#Dawn Before the Rest of the World series

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (12)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 11k wc. finally. i wrote this with only one eye open so please don't mind the inconsistencies, i'm trying my best to tie any loose ends before we reach the ending. if the writing feels rushed, it’s bcos i’m just ready to wrap up this series 😭

series masterlist -> episode thirteen

You thought everything that had happened last night was just a dream. 

Because you had gotten used to the constant disappointments and vicissitudes of your life, sharing such domestic bliss with the person you loved had started to feel far-fetched for you. It had become an unachievable fantasy, a colorful delusion created by your mind to conceal the actual darkness of pain that surrounded it. 

But as you opened your eyes that morning, the familiar warmth of a sleeping Satoru’s embrace was the reality you never saw coming. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal—like a fragile dream teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now. To forget about the rest of the damn world and remain in his arms, staring at his beautiful saintly face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.

When Satoru stirred from his sleep, you knew your daydream was over. But he was pulling you dangerously close with arms wrapped around your frame and his lips pressed against your forehead. He was only half-awake, it seemed. His long white lashes reminded you of Sachiro’s as you watched him mumble incoherent words from his sleep, something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Akemi’. 

That was your cue to pull yourself away from him. With guilt now coursing through your body, you sat up from bed and covered your naked body with the duvet. Akemi. You had completely abandoned the thought of Akemi last night, and now you were here in bed with ‘supposedly’ her man. As much as your heart was in bliss from last night’s events, the dark and cold reality was that you slept with a man who wasn’t yours. It was a principle you told yourself you would never cross, but everything concerning Satoru Gojou seemed to be bringing you to that. 

“Satoru, hey.” Your voice almost came out as a plea as you shook his arm, your guilt eating at you with every minute that passed. “Wake up.” 

His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that gleamed through the window as he stretched his arms and looked at you. “Y/N?” he softly whispered, a hand tenderly placed on your back as he scooted closer. “What’s wrong?” 

Slight disbelief blanketed your gaze. “You think this isn’t wrong?” 

Satoru let out a sigh of exasperation, pulling his head back, and covering his eyes with a hand as if last night’s events played through his mind scene to scene. He was obviously caught in a mindwreck thinking about the girl he had just cheated on. “It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled, “But it feels like it.”

“So you do regret it,” you laughed at your own words, internally in pain. 

“I didn’t say that.” He finally pulled himself back up, sitting as he pulled you towards him. “Y/N, if we really thought last night was wrong, we would have stopped after the first time.” He shook his head at the irony. “Look, it’s on me, alright? I put you in this situation.” 

“And I allowed it,” you argued, “I allowed it, Satoru. It makes me feel dirty. I feel like, like I’m wrecking someone else’s home. It’s not me.” 

Satoru held his breath, a look of hesitation dawning on his face as he realized that this wasn’t just a dream of his. It was pure and raw reality that he had made a mistake that he could never undo. While thinking it through, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard as he assessed the situation. Then, he looked at you, his expression softening as he spoke, “No, not your fault. It’s just complicated,” he insisted, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes ‘Kemi an apology.” 

Each time you heard her nickname from him was a punch to your gut. And each silent cuss that left his lips was an arrow to your heart. So you put it on yourself to accept his reaction. “It’s okay. You can be honest and say last night was a mistake.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly, reaching out to take your hand. 

But you already stood up from the bed, clutching the duvet around your body like a shield against the encroaching chill. Your throat felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep them at bay. Satoru’s gaze followed you with an expression of helplessness, as if he was struggling to bridge the gap between his rights and wrongs.

As you turned to face him, a knot of frustration and heartache tangled within you. “So, what now?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure. “How are we gonna fix this, Satoru? How?”

Before he could answer, the door to the cabin suddenly burst open, and Akemi stood in the doorway with her eyes wide with shock and fury. The confrontation followed as soon as she caught you in a compromising position with Satoru, and the words she uttered next were ones you least expected from her. 

“You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married.” 

“You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me..” 

“Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

You felt like an outsider in your own heartbreak, the confrontation intensifying as you tried to process the bitter truth in silence. All you could do was stand there and cry. Even Satoru’s attempts to placate Akemi were futile as her anger only seemed to grow. The more her eyes danced back and forth between you and her lover, the more she wanted to destroy everything in her path.

Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. “Akemi, please, just listen—”

Akemi, however, was already turning on her heel and storming back into her cabin while eliciting loud, muffled sobs. Your chest tightened with sorrow and shame. Complete, utter shame of doing this to another woman. How could you even correct a situation like this? How could you pick yourself back up after you just trampled on another woman’s feelings because of your actions?

Satoru, like you, hesitated on his next move, his eyes meeting yours with a look of anguish. “I need to talk to her, Y/N. I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for your response, he already bolted after her, leaving you alone in a quiet, pathetic state. The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin like thunder in a heavy storm.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face everyone, didn’t have the guts to even talk to Shoko and Suguru who now both have to deal with such scandals. You were too ashamed of yourself, as if your femininity had been stripped off its rights after you slept with the man you swore you would never get back with. 

“I didn’t mean it,” you could only silently whisper your laments, pacing around your cabin while swallowing the weakness that tried to escape. “I hate this.” 

The minutes dragged on, and each second stretched into an eternity as you waited for Satoru’s return. For now, you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, wondering what excuse he was telling Akemi, and what actions he would do to try and calm her down. Did he kiss her, perhaps? Did he cup her face and tell her that you were nothing but a mistake? What was taking him so long? Or were they doing things to try and erase the same deeds you two did last night? 

The cacophony of voices and commotion from outside the cabin grew louder, and your curiosity led you to open your door, meeting the eyes of one of the hotel staff who sent you a look full of judgment. 

“Where’s…” you hesitated if she was the right person to ask, “Where’s Satoru? Would you know?” 

“Oh, ma’am. He already left the hotel half an hour ago… with Miss Akemi.” 

Her answer hit you hard like a truck on a highway. And your heart dropped as you realized who became The Fool in these deck of cards. Satoru had not only run off after Akemi, but had also left you behind without a word. 

The room felt colder now, the once-intimate sanctuary you shared with your ex-husband now a prison of your own grief. Even the familiar warmth of the bed seemed like a distant memory as you approached it, your body trembling as you thought of how you were treated like a dirty rag, thrown away after being used over and over again. 

With a soft, choked sob, you collapsed onto the bed, the duvet still a tangled mess from earlier. And your emotions, so tightly restrained, finally broke free. You pulled the blanket around you as if it could shield you from the crushing pain. The betrayal, the sense of being discarded for another—it all converged into a torrent of anguish. All you could do was cling to the duvet as if it were the only anchor in a stormy sea. 

——

Returning home didn’t make the situation any better. 

Although you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be waiting on Satoru to contact you, you still found yourself checking your phone multiple times a day. Each second that passed without hearing from him was another stab to your heart. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t, not when Satoru clearly made his choice of choosing yet another woman over you. 

Of course, you knew what you did was wrong. In everyone’s eyes, sleeping with someone else’s man was unforgivable. There was no excuse, no way to justify your actions. Even if some people might side with you, saying you owed no one loyalty, it didn’t change how you felt about the whole situation. And that was because you remembered all too well the pain of being cheated on, and letting another woman endure the same heartbreak and betrayal was a weight on your conscience that you couldn’t ignore.

Sighing, you turned to the left side of the bed and saw Sachiro sleeping peacefully, clutching his favorite starfish plushie in his tiny arms. The thought of losing your son was unbearable, especially when he was your only source of calm amid the chaos that surrounded you. Caring for him was your solace, and his innocent presence served as a band-aid for your wounded heart. The most heart-wrenching part of this was knowing you couldn’t even repay him for the stability he brought you. Sachiro deserved a complete family to enrich his life, yet you—as his own biological mother—were unable to give him that. 

“Sleep tight, Sachi.” You lightly stroked his white hair before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The past few weeks had been a blur of emotions, work, and parenting—with each day blending into the next like a tornado of dull colors. You still hadn’t heard from Satoru, but the days of waiting and checking your phone for any notification from him did gradually stop. The only thing that didn’t stop replaying in your head like a broken record was the cabin incident, the very night that drew all these overthinking in your mind and in your heart. 

Returning to work did provide some distraction, but it didn’t take away the sting. It also didn’t help that your staff noticed the change in your demeanor, and how distracted you often were during your meetings and warehouse visits. Even Nobara was worried about how absentminded you had become, but you brushed off all their concerns with a forced smile. After all, staying at home would do you worse than being at work. 

Now, you were back in your office, and the soft knock on the door cut you off from your trance. It was Yuki peeking through the small opening on your door, her usual professional demeanor softened by a concerned expression. “Hey, Y/N. Do you have a minute?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a quiet click. 

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “Sure, Yuki. What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” she began, taking a seat opposite your desk, “If you need to extend your vacation, please, by all means, go ahead. It’s off-season, anyway. I’ll take care of everything here while you’re focusing on yourself.”

That wasn’t really a good idea. And you shouldn’t be slacking off work when this very fashion house you establish used to be your passion, not your job. Yet here you were, losing all the inspiration to even run a business. “I don’t know if I have the energy for anything else right now.”

“Well, if you’re too worried about leaving work,” Yuki continued, her tone shifting to a more business-like note, “the progress we’ve made with Hearte is looking really promising. The new collection is getting great feedback, and our upcoming showcase is shaping up well. We’re on track for a strong quarter.”

“All because of you, Yuki.” A spark of gratitude appeared on your face. “Thanks for the update. It’s good to know things are moving in the right direction.”

She then stood up and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need anything, Y/N. But seriously, take some time for yourself. You deserve it.”

On that same evening, you came home to your father’s mansion, and the first thing that greeted you when you entered the foyer was Gen sitting by the living room. And needless to say, her expression was a mix of concern and frustration as if she had been waiting for you to return. You weren’t really in the mood to have some back-and-forths with her, but you also didn’t like how she dropped her phone on the table and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at you like she was a mother who could scold you like a child.

“I’m not even gonna say anything at this point, but did you really do it with him?” Gen’s voice was low, but the disappointment was palpable. You could feel it from a few meters away. 

“What are you talking about?” you bit back, your already-terrible mood swings shifting into an unhealthy direction. 

Gen responded by pointing at her phone, gesturing for you to take a look at whatever’s on it. Reluctantly, you grabbed the device, and as you were scrolling through the screen, you stumbled upon a blind item circulating on social media. The words were vague but pointed, hinting at a scandalous encounter between two ex-spouses, both of whom were well-known figures. Great. Your heart stopped as you realized that the article was very much about you and Gojou. 

The online comments were brutal, not like you weren’t used to anonymous harassment anyway, but these ones were full of speculating and judging without knowing the full story. Everyone also seemed to be siding with “Ms. A” instead of you as though the person behind the article was clearly trying to paint you as the villain. It was written for the purpose of destroying your reputation rather than any regular exposé, and whoever wrote it was definitely someone who disliked you. 

Your shoulders slumped as you scrolled through hate comment after hate comment, a seemingly endless vitriol for someone they didn’t even know, and avoided your sister’s gaze knowing full well that seeing her expression would only make you feel worse. 

“Is it true?” your sister asked like there was even an ounce of chance that it was simply a rumor. Unfortunately, it was anything but. 

Sliding her phone back on the coffee table, you drew in a deep breath. “I can’t undo it, Gen. It happened.” 

“So, you did sleep with him? Am I hearing this right?” Gen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you have any idea what this could do to you? To Sachiro? People are ruthless, and now this blind item is all over the place and they’re targeting you like a punching bag!”

Your mouth felt heavy, as if it was weighed down by an invisible burden, making it difficult to form words or speak. And before you could think of a response, Ian became your temporary savior as he walked in with a calm but serious mien. “I’ve seen the post,” he said, holding up his phone. “It’s clearly defamatory, and we can take legal action. I’ll handle it.”

Even though Ian was a man of remarkable phlegm, you remained abashed, knowing that everyone’s feasting at the juicy rumor that you slept with your ex-husband. Yet, the only thing you could do was to put on a front. To save face. To act like someone you’re not. “Thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate that.”

Anticipating another lecture from Gen about Satoru, you began retreating to your room with your footsteps bouncing desperately on the grand staircase. This conversation was done. You just weren’t there to hear it anymore. However, as you climbed the stairs with a vacant mind, you could still hear your sister calling out to you.

“Y/N!” she called, her voice now tinged with concern. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. We can sort this issue out. Maturely.”

“I’m good.” Sorry, Gen. It was the anxious-avoidant side of you speaking. You didn’t want to discuss such a sensitive situation to anyone, even with your sister, because you weren’t ready to face all the negativity it would put you through. You were already dealing with enough, and going through yet another emotional turmoil might actually put you to your deathbed at this point. 

So, for now, isolating yourself from the world was the best choice. 

And as soon as you entered your room, you saw Sachiro’s nanny tucking him into bed. All your worries and self-destructive thoughts vanished in an instant the moment you looked at your son. It was like the heavens gave you your personal angel, a cute little cherub who brought nothing but light and happiness to your life. He was your sunshine, your shooting star, your bundle of joy. Nothing in this world could erase the pessimist in you than little Sachiro. 

“I got it from here.” You thanked the nanny and asked her to close the door before quickly joining your son in bed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug—more for your own comfort than his.

“Mama?” he asked, his voice unusually raspy, and his chest rising and falling heavily. “I mwiss you, mama!”

You pressed your lips onto his forehead. “I miss you too, my baby. How was daycare today?”

He seemed to struggle to speak too, but Sachiro still did his best to recount his day while he was trying to catch air in between his sentences. “Teacher ask Sachi to go home, mama. Sachi is tired.”

“Baby, are you okay? Are you sick?” Now, your motherly instincts kicked in immediately. You could tell something was wrong, so you reached for a thermometer from the bedside drawer to check his temperature, and listened to his breathing at the same time. “What happened to Sachi? Do you want Mommy to take you to the hospital?”

Sachiro shook his head and gave you a sleepy smile. “No, mama. Sachi is just sweepy.”

When the thermometer beeped, you were relieved to see that his temperature was normal. “Are you having trouble breathing, my sweetheart?” You looked into his droopy eyes and gently placed your hand on his chest. 

Once again, Sachiro shook his head. Maybe you were just overthinking. He often ran around the house or played in the bathtub before bed, which could explain why he seemed out of breath. It wasn’t the first time it happened. 

“Okay, Sachi. Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, baby.”

“Night night, mama.”

For now, you turned off the night lamp, and headed to the bathroom in silent and careful steps. It was quiet enough indeed, but in your head was an awful noise you couldn’t escape. And stepping into the shower only increased the warfare in your mind, as it immediately brought images of Satoru and Akemi back in the cabin, the harsh comments from the article, and the lack of contact from your ex-husband which all overwhelmed you at once. By now, he would have already seen that article. Nanami or Miwa might have already alerted him about it. But the fact that he said nothing, the fact that he let the public scrutinize you, destroy you with such vile, hurtful words behind their screens brought you a kind of pain that you wouldn’t wish upon anyone else. 

Because if it was Akemi in that position, he would have defended her in a heartbeat. 

So in your silence, under the cascading water of the shower, you let the tears flow—its warmth distinguishable compared to the cold droplets falling on you. If only you had successfully drowned yourself that night at the lake. If only Satoru didn’t pull you back in, none of this would have happened. 

That moment was deeply poignant to you, and you saw him in a new light you thought you would never see again because of the darkness of your past. Yet, with the events that followed your special moment, memories eventually turned into spite. Your sweet exchange twisted into something bitter. Looking back at that time when he kissed you at the lake now made you feel nauseous and hollow inside, with bile forming on your throat and threatening to be retched. 

The most gut-wrenching part about this was the fact that there wasn’t anyone left who could rescue you from this abyss of heartache anymore. 

——

There had been a sense of detachment in your emotions in the following days that passed, almost as though they belonged to a stranger inhabiting your body. Toji, the only person who comforted you at times like these, was no longer by your side to fulfill the warmth you once desperately sought, and now you were alone to face this cruel, mind-numbing battle all by yourself. It was you against the world. You against the entire populace inhabiting this living hell. And with that many enemies against one, how could you win? 

It was quite funny, actually, that your humor took a surprising turn when you thought of how Sera must have felt when it was revealed to the public that she was Satoru’s mistress. The irony didn’t even stop at your thoughts alone, it manifested itself outside Hearte’s headquarters, wearing a pink puffer jacket and a white prairie skirt. 

“Sera?” you blurted out her name in wonder, nonplussed as you got out of the car to approach her.

“Hey, Y/N.” She offered a casual smile while carrying an air of sophistication around her. That wasn’t the only thing that changed about Sera. Her hair was also shorter than the last you saw her, her face now sporting a more natural makeup, and her outfit a more modest yet classy choice. It was no longer the Sera who tried hard to fit in amongst the upper echelon of society, but a Sera who seemed to be satisfied at her current standing in life. 

What an awkward encounter. Was her presence your hypocritical reminder for sleeping with Satoru behind Akemi’s back? 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

And she answered with, “I read about what happened. You know, the thing on the internet.” She took a moment to pause, probably trying to choose the right words to say to her previous adversary. Because in a way, you two weren’t exactly friends. And you were no longer rivals either. Satoru was the only common denominator here, and Sera proved her exact sentiments about him by saying, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand your side. It’s a tough situation.”

You looked at her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “You were once on my spot,” you pointed out and gauged whether or not she would take the bait. For all you know, she could be putting on an act. “I’m assuming you’re here to rub it in my face how much of a hypocrite I am.” 

“No, that’s not it.” Sera was vehemently denying any malice on her intentions, and was instead trying to show you the sympathy of a woman who was once caught in the same predicament. “Look, I know it’s weird that I’m here out of all people. But the truth is, I just had to let you know that someone’s on your side. I’ve met the girl, okay? That… whoever she is. I don’t remember her name, and I hate having to pit two women against each other, but I’m telling you it’s about time you cut Satoru off your life. Completely. She doesn’t look like someone who’d easily let go. You’re just gonna suffer, Y/N.” 

Perhaps three years was too far back in your life and that tables could turn in a direction that you didn’t expect, as you could recall fragments of memories from when your only dilemma was dealing with Satoru and Sera in your marriage. She used to be besotted with your ex-husband back then. But now, it wasn’t until you heard the way she spoke about him that you realized she must be harboring a grudge deeper than you had imagined. After all, he did ruin her life in ways you couldn’t imagine. And her advice, though unsolicited, made sense. Because you could understand where she was going with it. You could see the true intentions clearly conveyed by her face.

The only problem here was that you didn’t have it in your heart to agree with her. You were too much of an empathic person to be taking sides, even if the supposed villain in this painting was the ex-husband who, time and time again, hurt you. Your heart stubbornly cared for Satoru deep down, and your wifely instinct of defending him no matter how poorly he acted had always been there. No one could hate Satoru more than you did, that was true, but you also weren’t very accepting of hearing others describe him as this ruthless, cheating bastard. 

That was the reason why talking to Gen had eventually exhausted you. Because no one knew the real Satoru Gojou behind his facade of an irresponsible and reckless husband. 

“Now that you’re here…” The idea to redirect the conversation to another topic struck you, unwilling to engage in a conversation that pushed Satoru in a bad light. “Would you be interested in being a model for our upcoming campaign? We’re launching a new collection, and I think you’d be perfect.”

Sera’s eyes were an amalgam of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I mean… I’d love to, but why so sudden?” 

“You have the face for it.” You shrugged, but still sent a smile her way. “Are you working right now? If not, this could open doors for you to be discovered by modeling agencies. I’m closely tied with them since I work in the fashion industry, so I can do a few calls if you want.” 

“Hold on, I’m—” Sera touched her head, laughing as if she were dreaming this conversation. “Y/N, you’re doing too much here. I mean, I’d obviously love that, but wouldn’t it be awkward? People know me as your ex-husband’s mistress, and if they recognize me in Hearte ads, I’m sure as hell those fuck ass netizens won’t stop talking about it.”

She had a point, a very good point, but then again, your suggestion was only brought up because you had to change the topic. “Well, it’s just an offer to consider in the future.” 

“And I appreciate you always extending a hand to help me even if I did you wrong in the past,” she said, feelings of shame lacing her voice. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for my brother, that’s why I’m here. I’m not your enemy anymore, Y/N.”

Just then, the roaring engine of a classic red Ferrari pulled up to the curb, interrupting the unexpected conversation you were having with your ex-husband’s former mistress. The window rolled down to reveal a pink-haired man whom you recognized as Ryomen Sukuna, an up and coming tech mogul, that Toji had mentioned about many times before. His eyes were only on one woman alone, and it wasn’t you. “Ready to go, babe?”

Honestly, good for Sera. No wonder her aura had become different. They seemed to be in a stable committed relationship, something that you could only ever dream about. If karma was truly real, this was the perfect example for it. 

In the back seat, you spotted a younger boy who looked exactly like Sukuna and, surprisingly, Megumi, the son of your ex-fiancé. Really? How many more people were you going to ‘coincidentally’ run into today? 

“Hello, miss!” the other boy called out cheerfully, while Megumi offered a polite nod. You replied with a wave, feeling a small sense of normalcy in their innocent presence.

“I gotta get going, Y/N,” excused Sera, gesturing a civil goodbye. 

But as she moved to get into the car, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A single glance at the screen made your heart drop. It was a call from the hospital.

“Hello?” you answered almost immediately, pressing the phone on your ears with a tight push.

“Ms. Y/N, this is the hospital. Your son, Sachiro Gojou, is in the ICU. We need you to come as soon as possible.”

Your stomach contracted into a tight ball as you stood rigid with terror. Then and there, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Wh-What do you mean he’s in the hospital?!” you managed to shout, swept by horripilation from the sudden news. “What happened to my son?! What’s—!” 

Sera’s concerned gaze met yours as you desperately yelled into the phone, hyperventilating. Your trembling hand was threatening to drop the phone. “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“My son… I… he…,” you stammered, your voice shaky with fear and urgency. Your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, eyes wide with astonishment, and surprise rendering you immobile. The thought of Sachiro in a critical state was about to make you faint, with the last bits of images you saw that afternoon were of Sera and her boyfriend rushing to catch you from completely falling to the ground. 

——

Megumi didn’t know how to deliver the bad news. 

He came home after Yuuji’s brother rushed you to the hospital, shocked by everything that happened in a span of a single day. His mind was aching from all the thinking he was doing; praying that little Sachiro will be fine, hoping that you would stay strong throughout, and lastly, wondering how he would break it to his dad that something terrible had happened. 

His father wasn’t exactly the greatest man to tread this Earth, especially not after the drunken words he had ‘mistakenly’ uttered to you that night in Miami that resulted in your separation. Yes, Megumi knew every word and detail. His father told him everything just as a sober man would. Did you really think that the Toji Zen’in you knew would sputter that utter nonsense to you? That you had an empty soul. That he couldn’t be with someone like you. That you would forever be a placeholder to Megumi’s mother. Bullshit. None of those were true. His father told him that the reason he had to say those words, as piercing and trenchant as they may be, was because it was the only way he could free you from being caged in a relationship your heart didn’t genuinely want. 

It was Toji’s last resort to hurt you with his words, hoping that you would wake up from your false fantasy and finally have a reason to leave a relationship with a man that wasn’t Satoru Gojou. If Megumi’s father wasn’t at the top of the list of Forbes’ richest men in Japan, he would have felt a great deal of inferiority complex over a younger man like Gojou. Not because of his looks and his riches, but because he had you. No matter what Satoru did, no matter how many times he hurt you, he was and would always be that man you wanted to be with. 

Sighing, Megumi’s first task upon coming home was to check on his father’s room, only to find the dark room void of its owner. When he made his way down the grand staircase, he met an ill-spirited Naoya who was ranting to Mai about Sera flaunting Sukuna in front of his face. Megumi’s sigh was then followed by another. The drama in this house was relentless. He felt like he was exhaling endlessly, like a malfunctioning appliance. 

“Where’s dad?” asked Megumi, directing her question to a more rational Maki. 

The tall, green-haired girl gave him a knowing shrug. “You already know,” she said, “Drowning himself in alcohol down at the bar.” 

As always. 

Megumi jogged around the estate to eventually find his father at one of the wet bars near his home office. He was there, seated on a stool, his head drooping low with a glass of premium scotch in hand. How many glasses he’d had, Megumi could only hope the numbers weren't that high. But upon approaching his father, his presence was barely acknowledged as he sat on the stool next to him, suggesting that the grown man might be more inebriated than his son had expected.

“Dad,” spoke the Zen’in heir, “Dad, you good?” 

Toji lifted his head up, three sheets to the wind, as a smile crept up on his scarred lips. “Son.” 

“Let me take that.” Megumi grabbed a hold of the glass of scotch, sliding the strong liquor away from his father. “There’s something I ought to tell you.” 

Toji stayed nonchalant, sitting upright and tapping his fingers on the counter. “What’s it about this time?” he asked. “I’ve told you, I can’t stop the elders from arranging your marriage unless you’re honest with me about someone you like. I know you have someone in mind, but you’re not saying who. Are you just shy?”

Megumi gave his father a look of exasperation. He’s rambling, he thought, frustrated with his father’s inebriated chattering. “It’s not about that. It’s about Y/N-san.”

The mention of your name was the only thing that made Toji's demeanor shift to one of genuine concern. “What happened?”

“Sachi’s in a critical condition,” the younger Zen’in went straight to the point, “Y/N-san went manic over it and fainted before we could get her to the hospital.”

Toji was quick to grab his coat and car keys, as if all the alcohol in his system had immediately evaporated. But before he could leave, Megumi caught his father’s arm and pulled him back. 

“What?” said Toji, concern and urgency blanketing his gaze. “I need to be with her.” 

“Do you really need to?” Megumi countered. “Dad, I know it’s not right for me to stop you in this crucial situation, but are you gonna do this every time she’s in trouble? Do you plan to do this forever? Do you plan to keep drowning yourself in alcohol thinking about her? We care for her like family, that’s true, but you and her aren’t a thing anymore. Your responsibilities in taking care of her should stop, too. You, yourself, said it’d be best if she stopped being reliant on you. Now, do yourself a favor and stop trying to be this pathetic superhero.” 

The concern etching on Tojis’s face softened into a sense of realization, a sense of candidness that only someone as straightforward as his own son could evoke. Megumi had to, not because he didn’t care for you anymore, but because he had to ensure he wouldn’t lose his father over a relationship that had already ended. Toji was the only real family Megumi had left. 

“Stay, dad,” he pleaded, “Please.”

Toji took a deep breath and released it in the same second. “Okay,” he softly said, ruffling his son’s hair. “I won’t leave.” 

——

Why is it that you keep attracting things, places, and people that you disliked the most? 

You hated hospitals, and you had spoken about it enough to make it clear how much you dreaded going to a place where your worst memories had taken root. Yet, the sterile environment seemed to beckon you, dragging you back with a new nightmare each time. It was beyond your worst fears that you would find yourself racing through the halls mere minutes after regaining consciousness, desperately trying to reach where your son was.

Please be okay. Please be okay. 

Frantically, you scanned the corridors, searching for the ICU and hoping that what you had just heard was nothing more than a cruel illusion, that this was all just a nightmare. You weren’t a deeply devout person, but you did send prayers to every saint you could think of, hoping that Sachiro’s current state wasn’t in the median between life and death. 

Because if you lost your son, then there was no point in living anymore. This life wouldn’t be worth enduring. 

“Y/N!”

You weren’t the first one to arrive outside the pediatric ICU, with Gen and your father already being there moments before you came. You were struggling to breathe by the time you reached them, feeling your heart race with a thunderous beat. “Gen… Dad, what h-happened to him?” You couldn’t stop the weakness in your voice. “Tell me he’s fine, please. Please. My baby. If anything h-happens to him, I’m g-gonna die, Gen! I c-can’t h-have that!”

Gen quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace, trying to offer any form of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dad and I are just as shocked.” She held you closer, her voice trembling as she, too, was just as anxious as you. “Sachi refused to eat and complained about having a hard time breathing. He was so pale and his lips were blue. We knew we had to rush him to the hospital immediately.”

“Oh my God.” Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that were escaping. The news of Sachiro developing cyanosis shattered your heart, and the crushing reality that you weren’t there to take care of him tore you apart. “My baby, no. No, no. H-He—”

“Y/N!” 

Out of breath and also visibly shaken was the father of your son, Satoru, who came running to your side the moment his eyes landed on you. Behind him was his mother, clutching a rosary in her hand as both of them were seemingly shell-shocked in the same magnitude as you and your family were. Everyone cared for Sachiro’s well-being, everyone prayed for his safety, and the thought of losing an angel like your son was a soul-crushing thought that sent you slipping into a chasm of suffering.  

“Wh-What happened to Sachi?” Satoru asked in desperation, his question raised to everyone in the vicinity—you, your family, the nurses. But no one could give him a decent answer. “Please, tell me my son’s alright. Tell me.” 

You watched him walk in circles, raking his fingers through his hair as if he was seeking anything to hold onto. And you, feeling that magnet that pulled you closer to him, broke away from Gen’s embrace to look at your son’s father. “Satoru…” 

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he met your gaze, “Our son.” He stopped, ready to wrap you in a hug—a moment of solace you both desperately needed in this critical time. But just as he pulled you close in a fragile attempt to find comfort together, the door to the ICU swung open, abruptly ending the brief respite.

All of you immediately rushed over to the doctor, the sterile white walls and the distant hum of hospital machinery did nothing to calm the turmoil inside you. 

“Doctor, how’s he?” 

“How’s my grandson, doc?”

“Doc, my son, is he okay?” 

“Is he stable, doc?” 

“Doctor, how’s my son, please?” you asked, your body growing tense to the point of shaking.

The doctor took a deep breath, his expression serious amidst the fusillade of questions thrown at him. “We’re currently running a series of tests on the patient. We suspect Sachiro may have congenital heart disease, specifically a ventricular septal defect with associated pulmonary hypertension.”

No, it can’t be. It’s not possible! The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You struggled to process the information, your vision blurring with tears and your heart drumming a rapid staccato inside. You didn’t need to look at everyone to know that they all, for a moment, looked at you. “Heart disease? But… how? I didn’t think—”

“Can you explain more, doc? Please.” Gojou was desperate, his bright blue eyes now dull and severely clouded with a brewing storm. It was as if he was keeping himself from crying.

The doctor continued gently, “VSD is a condition where there’s a hole in the heart’s ventricular septum. It can lead to pulmonary hypertension, which means the blood pressure in the lungs is elevated. It’s a serious condition, but we’re doing everything we can to assess the extent and provide the best treatment.”

“N-No, oh God. My baby.” You felt your knees go weak, and you sank down against the wall, with more tears cascading down your cheeks like waterfall. The weight of the diagnosis was crushing, but the hardest part was realizing that this was something you had unknowingly passed on to Sachiro. The heart disease was inherited from you and had now manifested in your beloved son.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault! 

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have more information. Please, try to stay calm, Y/N. It’s not best for your heart to panic right now. Sachiro is in good hands.”

You were unable to speak through the sobs that wracked your body. The hospital corridor felt endless, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that consumed you. You could feel all eyes on you, judging, harboring hatred, carrying deep-rooted resentment. You were torn apart by the knowledge that the very thing you had feared most was now a reality for your son.

“It’s… It’s my fault,” you sobbed, covering your face with your quivering hands, “This is all my fault. I gave it to Sachiro, I… I’m a terrible mother!” 

Gen knelt beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch. “Y/N, stop it. This is not your fault. You didn’t choose this for Sachiro.”

Your father, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, joined in. “Your sister’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something beyond your control. We’re all here for you. We’ll figure this out.”

But amidst your familial exchange, Satoru stood nearby, frozen and listless. His silence only added to the overwhelming distress. Was he also blaming you for what Sachiro was going through right now? Was he also angry at you for putting his son into this critical situation? 

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the commotion—voice that was equally harsh and spiteful. It was Satoru’s mother, boring her fiery eyes into your skull as she opened her mouth. “That’s right! You’re self-aware, aren’t you?” she spat and stood rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “This is all your fault. You’re such an irresponsible mother! You can’t even take care of my grandson properly, and now you’ve passed your disease onto him!”

You looked up in shock, seeing Satoru’s mother standing there with a disdainful expression. The sting of her words felt like a knife twisting in your heart, because they were true. They were painful, yes, but they were true. And all you could do was lower yourself until you were sitting on your haunches, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

“Excuse me?!” Gen stood up, her eyes blazing with anger that came from the deepest pits of hell. “You’re unbelievable, Auntie. How dare you speak to my sister like that! You have no right to blame her for this. I hope to God it was you in the ICU right now instead of Sachiro!”

“You…!” 

Satoru’s mother raised a hand to slap Gen, but your father stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and indignation. “This is despicable. How can you stand here and say such things to someone who’s already suffering? Weren’t you friends with my wife once?”

Satoru, who had been standing still, suddenly moved with a menacing calm. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was scarier was him approaching his mother with a threatening stance. “Are you really this pathetic, mother?” Satoru questioned with a cold, cutting tone. “Do you get off on making Y/N suffer? Do you think you’ve gotten away with slapping her behind my back? You don’t get to blame Y/N for anything. Any fucking thing!”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, but she tried to defend herself at the ruthless stance her son was carrying. All of you were stunned at the realization of how Satoru resembled his cruel father at that moment. “B-But Satoru, my son—”

“Shut up!” Satoru cut her off, his voice harsh and unforgiving, before he threw his cold knuckles against the hard surface of the concrete wall. “I don’t want to see your face ever again! Don’t consider yourself my mother any longer, you witch. You’ve lost that privilege.”

This took a wild turn, and hearing the brutality of Satoru’s words was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. His mother’s face turned pale, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she struggled to respond.

“Get out of here,” Satoru commanded, his voice uncaring towards her. “Leave, and don’t ever come back. You’re nobody to me now.”

With that, Satoru’s mother turned and fled, stumbling down the corridor as if she was the victim in this situation. However, the tension in the air began to dissipate as soon as she left, leaving you, Satoru, Gen, and your father in a heavy silence. Only your sniffles could be heard. 

Even Gen, who was often hostile around your ex-husband, had remained quiet and composed after she watched him take such drastic measures to keep his mother away.

Everyone was silent. Pure, unbothered silence until Satoru’s phone began to buzz loudly, cutting through the stillness of the hallway. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he fished his phone out of his pocket where you caught a glimpse of the caller ID. 

Akemi. 

——

The ICU only allowed short visits and one person at a time, so there was no need for everyone to stay the night. You were the parent, you were the one responsible for your son’s situation, so you insisted it was best for your dad and Gen to go home and get some rest. You didn’t mind watching over your son for the whole night, because coming home without him was the last thing you would do right now.

My precious angel.

Sachiro lay in the hospital bed, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The doctors had managed to stabilize him for now, and the sight of his heart monitor showing a stable rhythm was a small comfort amidst the chaos.

Still, you sat by his bedside, mindful of your timed visit as your hands gently held his tiny ones, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. You glanced down at the medical report on your other hand, trying to make sense of the complex terms and figures.

The words blurred together as your tears fell silently onto the paper. “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t deserve this. He’s just a baby. “Mommy’s very sorry.”

You tried to stay strong, putting on a brave face for your son, but inside, you were falling apart. It was impossible not to blame yourself over this, wishing you could do more than just be present around him. This was the comeuppance of your own actions after you focused on your own emotions for the past few weeks to the point of neglecting your son’s wellbeing. If you had been more present in his life, if you had been more observant, you would have easily noticed the signs. Now, you allowed Satoru to find a flaw in your duty as a mother, and he could cite this very event as evidence to get full custody of him. That is, if he were to ever consider taking your son away from you. 

But in the first place, he should be the last person to do that, because where exactly was he now? 

Your thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier scene, where he excused to answer Akemi’s call, and later that night told you he had to leave and “check something” urgently. He promised he’d be back before midnight, but where was he? 

Resentment began to fester within you.

You had been very perceptive of Akemi’s feelings, apologetic in the way you supposedly betrayed her, but the fact that she was still scrambling for Satoru’s attention in the midst of your son’s hospitalization was something you could never forgive her for. 

And as for Sachiro’s father, how could he prioritize another woman when his own son was in such a critical state? The confusion of his actions was overwhelming. It felt like a cruel deja vu that, at a time when you needed him the most, he was choosing to be elsewhere. You could accept it if it was a choice between you and another woman, but between his son and her? His behavior was unacceptable, disgusting even, and it only served to deepen your grudge against him.

You clenched your fists, trying to push away the surge of anger that threatened to consume you after seeing that the disparity in his actions felt like both a betrayal and a slap to the face. Your poor son. You stared at Sachiro’s peaceful face and stroked his cheek. How could Satoru be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood?

The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the heart monitor and your quiet sobs. The situation was almost too much to bear, and your resentment towards Gojou grew heavier by the second. Each minute felt like a lifetime, and the emptiness left by his absence was a constant reminder that yet again he chose another woman over his own family.

It’s okay. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. I won’t leave you, Sachi. For Sachiro’s sake, you needed to find the strength to carry on, to be the mother he needed in this moment of crisis and never again failing to be there for your only child. 

At exactly 10:30 pm, the nurse came in and told you visiting hours were over. You complied. 

At 11:00 pm, Ian paid you a quick visit and talked to the nurses, perhaps giving them reminders to look after you. 

At 12:00 am, you were alone again. Seated at one of the benches outside the ICU—sleepless, starving, and nauseous. 

At 2:00 am, you remained in your seat despite the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with your own discomfort. The flickering fluorescent lights above did little to help you get some proper sleep. The cold air-conditioning alao made you shiver slightly, hugging your own body to try and give yourself some warmth. 

At 4:00 am, you awakened from the noise of the movements beside you. Realizing you had fallen asleep, you looked up and saw Satoru taking a seat to your left. His coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, but you could see the bags under his eyes suggesting the sleepless nights he’d had for the past few days. “You can use my coat.”

You took the coat, but as you caught a whiff of it, a familiar scent of Akemi’s perfume lingered. Rose Prick by Tom Ford. It was a scent you’d come to recognize after your years of being her best friend, and it made your stomach turn slightly. Without any hesitation, you handed the coat back to him. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes was the last thing you would do. 

And you knew Satoru was sighing, but didn’t press the issue. “The nurse mentioned you haven’t eaten today.” He pulled out a small bag of assorted fruits, placing it gently on the seat between you. You eyed the offerings, feeling a pang of hunger but also a strange aversion. “I bought some fruit. Is there anything you like?”

You took a deep breath and broke the silence with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re really good at this, huh?”

“At what?” was his immediate question, puzzled.

“Hitting two birds with one stone.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop trying to take care of me,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended. “ I don’t need it.”

“But—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You can’t even be here for Sachi. You can’t even choose your son. He’s in a life and death situation and we’re still only receiving scraps of your attention.” It was the deep-seated grudge spilling out of you. “You’re so good at abandoning people, huh? Even though that’s what you hate the most. You’re so good at disappearing without even a text or call to check on me and our son. After that night at the cabin, you just…” you paused, realizing that you were opening too much of your heart to a man who didn’t deserve it. “Forget it. Just go home to Akemi. Live a happy life, build a family with her. Forget us. I don’t care. I’ll take care of Sachiro myself. I’ve done it for three years!”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…” Satoru fumbled for words, his somber blue eyes bearing the history of your shared heartbreak. It was as though the painful memories of your past were flooding his thoughts, seeking justification as to why he couldn’t pick you again this time. “I had to be there for her. She’s…”

You turned away before he could see your expression, because your heart was splintering at the thought of Satoru Gojou shattering it once more. As he always did. There seemed to be no end to this relentless heartbreak, as if any hope of a happy ever after with the man you loved would only return a pain that was a hundred times worse. Perhaps, this was destiny’s way of telling you that you and him weren’t meant to be. That any wishful thinking of being with Satoru again was only something that you could expect in another universe.

So, in your defense, you had to pull on a facade. A mask that you had to wear in the face of being the target of never-ending despair. “Satoru, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said firmly, concealing the raw ache in your voice with a smile. “And I don’t expect you to choose me every time. It’s okay. It’s happened before.”

“Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?” he asked, his voice breaking. Though you couldn’t see his face, the tremor in his voice revealed his struggle to hold back tears. 

You couldn’t understand why he would be hurting with his decision. When faced with two crossroads, he always seemed to pick the path that led away from you. So instead of trying to comprehend his pain, you decided it was time to honor your own. For your sake. For Sachiro’s. 

“Let’s just forget about that night,” you declared, wiping your eyes as you got up from your seat and prepared to walk away. “From this day forward, let’s pretend it never happened.”

——

Akemi’s apartment was dark when Satoru stepped inside. 

And to be honest, the darkness was a relief. At least, she wouldn’t be able to see the lassitude etched on his face, not just from juggling his time between his son and her, but from the constant ache of hurting the person he loved.

Miscommunication is a couple’s greatest enemy, and the persistent disconnect between you two, coupled with the reluctance to clear things up, had worn Satoru down. He wanted to end this—the feeling of helplessness and the torment of seeing the woman he cared for caught in a labyrinth of despair.

The hospital visits to Sachiro alone had been a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities, and this brief visit to Akemi felt like an unwelcome detour, but one he couldn’t avoid. Satoru knew his heart wanted to stay in the hospital with you, to wait for any updates on his son, to hold your hand and care for you, yet here he was, dragging his feet across the carpeted floors to approach Akemi. 

“Hey.” She was sitting on the couch, looking frail but alert as if she had been desperately waiting on his arrival. She had recently started treatment for her stage 3 endometrial cancer, and Satoru could see the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally. He would be cruel to leave her hanging like this, to neglect her at her worst when she had been there by his side at his. Satoru had an unspoken accountability on her, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to just abandon her after she poured all her heart and soul into helping Gojou get back onto his own feet.  

“Hey, ‘Kemi,” he said, his tone soft but distant. “Did you take your meds today?”

Akemi looked up at him, her eyes tired and heavy. “I did. I took them just like the doctor said. How’s Sachiro?”

Gojou’s expression tightened. “He’s holding steady at the moment.”

A heavy silence settled between them before Akemi broke the tension. “I’m glad he’s stable,” she said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once, his mind already drifting back to the hospital. “Yeah. Listen, I need to head back soon. Nanami and Miwa will be alternating in looking after you from now on. They’ll make sure you’re okay while I’m dealing with Sachiro. I have to focus on my son.”

Akemi’s frail hand reached out to gently grip his arm, the other held her lower abdomen in pain. “Satoru, please don’t go just yet. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Now’s not the time to feel guilty. It was either her or Sachiro. Her or his son. Gojou decided to pull his arm away gently, his gaze distant. “Sachiro needs me, Akemi. You know that.”

Akemi’s face fell, but she knew it would be ridiculous to argue over that. “No, I understand. I get that. I want you to focus on Sachi, too. I just wish—” Before she could finish, her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “Satoru, do you regret that I took you back even if you cheated on me?”

The question caught him off guard, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrowed as he processed her words. He had been so focused on his responsibilities and the immediate crisis that he hadn’t given much thought to their ‘relationship’. All he knew was when he showed up at her doorstep back at the cabin, he was only going to try and end things with her. He was only going to clarify the longstanding feelings you and him poured out to each other that night, which was why he ended up sleeping with his ex-wife. But because Akemi suffered at the time, because her pelvic pain worsened to the point of an emergency, he had to hold back and just take care of her in the weeks that passed. He was caged in this situation like a prisoner who was found guilty for the crimes he had committed.

Just be honest, Satoru. Disregard everything else and just be honest. Satoru believed it was about time he stood his ground no matter the consequences. “You can’t take me back if we’re not together, ‘Kemi,” he breathed out those words, reticent on hurting her with the truth. If she would lash out on him, throw a vase on his head, slam a book on his face—he wouldn’t mind. He was ready to accept all the violence he deserved from being an asshole. “You knew from the start that this, us, was only temporary. It was never supposed to be serious.” 

Her expressions turned doleful. “Then, in that case, did you at least…” Tears welled up in her eyes as she she paused, “Did you at least love me?”

“I just… I never saw it that way, Akemi.” Satoru’s honesty would destroy her, but he didn’t want to keep on sending out false hopes. He had to be firm, and while he was grateful for everything she did for him, that doesn’t mean he owed her his life and loyalty. In the first place, he warned her that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. And God, he was far from ready to even settle down, yet Akemi constantly hinted at wanting to tie the knot with him. Again and again did she mention the thought of a wedding and a child and her own family. 

Satoru wanted all those things too, but with another person in mind. He was only set on having those things with one woman.

Akemi’s face paled upon hearing his answer and the fact that he didn’t even bother to explain himself. “I see. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Gojou looked at her with a mix of regret and sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you like this, I really do.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It definitely wasn’t fine, but Satoru had to take her word for it as he got out from the couch and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “I have to go. Nanami will be here soon. Please make sure to follow the treatment plan and take care of yourself.”

Akemi nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Alright. I’ll see him when he gets here.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he felt a pang of guilt twisting deep in his gut but pushed it aside. He was a father first before anything else. Sachiro would always be his first and foremost priority amongst everything else. 

——

After leaving Akemi’s place, Satoru was driving his car into the evening air beyond the speed limit. And his mind was racing together with him as he thought of you, your son, and the myriad of emotions he was struggling to manage. He couldn’t wait to be home, not literally at his own place, but anywhere with you and his son was his definition of home. 

It would be diabolical for him to run into your arms and yell, ‘I’m free! We can be together again!’ No, that would be cruel and disgusting. He respected Akemi just as he respected you. It was himself that he couldn’t respect, because he was the one responsible for the mess that he created. And adding Sachiro’s critical condition on top of the already festering wounds in your relationship? It truly was the manifestation of karma in his actions. 

His footsteps bounced through the hospital corridors the moment he arrived, each impatient step was ready to see your face and tell you he would never leave you and Sachiro now. But as he neared the pediatric ICU, his eyes darted around, the sight of his ex-wife was nowhere to be found. And instinctively, his heart pounded in his chest, and a drum of panic seemed to warn him of a storm that was about to come. Something was off, and it scared him. 

“Nurse,” he called out, his voice edged with urgency as he approached their station. “Where’s my wife? The boy’s mother?”

The nurse looked up, recognizing the infamous CEO’s face. “Uh, Mr. Gojou, she was heading to the rooftop, I think.”

“What?!” he unintentionally yelled at her face, “Why didn’t you guys keep an eye on her?” 

“Sir, calm down. She’s probably going to get some fresh air.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. You were definitely not there for that. 

Without another word, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time instead of waiting at an elevator together with a group of people. He had to get to you as soon and as fast as he could without another second to waste. Although the climb felt endless, his mind racing with fear and dread was the push he needed to finally reach you. 

And upon bursting through the door to the rooftop, he was met with the soft whisper of the evening wind and the heart-stopping sight of you standing perilously close to the edge.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t do this. Please, step back.”

You stood motionless, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of sorrow. “The world hates me, Satoru,” you whispered, the mellow tone of your voice carried away by the wind. “I’m a burden to everyone, even my own child. I-I just… I want to end it all.”

“No!” Satoru’s heart shattered at your words while he moved closer, his hands outstretched and careful not to startle or provoke you. He was dying to have you in his arms and keep you safe. “Y/N, please. Come back. What about Sachi? What about me? We need you. Sachiro needs you. I need you.”

