#Nothing is born from hatred | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alicesivory · 2 months

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I was all over her.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! reader

warnings: angst, sad Aemond, minor spoilers from hotd s2 ep 2, 3, and 4, not much smut but MDNI!!

WC: 4517

summary: when the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Don't know what I wanted, I have a memory

Throughout Aemond’s life, he remembers how much he wanted to be seen.

By his father,

by his mother,

by his brother,

by the whole world.

He wasn’t the heir to the throne, he didn’t have a dragon like his brothers or sister. He was weak and nothing. He spend his days being teased and bullied relentlessly by his brother and nephews. They had venomous tongues and big sharp teeth. He hated the way he is.

But when the world turned their back on him, one person remained.

She was a Tyrell, born not long after his mother gave birth to his youngest brother Daeron. His grandsire and mother are close to her parents since the Tyrells and Hightowers are two houses that are closely related.

When he first met her back in oldtown, he saw her as a meek and shy young girl. He hated it. Because it reminded him of himself. But his hatred grew when he saw how well she gets along with Aegon, Daeron, even Helaena. Maybe he doesn’t hate her, maybe he just hates how he’s nothing like her.

Likeable.

Then it all changed in one summer evening.

He was reading at the great library of oldtown, away from the world as he read about his great ancestors of old valyria and dragons. Dragons he longed to have. Like Aegon with sunfyre, Helaena with Dreamfyre, even Daeron with Tessarion. Then he heard a thud.

Looking back from his seat, he saw no one was in the empty library but him.

When he returned to his book, he heard another thud.

Shutting the book with frustration, he began to look for the source of the sound that disturbed his peace. Walking deeper between old tall shelves, he took a turn to the left and saw…her.

Younger and smaller than him, but the Tyrell girl grunts as she climbs the bookshelf. Strong but mighty. The way her silly tongue sticks out as she’s so persistent to reach a book at the tallest shelf. He cleared his throat as he looked down, noticing many books had been scattered around the floor for her to climb.

She turned to him with a surprise stare.

“Prince Aemond!”

As a child, she squeaks like a squirrel

Aemond thought to himself.

“What are you doing up there?” Aemond asks curiously. “I..I’ve been trying to reach that book!” She says as she still tries to reach the book at the highest shelf.

“You will hurt yourself,” Young Aemond sighs.

“Can you help me, my prince?” she asks as she jumps down from the shelf.

“No-“

“Please!”

“Absolutely not-“

“You’re far much taller than me!” She says pointing at his height.

Even as children, he has always been taller than her.

Aemond sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

And he did it.

Not for his own pride, but for her.

“Oh thank you!” She thanked him with a smile when he easily reached and took the book she’s looking for. The girl hugged the huge book in her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal, whatever,” Aemond says, acting nonchalant while he dusts off his clothes. “It is though, I wouldn’t have been able to reach that book if you weren’t here!” She says with a bright smile.

Heat rose up to his cheeks. No one ever ‘relied’ on him before.

“Biarvose,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting her to know. But she heard him and tilted her head with curiosity. “Are you speaking high valyrian? It sounds lovely! Can you teach me?!” She asks cheerfully.

“What, no I’m not-“

“Please! I want to at least learn something new!” The girl says excitedly. Before he could answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to their seats in front of the fireplace. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” She says as she sits down beside him with a smile.

Can’t believe he’s doing this.

But…it felt nice. The way she wanted him to teach her. She could’ve asked Aegon or Daeron…yet she chose him.

“It’s…”

He mentioned her name. He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“…Tyrell, right?”

She nods.

And since that day, and for the whole summer he taught her high valyrian in the library. Word by word, he was patient to teach her. He hates to admit it but she actually was a fast learner.

She was his first true friend.

She was the first person who makes him feel like he has a purpose in life.

Until they took his eye.

Just a year after he knew her, by the time he turned 10 he had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in Westeros. But for a price, which was his eye.

He became the same boy who hated the world.

Never came back to oldtown or any places except the red keep. Afraid what the world might say about him. How ugly he looked with his scar, one of his eye missing, but most of all he was afraid of what SHE might say about him. Afraid of rejection, how she’ll stop spending time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came inside his chambers. Bringing in the young Tyrell.

“Aemond, she’s here to see you,” Alicent says, in a slight pleading tone. For he has shut himself out from the world when the maester stitched him. It hurts and it will hurt even more if he knew that all that people will see in him was a monster.

“Go away,” he says coldly, his chair facing away from the door.

“Are you feeling any better?” Her sweet gentle voice asks as Alicent has her arm around the little girl.

Sometimes he just wants to run and hug her for comfort. For she was his escape from this cruel world. Her optimism makes him alive. He didn’t want to lose that.

“I said go away,” his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“I brought you-,”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” He shrieks, stepping down from his chair and throwing his cup at her direction as he turns around, accidentally showing her his scar. His true self.

Alicent quickly tried to shield the young girl as she screamed. Shielding her from him.

From him.

“Aemond!” Alicent scolded her son.

Yet his mother’s scolding didn’t matter to him. He saw his friend’s…his only friend terrified expression. He scared her. He hurt her. Just like how the world hurt him.

He took a step back.

“I…I’m sorry,” he says lowly before returning to his chair.

He wanted to cry. But it hurts if he does.

Then he heard slow and tiny footsteps.

And she…she placed a toy dragon at the table. As her hands tremble.

“I carved Vhagar for you…father taught me how to carve.”

The young girl says bravely. Yet Aemond wasn’t brave enough to meet her eyes. Not after he hurt her. So he says nothing.

“Get well soon, my prince,” she curtsied and hurriedly returned to the Queen. Leaving him alone in his cold and empty room. Only the sound of crackling fire filled the room. Aemond loved silence but this time…he hated it.

So he reached out, taking the wooden figure of his dragon into his hands. And by the time Queen Alicent returned to his chambers, she found her son asleep in his chair.

Holding the little dragon in his hands, close to his chest.

Back at that party, I was all over her

The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was at his fault and he couldn’t deny it any more.

Kinslayer. Thats what they call him now.

His betrothal to one of Borris Baratheon’s daughter came to an end once Vhagar snapped her sharp teeth onto Vermax’s body. No one wanted to marry a Kinslayer.

A crippled and a kinslayer.

What a fucking combo.

But he firmly believed that everything that has happened to him was meant to be. Because if it weren’t for it, he wouldn’t be shaped as he is now. And he has to be better. Every sword training, every lessons, and at every war..he must be the best.

But that little boy inside of him still clings onto him till this very day.

Especially when his mother mentioned her name.

For he shall now marry her to strengthen the allieagance between their house and the Tyrells. They needed this. And he shall do it for them.

He convinced himself it wasn’t personal and he doesn’t wish to meet her and just arrange the marriage ceremony. Secretly afraid for what she’ll think of him now.

A kinslayer, a cripple…a monster.

For they have not met again since that very night in his chambers.

And when he saw her gain at the grand sept for their wedding, may the gods help him.

She has grown into a woman. Not a young child anymore.

She smiled to her family, giving them a nervous thin smile.

Does he makes her nervous?

Does he scare her?

The ceremony was done in the sept. Not a grand wedding like any royal ceremony would be for they are at war and it’s ignorant if they host a grand wedding in the midst at war.

He couldn’t help but to stare how different she is now. How reserved and mature her body language is as she gracefully walks around with her long dress dragging through the cold stones of the sept. She was…beautiful.

“My prince,” she says as she curtsied. Even her voice has changed. Now it felt as if honey were dripping down her tongue.

“My Lady,” he greets back stoically. Not wanting her or anyone to read his mind.

“How are you, my prince?” she whispers as the ceremony begins. Still making small talk as always, yet he yearns for it. He’s deeply grateful that she still wants to talk to him. Yet it has been awhile since he properly talked to her, it made him nervous. “I am well,” he whispers back. His healthy eye looked into hers as they were pronounced husband and wife. He finds nothing but nostalgia in her eyes. She is just how he remembered her.

We didn't make out or do anything

I just remember I was lonely

He didn’t like the idea of a bedding ceremony.

Where people would see him…and her.

It’s unnatural…and unfitting.

So he ordered for the bedding ceremony not to be done. But he promised that he shall take her that night and they can inspect the bedsheets in the morning.

When he stepped into her chambers, he found her anxiously standing beside the bed. A weird tense atmosphere swept the room.

“I..,” she wants to speak.

“I would like to say thank you for…not letting the bedding ceremony to happen-“

What is this? Does she not want everyone to see us together?

His anxious mind and overthinking took power over him.

“Who said it was done for you?” He snapped at her as he closed the door.

Shit. He did it again.

And she was quiet once more.

I scared her again.

“But…still…I still want to thank you…my pr-“

“Husband,” he sternly says walking past her.

“Pardon?”

He took a jug filled with wine and poured it onto his empty cup. He at least needed a cup of wine if he wanted to bed her right.

“I am your husband now, am I not?” He asks, not looking at her.

“Oh yes…husband,” she says with a nod, fiddling her skirt.

Aemond turned around and took off his attire and was left with his tunic, yet she just stood there beside the bed, not being able to move.

