Your words still only consisted of his name, all the way up until you opened your eyes to see him huffing and falling forward onto you. The sweat drips against your chest as he lays there, and your body twitches as it comes down from your high.

Both of you suddenly feel uncomfortably wet and sticky, and only now does he lift his head to look at you. “You can be louder, you know.” He laughs, finally pulling himself out of you and staring down at his work. The panties are embarrassingly stretched and he can see the swollen marks they had left against your skin from the pushing and pulling. Still, his mind is in the gutter and all he can do is reach down to pull them off of your tired legs to keep for later.

“I’ll have to get some more of these.” He comments to himself, gently leaning to grab at your hands. “We should find the bathroom in this place.”

“And maybe we should nap?” You add in a tired and fucked out voice.

The nap never happened, infact, before the two of you even got into the shower he was on his knees, watching his cum seep out of you and scooping it up with his fingers. For some reason, you weren’t taken aback when he lifted them to your lips and let you gently clean his fingers of the filth.

He was already hard and ready to go by the time you’d finished, and all he could think about was how wet those stretched-out panties must still be. He allowed you to slip into the shower though because he could see your sleepy eyes grow heavier. He opts to throw on his pants and run out to the car to grab the neglected packed bags in order to give you your toothbrush, considering he just fed you a mixture of his and your own cum.

By the time he gets back inside, he’s all pumped up and ready to join you in the shower, mostly to see how nice your skin would look with soap running down your body. Naturally, his brain is already replaced with his cock again, so he’s quick to snatch the panties up off of the couch and rush to the bathroom with your toothbrush.

You jolt for some reason at the door opening. The water had already soothed the welts against your ass and thighs from the lace, but you become rigid at the image of your boyfriend standing there and shimmying his pants down his legs. His cock is hard again. All you can do is shake your head because you need at least an hour's nap before going for another round after that.

He doesn’t falter, thankful that you’ll at least let him stay in the bathroom with you to enjoy the show. Only after he sucks your panties into his mouth and abuses his own neglected cock to another orgasm does he pull himself up on weak legs and enter the shower with you.

Jaemin thinks you may be his favorite person in the world in the way you manage to gag on your toothbrush, but never that embarrassingly around him. He definitely loves you.

#nct-writers #neohub #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #na jaemin smut #jaemin fic #na jaemin fic #nct dream fic #nct smut #nct fic #nct jaemin #nct dream jaemin

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separatist-apologist · 3 months

Text

Every Corner Of This House Is Haunted

Summary: Nesta would leave if he asked her to.

Azriel never would.

For Day 2: Traditions of @sjmromanceweek

CW: Cheating, smut

Read on AO3

She knew he was coming.

Silent as the grave and yet somehow she always knew exactly where he was, could have picked him out in a crowd with ease. It had always been like that between them—some silent understanding they shared, some secret only they knew. Nesta didn’t move from her chair, pretending to read though they both knew he was there.

The tell-tale click of the lock shattered the game of pretend. Nesta was forced to look over where Azriel stood, back pressed to the door hiding them from the world. They were friends—no one wondered why they were alone in the House of Wind and if they were caught behind this door, no one would think a thing of it.

But no one was coming tonight. Cassian was out with Rhys, spending one last night of freedom doing whatever it was he had planned before they were married in the morning. Nesta had kissed him on the cheek and warned him not to be hungover at their wedding ceremony the next morning.

Azriel should have been with them celebrating.

“You’re home early,” Nesta commented, well aware that Azriel could hear her heart racing.

“I told Cass I’d meet up with him if I could get away from my assignment early,” Azriel responded, his words low and deep. She couldn’t drag her eyes off him, pulled in his current until she was drowning in eyes more green than brown.

“They’re probably down at Rita’s,” Nesta said dismissively, returning to her book. You should go meet them, was what she didn’t say because she didn’t want him to leave though she knew he should. He’d promised the last time was the last time.

Just like always.

“I’m not finished,” Azriel told her, pushing himself off the door to come closer. Nesta watched from the corner of her eye, one hand gripping the arm of the chair so tightly she could hear it groan beneath the pressure. “He’s not coming home tonight.”

“I know,” she whispered, drinking in the cool smell of peppermint and snow.

“Tonight I can pretend,” he added, swallowing hard. I can pretend you’re mine.

Nesta turned her face, unprepared to find him kneeling beside her. Azriel didn’t let her speak, capturing her lips with his own as he reached for her face. It was easier this way. If they really talked about what tomorrow meant, Nesta knew she’d cry and Azriel would leave and there would be nothing left between them.

No it was better like this. Threading her fingers through his thick, messy hair, Nesta scooted until Azriel was pulling her from the chair, her book clattering to the ground. They had to be careful—scents lingered. Tonight, though, Nesta wanted to pretend, too. She wanted to pretend that it hadn’t been Cassian on the other end of that cord but Azriel instead.

It was a cruel, unfair thing to wish.

Maybe she would have hated him, too, had he been her mate. Maybe Nesta just wanted what she couldn’t have. There was no way of knowing and for the rest of her life, Nesta would be plagued with the knowledge of what it was like to be loved by Azriel without ever sharing that with anyone but the male himself.

“Up,” Azriel ordered, hands sliding beneath her ass to lift her into the air. “With me.”

His room was private. Cassian and Rhys didn’t dare tread in his space and would never know the things that happened within those four walls. Even the presence of the house seemed to vanish there, as if it knew better than to watch. Nesta buried her face in the crook of Azriel’s neck, tracking the tattoos that crawled over his skin with her tongue while he walked.

Stay with me, she wanted to scream. They could run away somewhere even the long arm of Rhys didn’t reach. Could hide on the continent for a couple centuries. Long enough for tempers to cool, at least.

And Nesta knew that Azriel never would. He wouldn’t leave his brothers, his family, his home. Not for her, not for happiness.

Not for anyone. There was no use begging—not that she ever would—because Azriel didn’t think he was worth all the trouble. He’d take her like this because these stolen moments were all he thought he deserved, and Nesta didn’t know how to untangle that knot.

To prove he was worth so much more than the scraps of another man's life.

His bedroom door opened and closed, plunging them into total darkness. It was Nesta’s turn to kiss him, legs wrapped tight around Azriel’s torso, her hands back in his hair. He tasted like the cold air around them and when his fingers slid over her spine, deftly undoing the pearl buttons that kept her dress on, Nesta shivered.

“I need to taste you,” Azriel whispered in the dark.

“Please,” she responded, relieved when her back hit the bed. Her dress was gone, leaving nothing but the whisper of air against her bare stomach and her underthings she wished he would shred. Somewhere in this room Azriel must have had a collection of her night dresses. Nesta had never asked what he did with them when she slipped back to her room naked and Azriel had never once returned them.

Nesta had nothing of his at all. Only her memories, locked up so tight not even Rhys would find them, even with a hundred years of torture. She wanted more, though. More than his rough, callused fingers taking off the rest of her clothes and more than the darkness that hid them.

“Az—”

“Don’t,” he rasped, sinking to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Let me.”

She was already naked, propped up on her elbows as Azriel slid smoothly to his knees. He preferred them this way—her on a pedestal, him worshipful. His eyes were catlike in the dark, reflecting the tiniest sliver of light. She could see his scarred fingers sliding up her shins, spreading her thighs further apart.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Azriel murmured, his breath warm against her skin. Nesta held her breath, hoping to hear him say the three words that had eluded them both since they’d first began. He didn’t, though. And she didn’t ask him to—there were some lows Nesta refused to stoop to.