What exactly made you go here? How did thoughts of ending yourself suddenly come into fruition? Was there something you discovered that brought you to this ultimatum? Gojou was desperate, utterly desperate, to hear what was running through your mind so that he could at least ease the burden that you were carrying all by yourself. He was once in the position where he wanted to commit too, and he knew the temptation that came with permanently escaping the cruelty of the world in just a single action. 

“Y/N, please. Please, I’m begging. Come to me,” he rattled on in a suffocating whisper, the pleading in his voice was heavy, “Please. I love you. Only you.”  

It was when you turned around that Gojou’s world collapsed, and the words you said after had shattered his entire universe. 

They were still. 

You. 

And the wind. 

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice cracking as you looked at the faint tears that fell from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.” 

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 014 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. explicit smut, 18+. fingering. angst. unedited. toxic characters & toxic relationships. fluff. romance.

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 11k

series masterlist 

[ FOURTEEN ] you say, “I don’t understand,” and I say, “I know you don’t.” we thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.

The night couldn’t come close to what Rintaro had dreamt of.

Laughter rang throughout the house, the gentle murmur of the ocean harmonizing with the convivial conversations, a moment that felt both timeless and precious. The beach house, aglow with soft, ambient lighting, mimicked the warm murmurs of his heart.

Rintaro sat between his brothers on the living room, a sense of profound contentment washing over him. His gaze swept across the scene before him: his family, radiant and effervescent, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames of a nearby bonfire. His brothers’ cheeks reddened by the liquor, their faces pulled back in laughter. They shoved one another as they fervently pressed on the game’s buttons, teasing and shoving one another.

He marveled at the simple pleasures – the shared stories, the clink of glasses, the playful banter that filled the air with a blatant sense of belonging.

The night was redolent with the scent of the sea, mingling with the fragrant notes of jasmine and citrus from the garden – he’d ensured to fill the surroundings with anything but vanilla in hopes of pleasing you. Leaning back on the couch, Rintaro watched as the waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythmic cadence a soothing counterpoint to the lively atmosphere. The stars, scattered like diamonds, adorned the velvet sky – reminding him of you. How your eyes shone and glimmered like stars, or the way your face lit up each time he came close.

You no longer hated him. Or if you did, you hated him less.

You were finally looking at him like how you always used to.

In that moment, Rintaro felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude Everything felt right in his world. The beach house – a sanctuary where memories were made and love was rekindled. The laughter of his brothers, the shared glances and secret smiles. He felt connected to everything around him.

“What was that all about?”

Rintaro faced his brothers. The others who stayed around were huddled around the couch playing Mario Kart, their attention honed in on a deeply absorbed Tooru, determined to win.

“Yeah, what was that?” teased Atsumu, taking another swig of his drink. “Since when have you and Maiko become close?”

Tooru rolled his eyes. “We were always close.”

“Was close, until you got married,” corrected Osamu before sharing a knowing look with his twin. A split second later, and the twins erupted into laughter, the sound mocking and echoing. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for her.”

“I’m not. Don’t be stupid,” Tooru’s clicking on the controls got louder. “We just… fighting gets old sometimes, alright? You grow up eventually.”

“I’m pretty certain not fighting is not the same as ‘oh, I scored a point, let me run to my wife and hug her!’”

Rintaro and his brothers sniggered. It was the sight, indeed – one that both confused and amused all of them. The married pair had always been like cat and mouse, with Maiko being the cat and Tooru the mouse who ran away at the mere sight of her. But something had changed, something had shifted between the two. No one knew where it began, or how it happened. It was just there. A change so sudden Rintaro might’ve gotten whiplash, and wondered if Tooru had ever been interested in you in the first place. Or maybe he’d been so blinded by jealousy he assumed everyone was going to steal you away from him.

The thought of it made the liquor taste bitter on his tongue.

“The rest of you should get married and see for yourselves,” mumbled Tooru, “Might make you man up, too.”

His brother received a chorus of noncommittal grunts. None of them were in no rush to get married, more so because the Queen might arrange one for them. There’d been whispers here and there already how the twins might be next, and neither seemed ecstatic by the idea. Osamu was more on the neutral side, whilst Atsumu passionately went against it.

“Speaking of marriage, you and the Princess have been… oddly fond of each other.”

Rintaro’s eyes flickered to Osamu, brow raising at the hidden implications of his otherwise innocent tone. Although he knew his brother well – nothing was ever innocent with Osamu. He was merely a more discreet version of his reckless brother.

“We were always fond of each other.”

“I meant to say that she does not look like you she hates you now.”

“That’s because she does not,” affirmed Rintaro, feeling pride swell in his chest. He felt confident enough to believe in his words. He knew he’d been a good husband – he’d been attentive to all your needs, let you pull on the reigns and ordered him around like he wasn’t the Crown Prince. Curiously enough, Rintaro did not mind. He rather enjoyed that you were speaking with him again, and you’d tolerated him enough to even smile around his presence. That, and you’d finally let him hold you each time you slept. To say he was in heaven would be an understatement.

“We are finally heading in the right direction.”

“Right,” Atsumu scratched his nose, clearly not believing it. “If that’s what you say, sure. Congratulations on your everlasting marriage, brother.”

Rintaro bit back his tongue. Refusing to let his brothers ruin his night, he quickly stood up and bid them farewell. Find my wife was his only thought in that moment. He saw you rushing upstairs a while ago, but did not follow since you didn’t hear him calling out for you. Not that he thought much about it – he knew hosting and attending to everybody must’ve been quite stressful for you. You’ve been running around in circles.

Now that the night was ending, Rintaro’s only desire was to tend to you, and hold you close.

Taking two steps at a time, he quickly reached the bedroom. He hadn’t realized how eager he was to lay his eyes upon you. And as ridiculous as it sounded, he’d missed you. Having his brothers around meant both your attentions were divided. That could be changed, though. Everyone would soon retire in their rooms, and he could have you all for himself again.

Rintaro stepped quietly into your bedroom, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the expansive glass walls, casting a silvery sheen over everything it touched. He paused at the entrance, his breath catching as he saw you standing by the window. Your silhouette framed against the vast, star-studded sky. You’re wearing nothing but a silky white nightgown, the sides of it falling down your left shoulder to reveal a strip of bare skin. Bathed under the moonlight, he would’ve thought you were an angel who fell right before him.

Lost in thought, you gazed out at the night scenery.

The gentle waves of the ocean shimmered under the moon’s gentle caress, and the distant sound of the sea breeze whispering through the trees filled the air. The sight of you, bathed in the ethereal glow, made his chest tighten with something unfamiliar. Something alien, something stranger. You looked almost otherworldly, an arm wrapped around your center, and he found it impossible to look away.

The delicate curve of your neck, the lines that made up your profile – everything about you in that moment was perfection.

Rintaro felt his heart swell. Had you always been this beautiful? He knew you were attractive; he wouldn’t have bothered wasting his time on someone he didn’t find pretty. But you were always more than just a pretty face. You were so beautiful, so enchanting, standing there like a figure from a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. He was afraid just as he was bewitched – afraid he’d wake up and find none of this was real, and captivated by how ethereal you looked.

It seemed difficult to wrap his around the fact you were his, because how could he have been so lucky?

He approached you slowly, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you murmured, sensing his presence without turning. It made him smile and pause on his tracks, his gaze fixated on your back before his eyes flickered towards the glass. Through the reflection, he saw you looking back at him, your lips pulling into the smallest of smiles.

His heart stuttered in his chest. Stupid – that’s what he felt. He was as nervous as a schoolboy. “Yes,” he replied softly, his voice full of emotion. As if pulled by an invisible string, Rintaro stepped closer to you – close enough he could inhale the scent of your shampoo and bury his nose in it. That’s exactly what he did. Weak when it came to his wife, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him, resting his cheek at the top of your head. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes shining with the same light that illuminated the night. A smile played on your lips, and in that shared moment of silent connection, he felt an unspoken bond deepen between you. The night, the scenery, the serenity of their surroundings – it all paled in comparison to the beauty he saw in you.

He understood now – why men went to war and put their lives on the line because they believed in something. Because they had something, or someone, worth protecting. Now that you were in his arms, pliant and soft, wholly gorgeous and utterly his, he knew he felt the same.

He would gladly go to war for you.

In fact, there was nothing he couldn’t do for you, because of you. He understood now why people get married, because if this was how his daily life was going to look life, then it seemed a real shame that he could not live forever. A lifetime with you wasn’t enough. And for a brief moment, Iris’ face flickered through his head. This time, the image of her did not fill with him with adoration, or raging jealousy, the blinding effect of greed. He felt nothing but animosity towards her in that moment, his heart chiding him because how could he have been so stupid?

She was nothing like you. She couldn’t – and would never – come close to you.

Rintaro’s eyes softened as he studied your features. Your eyes were red, and dark circles lined them. “Hey,” he nudged your forehead with the pads of his knuckles, “What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat. It didn’t seem like it was nothing, but he didn’t push. He trusted you would tell him when you were ready. For now, he simply wanted to have you like this – in his arms, breathing in his scent, and eyes closed as he swayed you from side to side.

“I missed you.”

Your lips wobbled as you fought back a smile. “Did you now?”

Rintaro was not good with words – never have, never will. He decided in that moment it would be best to convey the emotions he couldn’t express through actions, kissing the top of your head and spinning you to face him. With your face cradled in his hands, Rintaro leant down, his lips gently – but passionately – meeting yours.

It isn’t his first kiss. But it felt like it was in that moment, his heart rampaging inside his ribcage when you made a small sound of surprise. The sound echoed through him, and he groaned, finding the last bits of his restraint breaking like a rusty chain.

Unable to help himself, he gathered you in his arms. Tapping you once on the ass, you immediately jumped into his hold, your legs wrapped around his waist. It was a blur after that – he’d fallen on the bed with you on top of him as soon as the back of his knees hit the wood. It’s nothing if not messy, just as it was sensual and slow – painfully and excruciatingly slow. Yet he couldn’t go fast, refusing to pin you down on the bed and take you hard.

Maybe it was the moonlight flittering in the room. Maybe it was your feminine, soft scent that made him lightheaded and heedy with desire. All he knew was that he wanted the moment to last, wanted to cherish every single thing he did.

So, slow it is. He was slow and took his time as he flipped you under him, using his knee to settle himself in between your legs. Your eyes are blown wide, the mounds on your chest rising up and down with each staggered breath. It filled him with a sense of achievement knowing he’d been the one to cause your undoing. Smiling softly at you, he dove in for another kiss, moaning all throughout at your taste – like red wine, soft and swirling at his tongue. With deft fingers, he reached over to slide the straps of your nightgown down your shoulder, pulling away to pepper small, heated kisses over the skin. You’re breathing hard the entire time.

And your hands are everywhere – tugging at the buttons of his shirt, pulling at the annoying pants he’d kept on. His laugh is muffled as he presses them to the nape of your neck, licking and sucking until you were keening under his palm.

He decided not to torture you any longer. Sliding his lips back to your mouth, Rintaro gently pushed you back to the pillows, his fingers finding purchase at your heat. The moment his hand came in contact with your damp underwear, you whimpered, and he greedily swallowed down the sound. You were so beautiful, so unreal.

Pushing the material to the side, he pushed two fingers and curled them in. Your reaction is instantaneous – pushing your hips off the bed, tilting your neck to the side as you gasped in his mouth. He took the chance and slid his tongue, sucking on yours while his mind ran a mile a minute.

It was as if his senses had been amped up to two.

The rustling of the sheets, the squelch of his fingers in your cunt, and the lewd, slick sounds of your tongues dancing together. It wasn’t long before you’re falling apart in his hands. Moaning, you tugged at his hair, the slight sting nearly driving him crazy. You did this to him; making him fall prey to your desire, making him bend his will at whatever you pleased. He realized you could stab him at this moment, slit his throat, abandon him – he would’ve died a happy man. Seeing you sprawled out before him, your nipples peaked and hard through the thin material of your nightgown, lips bruised and shiny with saliva. You’d never been more beautiful in his eyes.

And when you called out his name, not Your Highness, not my Prince, just Rintaro, he allowed himself to sink deep into you.

Rintaro has reached nirvana. With one hand holding you down by the hip, and the other cradling your face, his thumb caressing your lower lip, his eyes are locked with yours. The world could come crashing down, and nothing could tear his gaze away from you. He drinks you in greedily – every fluttering lash when he thrusts deep, or the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you squeezed tight around him. Beautiful, mine, mine mine mine – his throat constricts with the affection he’s trying so hard to hold back. He wanted to fuck you hard enough you left a deep imprint on the bed, the shape of your bodies embossed on the sheet. To slide in deep, and carve a space for himself inside you that no one else would reach.

He was a mess, and so were you. Wet, sloppy kisses that were more tongue and teeth than lips, with you holding onto him for dear life. It makes him chuckle, only for that same sound to come out garbled and chucked each time you tightened around him. And when you come, your cream outlining a ring around his cock, eyes shut tight and lower lip held captive by your teeth, Rintaro only had one thing in mind: marriage was a beautiful thing.

“You,” he croaked out, feeling a lump form at his throat. He couldn’t understand why his eyes glossed over with tears, or why the mere sight of you brought out with him emotions he was unfamiliar with. “I adore you.”

You reached over to cup his face, your eyes unreadable. “We should rest.”

The sheets were damp, your bodies sticky and uncomfortable. Yet Rintaro couldn’t pull away from you, not even if he were to be forcibly taken away. This is where he belonged – deep inside you, your foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling and your hands intertwined until your wedding rings clinked at the contact.

Here is where he belonged.

Kissing you one last time, Rintaro lets his arms fall around you. He collapses at your side, still buried in your warm, wet heat. He’d been mumbling sleepy nonsense as he tugged you closer to him, an arm wrapped around your midsection, your legs and his just one confusing entanglement. Slowly, his heart returned to its normal pace. It’s no longer screaming, rather humming your name. Nothing felt more right. You were there, your cheek resting on top of his bicep curled under you.

Drawing circles over your bare hip, the delicate scent of roses enveloped him, subtle yet intoxicating.

It was your scent, a fragrance that clung to you like an invisible halo. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing in deeply, savoring the floral notes that seemed to blend seamlessly with the night air. You smelled like grace and elegance, of tender moments shared and memories cherished. Like a princess from a fairytale, he thought, smiling into your skin, because you were a princess. His princess, his wife.

He loved the way you smelled, your fragrance lingering into the sheets and onto his skin long after you’d fallen asleep. Each inhalation was a revelation, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection he’d never felt before. Delicate and profound – you were kissed by the morning dew, fresh and timeless. He cherished it, breathed it in just in case he forgot before looking out the window.

Outside, the whole world stayed still. His Kingdom was out in the open, all for him to take. It was his – the land, the people, all the wealth and power one could wish for. Yet Rintaro felt no attachment to it.

The real treasure was there, in his arms, sharing the same bed with him.

The realization that he wasn’t desperate to be King anymore made him tighten his hold on you, his face buried at the crook of your neck. This was all he wanted now. To live the rest of his life like this – with you, in this home. But he knew it couldn’t be that easy. He had to sever all ties from his past before he could move onto the future, and fully enjoy the present.

Tomorrow, he would break up with Iris.

Tomorrow, he would tell you those three words he’d never uttered before.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

Through the efforts of the royal staff, the palace became a veritable spectacle of opulence and grandeur, transformed into a shimmering paradise befitting for the ninth prince’s debut ball. Crystal chandeliers hung like clusters of starlight from the vaulted ceilings, casting a soft, golden glow over the marble floors that gleamed underfoot. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries and floral arrangements that exuded a heady perfume – one that made Rintaro feel squeamish inside his suit.

Guests in their finest attire filled the grand ballroom, a sea of jewel-toned gowns and sharp tuxedos. The air buzzed with the lively hum of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of champagne glasses and bursts of laughter. An orchestra played a waltz, the music weaving through the crowd and inviting couples to the dance floor, where they glided with grace and precision.

Scanning the ballroom, it was a kaleidoscope of movement and color. Dignitaries, ambassadors, and nobles from far and wide had gathered, their presence a testament to the importance of the occasion. The most influential figures in the kingdom mingled effortlessly, their animated discussions ranging from politics to the latest fashions. The sheer number of luminaries was staggering, each one adding to the ball’s prestige and splendor. Leave it to the Queen to turn a young boy’s important day of his life as an opportunity to establish connections and flaunt her power.

At the center of it all stood Prince Tobio, resplendent in a tailored suit that accentuated his princely bearing. His eyes sparkled with excitement and gratitude as he moved through the crowd, graciously accepting well-wishes and gifts. He was the epitome of charm, engaging each guest with a smile that radiated genuine warmth.

Tables laden with an array of culinary delights lined the edges of the room, each dish a masterpiece of gourmet artistry. From delicate hors d'oeuvres to decadent desserts, the kingdom’s finest chefs had given their utmost best to impress. Servers moved with practiced elegance, ensuring that no glass went unfilled and no plate remained empty.

It was a beautiful ball, Rintaro had to admit. A ball he would’ve greatly appreciated were he not occupied digging his hands into Iris’ hip, her gown fisted under his palms. She tasted even more exquisite today, her lipstick had a touch of cranberries, and he could faintly taste fizzy champagne from her tongue.

It was an unspoken agreement between the two that they would keep their hands to themselves during public events like this. But it was far from being easy – not when Iris wore a tight-fitting gown that accentuated all her curves, leaving very little to Rintaro’s imagination. He’d seen it all, of course. He’d kissed and licked at every spot and corner of her body. He’d memorized the way she tasted on his tongue, or the face she made when he knew she was about to come. He knew all that, and still couldn’t get enough of her. Before the Princess could react, he’d already dragged her into the nearest hallway, his lips furiously crashing with hers.

Screw the party. It wasn’t like his presence was needed; all the Princes had attended. Surely they would not notice the absence of one.

Iris moaned into his mouth, her perfectly manicured nails running upward his suit. She broke free from him to breathe for a moment, but Rintaro was unbothered. He’d turned his attention to sucking down on her neck, his mind flaring with possessiveness. A strategically placed hickey for everyone to see would please him – but it would also make Iris mad at him.

“Your Highness, we should stop this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Iris,” he mumbled, uncaring as Iris wove her hands through his thick hair. “We’re just having fun, are we not? It’s not like anyone can see. I made sure we would be alone.”

“It’s not that,” she flattened her palms over his chest and gave a gentle shove. It’s enough for Rintaro to pull back, studying the way her lower lip puckered out – just like how she always did when she wanted something from him. “I just… I think our relationship is pointless. I don’t see this going anywhere.”

Rintaro chuckled, tipping her chin upwards to make her look at him. “Where would it go? You’re married. I’m in line for the throne. We couldn’t have any more than what we have now.”

“That’s exactly why we should break up. I’m married, and I’m tired of being passed around between you brothers like I’m some sort of toy. I’m a princess, Rinnie. I deserve to have more dignity than just being your… plaything, or whatever.”

“You are not my plaything.”

“I am not your wife, either.”

He stepped back. Tipping his head to the side, he let his eyes roam over Iris’ figure. She was gorgeous, that much was evident. She had sinful curves, her golden skin radiant as if she was touched by the light itself. It was fitting, he thought. Iris burned bright like the sun – passionate, fiery, and scalding. He’d known her long enough that she would stop at nothing to get at what she wanted, but her dilemma was not something he could easily offer her on a platter.

“Is that what you want, then? Title and dignity?”

Iris was a Princess by marriage, one arranged by the Queen herself.

However, Rintaro thought bitterly, no amount of elegance lessons or femininity practices could change Iris at her core. She was a Princess only by decoration, the twinkling tiara on her pretty head an accessory she received from being associated with his brother. But she was not regal – her temper too short, her lies too deceiving, and her smiles too empty.

He loved her, yet somehow the thought of sharing the crown with her felt wrong. Now that he thought about it, not even Princess Maiko would make a fitting Queen – not that Tooru would ever be in line for ascension. It was just a realization. Iris was too hollow in her heart, and Maiko was too childish.

None of them would make good Queens.

Iris shook her head, the tendrils of hair left to frame her face swaying at the motion. “I want security. I don’t want to keep fooling around with you if it risks my position. Unlike you, I don’t have a sweet, dear mother who would catch me if I’m kicked out of the Palace.”

Rintaro gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Fine. I’ll be King, then. And once I ascend to the throne, I’ll have you and my brother separated, and you shall be mine for the rest of our lives.”

She looked like she wanted to laugh at his face, which shouldn’t have to hurt as much as it did. “This is a ridiculous plan. You’re not serious, are you?”

His lips twitched. Somehow, he wanted to wipe that smug look off her face. It was a face he’d seen enough from his tutors and governesses – all too familiar with their disappointed shakes of their head, their pitying looks whenever Rintaro aimed too high. Just stick to the books, they said, there is no need for you to be great. Follow only what is expected of you. Rintaro detested that, to fit into their image of how he should and shouldn’t be.

Levelling his hard gaze with hers, he ripped himself away from her body. Scalded, burnt – that’s how he felt each time he was with her.

“Watch me.”

Rintaro stood at the edge of the ballroom, his keen eyes sweeping over the glittering crowd. His heart was set on finding a suitable potential wife, someone who embodied innocence and modesty. He sought a woman whose presence did not draw undue attention, someone who exuded a quiet grace that promised loyalty and submission. He needed a woman who would be malleable to the wife he wanted, the Queen he needed her to be. Even if it was only to prove a point to Iris that he could succeed, Rintaro still felt that he could not take his decisions lightly.

He had to consider the throne, the mother of his children, a future Princess and a potential Queen.

Observing the throng of guests, his gaze flitted past the more striking and flamboyant ladies who basked in the limelight. They were all stunning, of course. He’d be lying if his gaze did not linger longer than what was seemed acceptable whenever the ladies giggled at his attention. Nevertheless, his attention lingered on those who seemed to blend in the background, their beauty understated and their demeanor serene. Surely one of them would catch his eye. That’s all he wanted – an unassuming, plain, and dull doll whom he could shape to be good enough to stand next to him. He was the Crown Prince, after all.

He looked and looked – and there you were. In a dark blue gown, your eyes downcast in shyness. You moved with an elegance that spoke of gentleness and humility, smiling politely at everyone who greeted you. Still, he could tell you felt out of place. You stuck out like a sore thumb, plastered at the wall, staring out into nothingness and looking like you’d rather be anywhere than here.

And the best part? No other men approached you.

With his goal in sight, Rintaro approached you, impressed with the way you carried yourself with quiet dignity, your every gesture imbued with a subtle charm. You seemed unassuming, yet your eyes held a depth in them that intrigued him. He smiled to himself, deciding that a demure maiden like you might just be the perfect match he was seeking.

“Splendid ball, is it not?”

“Your Highness,” your eyes widened, and Rintaro awaited it. A crack in your composed stature, a flaw for him to point out. Yet, you did not stutter despite your initial shock, your features schooling into that of well-practiced manners in the blink of an eye. “A most wonderful ball, indeed.”

As the Prince surveyed you, his eyes were drawn to your modest adornment. You wore a simple necklace and earring set, understated yet remarkably elegant. It was vastly different from the layers and chunks of crystals the other ladies wore. It was then that recognition sparked in his mind – the jewelry was from a rare collection that had once captivated Her Majesty. He could still remember that day clearly; his mother’s disappointment when she learned it was already sold. Very rarely did the Queen not get what she wanted, but to think that you – simple, quiet, and shy – would be the one to snatch it right under Her Majesty’s nose.

He had to admit, you piqued his curiosity and admiration.

“My baby brother is finally on his path on becoming a man,” he continued, effortlessly swiping a flute of champagne when a servant passed by. You were quick to follow his action, and Rintaro couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name, and your face… Have I seen you around before?”

“Probably not, my Prince. These events are not really my thing.”

He didn’t doubt that. Shortly, you introduced yourself, shocking him as he learned you were a daughter of one of the three noble clans that helped his ancestors build the Inarizaki Empire. He hid his surprise by taking a sip of his drink, and pretended to be nonplussed.

“A lovely name for a lovely woman.”

“How very kind of you, my Prince.”

Deciding you couldn’t be any more perfect, Rintaro cut to the chase. “Are you married?” he’d blurted out, amused by the way your brows shot up. A quick glance at your gloved fingers showed that you were ringless, but so was he, and his heart was still taken by another. “Or, to be married?”

“No. I’m… as available as a lady can be.”

“Then I suppose you would not mind entertaining a Prince bored out of his mind for one night, do you?”

The internal dilemma is written all over your face. It’s obvious you didn’t want to dance, but who are you to say no when the Crown Prince has his hand outstretched?

“Oh, uh… I don’t think you would want me as a dance partner, Your Highness. I have been told I have two left feet–”

“Don’t worry about it. You can step on my feet if you require,” he encouraged, “Come on. Will you really deny your future King a dance?”

“If you insist…”

Forcing a smile to yourself that was more shy than uncomfortable, you eventually placed your hands on his. A perfect fit, if he dared to say it.

The orchestra struck up a waltz, and Rintaro led you to the dance floor. As you began to move, there was an initial and pronounced awkwardness, your hesitance palpable. You were able to follow his lead with precision, your steps flawless and elegant, yet your body was stiff with discomfort. You even stepped on him once or twice, grimacing and quickly apologizing – much to his chagrin. He hadn’t realized one could look so adorable in their conquest of trying not to crush his toes. Despite your unease, however, you danced with a grace that naturally came to you.

As the dance progressed, Rintaro’s eyes scanned for Iris. He found her stood beside Kiyoomi, her husband uninterested and unresponsive as ever. He had his back turned to her, his eyes closed as he leant against the wall. Nursing a drink in her hands, Iris’ gaze connected with his, her eyes narrowing at Rintaro’s hand resting on your waist. Then, her gaze flickered upwards to smirk at him – daring him, challenging him, to prove his words.

Rintaro clenched his jaw. He’d been so distracted by Iris he didn’t notice you’d stepped on his toes again until a short laugh bubbled up from his throat. It surprised you both – neither of you had expected he would find it funny. But he did, and he found himself inexplicably drawn to you.

When the music finally ceased, you both shared a knowing smile before doubling over in silent chuckles. Rintaro pointed at his toes, faking injuries until you were apologizing again and again – your eyes lighting up in joy.

“You are a splendid dancer. It is a shame you look like you would not entertain me for a second one.”

You placed a hand to your chest. “Of course I would never say no to you, Your Highness.”

“So you would not mind if I asked you for another dance later?”

“If it is what you would like.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

 He led you off the dance floor after that, compelled with a desire to actually speak to you. And so conversations were had, and he soon discovered your intelligence and wit, the humor lighting up your face and bringing a warmth to your demeanor. It was a warmth people from the Palace lacked, a genuinity in them he never knew was possible.

Your laughter, a sound he found unexpectedly enchanting, softened your features, making you even more beautiful. In those moments, he realized with a pleasant surprise that he enjoyed your company. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d laughed that hard, or spoke so easily with someone like he’d known them forever.

Could it be fate, then? Was he always meant to find you?

Shaking his head in laughter, his bangs fell into his eyes. “You are very pleasant company to have. I’m surprised no one has snagged you for themselves yet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Nobody is interested.”

“I find that a shame. Why wouldn’t they be?”

“There are just more eligible, more charming ladies out there. One with more charisma, and a little more grace–”

“But they do not have your humor. Or your wit,” tracing his gloved fingers to the curve of your cheek, Rintaro’s voice lowered as he spoke softly. “Or your beauty.”

The moment your breath hitched, Rintaro learned of a new desire: to learn what other reactions he could pull from you. It made him want to learn of all the most heart-fluttering lines, to memorize poetry and recite them to you, if only it would make you turn away, abashedly, once more.

“You are too kind, my Prince.”

“I am only being truthful,” he smirked, “And I have always been a lover of all that is beautiful.”

As the evening wore on and Rintaro spent more time with you, your innocent charm and unguarded nature became increasingly apparent. He felt a calculated determination solidify within him. You were the perfect person to be his Princess – not because his heart yearned for you, that was impossible. He had Iris already. Rather, your genuine demeanor and lack of guilde made you an ideal figure to shape and influence, a malleable partner who would submit to his will and fortify with his position without the complications of a more independent, fiery spirit.

You were simple, quiet, and boring. And the plan was simple enough: win your heart, marry you, become King, and cast you aside once he could finally be with the one he loved. Rintaro knew with absolute certainity when that time came, you would be too deeply in love with him. And when one was in love, one would forgive.

+

“You came.”

“It would be considered treason if I didn’t.”

Ah, yes. You and your quick remarks. It was one of the many things he liked about you. Smiling to himself, he pulled you deeper into the gardens. “Come. Follow me.”

It had been exactly three days since Tobio’s debut ball, three days since he’d laid his eyes on you. Rintaro wasted no time formulating his plan and putting it into action. He immediately called on you, made a formal visit to the Yuzuru Estate, and finished reading The Art of War if only to impress your father. That night he found out your father was also the Kingdom’s general, Rintaro hesitated. You seemed too important a figure to depose when the time came. But the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense.

He would be the future King, and the General was loyal to the crown and whoever sat in it. He would simply do his best to win your parents’ favor – which wasn’t all that hard. As soon as he arrived, your mother was swooning, and Rintaro knew he’d already won.

Today marked the first of your many dates. In a year or two, he would finally marry you.

Walking through the gardens with your hands shyly brushing against each other, Rintaro struggled to contain his emotions. It was his first time wooing a lady, much less be with someone who he’d never known before. Things were different with Iris; she approached him first. But with you… Rintaro felt that he had to be careful. Precise. Perfect.

He’d stayed up all night searching up on good date spots before deciding to invite you to the Palace. He didn’t think a public appearance for a first date would be good. Sure, he liked you, but things could still go wrong. But here in the privacy of his home, it felt more natural to act like he was this charming, effortlessly smooth Prince he wanted to present himself as.

Thankfully, the day was beautiful.

The morning sun bathed the palace gardens in a soft, golden glow, casting delicate shadows among the vibrant flowers and lush greenery. As you strolled through the grounds, he spotted you standing by a rose bush, your face turned towards the sky, basking in the gentle warmth of the new day.

For the first time, he saw you clearly in the daylight, and the sight took his breath away.

Your beauty, which had been understated under the dim ballroom lights, now seemed to radiate with an ethereal quality. The sunlight danced on your hair, highlighting its hues, and your skin glowed with a natural luminescence. The simplicity if your attire, a pale yellow dress, unadorned by the elaborate jewels of the previous evening, only served to enhance your natural beauty.

Your eyes, bright and clear, reflected the sky’s azure, and your lips curved into a serene smile as you inhaled the fragrant air.

Unknowingly, his mouth opened before he could think twice about it. “I thought you were beautiful in the moonlight, but seeing you for the first time in daylight… you are nothing short of bewitching.”

The smile on your face faltered, your fingers nervously twisting the fabric of your dress.

“Your Highness, if I may be so bold–” you sucked in a breath, grimacing, “–why are you interested in me?”

Rintaro blinked back in confusion. He was the Crown Prince. He was wealthy, handsome, and powerful. Shouldn’t any woman he showed interest in look delighted? Why did you look baffled instead?

Scratching his ear, his brow furrowed. “Do I have any reason not to be? I enjoyed my dance with you, and so did our conversations. You are… different from everyone I’ve met. I found myself unable to stop thinking of you ever since I held your hand in mine,” he said, surprising himself that he actually meant what he said. “When I formally called to your parents to court you, they welcomed me like I was their own son. I knew immediately I wanted to give their daughter the whole world and nothing less.”

Your pretty face pulled into a frown. “But you do not know me yet.”

He gestured to the gardens around you. “That is what we are here for – to get to know each other.”

“And if you do not like what you learn?”

Ah. So that’s what you were worried about?

He wanted to call you out for being silly; he would never choose someone he did not think was good enough for him. Love or not, he needed a woman he wouldn’t be ashamed to marry. However, he kept that sentiment to himself, because he, too, was curious on who you were beyond the surface.

“Test me, my Lady. You’ll find I might like you more than you’ll know,” he insisted, carefully picking out a rose and picking out the thorns. Your eyes widened in panic, but he merely brushed you off with a reassuring smile. Once the rose was picked free of its thorns, Rintaro offered it to you. “So tell me. What exactly can I do to win your heart?”

You giggled, twirling the rose between your fingers. “I believe you could win anyone’s heart. You’re a Prince, after all.”

“I do not want to steal anyone’s heart. I only want yours,” he smirked, basking in the way you hid your flustered face behind the rose. He couldn’t understand this sensation – like a flower blooming in season, his heart slowly unfurling as he leant down to your level, using his fingers to delicately pry the flower. It truly is a shame; you didn’t need to hide your lovely face so much.

“Are you saying if I were not a Prince, I would not even be worth your time?”

You huffed, turning away from him. Behind you, you could hear Rintaro laugh, the both of you knowing you were determined to not let the Prince read you like an open book. “I think… even if you were a Prince, I would appreciate it if a man took his time to get to know me.”

“I see,” he says, unfazed by the challenge. “It’s a good thing I have all the time in the world – there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing than know you, my Lady.”

The palace gardens lay before you, a hidden paradise veiled in the delicate glow of twilight. He gently guided you along the cobblestone path, his heart pounding in anticipation. This was your first date, and he listened to every word that escaped your lips. Everything you wished for was going to be his bible now, his guide into winning your heart. Not a word spoken by you was left unheard, and Rintaro already had your heart mapped out inside his head.

As you walked, the gardens seemed to come alive. Each flower and leaf whispering secrets of the past. The air was heavy with the fragrance of blooming roses, their velvety petals a riot of colors against the lush greenery. And when you walked past him, he vaguely realized the scent was emanating from you, too.

Rintaro stopped by a secluded alcove, where an array of moonflowers and lillies bathed in the sinking glow of the sun. He turned to you, his eyes reflecting the gentle light.

Reaching out, he gently took your hand and led you closer to a cluster of white lilies, their pure, delicate blooms standing tall and proud. “You remind me of these lilies,” he continued, his voice low and sincere. “Graceful, elegant, and timeless. They possess a quiet strength, a beauty that captivates and endures.”

You looked at the lilies, then back at him. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you whispered, voice tinged with awe.

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “Nor have I, until I saw you. Just as these lilies thrive here in this garden, I hope you’ll find your place in my life, bringing beauty and grace to every moment we share.”

Your nervous giggle echoed through the alcove. “That’s a little fast, isn’t it, Your Highness?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “My apologies. You couldn’t blame me for getting excited,” at his words, you both shared an easygoing laugh.

Soon, he fell into step beside you, enamored by the way you fit so perfectly beside him like this – with him standing tall in his boots, and your steps falling in sync with your dainty heels that peeked out often from your dress.

“What would your dream life look like?”

“Dream life?” you hummed to yourself, your hands joined d behind your back. “I guess… I’d want to live by the sea – with a nice, beautiful house. I want it big enough that I feel like I could walk there forever and not get tired, where there’s a sunroof and plenty of glasses so it looks like I’m being bathed by sunlight each time. That sounds perfect, does it not?”

“It does,” he could picture it already, this house of yours. It’s only the first date, and Rintaro was already eager to go out and find this house you dreamt of. And if it did not exist, then he would have to build it with his own hands. “Does this dream life include being with a loved one?”

You snuck a shy glance at him. “Well, of course, but it never crossed my mind I might get married for love someday.”

“Let the world surprise you, my Lady.”

The two of you stood there, surrounded by the fragrant blossoms and the gentle glow of dusk, the world narrowing to just the two of them. Thought not yet in love – and he could never be – Rintaro savored every moment spend in your company, enjoying your conversations and the shared laughter that echoed under the orange sky. In your presence, he felt a rare ease, a comforting companionship that hinted at deeper – more intimate possibilities – yet unexplored.

And when you gazed up at him, with your head tilted down and peeking up only from your lashes, your smile shy and reserved, Rintaro knew he had to see you again. Soonest, at best.

“May I call on you again?”

You dipped into a curtsy. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“A call you would heed, I’m hoping?”

Biting your lip, you nodded. “I’ll be there. You know I could never refuse a Prince.”

+

A week later after your first date, Rintaro realized – much to his dismay – that he does not have any pictures of you. With flaming cheeks, and a hand to cover his face, he quickly typed your name on the Internet. There aren’t much results, as he expected. But there was one article, dated six months ago when you were sighted travelling with your mother in Greece. You’re in a flowy, white sundress, waving shyly at the cameras. There’s a hibiscus tucked at your ear, the flower the exact same shade as your lipstick.

Rintaro’s arm draped over his head.

“What am I doing…” he muttered to himself, and with one eye peeking at his phone, he saves your photo and sets it as his phone wallpaper.

+

It’s around your eleventh date when he decided that he wanted to take you out personally, sans the security team and the cameras following around. It wasn’t anything extravagant; just a simple, romantic dinner at your favorite restaurant. It went like any other date – peaceful, enjoyable, memorable.

The night wasn’t any different than the others. At least not until he’d dropped you off at the Yuzuru Estate. You’d been so beautiful that night in your dress, the fabric cascading like silk spun from dreams. You’d always been like that – dreamy, a tad too good to be true.

Driving you home along winding lanes dappled with moonbeams, Rintaro sensed the weight of the moment poised delicately between them. Halting at your place, he stopped you before you could move. He was a gentleman, he should open the doors for you, but his touch felt different. He felt different. His gaze traced the contours of your face, where the shadows danced upon it. In that suspended breath, in the silence of his car where he could hear the rapid beating of both your hearts – and he thanked the Gods he wasn’t the only one nervous – Rintaro leaned in.

The first touch of your lips set his nerves on fire. Like fireworks exploding within him, his stomach tumbleweeding and crashing, like being sucked into a black hole and drowning in non-existence.

It isn’t his first kiss – that was Iris. But it might as well be his first kiss, with the way he’s immediately hungering for more. To kiss you harder, press against you with more ferocity than he ever thought he was capable of, and to pull you onto his lap because you simply weren’t close enough. No, he wanted you to take up every space and inch of his life. To breathe in the same air you did, to exist under the same stars and moon. You could consume him and he would thank you for it.

Was this how first kisses felt like? If it was, then he would willingly sacrifice one of his idiot brothers in the hopes you felt the same. That he’d made your first kiss a good and memorable experience, instead of feeling like it’d been stolen just like Iris did.

All too quickly, the moment ends. The need for air makes you both pull apart, eyes wide and breathing heavily. The kiss is short but sweet, one that Rintaro would stay up all night thinking about over and over again. He almost regretted it, how it was over sooner than he’d liked – until you leaned in and kissed his cheek, mumbling a quick “thank you for dinner!” before running out the car, and disappearing behind the gates.

Rintaro fell back into his seat. Any other time, he would’ve felt upset you didn’t let him escort you back the house. He’d let it slide for tonight – only because you were embarrassed, and that sneaky cheek kiss was enough to appease him.

He doesn’t pull out from the driveway until you were waving at him from your bedroom window. Windows rolled down, he waved back, and headed back for the Palace.

The entire ride back, Rintaro had his thumb swiping over his lips every so often.

Your lip gloss still lingers, and he can’t help but wish you’d been his first kiss instead.

Tonight, Rintaro whispered to himself, tonight he would tell you everything.

On the secluded stretch of sand where the ocean collided, Rintaro had meticulously laid out a tableau of romance beneath a canopy of stars. Each detail spoke of his adoration: a gossamer canopy adorned with twinkling lights gently swayed in the sea breeze, casting a warm glow over the fine linens and flickering candles. Seashells adorned the table, their iridescent surfaces reflecting the moon’s gentle caress.

A carafe of chilled wine stood ready, its glass catching the shimmering light of the evening tide. Nearby, a small fire crackled, casting a warm, inviting glow amidst the cool embrace of the night.

As Rintaro amidst the romantic dinner he’d prepared, a nervous anticipation fluttered in his chest.

Tonight, amidst the symphony of the waves and the whisper of palm fronds, he would finally reveal the depth of his heart. It would be more than a confession – it was also the right time to ask for your forgiveness. Until now, he still couldn’t believe you chose to be by his side after everything he did. How you chose to protect him, and risked meeting men alone, all to save his reputation. He’d hurt you, over and over, and you’d chosen to stay loyal, over and over. He had to make sure tonight was perfect.

He’d been so desperate he turned to his brothers for help: Osamu prepared the meals, Tobio went out to buy a bouquet of flowers, and Kiyoomi helped him decorating the table. Kiyoomi seemed hesitant at first, scowling down at him when he knocked down his brother’s door. Rintaro couldn’t blame him – he’d been an awful husband to you, no excuses. But he could be better. He would be better. And after seeing his sincerity, Kiyoomi eventually stopped grumbling and helped him.

“Don’t mess this up. This might be your last chance,” he’d warned Rintaro, and he couldn’t agree more. “And for the record, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.”

When Rintaro woke up that morning and you weren’t beside him anymore, he felt true fear for the first time. He felt like he was brought back to that time you’d gone for Itachiyama, and left him behind. That bone-chilling fear of seeing your side of the bed empty was enough to wake him up.

He couldn’t restart over from zero, but he could try. He would go down on his knees to beg for forgiveness if he had to. He’d do anything – absolutely anything – just to win your heart once more. He’d done it before, he could do it again. Only this time, he promised to keep your heart safe. Rintaro didn’t want to hurt you anymore.

But before he could confess to you, he had to get this over with first.

With the sun dipping low on the horizon, the sky painted in hues of melancholy gold and crimson, Rintaro made his way silently toward the beach. The gentle lapping of the waves provided a solemn rhythm to his steps, each footfall heavy with the weight of his purpose. There, amidst the soft, shining sands, he spotted Iris, her figure a silhouette he’d immediately recognize against the backdrop of the fading day. She sat with her shoulders slumped, her gaze distant and eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The air around them hung heavy with the unspoken knowledge of what was to come.

In the quietude of the moment, Rintaro approached with a heavy heart, knowing that their time together would soon unravel like the receding tide.

“Hey,” he mumbled, crossing his legs as he filled in the space next to her. Beside him, Iris rested her cheeks on her arms, her knees drawn together. Rintaro sucked in a breath. Iris looked… miserable. Her skin was dull, and dry. If he’d seen this side of her months ago, he would’ve reached over and wiped the tracks of dried tears on her face. Pulled her into his arms as he consoled her, and maybe even joked he’d beat up whoever made her cry.

But he couldn’t do that now. He didn’t want to, either.

Looking at Iris felt like looking at a stranger. Rintaro had loved her for a long time – ever since he was eighteen. Now, eight years later, and she still held a portion of his heart. Not romantically, but he’d known her forever. She’d been his first kiss, his first love, his first time, his first everything’s. She was the one who’d taught him how to handle his alcohol, the one who told him it was okay to not be so perfect, and when the time came – the one who’d been the reason Rintaro found you.

He couldn’t hate her, not really. Iris wasn’t a bad person; she was just misunderstood. She was lonely, desperate, and didn’t have a place to call home. She had nothing at all before she was suddenly thrown into a loveless marriage with a man who couldn’t stand her. And how could he hate her? He was just to blame as she was.

He was just as lonely as she was.

“Hey,” she greeted back, her voice cracked and broken.

“Are you alright?” he couldn’t help but ask, bumping his shoulder with hers. The contact didn’t set his skin on fire anymore, and Rintaro pursed his lips as he recalled it all – the times he’d obsessed over her, only for it to disappear. Like it never existed in the first place. In the back of his mind, fear loomed over him again – because what if that happened to you, too? What if, one day, you looked him in the eye and couldn’t recognize him anymore? What if one day, all the love you had for him vanished into thin air, too?

“I’m okay,” Iris said, even if they both knew she didn’t mean it.

“Kiyoomi told me you barely left your room.”

She chuckled, the sound mocking and muffled as she buried her head in her arms. “Pardon me if I didn’t want to join your play pretend of house. My entire stay here has been awful. You’re all acting like… like everything is okay.”

Rintaro sighed, “Listen, Iris… I know what we had was complicated. You’re married, and I was young and foolish. We did things we weren’t supposed to do – things we cannot take back,” he admitted, finally braving to reach over and cup her knee. Iris didn’t react, didn’t move or pull away. She remained frozen where she sat, save for the slight shake of her shoulders. Rintaro’s heart ached. “What we had was special, and I cherished it, cherished you, but I think we should finally end things.”

“You’re breaking up with me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. One Rintaro couldn’t deny.

“Yes.”

Iris lifted her head, her face tear-stained as she laughed. “You should’ve done that a long time ago, if you weren’t so damn stubborn.”

Despite himself, Rintaro’s lips pulled into a bitter smile. “That would be my fault. I thought I was in love with you.”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t know,” he said, even though his heart was screaming no, no I don’t. “I always thought it was going to be you. You were the only one who I ever wanted this much, and when I found out you married my brother, I thought my world was going to end. That I was put on this Earth just to suffer and watch you fall for someone else when that should’ve been me. But then she came, and – and marriage is not so bad. If it’s going to be like this every day, I would gladly endure the troubles of the throne. I can do anything as long as she’s by my side,” the words are spilling out of his mouth, his heart, before he could stop himself. Rintaro clutched at his chest, watching the way his wedding ring glinted with the sunset. “I’m not sure if it’s love, but I do know I can’t watch someone I care about slip through my fingers again. I lost you already; I can’t lose her, too.”

“You’re giving up on becoming King? Just like that?”

“Not entirely. The throne is my birthright,” he reminded her, hating the way she always seemed to doubt him even in their end. But he was tired, so tired, that he no longer argued. “I just want to enjoy my marriage, Iris. And I think that’s something you’ve always wanted too.”

“So that’s it. We’re over.”

“We are.”

“Good,” she sniffled, wiping her tears with the back of her palm. The relief on her voice was palpable, and Rintaro lifted his head to look at her – watching the way her face broke out into a giddy smile. “Because I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.”

“Someone like me? What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you know, Rin?” she turned to him, her smile cruel, and her eyes so cold it brought a chill down his spine. But nothing could compare to the dread he felt when he heard her next words, and that’s when he knew – his life would never be the same ever again.

The morning unfolded with a gentle whisper of anticipation when you returned to your room, a cryptic note left behind by Rintaro. It bore a simple request: “Dress up for tonight. Meet me at the beach.”

You loathed the way your heart fluttered with a blend of nervous excitement and curiosity. You loathed yourself even more for what you let happen last night – with him making love to you, and worshipping your body before you’d fallen asleep in his arms. It was slowly becoming torture. You didn’t know how to act anymore, how to keep up this act. How could you have been so foolish – believing that he could buy you a house and ignore his girlfriend, and suddenly that made everything okay? Because it didn’t. It didn’t change the fact that he loved her first, he loved her long enough that he’d gotten her pregnant.

It hurt even more the longer you pondered about it – did he know the entire time? Was that why he’d suddenly become sweet? The longer you thought about it, the more you felt sick to your stomach whenever you entertained the possibility that maybe he didn’t know.

Maybe he’d just truly had a change of heart.

Maybe he’d finally fallen in love with you.

But if that was real, all would change once he found out he was going to become a father. Iris couldn’t get rid of the baby – it was a royal child, unborn or not. She must’ve known that, too, otherwise she wouldn’t be so desperate. And what would happen next? You could lose Rintaro and Kiyoomi all at once.