She was nervous.

He looked at her, unsure what he should do. Should he comfort her? Should he take her quickly so they didn’t have to endure this pain together? No- no no no he didn’t want to hurt her.

Then he saw her slowly opening her nightgown. Her hands trembling like when he hurt her as a child. She slips her nightgown over his chest-.

It’s been awhile since he saw a woman’s body.

The last time was…..was…

“Stop.”

She curiously looked up to him, only halfway through from being naked. “I-is there something wrong?-.”

“No,” he quickly answered, looking down with shame.

Yes. There is something wrong.

When Aegon took him to that brothel…at the age of 13..he…he couldn’t- it scarred him.

She’s not like them. She’s not like that whore.

It’s only her, it’s just her!

His mind battling inside his head as he stood at the other side of the bed. He blamed Aegon for ruining something that should be meaningful for a man and woman. Ruining something that should’ve been meaningful for him and her. He blamed the brothel, he blamed his brother, and foremost he blamed himself.

He can’t bed her.

Not like this.

“We must…do our duty,” he says, trying to mask his insecurity and vulnerability in front of her. Trying to mask the same 13 year old boy who was terrified when he stepped into the brothel for the first time.

He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t want to see her being disgusted by hi-

“Yet you don’t want to,” her voice was gentle and kind. Not a hint of mockery at sight.

“I-“

“I don’t want to do this either.”

He looks up, finding her shielding her chest with her nightgown. That sight aroused him terribly. He wanted to touch her, wanted to make her happy and satisfied. He wanted to make her smile. Yet he saw the same little girl that admired him as a child. He didn’t want to fuck her, he wanted to make love with her.

But he didn’t know how to.

So he just…stood there. The two of them stood there and said nothing.

Just as he thought all hope was lost, she puts on her nightgown and stepped away from the bed.

She’s leaving.

She’s disgusted by me.

“What are you-.”

She took a butter knife and roughly slits her palm, letting blood drip to the bed.

He stared at her.

“There. They’ll think I lost my maidenhead,” she says with a little smile plastered on her face. “No one will know.”

His eye drifts into her still bleeding palm. He groaned walking towards her, ripping a cloth and wrapped her bleeding palm with it. “Mittys,” he muttered under his breath. She chuckles, “You haven’t taught me that word yet.”

And for the first time in a lifetime, a genuine amused smirk was plastered across his face. “Stay still,” he ordered, tightening the cloth on her palm.

When he was done, she gazed up at him for a moment. “How long has it been?” She suddenly asked. “I have not been counting,” Aemond replied, still holding her scarred hand. She slowly then pulled him to bed, sitting down. “You must stay for awhile. Or else they’d be suspicious.”

Gods be good.

She was too kind for him.

And he joined her, laying on the bed side by side. He wonders if she’s still afraid of him as their hands brushed against each other. He never realized how much he craved for her touch. Wondering what it feels like to be held by her. Would she be gentle? Or would she push him away?

“Usōven,” he muttered, looking at her. Apologizing for that night.

She turned her head to look at him. And smiled.

“I forgive you.”

I guess I am always, it's not a problem

It's just something, I got used to it

It got worse.

His yearning for her.

He was afraid to touch her, for he did not want to touch her like a whore. She was his equal. He didn’t want to hurt her.

So he lets all of his frustration to Madame Sylvie. He was attached to her even before his wife returned to his life, yet her presence made him worse. With the war…and his guilt for the death of Lucerys…and now the presence of her…it frustrates him. Every single time he fucks that whore, he thinks of her. He imagined that it was her in bed.

Imagined that it was her holding him.

At Least he could keep her safe from him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He never meant for it to happen in the first place.

But when he returned from his sins back to his sacred sanctuary, he finds nothing but horror in the keep.

They murdered his nephew.

Prince Jaehaerys.

A son for a son.

It was his fault his nephews were dead.

It was supposed to be him who’s dead. Whose head should be beheaded. Not his nephew. Not anyone.

After inspecting his chambers, he rushed to his wife’s room. Finding her in bed, holding Helaena and Jaehaera as the three girls cried. He saw how terrified the three of them were, but he noticed how she cradled his sister and his niece. Whispering nothing but reassurance to them. “It’s okay, they’re gone now…you’re both safe,” he heard her. She has always taken care of Helaena and the kids well.

Noticing his presence, his wife looked up, finding him unable to move from the doorway. She lets go of her grieving sister in law and niece as she walks to him. Her eyes were teary and red.

Oh how he hates to see her cry.

He looks down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“Where were you?” Her question rang through his ear as her voice cracked on the last word she spoke. Guilt consumed him- no. Guilt starts to eat him slowly but surely. Eating him alive as her wife, her sister, his niece, and his brother grieve for the death of the young innocent prince. He couldn’t say a word, instead hugging his wife tight as she cried into his chest. Sobbing loudly as the castle was filled with darkness. Not a light of hope in sight.

“No one will hurt you. I swear it to you. I’m here..i’m here,” he whispers to his wife as she cried.

He might’ve gotten used to the pain people put on him, but he realized that he would never ever get used to seeing her cry.

He would never let anyone hurt her.

He would protect her from the cruel world.

Even from himself.

Every stranger makes me feel safer

And every person seems more beautiful

“I do regret that business with Luke, I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it.”

“They used to tease me, y’know? Because I was different.”

He knew he should be seeking comfort from his wife, but he couldn’t. As much as she makes him feel like him…he was still afraid his wife would see right through him. To judge him. So he couldn’t. Not to her.

He feels safer in the arms of a whore, who has no power over him. While his wife, she had all the power to control him if she could.

Nights went on and he sneaked out secretly. And no one knew. He was safe. His secret was safe.

Until Aegon…had to ruin everything like he always did.

Humiliating him was always his brother’s hobby.

Blinded with anger, he stomps and storms back to the keep. Wanting his brother and the world to disappear. He wanted to be alone. He hated everything. Yet he didn’t realize that a certain someone was still awake.

Closing Helaena’s bedroom door, lady Tyrell exits the queen’s bedroom for Helaena finds comfort from her sister in law. Just as she wanted to call it a night, she’s standing face to face with no other than her husband.

“Aemond,” she says in surprise.

He froze. He didn’t know what to say. All the rage and humiliation were gone in an instant. His face was covered with guilt and fear. “Wife,” he answered with a hint of anxiety dripping down his tongue.

“Where have you been?” She chuckled, thinking that he was just out for a walk or something. In her mind, she would never ever even think that Aemond would be doing things like that behind her back.

Aemond stiffened, unable to answer. Before his brother always had to ruin the show.

“Look who it is!” Aegon says as his kingsguard follows behind him. “Your husband here…well, how do I say it..ah yes, was in the whore house, dear sister,” Aegon cackles, nudging Aemond’s arm before earning a hard punch from Aemond.

He saw red. He saw red in his eyes. He hated his brother. He hates him. He should’ve shut up. He never should’ve brought him to that place in the first place, he should’ve never returned to that place!-

“What..?” His wife’s voice slightly trembled.

Even when Aegon was in pain on the ground, he cackled. Obviously still drunk. “You heard me! He was fucking that whore like a hound!” Aegon continues to say and starts to make howling sounds.

Aemond saw how she started to grip her nightgown, her hands trembling. Her eyes were teary, not wanting to cry.

He disappointed her.

Disappointing the only person who has faith in him.

“I…I must go…sleep well your grace and….husband,” she says nervously as she curtsied at the two brothers before walking away.

He watched her walk away. Not daring to chase after her or call out her name. He wouldn’t dare, for he knew he disappointed her deeply. He hurt her again. Like how he did as a child. And now he’s sure she won't come back to him. This was the start of him losing her.

She hasn't talked to him since then. What used to be civil and peaceful. Her small talks and smiles weren’t present at his presence. She avoided him at all times. To the point where enough was enough. He couldn’t live like this. He needed her to talk to him. He doesn’t want his marriage to end like his father and his mother. He cares for her…he…he…he loves her.

And when he blinks, he finds himself standing in front of her chamber doors one morning.

He knocked gently.

“Come in,” he heard her sweet voice that he missed from her room.

When he enters, he received her sad and surprised expression.

“Husband,” she greeted stoically, looking away.

He then realized how her closet was wide open and empty. Her clothes scattered on the bed as he saw her stuffing her dresses onto her..

“What’s this?!” He protested.

“Mother said it’s not safe for me to be in kings landing. War is coming and…I must go home,” she says in a sad tone.

His heart sank deep hearing her words.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving him.

“You are not going anywhere,” he insisted, roughly taking dresses out of her hands.

“Aemond-“

“Not on my sight!-“

“But Aemond-!”

“You are safe here! With me! With Vhagar!” He exclaims roughly, taking out of her dresses from her trunk.

“Aemond, stop it!”

Yet Aemond does not answer.

“I will keep you safe. Vhagar will keep you safe, no one will never hurt you-“

“But you did!”

Silence.

Gods, he hated the silence between them.

“You don’t understand,” he grunts as he grips the bedsheets. “How can I understand if you never let me in?!” She protested, tears streaming down from her eyes. He doesn’t even want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her cry.