He’d say it with his hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. But never with his words. Just give me a reason to go, Az.

He wouldn’t.

Could he feel her desperation, she wondered? As he trailed his tongue up her leg, stopping just to return to her other leg, teasing her with slow touches, Nesta thought he must. This felt like an apology.

It felt like goodbye.

“Turn it off,” Azriel whispered, hovering between her legs. “I can hear your thoughts.”

“Az—” Nesta tried again, but this time he silenced her with a long lick up the center of her cunt. Nesta exhaled and just like Azriel wanted, her thoughts narrowed to his mouth and his tongue and nothing else. She convinced herself, when he slid one of his fingers into her body, that they had more time. Eons of it. He wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she. There would be time.

Nesta relaxed into the mattress and Azriel rewarded her for it, sucking and teasing her clit until she was panting as though she’d run up and down the stairs.

Azriel began to pump slowly, replacing that singular finger with a second, and then a third. It was a prelude to what he’d do when he finished and some little part of her wished he’d just hurry himself up.

Nesta raked her nails through his hair, delighting in the shuddering moan that escaped him. His mouth moved against her quicker, though with that same, fluid softness that drove her insane. Nesta was burning, could feel her magic crackling beneath her skin. If she wasn’t careful, she’d ignite the bedsheets on fire and have to make up some lie about what she’d been in Azriels room.

Again.

Azriel’s mouth was a symphony, each touch a new note. Fisting her fingers in his hair, Nesta pulled him closer the way he liked, grinding her body into his face until all she could hear was their shared breathing and his soft little moans reverberating through her.

“Az,” she whispered in warning. They were always quiet and she wondered what he was like wholly unrestrained. Did he even know? Nesta pressed her toes against his shoulders, pushing just a little as pleasure swept her toward the ceiling, toward the sky. Nesta’s thighs clamped around his face seconds before she came, causing Azriel to pull his fingers from her body so he could drag her closer and hold her still.

It was his favorite little game. She was lost to pleasure, drowning beneath the press of his tongue. It seemed as though he might just ride her through the orgasm but Azriel was a torturer, and that instinct didn’t stop in the bedroom. It merely sharpened him, drove him to keep licking until Nesta was writhing, her legs draped over his back so she couldn’t kick at his chest.

“Az,” she breathed, the pain quickly shifting into over stimulation. It was no use. Eyes locked on her face, Azriel pulled that second orgasm out of her writhing and panting before he let her go. Nesta felt exhausted, her limbs heavy. He’d let her sleep and she knew it, and Nesta wasn’t letting Azriel play the gentleman. Not tonight.

Rising up on her knees was met with a soft push against her chest, fingers grazing her bare breasts. “Not tonight,” he murmured, undoing the snaps that kept his clothes on. Nesta watched, tucking her heels beneath her body, hands resting in her lap. She thrust her chest out just a little, noting that his eyes were locked on her breasts, lips parted with obvious desire.

He was hard—of course he was. It was still a revelation each time he revealed the thick, long length of himself. She still remembered the first night after months and months of dancing around their attraction. Nesta had been so sure she’d reach between his legs and find nothing waiting for her—just proof she’d made the entire thing up in her head.

“Don’t move,” Azriel ordered, his voice dark and bossy. Nesta stayed where she was as he climbed on the bed and sat himself against the headboard. He looked like a nightmare, wings spread wide, legs parted, cock jutting high in the air. “Crawl to me, Nes.”

Nesta did as he asked with exaggerated slowness, making her way toward him until she was eye level with his cock. She licked the length of it, holding his gaze. Azriel exhaled, shaking his head. “Get in my lap, sweetheart.”

Her relief threatened to choke her.

Swinging a leg over his hips, Nesta rubbed her dripping cunt against the head of his cock. Azriel’s head fell back against the headboard with a thud, eyes fluttering shut. She might have thought him totally gone had he not reached for her breasts, taking one in each of his large hands and squeezing lightly.

“You’re so cruel,” Azriel whispered, leaning forward to brush his lips against her neck. “What have I done to deserve your hatred, Nesta?”

“I don’t hate you,” she protested, sinking slowly down his shaft. Azriel groaned louder this time. I love you.

It hung between them screaming loud despite having never been spoken aloud.

Azriel’s hands skimmed down the sides of her body, pulling her flush against him roughly. Nesta gasped, squeezed tight around the length of him. She’d never be used to the sheer size of his body, would never adjust like she’d once thought she might. The look of satisfaction on his face told her he didn’t want her to get used to him. He liked the time she spent breathing through parted lips and squeezing herself around him, trying to relax so she could wholly enjoy herself.

“You’re so tight,” he praised. “So wet for me.”

Digging her nails into his tattooed chest, Nesta replied, “You’re chatty tonight.”

He smiled and oh, the sight made her heart ache. He was so impossibly beautiful. Did he even know it? Nesta didn’t move, distracted by a thought that had wormed its way into her mind months earlier. How were mates chosen? Didn’t the mother recognize she and Azriel shared pieces of the same soul? He couldn’t see how utterly lovely he was, would never believe anyone could love him.

But she could. Just as Azriel had loved her long before anyone else had and Nesta wished, more than anything, that it had been him.

Azriel rolled her hips, pulling her back to the present. “Stay with me now,” he murmured, kissing her with glossy lips. Nesta let him, matching his slow, steady rhythm while bracing herself on his shoulders. It was easy enough to reach for one of his wings even with her eyes closed. She knew what he liked, had once spent an entire evening teaching her every spot she could touch and the response it might elicit.

Some pleasure.

Some pain.

Azriel liked a mix of both under the right circumstances. A torrent of memories flooded through her—nights spent tying him up, his knife in her hand. That wasn’t this night, though. And Nesta couldn’t let him go—not the way he expected her to. Not like everyone else did. Wordlessly, without explanation.

Without telling him what he meant to her.

Gripping his face, his cock still buried in her body, Nesta forced Azriel to look at her. “Tell me to leave. Ask me to stay with you.”

Pain flashed across his features. Azriel wrapped his arms around her body, crushing her against his chest as his hips began to move faster, with more urgency.

“I can’t,” he said, forehead pressed to her own. “I can’t do that.”

“Please,” she whispered.

“In another life we could be selfish,” he told her, and she knew there would be no pleading with him on this. He wouldn’t betray his friend, his brother—not completely. And Nesta knew if she left, Azriel would still be firm in his resolve.

“This isn’t goodbye,” she said, well aware her words were a lie.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Azriel agreed, brushing his thumb against her cheek.

But it was goodbye and they both knew it. This was all that was left for the two of them and Nesta was going to hold on to it for as long as she could—though in the end, it wasn’t long enough. They couldn’t hold off, sweat slicked bodies pressed tight. Azriel whimpered softly, the only indication he was close. Nesta wasn’t going to cry.

So she came loudly, letting all her feelings out in that one, strangled cry. This was all that was left between them. Azriel’s hold on her body was punishing, legs drawn up as he pumped himself into her desperately.

She should have left him, then. Should have gotten up, redressed, and gone to bed. Nesta had to be up early—Gwyn and Emerie would be arriving with the sun if Elain and Feyre didn’t beat them first. Everyone would descend on them, excited for the first real, semi-royal wedding the Night Court had seen in centuries.