You crept out of your husband’s arms the moment you came to. He was still fast asleep, looking so at peace and unaware that it felt wrong to leave. But it felt even more wrong to stay, so quickly exited the room and started early. Breakfast was served, the other Princes started playing again, until you couldn’t handle it anymore – pretending everything was fine, pretending like you couldn’t notice Rintaro’s longing stares at you from the other side of the room. You avoided him under the guise of tending to your guests, and it wasn’t long enough before he’s kissing your cheek, and went upstairs to disappear.

That was when you saw his note.

Now, you stood before an array of delicate fabrics and jewels. Choosing with care, you draped yourself in a gown of celestial blue, its silk like a cascade of moonlit waves against your skin. Jewels, glinting like captured stars, adorned your neck and wrists, adding a subtle sparkle to your reflection in the mirror.

As evening descended, you made your way down the beach, the scent of night-blooming flowers mingling with the soft rustle of your gown. There, your eyes caught sight of candles lit in the distance, a scatter of petals around a table and two chairs. The glow of lanterns and the shimmer of a thousand stars above awaited you like a secret garden of enchantment. There, beneath the velvet sky, you stood in quiet expectation, your heart racing with the promise of an eventful evening.

The dinner set up, adorned with its evening charms, you awaited Rintaro’s arrival with a patient grace. You stood there, rubbing your hands down your bare arms with growing unease as the minutes stretched into an eternity.

Each passing second seemed to amplify the rustling of the wind, heightening your senses to every distant footfall and murmur of the night. Your fingers, intertwined nervously, betrayed the inner turmoil mirrored in your furrowed brow and the anxious flutter of your heart. Time itself became an adversary, teasing you with its slow passage as uncertainty wrapped around you like a shroud.

The breeze picked up, whispering the unspoken question – where was he?

With each unanswered moment, your apprehension deepened, casting shadows upon the once-hopeful tableau of your rendezvous. When he finally appeared, a chill seemed to settle over the air despite the warmth of the evening.

Rintaro’s handsome features, usually a portrait of princely composure, were now etched with lines of sorrow and eyes that spoke of turmoil within. In his trembling hand, he held a bouquet of deep red roses, their velvety petals trembling as if mirroring his own unsteady emotions. Every movement he made seemed to carry the weight of a world crashing down upon him. The carefully chosen attire that once adorned him with regal splendor now draped over a figure that seemed to struggle beneath its weight.

As he approached, your eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes – of secrets unsaid, of a heart breaking under the strain of unspoken burdens. The bouquet he offered, usually a gesture of affection, now felt like a peace offering. A plea for understanding amidst the raging sea of emotions crashing against the shore of your fragile marriage.

The question hung at the tip of your tongue. Do you know? you wanted to ask, your fingers trembling and your eyes welling up with tears when Rintaro pointedly avoided your gaze.

“Rin,” you pleaded, closing the distance between you two as you stepped closer to him. Please, say something. Tell me, do you know? Did she tell you?

The questions die at the back of your throat as Rintaro closes his eyes, leaning forward and kissing your cheek. Your husband had never felt so far away than he did in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, and pulled away. His words were loud and clear, yet his gaze was distant – like you weren’t even there in front of him. “This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

[areislol]

A shopping spree

►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. slightly suggestive, slight spoilers for the movie guardians of the galaxy? (nothing much really), not proof read.

►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.

►— a/n. i’m really enjoying this series sm 😭 and i’m really glad you guys are too!! makes me super happy i can’t even sjsnskwnaka BUT YES i hope you guys enjoy this!! ❤️

►— wordcount. 5.1k

✧ part one | ✧ part two | ✧ part three | ✧ part four | ✧ part five | more tba.. NAVIGATION

recommended to listen to: moon - siggerr or mabagal - daniel padilla & moira dela torre or flashing lights - kanye west

Previously..

“It’s silent and dark with only the sound of the softly humming fan. Everybody is awake and you knew it. You could hear the soft breathing of Al-haitham and Dainsleif coming from both sides of you. Soon, a thought and realisation pops in your mind.”

“Wait, you guys didn’t go shower yet.. right?”

“….Yeah..”

“You sighed, knowing that you would probably have to go shopping tomorrow for clothes and sanitary products aaaand probably go broke.”

Today was a new day as the sunlight seeped through the blinds, lighting up the room with a golden hue. Groaning softly you squeezed your eyes shut and stretched out your arms and feet when you suddenly felt two arms tightening their grip on your waist.

Your eyes snapped open and turned your head to the side and found Al-haitham nuzzling his face in your neck while Dainsleif snaked his arm your waist as tightly. No wonder why you felt so warm, and although your waist did hurt you didn’t complain at all.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as the realisation dawns on you. Two.. handsome muscular men.. hugging you in bed. And the more you really took a look at their faces and scanned their features did you really start to grow hot. Your body tenses up as you took a deep breath to calm down.

It’s okay Y/n, just breathe… breath in.. and breath ou-

Dainsleif’s arm around your waist tightens even more, and as he does this you realise something. His arm was resting on your bare stomach. I mean if you had a t-shirt on or something covering your stomach it would be okay but your stomach was being revealed, meaning that Al-haitham and Dainsleif was touching you bare..

Okay Y/n that sounded very weird.

But before you could’ve done anything you look up above and see Childe looming forward, smiling at you.

“Good morning snookums! How did you sleep? Terrible right? Since you weren’t sleeping with me.” Childe questioned before eyeing Al-hai Tham’s and Dainsleif’s arm snaking around your waist. A look of disgust forms on his face.

Although his thoughts differ from his face, he puts on a fake smile and offers to pull you out of this mess, although you really did like being sandwiched between them in the warmes they created, you really should get up as you had plans for today.

“Mhm, it is getting kind of hot being in between them..” you mumbled, face hot from embarrassment and also from the hotness.

Childe nod his head and placed his hands on your waist (while pushing Al-haitham and Dainsleif’s arms away) and hoisted you up. You yelped as you felt his sort-of cold hands on your bare skin and your hands latched onto his arm.

He set you down on the floor, the sounds of discomfort could be heard from the bed as their warmth was being taken away so abruptly. You felt bad for them but at the same time the way their face scrunched up and their arms scoop the empty space, trying to hold you but to no avail.

“Thanks Childe.. where is everybody else?” You asked, looking around your bedroom and seeing nobody else except for you, Childe, Al-haitham and Dainsleif.

You were sure one of the two would wake up early as they didn’t seem like the type to sleep in but considering they were still dead asleep, you changed your mind. (Truth was they do wake up early but since it was so warm and cozy they slept for a little longer)

You walked towards the bathroom and yawned, rubbing your eyes as you dragged your feet to the bathroom to get ready. From last night you knew that you had to go out shopping the next day, which was today.

Sighing, you began to brush your teeth while staring at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how much you were going to spend, you had to buy clothes, toothbrushes and food as well.

After spitting out the toothpaste with water you washed your face and walked back into your room and found Childe, Al-haitham and Dainsleif gone from your room, they probably went out to your living room.

You rummaged through your closet, trying to find a perfect outfit for today, but soon you realised that you weren’t going out on a date or somewhere big, just going out to buy necessities.

Grabbing a white tee and black shorts, you put it on before slipping on some socks. Once you checked how you looked in the mirror you flattened your hair a bit before walking out of your room and making your way to the living room.

“Good morning everyone” you greet, grabbing the plate with pancakes on them that Thoma handed over to you and thanked him.

Everybody greeted you back, some even getting up from their spots and walking up to you, wanting to eat next to you and feed you before anyone could.

“You look like you’re about to go out somewhere, are you?” Zhongli asked as he eyed you up and down, Neuvillette and Tighnari nodded, agreeing with Zhongli.

You began to stuff pancakes into your mouth and nod your head. “Mhm, waisht-“ you said with food still in your mouth. After gulping down the food you spoke again.

“Well I have to buy more toothbrushes, food and clothes for you guys as well, you can’t be going on about your day staying here wearing the same thing everyday right?”

They all hummed in agreement, going back to eating their pancakes. “I’ll be leaving in a few minutes, I’ll probably be back in an hour or so.”

All the while, Xiao walked up to you and stared at you intensely. Your eyes widened at him and smiled. “Yes Xiao?”

“Can I.. feed you too? I-I mean-“ his awkwardness and his blushing cheeks made your heart pound faster. He was adorable. “Of course, Xiao. I would love for you to feed me!”

You can see how Xiao’s cheeks flushed red when you agreed. Inside, his heart was racing 100x faster, and also from the happiness of feeding you first and beating the rest.

Opening your mouth, you wait for Xiao to feed you—and as he picks up the pancake with the fork, he placed it inside of your mouth, your mouth closed and you began to chew, somehow, it tasted even better when Xiao fed you.

“Mhm~ tastes even better..” you moaned, swallowing before opening your mouth once again to be fed. Xiao blushed some more as you opened your mouth, indicating that you wanted to be fed again.

And so that’s how Xiao ended up hand feeding you everything while everybody was glaring holes into the back of his head.

And Xiao knew this, but it didn’t affect him—not even the slightest. All he cared about was making sure you were being fed.

One by one everyone placed their plates in the sink, some washing their own dishes by their own to save Thoma some time while some didn’t (ahem wanderer and the fatui except for Pantalone and Pierro ahem).

Once everyone was done eating and the plates had been washed by Thoma with the help of you, you grabbed your bag and keys, making sure everything was in the bag.

“Okay, my keys yes, my purse yes, my pepper spray yes.. okay I’m ready!” You mumbled to yourself and put your shoes on before unlocking your door, not even a step outside—Zhongli called for you.

“How about some of us come with you? We need to make sure you’re safe and protect you.”

At first you refused to let them come, I mean they would attract so many people because of their peculiar clothings and their hair and everything!! But the more you thought about it the more you accepted it.

“Eh.. sure why not? But maybe just- uh, here come with me..” you closed the door behind you and took off your shoes and walked to your room. Zhongli along with Kaeya, Ayato and Neuvillette trailed behind you.

They entered the room and found you going through your wardrobe. “My friend gave me some of his shirts this one time, and I kept it. Thankfully I didn’t throw them out or something.. here, try these on in the bathroom.”

It was just a plain, simple t-shirt, nothing out of the ordinary. They all nodded and took the shirts you gave them, after a few minutes of everyone taking their turns using the bathroom they came out in a white tee shirt and grey sweatpants.

Honestly it was a miracle that you had enough clothes for them to use that were in their size. You had to admit, they looked quite fancy despite wearing something to simple, they looked like models.

“Alright, we’re done, we should go out now.” Zhongli nodded and let you walk out first. Reaching the door, you put on your shoes again and unlocked the door before turning around and waving goodbye.

“I’m off you guys! Remember, Dainsleif and Albedo are in charge, don’t make a mess!”

As you made sure everybody nodded their heads, you turned away and clicked the lock on your door before the others following right behind you, and with the sound of the door clicking closed, Wanderer, Childe, Xiao, Diluc and the fatui began to glare at each other.

It was only a couple minutes walk away to the closest mall, as you left the house, you could hear Kaeya gasping in awe. That’s right, ever since they arrived at your place they haven’t been out, so it would be their first time out in public.

They all looked around their surroundings, observing everything, from the tall buildings and the people on their skateboards, to the small lizards scrambling away from the pigeons.

“Oh, that seems interesting. What is that device they are riding on? That looks dangerous.” Zhongli points out, admiring how they did flips and tricks on the skateboard. “Oh that? That’s a skateboard, people use it to ride around the area and stuff like that.”

Zhongli hums when Ayato points out the large and tall buildings. “What do they even hold in that blue tall building?” He says, pointing at the building.

“For work and stuff.” You replied, walking on the path towards the mall. “For.. work? Wow..” Neuvillette makes sure that he walks side by side next to you.

They were all totally unaware of the people glancing at them, you couldn’t blame them, they looked like models. But you couldn’t help but feel a bubbling sensation of jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

Zhongli, Kaeya and Ayato walked up to you and Neuvillette, following right beside you.

You finally arrived at in front of the mall and smiled. “That’s the mall!” You point at the large, white building. “That’s a mall? It’s huge..” Kaeya mumbles to which you nod and smirk.

“That’s what she said.”

They all cock their heads to the side to what you said, you have never felt so embarrassed in your life before. “Oh no it’s nothing.” You quickly shut your mouth and began to make your way into the mall.

During the — what you called — a shopping spree (because you have never went out to a mall for so long before), you smiled many times due to the cuteness of them being in awe and amazement at everything.

Although you frowned as well due to the many stares coming from multiple people. You could literally feel them staring at them, and when you turned your head around you could see groups of girls giggling to themselves before looking away, still giggling.

You were fuming in the inside but couldn’t show it, I mean it wasn’t like you guys were dating or anything so what was there to be jealous about?

But it was almost like they could sense your jealousy, so as you two were just walking to the clothing shop, Kaeya wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling you in close to him.

“Kaeya? What are you doing that fo-“ “shhh, just relax, where are we going now?”

“To Uniqlo… a clothing shop.”

Kaeya hums and you two made your way to Uniqlo. Before you knew it, Kaeya had his arm around your neck, Ayato holding your hand as Zhongli and Neuvillette trailed behind you.

As you all walked into the clothing shop, you were greeted by a helper and as soon as she laid eyes on the four men you were accompanied with, you noticed how she batted her eyelashes at them, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you.

“Hello, welcome to Uniqlo! Are you guys looking for something in particular? Perhaps i could give..” the worker looks up at Zhongli. “You a discount.”

You step in between them and smiled. “Excuse, it’s not just him here you know? And we’re fine by ourselves, thank you.”

The lady seems taken aback from your sudden appearance even though she could literally spot you with them all. Forcing a smile, she nods her head and apologised.

As you squeeze Ayato’s hands tighter, you dragged him deeper into the store. They all gave each other a look of “what just happened back there, is it what I think it is?”

But before any of them could question why you sounded bitter and jealous, you already let go of Ayato’s hand and Kaeya’s grasp—walking over to shelves full of clothes.

You spent the next hour making them trying on clothes, holding up the hanger with the shirts on them and pressing it against their body.

“Eh.. that should fit! Go inside the changing rooms and then come out, we can judge then. And also tell me if it fits.”

And so after spending a few minutes of changing in and out of the changing rooms and finding some shirts, jackets and pants for them (you really struggled with trying to find the right size for everybody.. especially Itto. So you just bought two pairs of each size.) you walked to the counter and bought everything.

“And your total is $150.47 cents!”

“… s-sorry come again?”

“Your total is $150.47 cents? Cash or card?”

You held your purse and stared at the screen that clearly read “$150.47”. You paid and left the shop absolutely bamboozled and crying on the inside—so much money was spent.. even your purse was crying.

While Zhongli, Ayato, Kaeya and Neuvillette followed you from behind, watching you sulk. “$150 is nothing, don’t you think?” Maybe they’re overreacting a little bit?” Ayato whispered to Zhongli.

“Hm, I’m sure their currency is different than ours and the value.” He replied, watching you walk so… sadly. If that was even a thing. Neuvillette nodded, agreeing with Zhongli.

All of the sudden you stopped in your tracks and turned around, looking at them. It almost gave them a heart attack.

“Food! I forgot to buy food and snacks! No time for sulking I’ll go sulk later!”

You quickly grabbed the hand of the person closer to you—which was Neuvillette (which caught him off guard but he held onto your hand tightly nonetheless) and began to walk fast to wherever you were going to.

“It’s almost 3 pm, we should hurry up, I don’t want to leave them for too long.. oh! We should go to a food court and just buy take away instead of buying ingredients, I’ll do that another day.” You rambled.

Entering the food court, they all looked around in amazement but also.. somewhat disgust? It definitely looked dirty and it would be downright weird to eat in a place that is unhygienic.

“Lets buy some sushi and rice.” You stated, holding onto both Neuvillette and Kaeya’s hand and walking to the sushi bar.

“Mm~ it certainly smells amazing! Are we going to eat this for lunch or dinner?” Kaeya asks, mouth almost drooling from the smell of sashimi. You nod your head and chuckled. “Of course, eat it whenever you’re hungry!”

After ordering everything you needed, you all walked out of the mall with at least one or two bags in a hand. But it wasn’t a long walk from the mall to your home so it wasn’t that bad.

While walking, they had all offered to hold your bags but you refused, replying with “I’m fine it’s not that heavy” or “it’s okay really, my hands don’t hurt at all.” And honestly, they just wanted to help you and make sure you go about your day not having to hold anything or put it in the energy.

I mean of course being a dependent person is where it’s at but, they just want to prove to you that they were a strong and capable man. But you already knew that.

Unlocking the door, you twisted the door knob and pushed the door open with your arm. “We’re home~ did you guys have fun?”

You asked, leaving the door open for Zhongli, Kaeya, Neuvillette and Ayato to come in. After closing the door you locked it again and made your way to the kitchen, placing the bags down on the counter with them mirroring your actions—placing the bags on the kitchen counter.

Venti, Heizou, Kaveh, Childe, Itto and Gorou sprung up from the floor, as if they were anticipating your come back. “Y/n!! You’re back, what took you so long?” Itto asked, running up to you and engulfing you in a warm and tight embrace.

You were somewhat suffocating, although you couldn’t really complain because your head was in between his man-boobs. What a dream..

Ayato placed his hand on Itto’s arm and smiled menacingly at him. “You’re suffocating Y/n, you know?” Itto immediately looked at you and you smiled sheepishly up at him.

“Awh.. we’ll okay then..” Itto pouts and lets you go reluctantly, you heaved a great sigh and thanked Itto. “Sorry for leaving you guys for so long, we had to buy many things. Oh and we bought sushi and other stuff to eat for dinner!”

A collective hum, and “yum!”’s could be heard from everyone, some started to get up and move to the kitchen, taking a peek inside the bags or just grabbing whatever was inside and taking a closer look at everything.

While everyone was doing their thing, you took your shoes off and began to walk to your room to go get your clothes and shower.

“Nothing happened right? Nothing broke nor any fight broke out..?” You asked, peeping out of your room and eyeing everyone.

It was silent.

Venti, Dainsleif and Cyno and everybody side-eyed Childe and Wanderer to which Wanderer scowled at. “What are you guys looking at?!” Cyno rolled his eyes and replied with a quiet “nothing”.

It was obvious some fight did break out but they didn’t dare ruin your place so they didn’t throw any hands (because Dainsleif, Al-haitham, Capitano, Kazuha and Pantalone wereholding them back).

Sighing, you grabbed your pajamas and entered your bathroom, stepped inside and locked the door and began to take a shower and just relax.

And relax you did. The hot water hitting and running down your hair, back and chest immediately relaxed your muscles, this is definitely what you needed after walking all day surrounded by people in the mall.

After giving your non existent crowd a spectacular performance and concert, you finished up your shower and dried yourself and pat your hair dry—putting on your pajamas before leaving the bathroom and exiting the room with a small towel wrapped around your hair (head?? You were going to let it air dry and dry it later).

The smell of fresh sushi filled your nose as you walked into the living room. You could see Kaeya, Lyney, Venti and Xiao sitting down at the kitchen counter—plates filled with sushi on them in front of them.

In fact, you could see everybody already eating and enjoying their sushis, smiling at the scene before you, “eating without me already?” You joked, seating yourself down beside the coffee table where a plate with sushi on it laid in front of you.

“We wanted to wait for you but some people just couldn’t wait..” Cyno sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The ones who already began to eat froze. Dropping the sushi in their mouth and placing their fork down. “Y/n- I swear I didn’t mean to but-“ “what? It was just a joke.. did you think I would be mad at you guys for eating without me?”

Itto nod his head and looked guilty. “Oh.. well I’m not mad okay!! I understand if you can’t resist the hunger” you laughed, popping a sushi in your mouth and chewing on it.

“Mhm!! Sho shgood! Eat you guys!!” You said with food stuffed in your mouth—shielding your mouth with your hand.

They nod their heads and began to eat their own sushi, also moaning from the taste and enjoying it as much as you did.

Thankfully you bought more, as some started to ask for seconds. Once you were full you laid back on the couch, watching a few continued to eat more sushi.

“Full? So am I.. it was certainly delicious Y/n! Thank you so much for everything..”

The sudden voice of Albedo snapped you out of your trance, you smiled softly and shook your head. “It’s nothing Albedo, I’m sure it must be hard to be away from home..” you frowned.

Albedo hummed. “I guess so but, being with you is much better.”

His words made you feel things, warmth spreading across your body and cheeks. “Oh- well, that’s something.” You chuckled nervously, looking down to avoid his gaze.

Looking back up, your gaze wandered off to the clock. 5 pm. Still early, you thought. While thinking of what you all could possibly do, a sudden thought pops up in your mind.

UNO. A simple but fun card game that is somewhat similar to TCG so it should bring some comfort to them. Not only that but… it could maybe bond you all closer?

“Hey, how about we play some UNO after everyone is done eating? It’s pretty easy I can explain everything to you guys.”

Albedo smiles, “that sounds lovely.” And so after everyone had finished eating their sushi, you grabbed the pack of UNO cards and sat everybody down in your living room. Honestly, how was everybody going to sit in one giant circle and reach to place their cards down? Seems like you would all have to be throwing them in the middle.

“Okay so, we are going to include stack here alright? Stack is when you stack the cards that have the same number — despite different colours — or pluses — when you make the next person get two or four cards —, reverses and skips.”

After explaining the rules, everybody got the grasp of the game and began to play. At first it was confusing, but soon after they got the hang of it it became competitive, only because Kaveh, Wanderer, Childe, Itto, Kaeya and Pantalone made it competitive.

After a few rounds the winner was announced. But the thing was, it was tied between Cyno and Al-haitham.

“Ugh, every time I play TCG with them they always seem to win or tie!” Kaveh groans, clutching onto his wild cards. “I will win one day!”

Al-haitham sighs, putting down his cards. “You’ve said that a million times now, when will it really happen?”

But there seemed to be a few people who were not willing to lose of the grand scribe.. (Childe.) and demanded for another round but by now it was 6 and the sun was setting.

Wanting to use the time to bond, you (again) decided to watch movies with them. As it seemed last time they really enjoyed it.

When you suggested the idea of watching another movie, an immediate “yes please!” Was heard from many. Switching off the light switch, darkness soon enveloped the room with only the light of the TV illuminating onto everybody in front of it.

You seat yourself down on the floor this time beside Ayato and Xiao (much to everyone’s dismay, they wanted to sit next to you.. sigh..)

After snuggling beside them and tucked yourself into the blankets, you had already began to chew on your popcorn. “Don’t you think you should save those for when the movie really starts, Y/n?” Ayato chuckled, patting your hand to stop you for eating.

You blushed and nod your head. “Mhm, okay.”

And again, the whole movie was a roller coaster. You, Kaveh and Freminet were left in tears, you were a total mess from the middle of the movie to the end. The plot twists and emotional scenes made you bawl your eyes out.

“Tissues, Y/n.” Xiao said, offering you a box of tissues as he watches you cry your eyes out. He then found his palm against your cheek as he wiped your tears with this thumb.

“Remember what you told us Y/n, this is all fake and not real, try not to cry so much, your eyes will get red and puffy.”

You sniffled and pat your eyes dry and blew your nose. “Mhm, y-you’re right Xiao.. thanks.” You softly said, giving him a tiny smile, and that was enough to make his heart explode.

During the movie, you began to feel sleepy. With how warm you were, how the room was dark, with the soft glow coming from the TV and illuminating on your face made you all the more drowsy.

You fought to stay awake, wanting to finish the movie to the end and then sleep but your heavy eyelids said otherwise, because soon you were knocked out cold, and if not for the soft snores escaping your lips, they wouldn’t even have noticed until the end of the movie.

Ayato could hear your soft snores and turned to look at you, smiling at your sleeping face before gazing at the clock, 7 pm. You normally didn’t sleep at that time but considering you were already asleep, Ayato decided to put you to bed anyway.

Slowly getting up from his spot, he removed the blanket from your body and carefully wrapped his arms around your back and legs, hoisting you up into his arms—carrying you bridal style.

The others turned and looked at you before looking at your sleeping figure in his arms. “Y/n’s already sleeping already?” Tighnari whispers, eyes focused on you, the answer was clear but he asked anyway. Ayato nodded.

“I’ll be taking her to bed, if anyone wants to go sleep early with them I suggest you go now.” Ayato states before turning around and walking off to your room.

He could hear people hastily getting up and scrambling to be the first in your room. Ayato could only sigh before setting you down onto your bed and covering you with your blanket, tucking you in.

Cute, I’m going to be the one sleeping with you tonight.

Ayato checks to make sure you’re looking comfortable before walking to your bathroom, grabbing one of the toothbrushes (that you had opened for everyone and write their names on it) and applied the toothpaste before beginning to brush his teeth.

He could hear the others whisper-yelling over who was sleeping with you this night, Ayato would make sure to scold them later for arguing in your presence later.

After finishing brushing his teeth, he walked back into your bathroom and made his way through the people fighting to sleep next to you.

He slipped inside your covers and made himself comfortable. When he opened his eyes, everyone was staring at him in confusion and anger.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sleeping with Y/n of course, what else?”

“Ugh I’m gonna kill yo-!”

“Sh! Y/n’s sleeping, remember?” Ayato shushes them, pointing at your peacefully sleeping figure. Your face buried softly pressed against his waist.

The others groan at yet another fail of fighting to sleep with you and glared at Ayato who ordered them to go brush their teeth.

But even as they complained they obliged and walked one by one into the bathroom and brushed their teeth.

Soon, after a few minutes everyone from the living room walked into your bedroom and was immediately ordered by Ayato to go brush their teeth, all the while their eyes almost popped out of their sockets after seeing you sleeping beside Ayato.

“Also, I’m going to be choosing who else will be sleeping beside Y/n.” Ayato states, yawning. “Why you? Who decided you could?” Wanderer asked while scowling at Ayato in distaste.

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just for one night, don’t worry Wanderer.”

Ayato then chose Kazuha to be the one to sleep beside you, he wasn’t as big as Itto so he couldn’t suffocate you and seemed like a peaceful sleeper. He also didn’t snore like Itto.

Kazuha thanked Ayato and took off some of his clothes and changed into a plain white tee and shorts, it was.. definitely something.

He soon climbed into bed with you and laid beside you to your right, sighing in content. You were so warm..

The others began to settle themselves on the mattresses while the other walked out of your bedroom and into the guest bedroom, knowing that they would probably be sleeping there for a while until you picked them to be in your bed (or if something like this that happened between you and Ayato, to happen to them)

Dainsleif reached to the ceiling and turned on the fan, knowing that you liked to sleep with some background noise. Then, Venti, who was the closest to the light switch flicked the switch down, the room went dark.

They could finally peacefully sleep in the darkness of the room with the sounds of your soft snores and also because Itto was not in the room meaning no loud snores that would keep them up!!

“Anyone still awake?” Kaveh softly asked, waiting for a response. “Mhm.” Al-haitham, Dainsleif, Gorou, Wriothesley and Baizhu answered.

“A serious question, what do you guys think about Y/n’s world and house and everything? Do you guys like it here?”

There was a long, silent and deafening pause. Then an answer.

“Honestly, I really don’t mind being anywhere as long as our grace- I mean Y/n is with me, although I do miss teyvat and my home I also find Y/n’s house comforting and calm. Plus, I don’t have to fight any monsters.”

The remaining people that were still awake hummed and thought about Gorou’s response. It wasn’t false.

“Mhm, I agree, as long as I’m with Y/n I don’t care about where we are, even though we just met a few days ago, I feel so drawn to them. I don’t ever want to leave them.” Dainsleif chimes in, letting out a sigh.

“Agreed.”

note: RAGHHHHHHHHHH IM ENJOYING THESE SERIES SO MUCH EJSNSKSJSJSJS I HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED THIS 🫶🏻

Took me longer than expected I’m sorry 😢

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @hex-vx @saltylovetale @backintomykpopphaseagain @toramune @oreo-ren @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @amaizverydum @lovelive-animequeen1029 @roseapov @yuraasia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealamp @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanisty @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-sh @merormerry

(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter!)

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[bananayuyu]

Cabin Fever [part 3]

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: fluff and smut (and some angst this chapter)

Word count: 12.2k

Summary: A confrontation, a fainting spell, a jealous Yunho and a weirdly pissy Hongjoong. The morning gets off to a rough start but somehow the day couldn't have ended more perfectly.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, mentions of Hongjoong's family being homophobic/transphobic, vaginal sex, cream pie, unprotected sex (it's safe, you'll see)

A/n: Part 3 is finally here! The biggest shoutout in the world to @mingtinysworld, my absolute bestie (I love you so much!!<3). I must give her credit for coming up with several of the things that happen in this chapter. Things get a bit more angsty this chapter but I hope not too much. (Also I refer to Wooyoung as both bisexual and a slut in this chapter but want to clarify that I'm not trying to play into that stereotype!! it's just two things that felt fitting for the character in this story. bi people are no more or less likely to be slutty than anyone else). this chapter took longer than I expected to finish because I've finally mapped out what I want to do for the rest of the series! I hope you all enjoy this part! <3

Linked here is my masterlist where you can find the previous parts. Again let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! (it will be six parts in total if everything goes to plan)

Taglist: @certifiedmoa @pautiny27 @luvbit3z @dawn-iscozy @artistic-rendition

@yeosangiess @drinkingrumandcocacola @smally97 @kierraperkins3 @newworldwritings

@peachyy-jooniee @lucid-galaxys-world

You wake like your first morning in the cabin to the bright hot sun, the storm having moved out of the area overnight. You feel too warm laying in your bed with Yunho wrapped around you; you look down and see you both kicked off your blanket at some point in the night. You roll over to wriggle free, your skin feeling sticky with sweat and your hair feeling matted and knotty. You know the reflection you'll be greeted with in the mirror will be quite a mess.

"Morning," Yunho yawns, stretching his arms above his head, his bare abdomen looking so enticing even first thing in the morning.

"I'm so sweaty," you laugh, yawning as well.

"I know, me too," he says, turning his head to the side to get a whiff of his own underarm. "Oh, god," he says, making you giggle. Leaning over to get a whiff yourself, you stick your nose right into the small patch of hair.

"Mmm, so good," you say, a smile on your face. "I need to bottle that scent."

"What would you call it?" Yunho chuckles, pulling you close to him despite the heat.

"Hmm, something like, tall man with large hands." You laugh at how dumb and simple your response is.

"Mm, with notes of sex god and a handsome face," Yunho replies, a cocky grin on his face. You roll your eyes, but truthfully deep down you find it kind of hot when he gets that way.

"No, with notes of gamer nerd and 'never eats vegetables' actually," you say, teasing him. He reaches down to your side to tickle you, making you shriek with laughter, before climbing on top of you and kissing you, deeply. Immediately it's heated, like he's trying to remind you of everything from the night before, his hips bucking into yours slightly and the pressure on your core feeling so enticingly good.

With a ragged breath you break the kiss, your head feeling fuzzy.

"I'm too hot," you say, half-heartedly pushing him off you, not really wanting it to stop.

"Yeah, I know," Yunho says, his tone again cocky, his mouth moving down to your neck and hands grabbing at your ass and thighs. You giggle and sigh into his movements, feeling yourself already getting wet, your body already craving him. But you also feel so out of it and hungry, and you think of everyone else up and about; Seonghwa will probably be worried again if you stay in here too long.

"Yunhooo," you whine, pushing him off with a little more force, and he relents, kissing your nose as he moves off of you.

"I wanna eat you," he says, his face flushed with lust. You squeal and cover your face in embarrassment; no one has ever said something like that to you in your life. Yunho smiles at your reaction, absolutely loving the effect he has on you. Whenever he makes you smile, laugh, moan, it makes his chest feel full, like he's doing exactly what he's meant to do with his life.

Finally the two of you stumble out of bed, and you rake your fingers through your hair, trying your best to smooth it out. Your hairbrush is in the bathroom and you feel like you could really use a shower, so you decide you'll do that first thing this morning, right after getting some food in you. The two of you head out the door together, not thinking much, Yunho's hoodie the only article of clothing you have on. You rub your tired eyes, your body still feeling weak, but your cramps not present like they had been. You feel ready for the day, hopeful that your body will finally feel okay.

As soon as you enter the living room, you notice everyone's eyes on you. You halt in your tracks; everyone is acting strange and you can sense a bit of tension in the room immediately.

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice a bit groggy, your brain still not totally awake. The room is silent for a moment; you feel Yunho's hand on your shoulder grip you ever so slightly.

"I think everyone needs to talk to you both," Seonghwa says, finally breaking the silence. You turn in his direction, confusion clear on your face. It wasn't like last year when Hongjoong and Seonghwa hooked up, everyone confronted them about it. You knew it was probably pretty obvious what was happening, but you didn't think everyone needed an explanation. Not right now, at least. You turned towards Ari, looking at her with concern.

"I don't have anything I need to say," she says to the room, clearly trying to communicate to you that she didn't share anything, nor does she see the need for this. Her eyes almost seem to be pleading with everyone, to drop the subject, or maybe she just looks worried. Whatever it is, her look sets you on edge, and you step away from Yunho without realizing it, your body instinctually trying to isolate itself.

"Can I not get something to eat first? What is going on?" you ask, trying not to panic. Again everyone is silent for a second, and some of their faces look stony; you're worried that there isn't something you're understanding. "Fucking hell, just say it, please," you beg.

"Did you realize how loud you two were being last night?" Hongjoong finally spits out, making your stomach drop.

"Oh, fuck," you groan into your hands, wishing the floor could open up and sallow you whole.

"Woah, woah. Why the hell are you saying this in front of everyone?" Yunho responds to him, not doing a good job of controlling the anger in his tone.

"Because everyone heard you last night, not just me," Hongjoong shoots back, clearly pissed at Yunho's tone.

"Ari just said she has nothing to say about this," Yunho retorts, his eyes narrowing.

"Okay let me clarify then, every one of us who has to sleep out here on these couches, while the two of you get a private space all to yourselves, we all heard you guys last night." Hongjoong's volume is rising, and you don't know why he's so pissed. But you feel mortified, so shocked this conversation is even happening. "I know it is possible to hook up in this cabin without making everyone hear it," he says.

You've physically turned yourself away from the room, wanting to inch your way into the kitchen but feeling stuck to the floor.

"This is so ridiculous, why are you acting like you've never heard people having sex before? It couldn't have been that fucking loud," Yunho sighs loudly, shocked himself that any one of your friends would even care. You all were very, very comfortable around each other. He knew Hongjoong was one of the more modest of the bunch, but still. He was fucking Seonghwa out in the middle of the forest last night, for god's sake.

"It was, pretty loud," Mingi sighs, his voice much calmer and quieter than Hongjoong's but still laced with tension, as if he's trying to bring the conversation back to normal. "Like someone was watching porn on their phone at full volume, or something." He laughs, obviously trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work.

"Oh god, please, stop," you finally find words, running to the kitchen. Ari jumps up and runs after you, wrapping her arms around you as you bury your head into your hands even further.

"Don't say shit like that right now, it's not funny," Yunho says, his face flushed with anger.

"Sorry I was just trying to- I don't know why this got so weird," Mingi replies, stumbling over his words. "I just thought you guys would want to know how audible it was."

"Listen, I'm fucking sorry. I obviously didn't realize, I obviously wasn't wanting you all to hear," you say from the kitchen, shaking with how embarrassed you feel. Ari rubs your back, trying to comfort you.

"Look at how awful you've made her feel. Do you guys feel good about that?" Yunho spits out, his words fiery. Something in you shatters at how protective he's being, and you suddenly gag with nausea, running over to the sink.

"Yunho, no one is trying to hurt her feelings," Seonghwa replies, trying in desperation to keep the conversation from spiraling into a full blown fight.

"What are you trying to do then?" Yunho asks, eyes scanning around the room to catch a glimpse of everyone's faces.

"I think what everyone was trying to say, though they didn't do a very good job I will admit, was that you two being so loud last night made them a bit uncomfortable and made it hard to sleep. And-"

"It made me horny, that's why I couldn't sleep," Wooyoung cuts him off.

"For fucks sake Woo, not now," Seonghwa replies, still managing to keep his tone light. "I think everyone really just wanted to ask you two if you could keep it down going forward. That's all," he finishes, shooting a look in Hongjoong's direction that seemed to say a million things.

"And that couldn't have been said to me privately, by like, one person?" you ask from the kitchen, trying to keep your body from releasing all of yesterday's food.

"I'm sorry honey, everyone was talking about it this morning and I thought it would be better for it just to be out in the open," Seonghwa says to you, like he's taking responsibility for it.

"Everyone was talking about it, how great," you reply, your tone laced with sarcasm.

"You all are being so fucking immature," Yunho continues, his anger still evident.

"Yunho, it's not like we were all giggling about it like twelve years olds or something. But you guys were having loud sex, you really expect that none of us would to mention it to each other this morning?" Wooyoung replies. "My cousins are here, and they don't really know you guys like we do, you know?"

"I get that Woo, and I'm sorry Jongho and Yeosang if it made you guys uncomfortable," he says, looking sincerely in their direction. "But again, why did you all have to confront us like this first thing in the morning?! When you know how awful she's been feeling! This whole conversation did not have to happen this way at all!" He is almost yelling, more worked up than you've seen him in a long time. You feel thankful he's standing up for you, as it seems he's the only man in the room who understands how mortified you feel. But his raised voice and tone are starting to set everyone on edge, you can feel it, and you really, really don't want this conversation to get even worse.

"I'm going to bathroom," you mutter, quickly walking yourself over and closing the door tightly behind you. In the mirror over the sink you finally get a good look at yourself, your messy appearance matching exactly how you feel on the inside. You hair is as knotty as you thought it would be, and you start trying to brush it out, wincing every time you tug a little too hard. You feel yourself start to heave again, so you lean down over the toilet in case anything comes up. The smallest amount of puke leaves your lips and you grimace at the bitter taste, quickly shuffling over to the sink to rinse out your mouth. Sat on your knees on the floor you breath deeply, the nausea having passed now that you're in a room by yourself, blocking out the argument happening outside. You're just starting to think you're feeling better, about to stand up, when everything goes black.

For a brief moment you feel yourself crumple to the floor, the tile cold against your uncovered legs. But then you're fully gone, not hearing or knowing anything.

"Y/n, can you hear me? Are you here?"

You wake to Yunho crouched over you, a hand on your wrist checking your pulse. Your eyes barely open, the light of the room making your head hurt. You try to say something to him but you can't; only a pathetic whimper leaves your lips as you try to wake yourself.

"I'm here," he says, stroking a hand through your hair and rubbing the back of your head where it meets your neck. You've told him many times that it feels good to be rubbed there, especially when you've just fainted, so now he makes sure he does it every time. He sits with you in silence, just like you've asked him to, waiting for your body to fully regain consciousness. It takes a little while but finally you move, opening your eyes more to meet his, curling up your body in his direction.

"How'd it happen?" he asks.

"I like, puked, and then I felt better, but then I ended up here, I don't know," you say, trying to remember everything that had happened before your memory cut out.

"So you were standing?" he asks, very concerned.

"No I was like, on my knees cause of leaning over the toilet to puke. I just closed my eyes to breathe for a second and then I collapsed."

"Did you hit your head?"

"I don't think so," you respond, looking up at him with teary eyes. He looks down and assesses your pupils, pretty sure they look normal in the light of the bathroom. He runs a hand through your hair, trying to keep his breathing normal. But his heart is racing out of control, his panic not subsiding. Not when he found you collapsed in a heap on the floor, minutes after he finished arguing with everyone else. A piercing anger runs through his chest, anger at how everyone acted this morning. It must have made you unbelievably stressed, being called out like that and humiliated in front of everyone. It's probably the reason you're here on the floor now, why your body just gave out on you. His breathing is ragged as he stares at you, as much as he tries to appear calm for your sake. It just can't happen right now, not after everything that happened this morning.

"Yunho, I'll be fine," you say, putting a hand on his thigh.

"I know," he responds, his throat tense, his eyes looking panicked.

"You're scaring me," you tell him, tears forming in your eyes.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. With everything that just happened I was so caught off guard finding you here. I'm so worried about you," he says, tears forming in his eyes as well.

"It'll be okay, I just need to rest," you say, repeating something you've said probably thousands of times in your life, to people around you when you're sick. How common it was for other people to be even more panicked than you, when you were the one actually experiencing the issue. Yunho can read the frustration in your tone easily, and it feels like a stab in his chest knowing that he isn't helping you how he knows he should.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he says, collecting himself and stroking the back of your head again, hoping it's comforting. "Do you want me to carry you to your bed?" he asks.

"Can you please go get Hwa," you ask, not able to hide your frustration with him.

"Of course," he says, sounding almost defeated, and even though you asked for it, it hurts when he moves away from you to go get your other friend. In the few moments that you're alone again you start crying, tears streaming down onto the floor, your body finally starting to release some of it's tension.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry I didn't realize you had passed out," Seonghwa says as soon as he enters, leaning down to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

"It's okay," you squeak, still crying.

"Why don't I get you to a couch so you can rest more comfortably?" he asks, stroking a hand through your hair. "I can brush out your hair too, if you want."

"It's so bad," you say, groaning.

"Not at all," he says, positioning you to hoist you up, finally standing and walking carefully so he doesn't hit any part of you on the doorframe.

As soon as you exit the bathroom you can hear the arguing, and it makes you grab your ears, wishing you could silence everyone.

"You realize that wouldn't have happened if you didn't talk to her like assholes this morning, right?!" you hear Yunho say, again on the verge of yelling.

"How was I supposed to know she was going to faint!?" Hongjoong retorts, sounding exasperated. "I obviously didn't want that to happen Yunho, Jesus Christ!"

"Dude, you know how fragile her body is! And that she's been feeling terribly the past few days; you probably could have predicted this would be the outcome, honestly," Yunho says, refusing to back down.

"Yunho that's a crazy thing to say," Mingi interjects, sounding almost scared to speak up. "Obviously none of us wanted to cause her to faint."

"Frankly, the way things sounded last night it seemed like she was feeling better," Hongjoong interjects, still on edge.

"Stop mentioning it, it's been talked about enough," Yunho snaps, his voice lower but his anger still obviously at a boiling point. The look he shoots Hongjoong is stern, scarier than he realizes.

"You're the one who came in here yelling," Hongjoong responds, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm not yelling. I'm pissed at you all because you made her faint," Yunho says, voice still low.

"Will you all please get off of this couch so I can set y/n down?" Seonghwa cuts them off, taking in a slow deep breath. He sets you down gently, placing several pillows behind your back and head to prop you up, grabbing his glass of water from the morning and making you drink some. When Yunho sees the absolute state you are in his anger spikes again; he's seen you like this quite a few times, but never under these circumstances. You'd always been home, close to the local hospital, in your predictable environment. Here it was different, especially with so many people around. He feels utterly out of his depth, but something in him still needs to care for you.

Sitting down next to you he grabs your hand, brushing his thumb along your palm in small circular motions. He wants to apologize a thousand times over, wants to scream at everyone else, especially Hongjoong, and wants to ask how you're feeling. But he doesn't know if any of that is the right thing to do. He suddenly feels a pang of jealousy, at seeing the way Seonghwa methodically takes care of you, seeming to know exactly what to say and what to do, in every moment.

"Yunho, you're freaking her out," Seonghwa says, moving over to help you drink more water. He takes your hand out of Yunho's, helping you grip the glass, making sure you don't spill on yourself. "If you can't keep calm right now then you need to leave the room."

"How- how am I supposed to keep calm right now?" Yunho asks, his voice shaking.

"I don't know, do whatever helps you. You know, for some people breathing calmly helps, others visualize certain things, others need to cry for a bit, maybe go for a quick run. Whatever works for you," Seonghwa says, feeling frustrated with Yunho but not letting it show.

"I don't want to leave her," Yunho says.

"She'll be perfectly fine in my care, don't you think?" Seonghwa responds, trying not to sound patronizing. Trying really to get Yunho to realize himself that he should take a step back, and give you space. He can tell it's not doing you any good, the way Yunho is acting. Even if it's coming from a good place.

"I don't want all of them near her," Yunho says, gesturing his head in the direction of the other boys.

"It's not like they're going to hurt her Yunho," Seonghwa replies, still helping you sip at your water. Yunho looks at Seonghwa, wanting to believe him. Logically he knows it's true, but he really does worry that something one of them says could make you faint again.

"God I'm so fucking pissed," Yunho sighs out, putting his head in his hands.

"Yunho, stop," you say, your voice almost a whisper as you try not to start crying again.

"Ok, that's it, you need to get out of here," Seonghwa finally says to Yunho, placing his hand on his knee to get his full attention. Yunho shoots him a hurt look, feeling a bit caught off guard. Seonghwa's never told him something like this before, when you were sick. Usually he appreciated having another person there to help. He slowly stands up, walking towards the kitchen to get away.

"Dude, lighten up," Mingi says, slapping Yunho gently on the back in a gesture of attempted kindness. But it doesn't go over how he's hoping.

"Dude, shut the fuck up," Yunho says, making you cringe into yourself. It really does feel like he's coming apart at the seams, and it makes you feel so panicked.

"Alright, fuck, everyone listen to me," Seonghwa says, standing up to face the room. "Look I really don't like having to do this, having to treat you all like you're fucking children, but clearly all of you don't understand how to emotionally take care of yourselves, and your dramatics are making our very sick friend feel even worse. So here's what we're going to do. All of you boys are going to go outside, and finish that game of basketball we started yesterday. With the exception of Wooyoung, because I need you and Ari to stay in and assist me. The rest of you please, go outside and work out your fucking differences on that court, and come back inside in much better spirits and aware of your fucking impact on other people. Okay?" He finishes talking with an expectant look, and everyone knows he won't take no for an answer. Soon they're all shuffling outside, and once they're all gone and the back door is shut, you immediately feel a bit better. The energy of the room is immediately lighter, and you take a big sigh of relief, readjusting yourself to get comfortable.

"Thank you Hwa," you say, finishing the glass of water in your hands.

"Of course. I'm sorry they were all acting like that, I hope I didn't stress you out too," he responds, his voice so gentle again.

"I don't even think that's why I fainted, I know Yunho kept saying that but it's probably just cause my period was so bad. I feel like that's a more logical explanation," you say, the quieter room allowing your brain to finally work a bit more.

"I know, I agree. I've never seen him so scared," Seonghwa says, rubbing his hand along your arm.

"Me too, it was freaking me out," you say, turning to look him in the eye. "Just so you know, we aren't like dating or something. This whole, thing, between me and Yunho, it just started on this trip. And I don't even know what it is. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you about it yesterday." It feels good to finally get the words out.

"You don't have to apologize. I was pretty sure nothing had happened before, cause I know you would've told me. Believe me, I know the affects this cabin can have on people," he chuckles, making you smile. "By the way, I'm sorry for how Hongjoong was talking to you earlier, genuinely. I don't think it's wrong for him to feel uncomfortable, if that's really what the issue was, but he was being kind of an asshole." Seonghwa looks crestfallen, like he's embarrassed to be apologizing on behalf of Hongjoong.