“See? You wouldn’t even look at me! You wouldn’t touch me, you wouldn’t kiss me, you…,” she points out.

Aemond sighs in defeat.

It was all his fault.

But then he roughly took off his eyepatch, towering over her, gripping her wrist as he showed his sapphire eye to her. “And would you? Would you touch this monster, hm? Kiss this husband of yours who’s the reason why two innocent boys are killed? The reason why this war STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!”

She flinched.

She closed her eyes, scared…waiting for him to do something to her.

It broke him.

“I…I..forgive me, I..,” Aemond lowers down his voice and hand, releasing her. Now guilt and shame has finally eaten him whole. He hurt her. Again and again. She deserved better.

Then came a knock on the door.

“Sorry for interrupting, my prince but..the council awaits your presence,” A guard said to him.

“I’ll be there.”

Aemond took his time and walked out of her chambers with her as her trunks were carried out from her room. It was present how there’s a gap between them. He wanted to hold her hand terribly, but he couldn’t. Not after what he did to her.

He felt how people were looking. Eyes on them as they walked through the halls of the red keep. He tried one more time to reach his pinky finger to hers but when they touched, she pulled her hand away to rub her other arm.

He lost her.

He probably never had her in the first place.

When they reached her carriage, he didn’t want to tear his eyes from her.

“I would, y’know?” She suddenly says with her gentle voice.

“Pardon?”

“I would…kiss and touch you,” she repeats. “The monster you said of…is still my husband. You’re still my husband,” she emphasizes.

Her words touched him somewhere in the deepest parts of his heart that no one has touched before. It made him frozen and unable to move a single muscle or bone in his body.

“I know that I am not what you needed, and I know that I’m nothing to you-.”

She was terribly wrong. How wrong she was. She meant the world to him.

She was…everything to him.

“I hope you will find what you’re looking for in the future.”

He didn’t want anyone but her.

They looked back and saw people watching.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

She has always been far much braver than him. So she walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just beneath his eye patch. Beneath his scar.

“Geros ilas, my love…avy jorrāelan,” she whispered to him before pulling away and stepping into her carriage without looking back.

And little did Aemond know, that will be the last time he would ever get to see her.

In his heart, he blamed the world again.

He blamed his brother.

He blamed everyone and everything that took her away from him.

Maybe in another life, the war wouldn’t have happened, Aegon wouldn’t have took him to the brothel, Lucerys didn’t take his eye, and maybe.. he could hold her like a normal person would. Maybe they’d have children…and maybe…maybe she’d stay.

But right now, he walks back to the keep to assemble their army. To rook’s rest. To prove his brother and the whole world. To win this war.

For her.

a/n: Hello everyone! I’m Alice and thank you so much for reading! Fyi I used to write on tumblr but my old account was like semi suspended? Idk I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t comment on people’s post so now I’m here and uhh hi🥹I hope you enjoy this one shot and I’m only gonna write fics mainly about the Ewanverse so you’re in for a ride🫶🏻🤗 I’m gonna write more in the future and thank you for sticking around until the end of this fic! Thank you once againnn💞💞

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g1rlken · 3 months

Text

┏ Like real people do ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

summary: The reader is Aemond’s new bride, a match fixed some time before Viserys’s death. Daemon’s daughter through Lady Royce navigates through a difficult now into a new chapter of being married to the one eyed prince, council and war.

warnings: daemon being an awful dad, Luke’s death, attachment issues, angst, slow burn, arranged marriage

word count: 5.1k

Part 1. Part 2

Worlds changed, dragons spew fire, flowers burnt and flowers bloomed, children born and doomed. Y/n, Daemon Targeryn’s first born through Lady Rhea Royce. A child he had despised ever since her birth, just an extension for his hatred towards Lady Royce in the first place. He could never stand her, having been forced to his duties he hated her even more. He was never around for the aftermath of anything, the rogue prince who knew no bounds. The child wasn’t even half a year old when he mercilessly put an end to Lady Royce. The ‘accident’ left the child at the kindness of pitiful wet nurses and the castle staff.

King Viserys however couldn’t stand such tragedy over and over, he generally refrained from interfering his brother’s life. He did regret his decision of marrying daemon to someone against his will but he could not have anticipated such a harsh counter reaction via Daemon. Especially after the babe, Viserys thought the child could perhaps soften the coldness of their relations but it only got worse. The king wished to seek some atonement at least for the sake of the child. Y/n, the princess, away at the grasslands of Runestone. He arranged for her to live at the red keep, a motherless child with an absent father would do better within her present family. The King’s children through alicent were mere babies themselves. The maids, the kind Queen herself, would do well to look after the infant. After all the red keep was her house just as much as it was Daemon’s despite his grievance towards it. Her dragon too was well looked after through the keeps instead of Runestone staff. Her dragon was just a hatchling as y/n too was a baby herself.

Alicent, younger at the time. The keep’s staff, mastered in squalling babies and fussy infants. Y/n wasn’t a bother at all. Not that she were to remember but Queen alicent was kinder to her than the fates had been, she nursed her like one of her own. Such fondness and softness towards daughters, it was nice enough. At least for a while. Y/n was six by the time daemon had come for Rhaenyra’s wedding, then off with Laena. No familiarity between the six year old y/n and her father. Too young to understand her family setting and Daemon still rancour.

Daemon had two daughters with the driftmark princess, viserys deemed him capable enough to raise y/n then. He decided to send little y/n back to her father, viserys wanted his brother to accept his daughter. Alicent had a smaller voice at that time yet she tried to reason with her husband to let y/n be at the keep. Daemon had to accept his brother’s whim anyways so he did. Viserys was as relieved as Alicent was anxious that y/n was in Pentos. King made the decision in good faith, if only he put a bit more distrust in daemon than he did trust. Daemon was still the same, y/n, still a child and he did nothing to make her feel included or at home. She learnt to keep to herself how she had seen Haelena do. Still quite young to comprehend where all such distaste came from, all these different people, different land. She longed to call a place home, her memories of the red keep, Alicent, the others it kept fading because she was but a baby back then. Her father wouldn’t teach y/n how to ride on dragon back how he did with her half sisters. But y/n had taught it to herself. Watching she learnt, she didn’t have to be told explicitly what to do. She fell a lot, on her face and back but she learnt anyways.

As years passed nothing changed between y/n and her father, her half sisters were company enough time to time but she was always in their orbit and not as close. All until Driftmark, they lost lady Laena. Y/n was in her early teens and she tried to be there for Baela and Rhaena. She stood by their side through their mother’s funeral. She understood the gravity of such tragedy, she lived with that grief all her life for her mother who was a stranger she never even met. But she mourned her longer than she’d known her.

Reunited with Alicent, gaining a distasteful look from Daemon. “You’ve grown so much” Alicent remarked as she pulled the girl into her embrace. Both of them looked so much different from when they last met each other. The girl had distant memory of the queen but her warmth was nicer than she had known anyone else’s. Despite the occasion alicent was brought some peace of mind seeing Y/n, she didn’t look her best but at least not the worst. She didn’t have to ask y/n to know if Daemon spoke to her, if she felt at home. She reintroduced y/n to her children, some of them y/n didn’t even remember through faces if not for name.

“She was such a small babe.” Helaena commented as she greeted the young girl. It had been years since Helaena had seen her. Aegon and Aemond just stood with disinterest, Aemond trying to mask it otherwise regardless.

After the tragedy that was which followed Laena’s death upon the nightfall of her funeral. Aemond’s eye was taken and it was a rather gruesome unfolding. A night which left a permanent distance between families. A mark which shaped Aemond for years to come.

As the years followed, dragonstone proved to be just as dreary and awfully lonely for y/n. None of her half siblings were her own or ever treated her as such, unsolicited kindness was all she would get here and there and she had accepted surviving it. Thinking of lives far away, a place where life would begin. But it was perhaps never. As King Viserys’s health worsened the queen and hand took matters into their own hands bit by bit.

The queen, declared that it is but the king’s wish for Aemond to be married with y/n, Daemon’s firstborn. Viserys was asked about it, surely, his decision was firm and wearily elated about the marriage so what does it matter who pitched the thought as long as the king agreed. Aemond was agitated. He did not want it, at all. For the ever present and abiding Aemond he had a rift with the thought of marriage to y/n. But he kept his shortcomings to himself.

Even more so mortified was y/n, she didn’t remember how exactly was her childhood at the red keep but she did recall that ever since driftmark, that family would surely not have a soft heart for her. “Father please don’t-please don’t make me do this” she pleaded Daemon.

“It is the King, my brother’s wish.” Daemon said in a disregard of her wish, surprisingly he was fine with his brother’s second hand wish too. Daemon was aware that the Hightower queen and Otto is who pulled all the strings and his brother was a bed ridden king but this was a decision in his favour as long as he could be rid of y/n.

“You cannot marry me off like this!” She exclaimed, for someone who rarely expressed thoughts to daemon. Something she learnt in all those years with being met with cold shoulder all of life, she had to fight for her life as of now. “Not to Aemond, please father please, I do not know any of them-“

“You do. You have spent most of your childhood at the hip of that Hightower queen you will be just fine.” Daemon scoffed with a bit of condescension in his voice. Indifference as he referred to Alicent.