Azriel must have been thinking it, too.

“Let me clean you up,” he whispered with a hoarse whisper.

“Stay with me until the sun comes up?” she asked.

Azriel brushed his fingers over her lips. “I’ll stay here as long as you need me.”

Their eyes met. Azriel would never leave.

And Nesta wouldn’t, either.

#nezriel #nesta archeron #azriel shadowsinger

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wexhappyxfew · 3 months

Text

light up my lover's way

BLIND DATES FEST 2024

featuring: Florence 'Flo' Godfrey and Captain Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco + Meatball being the ultimate wingman Absolutely beyond excited to put this out. Florence has been living in my brain for some time, but Masters of the Air and @blind-dates-fest (thank you Merc for the fun!) offered the perfect opportunity to do some writing and recently, with the episodes we've gotten, I've become a big DeMarco fan and wanted to see what I could do. I tried to really nail down how I could write him since we don't have a whole lot of content from him, and I didn't feel the most comfortable writing in the MoTA universe yet just because I wanted to see all the episodes first, but I wanted to give it the old college try and really enjoyed how this piece and how Florence came out! She was a treat to write and considering her story, this was a night for her well deserved! I missed out last year because of school stress and this year, wanted to be kinder to myself and allow some time to test out the waters with writing in MoTA. Please enjoy Flo and her time with DeMarco! :)

The mirror stared back at her with a more than poignant look on her face, as she gazed at her rugged-looking hair that had surely seen better days.

Extensive time out in the sun on the tarmac, with plenty of harsh oils and chemicals meant for planes and not exactly hair would do the trick though. Self-assured, she reached back and ripped a brush through the caramel ends of her hair that were in need of cutting and sighed quietly to herself before glancing back at her reflection.

Lemmons had encouraged her to take the night off - you've been working hard, Godfrey, take the night to get a drink or better yet, a full night of sleep where you're not thinking entirely about all things plane-related. She'd been pretty hesitant, she'd even told him that he was the one who needed the night off, but he'd quickly brushed some dirt off her shoulder, helped her scrub out the paint stain from her OD jacket and then promptly shoved her off in the direction of the celebration in the nearby hall that a good portion of the men and pilots had gathered into. She'd taken the time to gather herself, clean herself up and look presentable, but she was left appearing hesitant to even leave her room.

Florence Godfrey felt more mechanic some days than woman, but on days like that, she usually found some of the Red Cross girls and spent nights trading cigarettes, telling stories and sharing coffee from the potbelly stove in the corner that worked to keep them all warm. Sometimes, she tried to work so stringently that when she got in, she'd lay down and reflect and cry.

But, tonight wouldn't be one of those nights, no, her hands weren't covered in grease, her hair wasn't matted with sweat and her boots weren't soaked with mud and ice-cold water.

No, she actually had washed up, powdered her face, pulled a bit of lipstick onto her slightly chapped lips, and smiled to herself, the dress that fell below her knees a beautiful baby-bird blue.

Lemmons had been right - finally do something for yourself, give yourself the wheel of life. She wanted to do that for herself, more than anything.

The celebration in the hall was dying down - she took a glance at her watch - it was past midnight and people were slowly pouring out, a few couples still slowly swaying in the middle of the floor, some others milling about or talking quietly with gentle smiles in corners outside of the main doors.

Florence smiled quietly to herself - even just to get a drink that wasn't her inhaling water to keep herself from feeling parched. She'd never really allowed herself a freedom like this away from the planes, away from the other mechanics and ground crewmen. She'd always told herself to do her job, do what was needed of her and then bed out and wake the next time she was needed. She had always been like that though ever since working with Dad at the Navy Yard as a 9-year-old, learning all the bits and bobs that made things run and function.

Florence waded into the softly lit bar where only a few people were still at, finishing last minute drinks or basking in the quietly gleaming Billie Holiday singing 'If You Were Mine' over the speakers in the corners of the room. Florence walked up to the edge of the bar and offered a smile at the bartender who came towards her and offered a smile back and nodded.

"What can I interest you in tonight, Miss….?"

"Godfrey. Florence Godfrey," Florence said with a soft smile, "I'll take a French 75 if it's possible." The bartender smiled with a nod and turned away, whisking himself away to start prepping. Florence grinned to herself and then looked up towards the wooden ceiling, covered in pretty lights and patterned carvings.

Suddenly, she felt a presence at her….feet? Florence took a moment to think before looking down and seeing a beautiful, gray dog sniffing at her shoes, a brown harness around his soft fur and his puppy-dog eyes quickly looking up at her in excitement and glee.

"Awe, hello there!" Florence said, kneeling down in front of the mixed-husky dog, petting his face, her heart immediately softening at the sight as she laughed quietly to herself, "Aren't you the prettiest thing I've seen in months." The dog licked at her cheeks and she let out a laugh as she rubbed behind his ears, the dog's tongue hanging out as his whole body seemed to shake with excitement, tail in all directions.

"Hey, Meatball, don't go sneaking up on the ladies," a voice called from behind the dog.

Florence looked up from, if she caught the name correctly - Meatball, the dog - and found instead one of the pilots of the B-17s walking towards her, gentle eyes lingering on her, long enough for a crimson color to rush her cheeks, his hair dark and nicely cut and styled, and the small smile on his face suddenly making her think that this pilot was actually the prettiest thing she'd seen in months. Florence felt a warmth enter her body, a quiet calm overcoming her as she felt an uncontrollable smile cross her lips, as she slowly rose back to her feet and watched the pilot come closer, the thrum of a quiet Louis Armstrong song entering her ears.

"Italian or Swedish?" Florence couldn't help but say as the pilot neared, his eyes deep and dark, but soothing and welcoming all the same. The pilot let out a soft laugh, his eyes trailing down to Meatball, the dog - she'd never get over how adorable that was - before looking to her.

"Italian." he said, with a nod, "Why? Don't think he fits the part?" Florence let out a quiet laugh and kneeled down again to Meatball and scratched beside his little head and laughed.

"I think he's adorable," she said, "how'd you get a hold on him?" The pilot smiled at her and leaned against the bar.

"Boarded a B-17 with me back in Greenland, was a real good sport the whole flight," the pilot said and then shrugged a bit, "I think I convinced him that he'd make a good co-pilot." Florence laughed as she stood to her feet again and looked at him with soft eyes.

"I don't think it'd be proper of me to only think of you as Meatball's Dad," she said, watching the small smile on his face quickly grow, "gotta name?"

"DeMarco. Captain Bernard DeMarco, but you can just call me DeMarco, whatever suites your fancy." he said, before chuckling slightly, before imitating, "Some of the guys like to yell, DeMarcooooo!" Then he looked to her and smiled.

"You don't have to do all that though," he said, leaning closer slightly, "Benny'll do just fine. Special cases." Florence stared at him quietly for a moment and then grinned.

"Benny it is…..Captain," she said, before holding out a hand, "Godfrey. Florence Godfrey, but you can just call me Godfrey, whatever suites your fancy." She smirked slightly at his face as he reached out and shook her hand.

"Some of the guys I work with like to yell," and she woefully imitated Lemmons, "Godfreyyyyy!" She then leaned closer to him and smiled up into his beautiful, tender eyes.