"You don't have to apologize for him, Hwa. Just because you two are kind of, involved or whatever, doesn't mean you need to do that." Seonghwa nods his head at your words, but his face doesn't change, and it looks like he's lost in thought. "What's going on, why does your face look like that?" you ask.

"Just, I don't know why he was being like that with you two, everyone was talking about it in a funny way this morning. I guess he was being weird all morning, even before you guys came out here. I'll tell you in a minute, just, hold on." He turns his attention to the other two sitting on the couch across, giving you space. "Wooyoung can you please make some quick soup for y/n, something salty with meat and vegetables. And also some chamomile tea please, with a teaspoon of honey?"

"Of course, coming right up," Wooyoung says, climbing off the couch. "Y/n I'm sorry about this morning, I thought it would be just a little joke. I didn't realize it would get so, serious," he says as he crosses the room.

"Thank you, Woo. I'm sorry if your cousins felt weird," you reply, them truly being the people you worried you'd crossed a line with. The rest of you had heard the odd sound or two and talked about sex at length over the years you'd known each other, but those two didn't know you at all.

"Oh, I don't really think they cared, we were all laughing about it last night. I just, I was a little surprised Yunho was so pissed that we were talking about it. I hope- I hope you know we weren't being weird or gross," he replies.

"I know, it is just a bit mortifying though, you have to understand," you say.

"I know, I'm sorry. We will forget it even happened, we'll have a fun day," Woo says, starting to work on your tea, raising his voice so he can be heard from the kitchen. "What do you want to do, after you eat?" he asks.

"Y/n, you wanna put makeup on them? We haven't done that in forever," Ari pipes up from the other couch, her voice also gentle like Seonghwa's.

"Ooh, that actually sounds so fun. If you both are down?" you ask Seonghwa and Wooyoung, giving Seonghwa your best puppy-dog eyes.

"How could I say no," Seonghwa replies, smiling.

"That sounds fun!" Wooyoung replies from the kitchen, busily readying your tea and prepping for cooking.

"That'll be good," you say, breathing in the relief of their good, calm company. "Thank you guys for being, like, normal this morning."

***

After you drink your tea and eat your breakfast, you start to feel a little better. You're clearly still in a weak state, needing to stay sat on the couch, but you have the energy to talk with everyone. Ari had gone and grabbed her large makeup bag from her room, setting out everything methodically on the large coffee table. Everything is organized by product type, and you both begin looking over everything, deciding what you'll be doing.

"Woo, can I put eyeliner on you?" Ari asks.

"Sure, do whatever," Wooyoung responds, honestly just loving the attention. He's always loved when you two would do his makeup, just for the simple fact that he got to spend so much time having someone else fret over him.

"I'm gonna make you look so cool," Ari says, grabbing the shade of foundation she was going to use, and the eyeliner and black eye shadow.

"Okay well if you're doing that, I'm gonna make Hwa like, super feminine, pretty, pink," you say, grabbing your favorite highlighter and the shade of pink lip gloss you think will look perfect on him. "Wait, can I do your hair too?" you ask Hwa.

"What are you going to do?" he asks you. You know he's very protective of his hair, especially since he's been growing it out so long this past year.

"I just want to put it in pigtails or something, not use any heat on it," you say.

"Okay, that's fine," he says, positioning himself in front of you so you can start applying the makeup.

As you both begin the room falls into a comfortable quietness, with only a few words being exchanged here or there. Mostly it's just you and Ari asking each other how a certain thing looks, or asking each other for advice. Having something to focus on that is purely fun, purely creative helps get your mind off your terrible morning, and soon you feel yourself really start to feel better. A little while later one of the boys pokes their head in asking about lunch, but Seonghwa makes them stay outside, asking Wooyoung to whip together something quick and just bring it out to them. He wants to prolong this gentle calm atmosphere for as long as he can, so that you can truly rest up and feel better. And he himself feels relieved from not having to be in the same room as Hongjoong.

"Wait, you were going to tell me something about Hongjoong," you say to him as you gently apply his highlight.

"Oh, yeah, that," Seonghwa sighs.

"What is it?" you ask, looking at him with concern.

"He's just been really distant and cold, all morning. And yesterday things were like, so good, we were having all these conversations, we talked about some very personal things. Each night he's been cuddling me to sleep, like specifically asking me to come cuddle with him. I didn't expect that sort of thing when we came here, but he's been so touchy and so sweet, and then suddenly this morning he was like avoiding me, not sitting next to me, not talking to me. And he was being so weird talking with Yunho this morning too, both of them were in such weird moods. I don't know what to think. I shouldn't like someone who is hot and cold with me, I know I shouldn't. But something, yesterday, there was something that happened that felt almost perfect and I can't get it out of my head."

"I don't like that he was being like that with you this morning," you sigh. "I don't get why he gets that way sometimes."

"It's cause of his family, right?" Ari asks, carefully starting to apply Wooyoung's eyeliner.

"I know they're insane and homophobic, but he's twenty-seven. Maybe I'm being unfair, but he's been independent from them for nearly a decade. And they don't even live in the same city as us anymore. I just feel upset that he hasn't worked on changing more. That was how he was in high school. And he knows all of us, especially Seonghwa, are going to love and respect him always. I know his defense mechanism with his family is to shut himself off from them, but why does he have to be that way with us still?" you say.

"He's clearly all messed up about something," Seonghwa replies, sighing. "I actually thought he'd changed a lot. You know last year after our trip, I was worried he'd be really awkward and avoid the subject with me, but when we spoke about what had happened between us he was very direct and open. He seemed like he was able to really talk about his feelings. So I thought he had finally changed."

"I'm sorry, my inability to keep things quiet last night might have contributed. I truly feel bad, I did not realize," you say.

"Your moans did not put him in a bad mood," Seonghwa laughed, grabbing your cheek reassuringly. "He was fine last night. It was a this morning thing. Who knows."

You nod, not really wanting to talk about it anymore. And it seems Seonghwa doesn't either, nor do the other two, because the subject is dropped. You finally put on the pink lip gloss, the final touch to your beautiful masterpiece. Seonghwa's full lips shine beautifully, his entire face perfection.

"You've got to do more makeup campaigns," you say, staring in awe.

"I know, that first one I did all those years ago was so fun," he says, reminiscing.

"Can I do your hair now?" you ask, giddy. Seonghwa turns himself around, grabbing two small hair ties off the table for you to use. Once you've placed the two hair ties just as you want them you turn him around, taking a look at the adorable pigtails.

"God, you look so good with your hair like that. You are like, the most androgynous person I've ever seen," you say, knowing it's a compliment he loves.

"Do I look pretty?" he asks, twirling for you.

"The prettiest," you say, smiling. Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. "Hwa, you should put on the sun dress I brought with me."

"You think it'll fit?" he asks.

"Oh yeah, it's like stretchy in the back. I think you've worn it before, it's that yellow one, with the pink flowers," you say. "It's in the bottom of my suitcase, if you want to go grab it."

Seonghwa never turns down an opportunity to wear your dresses or skirts, always having loved how he felt in them. As he goes to find your dress in the library you turn to Wooyoung and Ari, who are almost done themselves. Ari is putting the finishing touches on the smoky shadow that accompanies heavy eyeliner, the obvious star of the show.

"This is some of your best work," you say, amazed. A part of you is almost pissed that these two boys look way better in makeup than you do. But more than anything you feel lucky to have people so willing to let the two of you experiment.

"Do I look sexy?" Wooyoung asks, fluttering his eyes at the both of you. It's basically all he ever wants to be called, so you both giggle.

"Of course you do," Ari says, laughing at him.

Just then Seonghwa reenters the room, your dress the only piece of clothing he's now wearing.

"Stop, you look so freaking cute," you say, staring at him in awe.

"Hwa, you should start wearing your hair like that all the time. It looks so good," Ari adds.

"Woo, what do you think?" Seonghwa says, looking at him expectantly.

"Um well, sorry, but you look extremely fuckable," he says, making you all burst into laughter. "You look really pretty," he says, his cheeks looking a little pink even under his makeup.

"Oh, so you're horny again," Ari says, to more laughter.

"I can't help it, it feels like everyone in this damn cabin is fucking except for me," Wooyoung responds.

"You know, there are ways of relieving those pent up feelings yourself," you say, motioning to your hand.

"It's not the same," he grumbles, making you all giggle again.

"Woo it's barely been four days on this cabin trip, are you already that desperate to have sex with someone?" Seonghwa asks, coming to sit down next to you again.

"Oh god don't chastise him, it'll probably turn him on more," Ari says, smirking at Wooyoung. He visibly squirms in front of her, not able to sit still anymore with the current topic of conversation.

"Every friend group needs a bisexual, bratty slut I guess," Seonghwa says, and the room is erupting in laughter again, even from Wooyoung.

"I don't think I'm the only slut in this group," Wooyoung says, shooting you a look.

"Ok woah, I might be very sex positive but I am not a slut, Woo. I've slept with maybe one percent of the number of people you have," you respond, looking at him with mock exasperation.

"But y/n, being slutty is really just a state of mind, it's not about the actual number of people you've slept with. And it seems like a certain someone has turned you into one recently," he says, making your mouth fall open. "I'm not trying to be mean, I swear," he says in reaction to your face. "I'm just glad you two are finally fucking," he says with his full chest, making Seonghwa and Ari laugh hard.

"Ok, so, you're saying you've been wanting this to happen?" you say, laughing and holding out your hands in confusion.

"Well, that man certainly has wanted it to, and I thought maybe you did too, but I was starting to wonder if I was wrong. I was always fascinated, it was like my own little experiment, watching to see just how long two people who obviously found each other attractive would hold out. I was especially shocked that it didn't happen when you moved into together," he says, eyeing you with adoration more than anything, which helps you not feel so exposed by his words. "I know not everyone is as much of a horn dog as I am, but it's not like either of you are asexual, either. I knew it would happen someday," he finishes.

"How did like, everyone else know this was gonna happen before I did?" you ask, remembering Ari's insistence yesterday that he was in love with you, and also remembering Mingi's look in the hot spring your first night. Fuck, he knew too, you thought. Did everyone else know?

"You wouldn't be you if this had happened any other way," Seonghwa says, grabbing your hand.

"I know, I'm kind of oblivious," you say, turning towards him with a downturned smile.

"Only to how magnetic you are to certain people. You've never been able to tell when someone likes you," he says, squeezing your hand slightly. It makes you laugh because it's true, very true.

"My mind is usually elsewhere," you say, making him chuckle.

"I know," he says, and he truly means it. He knows all of the places your mind usually is, good and bad.

"What time is it?" you ask, feeling your stomach rumble.

"Should we let everyone back in?" Seonghwa asks.

"Yeah, I think they should be okay by now. And I'm hungry, I wanna have some dinner," you say. "I feel a lot better, thank you guys," you say giving them each a quick hug before settling yourself back down on the couch. "I think my period is basically over."

"Already? It's been like two days, right?" Ari asks.

"Yeah, sometimes if they're that heavy it's all over that quickly," you say.

"I'm glad it's over," Hwa says, before handing you another glass of water he'd just filled. You sip at it, watching as he walks to the back door to open it, his long lean legs looking gorgeous under your dress. "You all can come back in now, if you want," you hear him say.

As the boys slowly make their way back inside you see they're all sweaty, the sun hot and the air humid from the previous day's weather. Most of them do a bit of a double take at Seonghwa's appearance, and at Wooyoung's too.

"Looks like you all had fun in here," Yeosang says, smiling at Wooyoung.

"How was the game?" Woo asks him.

"It was good, felt good to run so hard. We won," he says, with a proud smile.

"Well you had Yunho and Mingi on your team, so it wasn't exactly fair," Woo responds, making Yeosang laugh.

The two tallest men are the last to reenter, their faces glistening in sweat, Yunho's eyes still looking the slightest bit sullen. A small part of your heart twinges, but you try to ignore it. You want this moment to be a fresh start from the morning, to help everyone back to the fun energy of the previous few days.

"Everyone, look, doesn't Seonghwa look so pretty?" you say, hoping everyone comes with you as you glide towards lighter subjects. "Here, come here, let me touch up your lip gloss Hwa."

He comes down and sits in front of you, and you gently brush the applicator over his lips, his face completely still just as you need it. From the kitchen Yunho watches, your hands on his face, your lips on his temple when you give him a small kiss. He does feel better after playing so hard, but instead of anger he now feels what must be envy; it feels like it's snaking up his back to his neck, threatening to choke him. He will never be Seonghwa, never be what Seonghwa is to you. It's a soul crushing realization.

"Ok, there," you say after giving Seonghwa a quick peck on the temple, careful not to mess up the makeup you spent hours on. "Give everyone a little walk," you say.

"Is that your dress?" Mingi asks him as he watches him walk, everyone cooing out their praises.

"No, it's y/n's," Seonghwa responds.

"Oh wow, it fits so well. It looks so good on you," Mingi says, matter of factly.

You gaze around the room, watching Seonghwa's face light up at everyone's praise, when suddenly your eyes land on Hongjoong. Stood in the corner of the room, nursing occasionally at his water bottle, he's unable to take his eyes off of Seonghwa, and it almost looks like he isn't blinking. His face is possibly the softest you've ever seen it, his eyes looking big and gentle and his eyebrows turned up every so slightly in the middle. He doesn't move a muscle but you can see his chest rising and falling, his body seeming almost unaware of anything. Except for the man standing in front of him in a pretty yellow dress.

Suddenly you're snapped back, to Seonghwa's first ever major photo shoot, the one you and most of your friends accompanied him to, to help him feel confident during such a big step in his career. He was only twenty-one then, only about a year into his modeling career. Thinking back now you all were babies, just getting your starts in the world, nowhere even close to finding your feet and knowing who you were. It was such a high profile magazine, and you couldn't have been more excited and hopeful for your friend, unbelievably honored that he asked you to come with him. Everyone had cleared their schedules to be there.

It was the first time you'd seen just how great Seonghwa looked in a dress, all dolled up. As much as he liked feminine clothes, he rarely wore them himself because he feared judgement. But this space was different; every model for that campaign was androgynous. You had never been in a room with so many people who didn't fit into the gender norms. You all waited patiently as Hwa went to change into his outfit for his photo shoot; the room was giant and full of little changing rooms, and you all lost him in the sea of people and chairs, clothes and makeup. Until he finally emerged.

That was the only other time you'd seen Hongjoong look like this. His eyes went so wide you thought they might pop out. He was frozen, truly frozen then, not a single thing in his hand for him to fiddle with. Then, like now, it seemed like he became utterly unaware of anything else in the room, except Seonghwa. He stood like that for a while, you don't remember how long exactly, but then abruptly excused himself.

This time you think it's about a full minute, a full sixty seconds of him staring, not moving an inch. And you can't stop staring too, at his face, trying to read what it all means. When he finally breaks his eyes away from Seonghwa he catches your gaze, and without a word makes for the door, walking himself back outside. You instantly stand up too, needing answers. As you exit the house you brush past Yunho, your eyes lingering for a moment on the way his shirt is stuck to his chest. You hear Ari telling Wooyoung to walk for everyone too, and when the boys complain that they're hungry you hear Woo tell them to make their own food for once. You head is full, so full of every possible feeling, as you break out into the hot air of the late afternoon. You spot Hongjoong sitting on a log in the distance, and march your way over.

"Can I talk to you?" you ask, not bothering to ask if you can sit.

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry about this morning," Hongjoong responds, looking caught out and overwhelmed.

"You don't seem like yourself today," you say, your voice almost stern. Normally you all let each other be, and normally you feel that's the best thing to do. But after the events of the morning, and your conversation with Seonghwa, you don't feel that way right now.

"Well, I don't feel like myself. I guess I haven't done a good job of hiding it," he says, sighing tensely.

"What's up?" you ask, eyeing him with your arms crossed. He sighs, turning his face away from you, staring off into the trees. He starts shaking his head, not making a sound.

"Joong, I'm sorry, but after the way you were acting towards me and Yunho this morning I'm really not in the mood to be nice. I know you might not want to talk to me about your feelings but I need to know why you were being so weird with us, and with Seonghwa. We deserve to know," you say.

"What does Seonghwa have to do with it?" he asks, still not looking at you, fidgeting nervously with his hands.

"Ok, honestly, just forget me and Yunho, I don't even really care at this point. I know you were being cold with Seonghwa all day, why?" you ask.

"Y/n, I..." Hongjoong trails off, taking in a sharp breath, not continuing. You give him a few moments to continue his thought but he just sits there, making you antsy.

"Okay if you're not going to talk, then I'm gonna make a guess at what's going on, and you can tell me if I'm right or if I'm wrong. You love him, don't you? But you don't want to get involved with him in any real way because you're scared? Or you can't for some other reason? But when you're here you basically treat him like he's your boyfriend, cuddling him to sleep at night, sneaking him outside to fuck the daylights out of him while everyone else is in watching a movie. But it's not just a sex thing, you love him. You see him all dolled up and think he's the most precious thing you've ever seen in your life. Am I right?"

Hongjoong looks up at you finally, looking like he's scared, like he wishes he could run away. But he knows you won't let the subject drop, and maybe deep down, he's wanted to talk to someone about this.

"You have to understand, my family..." he starts, visibly shaking.

"What about them, Joong? What do they have to do with Seonghwa?" you ask gently, hoping to finally coax something out of him. With a huge breath, he finally starts talking.

"Do you remember that first big makeup campaign Hwa was a part of? For that gender neutral makeup line? Maybe a month later, I remember walking with my parents to that corner store by their old house, and there Seonghwa was on the cover of a magazine. My dad started going on and on about how gross it was, men making themselves look feminine, how they all were demeaning themselves and just wanted to be girls and how mentally ill they must be. He was saying it was gross that 'that kind of mental illness is now being treated like it's normal.' He kept going on and on and on, the whole time we shopped. He didn't even realize that one of the people on the cover was my good friend from high school that he'd met multiple times. He didn't even recognize it was Seonghwa." Hongjoong stutters out the words, clearly on the verge of breaking down.

"Oh my god Joong, that's awful," you respond, so saddened that he'd never felt able to tell you this story until now.

"I love you guys, but none of the rest of you understand what it's like to have parents like that. I've spent my whole life wishing I could stop these feelings. It would even be easier if I was attracted to masculine men; I think my parents could get past that a bit more easily. It's the gender stuff they're really freaked out by, more than people being gay. But I can't help that I like guys who are pretty. I- I obviously love him, dude, god I know it's fucking obvious. I can't control myself around him. It's fucking embarrassing. And it scares me, because I'm scared one day someone who knows my family is gonna see me reacting that way to another man and go tell my parents." By this point he's shaking hard, a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he clearly tries desperately to control himself. You scoot yourself over so you're right next to him, hugging him into a warm embrace.

"Let yourself cry, your body probably needs it," you say, holding him tight. You feel his heart race, his body so tense as he clings onto you. You just let him cry for a few minutes, not needing to respond right away. Once he's calmed down a bit you both sit up, but you stay close to him.

"I'm so, so sorry your family is that way, I can't even begin to pretend I know what it's like," you start, speaking gently. "Only you know what is best when it comes to navigating your relationships with them. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But if your choice is that you can't date Seonghwa, no matter your feelings, you need to tell him that. And explain it. If you want to hook up with him sometimes, but not date, you need to tell him that. If you want to date him but keep it entirely secret from your family, you need to tell him that. Obviously he might not like some or any of those ideas, but still you need to tell him. Right now he's just confused, and has no idea how you feel. And he's not the one who has been so awful to you, so he doesn't deserve to be kept in the dark."

"I know," Hongjoong replies, hoarsely. "I'm just, not ready for him to hate me."

"He's not going to hate you, Hongjoong," you say.

"Really? If I tell him, hey, I think you're amazing and I love you and want to be with you but can we keep it a secret from like, most people? Just in case my insane family finds out because I'm scared of them even though I'm twenty-seven years old. How awful would that make him feel?" he asks.

"Joong, if you put it like that with no explanation, yeah he'd probably not feel great. But if you told him what you just told me, I think it would be different. Keeping him in the dark is what's really not okay, and I think you being hot and cold with him is really what might make him hate you," you respond.

You both sigh deeply, looking out across the wilderness. You see a squirrel running across the start of a small trail up ahead, grabbing a nut and darting back again. You wish for a moment that was you. A butterfly flutters low in front of you, briefly landing on the ground and turning around, before flying off again. You feel heavy with emotional exhaustion and wish badly you could fly off, if only just for a moment. Just to have a chance to forget everything that had happened today, to feel free of any burden. You sigh with the knowledge that you know it's not possible, that you'll just have to feel it.

"Dinner is ready, if you want food!" Ari calls from the back door, waving at you.

"We'll be there in a minute," you call back.

***

Dinner brings the refreshed energy you were hoping for, Jongho and Yeosang having cooked up a meal everyone loved. As you all eat and chat there's plenty of laughter, still plenty of compliments for Seonghwa and Wooyoung's makeup. You sit between Seonghwa and Yunho, your favorite spot to be, feeling a lot better seeing everyone around you back to their light-hearted conversation. You see Hongjoong on the other side of Seonghwa, offering him food and bringing him refills of his drink when he needs it. It takes you a while to realize it amongst all the chattering, but the only person who is still being silent is Yunho.

Even when you gently place your head on his shoulder after Ari makes you laugh, he basically shrugs you off. You look up at him confused, because he never really does that. You've always been able to hug him or lean on him whenever you felt like it. You see he doesn't look angry anymore, just very distant. Under the table you run your hand along his leg, trying to be comforting. He lets you for a moment but then grabs your hand, gently moving it back to your lap. As soon as he finishes his food he's off, making his way to the library. Soon you excuse yourself too; your body is pulled to him and you can't stop your feet pattering along the floor, walking you fast to go find him.

You find him standing against the wall, his gaze stuck intently on his phone. You grab it from him, gently placing it on the couch. Grabbing his arms and placing them around you, you pull yourself into his body.

"Stop being weird, hug me back," you say, nuzzling into his chest. Finally he relents, pulling you close, his body tense with something you've never felt in him before.

"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice slightly muffled by his chest.

"I'm- I'm sorry I'm not Seonghwa," he answers.

"What does that mean?" you ask as you turn your head up towards him. He is staring out the window over your head, his look very distant.

"I'm sorry I make you feel worse, not better, when you're sick," he says.

"That was just today, Yunho. Usually you do make me feel better," you say.

"But that's the thing, he knows exactly what to do, even when we're out here away from the hospital. How does he just know? I could never be as prepared as him," he sighs.

"Well, he knew he needed to get me hydrated, which is basically just what they do at the hospital with an IV. So he kept feeding me water, had Wooyoung make me soup. Just got a lot of fluids in me. He knows that stuff because we've talked about it, a lot. I can teach you all of those things too, if you want me to. It's not complicated," you reply.

Yunho takes in what you say but can't find words to respond, instead letting out a quiet groan as he closes his eyes, almost collapsing into you.

"What is it?" you ask, stroking your hand through his hair, his head resting on your shoulder.

"You just, have so much more fun with him than me, don't you?" he asks.

"No, I have fun with you both. Why are you thinking that?" you ask.

"Well just, today, with him, when I came in and you were like, putting makeup on him, hugging and kissing him, you looked happier than I've seen you in a while," he says.

"You make it sound like I was making out with him in front of everyone," you laugh, squeezing him tighter. "Of course Seonghwa makes me happy, he's like basically my best friend. And he takes care of me always, and I take care of him. Of course I was having fun. That doesn't mean I like him better than you," you finish. All you get is a grunt in response, as Yunho picks his head off your shoulder, standing straight again. "Do you wish I'd put makeup on you instead?" you ask, giggling, completely joking.

But then Yunho's face sort of freezes, except for his eyes which look down to yours, and then dart to the floor.

"Wait, really? You want me to put makeup on you?" you ask, genuinely surprised. He had never in his life shown interest in makeup, as far as you knew.

"It looked like it would feel nice," he says, looking slightly embarrassed, his voice quiet.

"This is so exciting," you smile, staring up at him with giddiness. "Can I do it now?" you ask.

"Uh, sure," he responds, taken aback a bit. You let out a squeal of happiness.

"Okay, sit right here on my bed, against the pillows. I'll be right back," you say, marching your way out of the room to find Ari. She is still sat in the living room, taking pictures of Wooyoung's makeup. She immediately goes and grabs her makeup bag at your request, helping you pick out the few things you need. You hug her in thanks, running quickly back to your room. The anticipation is killing you; you just want to see Yunho's beautiful face lit up with a smile again. You haven't seen one all day.

You situate yourself on his lap, your legs straddling his, your hips coming in close contact. You know it's not really necessary, but you're looking for any excuse to be touching him after you hadn't had the chance to all day. You set out the products Ari lent you on a shelf behind his head, slowly deciding what exactly you want to do. He's given you permission to do whatever you please, so you let your mind wander, thinking of what would look best on his high cheeks, his perfect lips. You decide to forgo any face makeup, his skin already perfect as is. As you begin applying some eyeshadow he closes his eyes, his head resting gently on the bookshelf behind him. With his eyes closed you finally feel able to say it, feel able to ask the question that had been dancing in the back of your mind all day, only surfacing now that you two were finally alone.

"Did you have your vasectomy reversed?"

He'd gotten one several years ago, during his last serious relationship. He'd mentioned it to you in passing, but you'd made a point of asking him more about it later. You'd never personally known any man who'd gotten one, and couldn't help your curiosity. He'd explained his girlfriend at the time couldn't take birth control, that it gave her bad mood swings. So he got it done for her peace of mind. Your respect for him grew even stronger that day.

"No. Why do you ask?" he responds, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"Cause you went and got a condom last night," you say, still not even sure where or who he got it from. "I thought maybe that was because you'd had it reversed, or something."

"That was because we hadn't had a chance to talk about safety," he says, gently opening his eyes when you remove the brush from his lid, picking up a different palette from the shelf. "I don't know if you've been sleeping with anyone, or if you've been tested recently. And you weren't exactly in a state to have that conversation last night. I just figured using a condom was the safe thing to do."

"I haven't slept with anyone in like, two years," you respond, picking out the next color you want to apply to his crease. "But still I had my gyno test my earlier this year for like, everything. I just wanted to be sure. And I'm clean."

"Me too," he says, closing his eyes again when you quietly ask him to, so you can continue your work. "I haven't slept with anyone in a while too, but I had myself tested a few months ago. Just to be sure, like you said. I'm all good too." You just smile, a contented haze falling around you at how thoughtful and safe he is when it comes to sex. It makes you feel safe, really safe, with him. "So next time we- if we have sex again, do you not want me to use one?" he asks you. He peeks open to see you nodding, your lips curled up in a shy smile. Your reaction makes blood rush to his dick, your slight embarrassment making his head spin. Deep down he knows you like dirty, nasty things, despite your sweet, unassuming exterior. You probably want him to do unspeakable things to you.

"You want to feel my cum leaking out of you, don't you," he asks, voice low with a chuckle. Your core clenches instantly, all of the muscles of your groin instantly tensing up. You turn your head away from him briefly, unable to hide your blushing cheeks and your teeth biting onto your lower lip. Your core tightening against him answers the question for you, making Yunho even harder. "I didn't realize you liked that sort of thing," he says, a hand snaking up your thigh and coming to rest on your ass. It's now that he realizes you truly don't have anything on underneath his hoodie, and you haven't all day. He can feel the heat of your bare core through his sweats, as you start grinding yourself down on him more, your body taking over control of your movements.

"I like a lot of... things," you respond, your voice breathy with how turned on you're getting. Yunho nearly groans at your words, imagining just how many 'things' there are. He grabs your face and pulls you into a deep kiss, his head still slightly higher than yours despite your position. That makes his head spin too, how even sat on his lap you are shorter than him. He turns his head further to the side, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue, his hand on your ass guiding you to keep rubbing yourself against him. On his tongue you taste the sweet and savory flavors of dinner; you devour him like you haven't eaten in days, like he's your last hope of survival. You feel his dick getting hard beneath you, rubbing yourself along it while imaging it inside you. He grabs you tightly against him, pushing his tongue even further into your mouth, making you feel light headed with arousal. You're trying to keep your noises at bay, trying desperately not to make the sounds that you made last night. You chase the pleasure that grinding against him is giving you, but the anticipation is too much, and you need relief from it now. You push your hips back momentarily, setting down the brush in your hand to yank at his sweat pants, pulling them down just enough to let his cock spring free of the material. You move yourself forward, your pussy already so wet and ready for him. You truly don't want to waste any more time, you can't. You sink yourself down onto him, in one slow, fluid motion, sighing at the relief of having him fully seated inside of you.

"Fuck, baby," he whispers into your mouth, his lips on yours again, leaning himself forward and grabbing you tight so your bodies couldn't be any closer. You moan at how big he is, the feeling of relief also mixing with one of slight discomfort, at just how much you're being stretched.

"I can't move, I need a second," you whisper back, your eyes closed tightly in pleasure. He brushes a hand over your cheek, kissing the other, pulling back slightly to give you the moment you need. It makes him even harder seeing how much you are reacting to his size, another example of how small you are compared to him. He gently rubs a hand along your back underneath his hoodie, doing everything he can think of to help you relax. You're breathing slowly through your nose, clearly trying to calm your body, but your hips are moving every so slightly, your body still not able to stop chasing what it wants.

You open your eyes to look at him, his own eyes filled with lust and adoration, and the look makes your insides melt. But you can't help noticing your unfinished work; only one of his eyes has completed eye shadow, and a small gem at the corner bringing it all together.

"Can I finish your makeup?" you ask him, pouting.

"Now?" he responds, smiling in amusement.

"Yeah," you pout again, wishing it all looked complete.

"Okay," he nods, huffing out a laugh. He anchors his hands on your hips as you reach to grab the palette again, your pussy still so tight around him. He breathes deeply himself now, trying to keep his own desperation from hurting you or interrupting your wishes. But as you start applying the makeup again, your hands brushing gently over his skin, his closed eyes heightening every sensation, he can't help but buck his hips into you slightly, making you both moan instantly. He keeps his hands set on your hips tightly and starts rocking them back and forward, not moving you up and down his shaft so much as grinding yourself into him, the changes in pressure feeling shockingly good. You do your best to keep your upper body steady, as you finally complete the eye shadow on his second eye, sitting back to double check the symmetry. All that's left now is applying the gem, but your little noises and faces have nearly sent Yunho over the edge and he starts fucking himself up into you, holding your hips steady. You hold onto his shoulders, trying to keep yourself from falling as immense waves of pleasure wash over you. You look at his face again, his mouth agape in pleasure, his eyes looking so pretty framed by the makeup you'd applied. But still, the incompleteness eats at you.

"I can't- fuck- finish your makeup if you're fucking me like that," you say, breathless and struggling to get out such a long sentence.

"I don't really care about the makeup anymore," he says, eyes scanning down your body to watch his cock entering you over and over and stretching you out.

"It's just one more thing, let me finish," you whine, using your own momentum to try to slow his movements.

"Fuck, baby, okay," he groans, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to try to steady his rapid heart rate. His cock is throbbing with pleasure now, and with no barrier between you he can feel everything about you, just how warm and tight and wet your pussy is, squeezing down on him. He's not sure how long he can stay like this, but he wants to let you do what you want, so he begs his own body to behave, to deal with it. You shakily grab the gem, the adrenaline in your body making it nearly impossible as you almost drop it. Your body lurches forward for a second when you grab for it, making your core tighten down again and making Yunho feel like he's about to come undone. Finally you dab on the tiny spec of glue, and finally you place the gem on his face, just where you need it. Again you sit back for a moment to check the symmetry, and Yunho eyes your face intensely, waiting with baited breath for the moment he can finally move again.

"Okay, it's done," you say, a pleased smile on your face. It takes Yunho only a second to grab onto your back with one arm, anchoring himself with his other arm to his side. Suddenly you're in the air and then on your back, met the softness of your blanket. Yunho desperately grabs at his hoodie, pulling it over your head in one motion, throwing it to the side as he pulls off his own shirt with just one hand. His mouth is on yours, his chest and stomach pressed against you as he fucks you hard, his cock repeatedly hitting the perfect spot inside of you. Almost instantly your legs start shaking, your orgasm building fast and threatening to rip through you after all of the teasing before. Your breaths become too ragged for kissing, your head turned to the side as you desperately try not to moan like you did last night, not wanting to upset anyone again. Yunho lifts himself up to watch you, sitting himself up on his knees and putting your ankles on his shoulders, still fucking into you hard, the change in angle making your legs start to shake even more.

"Fuck, Yunho," you moan, feeling so fucked out you can't think of anything else but him. It only takes a few more moments and you're coming undone; your legs shake so much Yunho has to hold them tight, feeling the muscles of your cunt flutter and clench beautifully around him. He fucks you through it, loving to see the look on your face and the way you're trying so hard to be quiet. As he feels the fluttering stop he slows his thrusts a little, not wanting to stop too soon.

"Do you want another one?" he asks, his huge hands wrapped tightly around your legs still. You nod your head with a small smile, feeling like you could take him for hours if he wanted you to. "You'll have to keep it down for me then, even if it feels really good," he says, making you cover your face in embarrassment. Once again, your tightening core communicates for you, Yunho able to read you so well. "I know you like it when I talk to you like that," he says, making you squeal into your hands.

And then he's fucking you again, your legs still in the air, the angle making you come again in mere moments, as you bite down on your hand to keep from making too much noise. Yunho can tell your body can take more now, so he keeps going, feeling his own high approaching as you come for the third time in a row.

"God, I love fucking you," he whispers, his throat tight with pleasure. You feel the need for him to be close again, after coming so many times, so you wiggle your legs until he releases them, and pull at him to come down to you. He nearly collapses on top of you as he buries his face in your hair, his ragged breaths resounding in your ear. You bite down on his shoulder, the only way you can keep yourself from screaming, and suddenly you're coming again. So is Yunho, his hips finally stuttering from their diligent pace, his breathy groans uncontrollable as he cums harder than he ever has. You feel his cum inside you, filling you with warmth, making you wrap your arms and legs around him in a giant hug. As you both come down you stay stuck together, your mind a complete haze of pleasure and happiness.

"That wasn't too much, was it?" he asks you, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek and pushing himself up to get a good look at your face.

"Not at all, it was so good," you murmur, smiling wide. "Sometimes my body can take a lot."

"You're so beautiful," he says, staring at your perfect nose and lips and eyes in wonder.

"You're so beautiful," you respond, stretching your head up to kiss him. After a few more lazy moments spent wrapped around each other, Yunho grabs a pillow, tucking it under your lower back before he starts to finally pull out of you.

"Try to hold it in, I've got a towel right over there," he says, making you laugh. As you hold yourself still he darts to grab it, back to the bed in a second to start cleaning you up. As he dabs at your pussy he sees a few drops of his cum have escaped you, dripping down your ass and onto the bed below. It's so hot it almost makes him hard again, as he sits mesmerized by the sight. Knowing that there's so much still in you, that it'll be dripping out of you all night as you both sleep, makes him feel light headed. You're so tired you don't even see, your eyes closed as you nearly drift off already, your body needing rest after your hectic day. He gently moves you to the side of the bed you like, quickly wiping himself down before crawling into bed with you. You both fell asleep wrapped around each other again, his cum slowly dripping out of you and down your leg where you find it dried the next morning, a welcome reminder of your previous night.

[themotherofhorses]

you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me)

summary: to you, he is fictional. but to him, you are everything and more. he can't live without you. and, really, there is no use in trying to run away, he'll always find you.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. noncon to dubcon. abduction. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part. breeding kink. slight spitting kink. pregnancy.

note: hey this is me practicing writing smut because ive never ever done it before and i don't know jackshit like wtf is a dick hahaha im dreading posting this hahahasendhelpplshaha

masterlist | series masterlist

part two | part three | part four | part five

How did you end up here?

That was all you could ask yourself, over and over again.

It had only been hours ago, maybe, that you were sitting at home, rewatching the first season of House of the Dragon for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Perhaps you dozed off on the couch too, but that was it. You have heard of shifting techniques before- ways to visit your favorite fictional worlds- but you never sought to try them out yourself.

College left you too busy with assignments and textbook readings, as well as the constant and unwavering pressure to maintain both your scholarships and high GPA.

Ever the dutiful and driven daughter, hungry for academic validation and success.

Oh, fuck, your scholarships!

Your GPA!

All those assignments and discussions and exams!

And what about your family? Your mother and father? And your best friend?

Aemond Targaryen seems not to understand your words, and why you tell, beg, and plead for him to let you go. “Please, I need to go home,” you cry loudly, while yanking at the thick knots that bound you to his bedframe, “please! My family, my friends. They will be worrying when they don’t hear from me, and all my hard work and accomplishments, it will be for nothing! Please, I beg you, let me go home.”

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead and says, “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m your family now. Or what is of it.” His lips feel so soft and wonderful, and how desperately you wish to enjoy the feeling. But not like this. You cannot think properly nor muster any sort of response, too distracted and stressed and focused on calming your breathing.

“Although,” he then adds with a smirk, “it truly is not considered a family until you have a babe of your own…or two.”

At his words, you tremble and whimper and try your best to break free, though it is all in stupid and foolish vain. There is no going anywhere, the knots are too tight and Aemond can easily overpower you. All you can do is stare up at the man you once considered your favorite character in the series, ever since the eighth episode aired and he stole your heart and soul and burrowed himself deep within your most inner thoughts and fixation.

“Do not worry,” he says, and you can see a twinkle in the violet of his eye. He rests a hand on your collarbone, gently drawing little shapes across the skin. “Good things will come out of this night, my love, I promise you that.”

Look on the bright side, you tell yourself, in some dumb attempt to steel your nerves, better Aemond Targaryen to lose your virginity to.

“You need to be quieter, my darling-” Aemond murmurs close to your ear “-we do not need curious ears listening in, do we?” He has you riding him, both hands clutching your hips as you do your best to bounce on his cock and match his thrusts. You’re sloppy and inexperienced, and a bit confused on what exactly to do, but it is so endearing that his lips curl into a grin.

Oh, you were made for me, he thinks, watching the way your glazed-over eyes try to hold his gaze. He will have you believe that by the end of the night, dawning if necessary.

There is much rush now that he found you, now that he has the chance to claim you.

You still moan, loud and high-pitched, and he slaps a hand flat over your mouth to shut you up. It makes your pretty and teary eyes widen more as you grab at his wrist, holding onto it while he tuts. “I’ll move my hand when you learn to listen to your husband and stay quiet. No one is allowed to hear my wife in her pleasure. No one but I.” At that, you bat your eyelashes at him, breasts heaving as he leans you down, so close your lips nearly touch, and Aemond can feel your heavy pants against his mouth.

“They will take you away from me, and ship you far across the world where I can’t find you,” he hisses, pinching your swollen nipple between his fingers, “I can’t have that. No, no, do you hear me? I will not survive being torn from you.”

The mere thought of losing you, either at the hands of his mother and grandsire or you returning to your homeland, fills him with sheer dread.

He does not know how to tell you that you are the girl of his dreams, everything he has desired and more. He has seen you in his nighttime slumbers and in the gleam of the summer sunlight and up among the black midnight stars.

But the words fall apart on his tongue, and all he can do is lay beneath you and marvel at your beauty: cheekbones and pretty puffy lips and the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure, and how you look utterly delicious and ruined.

“You were made for me,” he breathes in awe, palming at both your breasts. You have to believe him, this sweet and pretty girl of his, how could you not? The gods above created you for him, he will make you see it. “You are taking me so fucking well,” and Aemond flattens a palm against your belly, where he can feel the slight bulge of his cock. “Look at you, you’re my dream come true.” He thrusts his hips up, fucking into you harder and deeper. It makes you squeal and go cross-eyed.

“Is this too much? I know you can handle it, my darling. My love, my sweet girl,” he purrs.

Aemond swipes at the drool pooling at your lips before stuffing two fingers in. “Fuck,” he whines, breathing hard, slipping his other hand in between your thighs, and with his thumb, rubbing at your clit. Your face twists in a gasp as you tremble, your entire body tightening until you cream over his cock, your loud moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums, slowing his thrusts, “Such a good fucking girl. Look at that, did that feel good, my love?” he asks you.

You nod, rocking your hips back and forth. Your thighs shaking and your face scrunching in complete bliss as you start again, taking his cock deep in your stomach with tiny bounces. “Please- please- please-” you babble against his palm. “I-I want- I need-”

“Want what, my sweet girl? Need what, my darling wife?”

You don’t answer, too overtaken by the pleasure. Aemond chuckles and leans upwards, to bury his face between your breasts. You are absolutely stunning, gorgeous, a living goddess; how he went this long without you is baffling. “You wish for my seed. Is that what you want?” he mutters against your nipple, “of course you do, this belly is too empty, isn’t it? My son should be sleeping inside.” His fingers pinch your clit, and you gasp again. “You’ll be the prettiest mother. You were made to carry my children. You were made for me,” and he pulls your face back to his, with a rough grip on your chin.

“Tell me,” he demands through a pant, “tell me how fucking badly you need my seed. Tell me…tell me right now.”

“I- I need it-“ you choke out, but then you shake your head. “No- No I can’t! I- I need to go- go home!”

Aemond laughs, so hard he flings his head back. The sight takes you by surprise before he shoves you off, causing you to land next to him on the bed. You stare up at him, wide eyed and puzzled and swollen and covered in countless bites and bruises. In one swing, he forces your face into the pillow as he mounts you from behind, fucking you hard. His fingers return to your clit, squeezing and tweaking and not caring one bit about your muffled yelps and whines

“You’ll learn, my sweet girl, but perhaps not tonight. I am your home now, do you understand? I’m your family, your husband, and the father to your children.”

He grabs a fistful of damp hair and yanks your face back, never once slowing his thrusts. Your mouth is open with many moans spilling out, eyes clouded with tears, and cheeks flushed. With his lips next to your ear, he whispers, “You are going nowhere.” Then propping himself on one arm, he trails small kisses up your back to your shoulder blade until his mouth slams down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss.

And when he pulls away, his fingertips squeeze your cheeks together as he demands for you to open your mouth. "You are mine," he grunts, "you belong to me," before spitting into it. "Good, now swallow."

And when you do, he smiles.

"There, see?" he coos, leaning to kiss your forehead as he feels you tighten around his cock. He was going to seed you again, deep inside your womb. Come the morning, he knows his son will be in there, and he can hardly wait.

"My wife, my darling girl, the only woman deserving of me and all of me. Only me." He watches you sob at that, pink lips pressing in a tight line as fat tears streak down both cheeks. "Oh, do not worry, my love. You're too lovely to be crying," and he uses his thumb to brush away the tears, "I'm here to give you the life you deserve," he vows, so lovingly, "you will want for nothing."

With a loud huff, you plop yourself on the couch.

The saying “home sweet home” never felt more sincere until now. It took much time and planning and effort and sneaking around on your part, but you managed to find a way to escape from Aemond Targaryen, though not without consequences. Your belly was growing only larger with every new moon, and your babe was starting to shift around more. At most times, you could feel the fluttering sensation across the bottom of your tummy, and every now and then, the tiniest kick.

It was adorable, you admitted, and you tried your best to find enjoyment throughout the pregnancy, sometimes wondering at night about who your child would resemble.

Would their looks favor yours? Or would they favor their father, with his Valyrian features- that iconic silver hair and violet eyes. The latter worried you the most. How could you even begin to explain why your child looked as if they belonged in the Game of Thrones series, specifically in House Targaryen?

Speaking of such, you had not touched House of the Dragon since you arrived back home all those months ago, too unwilling to turn on the tv and see the man whose child you were mysteriously carrying in your womb. It just did not make any sense, it felt more like a weird dream than reality.

But you were dying of boredom. The dragonling (you had taken to nicknaming the baby that, it sounded both cute and appropriate) was stealing away most of your time and energy, and your mother refused to allow you to do anything that could cause harm or add more unnecessary stress.

So you bit your tongue and swallowed down your grumbles and settled comfortably on the couch before opening Fire and Blood.

“Fucking crazy to think that this is a book of your family’s history,” you mumbled to your baby bump, “fictional my ass.”

So you read, to yourself and to your babe. Read about Aegon’s Conquest and the Year of the Three Brides and King Jaehaerys and his Alysanne and their triumphs and tragedies and legacy, and you read until you reached The Dying of the Dragons, the Blacks and the Greens, where you just sighed.

“And when Alicent sent for her second son to fly to Storm’s End, with the purpose of securing Borros Baratheon’s loyalty to Aegon II by winning the hand of one of his daughters, the Four Storms, the truth was finally known. One-eyed Prince Aemond, twenty and one, had taken a wife of his own in secret, a young maiden not of Westeros (according to Mushroom). Yet Prince Aemond lost her a month into their marriage, although by that time he had become so besotted with his bride, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of living without her or taking another woman as his new wife.

With Prince Aemond refusing his mother’s orders, Queen Alicent had little choice but to send her youngest, Prince Daeron, in his place to Storm’s End. And by the seventh month, Prince Daeron wedded Floris Baratheon, and Prince Aemond One-Eye had reunited with his wife, who was heavy with child by the time he found her.”

You suddenly glance up from the book pages, feeling your heart hammering so hard in your chest that it seems at the end of your throat. On the wall, to your right, hung the calendar which you had taken to use as a means of tracking your pregnancy.

In two weeks, you’ll be at your seventh-month mark.

[etherealval]

morning bliss ۫ ꣑ৎ

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut, oral sex (m!receiving), bad writing

a/n: my first smut I HATE IT SO MUCH BUT HERE WE GO

the light of dawn peeked through the curtain's edges, filling your room with a soft, golden glow. the warm hues bathing everything in a gentle radiance.

you stretched lazily, a contented yawn escaping from your lips as you turned to face matt. he lay beside you, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. the sunlight kissed his skin, highlighting his features in a way that made him look almost ethereal - like an angel basking in the morning light.

not long passed before his eyes slowly fluttered open, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

"good morning baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky from sleep. the sound sent a shiver down your spine, filling you with warmth.

"morning matt" you whispered, brushing a stray hair out of his face while looking at him with pure admiration.

"so perfect... you look perfect"

you couldn't help but smile as you traced the curve of his jaw, leaning in to place a series of soft kisses down his neck. he let out a soft, contented sigh, his head tipping back to give you more access. the corners of his lips curved upward in a sleepy smile as he slowly sat up, propping himself against the headboard.

without parting from him, you moved closer, swinging your legs over his so that you were straddling him, your bodies pressed together. you leaned in, your lips finding his in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly deepened as his hands found their way to your hips. his breath hitched, and a soft moan escaped him as your tongues met, dancing together in a slow, sensual rhythm.

the world outside seemed to disappear as you lost yourself in the taste and feel of him. you trailed your lips down his jawline, then lower, your kisses slow and deliberate as you made your way down his neck and onto his chest. he watched you with half-lidded eyes, his breathing growing heavier with each passing second. there was a sense of urgency in the way he looked at you, a desperate need that mirrored your own as you moved lower, your kisses growing more insistent.

you paused just above his waistband, teasing him with the anticipation of what was to come, resting your head on his thigh while looking up at him, your lust evident in your eyes. you placed your hand on his length, feeling the warmth of him even through the fabric, and began to stroke him slowly. his reaction was immediate-his head fell back against the headboard, and a deep, throaty moan filled the room as you continued your actions.