“I do not remember them” y/n tried to reason, any wet nurse could show sympathy to a high born motherless child she did not account to be in a marriage with that sympathy at this stage in her life. “They are complete strangers, father, please I will stay wherever you ask please don’t marry me off!”

“You are of age, y/n. This is a fitting decision for you!” He exclaimed with growing irritation at this conversation, daemon never paid mind to her moreover chose not to and hence he had expected her to show nothing but compliance.

“For me or for you?” She asked with a bitter huff looking away from her father already losing hope in this conversation, she couldn’t stomach this decision without letting him know her repulsion of it. “You are so eager to wash your hands off of me as if I have ever wronged you, all my life, I’ve never asked for anything-“

“Haven’t you?!” Daemon said loudly, his rage visible in his tone “The fact that you exist is asking too much of me as it is. You are an awful reminder and a mistake. I have been subjected to duty and honour and it is only fair if you are too. It is your duty, if not to me then to the King.” With that the door was slammed as the rogue prince walked out, an ironic vision of her life.

A bitter goodbye and an uncertain life with little to no hope y/n was set for the red keep, glancing back at dragonstone for one last time. She didn’t know if she held any homely softness for that place in her heart but she presumed the life which awaited her would be more dreary than the stone.

The wedding was an intimate affair, a small ceremony but still a lot of strangers y/n had never seen. Daemon refrained from attending but it was no surprise. She was met with warmth and affection from her mother in law and her family but not her husband to be, they were all a strange set of people down here in the south from the maids to the king himself who didn’t even sit on the throne yet made decisions.

Even the most beautiful flowers would wither away at the heavy heart of the new bride of new title, the princess. She couldn’t stand her person she was becoming or moreover the mere idea of what she had to be. Aemond wouldn’t even share the same bad as her, almost every night for the first week. He’d rather sleep on the sofa or some nights he’d just never return from wherever he wandered off to.

Barely getting the grasp of it, small domestic solaces just everytime she was with Halena and her mother in law, tending to her niece and nephew. The only time she felt less alone but she was familiar with the loneliness, that wasn’t the problem. It was the nerve wrecking confusion and uncertainty that followed after, eating her alive every night that she would lay. Within strangers now, she felt a stranger to herself too.

Days passed, circumstances arose: the king fell. Aegon was declared the king, a restless unease of an upcoming war. The hand’s very first decision was passing daemon’s seat on the council to y/n. “What?” She asked wide eyed as the hand and queen pitched it to her. “Why, me? I’m not even that learned…” she trailed off.

“You spend most of your time in the library, you happen to have a knack for reading. I’m assuming you can write too?” Otto questioned, if more number of people on the council were his own to mould and speak for the rule would be so much easier.

“Yes but just letters and scrolls..” she trailed off with a sigh, it was rather strange they would approach her for something as important as the council in the first place.

“We need sharp mind of a soft heart on the council.” Alicent said as she caressed her daughter in law’s cheek, with a smile to put some confidence in her. Despite her father’s motives of having y/n on the council, Alicent believed y/n would prove to be rather fruitful and genuine.

“It is also your birthright, through your father’s seat on King Viserys’s council. It is only right if you were to be a part of it.” Otto added in an encouraging manner. The pieces were being set already, as the blacks were processing their own steps.

They had Aemond set to go meet lord Dorros the very next morrow, with a bribe of the crown’s coin and loyalty. The forces set, Aegon’s coronation done. Just one last afternoon council left. Aegon, riding the high of his coronation wasn’t present in this one.

Everyone took their respective seats, it was an eventful morning’s slow afternoon. The coronation was as eventful as it was unpleasant with the beast beneath the boards. Sending out scrolls to other lords, the council discussed it. Y/n didn’t say anything, just listening. Writing out the needed scrolls, Alicent quietly remarked her beautiful hand at the words.

The door slammed open as Aemond entered, he was enraged at his wife’s seat on the council. “Aemond.” Alicent said as the room stiffened.

“What is this?” He asked with as his brows furrowed, he felt very wronged and partially frustrated that his lady wife had a seat on the council above him.

“It’s a meeting.” Otto declared as he looked back from the board back to Aemond, “Not yet done, what is your business here?”

“What is she doing here?” Aemond inquired as he leant over a chair, more belonging in this room than anyone else. Especially his wife, he thought to himself the other members with an awkward look on their face.

“She has a seat extended on the king’s council after her own father, daemon.” Otto filled him in on the subject, visibly disinterested.

“Daemon’s claim on the council died with my father’s death. She holds no such extension.” Aemond reasoned calmly, very much opposed to the irritation rising inside him.

“I’m still a hand to the king aren’t I? Your mother is on the council. Lord Tyland-“ Otto replied back but was interrupted by Aemond midway before he made his point.

“None of them sworn against Aegon. Daemon has called for the pretender hence his seat on this council holds no significance.” Aemond scoffed looking down at his wife who sat, scrolls lay in front of her and a pen in her hand. She felt overwhelmed with such necessary distaste, the hand to the king and queen mother herself asked her to join the council yet Aemond had an issue. It’s not as if she were to act against the interest of the crown or make big decisions to begin with.

“She is the princess. Your lawfully wedded wife, in the eyes of the gods and all the members of this very council and more. Despite Daemon’s treachery and your incoherent jealousy she belongs here.” Otto said breaking Aemond’s mouth, he knew which nerve to exactly hit. Saying Aemond was jealous, of his lady wife’s seat in front of everyone. It was enough to send him seething back and he was right. With a huff as he stared down at y/n, he turned to his heel at left.

Everyone had their accustomed part with a potential war brewing. Aemond had to leave to meet lord borros next morning. Y/n assumed he would be calculating and supposedly busy with his task at hand yet he found time to cause a scene at the council. Y/n knew that nobody on the council saw her as a threat because they all knew of daemon’s indifference for her. The black sheep. In truth she didn’t owe her father any loyalty either so their calculations were correct, her husband however.

She planned to avoid him regardless, spending the rest of the day with the twins, Helaena talking her ear off about her fixated spider and y/n loved that too. Jaehaera was playing with y/n’s hair, adding her toys into it making improper braids. Jahaerys running in circles and hoarding his toys in y/n’s lap as she enjoyed a conversation with their mother.

Alicent walked in, for a moment just taking in the domesticity of the scene. The serenity, the girls laughing. It was rather rare before y/n to see Helaena at peace like this. She entered with a soft knock greeting everyone and she took a seat next to y/n, “Children you must retire your auntie now, it’s rather late!”

“It’s alright mother, it’s not that late.” protested, Haelena she enjoyed y/n’s company as much as the whining children, Jaehaera caged y/n in her tiny arms from her back to not let her go. However through alicent’s hesitant eyes y/n realised she must have some sort of business to discuss.

“Forgive me my loves I am growing a bit tired…but I’m not going anywhere I’d be back soon enough!” She said with a sigh as she kissed the twins goodbye, both of them a bit protestant but let her go eventually. “Good evening, Helaena.” She smiled and bid her goodbye as well and exited with her mother in law.

After they were out in the hallway, secluded of other ears Alicent proceeded “Are you alright?”

“Yes, your grace” y/n replied with a non hesitant nod, in an instant with a smile confused why would that question come up.

“Mother.” She corrected her stopping on her way to turn to face her.

“-Mother.” Y/n said with a soft smile rephrasing her title.

“After…today’s council. You have been avoiding Aemond?” She asked searching for y/n’s dreary eyes.

“No-that is not the case” y/n shook her head trying to formulate a better answer given she hadn’t asked that question to herself. Because in a sense she was avoiding Aemond. “I—“ she breathed “I am rather anxious.”

“Of what? Does he speak to you in an ill manner? Do you wish for me to talk to him?” Alicent inquired concerned for her hesitation of Aemond’s lashing out or whatever it was she was trying to avoid.

“No-no it’s not that…I just feel guilty. He wants an authority, his opinion to be heard at council level and I get that place before him, we’re not at the best terms to begin with and now he must be cross with me” Y/n explained her worry with a sigh.

“And? It is your right, y/n.” Alicent said as she took her hand into hers in an affirming way, “you must never feel guilty for claims that are solely yours.” She explained, “as of Aemond, he can be difficult sometimes, but I assure you he isn’t malevolent. He loves you.”

The Queen mother’s assurance felt it came from a place of gentle constitution and the motherly naïveté of overlooking some things but y/n was more than aware that Aemond did anything but love her. She was familiar with lack of warmth, affection, just so far from it she could almost find strange ways to dwell in it. It was an emotion she knew for so long, from her father’s house to her husband’s, bricks of her old life and no love.

But she did not tell alicent of her wearies, after all she did not worry about it she was at terms with it. But she was worried meeting Aemond, as of now, she walked the hallway to their shared bedchamber with heavy breaths. Aemond was looking out the giant window, he had a journey to make the next morning to the baratheons yet he wasn’t resting or preparing. Much to y/n’s demise she hoped he’d be off somewhere else. She closed the door behind her as she entered, Aemond never talked to her generally. She never spoke unless spoken to but today silence weighed heavy between the two of them.