"You don't have to do all that though," she whispered, "Flo'll do just fine…..special cases." Benny stared at her for a moment, before breaking out into a wide smile and gently holding her hand in between them like a sacred piece of life.

"Goddess of flowers," he whispered quietly, his voice a soft rumble, "Flo." She smiled up at him.

"Ma thought it was pretty." she offered to him. He smiled at her in the dimmed light of the bar, that Ella Fitzgerald song she was always forgetting the name of somewhere above their heads, eyes warm and simply, only on her.

"Your Ma was right." he said back to her, staring at her with genuineness and fullness in his eyes. She felt her face warm and let out a laugh at his words, covering her mouth as she did so. Looking back up at him, she watched him stare right back at her and smiled as her hand fell from her mouth.

"I've never seen you around in here before," he said softly, "couldn't help but introduce myself, or well, Meatball, for introducing us." Florence looked down to Meatball, sat patiently staring up between them with his ever-caring eyes that dogs always seemed to have.

"He likes you," Benny said, his hand, which evidently was larger than hers, still clasped around her own, with no sign of disconnecting soon, "he's a friendly fella, but he don't just go up to anyone." Florence's eyes softened as she rubbed her free hand on top of Meatball's soft little head and glanced to Benny again.

"Dogs are probably some of the best creatures to ever walk to Earth," she said with a smile, "Sometimes they know us better than ourselves. I like to think sometimes they're protecting us, or….just there to guide us, be with us, give us someone who unconditionally loves you, ya know?" Benny's smile on his face was something that engrained itself quickly in her mind and he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said softly, "I like to think of it that way, too." For a moment, as Ella Fitzgerald sang her part, the gentle thrum of a bass and brass to follow, they watched each other as if taking in the very quiet moment they had there between one another that night. An unexpected chance for Florence to get out of her normal gear and into a dress, to have her hands free of grease for the first time in a while, and to be looked at by a man with the softest eyes she'd ever seen - with a dog named after an Italian meatball no less.

"I'd ask for your hand in a dance, but I'm afraid that French 75 is calling your name and Meatball would take offense," Benny said, his eyes seemingly nervously flitting to the drink that had appeared at her side before meeting hers again, "and I know you're one of the women who works with the ground crews….I'd hate to steal an evening away from a good drink." Florence watched him.

"You know I work with the ground crews?" Benny nodded with a smile.

"You hang around Lemmons a lot," Benny offered, "and you work hard. We all see that. Buck does, too. Mentioned you were the best of the best. Didn't want to be too forward when I heard you tell the bartender your name." Florence watched him, as he gave Meatball a smile and a pet on the head before he looked to her again.

"Ma didn't raise me to be impolite either," he said with a nod, "and you've earned an off night like this and a drink like that."

"And a night getting to talk to a man like you." Florence said quietly to him, her heart starting to pound as he watched her - no one ever really had mentioned her in the way he had, having noticed her before and even made the effort to talk to her like he had. Her palms felt sweaty, and her mouth felt dry. Benny watched her for a moment as she took a sip of her drink and then looked to him.

"I'd be more than happy to spend a night dancing with you," she whispered.

There was something unspoken behind her words - like the realization was still there, they just hadn't mentioned in. In war, moments like this were precious and sheltered and held close in the palms of their hands. A night with someone with tender eyes was worth more than enough money in the world to her, especially in wartime. The thought saddened her heart and her mind as she stared at Benny DeMarco, with that million-dollar smile and those eyes. Benny let out a shaky breath that he looked like he'd been holding in and reached forward to take her hands in his and leaned forward the slightest bit so the only things she could see and hear were him and his voice.

"With you? I'd consider it a privilege." he whispered and then pressed a soft kiss to her hands clasped in his and then gently pulled her towards the open dance floor where only a few couples were left and had made it this late in the night. Wrapped in each other's warm embraces there in the middle of the floor, Billie Holiday's voice singing in the eves, and the gentle sway of their bodies so intimately close there, Florence let herself dance softly that night with Benny DeMarco.

Florence let herself live a bit for once.

#yeah i love them #THEM #*holds gently in hands*#*sobs*#florence 'flo' godfrey #bernard demarco #+meatball fav of favs #love meatball being the wingman #masters of the air #hbo war #mota #blind dates fest 2024 #this was an utter JOY to write i hope anyone who reads also enjoys!!!#love these two with my whole heart!#flo deserves to live a little :)#mota writings

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 5 months

Note

By Camila Tominey,

“Just as I have always admired the seamless way the Duchess of Sussex’s truth has sometimes clashed with fact, so too do I have a grudging respect for Omid Scobie.

"Lest we forget, this is a man who spent a decade raking over celebrities’ private lives for US Weekly, only to brazenly tweet in 2021: “Privacy means freedom from *unauthorised* intrusion. It is the right to choose what you share with others and what you don’t. That’s it!

"At the time, such outbursts left journalists like me in disbelief. Wasn’t this the guy whose entire career was built on analysing snatched paparazzi images of the rich and famous? Imagine our incredulity when Scobie launched into repeated attacks on the very royal press pack he followed around like a puppy. I saw with my own eyes how he tried to muscle in on the rota system in a bid to gain access to the very members of the Royal family he now seeks to trash in his second book, Endgame, which hit bookshelves on Tuesday.

"You have to admire the brass neck of the bloke, you really do. I remember one incident on a royal tour when he was literally begging me to tell him the sources of my various royal scoops. And to think he’s now so reluctant to discuss his own! Who on Earth could they be, I wonder?

"Perhaps the most amusing thing about Endgame is how much this fearless journalist gets wrong in his tireless pursuit of Meghan’s truth. “Palace aides were racking their brains to remember the ‘five’ private secretaries who have come and gone from the Duchess of Cambridge’s office (there have been three). And contrary to the claim ‘you’d be unlikely to read about it in any British newspaper’, The Telegraph reported on exactly that staffing issue last week.

"Hey, but why let facts get in the way of a good story? In one passage, I am described as The Telegraph’s Royal Editor – which I’m not and never have been. Referring to a piece I had written about the now infamous dog bowl incident, in which I suggested that it showed how much love William has for his little brother that he felt the need to physically wrestle him to the ground, Scobie comments that I sound like the “excuses of domestic abusers everywhere.”

"Domestic abuse? Is that what we are calling sibling rivalry these days? We are now being asked to believe that it was a “translation error” that the names of two “alleged” royal racists had been left in the now-pulled Dutch copies of Endgame – even though they were completely absent from the English version. And we’re supposed to accept this narrative even after Scobie had bragged on US television that he knew the names of both alleged racists?

"You know, I really thought I’d seen it all when Meghan told Oprah, with a straight face, that the Archbishop of Canterbury had married them three days before their official wedding ceremony; that she’d had her passport confiscated only to jet off on multiple holidays; that Kate had made her cry and not the other way round.

"I thought I’d heard it all when “sources” close to these two multi-millionaires (who were still receiving a £700,000 allowance from the King after Megxit) revealed the couple were so “desperate” they had no choice but to sign deals with Netflix et al – even though we know they were speaking to streaming companies as early as 2018, a whole two years before they stepped down as “working” members of the Royal family.