"fuck- please baby" he whined desperately, his hips bucking up at your movements.

"it's okay matt, just relax" you replied, pulling his plaid pants and boxers down together, revealing his length.

"holy shit baby" you gasped, as his aching cock slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking desperately. you wrapped your hand around him and began to stroke him slowly, his hips instantly bucked into your hand as he whined, losing himself in the pleasure. "just like that- oh my god you're so perfect" he babbled before throwing his head back onto the headboard.

without warning, you wrapped your lips around his length, bobbing your head experimentally.

"oh shit" matt cursed as he let out a desperate groan, everything starting to feel all too much. in return you moaned around his length, sending vibrations down his spine. the room was full of the sound of his whines and moans, causing you to clench your thighs. his sounds fuel you as you take him deeper into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, while you swallow around the length of him. spit runs down the side of your mouth, the sight was so crude but all you could think about was bringing matt to his release.

it wasn't long before he came closer to release, "i'm gonna cum soon" matt breathed out heavily. hearing this fuelled your determination, making you bob your head faster, moving at a pace that had his thighs shaking and his moans growing louder. you hollowed your lips around him while jerking off the remaining length that didn't fit in your mouth.

"shit shit shit" he gasped, tightening his grip on your head. you push your head down further, gagging while looking up into matt's eyes. with that, as soon as his eyes locked in with yours, he shot his load down your throat, coating it white. his whole body jerking as he chants your name, over and over until he comes down from his orgasm, his dick softening in your mouth. you swallow every last drop and pull off him with a pop, not breaking eye contact.

"god i love you so much" he said softly, pulling you closer and capturing your lips into a kiss.

𐙚 tag list - @42angelgirl

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Eight-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theós fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviours, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Angst, Kissing, Sadism, Grinding.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Monday dawned, heralding the return to the comforting rhythm of routine. It was the day that marked the return to navigating through a series of classes, where the majority of students seemed disinterested--their attention merely a sliver of the fervor you felt for the subject matter being presented.

Strangely, Monday held a special place in your heart, a day you embraced with boundless enthusiasm. As the sun stretched its golden fingers through your window, you sprang out of bed, brimming with a vitality that could rival the sunrise. Every cell in your body hummed with energy, enough to fuel you through the day and perhaps even run a marathon around the school grounds before your legs begged for respite.

However, on this seemingly mundane Monday, time seemed to drag its feet, the minutes stretching into endless hours as you maneuvered through class after class. Familiar faces that once held no significance now sent a shiver down your spine, tightening your stomach into knots so constricting they threatened to suffocate you whole.

Normally, classes with Mattheo, Tom, Enzo, and the rest of the Slytherin boys were unremarkable--a monotonous routine where you blended into the background. However, after the tumultuous events that unfolded in the Slytherin common room that past Friday night, it felt like every single pair of eyes in the room bore into your skin with an unsettling intensity, leaving you acutely aware of the weight of their scrutinizing glances.

The memories of that evening hung in the air like a lingering mist, casting a somber aura over your every interaction. Each sidelong glance felt like an interrogation, and hushed conversations reverberated with the unspoken questions that hung between you and your peers. Their collective scrutiny bore down on you, and as the day wore on, you found yourself yearning for the respite that the night would bring, where you hoped to escape the watchful eyes and find solace in the darkness.

With the finesse of a skilled acrobat, you expertly maneuvered through the day's treacherous waters, keeping your head low and your presence inconspicuous. The weight of wary eyes and whispered rumors hung in the air, yet you managed to evade their grasp, emerging unscathed by nightfall.

As darkness cloaked the castle, you found sanctuary in the Astronomy Tower, something you done quite often. There, beneath the celestial tapestry of the stars, you immersed yourself in your weekly research, finding solace in the quiet solitude of the night. The distant hoot of an owl and the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing backdrop as you delved into the captivating realms of celestial phenomena.

With parchment and quill in hand, you meticulously documented the positions of stars, planets, and constellations, observing their intricate dance across the night sky.

Your research focused on celestial events, planetary alignments, and their potential impact on magical energies. Guided by the wisdom of ancient texts and your insatiable curiosity, you sought to unravel the cosmic mysteries that intertwined with the magical fabric of the wizarding world. Each Monday night since the start of the fourth year, you climbed the tower's spiraling steps in order to gather documentation and compare with the previous week.

Lost in the ethereal dance of the stars, your quill moved across the parchment as if guided by some unseen force. Each stroke of your pen felt like an incantation, weaving together the threads of magic and the celestial realm.

Suddenly, the soft echo of footsteps on the stone floor snapped you back to reality. Your head whipped around, eyes wide and heart pounding, only to find Mattheo Riddle sauntering over without a sheer care in the world. His cheeky grin mirrored the mischief that danced in his eyes as he slumped down on the ground in front of you, his back resting against the cold railing.

For a moment, the enchanting allure of the stars faded, replaced by the enigmatic presence of the boy who always seemed to tread the line between trouble and fascination. His eyes glittered with amusement, and you could sense there was more to his presence than mere curiosity.

The stars held their secrets close, but Mattheo Riddle was an enigma you were yet to decipher.

"Stargazing, Raven?" he asked, his voice a smooth melody in the quiet night. "Or might you be decoding the secrets of the universe?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" you retorted, your heart still pounding in your chest, nerves still recovering from the fright he had given you. "You scared the bloody life out of me."

The moonlight cast eerie shadows across his features as he nonchalantly pulled out a pack of cigarettes, the metallic glint catching the dim light. He skillfully extracted one, placing it between his lips, the end glowing briefly as he lit it with the flicker of his lighter, the scent of smoke wafting through the air. Amused indifference danced in his eyes as he exhaled a plume of smoke into the night, his gaze meeting yours with a teasing glimmer.

"What's the matter? Thought I was Berkshire?" he teased, his voice a low murmur, the cigarette smoldering between his fingers. "I came up because I knew you'd be up here...you're quite the creature of habit, even after all these years."

The tension between you hung in the air, thick and palpable, the silence broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the soft crackle of the burning cigarette.

"You knew I'd be up here?" you huffed, irritation lacing your words, the annoyance palpable in the air. His Berkshire comment had struck a nerve, and you felt the sting of it. "What, are you stalking me now?"

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, smoke curling around his lips like a ghostly veil.

"Hardly stalking, princess," he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. "This used to be my smoking spot. Had to find a new one ever since your prissy little ass decided to take up stargazing as a bloody extracurricular."

His voice slithered with a playful venom, a tantalizing blend of sarcasm and arrogance that only Mattheo Riddle could master. Each word was like a silk thread, wrapping around your senses, leaving your skin prickling with irritation and your pulse quickening with an unsettling desperation. The emotional whirlwind he stirred within you was as intoxicating as it was maddening--a dizzying concoction of annoyance and desire, a sick dance that left you both infuriated and oddly enticed, your heart pounding in your chest like a caged animal desperate for release.

Your eyes narrowed, a flicker of realization washing over you as you caught on to his unspoken admission, your lips curling into a devilish, twisted smirk as you tilted your head in challenge.

"Oh no...how utterly tragic, Riddle," your words dripped with sarcasm, each syllable carefully enunciated, as you arched an eyebrow in mock surprise. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience I've caused you--please, tell me, should I get on my fucking knees for you now, or later?"

A wicked smirk curved Mattheo's lips as he took a leisurely drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. His posture oozed unfazed arrogance, his sharp features highlighted by the soft glow, casting a sinister shadow across his face.

"Now...later...doesn't matter to me, Raven," he purred, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You'll end up on them for me eventually."

"Just charming, you are," you retorted, rolling your eyes to hide the flicker of arousal that his words ignited. "Look, I appreciate the company...but if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my 'prissy' little activity in peace."

You chewed your cheek, your tone laced with sarcasm as you turned your attention back to your celestial research, not bothering to look up at him as you tossed him another jab, seemingly unable to control yourself.

"And no, I wasn't worried you'd be Berkshire," you muttered, focused on your parchment. "I was worried you'd be your brother, you know, the prefect...getting caught by him is the last thing I need right now."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, a glint of annoyance flashing in his gaze like a stormy sky. "Sorry to disappoint," he retorted, his voice low and laced with irritation. "Bet you'd love a punishment from him, huh? He'd make you face the wall, maybe even bend you over and have you lift up your skirt...the sixth years certainly seem to fucking love it."

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his words sinking in as you peeled your eyes away from your work. You met his gaze, desperately assessing him for any sign of bluffing, but not finding even a shred. His words hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that he might be telling the truth. A scoff escaped your lips, a mix of disbelief and nervous tension.

"Don't believe me? Maybe try crawling out from under your little rock for once and listen to the talk." He took another drag of his cigarette, his lips curling into a half-smirk. "Consider me your guardian angel tonight, saving you from that terrible fate."

"Guardian angel?" you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you tried to brush off the uneasy feeling settling in your gut. "So that's why you're here...you're worried Tom is going to find me and touch me without your fucking permission, aren't you?"

Your words carried a biting edge, challenging him to reveal his true intentions. His half-smirk deepened, the corners of his lips tugging upward in a way that made your skin crawl. Mattheo's gaze bored into yours, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and something darker, something possessive that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I prefer to be the one that decides who gets to play with my toys," he said, his voice low and laden with a subtle threat. "And as it turns out, I don't like sharing what belongs to me, Raven."

The way he said your nickname sent a shiver down your spine, his voice wrapping around you like a dangerous promise. A predatory edge underscored his words, a warning wrapped in seduction, making you acutely aware of the dangerous game you were playing with the messy, brown haired boy in front of you.

And in the aftermath of his words, something inside you snapped, tired of his games, a fierce energy propelled you forward. With swift purpose, you cast your parchment and quill aside, shifting across the unforgiving stone floor, each movement deliberate, until you found yourself nestled in the space between his legs, the cold stone biting through your robes. Your eyes bored into his, your gaze intense and unyielding, as if you could find the answers to all of your questions painted on his skin.

"You're going to give me grey hair, do you fucking know that, Mattheo?" you whispered, your voice laced with frustration as you locked eyes with him, searching for any semblance of truth in his gaze. "When are we going to talk about what you said in the library? When you-"

"What's there to talk about, Raven?" He cut you off, leaning his head back against the railing, his expression nonchalant as he brought his half-lit cigarette up to his lips, taking a slow draw while his eyes remained fixed on yours. "I already told you, I was drunk."

Your stomach plummeted like a stone, a sickening mix of disappointment and hurt gnawing at your insides. Despite your efforts to conceal it, to suppress it so deep that it diminished into absolutely nothing, the sinking feeling was undeniable, overshadowing any semblance of composure you tried to maintain. Each shallow breath you took seemed to echo the hollow ache within you, amplifying the aggravating vulnerability you felt.

"So when you said I'm not just your toy, you didn't mean it..." your voice wavered into a barely audible whisper, trailing off into the unspoken ache. "When you said I'm the one girl you can't get enough of...you didn't-"

"Perhaps I meant one of those things," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the world. "I'll leave which one up to your interpretation, Raven...you're a bright girl, yeah?"

The dim light from the tower's single lantern cast uneven shadows on his face, highlighting the contours of his features. His eyes, usually a bottomless abyss, now held a glimmer of something you couldn't quite decipher. Mattheo's gaze flickered, darting from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes, brows pinched in focus. His lips, once so teasing, tightened into a thin line, and the playfulness that usually danced in his eyes was replaced with a shadowed intensity.

His hand found your arm, the touch feather-light, yet still somehow managed to send shivers down your spine, as if the grip had the power to unravel every thought you harbored. You felt the weight of his fingers, warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the cool stone beneath you, and you exhaled; a long, trembling breath.

"Why do you have to do that?" You couldn't contain the frustration in your voice, the pent-up emotions breaking free. "Why do you always deflect everything? It's impossible to-"

Your words were cut off abruptly as his touch tightened ever so slightly, his grip firm yet still strangely gentle. His eyes drilled into yours, now, as if daring you to continue--the silence between you speaking louder than any words could, the unspoken tension lingering in the air like a storm on the horizon.

"Raven," he said, his voice low and measured. "You said you didn't want to make things complicated-"

"Too late for that, Riddle..." you cut him off, now. Your voice was edged with frustration, your emotions swirling like a storm inside you. "You already blew that door wide open when you started getting possessive and then said we should just forget about everything-"

His grip tightened further, tugging you closer, the tension between you palpable. "Yeah, and how long did that last?"

"Are you blaming me for that, Mattheo?" you said, your voice a mere whisper, your gaze flickering to his lips, almost involuntarily.

"I'd never blame you for any of this, Raven." He retorted, voice tight and controlled. "But you didn't stop me...you didn't push me away..."

Your lungs stalled in the wake of his words, your chest constricting, every syllable bouncing around in your head like a basketball. His words rattled your brain, a heavy truth you couldn't deny. The weight of your own desires and the reckless dance you both had engaged in settled upon your shoulders.

"You called yourself a monster..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if you were afraid of setting him off with too loud of a pitch. "You said you'd never deserve-"

"I am a monster, Raven," he spat, his throat working as he swallowed. "I have blood on my hands in ways you could never imagine…and that doesn't even do it justice…it’s on more than my hands…it's not as though it stops there, at my wrist like a fucking glove..."

His words hung in the air, laden with a haunting ache that resonated in the nighttime silence. A defeated exhale escaped your lips as you shifted against the cold stone, feeling Mattheo's hand slip around your back and pull you into the warmth of his chest. Your head nuzzled involuntarily into the hollow of his neck, seeking solace from the frigid night, every inch of your body tingling against his. You didn't understand what this was between you two, what the fuck you were even doing, but the biting cold seemed to fade away in the embrace of his body, offering a fleeting sense of comfort in the midst of uncertainty.

As the silence settled around you both, broken only by the steady drumming of his heart, you couldn't escape the profound curiosity that gripped your thoughts--you wondered what he'd gone through, what he'd done, or perhaps even what he'd seen--but even more than that, you couldn't help but to wonder--was it better to out-monster the monster, or allow yourself to be quietly devoured?

"What's your story, Mattheo?" you asked, your voice tinged with a bitterness you hadn't meant to unleash, shattering the silence between you. "What the hell made you such a complicated asshole?"

"What's yours, Raven?" His body tensed at your words, his Adam's apple bobbing against your head as he swallowed, a subtle tremor betraying the calm facade."Actually, don't even tell me...I'm pretty certain I've already got it."

"Is that so?" You cocked an eyebrow. "Let's hear it then."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You're the girl who craves chaos but hides it beneath a veneer of perfection."

His words almost immediately made you tense, and yet, you knew he wasn't finished.

"Silver spoon-fed, parents too busy climbing social ladders to notice their own daughter drowning in their expectations...private schools, debutante balls, a picture-perfect life that's paralyzing you. You're the good girl, always following the rules, always striving for the unattainable...classic overachiever clawing for perfection just to win daddy's fucking approval," he pressed his mouth to your temple, dropping his voice into a low, growling whisper. "Tell me, how does it feel to wear that suffocating mask every day?"

"Fuck you," your gaze hardened, the words slicing past your teeth like a razor, pulling yourself off his chest as you shifted to face him. You couldn't believe how scarily fucking accurate he was, but you refused to give him the satisfaction."If I didn't know any better, I'd think there was jealousy in your tone, Riddle."

"You can't deny it because you know I'm right," he shrugged, voice as cool as ice. "I see the look in your eyes...eyes don't lie, Raven."

"You think you have me all figured out, yeah?" You huffed, irritation flooding through you now, searing your skin. "Well you're not the only one...I fucking see you, Mattheo Riddle...the black sheep of a prestigious family...daddy's little disappointment, constantly overshadowed by your genius brother...a rebel without a cause, desperately seeking validation in all of the wrong places. The reckless bad boy facade is merely a shield to hide the cracks in your own pitiful self-worth."

You couldn't even believe the words leaving your own mouth, but if they affected Mattheo in any way, his expressions would never show it. You let your words linger for a moment before you countered his earlier question with one of your own.

"Don’t you ever get tired of pretending, Mattheo?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed Mattheo's eyes, swiftly overshadowed by a simmering anger. His lips tightened into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw clenching visibly. The silence that followed your question was thick with tension, pregnant with the weight of unspoken emotions. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to draw out a composed response, his voice laced with a bitter edge.

"Tired?" He spat. "I don't have the luxury of exhaustion, Raven."

"Grow up, Mattheo..." you physically had to refrain from rolling your eyes. "It's about fucking time you got over yourself, don't you think?"

"I'd be careful with your next words, princess..." he spat, his tone sharp as a dagger. "You don't know anything about me…it's bold of you to think you can make assumptions like that."

"You fucking started it," your voice was low and laced with intensity, leaning in closer until your breath mingled with his. "You don't know half of the woman you stare in the face."

Mattheo paused, his eyes, deep pools of intensity, bore into yours, drawing you in with their magnetic pull. Every glance exchanged with him was like plunging into the depths of a storm, your heart racing with the force of the emotions he stirred within you. The pause stretched, the silence thick with unspoken desires and unquenchable passion as you held his gaze, feeling the unrelenting pull that seemed to tether your souls together.

"You know what I think, Raven?" The tone of his voice switched to a seductive purr, his calloused palm finding your thigh, slithering higher. "I think we're more alike than you'd care to admit."

Each word dripped with a venomous mix of arrogance and seduction, carrying the weight of the truth you both refused to acknowledge--the touch of his hand on your thigh rid any desire you had to speak, seemingly possessed and silenced simultaneously, clinging to his voice.

"I think we're two sides of the same coin, struggling to find our place in a world that demands we choose a path..." Mattheo continued, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "We both wear masks, Raven. Yours might be polished and refined, but it's still a mask. Underneath, we're both drowning in expectations, haunted by our own ghosts."

His fingers traced circles on your thigh, a touch that sent electric jolts through your skin. "We're both searching for something, aren't we?" he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Maybe that's the point of all of this...after all, it is equally as fucking inhumane to be totally good, as it is to be totally bad, don't you think?"

A charged silence enveloped both of you as Mattheo pulled you closer, his fingers trailing a fiery path along your skin. His lips hovered inches away from yours, teasing but never quite fulfilling the promise of a kiss.

"Maybe...we make each other feel alive...does it matter if it hurts?" His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a touch as soft as a feather but laden with an undeniable intensity. "It’s a risk…for both of us…but I tried to fight it and didn't even last a fucking day...it's wrong, Raven, it's so fucking wrong...but I just can't stay away from you..."

In the wake of his touch, his words, his fucking voice--you found yourself utterly breathless, frozen in a moment where time seemed to stand still. In the silence that followed, his eyes bored into yours like twin obsidian orbs reflecting a stormy sky, and you were rendered powerless, your every sense overwhelmed by the intoxication he effortlessly wielded.

His presence was a potent elixir that seeped into your veins, setting your blood on fire and entangling your soul in a web of desire. You were caught in a whirlwind, a chaotic dance between anger and need, a tempestuous passion that only he could incite. Every fiber of your being rebelled against the pull he had on you, yet you found yourself irresistibly drawn to the very source of your turmoil.

He was a living contradiction, an enigma wrapped in layers of darkness and charm. His presence was suffocating and intoxicating, a potent mix that left you both exhilarated and vulnerable. In that moment, you realized he was more than just a person; he was a force of nature, a hurricane you couldn't escape, even if you wanted to.

As the truth hung heavy in the air, you admitted it to yourself--despite the chaos he brought into your life, despite the risks and the dangers, you fucking craved him. A dark villain you found yourself strangely drawn to, unable to outrun the allure of his darkness. His touch, his words, his very essence--they made you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before, in the most chaotic and exhilarating way, and in the midst of this internal battle, you acknowledged the undeniable reality--you wanted him, fiercely and recklessly, consequences be damned.

You inhaled a shallow breath, drawing in his exhales like a forbidden addiction. "You're going to be the fucking ruin of me, aren't you, Mattheo?"

"Yes." Mattheo huffed, his breath mingling with yours as he grazed your lips once more. "Does that scare you, princess?"

"Yes," you admitted, your hands instinctively slithering around his neck, words leaving your lips without thought. "Everything about you scares me."

Your confession hung heavy in the air, your fingers instinctively curling around the fabric of his jacket. His response was a low, rumbling purr that sent shivers down your spine, the intensity of his gaze burning into your soul.

"I can't believe you just said that, Raven..." he husked, his grip on your waist tightening possessively. His lips brushed against your jawline, sending electric currents through your skin.  "You don't even know how fucking hard that just made me."

Your eyelids fluttered, heat pooling between your thighs, as his touch ignited a wildfire within you.

"You're fucking insane..." you breathed, your fingers digging into his jacket, desperately trying to ground yourself in the midst of the overwhelming desire he stirred. "I don't know how you do this to me..."

"It's useless to fight it, princess," he purred, his teeth grazing your pulse, each touch seemingly branding you as his. "I've already made you mine."

"Your toy," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "You've made me your toy."

"Yes, my toy." He growled, his grip intensifying. “Mine...all fucking mine..."

Under the moonlit sky, the Astronomy tower stood silent, the night air thick with a dark lust. His teeth sank into the sensitive skin of your neck, the cool breeze caressing your heated skin, intensifying the pleasure-pain sensation coursing through your veins. Your head fell to the side instinctively, the distant twinkle of stars above bearing witness to the passion igniting between you. Your body trembled under his touch, the night itself seeming to shiver in response to the escalating desire enveloping you both.

With a sudden intensity, he cupped your face in his hands, his touch both possessive and oddly gentle. His dark eyes bore into your soul, their intensity searing into your skin.

"Are you sure you're good with that, Raven?" he demanded, his voice low and raw. "You're good with being my little toy? You're good with continuing this with no strings attached?"

"Yes," you murmured.

"Say it." He said, vibrations of his chest rumbling through you. "Say you're good with it."

"I'm good with it," you said. "I'm good with being your little toy, I'm good with no strings, no bullshit-"

Cutting you off, his mouth crashed onto yours, a hungry, fervent kiss that seemed to convey years of pent-up desire--it was as if he had waited his whole life to kiss you, his lips molding perfectly against yours, igniting a fiery passion that consumed the both of you with ease. His lips moved with a purpose, a desperate need that mirrored your own--the air crackled with anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours.

You were lost in him, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of pleasure and need. The world ceased to exist, and there was nothing but the electrifying connection between your lips, binding you to him in a way that felt inevitable, unstoppable, and undeniably right. His kiss was a storm, wild and unrelenting, consuming you entirely, moving with a fierce hunger, his tongue seeking entrance, and you welcomed him eagerly, your mouths dancing in a heated tangle of desire.

As he deepened the kiss, the intensity grew, an inferno raging between you. Every touch, every taste, every second seemed to set your skin ablaze, leaving you breathless and aching for more. Your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, as if trying to merge your souls through this kiss--the two of you shifting positions until you were straddling his lap, the feeling of his erection pressing against your centre pulling a guttural groan from your throat; his fingers digging into your skin in response.

With a gasp, he broke the kiss, his lips leaving a trail of searing kisses down your neck, igniting a fire wherever they touched. Your head fell back in response, exposing the vulnerable curve of your throat to him. His hot breath fanned over your skin, sending shivers down your spine, as he pressed soft yet possessive kisses along the column of your throat. His lips moved with purpose, exploring every inch of your neck as if it held the secrets to the universe, his tongue flicking out occasionally, teasing, before his teeth grazed your skin, a promise of both pleasure and pain. Each touch sent shockwaves through your body, amplifying the intensity of your connection, as you clung to him, lost in the whirlwind of desire and need.

"I want to make you cum again..." he murmured against your skin, his hands gripping your hips and pressing you down against his crotch. "I want to make cum over and over, fuck..."

"Matty..." you moaned, his teeth grazing your pulse, your hips rolling against his lap involuntarily, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his hands moved to your ass; squeezing with malicious intent. "Shit...we can't...not here..."

"I know." He groaned, his hot exhale showering your skin. "Wednesday."

"Yes..." you breathed. "Wednesday."

—————

Here’s chapter nine->

[disneyprincemuke]

daylight * mv1

it’s been 2 years since that fateful night in christian’s home, here’s how life is currently going for you and max

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: fluff smh

notes: HAHA u really thought i'm over midnights yet here i am! this has been sitting in my drafts for like weeks but i got really really carried away by my femdriver series like its crazy

(series masterlist)

(prev)

your hands are on your hips, shying behind the doorframe away from max’s camera. he climbs out of his simulator’s seat and freezes when he meets your eyes.

“darling!” he greets you with a wide smile and open arms.

you step away right before he can pull you in for a hug, giving him a knowing stare. “don’t ‘darling’ me. you know what you did.”

max slumps his shoulders with a sheepish smile as realisation slowly dawns him. “i’m sorry. i was streaming and i completely forgot about the dishes.”

you sigh with a small smile on your face. “i’ll let you off this one time because you’re very polite about it.”

“i’m always polite to my darling,” max says airily, leaning forward with his lips puckered out. you raise your eyebrows in amusement and tilt your head. he frowns. “give me a kiss!”

“no way!” you laugh, turning the other way towards the kitchen. “you didn’t even wash the dishes! naughty boys don’t deserve kisses!”

“if i wash them, will you kiss me?” max asks, chasing after you. he rests his forearm on your shoulder and grins.

“yeah, cause then you wouldn’t be a naughty boy.”

“alright, i’ll go wash them,” max grins, puffing his chest out as he stomps past you to the kitchen. “come watch me wash the dishes like a good boy.”

you throw your head back, laughing as you follow behind him. you’re still in your office clothes, hair pinned back in what’s deemed a professional style and makeup still caking your face.

“how was work?” max starts, starting to wipe away at the dishes with a soap-soaked sponge. “what did you have for lunch?”

“it was alright,” you shrug, lips pressed together into a small grin. “i had some pasta for lunch down the street from the office. we should really go — it’s very good!”

max raises his eyebrows with a small grin. “it must be very good — you’re not much of a pasta person.”

“yeah, but they convinced me to get pasta. told me it was really delicious,” you nod excitedly, hopping up the counter to take a seat right by him. “and i have to give it to them. they’re so right that i’m taking my 5-time world champion fiancé with me to eat there.”

max had surprisingly proposed to you one evening while you going around singapore together after the race. you had spent the entire evening with friends at dinner and spent a good part exploring the country in the late hours.

you wound up in bed exhausted from all the walking, and max walked out of the hotel room’s toilet with flushed cheeks and an expression on his face that you’d never forget.

he was teary eyed recounting the night of your breakup — you don’t speak about it anymore — and talked about how he was so scared to lose you for good at the time.

you were so confused, not knowing where all the emotions had come from. until he fished for something in the pocket of his sweatpants and dropped down on one knee.

completely unexpected — the last time you talked about potentially getting married was a couple of months prior. never to be brought up again.

as far as either of you were concerned, there was no need to rush into something like marriage. as max said before, it didn’t really matter as long as you were together.

he walked the paddocks with you, hand in hand with the goofiest smiles on your faces all weekend. he was just so glad that it’s another year he spent in singapore walking out with you.

you rested your head on his shoulder as you awaited your friends and he instantly knew that he had to ask you that night. he would have asked you on the spot if it weren’t for the ring resting comfortably in his suitcase back in the hotel room.

max scoffs jokingly, flicking his head to the side to act like he’s flipping his air. “ugh, your fiancé?” he scowls slightly. “did he even get you a ring?”

you gasp, your hand held up to your chest, the diamond on your finger reflecting the soft lights off the kitchen ceiling. “of course he did! my fiancé took days finding the perfect ring for me!”

max squints his eyes to look at it.

“ugh, he sounds pretentious.”

“he’s perfect,” you say calmly, a hand resting on his shoulder. you inch your face towards his with your lips puckered. “he’s my favourite person in the whole wide world.”

max presses a chaste kiss to your lips, blood rushing to his cheeks as he does so. “i love you.”

“i love you more.” you pull back and press your back against a cabinet. “how was your day, love?”

“it was great. went to the gym, came home and fed the cats. then i streamed with the guys for a little bit,” max grins. “have you had dinner?”

“not yet. what do you have in mind?”

“charles told me about this restaurant he ate at with alexandra the other day. just opened up — small business and all,” he explains, wiping his hands on his shirt. he steps over to you and props himself up on the counter with his hands on either sides of your thighs. “they’re open ‘til really late. we can have some food, a couple of drinks…” he raises an eyebrow. “talk about the wedding…”

you hum with a smile on your face. you lean in and let your noses touch. “the wedding? already?”

“absolutely,” max nods, eyes glimmering at the thought of watching you walk down that aisle towards him. “aren’t you excited? we can throw the most extravagant wedding if you want. my treat.”

“ah, ever so generous with your money, my love,” you laugh. “we can spend all that on our honeymoon.”

“spend all my money on both,” max mutters. “my money is all yours.”

“what about my money?”

“also yours,” max says. he leans in, pressing his lips against your nose before pulling away. “what do you say? let’s go on a date?”

“okay, but i get to drive your pretty new and expensive car?” you bat your eyelashes as you hop off the counter, swaying side to side with your hands clasped together. “promise i’ll be careful.”

max presses his lips together, hand on the small of your back as you walk out of the kitchen. “i told you that you can drive the car whenever you want.”

“yeah, but that car isn’t mine.”

“might as well be.”

“doesn’t make it mine, max.”

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever @lokigoeschoki @cherry-piee @eviethetheatrefreak @hrlzy @dear-fifi @telengraph

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook Entry 💜 Bubbles (Part 2)

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You wake up the next morning and feelings you didn't want to stir are brought back to the surface. You think he might feel the same way but maybe you jumped to conclusions too soon.

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit, unprotected sex (stay safe!), you guys fight and stuff gets punched and thrown around, lingering feelings, heartbreak, second chances

PARTS: [1] [2]

A.N. I wrote this story after a while of being unable to focus and write so I hope you enjoy it, I think it turned out fun :)

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

You woke up in the morning, yet despite the sun’s rays hitting the floor, you couldn't be certain. Were you truly waking up?

You sighed and pressed yourself further back into a welcoming chest. The sheets had a familiar scent, and this along with the tattooed arm enveloping you and the breath fanning your hair made you sure that you were still dreaming. You moved ever so slightly, you wanted to submerge deeper into that dream, and his legs tangled with yours even better as if to tell you you were not going anywhere. It melted you because it reminded you of so many mornings before. So many dawns and sunsets where you’d be tucked in safely inside those arms, with his hum near your ear, his perfume trickling your nose, and you took deep breaths. That was your safety net, the place you rushed to so you could recover, rest, and gain the courage to face the world.

It was enough for you to search for even more. You were sleepy, dreaming, and on the only fluffy cloud in the sky where you wanted to be. So you turned under his arm to face him and your heart instantly trembled. His eyes were closed, but the soft lines of his face were the sweetest thing you had ever seen. You missed those pouty lips, that round cutesy nose, and the swell of those cheeks you used to tease all the time and that made you fall in love whenever delicate dimples would crease. His eyebrows had always been so expressive and now one had a piercing, which didn’t match the two rings adorning his lower lip except that he pierced the same side of his face. But even that didn’t surprise you; when you first met, he said he always wanted to do something, but didn’t know exactly what. You guessed he had figured it out.

You reached to brush his hair aside and felt the two studs on his eyebrow with a feather-like touch — you liked it. You liked everything about him, always had. You knew then your heart was getting loud and you smirked when it became deafening — because he opened his eyes. And in that moment, you decided that reality would only come knocking if you let it. You could pretend it didn’t exist. You could pretend Jungkook was still yours, that he didn’t hate you, that you belonged in his arms again.

You leaned in to nuzzle him and gave him a moment to move away. You were clear — you wanted to go on that ride again and forget everything else, but what about him?

He brushed his nose to yours once and captured your lips with a kiss that fluttered your heart. It wasn’t desperate or crude, it was gentle and warm like when two lovers said good morning. And that was all you needed.

You snuggled closer, embracing him and stretching and sighing in multiple turns. He returned your kiss and held you close, equally invested in that moment with you, away from any pain, anger, or subterfuge. This made you smile, contentment radiating from every corner of you, and it was as if you were in an alternate dimension. You could feel his love again and adore him back and you wanted to make the best of it.

Maybe it seemed against your better judgment, but you broke your kiss with a mischievous smile and turned your back on him. You pulled his arm firmer around you, in case he had silly ideas, and rubbed your ass on his crotch for good measure. The Jungkook you knew didn’t need any explanations or instructions, and indeed, he grabbed you close, grinding his hardening dick on your ass while breathing in the scent of your skin.

His hand came to cup your breast gently and you grinned, feeling elated with the way he was all over you. When he started playing with your nipple to harden it, you bit your lower lip and failed to contain your whimpers. He knew you were sensitive but it never stopped him before.

He started biting and licking down your neck and you were covered in goosebumps, arching your back to give him better access. He kept his sweet torture, but that wasn’t enough for you — you reached between your legs to grab his hard cock behind you and pull it to be squished between your thighs when you closed them. Then you rocked your hips and melted at the groan behind you.

“That’s it,” you cooed in a whisper, clenching around nothing in anticipation. “You’re so hard for me.”

You knew he loved to be coaxed, the same way you loved to tell him how good he felt. He wasn’t stopping, nibbling down your skin and pinching your nipple gently as he rutted you and you bit your lip.

“And I’m so ready for you,” you sighed. “Wont you check?”

Your tone was needy but you never bothered hiding it. His hand travelled from your chest to your core and instantly felt how you were dripping from your folds.

You whimpered, “See how you slide so well?” You meant at the surface, but his fingers sank into your flesh, pumping wet sounds out of you along with needy moans. “Fuck— You know where to go. You’ll feel so good, I promise.”

You felt his smile on your skin as he busied himself pumping you with two digits and getting juicy noises out of you. You moaned onto the pillow, rocking your hips to feel him better both inside you and in between your legs. You loved those sensations, not just the pleasure, but the scent reaching your nose because you were in his bed. You were living a dream and it was absolutely perfect.

His hand grabbed your hip, knowing well you were leaning forward and tilting your ass so he’d eventually slip inside you. The way he was making you crazy for it didn’t elude you, but you were never beyond begging.

“Fuck, baby. Please let me have you, please.”

He froze and you squirmed to feel him, thinking that was him just making you work harder for him.

He moved quickly enough that you didn’t think beyond it — he reached behind him inside a nightstand drawer and got something. You heard the wrap tearing and waited until he was ready. You didn’t let a single thought cross your mind, not now.

He grabbed your hip again and this time his cock pushed between your folds to get inside you, making you moan and lose all strength. He rocked his hips into yours and you gasped, leaning back. You didn’t expect him to grab your hair and arch you further, but you definitely tensed more around him, barely able to catch your breath.

“Fuck— Fuck, I love it when you do this.”

You could feel his breath down your neck. “Yeah? Love it whenever a guy fucks you like this?”

“No, only you.” Your reply was as natural as breathing, giving him all you had. “Always only you.” You were burning inside out, feeling flush not only on your cheeks but also on your chest, hands, and stomach. You reached to grip his arm supporting your hip in place; you were starting to get sweaty but you doubted he minded. You were just looking for more ways to connect with him. “Are you going to tease me? Make me a good girl for you? I always loved to be good so I could earn you filling me up completely.”

His hips jerked off tempo and you only sighed. He remembered for sure what you were talking about.

His fingers dug at your skin, “Yeah? How many times have you begged for a guy’s cum after that?”

“Never. You’re the only one I ever begged to, the only cum I ever wanted. The only raw cock inside me, the only—”

He stopped and pushed you by the shoulder to face him. You were a bit startled but faced him with all the vulnerability you had been showing so far. His eyes were glistening, almost hurt, and your breath shook. You didn’t want that reality, the one in which you hurt him. You wanted to be back a year before when everything was good and sweet.

His eyes were watering up and he looked down. You thought he was running away from you and you were desperate for him to stay, and you looked down too. Before you could speak, you noticed he had his hand around the base of his cock, just frozen like that.

You teared up, “Do it.”

He looked up at you and you saw tears in his eyes as well. 

You smiled, “I never had anyone other than you raw. If you want to, I’d love to feel you again.”

He didn’t even blink. You were certain it was an impulse as you saw him pull the condom out and guide himself inside you as if he were a dying man and your core was his salvation. But as you both groaned and closed your eyes with the feeling of being connected again, you couldn’t care. You looked at him with a tear sliding down your face into the pillow and knew that it would all just break your heart in the end.

He must have known it too, because his eyes were glistening and red as he thrust into you at a slower pace. You instantly wanted to beg, but he gripped you closer, jerking his hips into you in a hard yet loving way that melted you to the bone.

“Fuck,” you dragged, trying to look up so you could see him above your legs still bent to the side like when you were spooning. You could feel him all over you again, inside and out in ways that felt like your souls were merging and it had you enter that beautiful reverie. You gripped his arm harder and forced his hand on your chest to squeeze as you moved with him. “Don’t stop. Please, please, please,” you said with every moan, scared that he would pull away and leave you. “Only you feel like this, please.”

“Only me?”

He was breathless, you almost didn’t hear him over your prayers. “Only you,” you confirmed, then you trembled and the words dripped out of your mouth. “I’ve missed you so much. So much,” your voice smothered with anxiety, with the tears flowing from your eyes that you squinted shut.

You didn’t fear that he would reject you or mock you or ignore you, you weren’t thinking. Your heart was hurting and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He slowed down and you hid your face under your hands, immediately wanting to ask him not to stop when you felt his breath near your ear.

“Me too. I’ve missed you too, bubbles.” His voice was wavering as he reached to kiss every inch of skin in range, soon after releasing his hand from your grasp only to grab it back and bring it to his lips. “I’ve missed everything. I’ve missed this.”

A sob almost silenced you, but you managed to call for him first, “Kook.”

It was a desperate sound you were almost ashamed to let out, so your hands instantly covered your face again. 

He stopped and in a second was pulling your leg under him so he could get on top of you in between your legs and hold you tightly. He leaned down to kiss your hands away as his hips rocked into you gently.

His lips and calls convinced you to uncover your face only to wrap your arms around him and hide in his neck, “I miss you!” You whispered with a lump in your throat. “Please.”

He kissed your red and wet cheeks, down to the salty traces that led into your hairline, “I miss you too.”

Shivers ran down your body as his words emerged a knot of feelings from inside your chest. You were never able to face it, to deal with it, to forgive him or yourself, but his words. The way he was with you, holding you close just like he used to when he loved you. His body was fully connected to yours, maybe even his soul.

You sank your nails onto his back and focused on his weight on you, his soft skin, his scent, and the burning tension in your lower stomach. You knew you would explode soon but you needed to let it out.

“I wanted to see you.”

He kissed your head, “I’m here.”

“I needed to see you,” you tried, but the pleasure sparking inside you was about to steal that chance. So you hugged him closer — a moan was pushed out of you and you could feel your orgasm starting, but you still chirped, “I love—”

You couldn’t finish as you started shaking uncontrollably from the waves of pleasure tensing and relaxing every muscle in your body. You clung on to him, squeezing him so tightly you were surprised he didn’t didn’t break apart. But maybe he didn’t for the same reason as you — he was holding you together.

He waited for you to be done before pulling out and coming over your belly. He didn’t bother separating your bodies and just groaned near your ear as you hugged him close. You could feel the warm substance trickling down the sides of your stomach but you didn’t care. You were never one to be bothered, you were not disgusted by him in the slightest.

He kissed your head and you smiled, waiting and longing for his kiss to travel to your cheeks, then further to your mouth. You tried to control your happiness and kiss him back placatingly, still letting that joy reach corners of you that were dim otherwise.

When he pulled away, you had no idea what would happen, but you were at ease. Because you opened up to him and he missed you back, and even though you weren’t able to tell him properly that you still loved him, you’d surely have another opportunity soon.

That was what you thought and the reason your lips were curved, even when he got away from you to grab wipes so he could clean you. Yet as he did, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was hardening and he didn’t look nearly half as relaxed as you did.

Shit.

He wasn’t done yet when you tried to reach for his hand, but he dodged you and threw the wipe away before putting his legs out of the bed to sit with his back to you. You started shaking.

“Not to ruin your post-nut clarity, but I’d like to talk.”

You chuckled nervously and fumbled with the sheet — everything you said felt risky, and every step you took felt like the ice under you would crack. You feared speaking too soon but couldn’t risk doing it too late. You let those fears drown you once, but not again. At least this time your mistake would be insisting, not letting it slide.

“Nothing to talk about.”

You knew from his tone that he was about to push you away and it made you react. “That’s not true. I said I miss you, and you said it back.”

He didn’t answer; all you could see were his wide shoulders as he leaned forward, supported on his knees, and kept quiet.

You gave him the chance to speak his mind because maybe he needed time and who knew, maybe you did too. But you couldn’t think as you waited, you had no idea what to say. Nothing felt enough, but you wanted to say everything.

He heaved a deep breath and moved a millimeter to get up, and you immediately pushed. “Answer me. Talk to me. Why can’t we have a conversation?”

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from you.”

You sat up as he got up and searched for clothes in a nearby closet. “It goes both ways.” 

You bit your tongue and cursed yourself for reacting instead of thinking first — you didn’t want to fight, you wanted to talk. 

You took a deep breath and spoke while he put a pair of boxers on, “Do you miss me?”

He scoffed and left the room and you jumped off the bed after him. You could only grab the nearest tee shirt you saw, black as everything else he owned, and scurried after him.

“Answer me,” you insisted, seeing him in the living room putting pants on. Where did those even come from? “Fucking hell, Jungkook, just answer me!”

“What?!” He exploded, anger brazen on his features, but you didn’t step back.

“Do you really miss me?”

“No.”

You raised your chin and tried to not give away how your heart was cracking further. You couldn’t think or you’d start crying. “Well, fuck you too.” Your voice still wavered, “Don’t fucking lie next time.”

You turned to reach the bathroom and get your clothes so you could leave. Your heart was pulsating with sharp pain and you knew you were seconds away from crying. You needed to get out. Now.

“You’re assuming I—”

“Yeah yeah, no seconds,” you spat bitterly, unsure if he heard you. He shut up, so he did. You grabbed your clothes, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

A sudden noise from behind you startled you so before you could strip, you turned around — he had kicked the bathroom door with so much strength you thought it might have popped off.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“How many times do I have to say it? A fucking conversation!”

“I have nothing to say to you!”

“Fine! You’ll lie anyway!”

You turned your back to him, letting the poisonous anger burn your guts while you got a hang of your dress so you could put it on.

When a loud noise came from the door again, you weren’t even surprised. This time, he punched it and something metal hopped over the floor and rolled away.

“As if you didn’t say those things in the spur of the moment!”

“I didn’t.” Tears ran down your face and you cleaned them quickly, refusing to let the cry take over you. “I meant every word I said.”

“Bullshit,” his voice had so much contempt you almost broke down.

“I don’t care what you believe,” was all you said, then took the tee off. “Just because you lied doesn’t mean I did.”

He saw how your back bent and tensed while you put your strapless bra on. He was shaking in anger but he heard you sniffle and you didn’t sound like you were mocking him. He couldn’t handle it if it was true.

“Don’t joke around—”

“I’m not fucking joking.” You sounded angry now and you grabbed your dress to put it on. He clenched his fists. “But it doesn’t matter, it’s done.”

You put your strapless dress back on, adjusting it so it would cover you as much as possible. You had no way of seeing how angry he was getting at the sight of you wearing that again instead of his clothes, but it was something he would never admit.

“You want me to believe you wanted to see me?”

His voice was derisive and you turned to him. “I did.”

“That you needed to see me?”

He scoffed and you grabbed your heels on the floor. “I did.”

You turned back to him, thinking that maybe now you could actually talk, but he was shaking his head. You saw tears in his eyes before he started laughing and rubbing his face.

“It’s funny, is it?” You asked, filled with contempt yourself. “Why, you didn’t even hit the punchline yet.”

He uncovered his face and his whole expression was a warning.

“What?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you’re going to mock me then at least do it well.”

His jawline was tensing again but you couldn’t care anymore.

“Come on, where’s the final question? You heard me. You would be running your mouth if you didn’t.” You scoffed, “Though I couldn’t really say it properly, but—”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

For a second you thought he was scared, but you only smirked, “I don’t? You know what? You’re right. Congratulations, you’re right about something and all you had to do was be an asshole.” You stepped towards him to get out but he didn’t move out of the way. “Let me go.”

He shook his head and you ignored all kinds of emotions on his face.

You pushed him, but he didn’t move. “Let me go.”

“No.”

You pushed his shoulders again, but he didn’t budge. You clenched your jaw, upset, and saw that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, maybe he liked it. You pushed him once more and he tried grabbing your arms, and you struggled.

He won — he grabbed your forearms, “What did you say?” You scoffed and he pulled you closer. “Tell me what was I supposed to have heard?”

“I said I—” 

You were ready to spit it in his face but your throat blocked as you looked into his eyes. You were both angry and hurt, and you thought you were above it, but you weren’t. If you said it again, it would hurt infinitely more. But then it hit you — he just used you. He was attracted to you and wanted an easy fuck, and that was what that night was. You were hung up on him like a moron.

Your eyes teared up but you made a decision — it would be easier if he just crushed your heart right now.

“I said I love you.”

He released his hold on you instantly as if you burned and you scoffed. You guessed you did — this Jungkook in front of you clearly couldn’t handle something like that. He was a fuckboy now.

You pushed him again and he didn’t resist, falling to the side and letting you pass. You started looking around — you couldn’t recall where you had thrown your purse.

“I said don’t joke around.”

His voice was barely above a whisper and you didn’t stop. You were throwing sofa pillows around, “And I said I’m not joking. And I don’t lie either, contrary to you.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

You pulled your hair back with a sigh; it wasn’t on the couch. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.” You continued looking around, maybe in the kitchen? “What does it matter anyway? I get it — why you lied. I was being emotional and you wanted an easy fuck.” You huffed; not there either. “You got it, so you want me to leave now, right? Don’t worry, I want to, I just can’t find—”

He roared and punched something that made the coat hanger fall to the floor. “You talk and talk and talk but you still don’t know what you’re fucking saying!”

You got over your shock quickly and threw your shoes on the floor, “It would help if you fucking talked instead of breaking the place!”

“I can’t fucking talk when you’re driving me insane!”

You scoffed, “Me? Maybe you are just insane.”

He stepped to you with a dangerous look, “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? What will you do?” You rolled your eyes when he only took a deep breath in response. When you looked back at him he was closer and you instantly tensed up, and not in a bad way. He was eying you in that way that had you crazy needy but you stood your ground. “You’re not touching me again.” Your lips pulled in contempt, “Not like you want to. No sloppy seconds, right? So surely no thirds or fourths or—”

He stepped forward, ready to grab you, and you gave him your most disgusted piercing look.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me, don’t even think about using me again.”

You were out of breath, spitting venomous words while your eyes were locked, but in an instant, something wet dripped down your cheeks. You breathed, and instantly you recognized the pain searing your heart. It hurt. It hurt too much.

Your sob had you sucking breaths anxiously and you gave him your back. You didn’t want him to see how much it hurt you.