“The meeting ran late did it?” Aemond asked without looking back at her, he could tell from the soft stride who entered their chambers.

“No, I was with Helaena…” She trailed off growing strangely anxious because she felt answerable to him. As if it would compensate him and that was her burden to bear. “The meeting was rather trivial”

“Was it now?” He scoffed in a bigger way and turned to face her, “You must have provided the trivial meeting with your other worldly wit and understanding of warfare.”

“Aemond” she said taking in a sharp breath, meaning to tread carefully “I know you are upset. Believe me I did not know beforehand of the planning nor was it offered to me, the hand-queen mother they deemed it as my duty and right and I did not have other choice otherwise I would’ve asked you…”

“Asked me what?” Aemond interrogated crossing his arms as he leant against the stone pillar, her feigning nonchalance and false sympathy irritated him to no end.

“To take my place” she answered. She meant it in a genuine sense because she did not hold the same passion or want for a seat on the King’s council the way Aemond did. It was far from her. “I’d rather you take my place, I have no wish for authority on the council. I could ask the hand to-“

“You truly are the imbecile I presumed you to be.” He said assertively as he stiffened, his shoulders tight. “Are you that naive? Do you think I would need your help to put myself on the council? Yours?” He said as he huffed, berating her was his intention. Y/n remained silent, unmoving in her place no matter however she tried and help him or soften the rift in their marriage he was always imbecile from it. In the meantime he walked a bit closer to her, towering over her given his taller stature he leant forward by a bit to make himself appear intimidating.

“My apologies then.” She muttered lowering her gaze from his because she felt rather scrutinised by him as if she was at fault for something, as if she had wronged him. “Excuse me” she said before he could reply and attempted to retreat away to the adjoint bathroom. Wait out him falling asleep or leaving. The newlywed with their peculiar marriage of indifference.

Aemomd’s return from his errand with the Baratheon lord contained of a difficult detour nobody had anticipated. Rather difficult, to navigate such a blow through warfare. The council, y/n merely heard and spoke four sentences on an average, was shocked. No idea of action status not war treading. Circumstance heavy on everyone. Shame and disregard.

Sitting by the burning lamp, late evening, the scrolls and letters were to be written with such urgency after what happened with lucerys y/n had to take it to her own desk. Too busy with the works she barely processed the loss yet, she did not know Lucerys as a brother but an acquaintance who was rather kind to her all those years.

She barely looked up when the door opened, only when Aemond drew closer. Rather too close to her desk, he leant on the table where she was writing. Close to where she was sitting he breathed heavily. Putting the pen down and the scroll aside y/n looked up at him. “What did the king say?”

“The king?” Aemond repeated with a small laugh, he was still getting used to the new titles but referring those even behind closed doors was somewhat strange. “Aegon, he is not the most serious about it. Collateral damage he said.” Aemond repeated the words, he was never fond of the bastard himself but he never planned to take such drastic step. “Grand sire had a lot to say and mother, she is disappointed. Perhaps everyone is disappointed?” He asked emphasising ‘everyone’ referring to her. He did not know of his lady wife’s connection with the Strong boy but his own mother had a dislike for him and yet she was disappointed.

“I don’t know warfare as good as the lot of you, but” she nodded to his previous implication of being disappointed in a way, such loss must be difficult to stomach for those really close. “It is a lot…”

“Do you grieve him?” Aemond asked, his tone non threatening nor interrogative, subtly calm.

Pausing y/n thought about it for a moment, she was quick to side with the hand’s cold and calculative decisions as her mother in law suggested writing Rhaenyra letters instead, y/n herself weighed heavy on practicality as if grief was non existent. In a way it was. “I don’t know” she said puzzled “We were never close but he was kind to me, not all of them and not everytime but whenever he could be…” she trailed off. “He was easily anxious about a lot of things, scared.” Last time she had seen him it was the dinner for King Viserys upon the discussion to heir of driftmark. The scene that followed that dinner was distant in y/n’s mind until now. The same inferior fright was in Luke’s eyes that day.

Aemond did not say anything, her words made him feel guilty even more so but he would never display to anyone. He fought for his life debating to the council, to grandsire that it was an accident however not enough for him to take accountability of it as if he had done something wrong. He knew he had, but he did not show it. He could not. It did not come from a place of sympathy nor altruistic intentions but an ambush of unsolicited guilt. “Is it true?” She asked him.

“What is?” He replied as her voice pulled him out of his thought and his gaze met hers, she still sat on the desk the soft orange hue of the lantern on her face.

“You hold no regret?” She asked him referring to the conversation he had with the council when he was confronted about what happened. He did not owe his truthfulness to anyone, especially not the council.

The heavy silence between the two of them told her more than his words could, her eyes softened as he pondered his unsaid exoneration. Nobody would believe him but she might just, “I did not mean for that to happen, nor did I plan it.”

There was a crack in his demeanour, very different from how he presented himself back in front of everyone else about the the whole ordeal. Accountability seeping in and he should know, “Acting bigger than the situation won’t provide you with the atonement you are looking for.” She told him, forgetting herself when he asked for her advice and she assumed in such delicate state of mind he would rather lash out than listen but he did not. He was present, here to listen. To her? So far he had made it so very clear that he held no regard for her whatsoever.

“I am not looking for atonement.” He said more to himself than to her in a gentle tone and a hint of lostness in his expression. He longed for something, some consolation of some kind but he did not know exactly what and he felt restless with heavy emotions.

“You are.” She answered for the question he did not ask out loud, however the epiphany of it was not lost on him as he looked at her like an open wound. He did not protest her because she was right, she held the answers to herself. She could think for him despite of what he did and it unsettled him in some way because he had never felt such softness of anyone else. To know that he had done something he would have to seek atonement for and…hold regard for him still?

“Do you see me differently then?” He asked, small fright creeping him on the inside if she affirmed his answer.

“No” she replied without hesitation nor enthusiasm, she did see him less ruthless and uncaring than she had previously known him to be but she did not tell him that in this state of mind of his. However the heavy silence and the remorseful tension was too much to bear. She stood up from her chair seemingly to leave and attend some other task, just then realising he stood rather close. Before she could attempt to move away he stopped her. Holding her by her wrist he pulled her close but he was already close enough, the distance shortening this small for the first time since their wedding.

“Do you truly, not see differently?” He asked again with searching eyes. He couldn’t do with her short no however affirming as it was it wasn’t absorbing. It did not feed to his shame and guilt.

Y/n did not know how to soothe his wearies, she never thought her perception would matter to him at all. The walls within their marriage came crumbling down as he held her wrist it seemed, she wasn’t going away yet he kept a hold of her. To ground himself more than her. After staring into his eye for what seemed like an eternity she simply pulled him into her embrace, in a tight embrace. Her arms holding his broad stature the best they could, raising on her toes to bring him as close as she could.

Aemond was stunned to say, for a moment. He could not fathom she would want to tread so gently with him after what he had done he did not expect such, such softness. As he enlaced his arms around her waist, hugging her back as he raised her closer to him. His person. He had never felt such warmth and love of hands that would show soft affection even after knowing his ugly work, he was met with her comfort when he deserved retribution. It nestled his spirit in a serene place, he worried the place would vanish if he let go off her so he didn’t. He kept holding her close to him, closer of it was possible as he buried his face by the crook of her neck.

After a while she pulled away but not entirely, resting her temple against his. His soft breath on her as she sighed closing her eyes. He followed to, until he met her gaze again. His impulse wanted to touch her face to make sure she was real, that this moment was. So he did. Fixing the loose strand of her hair behind her ear he cupped her face. She did not move away, heart racing in such gentle exchange between the two of them. It was a first and he did not want her to extend her boundaries for his sake but he could not stop himself, he brushed his lips against her.

Indulging in a passionate kiss, holding her face in his hands as if she was made of porcelain. It was the first time somebody had held y/n with such fragility. Such affection was very foreign to her all her life, even the kiss on their wedding day felt forced and ceremonial. But this felt real, it was. She kissed him back and held him close, standing in the light of a desk lantern, the moonlight seeping in and lovers who might just be alright.

—

—part 2.

I am sorry if this feels rushed, i skipped season 1 bc i want to do all of s2…please let me know what you think in the comments 💕

If you want to be in the taglist pls comment AND go drink water RIGHT NOW ILY SO MUCH !!!!!!!!

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #Aemond Targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanart

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prettyboykatsuki · 5 months

Text

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.

It's relieving in the worst way.

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little.

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.

You look at him.

“You’re horrible.”

“Tell me something new.”

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”

“The contract. Are you serious about that?”

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”

“And that’s me?”

“Seems like it,”

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.

“...Fine.”

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.

“How would I know?”

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”

Sukuna barks a laugh.

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.

“Thought of something, brat?”

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?”

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”

“There what is?”

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”

“What is it, oh.”

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”

You don’t even think about asking what he means.