"I thought I’d heard it all when Scobie, of all people, claimed to be both a champion of privacy and an accountable press, only to publish not one, but two completely unauthorised intrusions into the lives of the Royal family so lacking in balance as to be laughable. We must believe all victims of bullying, insists Scobie (who was comforted by Meghan when he copped the kind of flak we all get, day in and day out on social media), except when they’re accusing the Sussexes of it. You really couldn’t make it up."

Thanks!

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toms-cherry-trees · 1 year

Note

Hey hey Mars! ☺️ I’m back with another gif for your celebration!! (I hope it’s ok that I’ve sent in 2…I love your range of writing abilities and couldn’t only send in fluff)

How about this one:

Would you be able to create something angsty using this??

Excited to see what you come up with!! 💕

Hey babes! I am TERRIBLY sorry for how long this has taken but my 9 to 8 job keeps getting in the way of creativity

Mars 1.5k Celebration

Business || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Implied infidelity, Tommy being an absolute asshole, sort of an anxiety attack

Your head is spinning. The world comes to a halt. You are sure the ground has cracked beneath your feet and plunged you into the depths of the greatest hell the world has ever known. Your fingers dig onto the edge of the desk for support. Lips quivering, parted into a silent question. All because the man sitting before you, the man whom you love and adore unconditionally, has informed you he is getting married to another woman.

The tense seconds morph into minutes, all while you watch Tommy scribble down some documents, cigarette perched upon his lips, calm and collected as if he hadn’t just taken your heart and flung it from the top of the Clock of Westminster. You ache to find in his face any sign of regret, of pain, any clue that he is hurting as much as you are, but you are met only with emptiness

You cannot bear this any longer. A thousand questions pile upon your lips, striving to escape, but only one single word manages to emerge from the depths of your throat, raspy and shaky “Why?”

Tommy has his answer ready, of course. He is always ready, or he thinks he is. Foreshadowing everything that will happen, knowing exactly how those under or over him will behave. Time and experience clearly failed to teach him that not all variables can be predicted.

“It is the only way they will side with us. We need all the allies we can gather. And with their support we will have free access to commercialise opium all over Europe. America is a promising market but until we don’t have full control of it, we need to branch out”

His reply is so derisory a laugh escapes you. What do you care about opium deals or favourable deals? What is it to you about the wants of his potential business partners? All you see is the man who holds your heart casting you aside like a cigarette butt.

“An arranged marriage, Tommy? Are you listening to yourself? This is no 1875, love. It's the modern world. Arranged betrothals are for the princes and dukes and folks of the sort, not for people like you and me. Marrying whoever we want is one of the few freedoms we possess, and you are letting them take it away from you for what? More money? More power?”

Tommy’s greed remained a perennial tense spot in your relationship. He always wanted more; more money, more power, more recognition. And he continued to trade his happiness for that. Ambitions had nearly cost him his sister, and had lost him a brother as well.

Now he had traded the love of his life.

“It is all part of a plan for a greater purpose. I marry her to please her father, and once we have secured the markets and exploited their resources, I will have us annulled on grounds of non-consummation and forced marriage. My lawyer already looked into it. Once everything has calmed, we can get married you and I”

You want to laugh. Laugh at his audacity, at the nerve he must have to think you will stand to come in second place. Not in second to this other woman, whoever she is. In second place to his ambitions. Because right now you see, rolling before your very eyes like a cheap movie, what your life with him would be like. You would never be a priority, nor would be any children born from you. Always shadowed by the veritable breadth of Tommy’s ego.

You also want to cry. Cry out your frustrations, your anger, your immeasurable pain. The man sitting before you does not resemble the man you fell in love with. Not by one inch. They bear the same name but that’s where it ends. Because the Thomas you loved had eyes of a clear blue matching a gentle spring sky, not shards of the deepest ice sending shivers through your bones. The Tommy you love did not bear a perpetual scowl, the jaw always tense and the fists always tense.

The man you love used to smile.

“And where does my opinion lie within your plans? My feelings, my dignity? Are you sending me an invitation as well? Maybe I will catch her bouquet and reuse it for our own nuptials. Do you think I will sit back and watch you-”

“It already happened”

You hoped the surprises would be over, but this new bucket of ice pouring over your head felt like a low blow straight to the gut. Amidst your silence, Tommy pulls out a piece of paper from a folder and slides it over to you. You only read ‘Birmingham registry’ and ‘marriage certificate’. You don’t need to read more. Who knew a single sheet of paper could cause such anguish? Your vision is blurry, and you don’t know if your eyes have flooded with tears or if you are about to faint. You sway in your chair, and you actually have to hold onto the desk for balance. If Tommy had laid a gun and this certificate before you and asked you to choose, you would have chosen the gun. The pains of the flesh cannot be as bad as the agony you are submerged in.

The man before you, a man you don’t know, clears his throat and lights another cigarette “They worried I would back out, so I agreed to an immediate civil ceremony to appease them”

Your body moves against your will, because you no longer have a will. Your brain and your body are disconnected; if they were in tune, you would have stopped breathing long ago, for you no longer remember how to. Every inhale feels like molten lead clogging your lungs and weighing your body. You are clumsy; disoriented. Your heel catches on a board, making you stumble as you get up. In attempts to stabilise you, your hand knocks over an ink pot, spilling it over the document. You do not remember how or when you fastened your coat or grabbed your purse. Tommy calls your name, but he does not move from his seat to pursue you from your escape. The secretaries ask if you feel well, if you need something, but her voices are white noise in your ears. You think you pushed one away, or maybe not, you only felt the clattering of breaking porcelain and tea spilling on your shoes.

It’s raining. It is spring but it's raining. The cold beads slide into the neck of your coat and down your spine. Your driver awaits with an umbrella, his smile fading into a frown when you walk past him, past the car, past the office and everyone inside it. Your foot slips on the damp cobblestones and you crash your shoulder into the wall, your hand seeking grip on the rough bricks. People behind you call your name, or the name of the one you used to be. You are not the same woman who entered that office.

You feel a pair of hands on you. Fleeting hope flashes in your heart, but the weak ember dies as quickly as it came to life. It is your driver, holding your weight since he noticed your knees threatening to buckle. You don’t know how but now you are sitting in the back of the car, drenched to the bone. The driver keeps asking you where to go, but you have no answer. You want to say home, but home is no longer your home. The rain halted, there is no wind outside. You look down to your wrist watch and you notice you forgot to wind it. The hands froze at 6 pm, the second you set foot inside that man’s office.

The world has stopped.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby imagine #mars 1.5k celebration #marsie writes

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter eight

summary: you and bradley spend three days in encinitas on your proverbial honeymoon and make a big decision about your relationship.

warnings: smut, fluff, minor angst, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 4.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: this is an exclusively rooster x whiskey chapter and gets a little smutty. this is the second to last part, so next chapter i'll wrap up the rom-com of these four. i'm going back to work and very much want to finish this nine chapter adventure before i do. however, i AM planning on writing a more extended oneshot that catches up with these guys a year and a half later so i'm definitely not done with these four.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

Friday

“Look at us! We’re almost normal,” you comment, optimistically as you breathe in the bright California air. Sometimes, when you’re on leave, you can almost trick yourself into believing you’re a civilian. “No one would know by looking at us that you just saved the world!”

“And almost died trying,” Bradley grumbles as a reminder the job you share is rarely ever that glamorous.