“I’d never use you.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because—” He heaved a deep breath. It was complicated and he was so conflicted he wanted to punch something again. But seeing your shoulders move as you contained your sobs, his mind cleared. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

“Right,” you chuckled despite the tears. “Wasn’t fucking in a dark alley enough? Why did you bring me here?”

“To be with you.”

“Say it properly. To fuck.” He didn’t answer and you sucked in a deep breath, “Or maybe… maybe something worse. Not just to use me, did you want to hurt me? Is this some sort of… vengeance or—?”

“No!” He raised his arms to your shoulders but he didn’t touch you. You didn’t want him to.

You grinned but it was painful, “Lying again? Fuck, I never knew you like this.”

“I’m not lying.” 

“Bullshit,” you almost laughed despite your crying and sniffling.

“It’s the truth.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He gritted his teeth behind you and gripped his hair in frustration. He was never the best at saying things, he always showed you better. He wished he could turn you around and get that stupid dress off you so he could cover you in his tee shirt again. He wished he could kiss your tears and hold you again like there wasn’t a mountain between you. He wished he could have you lying on his bed again saying those sweet things that shook him to his very core. He wished he could see your smile again as you drank your honey oat milk latte just the way you liked it because he made it for you. Fuck, he wanted that and so much more, but none of it would happen. He still hated you.

“Give me one good reason why you even talked to me back at the club,” you asked, more poised now that you had calmed your sobs and cleaned your cheeks. You turned to face him and he looked almost like he was in pain, but you only blinked your wet lashes. Your nose, eyes, and cheeks were still red but he knew you were crying, there was no point in hiding it.

“You looked beautiful.”

You scoffed, “Right… Beautiful enough to fuck easy, ri—?”

“Stop saying that!” Your assumptions were driving him crazy, but you were persistent.

“Why? Cause you can’t handle the truth?”

“Cause it’s fucking bullshit!” He smacked his fist on his palm, then opened both as if he could shake you to your senses, “You think fucking you is easy? You think wanting you and bringing you here was fucking easy? I gave in! I saw you, you said those things, and I had to have you!”

“You didn’t have to bring me here.”

“No, I didn’t!” He agreed with you and it made him swallow and take a breath from his shouting. “I did it for my own selfish reasons.”

“And what were those? If not to use me, not to hurt me or exact some sort of vengeance,” you enumerated with your fingers perhaps a bit pettily, but you wanted to understand. However, he didn’t seem interested in sharing — he had turned his back on you and stepped away to have space. “Then what for?”

He grunted and rubbed his face harshly before turning to face you, “Why do you complicate everything? I answered you already — to be with you. That’s all.”

You frowned and puffed; for some reason that answer just left you even more unsettled. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He threw his hands in the air and you insisted, “You wanted to be with me? Then why not let me finish blowing you?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “Thought you would have figured it out by now.”

Your frown deepened in anger, but it hit you. “Because… you didn’t want to use me?” His only response was a twitch of his eyebrows. “Then why not let me cum? When you ate me?”

He puffed a breath as his nostrils flared, but he still answered you, “Cause I was pissed.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Your question made it worse. “Cause you spoke to me like I was nobody!”

Your chin dropped, “What?”

“You spoke like it could have been anyone else eating you and making you crazy and it made me want to tear you apart!”

You were shocked, just looking at him, and it infuriated him even more. He tried his best to keep his cool as he paced the living room — why were you making him feel inadequate? Like he was blowing something out of proportion when it meant so much to him?

“That's— I don't get it,” you tried, confused. “I wanted you to know how good you felt—”

“You called me baby!”

He was shouting again and you blinked, “So?”

“So?!” He kicked the back of his couch. “The most fucking generic term I’ve ever heard! Do you know how many people have called me that? Made me despise them every time!”

“But I've called you that before,” you pointed out, still confused. It was one of your nicknames for each other.

“You called me something else.”

His tone was suddenly sober and you instantly knew what he meant. “Kook.”

“Yes.”

He wouldn’t tell you how much he was hung up on it. He wouldn’t let anyone else call him that, he kicked out any women who tried, and just hearing it from your mouth now gave him goosebumps. It was who he was to you, who he wished he had been for his whole life.

You were just looking at each other while you recalled calling him ‘baby’ in the heat of your shared moments. You never meant it in a general way, you meant it endearingly. But you had called him ‘Kook’ earlier, and remembering it twisted your guts. You sighed and rubbed your eyes for a second — you had decided to crush your heart then and there. You weren’t leaving his place without bloodshed so there was no point in hiding.

“I was scared of calling you that,” you admitted, facing him again despite your fears. “I was scared of exposing myself like that.”

“Well, I did,” his grin was a sneer, but you couldn’t understand. Why would what you called him hurt him if he didn’t care? “So that was like a punch to my gut. Or maybe… maybe you didn't even notice that I—”

“Of course, I fucking noticed,” you blurted out, something akin to desperation on your features. “I noticed and it made me completely lose my mind!”

He leaned forward, gripping the couch’s back, “Not enough to expose yourself to me.”

“I was scared! You still hate me, I was—” Your own words hit you in realization, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I was scared.”

He scoffed, “Scared of what?”

“You know what,” you answered, uneasy.

“I do. See why you have no idea what you’re saying? You just blab and assume shit,” he gripped the leather couch and you thought for a moment he could have thrown it around if he wanted to. “The difference between you and me is that I knew who I was choosing.” His features hardened and you fought the urge to look small. “You said you wanted to do this and I took you.”

Your eyebrows twitched, “You’re trying to say I didn’t? Please,” you rolled your eyes. “Because I didn’t call you Kook sooner? You know better than that. I walked up to you, spoke to you, told you I wanted to be with you, came here with you, told you no one is like you, that I missed you, that no one makes me—” You huffed and bit your lip; you weren’t sure about saying any more than you already had.

His eyes were glistening but his grin was almost cruel. “You don’t look so scared now.”

You frowned for a moment before you raised your chin, “No, I guess I’m not. I was until you embraced me this morning and I thought—” Your lips twitched. “But that was fake,” his eyes snapped to yours and you stood still, “right? You lied. You never missed me, so what does it matter if you called me bubbles?” You scoffed but your eyes were filling with tears again, “Why call me that if you never meant it?” You shrugged, “I have nothing to fear anymore. It’s all fucked, I don’t think it can hurt more than this.”

His jaw was clenching hard while you spoke and he walked around. You thought he looked like a ticking timebomb with his biceps rhythmically reacting to his fists opening and closing.

“Well, I fucking wish it did,” he said. “It seems like nothing I do can hurt you, can it?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m fucking serious!”

“Do I not look hurt to you?!”

“I want you to hurt at least a fraction of what it hurts me!” He punched the couch, but your watering eyes only hurt him more. “But all I managed to do was hurt myself even more!”

“You’re hurt?” You couldn’t hide your skepticism.

“What do you think?! Fuck, you’re so fucking selfish you can’t see anything in front of your nose!”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Happens with liars. It’s hard to distinguish—”

“Shut up!” He turned to you and you squeezed your arms for comfort. “What does it matter if I missed you? If every fucking word out of my mouth was the truth and I called you bubbles because of what you fucking mean to me? Look at you!” You were shaking now with welled-up eyes. “Acting like a fucking abandoned puppy! You left!”

“What?”

“You left! You were the one who left!”

Your heart shook and you became pale, “That was— You mean—?”

“Yes!”

“But— You—” You were so confused. “You knew I’d leave!”

“What the fuck does that matter?! You said no and you left!”

Your heart instantly halted, “That’s— That’s something else entirely—”

“Yeah, right!” You shook with the venom in his voice. “I was ready, I made my choice, and you broke my heart!”

You were shaking and gripping your hands to soothe yourself, “I wasn’t ready.”

“You said no!”

His tone was accusatory and your chin trembled as you were swamped with old feelings and memories. 

Only this time, you took a deep breath and answered back, “Listen to yourself! That day I told you I was going to the US to work for a year and you asked me to marry you! Does that make sense?!”

He had paced to his desk and as soon as you finished, he grabbed his gaming chair and threw it to the ground.

“You said no! You could have said something else! You could have said not yet or let’s talk or— I don’t know, just anything else! But you said no!!”

“Well, fuck, what was I supposed to say?! I had that job opportunity and you were going too fast!”

He sneered, “Fast?”

“Yes, fast! We weren't together for even a year yet!”

“I don't care! I fucking knew I wanted to spend my life with you! And you said no!”

“I said I love you!”

He kicked the chair on the floor, “And it wasn't enough!”

“No, it wasn't!” You stepped forward, wanting to punch something yourself. “Clearly! You’re fucking mad I said no, but what about you?! You fucking dropped off the face of the earth! You knew the dates of my contract, I forwarded the flight information to you, and you never spoke to me again! You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“What goodbye?! What bigger goodbye do you need than rejecting me when I’m on my knees for you?!”

“Stop being so fucking self-centered!” He started laughing, but you were not done. “I said I loved you. I wanted to be with you and you threw a tantrum like a child!”

“A tantrum?” He was still laughing and you’d recognise that bitterness anywhere.

“Be honest,” you breathed. “Would you have come with me?”

His laughter died. “What?”

“You heard me. And if you couldn’t, would you have waited for me?”

His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights and you let the tears fall from your eyes.

“I never got to ask,” you continued in the silence. “You never answered me again. I always thought that your not answering was your answer. That you never wanted to see me again because if I wouldn’t marry you like you wanted, then you wanted nothing to do with me.”

He finally breathed, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You smiled and cleaned your cheeks, “Then why is that the only thing you say? That I said no? I never meant no forever, I never meant that I wouldn’t in the future. But I needed that opportunity to build my career, I needed that sacrifice from you and you turned your back on me.”

“No, I—” His mouth was opening and closing, he couldn’t find the right words. “Because— Because I thought you wanted to just— To just leave me behind.”

“Behind? As if I wasn’t leaving my heart with you? Tell me, did you ever think about asking me? About talking to me?” His lips twitched in hesitation and your lips curved painfully, “Right.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, but you shook your head in disbelief. “I wanted to but I felt broken. You left me and rejected a future with me, you didn’t want me. What point was there in reaching out to you?”

“I wish you had. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked, but a part of me likes to believe we would have made it. One year was a long time but not the end of the world. For you, I would have done it.”

You nodded and looked at his feet for a moment. None of you would ever know now, but you believed it. You were at peace with at least having voiced that to him.

You looked up at him and saw as clear as day how lost he was. He was gripping his hair with pain across his features, maybe something else. He was still shirtless in front of you, a Greek God in all his glory, yet your eyes couldn’t abandon the soft curls of his hair. Now that everything was out there, you were sort of melancholic. You’d miss him.

“Fuck,” he dragged in a grunt. “Is this what you wanted? To find me again and break me?”

You chuckled, “What the hell are you saying? I never thought I’d see you again. And if I did, I expected to find you married to the woman of your dreams.”

He groaned and rubbed his face before facing you, “You— You’re the woman of my dreams!”

Your lips trembled but you stayed quiet; you had no idea where any of that left you.

“I can’t believe this,” he let out, then scoffed. “No, I’m in too deep now. You could have reached out too. You could have told me all this and asked me before, but instead, you just turned and left. Because you didn’t want me.”

“I called you!”

“For like two days! How long do you think it took to heal my wounded heart?”

“I don’t know! From what I’ve heard, your heart has been more than comforted, you probably healed very fast!”

“Oh fuck off,” he spat with harsh eyes. You regretted letting those feelings surface, but it was too late. “You left me after rejecting me, I was free to do whatever I wanted and screw whoever I pleased.”

“You’re right, forget I said that.”

He laughed, “Nah, that’s just you. Worried about whether I’ve been well-fed or not. Why? Thought that would make it easier?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, to get me crazy again.”

You couldn’t help your lips pulling, “I did drive you crazy.” His eyebrow twitched over a dark gaze and you quickly sobered up. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He could be spitting those words for all intents and purposes.

“No, I meant that after I called you, I took your silence as—”

“No, no, fuck that. Excuses, all of it. You saw me on my knees and butchered my heart, then left days later for another country. If you cared, you would have done more.”

“You act as if you don’t have arms and legs yourself.”

“And you act like a damsel in distress when you’re anything but,” he had neared you now and you sobered up. “I still hate you, you know.”

Your lips trembled and you looked down with a sour smile. You did realize it, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I know.”

You were focused on mapping your conversation and seeing if there was anything you could tell him that could clarify things when he scoffed.

“No, scratch that.” You looked up and saw him running his hand through his hair. “I fucking hate you and the way you just tried to bring me down to my knees again.”

“I didn’t—!”

“I hate that I brought you here 'cause I wanted to see you here, in my home, as if that could bring back what we once were. I hate that I gave you what you wanted even if it hurt. I hate that I called you bubbles as if you’re still that person. I hate— I fucking hate you, I can’t—”

His voice broke down but you had already heard too much. You couldn’t face him anymore, you were hiding under your hand as your spirit drained in the form of tears.

“I understand.” Your sight was blurry but you knew the way out. You stepped around him, “I’ll leave—”

You weren’t expecting him to grab you and crash his mouth into yours, but you didn’t fight him. You let him kiss you desperately and did the same all while the tears kept streaming down your face.

“Don’t fucking leave,” he whispered to your lips, pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t stand the thought of you walking out. Not again.”

Your cry was uncontrollable, “But you hate me.”

His hands were firm around your head, not letting you move away, and the only sound you both could hear was you trying to control your sobs. It broke him to see you cry, it always did. He didn’t know what to do. No matter how hard he tried, there was this poison inside him that gushed out every time. It was all breaking apart again, and he wanted everything to go to hell, but looking at you, he knew that wasn’t true.

You sniffled, “If you hate me and I love you then we're not on the same page.”

His heart shook like his world could crumble at any moment. “Don't leave.”

“I have to,” you grabbed his arms and accepted it. “So you can find the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re the woman of my dreams.”

You chuckled sadly, “You hate me, Kook. You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“No, I don’t want anyone else.”

You brushed his cheek, committing that sweet touch to memory. “You’ll be happy. It’s okay.”

“No,” he gripped you firmly, wrapping his arms around your waist instead. “Don’t leave.”

“Why would I stay?”

“Because I don’t hate you. I can’t,” his voice trembled with tears that didn’t flow down his cheeks, but down yours. “I hate myself for not being able to, for pretending, for even trying when I’m so—”

His voice blocked and you reached for him. “Say it… Please say it, don’t hold back,” your plea shook in your voice and you gripped his shoulders tighter. “If you don’t say it, then I won't know what to believe anymore—”

“Fuck,” he closed his eyes, fighting to the last moment all those conflicting emotions within him. But then you nuzzled his nose, holding him closer. Waiting. You weren’t leaving this time until everything was said and done, and he almost burst it out. “I can’t. I can’t hate you, I love you. I could never forget you but you left me behind and I fucking hated everything. Because I love you, because I lost you, because I was lost and I still am. What the fuck do I do?”

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not.” He moved away and forced himself to take a deep breath. He turned to you, “You’ll walk out again. I fucked up. We fucked up, but I fucked up. Right? I spent a year trying to hate you, loathing myself for not being good enough. For being so sure you were the one while you discarded me so easily like I was worthless, but I never bothered to hear your side. I never bothered to ask you. You broke my heart… but I broke yours too.”

Your chin was trembling, but you didn’t near him. He seemed to need the space.

“I’m sorry.” He hid his face at your words and your tears treaded down again. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you, I was stupid and immature, and you’re right. I knew my heart was staying here with you, I should have tried to reach out and make it clearer. I knew I hurt you, and after I left, I knew you'd hate me. I should have gotten over myself and told you how I felt anyway. Then maybe I wouldn’t have tried to look for you in everyone else or stayed hung up on thoughts of you and—” He chuckled but it was laced with pain and you shook your hands, “No, I’m not blaming you!”

“I know,” he revealed his face, with red swollen eyes, and wet cheeks. “I’m blaming myself. I spent so long trying to hate you, blaming you for everything under the sun in stupid attempts to make it hurt less. I’m an idiot. And an asshole. Look at how I treated you. I can’t face you without hating my fucking stupidity—”

“Ours,” you stepped forward, hesitant to touch him but with your hands raised nonetheless. “If you want to hate something, then—”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in, “I won’t pretend to hate you anymore.”

“Then don’t hate yourself either,” you asked as he took your hand to his lips.

“I’ll try… since it’s you asking.”

Your lips trembled into a smile at the way he was gently brushing his lips to your hand. “I’m happy we talked about it. I’m happy to hear that you still have feelings for me though I wouldn’t want to assume—”

“Assume.”

You stayed quiet, hesitantly looking into his brown eyes as he sprinkled kisses on your knuckles.

“Jungkook—”

“Assume, bubbles.” You pressed your trembling lips and he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, “Assume that I love you and don’t want you to leave.”

Your heart was shaking; you were hoping, but— “Are you sure?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, “I’m sure. I just don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s so much we need to talk about.”

His eyes were pleading and you squeezed his hand, “If you could forgive me, that would be a great start.”

He sighed, “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Yourself?”

“Slightly more complicated.”

You smiled, “Same.” You stayed quiet just looking at each other when you decided to tell him, “I wish we could… forgive our mistakes and restart. We could get to know each other again. See if… If it would work.”

“You don’t think it would?”

You supported his hand on your cheek, “I think we still love each other.” He held your gaze and you felt your cheeks burning under his touch, “But maybe that also means it will be difficult to heal our wounds.”

He nodded calmly, observing your face. “Do you… hate me? For what I did? For never replying to you or fighting for you.”

“No,” you instantly reassured him. “I thought you made a decision and that you wanted to move on from me. That’s a rejection, but that's life. You didn’t cheat or lie or anything like that.”

He sighed, “That’s true… maybe that’s why I could never truly hate you either.”

You couldn’t help a smile, “We… We’re both idiots.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist closer, “A mistake. It was all a mistake.” He pursed his lips for a moment, then brushed your hair gently behind your ear, “Your ‘no’... you never meant forever?”

You grinned, “No. Though I don't need a ring around my finger to know who I belong to. Do you?”

“Who do you belong to?”

You smirked playfully, “I think you know him.”

He sighed and let you brush your fingers around his neck in an attempt to tickle him before lacing your arms around his neck.

“I would have waited,” he finally said, seeing closely how your smile wavered and your eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t drop everything to go with you, but I would have definitely made it work and visited you whenever I could.”

Your lips trembled and you tried to contain your cry, but your tears won. He pulled you to hide in the crook of his neck and you squeezed him inside your arms.

“Are you… going back?” He realized he didn’t know. “Or are you staying? In Seoul?”

“I got a position here, I’m starting next month.”

He sighed in relief. “I want to try,” his voice was close as he supported your head and leaned over your ear. “Us. I want to try.”

Shivers ran down your spine as you pressed him to you. “Me too.”

[the-monkeies-girl]

Snow Kissed Skin. ( Ceasar x Human! Reader, POTA Oneshot. )

A prequel to Flame Kissed Skin. Part of the Touching their Fur for the first time series. Up next: Noa.

Title: Snow Kissed Skin. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Implied! Caesar x Human!Reader. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications but nothing too heavy here. ) Words: 5.7K+ Summary: You wanted to know what Ape Fur felt like and Caesar always seemed to be around during these times to cure your curiosity.

READ IT ON AO3.

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It truly felt like your fingers were going to pop off despite their proximity to the blazed bonfire. Cupped lightly with wool mittens that you had scavenged shortly after the Flu, one of your most prized possessions as they never lost each other in all their years, the swirling of the colors of purples and grays fuzed together with a fuzzy outline were captivating enough to keep your attention focused so you didn't move your feet and slide down the rocks face first.

Or back first depending if you were quick enough to catch yourself. That would… Not be fun to see, you imagined and cringed at the visual inside of your mind of your butt parading down and carving your backside with cold snow as you let out shrieking screams.

Peering over your left shoulder at the rested perch above the Colony’s communal area, there was nothing to see. You figured. With no official business to attend to on the snowy afternoon you found yourself dancing in, there was really no need for a council meeting. You doubted that Caesar… Would think it was very impressive to see you fall as you were careful to turn your head back forward at the lack of Apes for you to meet glances with.

Well… Shoulders rose and fell deeply. Really, only one you wanted to capture a glance with. Only one you had bigger intrigue in since he was the one to allow you to stay with the Colony when you were found, half beaten to death four months ago. 

Tugging the disappointment away from your chest that began to blister, you looked beyond the bonfire at the weather itself that seemed to bend around the flames, snowflakes melting before they ever got the chance to kiss the ground. You liked the snow, it was not common in the area as it often favored sleeted rain that made everything slick with abundant moisture and not icey capsules. The cold on the other hand?

You could take it or leave it, considering your small hut did not have a firepit of its own. To no fault of anyone in the Colony, your home was originally a storage hut that was repurposed for your stay with them due to your Humanness, wanting to stay on the ground and not be suspended in air in the nests that lined around the cliff face. 

Maybe you’d have to talk to someone about getting yourself a fire, that would require though the entire ceiling to be repurposed for the ashes and plume to escape and building was not something you were particularly great at either. Getting better! Since you started living with the Apes, but still… You were just a Human and never had the knack to do such a thing. It was surely a chance of fate that you managed to survive years after the Flu, never taking solace in other Human Camps and stayed out of the way as sickness that plagued the world ravaged empathy and heart and they so often turned on each other out of spite and amusement. 

Not here… The Apes--- The Colony were welcoming to you when Caesar decided to let you stay and for that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere. Well… Most of them were, save for a Bonobo and a few of his Chimp pals that catered to his words of hatred.

That--- Was something that left you with a metallic taste in your mouth but their King was assuring and let you know that Koba would never do anything malicious towards you and would personally see to a punishment if that were the case.  Biting your bottom lip, you nibbled at it tentatively and attempted to keep your mind occupied until you got cold enough in the element to return to your hut and scavenge into your animal hides for the evening.

It was hard to not notice the lack of bustling today considering the Colony was usually so full of life with Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Orangutans and Gorillas shoulder to shoulder, eager to get things done for the improvement of their lives, but today? A well deserved break for all of them, your eyes fell shut and enjoyed the sensation of the heat against the thin skin, eyelashes tickling along your cheekbones.

Most of the Apes were bundled in their own homes with each other… How you wished to have that with someone. No one in particular, you tried to convince your train of thought from derailing towards Caesar once more and shuffled your shoulders a bit to cover the bits of your wrist that had popped out to the chilled air.

You probably looked crazy to them in your oversized jacket, layered atop a fleece sweater you managed to score a few years ago when the Winters started to turn for the worst, pink head cap that had to have been a child's but you managed to make it work against your flattened hair and a pair of sturdy cargo pants paired with your usual worn boots.

There were a few you spotted in your time standing in unwavering wait, never for Ape King in particular but… For something to do. Someone to talk to… It was a pack of two Chimps and three Bonobo’s who wanted to take a jab at what you would call ice fishing and you watched in amusement as they departed the front entrance of the Colony with their spears, their dark bodies becoming smaller and smaller until they disappeared in the white flurries between the trees.

They had fur, you knew that and gave a brisk smile to the fire in front of you as your gaze slotted open once more. Jealousy was not fitting to you but the idea of having a built in coat instead of having to layer seemed so nice… A luxury even but something tickled the back of your brain that you had no basis for.

Did… they get cold like you did? Wearing what you were, there was still a frigid aspect in your appendages, your blood felt like it was slowly taking its time running its course through your body and to the very tips of your fingers and toes. You’d never been allowed to touch an Ape before, you’d only admired the fur from afar when Caesar was near.

It seemed to thicken the last few months, but it was still evident in certain frames he put his broad body into that you were able to see the mild sheen of his skin underneath. So, not entirely covered, it beckoned you to answer it. Temptation yearned at your hands and trudged into your mind. Did… They get cold?

You caught hold of a bit of commotion from the direction of the horse paddock, not difficult in the silence that seemed to drain from the Heavens like the white snowfall. Recognizing the grunting as Luca’s, you slid your gawk curiously over and feasted upon the three bodies that you were able to admire. Such a Human tactic, prying into business that wasn’t yours but… Wasn’t that what Apes did?

They had very little semblance of personal space or even privacy; something you carried in your mind but it was hard not to take in some drama here and there when it was allowed. Rocket, Luca as you had figured and… Caesar. Hands were flying and capturing small flakes of snow between words, Rocket and Luca saying something to each other with flying hands before Caesar only nodded a slight departure. 

Nothing to be learned from that, you creased your eyebrows in and watched as the intimidating gait of the King himself came into a clearer view from the corner of your eye as you were adamant to ensure that he had not known you were looking for him, let alone staring. Caesar knew; it was something innate in the back of his mind when there was a set of eyes on him that were not meant to be at the time and more often than not lately, it was your glance that he would meet in the middle of a crowd. In the middle of his own people, there was a shift in Caesar only recently that tugged in the lower aspects of his desire to find companionship.

Human or Ape. You were interesting none-the-less and it was obvious in how he was looking at you upon his adamant approach. What… You were doing out in the weather, he had no idea. There was amusement scratching inside of his mind that you were waiting for him but that was not plausible as he saw the flushing of your cheeks, scorned red from the heat of the fire. You were warming yourself up and that was more of an obtainable answer to the Ape King.

Catching your breath in your throat at his stance as he came beside you, it was hard not to see the splaying of his toes against the slicken nature of the stone below, leaving heady imprints of his larged feet in the virgin snow. It was admirable as you were sure that if you moved with such a confident swagger, you’d be tumbling straight down the Colony’s slope and rear through the front gates on your back. 

“I-...” You huffed, watching the air escape your lungs as evident in the air in a white thrust of dust in front of your face. Swallowing hard, you shut your mouth and attempted to lubricate your dried throat and laughed slightly at your sudden onset of nerves. Caesar stared at you from his peripheral, mind cogging in on itself out of a desire to know what was going on inside of your own. Humans… They were expressive, the Ape thinks to himself but you?

You had this knack of covering up adverse emotions around him and it was frustrating. Fear? There was no way to tell. Intimidation? No way to deduce. Amusement? Maybe, he was able to smell your scent, vivid and natural as it was in his flared nostrils as he sneezed a snowflake away from being carded into his nose. Caesar drew a deep breath in, feeling the heat of the chill against his diaphragm like a blister against the muscles as you finally spoke. 

“Never seen snow here before. My grandpa… Used to talk to me about it. I guess back in… The day it snowed. Sometime in the 1970’s there was a big ol’ blizzard and it left the Bay pretty covered.”

“Ape… Adapt.” Caesar’s statement was clear and concise as if it were rehearsed. “Fur… Gets thick… in the Winter Months.” “Must be nice,” You smiled shyly, bringing the bottom half of your face into the collar of your jacket and kissed at the hem for a moment. Caesar watched with carded interest, snow falling against your lips and with a heated smooch, it was gone into condensed water and slid down the curve. “It’s hard now to find winter clothes that work. Most of the stuff I have is really old and falling apart. This jacket,” Holding your hand up, you waved the excess fabric around where you tucked your hand in on the arm of your garment. “Was a good find. I’d freeze to death without it, especially at night. Even without the snow it gets really cold----” “You do not… Have a fire.” That was not a question, more of a blanketed statement as it finally dawned upon him the inconsideration of not accommodating that. Hard to remember, he was quick to rationalize that and buried the desire to apologize for his lack of thought. Humans were weak with the cold. They had no fur. You--- Had none, Caesar drew another deep breath in at the consistent bugging in his brain that buzzed an urge to feel your skin against his bare and heated hand. Then, he’d be able to keep you warm himself… 

You had no resources any more to help other than layers like what was being displaying for him today, despite the displeasure in the innate fact that Caesar was unable to see the drifting of your breathing under such thick fabrics and it seemed as if your scent itself that was so warm and inviting was mildly dimmed too and washed with moisture that clung in the air. “Will…Take care… of that for you.”

“Soon?” You replied teasingly and earned yourself a rather stern stare from Caesar who huffed once more, a few more snowflakes making their home against his flattened nose. Cartoonishly shaped, it was one aspect of his otherwise striking face, burled and strong with the casing of his thickened fur around his features that appeared more delicate. The skin seemed slightly discolored around the bridge as well as less wrinkled than the rest of his face and you wanted to brush your fingertips along it to see if that was truly the case. 

Nodding his assent, Caesar peered at the sweeping of the bonfire and was able to feel the heavy heat coming onto his bare skin beneath the layers of his darkened fur. There, he understood the premise of why you were standing so barren by yourself. No fire in your hut, no other way to keep warm than to stand by the biggest of the fires that the Colony had to offer. He could… Offer you his own. 

No other reason other than the roof overhead to stop the drift of snow catapulting against your body and you’d adequately be able to warm yourself then. You’d even be allowed to stay the evening until Caesar worked something out with River, Ash and his own Son to fix the issue of your lacking blazed abode.

Would you… be accepting of that at all, if Caesar were to offer you to stay with him for only a night? Caesar hated to tear into the more Human nature of his thinking, it was years he went without speaking to one, without the pulling want to feel the reminiscent melancholy of his past and it was challenging to put himself into that mindset now.

Human Females were more sensitive and prone to embarrassment, you’d deny if he asked you to come stay with him and you’d most likely not even look him in the eye with your declining answer. 

Human Males would think nothing of the invitation. Will’s smile flashed in front of Caesar’s line of vision. Sitting atop in the attic, staring at the slated cold rain as it fell and his own young fingers playing with the condensation on his window that formed from the proximity of his hot body---.

“Do you ever get cold?” 

Caesar was torn out of thinking, his eyes focusing back in upon the rapture your voice brought him along with the fluttering beat of his heart against his rib cage due to the mixed exhilaration of opening the door of his past and the more animalistic tear that struck at the base of his neck at the prospect of taking you back to his nest and slotting his larger frame against yours. All in the sake of keeping you warm, he’d justify it as his teeth sank into your neck. All to keep you… Hot.

There was a small plume of chill evident in the air as you spoke, cascading against your line of vision as you looked at Caesar who appeared to be ice-caped now, your stare unable to tell what was his naturally graying fur versus snow caught between the small hairs of his fur coat. 

To see the fluffy nature of the flakes catering themselves against the very cusped outline of Caesar’s body was a masterpiece. His fur caught it… At least it appeared to before it leaked into his skin, somewhat water resistant in its own right and it was hard to pretend that the snow melting against his body heat wasn’t turning into small droplets of silver either to be casted to the ground below or to freeze against the tips of his nearly blackened coat.

Each of the white specks, individual and loved, seemed to highlight just how dark his coat truly was and how dense it appeared against the scape of his skin. Crunching below your weight rested an inch or two of white crisped and virginal snow that fell inwards with your steps as you allotted yourself to stand next to the imposing Ape King. 

Caesar looked at your mouth momentarily, liking the way that your breath was clear for him to see instead of having to rely on the rising and falling of your shoulders as was usually the case. Had you… He tilted his head only minutely, something that was not detectable to your eyes as you reached a fabric clad hand and wiped some flakes that were kissing your cheek away from minored annoyance against your already chilled skin. Had you truly never felt an… Ape’s fur before so you lacked the answer to that question? 

Surely, Caesar thought to himself and felt a deep rumble come from the bowels of his chest. Not bemusement in the slightest, but it cracked with ardent hilarity in the chortle that followed. From the look on his face, it appeared as if you asked a stupid question and you felt mildly scolded.

It… was a pretty stupid question to ask, obviously they got cold otherwise most of the Ape families would not be spending their afternoon in the homes in favor of braving the weather like you were so stupidly doing. His brow line rested endearingly against the stare of gold and green, the only color it seemed in the monochromatic backdrop that the snow eclipsed the Colony in with its silent fall. 

“Have you not felt… fur before?” “Sure,” You stammered, feeling heat rise between your legs to shatter along the vertebrae of your spine. It danced itself against the back of your skull, uncomfortable like you had bugs crawling in your hair under your winter cap. It was a question you had a ready answer to, expecting the blunted nature of the inquiry from a mile away. Caesar was like that; brash and willing to take what it took to get his point across, sometimes even to the point of acute and aggravated awkwardness on your part.

Maybe that’s what you found so attractive about him, your bottom lip drew itself between your teeth and you pensively nibbled at the flesh. Other than outward appearances that you found… Appealing…

  “I have plenty of animal pelts I was given when I first---” “Ape Fur.” Caesar corrected himself quickly, hoping it didn't come across as too aggressively forward, “Have not… Felt… Ape?” “O-Oh…” Nodding, you laughed awkwardly into the collar of your jacket and shook your head minutely, something the Ape King noticed as he himself nodded in understanding to your silent answer. “Uh… I’ve ne-never really been close to one before.” Your voice was cracking around the edges and you prayed to whatever God there was that it was not detectable from the shackling of the fire. 

“I mean, not that I wouldn’t like to be!” Were did that come from? W… Were you flirting? Your mind yelled and pulled in on itself as your cheeks deepened a shade not from the warmth of the fire, unable to look towards the Chimp who was so focused on the profile of your expression, trying to discern what you were rambling on about. “I didn't mean it like that--- I just…”

Groaning, you turned your attention back towards the fire rather than the broad body of the Ape beside you. “No. I’ve never… Felt… Your kind of fur before. Is it different than…” Racking your brain through the hides you had in your hut, you rested on one animal that you thought was a fair comparison, “Bear?”

“Not as… thick.” It was clear in the cadence of his words that Caesar paused to think of the correct adjective to use. It was always easier for him to sign his thoughts, speaking was only second nature with you. “O-Oh…” There it was again, that amusing plume of white around your face with your exaltation, Caesar watching with bated amusement as it faded closer to your forehead and you laughed slightly, shuffling your feet as you felt your toes becoming numb. This time… You were unsure if you’d be able to blame that solely on the cold or if the nerves had become too great to handle and the nerve endings in your body were flaring as an attempt to get out of the situation you found yourself in. “So you do get cold?” Caesar shifted his brow just slightly as he looked at you and posed the foreboding question that was always going to plague this conversation, “You would… like to feel?”

“No---”

“You may if you… Would like.” The overlaying of your lying denial with Caesar’s impressive acceptance of your curiosity tangled in your mind and replayed itself a few times. It left you feeling reeling as you processed and looked down at your feet, bringing your right foot forward and crunching down on the snow that resided there and scarred it with a half imprint of your boot. “I-I don’t want to feel like… You’re only doing this because---” “You should… Know if you are to live as one of us.” 

Your eyebrows creased at that, wild implications running rampant in the words that Caesar chose to use. You had never been one to doubt your position in the Colony, you were just a Human. Sometimes, it felt like you were a pet of sorts when you did something so strikingly Human and it garnered stares. Never once had the idea of becoming one of them by proxy cross your racing mind as you looked towards Caesar and finally captivated him in a dance with your full expression. With the ambient orange glow of the fire against the backdrop of the slaten white, you appeared confused at first until the Ape was properly able to see the creasing of your eyebrows and the slight drawing of your mouth upwards. There was no attempt to stop the frozen hackles lined against Caesar’s broad shoulders from rising out of anticipation as you pulled your hands out from the enclosure they were in, tugging at the mitten of your right that were condensing heat against the digits. Caesar admired the way your small fingers came into view, splaying themselves against the hardened cold breeze, sweat that was playing at his nose from between them all too enticing as you shoved the mitten into the crevice of your jacket pocket. 

Once again as you did out of nervousness, you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down hard, the pink skin turning momentarily the same hue as the crisped snow and Caesar held a hand out for your stability as you shuffled towards him to close the gap of less than a meter that was placed between you. Staring at the motion, you likened to the flakes that fell against his hot skin and melted upon impact. 

The pure white against the darkened flesh that had seen its share of demise and loss, the pull that his thick fingers had on you as you reached your hand out, accepting the help so you did not slip on the ice so you could readjust properly to touch him. All things, your mind needed to remind itself, were things done out of consideration of your nature. Not because of the attraction that flurried between Caesar’s eyes and your Lightly, the woolen nature of your left hand placed itself into the leathered drench of his palm and you peered at your feet as you twisted. There was irrational intimacy. There were no other Apes around and even with the blizzard of the flurries, would they actually be able to see anything as you released Caesar’s hand with a small smile of a ‘thank you’ and stared at his shoulder. So… You were just supposed to… Touch him? Apes… did not have the same attitude towards personal space, this was probably something as normal as breathing to them… Something as normal as sleeping… Gesturing your hand forward, it hesitated mid-air.

What if you touched him too familiarly? What if Caesar did not like the way you held him? Why would that matter!? The ration side of your brain dragged you back to your senses. There was nothing here other than an Ape wanting to expand your horizons to see them as not threats, but as a Family you had been accepted into without your explicit knowledge. Not that you had ever seen them as threats, your gaze softened as you broke the barrier of frost that was lining against his furred shoulder. 

Caesar resisted the temptation to release an exaltation and in return drew a headied breath inwards and let it linger in his lungs. He had not felt this… For so long, the running of another set of hands against his body out of disputed pleasure on both parties; disputed in his own way but not so much against yours as he was able to detect the change of your scent that was muffled. Amused… Arousal, juxtaposed and playing deliciously against each other.  

Not since Cornelia, Caesar resisted the urge to drop his eyes into a flattened state of vulnerability. Not since her passing, it never seemed appropriate to take in the minor delectation of what Caesar had been missing for nearly eight years now. It felt new. The way your hand shattered the tiny ice particles and drudged into the deepest core of his thickened coat, still thinned you realized compared to a bear's hide, Caesar had not been wrong in that aspect at all. It was incredibly coarse towards the fur line against his skin, softening as it draped inches outwards.

It was a ridiculing texture, beckoning into the primal part of your mind that it was all for show and that Caesar felt the way he did in order to draw you in. And you were drinking it up like it was water, metal shavings to a magnetic force of great power.

How sickly marveled you must have looked to him as you stammered a foot forward to get more as if your hungry hand was not already devouring everything it had wanted for the last month when the attraction to the Ape King sprang into your consciousness. It was so nice; the way that the coarse hairs tickled at your skin, the wallop of tufted mane rose and fell as you put forth a sweeping motion back and forth to study. Not a pet in the slightest, Caesar’s green and golden eyes flickered to the action you placed forth and released the tension of air he had held in. 

This time, it was your gawk that got to admire the way that the air dissipated from his thinned mouth in a crest of iridescent white near his face. Nearer than you had thought as you were able to feel the hotness on your expression. Caesar was more enjoyable than the stagnant and cold bear pelt you had as you could feel the high temperature of his skin right under your finger pads. 

“It---” You tilted your head to the side in wonderment as you grasped a handful and let it sink between your fingers. If Caesar was pained at all by the sensation of your pull, he did not show it as he was still as could be, perhaps a bit softened in his expression as his eyes hooded at the delicacy it was to be… Touched so affectionately. Human… Touches were different, the Chimpanzee decided. They were different, the muscle bounced in reaction to being touched as you brought your hand back to play against the grain of which his fur naturally grew, you were different with your grazes and Caesar wanted more. 

“It’s not as thick, you’re right.” That was said half-heartedly, needing to verbalize something in the moment to tear yourself away from taking your other mitten off and absolutely ravaging against his entire body. You wanted nothing more.

“As… I told you.” Caesar’s voice only waved around the edges, not detectable to your ears but it was racking against his own eardrums. A moment of seeped weakness at being touched. “So you do get cold?” 

You asked once again, looking at the King with slight cross eyes due to the proximity of which you held yourself against his commandeering stance. You could feel the tiny vibrations of his fur as it rose on reflex as your fingertips finally made more adamant contact with the muscles that draped below. Instantaneous it felt, the reaction and you found it difficult to pull away from the notion that Caesar was allowing you this pleasure in the first place. 

He was strong, your eyes ample at the back of your hand. Stronger than… you had thought, the muscles he carried against his bones were dense and hard, but how strong was he? Would Caesar be able to pick you up like you were nothing? Would he be able to snap your neck if you so desired him to do so? Maybe if you were lucky, he’d do just that. Maybe if you were bold enough and tugged at the fur in your possession would Caesar snap and take you---

In your touch that began moving with more intentions rested all of these questions, your mouth parting as you exhaled harshly in time with Caesar as he blew out of his nostrils; his own desperate attempt to keep his own questions at bay. Would you be willing to touch him harder, more fervently? Would you want to touch the fur on other parts of his body?

Against his chest, he’d let you run your hands down against the abs that were fleece lined and only noticeable at certain angles. Your stares during those times that Caesar caught you staring confirmed you were at least interested in feeling, or so he figured and kept to himself. Your scent at those moments in time told Caesar you wanted more than you were getting, or maybe he was running away with the idea out of piqued loneliness. 

What was he meant to think? What was the Chimp meant to feel? That tugging in the bottom of his stomach that danced downwards to flare against his pelvic bone. So Human by design it was, the urge to consummate out of a winded impulsed fun instead of primal desire to mate out of necessity.  Would you revel in feeling the hardening of his muscles and maybe even more if you so chose?

“Yes.” 

Was the response that was as simply put as anything else, Caesar’s tone nothing more than a rambling baritone caressing the innermost parts of your ears as if he were speaking directly into the shell below that body part. There was no need to complicate the matter. There was no need for Caesar to cure your morbid curiosity. There was no bridge that needed to be made as you swallowed hard, feeling the stiffening of your esophagus with that.

There were no others around to concrete the gap between Humans and Apes and it was resting on you now, your arm pulling itself back into your body as you squeezed your fingers together out of unspoken cravings that finally came to fruition. “It-It keeps you warm enough  though, right?” Caesar rolled his shoulder. Not to be taken as offensive, he was unsure of how to process the sensation of your hand print drilling into his skin now that he had gotten a small taste of it. Never again unless you were Mated. This was only to show you. To demonstrate and to satisfy your questions. You would perhaps touch another, his stomach churned in on itself out of unfamiliar jealousy. Caesar had no coping mechanism for that in itself ugly entirety. With the acceptance of you as part of the Colony, you were free to choose whom you wished and there had to be acceptance of that. There was nothing here other than Caesar’s want to help you understand Apes. Caesar’s… thirst to help you understand himself…  

Adjacently dilated eyes met yours as you felt all the air leave your body at once and the warmth that Caesar’s fur had blessed your hand with left you feeling chilled from the intensity of his stare, “Most… of the time.”

“And when it doesn’t?” “Ape… Learn to deal.” Caesar’s voice was once again a low grumble from deep in his chest, your gaze falling to the scar that lined his right pectoral and as you shoved your hand back into the homely hug of your mitten, scorned forever knowing that you knew how he felt, you wanted more. You wanted… To touch him there, downward…

Down his thick waist and against the pelvic bone. Pressing there would be a delight, you wondered how Caesar would react. Down his proportionally shorter legs and then back upwards against the grain of his fur and torturous with your intended languid pace. You wanted it all, feeling emptiness against your palm as it kissed the wool mitten. “Harder… for Humans to adapt. Harder to… Deal.”

“Unless you let me borrow your fur, then I don’t think I’ll be much use during the Winter then.” 

You muttered shamelessly, unsure if your voice came out as confident as it sounded in your mind. Unsure if your words even made sense to the Ape who had very little concept of flirting, let alone subtle flirting. It was reckless you knew. It was fruitless, no doubt.

But there was a tiny lingering shock of electricity that even Caesar could not deny when you broke set standards you both abided by day in and day out by letting the inquiry of the unknown come to light. You were riding on that as you peered at him, watching the crease form between his brows as Caesar ran through your words a few times to understand the deeper meaning. 

Caesar huffed at last as it hit him with cognition, looking towards your neck and seeing the very base from under the collar of your jacket and sweater. It beat quickly for him. Hardened and paced to please as was the way it felt against his navel. It lingered painstakingly and unfamiliar for him,  “Will… Build your hut a fire first. Then… See if you truly need my fur above all else.”

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 011 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. getting drunk. physical violence.

notes. @sunasbabie bullied me into updating so here it is. alsoo the start of suna’s downfall arc???

wc. 11.8k

series masterlist 

[ ELEVEN ] I care, I care, I care like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin’, hidden in plain sight. ooh I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life. I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear

Rintaro had known from a very young age he was different.

He had brothers, quite a number of them, and yet even when everyone had their own maids and butlers, Rintaro stuck out like a sore thumb. For one, they were strictly not allowed to call him by his name. He was never Rintaro – always His Highness or Crown Prince. He was never allowed to play with his brothers, either, despite being close in age to most of them. Instead, he stood watching from the windows of his study as they frolicked and lived like normal boys. They attended school, played sports, made friends – the normal way of living, even for Princes. But Rintaro wasn’t like that. Her Majesty had different expectations for him. That because he was the only son of the King and Queen, he simply had to be better than the rest.

No, he had to be the best, and he believed it at some point.

Until Her Majesty announced it was about time he learned some ‘proper socializing’ into society. She’d enrolled him in the same private academy as his brothers, got chauffeured to and fro, and was expected to give nothing but the best of grades when he returned. It sounded simple enough – study, excel, and prepare himself for the throne.

No one had warned him that high school came with other unexpected surprises, one that came in the form of a brown eyed beauty he’d been eyeing since his first day.

Her name was Iris – top of the class, all long, lean legs, and a mop of long, wavy hair. It was hard not to notice her. She was popular, in the way that everyone asked her for her notes, and you could trust her to whisper the correct answer when you’d been called to recite in the middle of the class. An academic overachiever, a teacher’s pet – they all had some sort of name for her. A stickler for the rules, too, always appropriately dressed and speaking in polite, clipped tones. She spoke in a manner elders would love, and Rintaro found that fact rather endearing. He wasn’t a great reader of people, but he could tell one thing: Iris was not her true self.

Her smile might be respectful, but something about the way her lips twitched when being told what to do gave him an idea that perhaps she wasn’t as obedient as she made herself to be. And she was always helping others, putting others before herself, but she never did it looking satisfied.

Rather, it seemed that her actions always stemmed from one thing: obligation.

Iris was not who she is because it was her, down to her nature, but because she felt she had to be. It was such a quality Rintaro resonated with. To deny oneself, and to put duty and order first. They both walked with stiffness in their shoulders, with the weight of the world on their heads. They were simply too young to be caring about such. And Rintaro found it unfair – how they’d been deprived of their right to normalcy and had a future they never even wanted shoved down their throats. He couldn’t speak entirely for her, of course.

They had entirely different backgrounds – with Iris as a foreign scholar, who had to work twice as hard to prove she was worthy as any local, and then there was Rintaro, who couldn’t really tell which parts of him were himself, or fabricated by the throne.

They were both young people who lied to themselves. And strangely enough, he found comfort in that. He found comfort in her. He felt less alone when she was around, and she’d definitely made her presence known. Whether it be slipping notes into his desk and walking away without a word, or sharing her milkbread with him during lunch – which he found hilarious, yet cute – or when she simply made the effort to get to know him.

Not the Crown Prince, but Rintaro.

She began to ask things about himself that he’d never thought of before. Like what his favorite food was – he blanked out, because he wasn’t supposed to be picky with food, so he just ate anything. Or what his favorite game was, and sometimes, she’d even asked him to teach her, even if bringing cell phones in class were prohibited.

She made him feel like a real person. She didn’t treat him specially; she didn’t swoon or fall to her feet when he entered a room. She spoke to him normally, treated him like a friend when no one would dare call him as such.