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #dark content cw #incest cw #dubcon cw #abuse cw #grooming cw #<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY

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wonusite · 1 year

Text

I Hate U, I Love U

❝ After finally managing to escape the lifelong rivalry you once had with Yoon Jeonghan, you’re unexpectedly thrown back into the undesirable feud after receiving a scholarship to the most prestigious private school in the city. Despite your attempts to leave the past in the past, you discover too late that you’re the only one interested in letting the vendetta go. Years later, there’s a switch in dynamic when you’re the one unwilling to let it go. ❞

PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x female reader

WORD COUNT: 20.8k

GENRE: enemies to lovers au, rich kid au, college au, model au, fake dating au, angst, (tiniest bit of) fluff, smut

WARNINGS: they’re in high school at the beginning of this, rich boy!jeonghan, frat boy!jeonghan, former rich girl!reader, model!reader, classism, asshole parents, drinking, scheming, mild violence (1 slap), reader and jeonghan are pretty terrible to each other, repressed feelings, revenge is a recurring theme in this, lots of arguing, star-crossed lovers vibes, heavy on the regret, jealousy, fake relationship (but real feelings oops), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pussy drunk!hannie, cockdrunk!reader, multiple creampies, squirting, overstimulation

a/n: still can’t believe i sat down and wrote this much. hope you guys like it! based on this request (sorry it took so long rip). minors dni!!

You can still remember the exact way you felt when your family lost everything and was left in poverty. Back then, your reality had become a twilight zone that left you feeling misplaced. Fate was cruel to make that exact feeling resurface now as you’re standing at the gates of your new school.

An emotion that could’ve been written off as typical anxiety from being the new kid is actual nerves caused by the unhealthy obsession your parents have with reclaiming the status your family once had. Inexplicably, they both believed the main way to do this is to be better than the Yoon family.

Embarrassing as it is, this fixation of theirs dates back to before you were born. In particular, it’s your mom’s unrelenting need to be better than the Yoons that got you into this unfavorable situation in the first place. She can’t be fully blamed, though. Everything dates back the feud her first husband (your father) has been part of since he was a kid.

As a child, you didn’t fully understand how deep the hatred ran. You also didn’t realize that being the heir to your family’s fortune meant that their vendetta had become your burden to bear (and somehow still was). Naively, you believed everything was over the moment your family was left with nothing. It wasn’t until you were leaving your house that your mom made it clear she still expected you go head-to-head with the heir of the Yoon family.

Believing that Yoon Jeonghan would still be willing to partake in a petty rivalry with you isn’t realistic, but your mom is beyond seeing reason at this point. Restoring the prestige of your family name came before anything now (even reality). In your mom’s eyes, beating the only son of the Yoon family seems to be the only way to do it.

This new-but-not-new obligation is the reason you can’t stifle the sick feeling that overcomes you as you walk through the front gates of the most prestigious private school in the city.

The campus is larger and more extravagant in person. Every single thing—from the wide pathways to the elegant topography—screams money. Students are scattered in front of the building, clad in the expensive uniform that’s currently draped over your own frame. The sight of designer bags, stylish shoes, and glamorous jewelry is a reminder of what once was and will never be again.

As if that daunting fact isn’t enough to make the dread in your gut paralyze you with anxiety, the cold looks you get are. Maybe you’re paranoid, or maybe people are actually sneering at you because they recognize you. Either way, this feeling of wanting to disappear doesn’t go away.

You stop walking to dig in the pocket of your jacket to pull out your phone. It’s a pathetic attempt to look like you’re not a total outsider who would rather be anywhere else. Unfortunately, your actions don’t provide you with the comfort you’re looking for. You wonder if hiding somewhere inside would stifle the nerves you feel. As fate (and your rotten luck) would have it, you don’t get a chance to make that decision.

In a sudden instant, you feel a body collide with your own. You recoil with a surprised gasp when a hot liquid spills all over your chest and torso. The distinct smell makes you panic. Coffee stains are the worst kind, and you just know your mom is going kill you if the uniform she worked so hard to pay for is ruined. Panic seeps into your chest as you start to wipe at your wet clothes without looking up. It’s futile, but just thinking about the consequences that you’re going to face if the overpriced uniform got ruined makes you want to throw up.

“What the fuck!?” The loud yell draws the attention of all the people within the spacious vicinity. “Watch where you’re going, you fucking idiot!”

You furrow your eyebrows angrily, and before you can lift your head to see who’s yelling, you feel an empty cup hit your feet. The remnants of the coffee splatter on your shoes and the lower part of your shins. Somehow, you feel cold despite the coffee being scorching hot.

The surprised guffaws and gasps seem muffled because of how loud your heartbeat is. A yell of your own is building in your throat, but when you look up, you’re suddenly at a complete loss for words. It all feels like some horrible nightmare because you find yourself looking at a face that you never wanted to see again.

Like a scene out of a cheesy movie, your (former) sworn enemy is standing right in front of you.

For some inexplicable reason, you can’t find your voice. You can only stare at Jeonghan with a dumb expression on your face. The embarrassment and anger you feel clash together and whirl inside you like a tornado, but even the intensity of your emotions isn’t enough to get you to express them in the way you want.

Jeonghan feels very pleased with himself until the unknown girl lifts her head. He blinks once, twice, and a third time. This doesn’t have the effect he desires because the image of you isn’t going away. Many years have passed since he last saw you, but he could never forget your face. Jeonghan might’ve thought he was dropped in the middle of some bizarre dream if it wasn’t for the harsh hammering of his heart. It really is you standing in front of him, looking like you’re two seconds away from murdering him.

“What the hell is your problem?” You seeth, no longer able to push down all the anger you’re feeling. “You’re the one who ran into me, asshole!”

Never in your life had you seen someone turn so red in the span of two seconds. You briefly wonder why Jeonghan feels so embarrassed when it’s you who’s dripping in coffee with what feels like the entire world laughing at your expense.

“Y/N?” His voice is incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

It’s a stupid question to ask considering the fact that you’re literally wearing the school issued uniform and have a school bag slung over your shoulders, but you know what Jeonghan actually means: How is it possible that someone like you is attending this school?

You aren’t about to dignify him with an answer since it seems like the watching crowd is itching for a show. Giving him a reaction is only going to make you look crazy, and you won’t give him or anyone else that satisfaction. It seems like you’re the only one that feels this way, though.

“You can’t hand wash the uniform. It has to be dry cleaned.”

Once again, the snickers and mocking whispers sound deafening. Instead of punching him in the mouth like you want, you somehow convince yourself to keep a level head. “Whatever. Move.” You snap before shoving past the stunned boy.

Once you get away from that embarrassing scene and find a bathroom, you shrug off your jacket to assess the damage. A scowl brings down the edges of your lips when you see the dark stains the coffee left behind. With an aggravated sigh, you glance down at your uniform. The front part is somewhat damp and a bit dirty, but luckily for you (and your mom’s bank account) the stains aren’t too prominent.

You take a deep breath before lifting your head and squaring your shoulders. It doesn’t matter that this already feels like the worst day ever, you can’t lose sight of the goal your mom has in mind. And you definitely can’t let Jeonghan of all people derail those plans. Playing into his petty games isn’t something you can afford to do anymore. Not that you want to, anyway.

When you finally calm down and decide to face the day, you find Jeonghan standing outside the bathroom, waiting for you. His shocked gaze from before is long gone and replaced with a hostile one you're more familiar with.

“I guess the standards of the scholarship program have hit an all time low.” He says as he falls into step beside you. “Do you really think coming here is going to change anything? Someone like you doesn’t belong here.”

You try your hardest to ignore him, but he keeps following you. Briefly, you wonder why it seems like he’s eager to pick up where you two left off. Were his parents thinking the same thing as yours, or was this something he was doing on his own?

“I’m talking to you.”

Finally, you stop and turn to him with a mean glare on your face. “I can see the years have done nothing for that pea-sized brain of yours. No matter how much you want me gone, I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you think you’ll somehow claw your way back up the social ladder, you can get rid of that pathetic idea right now.” Jeonghan all but growls, feeling a type of anxiousness he hasn’t in years. “You don’t belong in this world anymore, and you never will.”

Maybe he was right, but that doesn’t matter. You’re not thinking of running away, especially from him. “Scared I’m gonna take your spot at the table?”

“Yeah, right.” He laughs, but it doesn’t sound as confident as he wants. “Someone like you will never take anything from me.”

You look at him and let out a contemptuous laugh. It had been years, but Jeonghan had remained painfully unchanging. The crazed look in his eyes and tone of voice makes you smirk. “You are scared.”

Jeonghan practically has steam coming out of his ears. He can’t say anything, and he’s not entirely sure why. You’re not at the same level as him anymore, but that doesn’t seem to shake any of that annoying self-confidence you’ve always had. Ironically, it feels like he’s the one on unsteady ground. An anxious feeling seeps into his stature because it’s like he can already hear his dad’s disappointed voice for letting you of all people shake him up.

“Well, you should be.” You say, wanting to get under his skin. “Because I don’t need money to get the things I want.”

Maybe those words triggered a reaction out of Jeonghan that was deeper than you realized, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as you got accepted into the private school, your fate was sealed.