Bradley holds your hand in his as the two of you walk along the beach. The drive up hadn’t been long, but you’d been eager to go for a walk after arriving. Once you’d arrived, Bradley had barely been able to put his seabag down before you’d practically tugged him outside across onto deck, past the gorgeous private pool, and off to the beach.

“That’s what I mean! We’re not aviators this weekend. We’re not facing near-death today! We’re just… two normal people who don’t have to worry about deployments or fighter jets or top secret missions funded and backed by the pentagon,” you continue, celebrating the freedom you’re leaning into on this particular leave.

“Probably shouldn’t say that too loudly,” Bradley coughs, scanning the beach for any curious listeners.

“Ahhhh yes, you’re right,” you mumble, lowering your voice.

“But I like where this is going. We’re just… Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chimes in, playing along with you. “You know… the boring ones. Not like... the spy assassin ones.”

“Right, right. Because there’s a fine line, Bradshaw,” you fire back.

He laughs in response with a shake of his head, his eyes full of endearment towards you.

“Okay so… how’d we meet?” you ask, turning to steal a glance Bradley’s way.

“How does anyone meet these days?! On an app?” he answers, in his best well-duh tone of voice.

“No!” you cry out, giving his arm a little shake. He laughs again, giving your hand a squeeze in return. God, no one’s made him laugh this much in a long time. He shoots you a quizzical look as you clarify with, “C’mon! There’s no romance in that! No, we uh… we definitely had a meet-cute.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic, Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chuckles as he teases you, giving your hand another squeeze.

“Okay then. Tell me more about this meet-cute.”

“Okay hmmmm… so you’re…” you trail off, before letting the silliest, furthest away from reality thing tumble out of your mouth. “... a yoga instructor.”

“What?!” he yelps, his eyes widening at the ridiculous sentiment.

“And I'm… a chef who’s just recently moved to San Diego to open up yet another fusion restaurant gentrifying small surf towns across the nation,” you continue, making sure your faux-job feels just as silly as his does.

“Wait. Why am I the yoga instructor!? I can’t even touch my toes,” he backtracks, alarmingly.

You laugh, “Because it’s funny! And maybe the furthest thing away from what we actually do.”

“Okay fine. I’m a yoga instructor,” he grumbles, resigning himself to his new pretend-occupation. “But I’m not growing out a man bun.”

“No, the mustache alone gives you enough street-cred. Or rather, hipster-cred, if you will,” you reply, playfully.

“You like the mustache,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I definitely like the mustache,” you smirk. “In fact, that’s how we met. I spotted that mustache across the room in a coffee shop, made sure to let you know that, even though they don’t really do it for me, yours was pretty cool, which of course led you to inviting me to the yoga studio that you own.”

“Which was just an excuse to see you again,” Bradley adds, playing along.

“Exactly,” you giggle, as the story continues to grow more and more ridiculous. “… And well, you know what they say! The rest was history.”

“You are so silly,” Bradley chuckles, releasing your hand as he wraps an arm around your shoulders instead.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Bradshaw,” you giggle, your sliding around his waist. “Oh! That reminds me. We need to go to the grocery store.”

“I thought you said we could stay in bed all weekend,” Bradley challenges, his tone light.

“Fuel,” you shrug, coquettishly.

“Besides, I’m cooking you dinner tonight.”

“Well, you are the chef between the two of us.”

“Now, you’re catching on.”

It’s later that night that Bradley learns that while you gave him the job furthest away from reality, the possibility of you being a chef was a lot more probable. He watches you create a lemon-scented pan sauce, his mind wandering back to earlier when he’d been surprised by your knife skills.

“Holy shit! You really cook?!” he practically exclaims in the middle of the state-of-the-art home kitchen you’re occupying all weekend.

“Guilty,” you answer, as if it’s some kind of confession. “If I hadn’t gotten into the Naval Academy, I was going to go to culinary school. Just one psycho thing for the next.”

You coat the back of a spoon so that you can taste the sauce for seasoning:

Salt levels are good. Shallots are perfectly caramelized. Capers add the right amount of tang to it.

You scoop up another pool of the liquid in the spoon once more, offering it to Bradley.

“Come try this,” you say. “It’s a lemon chicken piccata. I think you’ll really like it.” You hold the spoon up to his lips, watching as Bradley tastes the lemon butter pan sauce.

As soon as the sauce hits his tongue, you watch as he closes his eyes, in total disbelief.

“Holy shit. This is un-fucking-real, honey,” he says, the term of endearment making you blush a little.

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.

As you pull away, he pulls you back for another kiss before murmuring against your lips, “Though I think I like it better on you.”

Holy shit, is that hot.

As Bradley releases you, it’s almost as if you’ve forgotten to breathe. Your head feels light and you have to remind yourself to take a deep breath.

“I won’t distract you any longer. Sooner we finish up dinner, the sooner I get you naked,” he coos, his hands dragging across your hips as he pulls away.

Jeez, this man is perfect, you think to yourself.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

As you sit down to dinner with your lemon chicken piccata and a funky orange wine, you learn that Bradley can’t cook to save his life. You can’t believe that after two and a half weeks of the craziest of training, you’ve managed to find yourself on your proverbial honeymoon with a guy you’re quite sure is perfect. Sure, he’s got enough baggage to sink the USS Roosevelt, but you’re not sure you mind. He is, after all, who he is because of it.

He finishes telling you another story from his days at UVA and you’re caught in a fit of giggles as you watch how animated he gets as tells you about his college-day shenanigans.

“What?” he asks you, seeing the look on your face.

You know you probably look like you’ve got goddamn hearts for pupils at this point, so your answer is simple:

“The more I learn about you, the more I like you, Bradshaw.”

He blushes.

“I really like you too, Whiskey.”

Saturday morning:

Rooster Bradshaw thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

It doesn’t feel real.

As you stand there in the middle of the kitchen, clad only in his NAVY tee, it’s as if the domestic bliss he’s always craved is right in front of him.

This is all he’s ever wanted.

Bradley’s frozen for a second, paused in a moment in time. Ever since his mother died, there’s been a hole in his heart he’s never been able to fill – not with girlfriends, not with work, not even with himself. It’s this hole in his heart that yearns for a family – that allows himself to be taken care of, to be cherished, to be loved. But he can feel something, this feeling, swelling in his chest as he watches you make breakfast in the way-too-fancy home kitchen after knowing you for barely three weeks.

Now that he’s proven himself in the Navy, maybe he could begin healing his relationship with Mav. He could let himself open up to you. Maybe the part of his healing he’s been missing… is letting himself be loved.

He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, but he figures it’s been long enough as you turn back around to him, sending him a curious look.

“Good morning, handsome. Coffee?” you greet him, with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen in his life.

And damn, he loves the way you look in his t-shirt.

“That would be great,” he answers, a lovestruck grin plastered to his face.

You hear the sounds of his footsteps before you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you in close to him from behind. You giggle, turning your head for a good morning kiss. Bradley’s lips are soft – a stark contrast from the rough texture of his mustache – earning another giggle from you.

You nod towards the french press on the counter that holds the coffee you’ve just made. There’s a second mug resting on the table that you pulled from the cabinets for him. He likes that you thought of him – thought to do that. He likes being thought of.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask, plating up two plates of eggs, bacon, sliced avocado, and a mix of berries you’d purchased yesterday.

“Great. How about you?” Bradley answers, a soft smile on his face as he watches you.