To her, he was just Rintaro. He could just be. And before he’d realized it, he began to look for her – in the hallways, watching her talk to her friends, or being curious on what snacks she brought so he could buy some for her next time, or intentionally trying to get partnered with her on any project.

But he hadn’t fallen for her.

Not until that day they’d rain poured over them unexpectedly, and they retreated under the nearest tree. Class had long been dismissed, and pretty much everyone had left – save for the two of them due to a late tutoring session. Rintaro struggled with English, but Iris was great at everything. And it was also a good excuse to spend more time together.

“You know, you’re different from what I expected,” Iris spoke, tilting her head up to catch some raindrops falling from the leaves with the tip of her finger. “When they said the Crown Prince was going to attend class, I figured you would be more… uptight. Strict. Or, you know, perhaps more arrogant than your brother.”

Rintaro fought the urge what she thought of him now. He’d become curious about it lately, unhealthily so. He wanted her to like him, to think positively of him – to be more than just ‘handsome’ or ‘charming’ or ‘regal.’ Because he most definitely wasn’t regal around her. He could be more himself, which is why he slouched, learned to smoke, longed for a tattoo, and even learned how to curse. Because he wasn’t Crown Prince Rintaro. He was just a normal high school student, Rin. Rin who stood under a tree while rain poured heavily against the pavement, next to a pretty girl who wore strawberry flavored chapstick and introduced him to a world he never imagined he could be part of.

If she had said he was regal, and well-mannered, he would’ve taken offense. But he didn’t ask, turning his gaze away from the way Iris leaned back against the damp tree and pulled out a cigarette. Even the way she smoked had him fascinated because it meant as a sign of trust to him.

The good, perfect student Iris was no longer perfect around him. She trusted him enough to let her guard down, and reveal her flaws. She had no need to impress him. In return, it made him want to impress her by mimicking her habits – even if he would’ve never dared doing them before.

“I have a lot of arrogant brothers. Which one are you talking about?”

“The ridiculously tall and talkative brunette in our year.”

“Tooru,” he said, gladly accepting when she offered him a stick. He didn’t light it though, because he was on his way home and didn’t want to reek of smoke. Well, if he was to be completely honest, he hated smoking. He didn’t like the way it burned his throat and made it itchy. But Iris smoked often, and she revealed more about herself each time she did, so he joined her. Everything he did was for her.

“Iris, why do you speak so casually to me?”

She shrugged and puffed out a smoky breath. “You just looked lonely. And everyone treats you like you’re fragile – always stumbling over their words or being excessively polite. I can tell it makes you uncomfortable, so… But if you truly mind, I can stick to the formalities. I just thought you might want someone to treat you like a normal person.”

“No, I-I don’t mind,” he reassured, “I like that you speak to me normally.”

“So, friends?”

He chuckled at that, and he didn’t stop her when she took out her lighter and lit her cigarette for him. He supposed one couldn’t hurt. “We have been friends for months now.”

“I know,” she beamed, “I’m just waiting to be invited over to your fancy Palace for tea parties.”

“I don’t even like tea.”

“Shame. I would’ve killed for some expensive drinks.”

And so their unexpected friendship began until they were practically attached to the hip. Wherever Iris went, Rintaro followed. She’d started calling him ‘Rin’ too, and Rin had to hide how much he liked it. He blushed madly each time he did, and it didn’t help that Iris had become more physically comfortable with him – locking arms together when they walked in the hallway, absentmindedly brushing his bangs back during their tutoring sessions, or laying on his lap when she had a book to read as they hid in the corner of the library. Each touch of her skin against his sent heat to his groin. It embarrassed him, because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his ‘friend’ like that, but could you blame him? He was a growing teenager. He wasn’t immune to a pretty girl’s subtle touches.

“You know, you can make it less obvious that you’re staring at the scholar.”

Glancing away from Iris playing volleyball with her friends, Rintaro glared at his brother. He shared classes with Tooru, but otherwise barely spoke to him. Tooru was too loud and confident; a little flashy for his liking. He also basked in the attention he received from the girls, shamelessly flirting with them and getting their hopes up.

Rintaro thought he was an ass.

“Shut up.”

“Well, well, can you believe that? I believe the Crown Prince just uttered a vulgar phrase that would surely displease Her Majesty. I wonder if she’ll ground you tonight for being such a naughty Prince.”

Rintaro glared at him, gesturing to Tooru’s childhood friend lurking in the corner. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like reject that poor girl showering you with gifts again?”

Tooru sighed, and upon seeing Maiko’s face light up when he looked her way, he bid his farewell. “Don’t remind me.”

His brother suddenly disappeared. He almost felt bad for Maiko, the heiress from the Rai Clan. She grew up having multiple play dates with Tooru, and they’d been close all the way to middle school when she grew a crush on him – a crush nearly bordering on obsession. When she invited him over to play with her new puppy around the ninth grade, Tooru was met with a ten feet portrait of him in her bedroom. Tooru hadn’t spoken to her ever since. But the poor girl was too innocent to understand his rejections, and she kept following him like a lost puppy.

Not that Rintaro was concerned. Neither was his brother concerned with him, anyway, so they stayed out of each other’s way until they graduated.

Sometimes, Rintaro still wished he never graduated at all. Maybe Iris wouldn’t have disappeared, then. She didn’t have a phone, so they couldn’t keep in contact, but even if she did have a phone, Rintaro wouldn’t be allowed to be casually conversing with ‘commoners.’ Her Majesty would hate it. And he wasn’t certain where she went. Perhaps university, but last he’d heard, Iris was occupied with dealing with some family matters, and Rintaro stopped prying. Her family was one of the things Iris never spoke of. But from what little he knew, she only had a loving mother who did her very best to raise her alone.

Rintaro would’ve never expected that when they saw each other again, they would run into one another at the Palace, of all places. “Iris?” he couldn’t believe his eyes. Had he missed her so much he was beginning to hallucinate? “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

Iris looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost couldn’t recognize her. It’d been years since he last saw her and spoke with her, but she seemed entirely different now. She’d gone back to speaking in those forced, clipped tones, her posture perfect, and her smile a little stiff for it to be genuine. She’d been lying again to herself and to the world, but he couldn’t understand why. Rintaro still found it hard to believe that she stood in front of him, draped in lace dresses with the Royal emblem pinned to her right breast in the way royals did.

In the way he did.

“Your Highness,” she said, her tone sweet and airy, as she curtsied. Rintaro felt his stomach twist. This wasn’t the Iris he’d liked for so long. Iris didn’t speak sweetly, or said her words like she treaded on air and had that breathy, ridiculously feminine laugh. Iris’ voice was raspy from constant smoking, and when she spoke, it was always carefree. She never called him by his official title before, so why was she doing it now?

Rintaro couldn’t shake the feeling he was being betrayed.

“You mustn’t have been informed. I’m…”

“Do you serve the crown now?”

“No, no! Not quite in that way,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was then he noticed the ring sitting on her finger. “I was married to your brother last night, my Prince.”

“Which brother?”

“Prince Kiyoomi.”

He felt like his world had been crushed.

He was never a hopeless romantic, but he was learning. She’d taught him what girls liked. And he… he thought she liked him, too. She must have, right? If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be staring at his lips when he talked. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t hold his hand and rub circles along his knuckles when they were alone together in the library. Or had he just fooled himself all this time? Was he really nothing but a friend to her?

Rintaro felt foolish all over again.

He felt like he was seven years old once more, holding back his tears while Her Majesty lashed at the backs of his thighs because he wasn’t able to memorize a clause from the Royal Acts and Commands. He heard the word ‘stupid, idiotic, slow,’ and ‘foolish’ resonating at the study room again, while his tutor shook his head in disappointment. Taking a step back, Rintaro released a shuddering breath. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Surely, she wouldn’t befriend him just to make a fool out of him, but if she did… she would pay. He was the Crown Prince. He would become King. He would punish her, humiliate her and put her in her place if she treated him cruelly – but nothing could have prepared him for Iris stepping forwards, eyes drooping with sultriness as her palms flattened against his chest.

Stepping on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

“But I wish it had been you.”

When she kissed him for the first time, Rintaro knew one thing for certain – she had ruined him for anyone else.

Rintaro isn’t a man quick to anger, but he was getting there.

To leave him for a trip with another man was one thing, but to completely leave him on radio silence was another. A whole week you’ve been gone and not once had you texted. No calls, no voicemails, not even an e-mail. He felt like he had no wife, and quite frankly, your determination to pretend he didn’t exist was getting on his nerves. What had he done wrong, anyway? Hadn’t he been sweet to you before you left? He wasn’t going to deny he made mistakes, but he was putting effort into making it all better. He hadn’t spoken to Iris when you were around. He ignored her, and avoided her even when you weren’t in the same room. And he fucking hated it – because why did you make him feel like he was a cheater when he loved her first?

And now, you were messing with his head. He was certain you were.

Apart from some photographs the paparazzi took of you shopping with Kanami, or sharing lunch with her or having coffee dates, he hadn’t seen you with Kiyoomi. He hadn’t the smallest clue what you were doing. Were you sleeping well? Better without him, maybe? Did you miss him, too, or were you just glad to finally be away from him?

He was going insane with every passing second you didn’t speak to him.

“You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Iris’ voice flittering through the loud noise of the music snapped him back to the present. Right. He was at a party attended by celebrities and models, with liquor in red cups and suspicious leaves and powder being passed to one another – the type of parties a Crown Prince shouldn’t be seen at. But the twins had insisted, claiming he should enjoy himself and ‘do whatever the fuck he wants’ since he didn’t have a wife around to criticize him. He thought it was stupid. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you, but Iris wanted to come along out of boredom – Kiyoomi was away fulfilling their duties for them as mediator between two countries, so she had nothing better to do. Besides, Rintaro figured Iris had been itching for these environments. She’d played the docile and agreeable Princess role for several years now. She must be tired of it, and as soon as she saw the opportunity to let loose and be her true self, she wouldn’t dare let it pass.

And maybe his brothers were right. There was nothing wrong with just taking some time for himself. If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

However, he couldn’t convince himself he enjoyed this party he was in. People were making out at dark corners of the hall, and he was pretty sure there were illegal activities happening tonight. Iris didn’t bat an eye on it. The twins, too, seemed to be enjoying themselves as they flirted with a model he’d seen before, but couldn’t care enough to remember the name of.

“Sorry,” Rintaro said, “I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Is it her? You can’t stop looking at your phone.”

Grimacing, he offered her an apologetic smile. Iris didn’t look jealous, but then again, it was hard to tell under the dim lights, and not when she was hugging her fifth cup of whatever foul-smelling liquor she seemed to indulge in. But neither did he want to offend her by lying, so he slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and feigned disinterest. “She hasn’t texted or called since she left. I have no idea how she’s doing at all,” he glanced at her, “Has Kiyoomi texted you?”

“As if that would happen,” she chugged her drink and gestured to the doors. “Let’s go. I need some fresh air.”

They exited and walked all the way to the balcony. On their way there, Iris hugged his bicep and leant against him, causing the passing by hotel staff to eye them warily. But Iris couldn’t care less, and Rintaro leveled the staff with a warning glare. They should know better than to say anything. Tonight, the world was theirs. Iris was in his arms, as free as they could be, as free as he always hoped, and he swore he wasn’t going to think about you.

With the fresh air kissing his exposed skin, Rintaro immediately felt better. He wasn’t surrounded by the stench of alcohol anymore. He could breathe better here. Leaning against the railings, he and Iris overlooked the Kingdom of Inarizaki laying beneath their feet.

At one point in time, he promised to give all of this to the woman beside him. They’d talked about having children and raising them in the Palace. How they would make great monarchs, and they could finally be powerful while still being free. With them on top of the world, no one could tell them what to do. They could simply be themselves. But just a hundred times better, because Iris would be beside him and sharing the burden of the Crown.

At least, until Rintaro realized none of that felt right.

You were his wife. He didn’t want to share this Kingdom with anyone else but you, although there was a more worrisome voice whispering at the back of his head – Rintaro didn’t want to share you with this world. He wanted to hide you and keep you for himself. He didn’t want you anywhere Kiyoomi, or Tooru. You were his. He was yours. He’s your husband, and you his wife.

You should be the one here with him, and he should be there with you.

Did you feel the same way, too?

Iris lit up a cigarette. Before he could think better of it, he snatched one from her and she lit it up for him, just like she did when they were younger. Her brows rose at his sudden eagerness, “You haven’t smoked since you met her.”

“I didn’t want her to think I smelled.”

“What’s the change?” she teased, “No longer worried she’ll think you reek because you’re married?”

“I just need the distraction.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I’m just worried.” He gritted his teeth, not liking how all of this just felt… wrong. Iris smelled too much of the old perfume she wore when they were teenagers, and it made him nostalgic in the worst kind of possible. Like recalling a childhood memory you thought was great at the time, but growing up completely changes your perspective on it. Rintaro hated it – how he tasted bitterness at something he once craved so much. Worse, he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He didn’t know where his heart was at yet, but something was different.

He desperately wanted to see you.

“I feel like… I feel like she’s going to leave me, Iris. Something’s changed.”

“You’ve changed, Rin,” she snapped, throwing her cigarette on the ground and stomping at it. Rintaro frowned; he’d seen her do it before when they were kids, but seeing her still do it now confirmed his theory: Iris still had her mean temper. She could never hide it even under silk dresses and velvet gloves. “You haven’t been the same since the honeymoon. I feel like we left behind the old you, and the one that came back is someone I barely know.”

Rintaro couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. She was right. He’d changed. He didn’t know why, or how, but maybe he was falling in love. Could he be? No… maybe he just missed you. Maybe he just hated the way you seemed so resigned and distant when you left.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could tell her, because Rintaro was too lost.

“Are you changing your mind about me?”

“No, no. Gods, I would never. I just – I’m confused, okay? She’s mad at me, and she just left. What if she never speaks to me again?”

“She will. She’s your wife.”

“You don’t even speak to your husband,” Rintaro argued, and Iris rolled her eyes. Once, he would’ve found her irritation appealing. But directed at him? He just felt like he was being looked down on.

“That’s different. You know, Rin, if you’ve changed your mind about me, it’s okay. I already knew before this most likely wouldn’t work out, and even if you did become King and legalized divorces, what would happen, then? I’ll be your concubine,” she sneered, as if the mere thought sickened her. “People would reduce me into nothing but a whore. I don’t want to be hated just because I wanted you.”

Rintaro pursed his lips. Sure, the title ‘concubine’ didn’t come with many good meanings. But it was all he could give her. He couldn’t imagine making her his wife. Iris had too much of a temper for that, and with all the pretending and acts she puts on, he didn’t trust her enough to treat his people right when she wielded enough power.

She wasn’t kind like you.

She wasn’t like you.

He knew all of this, had realized it just now, yet he couldn’t bring himself to just go back. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed in defeat. “I’ve already gone this far. It’s a little too late to tell me to change my mind, you know?”

“I’m just reminding you this was your choice, not mine. And don’t forget if you do legalize divorces, and Kiyoomi and I did separate, does that mean you’ll divorce her, too?”

He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I’m not a whore, Rin. I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to be just your sidepiece, your secret lover. I have been here with you before people even acknowledged your existence. I was here first. Don’t you think it’s unfair she gets to have you in all your glory and I can only have you in secret? Like what we feel for each other is something to be ashamed of,” tears pricked at her eyes, and Iris angrily wiped them away. Rintaro was frozen to his spot. He didn’t even feel like reaching to wipe them for her – his mind was just in a different place entirely. His exhaustion ran bone deep.

“If you want me to divorce Kiyoomi when you become King, you should divorce her too.”

“That wasn’t the plan. You said you were fine being a concubine–”

“It’s either me or her, Rin. Choose. Who will be your wife? Me or her?”

“You. It’s always going to be you.”

“Do you promise?”

“It’s just you!” he barked, surprising both himself and Iris. He’d never raised his tone with her before, yet there was no denying it – he was changing. Iris knew this, too, and Rintaro could tell by the wicked glint in her eye that she would use this against him.

Rintaro didn’t think twice before he slammed his lips to hers.

If she couldn’t be convinced with words, he would convince her with their bodies. It was how they communicated anyway – all arguments would always be resolved in the bedroom. They stumbled together back to his hotel room, lips only leaving one another’s for a brief moment to breathe, before they were clawing at each other’s clothes. She let out her rage on him by pushing him back to the bed, with her on top and ripping his shirt, uncaring of the remnants. When she kissed him, it was everything but sweet. He tasted nothing but hatred and pure anger as she shoved her tongue down his throat, and he choked, tightening his grip on her hips while she bounced.

They did not make love.

They simply shared their bodies for a lack of better things to say. He bruised her and fucked her hard enough the headboard slammed against the wall because he couldn’t say he missed you. She marked his skin with hickeys and claw marks down his back because she didn’t want to hear him say he missed you.

At talking, Rintaro and Iris lacked at.

But they spoke well enough with the violence of their bodies that by the end of the night, they both knew – Rintaro’s heart was no longer in the same room as them.

You took it with you from a thousand miles away.

Rintaro couldn’t sleep the entire night. Iris had passed out as soon as she’d satisfied herself, and after hogging the sheets all to herself, he’d given up on trying to sleep. It felt wrong to share the same bed with her, anyway. So he got up, showered, and scrolled on the latest news to look for you again. Still nothing – but apparently Itachiyama’s citizens were looking forward to you and Kiyoomi attending a movie’s premiere night.

He clutched his phone hard enough it shut off. Sighing, he leaned back against his seat on the couch, an arm draped around his arm. He’d gone past the borders of being pathetic. Now, he was just eager to see his wife again, but he had no way of communicating with you. So like the pathetic fool he was, he couldn’t stop himself from scrolling for hours when a rapid knocking banged down on his door. Frowning, he opened it, and was met with a shirtless Atsumu wrapped in nothing but a towel – his eyes bloodshot red, though he suspected, not from crying.

“‘Tsumu, what the fuck?” His brother reeked of alcohol and sex. Pinching his nose, he scanned the hallway for witnesses before opening his door wider. Atsumu scurried in without a word and plopped down on the seat, his knees bouncing repeatedly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I… I fucked up.”

“Yeah? What’s new about that?”

“No, I mean, I really fucked up,” he groaned, his head falling to his hands. Rintaro immediately felt bad about him, Walking forwards, he crossed his arm against his chest, encouraging his brother to continue. “Listen, the party was going great, and Yuki just looked even better in person. And she was fucking funny and so perfect, man.  I couldn’t help myself. But she was flirting with ‘Samu more and I got jealous so–”

“What did you do?”

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. He couldn’t look Rintaro in the eye, and the latter was growing more nervous by the second. “I may have made her drink more than she can handle… and pretended to be Osamu. So she’d sleep with me.”

“You are screwed.”

“I know, I know, but she’s going to wake up soon, and I don’t know what to do. I left the room, and–”

“Okay, calm down. Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Downstairs, eating breakfast.”

“You stay right here.”

Iris chose the wrong time to wake up. She must’ve heard Atsumu’s frantic ramblings and sat up from the bed, clutching the blanket to her naked chest. Upon seeing an equally nude Atsumu, she screeched, throwing the nearest pillow at him. “‘Tsumu, get out!” Atsumu fought back by throwing a smaller pillow her way. They began bickering like small children, and it was too early for any of this. He could feel a pounding at the back of his head already.

Tired. He was just tired.

“Iris, please, just – just stay here, the both of you, okay? I’ll be back.”

At least Rintaro had Atsumu’s mess to thank. He finally had a good enough excuse to not spend another moment in that suffocating room with her – or any of them. He’d wanted to leave hours before, but Iris wouldn’t have taken it well if she woke up without him. For now, though, Rintaro had to take on the role of a responsible older brother; something he’d never done before. Taking quick strides, he swung the door open when Atsumu called out for him.

“Wait. Rin!” Rintaro paused, raising a brow at his brother, whose face had been drained of color. “I’m sorry… I just… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

Rintaro himself wasn’t convinced by his words. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of before that the Princes got their sexual needs satisfied without having been married. Save for a few like Wakatoshi, Keiji, Kita, and Tobio who all wanted to wait for marriage, he was a hundred percent certain his brothers had been with women before. This normally wasn’t a cause for concern. But Hiroda Yuki wasn’t just anyone. She was a model currently rising to fame, and not only was she inebriated during the act, but she’d been led to believe the man she took to bed with someone else. If she were to found out the truth, and decided to turn to the media to ruin his brothers, it’d be another issue for the throne. It didn’t affect Rintaro directly, but times were changing – people were growing restless the longer the crown sat without its King.

It was high time they chose a King, but a very few number of Princes hardly seemed eligible.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Ushijima was the best choice to be King. He was fair, disciplined, and followed the rules to a tee. He also had a happy, stable marriage with a respectable noble woman, and they already have a healthy son. There weren’t any arguments that Rintaro paled in comparison to him.

But that didn’t mean he would give up so easily.

He wanted the throne. He wanted everything.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he headed for the lobby in search of the darker haired twin. He’d think about the Crown another time. Ducking his head to hide his face, he nodded at any passing staff and hid behind corners. It was only a matter of time before Yuki woke up. That presented another problem – should they hide the truth from her and keep Atsumu safe, or tell her what had really happened and risk having Atsumu be kicked out of the Palace?

Fuck. Rintaro didn’t know what to do, but maybe Osamu would.

His brother sat at the hotel’s dining area, happily digging into his meal without a care in the world. Oh, how lucky he was to be so ignorant. Out of the twins, Osamu was the more mild-mannered one and got into less trouble, but it didn’t change the fact Osamu was often the instigator, and Atsumu the willing victim who played into his hands. The situation felt more complicated now because Rintaro was unsure. Had Osamu planned this all along? Had he known that Atsumu wanted to sleep with Yuki and left them to themselves just when the both were drunk out of their asses?

Too many questions, and he struggled to form a coherent thought. But if he were Kita, he’d have this resolved within a second.

If he were Kita, but he wasn’t. He was just plain Rintaro, who wasn’t particularly great at anything, yet had unfortunately been branded with an extravagant title he never deserved.

Pulling out a seat before him, he narrowed his eyes at his brother. It was still early in the morning, so they had enough privacy with only very few people having breakfast. No one paid them any attention as Rintaro leaned forward, his voice low and hushed.

“Where were you last night?”

“Good morning to you, too, dear brother,” quipped Osamu through a mouthful of waffles, “Lovely set of breakfast they serve here. You should try some.”

“‘Samu, I’m serious. Did you stay at the party last night?”

Osamu, the little ass, took his sweet time chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “No, I went home after ‘Tsumu went out with the model. I just came back to pick him up. I figured he’d be too drunk to drive home.”

Rintaro wanted to ask for more details. There had to be more to the story. The twins were both cunning when they wanted to be, although he doubted Osamu would do anything to intentionally harm his twin. It seemed possible, but he couldn’t be too careful. None of them could afford any defamation lest the people decided for themselves how uncontrollable and unruly the Princes are. Their father had already broken the people’s trust by having multiple sons with different women. They treaded on eggshells, even more so when Rintaro opened his mouth to speak, and was cut off by the crowd whispering around them.

He and Osamu froze. They could barely make out the words from their mumbling at this distance, but they were no fools. They could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on them. With their phones pulled out, they whispered amongst themselves and sent looks of disbelief towards the Princes. Rintaro’s heart raced as he made eye contact with his brother.

They both pulled out their phones and checked the latest news.

An article published just a few hours ago trended worldwide at number one. A photograph of Rin and Iris making love could be seen through a window, with the headline implying that they were secretly lovers all along. His heart dropped. He scrolled down to the comments, his fist turning white at the knuckles as he read them.

That’s disgusting! Wasn’t Prince Rintaro recently married? It seems like being a cheater runs in the blood, after all. He’s just like his daddy To think they did this while their spouses were away for official duty… unbelievable. Disappointed, but not surprised. Princess Iris always seemed like a skank. Never liked her. She came to give aid when there was a storm in our village once, and she kept complaining she was tired. Now she’s going around sleeping with other people’s husbands *laughing sticker* lol she sounds like a bitch Is this real?????????? This has to be fake. The Crown Prince loves his wife! Delete this post now! You’re in trouble once the Palace sees this!

Rintaro pocketed his phone. “We need to leave.”

He dragged Osamu by the arm, ignoring his brother’s complaints that he hadn’t eaten his berries yet. One glare shut him up. They had bigger things to worry about than some stupid fucking berries.

“Call Shinsuke. We need help.”

All four of them hid in Rintaro’s room until Kita arrived. It hadn’t been long, maybe less than an hour, but the wait was nerve-wracking. Thankfully, he’d brought a security team with them. The Princes were escorted out through the back doors and into their cars, although it was too late. Reporters and journalists were already swarming outside the hotel. Kita had stayed back to tell the hotel staff they were not allowed to speak of what they saw or heard during last night’s party under no circumstances. The Princes’ safety were their utmost priority. Everything would be dealt with accordingly. Just as they pulled out of the hotel’s parking, Atsumu informed Kita about Yuki, and the situation he left her in.

Shinsuke’s lips thinned. Already, he looked bone tired. Waving a hand, he dismissed his brothers and promised he’d take care of her once she woke up. For now, they had to stay low and keep out of the public’s eye until the situation died down.

“You all best behave when you get back,” Shinsuke warned, “Her Majesty is furious.”

Of that, he had no doubt. Her Majesty had been eerily quiet since everyone’s return from the honeymoon. But Suna knew his mother better than anyone; she wasn’t letting things pass by, she was only watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who would drop the ball first. And to no one’s surprise, it would be Rintaro.

Her Majesty was right. He couldn’t keep this secret affair with Iris forever.

One way or another, the truth would be revealed, and the truth itself would be his damnation.

None of them uttered a word as they sat next to each other in the car. Atsumu’s still bouncing his leg, causing the seat to shake, but Osamu could care less. He simply gazed out the window. Iris, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying, her shoulders shaking silently. Mascara ran down her face in streaks, her lipstick smudged and her torn dress doing very little to hide the love marks on her skin. Gods. Rintaro’s headache worsened. If they got out of the car and the paparazzi took even one photo of Iris in her post-sex state, they were done for.

Rintaro could kiss his precious Crown goodbye.

Walking back to the Palace was akin to walking to your own death.

The lobby was torn upside down. Calling it a mess would be an understatement. The Queen stood in the middle of the furniture she’d flipped and thrown, shards of broken glass all around them as she heaved. The pure image of rage – and he had been the cause. “Fools! Idiotic fools, all of you!” she screamed, stomping through the glass as she reached up to fist Iris’ hair.

“Ow, Your Majesty–”

Her Majesty scrunched her nose at the scent of smoke and alcohol coming off from her, further fuelling her anger. “And you! By the Gods, I knew marrying you into this family was a grave mistake, but you just keep making me regret I ever laid eyes on you, don’t you? You lowly, good-for-nothing whore.”

“Mother!”

“You do not get to speak!” she turned to him and harshly let go of Iris, causing her to stumble and fall onto the broken glass. Panicked, Rintaro reached out for her, but the Queen had caught his arm, reared hers back and landed a slap on his cheek. Rintaro was stunned – she’d been harsh and cruel, but she never laid a hand on him. “Do you have any idea what you did? The throne is all in shambles because of you! The Cabinet hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article came out, and I have all our lines busy with people demanding for answers! And you dare raise your voice at me? I told you, multiple times, that you need to stop with your trysts. How will you be King now that you’ve lost the people’s trust?”

“He will not become King,” announced a deep voice they knew all too-well. Like a demon that only showed up in your worst nightmares, Ushijima strutted inside the room, an air of authority and finality surrounding him. “I should be the King. Help me have the throne, and I will resolve all of this,” he studied them all – Atsumu with his guilt, Osamu who was too scared of the Queen to move a single muscle, Iris clutching her bloodied arm, and Suna with disappointment written all over his features. “Clearly, he is not fit to lead this country. He is still but a foolish, young man.”

Foolish.

Stupid.

Reckless.

He’s just like his father.

He’d be a failure as King – just. Like. His. Father.

So that was who he was then. A failure. He’d become the one thing he swore not to be. How would you look at him now? You always gazed upon him with stars in your eyes, like he was the best thing to ever happen in your life. No one had ever looked at him that way before – not his mother, not even Iris. In Iris’ eyes, he was simply… a boy. A boy with no knowledge and experience in this world, a boy who she felt she had to teach because he knew so little. Only you looked at him with adoration, and even that had been taken away. Or, no, he ruined it. Just as he was the reason you used to smile, he’d also become your greatest pain. And maybe, once you’d returned him and seen how the entire country and his whole family had hated him, you would see him for who he is too – nothing but a failure.

The good for nothing Prince.

He should have known. The Palace was no place for the likes of him. He should have just stopped trying so hard to be King. He should have never used Iris as an excuse to quell his insecurity. But was it truly a crime to want to feel like he was needed?

He didn’t know anymore. The only thing he knows now was that he needed to leave, and without another word, stepped out of the room.

“Rintaro! Where are you going?!”

He ignored his mother calling for him. Perhaps he should stop calling her that, too. She’d barely been a mother. She was more of a Queen, bending and breaking her back to His Majesty’s will. She loved the crown and the power it gave her more than anything, that she willingly sacrificed her dignity to keep her position. For many nights, Rintaro watched his mother leave their quarters crying, battered and bruised. It was confusing for a young boy like him. Weren’t mommies and daddies supposed to love one another? But the Queen would scold him for being awake past midnight, and rush him back to bed while she limped on her way. She never loved the King, and because he was his son, she never loved him, too.

Rintaro was nothing but another tool for Her Majesty to stay in power.

She could never become King and hold the Kingdom for herself, but he could. Wasn’t that why she kept him locked away for years and groomed him to take in his Father’s steps?

I kind of did, he thought sarcastically, I’m a horrible husband just like him.

When you arrived in Inarizaki, the country was in chaos. People flocked you from left and right when you and Kiyoomi left the plane, causing the older Prince to break his silence and scold the nosy reporters. Flabbergasted at his sudden outburst that seemed out of character; they lowered their cameras and gave you enough breathing space. The peace, however, did not last long. Her Majesty was furious beyond what one can imagine – akin to a dragon breathing fire down to anyone who dared come near her tower. The twins, who apparently started this fire and caused Rintaro to be the fuel, had been shut away in their rooms in fear of angering her. Iris, from what little you heard about her, was being ruthlessly flamed by the media. They’d called her all sorts of unkind things you would’ve never dared say out loud.

But for some reason, seeing their downfall did not give you any satisfaction.

Because at the end of the day, they were the people you and Kiyoomi returned to. You may walk down the same hallways in the Palace, but he would always be in Belleview Manor to look for her. And you were well on your way to search for the Crown Prince who walked out on his mother.

The guards took some time to find his location, but once they did, they did not hesitate in informing you. Everyone believed you were the only person he’d want to speak to right now. So you drove up to the mountains, where it was barren and cold, and you had to use a truck to survive the rocky terrain. Seriously, out of all the places he could be, he chose to wallow in misery at the top of the world – in the pouring rain, no less.

Boots muddied from the storm, you hopped out of your truck and opened an umbrella, clutching your coat tighter as you watched your husband from afar.

This mountain served as a border between Inarizaki and Itachiyama. From where you stood, you could see the two countries – Itachiyama with its rich nature, and Inarizaki with its towering Castles and bustling cities. Once a united nation, now split into two – all because of love. A tragic story, yet a realistic one. It only goes to show how powerful, and dangerous, love could be. You knew better than anyone that whatever made you happiest could also be your greatest demise.

And there was the said demise – crouching as he picked up pebbles and threw it off the mountain wall. He wore the same shirt as from the photograph; wrinkled and stained with lipstick. Even from this distance, you could smell her on him, and you wanted to laugh. Perhaps Kiyoomi was right – maybe they never loved each other. Maybe they were just lonely.

Extending the umbrella until your husband was shielded from the rain, you softened. Rintaro visibly froze when the rain stopped pelting against him. His wet hair stuck to his face, his shirt plastered on his skin.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his devastatingly handsome face: relief, worry, surprise.

You broke the silence first and crouched down next to him. When Rintaro stiffened, you smiled, showing him you were not here to be his enemy. “My Prince. You are a difficult man to find.”

“Princess,” he breathed out, and you realized the poor Prince was shivering. His face broke into that of despair upon seeing you. “I didn’t know you would be home so early.”

“I had some matters to attend to.”

“You saw the article,” he guessed, and you nodded. Rintaro then stood to his full height, and you followed, causing his head to bump into the umbrella since he was taller. For a moment, he crouched to fit in under the small space. But it was uncomfortable, and soon, he was gently taking the umbrella and holding it for the both of you – more for you, though, since rain still trailed down his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It was bound to happen,” shrugging, you gestured for him to take a walk with you. It was far from being the most scenic place to have a peaceful walk in, but it would do.

You two were silent for a moment. Rintaro seemed to have a thousand thoughts running through his head when you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

“Tired. And you?”

“I’ve had better days.”

Rintaro stole a cautious glance. “Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled, and the sound of it stupefied him. His eyes widened as if afraid, but truly, there was no need to be. You weren’t in the mood to argue with him. “Not really. I feel like I was mad at you a long time ago, and now I’m just… Numb to it all, I suppose,” you said, absentmindedly spinning the wedding ring you both wore. Such a simple jewelry, yet it symbolized so much more. When you spoke again, the rain had calmed down a little bit, but the cold had already seeped into both of your bones. “Marriage is difficult. You have to stay true to your vows, even when the times are challenging. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. ‘Till death do us part,” you glanced up at him, taking in those handsome features you fell in love with – his hazel eyes, his soft lips you loved to kiss, and his face you often cradled in your palms. Even right now, you wanted to kiss him, if only to give comfort, but you had to know first –

“Do you intend on keeping your marriage vows, Your Highness?”

He averted his gaze. “I doubt our marriage is valid anymore. The country thinks I am a horrible husband to you.”

“It’s not like I’ve been the best wife myself,” you admitted, your chest aching as you remembered the Second Prince – his gentle smiles directed only at you, the castle ruins, his large palms holding you tenderly, and the crestfallen look on his face when you told him you had to look for your husband. Such a great man, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And Gods, you couldn’t help it. You cried. You mourned the love you could have had.

You grieved for the life you could have had, the person you could’ve become.

If it had been Kiyoomi, it would be so much easier. He would love you in the way you wanted. He would you close to his arms all night long because he wouldn’t want to let go. He would chase away those stupid chickens for you. He would hide you away from the rest of the world and given you a life of solitude and peace – it would’ve been simple, and it would’ve been perfect.

But Kiyoomi was already married, and so were you.

And you felt horrible because he was great, but then you’d become a horrible wife. You would be exactly like Rintaro if you had given into your desire and kissed him. Kiyoomi wasn’t yours. But was Rintaro? Your heart was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Why couldn’t it all just work out?

Why couldn’t it be him?

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you forced the thoughts of the curly-haired prince out of your head. “I wish I hated you, Rintaro. I wish… I wish I never met you. I wish you never danced with me at your brother’s ball. I wish you never courted me. I wish you never came into my life and changed everything. It would have been better to never have been loved, than to have loved and been betrayed.”

Rintaro stepped forward, his arm extending to wipe your tears for you but even he could tell you were refused. So he kept his distance, clutching the umbrella tighter as his voice broke. “I’m sorry. I really am. It just… I didn’t want for it happen. You were all I thought about. When you were gone and you didn’t call or texted once, I thought I was losing you. I wanted you back.”

You shook your head. “You cannot have everything you want. You know that.”

His face dropped.

“Are you going to make me choose, too?”

“No. I already know who you would choose,” and you did, yet your heart still ached for him, for your husband, the one thing you couldn’t have. Only you didn’t feel like laughing, not when Rintaro looked at you with just as much confliction. “Is it foolish of me that I still love you even after everything you’ve done?”

His lips curled the slightest bit. “A little, but I am the last man to judge you if you were foolish, which you aren’t.”

You laughed sardonically. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I know,” he mumbled.

Who knew two words alone could puncture one’s heart so much?

Looking away, you both remained silent until Rintaro dropped the question. “What will happen to us now? Divorce is unlikely, but I might be stripped off my titles. I don’t know. But I have a feeling I certainly won’t become King anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

Rintaro thought about it. “I do. It’s all I’ve ever known to pursue.”

“Then stand tall, my Prince. A future King doesn’t bow down to anyone, not even his Queen, and most especially not when the world is against him. We can fix this. I can fix this. I can restore your glory, but I need you to place your full trust on me.”

The plan you formed in your head would be considered insane. Her Majesty would certainly be furious, but if this was the only way to leave Rintaro, you would do it. You would protect him. You would give him back his power, and once he’s had it all, you’ll remove yourself from his life. He cannot have everything that he wants – but if you could not have love, then you want power. Even for just a brief moment, you were determined.

You were going to ruin her.

The drive back to the Palace was silent. He’d agreed to whatever plan you had, regardless of what the outcome might be. He didn’t even know what you truly had in mind. He just trusted you wholeheartedly like you asked, and told you to do as you pleased. Right now, the Crown Prince was weak. His mind was far too disturbed to process anything correctly. You would take advantage of it, simply because his compliance would be the only thing to ensure your success.

He just needed to remain silent.

Claiming he was exhausted, Rintaro went ahead first. It’d be another night where you’d sleep separately, and you would both definitely be awake the whole time. Just as you rounded the corner, you saw a hunched figure resting against the wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for you for a while. Upon hearing your footsteps, Kiyoomi raised his head – his dark eyes vulnerable, almost if hoping you would be the same as you were yesterday.

You wanted to. Truly, you did.

But the person he’d been with in Itachiyama was someone else entirely. She was someone happier, someone who didn’t have a broken marriage to worry about. She was someone who could have loved him.

Now, you were the same Princess he’d always known – the one who could never choose him.

Kiyoomi nodded to himself. He must have realized everything by now. What happened in Itachiyama stayed in Itachiyama. Pushing his weight off the wall, he strode to you with a blank expression. His eyes had gone cold again.

“We will never speak again, will we?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, “He needs me right now.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi had never sounded so defeated broke, and it broke your heart. It made you want to run into his arms, to tell him it could’ve been him if you met him first. But that would sound wrong, wouldn’t it? He had been first. He’d been the last dance; the destined lover. The fated one. But man’s willpower could be so strong it battled even destiny itself, and you were both nothing but a fragment of the could’ve been’s.

“Good luck, Princess, in all your endeavors,” and then, just when you thought he would kiss you as he leaned forward, you closed your eyes. Waited with bated breath.

But he never did.

Kiyoomi only kissed your cheek, and then his scent and his warmth disappeared sooner than you would like. When he walked away, you saw all the what if’s you had to let go of.

The dream life with Kiyoomi vanished into thin air.

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn and never look back. Kiyoomi was surely doing the same. He’d come to peace with it eventually, the love he could’ve had, the marriage he should’ve had. Itachiyama was nothing but a fantasy anyway. He wasn’t a real farmer just as you weren’t someone he could call his. It was a story doomed from the beginning.

Numbness spread all throughout your body. You’d been too drained to cry further, too exhausted to regret what you’d just done. The voice in your mind, the one who craved Kiyoomi like man needed air, had been eerily silent, too. It was if she, too, knew there was no point chasing after something that didn’t want to be chased in the first place.

All you could do was close your eyes and push the image of Kiyoomi’s smile out of your head.

He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

After what seemed like hours, you finally arrived at your shared quarters. The same room you left your husband in, and quite possibly the same room he slept with his mistress while you were gone.

You sighed. Opening the door, you were met by the sight of Rintaro pouring himself a drink. He’d already changed clothes – ones free of Iris’ lipstick and perfume. He looked fresh, much more composed than when he was a mess hours ago, yet he seemed… distant. Usually, he’d already perk up at you entering the room. But his face was devoid of any emotion as he poured wine into a second glass, deftly picking it up before downing it in one go. Your gaze fixated on the bobbing of his throat. How Iris’ lips kissed the column of his neck, how she’d whispered praises into his skin, how Rintaro allowed it all.

He slammed his empty glass down on the table. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the sides of it, his voice unnaturally low as he spoke. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Why you weren’t mad after reading the article,” his knuckles turned white from when he tightened his grip. He took slow exhales as if to calm himself, his grip loosening before he snatched another glass.

Back straightened, Rintaro towered over you as he took slow, careful, deliberate steps – akin to a predator sneaking up on its prey. Your heart drummed in your chest, loud enough it could’ve echoed in the spacious chamber, but you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing his effect on you. Then, he stood in front of you – close enough you saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tipping of his head to the side as he narrowed his gaze at you. Inquisitively, suspiciously, like peeling away the layers of your skin to reveal your dirtiest secrets.

“Strange, don’t you think? Any sane wife who found out their husband was cheating on them would’ve screamed and kicked already. You didn’t do any of that.”

“I told you already. I’m too tired for any of that.”

“It could be that,” he raised his glass to your face, a portentous smirk dancing on his lips. “Or you could also be directing your affections to someone else.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his gaze on you as he sipped his drink and taking his sweet sweet time. “I wouldn’t have slept with her if you didn’t leave. You know I despise Kiyoomi, yet you still went. You completely disregarded my feelings when I said I didn’t want you to go,” he grounded his teeth, jaw clenching from the effort of holding himself back. “Is it him, then? Are you choosing him over me?”

He sounded so serious in his accusations you almost believed it yourself. “Don’t be absurd, Rintaro.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a chord?” he said in a sing-song manner, the smile dropping from his face when you kept your lips shut. “So the rumors were right. You went with him to get back at me.”

Your jaw dropped. Yes, you enjoyed the time with Kiyoomi. Yes, you wished you never left, and you were already regretting each minute you spent longer in this damned space with him. Yes, you thought about Kiyoomi in ways you shouldn’t have – and god forbid you nearly asked him to kiss you, but not once did you think about using his brother as a ploy.

You weren’t like him.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Rintaro fumed. He flung his empty glass across the room, the shattering sound muted by his yells. “Prove it to me, then!”

“Are you even hearing yourself? I’m not the one who cheated! Don’t you dare turn this around and make it seem like it was my fault.”

“But it was! If you didn’t go around fucking my brother behind my back, I would’ve stayed loyal to you! I would’ve waited until you returned! What, you thought I wouldn’t know what you were doing there with him? Doing fertility dances, sharing dinners with his mother like you’re his wife, lighting stupid fucking lanterns–” swinging your arm back, your palm connected with his cheek, a resounding slap rendering the Prince speechless. He stepped back, clutching his reddened cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

“That is enough. Utter one more word, and I will never speak to you again.”

“You aren’t even denying it,” he spat out, “Have you fallen for him?”

You were done. So done. You wouldn’t have any of this anymore. Sidestepping him, you walked past and away from your husband, heading for your bedroom where you planned on slamming the door in his face. You’d cry for hours there if you needed to – anything to have him leave you alone. But your husband was just as stubborn as he was determined, catching up to you with ease before catching your wrist. He spun you to face him, and you froze – he reeked of alcohol, his lips and cheeks painfully red, but his eyes.

You couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or keep you.

“Answer me!”

You fought against his grasp. He was stronger than you by all means; you struggled and kicked and pounded your fists on his chest, but Rintaro didn’t budge. He let you hit him however you pleased, demanding repeatedly to tell him he was wrong – how you wouldn’t choose his brother over him, how it’d be him – forever and always.

“I hate you!” you bellowed at his face, falling limp in his arms from all your fighting. “I wish I never married you – it should’ve been him! I should’ve married your brother!”

“That’s a lie!”

“Oh, don’t look so hurt now, Prince. You don’t even feel a sliver of what I do. Need I remind you that you constantly choose her over me, your wife? Why should I be loyal to you when you’re not even mine?”

“I am yours.”

“You’re hers, too,” you reminded him, your eyes glinting with mischief as you recalled Kiyoomi’s words. Just then, cruel laughter bubbled from your lips. Two could play this game, and you would be the winner. He wanted to hurt you? Fine. You could hurt him even more. “You know what’s laughable, Rin? The woman you’re fighting tooth and nail for doesn’t even want you.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed harder, practically shaking in his arms as you did. Taunting him, you nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you and feed on your wrath. “I’m right, aren’t I? She doesn’t like you. She’s merely using you for fame and pleasure because her husband isn’t attracted to her–” the breath was slammed out your throat. In mere seconds, Rintaro had shoved you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with such ferocity it burned you. Your eyes stung from your tears, the back of your skull beginning to throb. But Rintaro wasn’t done with you yet.

Pinning your wrists above your head, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like scotch and smelled faintly of her perfume. It made your stomach churn, and soon, you were groaning into his mouth, desperately trying to win in this battle of dominance. He was angry as you were frustrated, your lips molding against each other’s like swords clashing in a battle. He struck first, his kisses passionately bitter, but his taste addictingly sweet. You fought back against his hold, your breasts sliding down across his chest and you moaned – he groaned – tugging your bottom lip between his teeth until you couldn’t tell who the enemy was anymore. You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t enjoy it, but his lips were as familiar as a sunny day and you were a woman in need of light in your life.

He’s repulsive, your mind argued.

But he’s mine, your heart decided. He was, and always will be, yours. He could have Iris for as long as he wanted, but it was you who’d taken his name. It was your ring on his finger, your face next to him in the royal portraits. You weren’t the shameful mistress – you were the rightful wife. You could have him as you pleased, ruin him to your delight. Break him into thousands of pieces only to pick him up again because he was yours, yours, yours.

Threading your fingers to his hair, you dragged him closer to you. Breathed him in, pawed at his shirt in a demand for him to take it off. He was more than willing to oblige, the two of you making quick work of his buttons in between messy, breathy kisses. Shirt discarded, he grabbed your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct – the next sequence of events like a movie you’d seen before.

Your clothes on the carpeted floor.

Rintaro on top of you, your fingers intertwined beside your head. His lips on your neck, bruises on your skin and the imprint of his hands on your hips. Your mewls right on his ear. The quivering of your thighs, the stain on the sheets – the day turning into night, from dusk until dawn. He thrusts deep, enough to have you inhaling sharply through your nose. And there it was – the unmistakable scent of a vanilla perfume you’ve never owned. It’s everywhere in the room now that your eyes opened, the hazy cloud of lust ebbing away. Iris’ perfume on your vanity area, a discarded pair of white lacy thongs that wasn’t yours peeking from under the closet, and her scent – her stupidly sweet, innocent scent – blanketing the silk of your sheets.

Slowly, your fingers detached from Suna as you turned to the sides, inhaling the sheets once more because it couldn’t be, right? Maybe you had it wrong. Rintaro wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t be so cruel. You never even shared this bed with him ever since you got married. You’ve never had him hold you close as you fall asleep, never had your head resting on his chest while you both waited for the next day. He was a cruel man, yes, but he wouldn’t dare do this to you. Not while you were gone, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

Yet there it was, the scent of a floral shampoo you couldn’t recognize on your pillows, and the faint smatters of vanilla and cinnamon lingered behind.

And when the damage is done, and your heart is more confused now than ever – Rintaro momentarily slumps before you, held up only by his arms, he realizes too late the tears stained on your cheeks.

“You brought her here.”

It wasn’t a question, not even an accusation. You spoke nothing but the truth, and Rintaro’s crestfallen face said it all. He’d brought her here, made love with her on your bed. Somehow, finding out that he’d fucked her in the one place you found solace in the Palace hurt more than knowing he fucked her everywhere else.