The day doesn’t get much better for you as it goes on. Studying amongst the blue bloods wouldn’t be so bad if you happened to be a regular poor person, but since you and your entire family fell from grace all those years ago, you don’t have the luxury of going unnoticed. Their sly comments and sneers don’t hurt, but they are unbearably annoying.

Expectedly, you’ve made no new friends. Nearly every person looks at you like you’re an unwanted parasite, and you have a strong inkling that it has everything to do with what happened with Jeonghan in the morning. It’s not surprising, but it makes you feel more alone than you expect.

When the school day is finally over and you think you can finally get away from all the turmoil you’re feeling, you walk out the building to see the one person who can make this day even worse. Your dad isn’t alone. He’s accompanied by his wife and her son, Seokmin. You barely have time to digest seeing him after so long before he’s turning his head in your direction and makes eye contact.

In a split second, his smile falters until it’s completely wiped off his face. The oh shit look he has on his face makes an unmistakable revulsion force its way up your throat. Many would feel comforted by the sight of their father approaching them, but all you can feel is the dislike and lack of affection you have for him. Briefly, you wonder why he thinks it’s a good idea to come up to you when it’s clear he didn’t know that it was also your first day of school.

“Y/N.” The way he speaks your name is awkward and unsure. “What are you doing here?”

If one more person asked you that, you swear you were going to rip your hair out. Instead of snarking at him to use his fucking eyes and take a look at what you’re wearing, you respond as calmly as you can. “I applied for a scholarship last year.” You tell him, feeling like you might cry. “Mom said she left you a message.”

The grimace on his face makes you feel stupid and embarrassed, but you can’t walk away like you want. It feels like your feet are rooted to the ground, and there’s also the (not so) tiny fact that your mom would never forgive you if you walked away.

“I... I was going to call, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.”

You’re tempted to tell him that you know he hasn’t given you a single thought in the last four years. It’s blatantly obvious that his stepson is vastly more important to him than you are. You know that, and it no longer hurts as much as it used to.

“Mom said she called you last week.” You repeat, trying not to let your voice give away all the emotions brewing inside you. “She wants us to have dinner together tonight.”

His remorseful expression changes, and you know that he’s about to make things difficult for you all over again. “Y/N, today isn’t—”

“Never mind.” You cut him off, not in the mood to hear his excuses. “Your family is waiting for you, and mom’s waiting for me at home.”

Your dad’s wounded expression doesn’t make you feel anything. Especially not when you notice Jeonghan and his idiot friends gawking at you from afar. You don’t give your dad a chance to respond before you turn on your heel and walk away, hoping the angry tears poking the back of your eyes don’t fall before you get out of their line of sight.

The trip home is longer than usual now that you have to take two buses instead of one. It gives you time to think, although, you wish you didn’t have so much time to ponder your rampant thoughts. All you want to do is get home and sleep off the exhausting day you had.

Unfortunately for you, the universe had other plans that went directly against your wishes.

Directly in front of your apartment building, you can see your mom waiting for you. She has a pensive look on her face that can easily been mistaken with vexation, but you can’t be sure when it comes to the same woman who never reacts the way you expect her to. It’s rare to see a bright expression on your mother’s face these days, but she beams as soon as she sees you approaching.

“Y/N!” She hurries over to you with expectant eyes. “Did you see your father?”

You wish she didn’t look so excited as you nod silently, but her eyes seem to shine as she continues with her questioning. “How did it go? Did he agree to come tonight?”

Of course she only cares about that. Not how your day at a new school was or if you were adjusting well. She didn’t care if you liked the school nor was she interested to know if you made any friends. It’s not disappointing anymore, just irritating.

“He didn’t know that I got a scholarship.” Like she told you a month ago. “He didn’t even show up to see me.”

The excited smile slips off your mom’s face instantly. Her gaze turnes dark as a deep frown settles on her features. “What? How could you be so stupid?” Her voice rises into a hysteric yell. “I ask you to do one thing, and you can’t even do that right!”

You clench your jaw as if that will somehow relieve the anger that’s washing over you. Her degrading words are nothing new, but today it’s getting to you more than usual. “It’s not my fault he wants nothing to do with us. I told you—”

“Shut up.” She growls. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I knew I couldn’t count on you.”

A humorless laugh rips from your throat before you can stop it. “Then you should’ve talked to him yourself instead of making me do it since you’re the one who wants to beg him for money.”

Knowing exactly how to get a reaction out of your mom is always satisfactory, until it isn’t. “I’m only doing this for you! Do you think I want to beg him for money after he abandoned me? All I’ve done since he left is try to give you a better life, and I’m sick of you punishing me for it!”

You could’ve laughed at the absurdity of her words. How could she think that when all these years it felt like you were the one being punished? Instead of telling her some overdue truths, you let out a quiet scoff. “Whatever. He wasn’t going to agree to come no matter what I said to him, and you know it.”

Her silence feels like a victory, but it’s a temporary one. “What I know is that you’re only capable of disappointing me.”

You don’t get a chance to respond before your mom brushes past you with an infuriated scowl. You look back angrily, watching her storm into the building. There’s a familiar anger burning fiercely in your chest as the argument lingers in your mind. She’s not worth your anger, but you can’t stop the overflow of every ugly emotion you’ve been bottling up since the morning.

Things don’t get better after that first day.

Unfortunately for you, going to the city’s most expensive private school doesn’t get any easier with time. The year passes by slowly, and you can’t truly enjoy it because you’re either studying or working. It’s hard to do both, but you aren’t left with much of a choice since your new school brought about unexpected expenses that your mom can’t afford to pay for alone.

As the months pass by, you wonder if all your hard work is really worth it. This dangerous thought lingers in your mind when you get to school on a rainy day after missing your first bus. You’re wet, cold, and tired. After pulling an all-nighter because you had to study for your history test, you’re not in the best mood. And because you apparently had the worst luck ever, Lee Seokmin just has to approach you to remind you that your dad’s birthday is just around the corner.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” You wonder as you half-heartedly shove books into your locker.

“I just...” Seokmin’s voice is meek and nervous. “Are you going to come to his party this time?”

It’s funny that he assumed you were invited this time or any of the other times. “No. I have work that day.”

It’s not exactly a lie. Despite not knowing what day the celebration would be, you knew that you’d either be busy studying or working. Not that this seems to click with the trust fund brat that was abnormally attached to your father.

“You can’t ask for the day off? It would mean a lot to dad if you came.”

His sentence makes your chest and stomach tighten with incredulity and annoyance because it’s so out of touch with reality. You can’t even laugh or feel angry. It’s tempting to tell him that you know your dad couldn’t care less if you went to his birthday party since he hadn’t even bothered to tell you when or where it was happening. Somehow, you manage to stifle your growing ire to respond civilly.

“It’s not like he’s going to be devastated if I don’t go.” You say calmly despite wanting to express the emotions that keep gnawing at your chest.

Seokmin frowns at your impassive attitude. “Of course he’ll care. He’s still your dad—”

“Listen.” You cut him off, slamming your locker shut and finally turning your angry stare at him. “You don’t know shit. Just because he’s played the part of the perfect daddy with you for years, doesn’t mean that’s who he is. So just leave me alone before you piss me off.”

Seokmin shifts uncomfortably, wishing that he hadn’t said anything in the first place. He never meant to antagonize you despite what you’re clearly thinking. He just wants to find some common ground with you. Childishly, he believes it’ll get rid of the guilty feeling he gets every time he sees you.

“Sorry.” Seokmin whispers. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Taking out the resentment you have for your dad on Seokmin doesn’t make you feel better. Somehow you manage to feel even worse after he walks away from you. This dejecting feeling doesn’t go away even as the day goes on. It actually gets worse when you sit down at the library to study during your free period.

It feels like your mind is coming to a crashing halt after being on overdrive for months. You try to pull through even though you’re fucking exhausted. All the effort you’re putting into your studies is so you can win the Merit Scholarship that would pay for your college, and burning out at this point in time wasn’t an option. The prospect of finally piecing your life back together to the way it was before makes it a little easier to ignore the fatigue and stress that lingers in your bones.

But for some reason this day (and the universe) seemed to be working against you.

“You’re fucking lying.” The voice is familiar, but you can’t place it.

“I’m not.” Now there’s a voice you recognize. It belongs to Joshua Hong—a.k.a the evil church boy who identifies as Jeonghan’s bestie. “I was there when he did it.”

“There’s no way Yoon Jeonghan applied for the Merit Scholarship.”

Those words make you freeze. Everything around you becomes a blur as disbelief clouds your senses. Instead of your mind racing with an excess amount of thoughts, there’s only one that keeps bouncing around in your mind: Yoon Jeonghan did this on purpose.

“He turned in the application months ago.” You swear you can hear a smirk in that deviant’s voice.

“Did his family go broke or something?”

“Yeah, right.” A different voice scoffs. “His dad just donated more money to have the arts building expanded. He definitely doesn’t need that scholarship.”

There isn’t many things you can see eye-to-eye on with the snobs at your school, but that last statement is definitely one thing you can agree on. Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t need the scholarship. If you were anyone else, you would think him applying for the scholarship was some mystery with no reasonable explanation, but you know better. This was all because of your refusal to concede to him. Your actions had obviously struck a nerve with his pride, and now he was going to hit you where it hurt.