You wrap a hand around the edge of the plate while your other hand carries your coffee cup.

“Wonderfully. Why don’t you grab a fork and meet me out by the pool?” you tempt him, sending a wink his way before disappearing, heading towards the sliding glass doors that lead to the deck.

Instead of following suit, Bradley watches, taking this all in. He takes a few steps so that he can see you through the glass door. You sit down with your copy of today’s paper, while you snack on a few strawberries before picking up your fork to eat your soft scrambled eggs. Bradley swears under his breath, still in disbelief that this is real, before fixing his cup of coffee and taking his plate outside to join you.

“You know… I know we have the same one… but I think I like mine better on you,” Rooster says, taking a seat on the lounge chair next to the one you’ve posted up on.

You can practically feel your heart speed up, as you watch Bradley pop a strawberry into his mouth.

“Listen. I’m just relieved you own something other than the Hawaiian shirts,” you admit, a cheeky smile on your face.

“What’s wrong with my Hawaiian shirts?” he teases you with a wink.

“Absolutely nothing. But… it’s not like I can bring you as a wedding date in a printed shirt and jorts,” you tease him back, playfully.

As much as he likes to banter with you, he’s more focused on the fact that you’re thinking of ahead – thinking of the future with him.

“How do you feel about eventually making our way out to the beach today?” you propose, continuing with your breakfast.

“If we make it out… yeah,” Bradley replies, suggestively.

You smirk, “Well in that case, finish your breakfast. You’ll need the energy.”

You enjoy the poolside breakfast with him, handing him the sports section of the newspaper so that he can check out some of the baseball stats. You swap: the arts section for the sports section when he mentions maybe seeing if there’s a show you both could go to – making plans that you most likely won’t make anyways.

After breakfast, you pull Rooster’s NAVY shirt over your head, revealing your barely-covers-anything bikini you put on earlier.

“You wanna-?” you start asking, with every intention of getting in the pool.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, grabbing your hand.

Before you know it, Rooster’s thrown his empty breakfast plate on the small end table between both lounge chairs, pulling you back towards him. You follow, more than eager to explore exactly where this is going. As he pulls you down on top of him, you sit over his hips, just to feel how excited he’s gotten from seeing you in your bikini.

“You are such a tease,” he growls, bucking his hips up into you.

“I think you like it,” you smirk, leaning down to ghost your lips over his.

“Uh huh,” he answers, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

“Already, Roos?” you ask him, a devilish smile on your face as you grind your hips against him.

He hisses, pushing his hips up again as he answers, “Baby, you’ve had me this hard all weekend.”

You giggle, your lips finally meeting his, your tongues easily tangling together as your lips move in perfect time.

“I like these,” he says, his fingers dancing over your hips as works to untie your bikini bottoms.

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes filled with lust.

“Yeah,” he answers, untying one side completely.

Rooster sits up, flipping you over so that you’re now laying back against the lounge chair, earning something between a gasp and a laugh from you. Eagerly, he pulls your bikini bottoms off, tossing them somewhere on the deck as he covers your body with his in this new position.

“Rooster,” you moan, his mouth moving lower.

His lips and tongue are everywhere: your shoulders, your breasts, and rapidly making their way down your abdomen.

His hands pull your legs apart to make room for his shoulders as he watches you with a fire in his eyes. You know exactly where this is going, waiting impatiently for him to touch you. Bradley licks a broad stripe up your already wet heat, his tongue stopping to move around your clit as you throw your head back, his name on your lips.

“Bradley.”

“God, you taste so good, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, the hot sun kissing the both of you as he eats you out, right on the freaking pool lounge chair. He works at your clit, tracing little shapes around it as you moan his name, trying to remind yourself not to be too loud since your friends do have neighbors. As his tongue moves further down, his mustache bumping up against your most sensitive spots, your hands move straight into his brunette waves, bucking your hips up against his face.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you cry as you feel him begin fucking you with his tongue. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

You feel him smile against you, your words having unleashed something within him. From here forward, Rooster is relentless. He’s holding your hips down, pulling all kinds of sounds from your body as he continues to bring you heavenly pleasure with his tongue and his fingers.

“Fuck!” you cry, feeling that tight feeling in your abdomen as he pulls his fingers in and out of you.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Yes. God, yes. I’m so close!”

And it’s all he needs to hear to do whatever it takes to get you to cum, pulling you past the point of pleasure you thought you could feel. You come with a strangle moan, and before you know it, Bradley’s folding his body over yours once again. He presses his lips against yours and you can taste yourself on him, earning a moan from him as you kiss him with desperation.

“I hope your friends don’t have cameras out here,” he chuckles, in between kisses.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease.

“Jeez, sweetheart. If that’s what you’re into….”

You were going to be the death of him.

And, he decides, what a lovely way to go.

Sunday:

“Bradley!” you gasp, feeling that all-too-familiar tightening in your abdomen, as Bradley winds you up.

“You gonna cum?” he grits out, his hips driving into at a rapid pace. “Go ahead. Let go for me, baby.”

“Yesyesyes,” you’re practically chanting as you feel him so, so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, Bradley. I’m gonna-,” you pant, and he groans, feeling you squeezing around him. “Please make me cum.”

“God, I love it when you beg me. Shit. Holy shit, baby. Fuck,” Bradley grunts out, his face buried in the crevice of your neck. He whines your name so sweetly as he releases, finally stilling the motion of his hips.

Bradley lifts his head, still inside of you as he leans down to press a passionate kiss to your lips.

“Holy shit. How is it possible that it just keeps getting better and better?” you sigh, your back hitting the sheets as you catch your breath.

“I don’t know but… if we get any better at it I might go into cardiac arrest,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you.

“No!!” you cry out, dramatically.

The two of you settle into a quiet intimacy, as you turn over onto your side, wrapping yourself up in the sheets. Bradley notices a shift in you, but remains on his back as you prop your head up on your hand.

“I want to be with you,” you blurt out, causing Rooster to turn his head in your direction.

He can’t even hide the smile on his face as he hears your words.

“I want to be with you too, Whiskey,” he grins, his eyes as soft as the morning light.

“Oh thank god!” you say, letting out a sigh of relief, eliciting the most amused look from Bradley. But you pause, and he can tell that you’ve got something else on your mind as you continue with, “I just-, I guess I’m just wondering if-. Do you… think we’re moving too fast?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, curiously, rolling over onto his side so that he can match your body language with his own.

“I don’t know…” you hesitate with an ambivalent shrug. “We haven’t known each other for that long. Is it… totally wild to feel this way about someone after only three weeks?”

Bradley takes a beat, his chocolate brown eyes warm and filled with confidence.

“Maybe. But stranger things have happened and… Whiskey, I-. I think I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time,” Bradley answers genuinely.

“I think so too. Is that crazy?” you reply softly.

“If it is, then at least we’re both in it together,” he reassures you, pulling you over to him so that you can cuddle.

“Okay.”

“What do you want to do today?” you ask him, shifting a little to something more lighthearted.

Like you’d predicted, despite every intention of doing so, neither of you had made it out of the house this weekend aside from the occasional beach walk and for dinner last night in Leucadia. Not that you were complaining. The hot non-stop sex-a-thon and staying up to talk till the early hours of the morning were absolutely heaven… but you knew at some point you’d both have to resurface.

“I think I might go for a run,” Bradley replies, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“You haven’t gotten enough cardio?!” you practically shriek in surprise.