It was as if he’d stained you. Spat right at your face. Desecrated the one place you wished to hold him in, and rubbed it in your face that he couldn’t make love to you in your bed. But he could with her, because it was always going to be her, wasn’t it?

No matter how hard you tried, it was never going to be you.

Silence dawned on the room. There’s nothing but the rapid beating of your hearts, and the soft sniffles you muffle behind your first. He sees two things on your face that night: one of beauty, and one of regret. He dared himself to be brave, to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb. The motion was oddly comforting, and for a moment – just a quick moment – you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Leaning into the warmth of his palm, more tears dampened his skin. You were torn between asking him to stay, to hold you until it hurt less, and asking him to leave and give you a moment for yourself.

But Rintaro had already decided.

With a final kiss to your forehead, your husband crawled out of the bed. He glanced at you one last time before slipping his ring off, setting it on your bedside table, before quietly – and resolutely – leaving you behind.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Holidays with the Waynes 🦃

⚣🦃 A/N → This idea came randomly, conveniently after Thanksgiving. To everyone that celebrates, Happy Turkey Day (he said about two weeks late) and Indigenous People's Remembrance Day. Also, everyone congratulate me. I finally made a fic under 1000 words. I almost made it longer to but stopped myself. This is why it takes so long to get posts out of me. Just when I think I'm done, I add more. WARNINGS: none. just typical Wayne chaoticness

⚣🦃 Summary → His life is like a reality show and every day is a new episode, with the holidays being their own specials. So, when a classmate asks him how his Thanksgiving was, how does the youngest Wayne son even come up with a response?

⚣🦃 Words → 622

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦃

“So, Y/N, how was your Thanksgiving?”

What a loaded question.

*cue the flashback ripples*

“Damian, why is the turkey in my bedroom?” The youngest Wayne asked after entering the kitchen and finding his half-brother sitting at the island.

“Master Y/N, if you’re going to be eating in your room, I do ask you put a cover over your sheets to avoid crumbs and stains, please,” Alfred said while seasoning one of the various dishes for their dinner.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s not like that. It’s–” Y/N tried to explain before stopping himself after Damian sent him a glare, warning him not to utter another word or else, “It’s just that I sometimes get after-dinner cravings and don’t feel like making the trip to the kitchen. Won’t happen again, though.”

Alfred gave him a suspicious look after glancing at Damian who was avoiding his gaze, before nodding his head and continuing his food preparations. The two brothers both looked at each other before the youngest nodded his head towards the door, making his way out of the kitchen while trying not to act even more suspicious knowing the butler was watching his every move.

Damian quickly moved in tow behind his brother, following him to one of the sitting rooms. A cautious measure to ensure they were out of earshot.

“Next time, scan the room before you start blabbing off as you usually do,” Damian said, his usual annoyed and slightly threatening squint in his eyebrows.

“I do not blab, thank you very much,” Y/N said, his hands on his hips and breath huffing out, showing his clear offense to his brother’s statement.

“History would beg to differ.”

Y/N scoffed with an eye roll, “Whatever. Why is the school’s Thanksgiving turkey mascot currently nesting in my room?”

“I overheard one of the faculty members talking about how good the animal was going to taste on their plates come Thanksgiving dinner, and I refused to let an innocent animal be subjected to such brutality.”

“Okay, but you can’t just kidnap the turkey, Damian! Let alone hide it in my room!”

“First, his name is Tiny. Please, give him the respect of using his name. Second, he’s happier and more relaxed in your room. I think he enjoys your color scheme.” Damian said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I–... Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were a Kardashian.”

“Less authentic and more plastic. Also, you know how Father feels about that family, especially the mother. And, how would you feel if someone tried to chop off your head and limbs so you could be put on a platter that serves 6-10?” The Boy Wonder questioned, mirroring his brother’s body language with his hands on his hips.

“Damian, you literally chased me around the house with your sword last Tuesday.”

“I thought we were playing tag.”

“Who plays tag with a sword?!”

“People who don’t want to get tagged.”

“I–... No words. None whatsoever.”

“Does this mean you’ll let Tiny room with you tonight?”

“Fine.”

For the rest of that Thanksgiving break, Y/N spent it with a roommate who would wake him up at the ass crack of dawn with a series of short, noisy clucks. The youngest Wayne had to explain to his father that he was listening to a new LO-FI relaxing tracks of bird sounds to help him relax.

He received many strange looks from his various family members.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Holidays with my family are pretty lame. Anyway, what about your family?” Y/N answered, lying straight through his two front teeth.

Holidays with his family were never lame, but also never normal.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️| Masterlists | ☀️

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 7)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 6, Part 8

summary: You spend some time with Miguel.

warnings: smut. f receiving oral, fingering, grinding, switchy behaviour from both sides, angst. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this chapter beat my ass icl

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all-consuming grief,

It’s going to be a warm night. It's ushered in by the kind of dawn that bleeds red and gold, tawny and autumnal in the waning light. Like the washy colours of a Renoir, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing the thing he swore black-and-blue he wouldn’t. Reminiscing and romanticising; for the first time in a while, Miguel is able to see the sun set, legs splayed on the brick of his front steps. 

Sitting by worn metal railing, he’s still in his work clothes. He chucked his rucksack on the step above, leaning long legs onto the ones below. They don’t ache as much as they used to, well-trained by a couple months of running and spending more time in the gym. There’s a shake in the fridge, labelled ‘Tuesday, PM’ that he’ll gulp down before bed, and one labelled ‘Wednesday, AM’ that he’ll take before setting off in the morning. In the morning, with cloudy skies and street cars to keep him company. There’s too much pollution, light or otherwise, for him to see some stars. He hasn’t seen stars in a while, now.

Long days seem to have turned into just days somewhere along the way. He can’t quite pinpoint when, and doesn’t really care to, but he thinks his brother would call it “progress”. There’s a grimace on his face as he thinks about it; a word that tastes like mud and feels like swirling cement in his mouth. It’s all bullshit, really. Gabi’s paltry attempt at therapising him, one which he would usually nip in the bud - taking metaphorical shears to slash at weeds and dense conversation. Catch-up calls about how he feels, how he’s doing – when he’s fine, he always is – as if Gabi is waiting for a shoe to drop. 

He’s waiting for Miguel to have an epiphany, a breakdown the size of a collapsing star. It’s not coming, he keeps telling his brother, and the sooner the younger O’Hara realises – without the wide eyes and the pity – the better for the both of them. After all, Gabriel is his baby brother, and he’s spent his whole life worrying on his behalf: playing hide-and-seek in little closets and putting back together broken toys. Trying to drown out the sound of shouting and broken plates. They’re too old for all that, the worrying and gulping back tears, walking its well-travelled paths – and it doesn’t feel right that Gabi should do the same for him.

He sighs, deep and heavy and rolling down that quiet street. After what feels like forever, he’s tempted to lie down, to rest his head on the stone, close his eyes and think of something else. Of someone else - lots of someones, at this point in the day. He’s not the weepy type, but he is tired; shaking off the wear and tear, and fighting off sleep. 

Then he sees it; a figure walking towards him, all sandals and khaki shorts and smiles. Mr Estevez, donned in his year-round attire of a polo shirt, a little tight around the middle, and cargos cut off below the knee – finally appropriate, considering the weather. He’s strolling closer like he’s got all the time in the world. If Miguel wasn’t so exhausted; the bone-deep kind, the kind that seeps into skin and lines a casket; he would’ve been annoyed. Instead, he hisses, furrows quickly deepening. 

“Buenas, Miguelito!” Mr Estevez beams, scratching at scraggly facial hair. 

Miguel frowns, but greets him nonetheless: that politeness drilled into him during childhood rearing its head.

“Buenas tardes, tío.” He grits his teeth as he gets up from his seat, creaky joints and all.

His landlord, the building’s handyman, owner of half a dozen shops all over the city, and Miguel’s uncle-that’s-not-really-his-uncle; Mr Estevez wears many hats, staying bright and informal regardless. He’s known the older man since he was 6, so he can’t be too disappointed; his tío has been late for weddings, funerals, and his little boy’s birth – it’s not much of a surprise that he’d be late now, too. Miguel stretches out a rough palm, and the man stops just shy of his hand, completely ignoring it. Before he knows it, Miguelito is engulfed in a great big bear hug, with wet kisses pressed to the apples of his cheeks. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, as usual, so they hang limply; arms flailing to his sides like a t-rex.

They separate, and he coughs at the great big hand that slaps his back. Grumbling, he walks up to the door, bag over his back, and stands expectantly. Mr Estevez doesn’t follow, instead dusting himself down to sit on the steps.

“I just need to get into the building.” Miguel starts. “Forgot my keys, and I've been here for hours. M’tired, and I–”

“Let’s sit, Miguel.” He scoots over, making space. “Look at the stars.”

It’s clear the older man isn’t moving. Begrudgingly, he obliges.  “We’re in the middle of the city. You only see “stars” in the river – beer bottles and tinned crap reflecting the lights.” 

“Language.” He gets a sharp nudge to his ribs.

“Discúlpame, tío.”

They stew for a moment, bathing in the silence that follows. The man besides him is the first to speak.

“I spoke to your mother.”

He’s scoffing and moving to get up, before feeling a firm hand on his shoulder.

“She’s worried, Miguel. Says you haven’t called in a while.”

“She hasn’t called me either."

“She’s stubborn.” The man besides him chuckles, bringing gentle eyes to meet his own. "Pig-headed. Remind you of someone?"

Miguel rolls his eyes, he just can't help it. 

"She’s also the one that moved back home, so either way–”

"You know it's all been hard on her." 

" –on her? It's been hard for her, surrounded by family, after she abandoned me? A-After…" His voice gets dangerously hoarse, threatening to crack under the weight of those words. 

He can't stand the pitiful look sent his way: brows drawn, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sorry. It's… It's nothing. I'm fine. Just fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine, Miguel."

–even though you're definitely not okay. That part is left unsaid, spat onto the pavement like bitter backwash. 

Mr Estévez sighs, ruffling a hand through Miguel's hair. It makes him hiss and dart away from the hand, pouting like he's a little kid again. He doesn't like it; the way he feels like all this life he's lived has been for naught. Trials and tribulations, and yet he doesn't feel that ache of growth; still stuck in the shoes of an awkward teenager. 

"You think too much, Miguelito. Always have." He smiles, the kind that deepens the wrinkles around his mouth. It twists Miguel into knots, mouth dry as he tries to untangle himself from that feeling. "I'm worried about you, kid."

He sniffs, eyes trained towards the pavement. There it is again, worry; complicating and unravelling what was meant to be just another day. 

"It's today, isn't it?" 

All Miguel does is nod, shakily. It's been 2 years since his heart was ripped out of his chest. It heaves now, an erratic rise and fall he’s doing his best to control. Breathe, deeply and calmly; try not to think about his little girl in that hospital bed, and those blank eyes staring back. 

“M’fine.” It comes out more desperate than he intends it, and he curses under his breath. If Mr Estevez hears the crude language, he doesn’t react.

Miguel is tense, hunched over the bag on his lap and curled into himself like prey – spitting and prickly and clearly uncomfortable. He’s never been the weepy kind, but the older man can’t help but think it’s a shame; so much love, and nowhere to keep it but inside. Miguel's bottled it up; the memories of precious Gabriella, all that warmth she brought out in her father; and he's turned them to poison pills to keep himself sick. 

Miguel would never admit it, of course. He’s too stubborn. Pig-headed.

His tío sighs, moving to get up. He groans, in that dramatic sort of way he knows Miguel can’t stand, but still, there's a rush to help him up. Producing the door keys with a flourish, he pulls from the depths of cargo pockets, and unlocks the main door. Ushering in the younger man, who has grown so tall he needs to duck as he climbs the narrow stairs, there’s a finger prodded into the back of that cotton button-up.

“Miguel?” He starts, revving up a conversation he’s been meaning to have for a while now.

“Hmm?” 

They both wait by the entrance of the apartment. The keys jingle in Mr Estevez’s hand.

“If I open the door, will I find out that you’ve driven away another one of my tenants?”

Conveniently, there seems to be a rather interesting spot in the hardwood that Miguel pokes with a dress shoe. 

“...depends on your definition of 'driven out', tío.”

“That’s the third one this year! Not even 2 months– I knew there was something up. Not a single one of those little smiley faces to my messages, and–"

“I’ll make up for his side of the rent, you know I will.”

“I don’t like it. You should be saving up, to go get a house and settle down somewhere."

“I like living here, and I’ve said multiple times I’d pay the extra to live alone–”

“And then what? You rot in your room for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t– rot feels a little–”

“Nonsense. You’re lonely, Miguelito. If you don’t like it, you move out.”

They both know he won’t. It’s not really an option; the apartment is affordable and he likes living so close to his old neighbourhood, his old haunts. It’s like he’s tethered to that place with a bungee cord wrapped under his ribs, always snapping back.

“No promises, tío.”

“Doesn’t matter, Miguelito.” He sighs, scratching at stubble. “It’s been hard to find other tenants, with half the neighbourhood drying up. But as soon as I do–”

He points an accusatory finger at Miguel, and the sentence is finished for him.

“...best behaviour, I know.”

“Best behaviour.” Mr Estevez repeats, and starts to fumble with the keys. He throws a little comment over his shoulder. “I liked your lady friend, ages ago… the scary one, with the blue hair. She was–”

“Xina’s not scary, when you get to know her.”

“She was funny. Very pretty. Always paid rent on time, gave me food when I came to fix the heating…”

“It's out again, by the way.” Miguel chews his lip, with a strange expression. “And yeah, she was.”

The door swings open. Mr Estevez doesn’t let him off the hook, though, engulfing him in a warm hug. This time, in the doorway of his apartment, eyes screwed shut; he doesn’t try to wriggle out of it, melting into his tío’s arms. It feels different now that he’s not a kid: angry and hurting with a different sort of ache, but he leans into it, all the same.

~~~

There's a pressure released from the apartment, lately. Miguel feels… well, first of all, he feels ; thinks with his heart and not his head, sometimes. It's lighter, coming home with that weight on his shoulders and with someone there to distract him from it. Living life, he thinks, for the first time in a while. Vivid and vibrant and awake ; relishing the autumnal weather. It's always been his favourite season, despite how childish he thinks having a favourite season is; something you had asked him on a whim one morning. 

Normally, he wouldn't entertain it, and with all the shit Pete spews, sometimes, he's had plenty of practice ignoring it. A well-timed dirty look, and then he'd get his head down and work; occupy himself with something less frivolous. But when you say it, with half a piece of toast sticking out of your mouth, it doesn't feel like a chore to answer. It doesn't feel like a stupid question, and he finds his face growing warm at the thought of you caring about these little things – wanting to know him , however that comes. 

And so, his answer is Autumn. It's a little stilted; but catching him off guard after a run will do that to him. It's purely practical , he says, eyes tracing the slopes of your body in that shirt and shorts that stops at your thighs; high enough that he feels like a perv for looking. Autumn has temperate, even weather. Perfect for sweaters and hoodies. Warm enough that you don't need a jacket. Just right. You snort, nudging him. Bullshit, Mig. You flutter your eyelashes mockingly, your tone light. You just think it's the prettiest. 

And he hums, catching you off guard. You're both drawn towards that little window over the sink, the one that overlooks a fire escape and the street. He's had that view for three years, now. Sleeves always rolled to his elbows as he does his washing up, but never quite looking. The street just below is framed in its windowpane, quite the pretty picture. Crisp leaves scattered on the sidewalk, carpeted in red and honeyed amber. And he can feel it from the other side of the glass; smell it, touch it, taste it. Autumn: hot chocolate and giggles, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and cupping tiny palms to warm them up. Sunsets seen for the first time, watched through bus windows on the way back from school – he misses those the most. 

"You don't think it's beautiful?" You say, leaning your head towards the half-open window. 

You don't notice, but he looks over to you, swallowing roughly. He says it with a small voice.

"I…I do."

You're darting to the bathroom not too long after, breaking the spell. Frustrated, he resists the urge to curl up into a ball and scream into his palms. He's got what he wanted; a good fuck, a pretty face, a warm smile. Friends, at the most, who happen to get the other off after a long day. A welcome distraction, at the least. He's got what his body has been telling him he needs for the past few months. It makes him feel weird, so oddly settled; but, all things considered… 

Miguel is doing okay.

“...and I wouldn’t normally ask, but I swear , I left him…o-on read and he won’t stop texting me.”

Really, actually; he’s doing fine.

“It feels weird– mmffuck– but I can’t ignore him any longer.”

Maybe even… good. Better than okay.

“I still have a bunch of my stuff over there. At least half of it is clothes and books, a-and I’ve put it off for as long as I can…”

He hums in response, pulling quiet curses from you, above. Pressing the flat of his tongue onto your clit, your hips jump up and he purrs ; rearing up to dive even deeper into your pussy. Too quick for him, you catch on, hand in his hair to pull him up.

Sitting up on your haunches, he rests his head on your bare thigh – licking the taste of you off of his lips.

You tilt your head, looking at him with those eyes he can’t help but marvel at. A beat passes. 

“...so?” You start, expectantly. “Will you help me or not?”

His response comes in the form of teeth nipping at pillowy skin. You yelp, and swat him away whilst he chuckles.

“I’m serious , Mig. It’s too much to pick up by myself. And you’re the only person I know with a car…”

“ Ouch, hermosa. ” He frowns as you peter off. “Is that the only reason you’re fucking me? For my car?”

“If I say it’s because of your sparkling personality, will you help me?”

For a moment, it seems like he’s got his brows pressed together like he’s seriously considering it, but it ends up being just smoke and mirrors. He’s pretending , biding his time to hook a hand under your legs and force you to lie down onto the bed. Your head hits the covers with a gentle thump as he hikes up the lip of that big tee even further; squeezing your thighs around his head like earmuffs. 

It’s when he makes eye-contact, tongue circling your hole, that you realised you’re fucked. Up until now, he’s been toying with you – playing with his food, so to speak – lazily swirling his tongue around your clit and pressing buttons to see exactly where to push. And you'd welcomed it, a hand in his hair as you talked about your day – which he'd asked for, of course. 

Now, he's insatiable, eating you out like a man starved; all tongue and wet kisses to your swollen bud. You're slightly raised up on his shoulders, clamping around his tongue as he fucks into you fervently. Big palms spread you wider, and he hums into it, content.

"So pretty ," He sets you down, pupils blown as he studies the way your back arches and the way your legs shudder in the sheets. He slides upwards, sitting next to you, tracing a hand across the gentle curve of stomach that peeks out from your big t-shirt. 

Still coming down from your high, you're only just able to register it: he looks mesmerised, a dopey smile plastered on his face. 

"What?" You scoff when a moment passes, and his hand inches closer towards your lower lips. 

"M'just looking." He shrugs, with a little smile on his face. "I'm not allowed to look?" 

You scoff, but you're still shaky so it comes out a little more pathetic than you intend. Nevertheless, you start to sit up but he stops you with a gentle hand at your chest. 

"Call him." He says, pressing two fingers to your clit and then down to your gushing slit. 

Maybe it's the way he hunches over you, eyes flicking towards your lips, or the way he slips those fingers in; but your eyes go wide, and you're choking on your next words. 

"Call… Call who?" Playing dumb, dancing on a razor's edge, and Miguel only quirks up an eyebrow at the stupid question. 

"You know who." He says it low, smooth and dulcet as he curls his fingers at that sweet spot, experimenting. "I'll help you, fine. But I want you to call your ex, too. Let him know when to expect us. Is that okay, sweetheart ?" 

That last word comes with a twang, the lilting tone of what sounds like mockery. He twists the knife, nudging the flat of his palm onto your clit – still tender and throbbing from your last orgasm. 

Before you change your mind, you pick up the phone laid face down on the bedside table, pressing shaky fingers to its screen. You don't dare to look up, knowing Miguel is watching; dark eyes studying your every move. 

Flicking his wrist this way and that, he swallows roughly as your fingers stutter on the screen. Not completely satisfied, he still has the time to look smug, settling into a comfortable pace. Finally, your phone rings with a tell-tale dial tone. It rings once. It rings twice, and–

"Hello? " The voice is muffled as it says your name. Put it on speaker, Miguel mouths and you oblige.

"Hey, J-Jamie." The phone is shaky in your hands, so you lay it out next to you on the bed. 

"It's late, baby." You don't have time to be annoyed at his tone – or the unwarranted pet name – because Miguel speeds up, pumping in and out of you with a little more force. 

"I… I know. S-Sorry." You clamp down the moans that threaten to erupt, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts. 

Head lolling back into the sheets, you spend a good ten seconds in oblivious bliss, until Jamie breaks the silence. 

"You've been ignoring me for ages, baby… and then you call out of the blue. What is it?" He's tired, it sounds like. Irritated for sure. 

"Just w-wanted to–" Miguel presses his thumb to your clit and you jump. Once back down to earth he has to prompt you to answer. "-my stuff! Fuck , I just want to pick up my stuff."

"...now?" 

Tomorrow. Miguel mouths. 

"Tomorrow. " You repeat, wrapping a hand around his forearm to slow him down. It's too much, too fast; and he has the audacity to add another finger, scissoring out to stretch your cunt. 

"O-kay. " He clicks his tongue, with some things rustling in the background. "Okay. You're acting weird, but..."

You're conflicted. His tone makes you melt, reaching for your phone to answer when Miguel snakes a hand under your shirt, palming your tits. To your surprise, he presses shaky kisses to the skin, rolling around your nipple with the flat of his tongue. You keen, clamping a hand around your mouth to stop the noises that spill out. 

"...we still need to talk about what happened. About how we left things." 

Anger flares up at your chest; hot at the sheer gall. He wants to talk? Now, when you had been met with a brick wall of silence; begging and begging for even a simple explanation? 

What made it sting even more was that even after the breakup, everything happened on Jamie's terms. He broke up with you, providing little warning. He completely ghosted you, refusing to answer countless calls and messages. And now, he wants to talk; to make himself feel better and wank off his own ego, no doubt. It's not bitterness that makes you press Miguel closer, to revel in the pleasure that he gives you, you convince yourself. It's for you ; finally, unabashedly, just for you. 

You don't bother to answer, hanging up the call with a click. Tugging at his hair, you pull him off with a wet pop; slick-soaked fingers slipping out of your cunt.

He cradles your chin, angling you upwards. 

"You okay? Too much?" It barely registers; you're too focused on the tangle of curls framing his face, and the rosy pout of messy lips. 

You shake your head, writhing against the sheets. 

"More." You move his hand over to rest between your legs. "Please, Miguel."

His eyes flutter, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Eyes on me, baby.” 

He says it with sobering clarity, bolstered by just how precisely he slots against your bare pussy. You can feel it, the full length of his cock; pressed up against you as he slips it out of his sweats. Head spinning, it slaps onto your stomach. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Oh fuck. He's big. 

"Just like that." He coos, spitting into his palm and pumping his cock. “Wanna see how pretty you look when I make you cum.”

~~~

When tomorrow comes, you’re still sore from the litany of bruises and hickeys littered. It’s a Saturday, and you’re up bright and early. Well, Miguel is up bright and early, clattering around in the kitchen as you wake up. 

He seems energised, mug of coffee in hand whilst you rub the sleep from your eyes.  You waltz into the kitchen through the open doorway, morning breath and all. 

"Morning," You say, soft and giggly at the way he jumps ten feet in the air, too wrapped up in himself to notice at first. 

"Morning." He breathes, melting when he sees you in the shirt he had picked out for you last night. He shakes himself out of it. "Hungry? I can make something."

"No, no. M'good." You sidle up to the counter, head clocked at the fancy machine on the heavy slab. There's a question on the tip of your tongue, one you roll between your teeth. "Could I have some coffee? I mean… could you show me how?" 

Where you expect laughter, mockery, or surprise that you've lived here for months and can't figure out the coffee machine; he nods, patient and calm. You ask him more questions; curious with every flick of a switch, and the way he lights up when talking about it. To your surprise, you want to know more – anyway that comes. 

He's talking about expensive beans, and his favourite roasts – and a place across town that sells the exact kind he likes, but it's too fucking gentrified for him to go there more than two or three times a year. That makes you giggle: his little pout, the press of brow; and he looks up in surprise before joining you in light laughter. 

You finish, pouring cream into his special mug with a flourish, and he steals a sip before you can. You elbow him away, angling for that stolen taste. When you do, it is deep and rich; sweet in a way that reminds you of Miguel, grounded and balanced and silky. In short, it's the perfect cup of coffee. More than content, you hum. 

"Is it good?" He asks because he's already making mental notes, planning to greet you with a hot flask of the stuff in the mornings – if it means he gets that smile, of course. 

"Very." Fervently you nod, lips curved to the ceramic as you blow; and Miguel is trying really hard not to stare. Maybe it's the fact that he's seen you in a way not everyone gets to; pretty and vulnerable and writhing on the tip of his cock; but it has him fending off vivid daydreams. Your lips wrapped around his length, his hand pressing you further down, feeling that warmth as you choke on his–

He blinks and you're gone, padding off to your room with that mug of coffee. You return not too long after, phone in hand and tapping away at the screen. Miguel ignores the way it makes him feel, having your attention and then losing it just as quickly. Like a kicked puppy, he resists the urge to beg for more – of your time, of your attention – turning away to clean up instead. 

"I spoke to Jamie," You start, leaning with your back to the counter as he rolls up the sleeves of a comfy sweater. "He said he'll be around later in the evening, after his shift. Around 10. Is that okay?" 

He shrugs, not caring either way. You're a friend, and he's helping you because that's what friends do. He can still taste you on his lips, but it doesn't mean anything. Not in a way you'd want, anyways. 

"Sure." He doesn't turn around, stealing glances at the open window whilst he clatters around. "I've got a session later on anyways."

He catches a flash of something on your face, and you're pushing it away; prickly and uncomfortable. In his defence, he's stopped bringing people over for faux chemistry tutoring and there's less banging coming from across the wall. Less , but not completely gone, because you've learnt he has a penchant for dropping shit and cursing like someone's Dad. 

But you can't help but think about Sarah , and Jia …. and how close he would get to Sita on the dining table. Fuck . 

You're sighing now, tracing the curve of his jaw as he settles in front of the window: jaw set, arms crossed, and distant. He does that sometimes, goes off somewhere else – all teeth and claws. Tense, brows drawn up in a way that makes you want to smooth them out.  

You put your phone down and mug away, sliding across linoleum to gently nudge his shoulder with your own. 

"Are we…" He starts, and you track his line of sight to a quiet street below. He hums, without looking away. "Are we good?" 

It makes you turn. You blink, as if out of all the nonsense you bicker about daily, that was the most ridiculous. Good? Good? Of course we are, of course we always will be. How could we be anything else? You shut it down before it spills out of your mouth, overzealous and desperate. 

He clarifies with a nervous cough. "Last night. Was it… good?" 

His frown deepens, and you wonder if it's just you that hears it in his tone. His real question, the one that makes you splinter and creak like a felled oak tree: Was I good? Am I good enough?

"Yeah. " You say it like the most obvious thing in the world – and to you, it is. For all his flaws; assholery and its trimmings aside; Miguel has never been a bad lay. You don't even think he has it in him; he couldn't half-ass it if he tried.

"It was–" Fucking amazing . The kind of thing you'll fuck yourself to for the foreseeable future. Cathartic and breath-taking and hot . All of the above. 

Miguel finishes your sentence with something a little less… horny. "It was a lot, wasn't it? I wasn't really thinking, how uncomfortable it could be for you, and–" 

Gently, you laugh and cut him off. "I've been having mediocre sex for basically the whole of my adult life, Mig. This is… exciting and new. I like it, I really do."

Exciting and new. It brings him crashing back down to earth. You're enjoying the way he makes you feel, the thrill . Not… him. Not really, anyways. That pang of disappointment feels different, for some reason. He's never liked the song and dance of flirting, but he cherishes its rewards: of being wanted, and someone wanting him . So that fiery flame of need; deep and heady; is unfamiliar under his skin. 

"We can slow down, if you'd like." You bring a hand to his arm, warm and gentle. "I don't mind. We can go back to just messing around on the couch…."

You've got a cheeky smile when you say it; a vague memory of a different time, when you had gotten a little too comfortable on the sofa, leading to hands stuffed in trousers and pressed up against one another. Quick and desperate, you had wanted to see him fall apart; like he did your first night together, and the next, and the next. 

He gets closer, sandwiching you between the counter and his body. With a gentle hand, he strokes your hip, bunching up the fabric to get a peek of thigh.

“What do you like?” He’s deadly serious, red-brown eyes searching your face for something he can’t quite place. And just like that, the air is thick with tension. All you can manage is a limp shrug. 

“I don’t know, really.” It comes out as a croak , as you’re much too occupied with the shrinking gap between you both. “I haven’t done the things you’ve done.”

You’re making assumptions, of course. Filling in the gaps of what you’ve learnt in the past few months; of alleged threesomes and a laundry list of women at his feet. He’s an asshole; pretty and gruff and sarcastic; but God , he knows how to touch you just right.

“I could show you.” He slots a knee between your thighs and your head spins. “Make you feel good. ”

Before you can think, you’re nodding; chewing at your lip to bite back moans when he rucks up your shirt. He nudges your legs apart, both hands on your waist as he slots himself between them. You can feel it; quickly hardening, loose underneath sweats. Miguel slides wide palms to your ass, kneading its globes. With one hand, he picks up your leg by the thigh, and snakes the other to your pussy. Bare, because you’re trying to kill him, of course, and he groans at the feeling of his hand at your cunt; already wet and pliant for him. 

After a few wet taps to your hole, obscene, he slips himself out and you heave; pussy fluttering at just the thought of him inside you. Gathering up your slick on his palm, Miguel pumps his weeping cock, pressing its tip to your hole. 

"Still sore, Miguel." You hiss, looking down at where you both meet with the prettiest pout he thinks he's ever seen. 

It has you clawing at his back for purchase as he finally sinks in, stretching you out in that wonderful way he did last night. Except this time, he's slow and careful; steeling himself with shaky breaths. 

"Oh, fuck. " He settles in about halfway, stopping to hike up your leg just a bit higher. "Want me to make you feel better?" 

He says it breathless and crooning, forehead comes to rest on yours. With that other hand flat on the counter, you're lifted up to only toes on the floor, and he angles himself to buck up; filling you deep, and cock sliding past that sweet spot inside. He sets a pace, grinding into you, rather than fucking. If last night was dirty ; taboo, quick and primal; then this morning feels different. Intimate and reverent, he rolls his hips perfectly ; sending flashes of that first night down your spine. 

With the moans that spill out of your mouth, it takes all of Miguel's willpower not to swallow them in a kiss. Impossibly close, he traces up your thigh with a large palm; eventually pressing into the small of your back. Arching into him, your lips barely brush together, and you're both panting into open mouths; drunk on pleasure. 

"Miguel." There's a warning somewhere in your tone; underneath the layers of lust, you remind him of your previous agreement. 

"I… I know. " He swallows, nose pressed to yours, eyes screwed shut. He thinks if he opens them, he might spill into you right then and there. 

He's trying, he really is, tracing your cheek with his nose and mouthing at your neck – light kisses against the skin. He smells like coffee, bittersweet and heady, and you groan, rocking into him in a way that rubs up against your clit – before finding an ounce of restraint and putting a hand to his neck. 

You apply a little pressure, intending to push him away, but he likes it: eyes fluttering open, and mouth curved into a little O. It's a pretty sight that has you drooling, tits pressed against him as he practically purrs . And so, you pull him closer; nails dancing underneath his shirt, whispering filth into the shell of his ear. You're close, grinding into him like the push and pull of waves, merely waiting for the crescendo of orgasm to take you out to sea. 

"I'm close, Miguel." All he can do is hum, pulling you closer. "Fuck, I feel so good. You make me feel so good."

"Yeah? " He asks, needy in a way you haven't quite seen before. 

"M'gonna cum," You nod. "...because of you, baby. You did good. So good. Shit, ohh –g-god–" 

You clamp down on him, gushing around him with shaky legs. And Miguel is good; patient as he watches you fuck yourself through the aftermath. When it finally slows, he slips out with an obscene squelch clamping a hand to the base of his cock and leaning heavily on the counter. 

"It's okay," As if on cue, you kneel in front of him as best you can, tugging down your shirt to expose collarbone and the swell of tits. 

Miguel growls, grunting as he splatters thick cum across your chest, pumping his poor cock through it. 

He wouldn't have lasted a second longer, not with that smile across your face; smug as you swipe fingers across your chest and lick up the mess he's made. 

He's sighing, tucking himself back into gray sweats and pulling you up with a hand in yours; grumbling as you absentmindedly follow him to the sofa. 

You're leaning back onto the arm of the tattered material, and he settles to sit so your legs lay in his lap. He's frowning, again, and it makes you giggle, still licking up what's left on your fingers. 

He rolls his eyes, tapping a spot on your chin. A fat glob of his cum, dripping from your jaw to your neck. You miss it on the first swipe, and he gets impatient on the second, grabbing your hands and clambering over you. He drags the flat of his tongue to your skin, licking it up for you – and your eyes go wide. That… that felt good. 

You giggle at the sensation, so attuned to your roommate that you can hear it: his eyes clattering into the back of his skull, as he rolls his eyes a second time. 

"Is that okay?" He says it into the skin, pausing over a particularly tender spot. "Not too far?" 

"Feels nice, Mig." You sigh, content. Sun streams in on a lazy morning, and you're sore in the kind of way that feels good; fucked out and blissful. 

You lean into it, and then he sucks , teeth clashing onto the skin as he gives you a hickey and the juncture of your jaw. You wriggle, and he pins you down with one big hand holding down your arm, nipping and kissing and soothing it with a flash of tongue. This time he smiles, wrapping around your middle, tugging down your shirt to decorate your chest with hickeys. You play with his hair, wrapping soft curls between your fingers. 

You spend a little too long like that; curved into him, spines moulded to the shape of each other. It feels nicer than either of you would care to admit; the pretense of sex wrapped around you both like a thin veil. Before he leaves, Miguel indulges himself just this once; head on your chest and sinking into those arms wrapped around him. You smell like coffee and sweat and Autumn, somehow. He presses kisses wherever he can reach, for a bit longer. 

Miguel is okay. He's doing just fine. 

_

_

-

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[turn3tifosi]

VI. the winner takes it all

lewis hamilton x ferrari engineer!reader

lewis and you are no strangers, but the hurt that followed knowing him, makes his announcement for 2025 nothing but dreadful for you

series masterlist | main masterlist

You remember how it all started. The excitement, the passion, the shared dreams, and the relentless ambition. You and Lewis had it all. Or so it seemed. As a top engineer at Ferrari, you lived and breathed motorsport, but it was your relationship with Lewis that made the moments off the track truly special.

It was Monaco 2016, the night before the big race. The sky was clear, and the stars shimmered over the Mediterranean. You met Lewis at a gala, the kind of event where the air buzzed with champagne bubbles and the murmur of high society. Lewis, with his charming smile and magnetic presence, was the center of attention, but when he looked at you, it was as if the world stopped. You talked about cars, strategies, and everything in between. There was an instant connection.

Over time, your relationship blossomed. The thrill of sneaking away for secret dates, the late-night conversations about life beyond racing, and the quiet moments where you could just be yourselves. Those were the times you cherished the most.

One night, as you both lay on the balcony of his apartment overlooking the city, Lewis rested his head on your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability from the world champion. “You know, sometimes I really wish I could run away from all the fame and people, and live a quiet life with you,” he whispered, his eyes closed in contentment.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the weight of his words. “No Lewis, you love this. You love the fame and the cameras, it’s me who wishes you could run away from it all. I’m the selfish one.”

But love is never simple, especially when it’s tangled with the relentless pressure of professional success. Lewis's career skyrocketed, and with every victory, every championship, the distance between you grew. You were proud of him, of course, but the endless races, the media frenzy, and the never-ending demands on his time left little room for you.

It all came to a head after his fourth world championship win. The victory party was grand, a glittering affair that went on till dawn. But amid the celebration, you felt like a ghost, invisible and alone. You tried to talk to him, but he was swept away by adoring fans, sponsors, and the endless parade of well-wishers. When he finally found a moment, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and for a moment, you believed he meant it. But apologies couldn't bridge the growing chasm between you.

You tried to hold on, but the nights grew colder, and the days lonelier. Eventually, the strain became too much. One evening, after a particularly brutal argument, you packed your bags and walked out of his life, leaving behind the man you loved and the dreams you had built together.

Fast forward to 2024. Your career at Ferrari flourished, and you buried yourself in work to forget the heartache. But fate, or maybe Lewis has a cruel sense of humor. The announcement came out of the blue: Lewis Hamilton was joining Ferrari for the 2025 season.

The paddock buzzed with the news, but for you, it was a gut punch. The thought of working with him again, seeing him every day, was almost unbearable. But you were a professional, and you wouldn't let personal history affect your work.

The first meeting was awkward, to say the least. You avoided eye contact, focusing on the technical briefing, the strategies for the upcoming season. But you could feel his eyes on you, a silent plea for acknowledgment.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension simmered. It all came to a head one evening after a particularly long day at the track. You were in the garage, going over some data, when Lewis walked in.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and strained.

You didn’t look up. “There’s nothing to talk about, Lewis. Let’s just do our jobs.”

He stepped closer, his presence impossible to ignore. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but-”

You finally met his gaze, the familiar pain and longing in his eyes. “You might have won the races and championships, but you don't get my heart back.”

He flinched as if struck. “I know I can’t change the past, but I want to make things right. I miss you.”

The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, but the wounds were too deep. “It’s too late, Lewis. We had our chance.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but you turned away, focusing back on your work. The silence was heavy, laden with unspoken words and lingering regrets.

Working together was a constant reminder of what was and what could have been. Yet, slowly, a new dynamic formed. Professional respect replaced personal tension, and while the past remained a painful shadow, you both found a way to coexist.

Lewis never stopped trying to mend the rift. Little gestures, a coffee waiting at your desk, a supportive word during a tough day. But you held firm, guarding your heart against further hurt.

As the season progressed, Ferrari thrived. The collaboration between the engineers and drivers was seamless, and the team’s performance improved dramatically. There were moments, brief and fleeting, where you saw a glimpse of the man you had once loved, not the racing superstar, but the man who had shared his dreams and fears with you.

And in those moments, you wondered if, maybe someday, you could find it in your heart to forgive. But for now, you were content to focus on the present, the thrill of the race, and the drive to win.

Because in the world of motorsport, as in life, the winner takes it all. And you were determined to be a winner, with or without him.

[babeyun]

falling alone ✩ l.hs [teaser two]

✩ series m.list | taglist form ✩ synopsis: cold cases were heeseung’s specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband’s. ✩ genre: established relationship au | hurt-comfort ✩ pairing: lieutenant!lhs x housewife!reader ✩ word count: 1.4k | [full fic: tbd] ✩ rating: 18+. minors dni. ✩ warnings: a little more pining between husband!hee & wife!reader, a bit of outsider help. nothing explicit ✩ author's note: hello everyone! i just wanted to let you all know that i am trying my best to get this fic out before the end of the year (and if i don't, i do go on winter break from uni in early december! so we can expect a few fics in that time.) this being said, i will add a taglist link here as well as the series masterlist because i cannot for the life of me keep up with urls at the moment. the people tagged below have already been added to said taglist, but if you wanna jump on and don't see yourself tagged, please fill out the form linked above! thanks!

Heeseung knows that Dr. Bahng told him to leave work at work. However, Dr. Bahng said nothing about bringing home to work. He said nothing about thinking about you at work, or missing you, or daydreaming about you instead of analyzing the reports that a pair of rookies messed up. He also said nothing about reading articles by some sketchy romance columnist on how to keep your relationship alive, which is exactly what Heeseung was scrolling through right now. 

There are things in a relationship that must always be shared in order to avoid, or resolve conflict. How the other person is making you feel, how you are making them feel, and how to tackle both negative checklists properly. It is key to always remember that it must be you and your partner against the problem, not you and your partner against each other.

You make Heeseung feel…alive. You make him feel loved, cherished, and even at some bizarre times, worshiped. You make him appreciate waking up at the ass crack of dawn, your sleeping face relaxed as he peppers kisses across your warm skin – something he's thankful never manages to wake you up, but it adds to all the adoration he holds in his heart for you.

How does he make you feel? Dejected, neglected, rejected. Pushed aside for the true love of his life – work. You never bring it up unless he asks. You never brought it up until last July, when he was slumped in his office chair after drinking half a bottle of sherry whiskey, listening to music and thinking about yet another dead end that deterred him from finding Soyoung. You had approached him with a gentle gaze, a soft touch to his shoulder and asking about taking a shower together. You never questioned him, you never pressured him, you never tried to make him something you assumed he just wasn't – an attentive, doting husband.

And he remembers how he asked you, too. He remembers spinning around in his chair, asking you if he was everything you'd ever wanted. Asking you if he was living up to your expectations, as a husband, as a life partner, as a friend, even.

And he remembers the way you sighed carefully before perching on his desk. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I'm sure you'll continue to grow and be even more deserving of the love I hold for you." You had smiled, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Nothing we can't work through, you know? If I was given a choice in another life, another world – I'd still choose you."

He will never forget it, and he can still feel the warmth of your lips against his as you led him to the bathroom. He can still feel the ache of your love on his skin from the way you held him under the running water, quietly basking in his presence as the mint of your shampoo filled his nose. Nothing is as special to him as you are. 

There are things that should routinely be shared in order to maintain a homeostasis of the calendar. Asking how their day was, if you have any ideas for dinner tonight, or if you'd like to do something this weekend to celebrate the mundane. It shouldn't be difficult to establish a routine with your partner, if you are in tune with them. A kiss goodbye in the morning, a warm embrace in the evenings. A shared meal, a shared bath, a shared bed. 

Heeseung can't remember the last time he fully checked in with you – you always have something to do. You always attempt new creative projects, and his fingers toy with the fabric of his slacks as he remembers that you hand stitched them. He thinks about how you waited for him all night yesterday, and the disappointment you must have felt when he arrived late. He thinks about how he just doesn't make time to tackle the problem that you two are constantly glossing over by being intimate – he knows you don't feel loved. 

He didn't ask you about your day yesterday, or the day before, or last week. He didn't ask you if you were sewing anything new, learning any new pieces on the piano collecting dust in the living room. He hasn't asked about your mother, but at least he knows you don't like to talk about her. 

Heeseung hasn't asked you a single thing about yourself, or your life, and he doesn't know how long it's been. Even last night, your eyes were focused entirely on him – the way his lips twitched when you said you liked the wine he chose, the way he pulled your leg over his in the booth you were sharing. You asked him about work, and he just shook his head as he pointed out the new menu items. 

You love him so selflessly.

Something that works for my partner and I is parallel play. We aren't necessarily doing something together, but we are present in the same room and doing our own thing. Knowing that he is there, and that if I need him, I can reach for him, adds a comfort to our relationship. Aside from this, we also come together every two weeks and address any issues we may be experiencing – both in our relationship and our individual lives. We resolve the issues about us together, and advise the other on our personal issues. Balance!

You do this a lot. If Heeseung is home, you'll wander to wherever he is and sit down where you can, and quietly go about your business. Sometimes it's a new cross-stitch, sometimes it's just putting a headphone in and listening to music. Sometimes you're giving yourself a pedicure, sometimes you're just sitting there staring at his corkboard of paraphernalia while matching your breathing to his. It was subtle, something you thought he'd never notice.

He sighs, exiting out of the tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. Tugging it on, he uses one hand to log out of his computer when he hears three knocks on the door. A lightness of the rapping knuckles similar to yours…and your smiling face appears as you crack open the door. "Surprise?" He hates that he can't bite back his smile, a few of his fellow officers wide-eyed at his expression. He nods silently, and you extend your hand for him when you hear his coworkers whispering about you. With a dejected look, you tuck your hand back into the pocket of your jeans, "Guess we don't want them gossiping, right?" "Right." He mumbles, his own hand twitching around the doorknob as he pulls it shut behind him. He wants to reach for you, embrace the warmth you bring, show you off to the people he often calls his friends. Sunghoon catches his eye, a quizzical look on his face before shaking his head. 

Heeseung reaches for you, but you've already made your way towards the door. Your smile has lessened as you open the door, holding it for him. "How was work?" You ask as he joins you in the cool air, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close, his nose buried in your hair. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, instead leaning back to try and meet his eyes. "Hee?" "Don't ask me about work." He mutters, before pressing his lips to yours softly. You let out a noise of surprise, but you can't melt into his touch before he pulls away. "I hate talking about work, let's talk about you. Over lunch." He takes your hand in his, gently pulling you to his side as he makes his way to the car. He doesn't see yours in the parking lot, so he only assumes you got a rideshare before you clear your throat. "Are you okay?" The words are slightly jumbled as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you, helping you step in. "Hm? Why do you ask?"

"Well…you're actually out of the office. And you want to go to lunch…and you don't want to talk about work?" Your voice is meek, and it makes his chest ache as he reaches to buckle your seatbelt in for you. "I just want to spend time with you. Shall we?" His smile is a little forced, until he sees the soft gloss of embarrassment over your eyes. "Okay."

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

A/N: Hello everyone! This is an Azriel x Archeron!half-sister reader series, featuring a slow-burn romance, angst, and possibly a sad ending. Don’t worry, they’ll eventually get together even if it doesn’t have a happy ending. I don’t know how many parts it’s going to have. It begins in ACOMAF chapter 24.

Chapters: 35/?

Summary: Y/n Archeron is a cold and sometimes cruel human who was turned fae against her will. As she navigates her life as a fae, she begins developing feelings for Azriel. Having never been in love makes her weary of these new found feelings. Whenever he gets closer than she anticipates, she pushes him away*.

*at least for first 30 chapters, the rest would be spoilers.

Chapter I: Summary: The eldest Archeron half-sister Y/n hates Fae kind, due to tragic past events. When she unexpectedly visits her sisters, she is met with the very race she hates.

II: Summary: To Y/n's dismay, the Illyrians keep coming to their home, and despite her initial reluctance to engage in war talks, she becomes entangled in the political world of the fae. This ends with her worst nightmare becoming a reality.

III: Summary: Y/n is adjusting to her new life in the Night Court, where she finds herself interacting with the Illyrians much longer than before, whether by chance or by force. An unexpected encounter with Azriel ignites something between them.

IV: Summary: Y/n is intrigued by a certain illyrian. They open up to one another one night, but she stops it from getting out of control. With Feyre’s return, things get more tense.

V: Summary: Tension rises as Y/n only makes things harder for everyone around her. After moving into the Town House, she is attacked by the King’s soldiers.

VI: Summary: Y/n decides to attend the meeting with the High Lords, where she is more open and relaxed than usual.

VII: Summary: Y/n chooses to remain at the Dawn Court, but Rhys allows her to stay for only three days, entrusting Azriel with her safety.

VIII: Summary: The Inner Circle prepares for war. Y/n and Azriel grow closer, and a shocking revelation unfolds on the battlefield.

IX: Summary: Y/n learns the truth about her powers. When Azriel is injured rescuing Elain, Y/n tends to his wounds.

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