He chuckles, “Can’t take too many days off or I’ll lose my stamina, honey. Wanna come with?”

“Hmmm… I think I may just stay here… take a shower. Unlike you… I’m not a psychopath,” you joke.

He laughs, “Okay, okay. Then how about when I get back, I’ll take you out to breakfast and we can go from there.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree with a totally lovestruck smile.

After a few more kisses, Bradley manages to unwillingly pry himself out of bed to get ready for his morning run. He’s right. You both have to return to reality at some point, and it’s not a bad idea to try to work in some of your routine before you’re back on base. You might’ve even agreed to go on a run with him, but selfishly, you’d like the alone time because you have to call Nat.

Once Bradley is out of the house, you slip a t-shirt left on the floor from the night before, hurrying into the master bathroom. You quickly FaceTime Natasha, praying that she picks up, considering this is the first time you’ve had a moment to call.

“Hey! Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you till you got back,” Nat says as soon as she answers the call.

“Oh my God, Nat. I am in love with this man,” you say, incredulously.

“Are you talking about Rooster?” she asks.

“Yes, of course I’m talking about Rooster!” you exclaim, with a laugh.

“Jeez, Whiskey. How much sex are you guys having?!” she teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You… don’t want to know the answer to that,” you answer honestly.

“You’re right,” she nods, her voice dropping. “I don’t. I guess I don’t even need to ask how it’s going then.”

“So well. Too well. I-, we told each other that we want to give this a shot. A relationship,” you fill her in.

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“I mean... Whiskey, I think he’s ready to settle down with someone and… that’s why I wanted to introduce the two of you so badly. Don’t overthink it. Chalk it up to good timing,” she advises.

“Okay yes, but do you think this is too fast?” you ask, nervously.

“It’s… fast, sure. But it’s not like you’re getting married or anything,” she reassures you, before pausing. “You’re-... not getting married-.”

“Of course not!” you interrupt her, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You know what the proverbial they say: when you know you know,” Nat adds, trying her best to offer up a little more reassurance.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just trying to check in with myself. Make sure we’re being realistic, you know?” you vent. Truthfully, your hesitations have nothing to do with Rooster and everything to do with the fact that you haven’t chosen the best partners in the best. But Rooster? He’s near-perfect.

“Have you told him about your deployment yet?” Nat asks you.

You shake your head, “Not yet. I didn’t want it to be another thing to raise the stakes, you know? But I’m… I’m kind of nervous to.”

“Rooster knows how this goes. He’ll be fine,” she replies.

You nod slowly, “How are things going on your end?”

“Uh… good. Just waiting for you guys to get back before I head back up to LA,” Nat replies with the most casual tone in her voice. You eye her suspiciously, knowing that that can’t just be it.

“And Jake?” you ask, curiously.

“What about Jake?” she asks back, earning a funny look from you.

Okay, Trace.

If she needs it spelled out, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“Have you guys talked or are the two of you still just fucking each others’ brains out?” you rephrase, putting it bluntly.

Natasha rolls her at eyes at your crass comment before answering, “More so the latter,”

“Got it.”

You take a beat, not wanting to overstep, but then again this is the woman that quite literally parent-trapped you and Rooster.

“It would be okay, Nat… if you had feelings for him,” you begin, cautiously.

“Whiskey, I don’t-,” but she can’t finish the sentence. She knows she can’t finish that sentence because it would be a lie. And when has she ever been able to bullshit you? If anything, you’re the person who knows both her and Jake the best.

She takes a beat before opening her mouth to say something else, “I don’t know if I’m ready. For that.”

You nod slowly, “And that’s okay too. You’re just gonna have to tell him.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs, dissatisfied with the resolution she’s come to. She changes the subject and you talk about a few other things. Who else is going on the next deployment from the Dagger Squad. Having lunch solo with Halo. That Maverick and Penny seemed to be a thing.

“Hey uh… I gotta run but, we’ll talk. When you’re back,” Natasha says, as she realizes what time it is.

“Yeah of course,” you agree.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” she smiles, signing off.

“Bye, Nat.”

You take a breath after hanging up the phone with Nat. Maybe you wish that she and Jake could just figure it out, but you also know that they’re not exactly those people. They’re actually the most stubborn people you know. You run the shower for a minute or so, waiting for it to come up to temp before stepping in, letting the water help you think through things.

You and Bradley were different. Both of you were looking for something – a relationship – and had found a connection with each other that felt good. It felt right to be with him, even if the idea of falling in love with him terrified you – even if it felt like the two of you were on the fast track. But Jake and Natasha? You’ve always felt like they were more similar than either of them would admit. They’d have to really want it, really want to be together to make it work, and it doesn’t seem like either of them are there yet.

You finish up your shower, enjoying a little you-time before Bradley gets back. You haven’t exactly had that much since you got here, but you know you’ll have plenty when you return to Lemoore. After shutting off the water and drying your hair as best as you can with just the towel, you wrap a second towel around your body before heading back into the bedroom.

Only, you see something you’re not expecting – something you weren’t quite ready for.

“Bradley…” is all that comes out of your mouth as you see him.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tanned skin glistening from his run while he holds loose papers in his hands.

Papers.

Those papers.

Your papers.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asks, looking up from your deployment papers.

“Bradley. I’m sorry,” you repeat, your voice shaking a little.

You take a few steps towards him, stopping so that you can sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

“I don't know…” you answer, honestly. “I guess I just thought-. We've clouded our judgment with hot sex all weekend….” You laugh nervously. “... and all of this has just been so intense – between the mission, and you almost dying, and… – I didn’t want my deployment to change the outcome of this weekend.”

You wait for him to answer, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he listens to you. You’re right. The parameters of the mission, your hookup, all of it has been so high stakes. He’d be a fool to deny it. But it doesn’t change how crazy he is about you. He thinks he’d feel this crazy about you if he met you in the supermarket, not in training for a suicide mission.

“I understand,” he says, his voice low as he turns to you. “But I wish you had told me.”

“Would it have changed anything for you?” you ask, stealing a glance his way.

“No,” he reassures you, his voice softening. He slips an arm around your bare shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “I just-, I don’t know. I guess I thought we’d have more time before we had to deal with… all of this.”

You nod, “I know. I should’ve told you earlier.”

“You still want to do this?” you ask again, with a nervous flutter in the bottom of your belly.

“Yeah, of course,” he admits with a smile. “But it’s not going to be easy and… I guess… these papers just reminded me of that.”

You turn your body towards him so that you’re facing him, no longer sitting side by side. Bradley runs his fingers through your wet locks, eventually moving to cup your face. There’s a sadness in his eyes and you can see that the reality of your jobs has set in.

“I kinda wish I was still a yoga instructor and you were some hot shot chef,” he chuckles, trying his best to make light of the situation.

“Me too,” you agree. “It’ll only be a month. And… then maybe once Cyclone has all the data he needs… they’ll make our detachment official. We-... won’t have to be apart.”

Bradley nods, “Yeah. We’re gonna figure this out together, sweetheart. I know it.”

You smile in response. How is this man real?

“How can you be sure?” you ask him, hopefully.

“I can just feel it,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you. He touches his lips to yours before pulling back to ask, “What would you say to getting back in the shower?”

You smirk, “Lead the way, handsome.”

read: chapter nine

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