You can’t even be fully angry. Not when it’s such a well thought out scheme. Still, you feel sick and unable to keep siting still to study. So you quickly gather your stuff and leave the library without noticing the pair of eyes that are watching your every move.

Josh snorts and pulls out his phone, quickly typing a message before sending it out with a satisfied smirk on his face.

It’s done. You should’ve seen her face LMAO.

If you think you can leave school peacefully to try and feel better, you’re proven wrong when you run into Jeonghan as you’re going home.

“You’re leaving already?” He says in a sickly sweet voice as he starts walking beside you. “Maybe you should stick around and study. You won’t win the Merit Scholarship by slacking off.”

“I don’t need to try that hard to beat you.”

There’s a subtle change in Jeonghan’s eyes as he glares at you. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Don’t forget that no matter how smart you are, you’re still a nobody to the people that matter.”

Maybe you should’ve been less naive of the situation. Jeonghan was an asshole, but was also right. You just didn’t know it yet.

Jeonghan begins to bother you more often after he lets you know he wants the scholarship. The remainder of the year he constantly torments and mocks you with the help of his snobby friends. Ignoring them isn’t easy, but the thought that you won’t have to put up with them for much longer helps you power through.

Before you know it, the day the winner of the scholarship will be announced arrives.

The school has an entire ceremony dedicated to academic excellence, and you happen to be one of the students being honored. Friends and family were all encouraged to come since they were giving out multiple awards. Since Seokmin wasn’t getting an academic award, your dad didn’t bother to show up, but he did encourage you to beat Jeonghan via text. You didn’t care so much because you had your mother there, and for the first time in a long time, she seemed genuinely happy. You could see her beaming at you proudly from where she sat.

In spite of all the arguments and resentment, you were thrilled that all your hard work had paid off. Finally, you were going to get your life back. All you had to do was win the scholarship and everything else would naturally fall into place. You’re seated in the second row as the head of the foundation that provided the scholarship steps up to the podium to announce the winner.

Unfortunately, the name of the recipient for the Merit Scholarship is not yours. Maybe the blow wouldn’t have been so devastating if the name that was announced didn’t belong to Jeonghan.

That asshole is sitting in the row in front of you, and like the final killing blow he always delivers when messing with you, he turns around to give you a triumphant smirk. Anger and disappointment clash inside you as if fighting for dominance to see which one is the more prominent feeling. You can feel your hands trembling and your throat tightening. The situation is unjust and cruel, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone except you.

This intense feeling worsens the more the situation sinks in. You don’t even want to look at your mom because you know she’s the only person who’s more angry and humiliated than you are. Everyone is cheering and clapping, but you physically can’t join in. Pretending to be happy for someone who had quite literally just ruined your life was something even you couldn’t do.

When the ceremony is over, your mom doesn’t say anything. Her expression is grim and veiled with muted anger. It makes the nerves in your stomach coil into an uncomfortable knot as you follow her out of the auditorium. You can’t say anything as a thick silence engulfs you because you know anything you say won’t be enough to appease her anger.

“This is just fantastic.” Her words come out in the form of an insincere laugh. “I worked my ass off to send you to this damn school, and this is how you repay me?”

It’s tempting to tell her that you’re the one who worked hard to get into the school despite never wanting to step back into this world, but instead you bite your tongue. After all, there’s no point in arguing with her. No amount of rage or disappointment will change the fact that you won’t be able to afford your dream college. With your current financial situation, pursuing higher education was out of the question, and because of your loss, so was the relationship with your mother.

“After all I’ve sacrificed!?” Her angry voice seems to echo throughout the large hallway, and you can feel the lingering people start to stare. “I’ve given up my entire life for you, and you couldn’t win that damn scholarship! You lost it to Yoon Jeonghan of all people!”

“Mom.” Your voice is flat and tired. “That’s enough. People are staring.”

Pointing that out would usually be enough to get her in check, but the deranged look in her eyes tells you that her anger goes beyond any embarrassment that her behavior might cause. “You’re not even sorry, are you?” She scoffs in angry disbelief.

“Neither are you.” The words come out before you can stop them. “You never had a problem with using me as your meal ticket until I didn’t win, right?”

You hear a chorus of shocked gasps when a cold hand collides with your cheek. A stinging sensation is left behind that has a different type of anger coursing through your veins. Your hand trembles as you bring it up to hold your throbbing cheek. Angry tears pool in your eyes as you look into your mother’s remorseless eyes.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” Her voice borders on a yell. “Every single thing I’ve done has been for you and your future. If I knew you were this useless, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Your mom brushes past you as if you’re a perfect stranger to her. As if you mean nothing to her anymore. Holding the stinging tears in your eyes is painful, but that doesn’t compare to the hurt your mom’s words left behind.

Anger and misery collide together to form a weighing pressure on your chest that makes it difficult to breathe. It feels like your throat is closing in on itself, and you wonder if it’s because of the sob you’re holding in. The heavy tears fall from the top of your lids before you can try to blink them away. It’s humiliating, but you can no longer suppress your emotions like you’d been doing the whole time.

The burning sensation in your cheek has turned into a dull ache at this point, but all you can focus on is the feelings that are eating you from the inside. You see your peers and their families gawking at you. The whispers, snickers, and pitiful glances feel like daggers cutting into you, yet all you can do is stand stolidly and cry silently.

Just when you think you can’t feel any worse, you catch sight of Jeonghan and his family walking out of the auditorium with the head of the foundation. His father is shaking hands with the man, patting him on the back like someone would do to a longtime friend. Which is exactly what the head of the foundation is to him.

Now Jeonghan’s words from before made perfect sense. You’re a fool to realize it this late. Not that it matters anymore. Everything is over now, and all you can do is walk away.

“Your dad really outdid himself.”

Jeonghan offers the girl on his arm a disinterested hum. Honestly, he’d rather to be anywhere else but the gala his dad throws every year. Magnificent as it always is, it’s so boring and draining that it feels more like work than anything. His eyes keep scanning the room for any sign of his friends—or anyone that will save him from his boredom.

“Oh my god!” Mina releases his arm from the death grip she has on it to push past him. “Is that Y/F/N!?”

Jeonghan has to pause for several reasons:

1) Hearing that name after so long makes his chest and stomach flip in the most unpleasant way. 2) It’s unlikely that this airhead heiress is talking about you, but if she is, how is it possible that she knows who you are? 3) There’s no way you would be at his dad’s gala. 4) After disappearing for three years, it doesn’t make sense that you would suddenly appear here of all places.

But when he follows Mina’s line of sight, he sees that it is you, looking more elegant and gorgeous than ever. You’re wearing a designer gown that looks like it was custom made, and you have a tall, six foot nothing piece of arm candy by your side. Even Jeonghan can’t deny that you look like a picture of perfection, and he can’t even begin to figure out why or how you’re at his dad’s gala looking like that.

“And she's with Kim Mingyu!? Oh my god, I have to get a picture—!”

Jeonghan thinks Mina is joking until he sees that she’s already halfway across the room, which is the fastest he’s seen her move all night. Maybe the champagne has gotten to his head because there’s no fucking way any of this is real right now. To his horror, his date actually makes one of his father’s business associates take the picture.

“Close your mouth.” A familiar voice orders. “It’s unbecoming.”

His mom is coldly stringent with the delivery of her words. She doesn’t look surprised, and it makes him feel sick. What the hell is going on?

“Your father invited her.” Her tone leaves no room for questions. “So act like the gentleman I raised you to be, and go say hello.”

He can’t argue because not only is he completely speechless, but also due to the fact that his mom is quick to leave him standing alone. Jeonghan knows his eyes are open wide in that angry way that makes him look like he’s crazy, but he doesn’t care. Why was everyone suddenly acting like they were in some alternate universe?

“Son.”

Jeonghan’s body goes stiff. Immediately, he straightens his expression out as he turns to face his father. He’s met with a familiarly cold expression. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. There’s a thick silence that envelopes them for a brief moment before his dad begins to speak. “Get that stupid look off your face and join me to go greet our guests.”

Again, he’s left with no room to argue because his dad walks away from him. Jeonghan is quick to follow behind him, aware of the consequences that would befall him should he disobey. Much to his chagrin, he sees his date has wandered off after successfully getting a picture with you and your date. This bizarre situation paired with his father’s attitude makes Jeonghan feel like a clueless little boy all over again.

The feeling gets worse when he comes face to face with you for the first time in years.

Your pretty eyes settle on him for a brief moment that can’t even be considered a full second before they look at his father. The man on your arm—Kim Mingyu—doesn’t acknowledge him at all. Jeonghan’s jaw ticks irritably, but he keeps his composure. Something else is clearly going on, and he would never hear the end of it if he ruined his dad’s covert plans.

“Y/N! Mingyu! I’m so glad you two made time to come!” Jeonghan’s father seems like a different person as he goes to shake hands with faux elation in his voice.

“We can’t stay long.” You say with an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But you’ll have to invite us next year because the event is fabulous.”

It irritates Jeonghan that his dad seems genuinely happy at receiving your stamp of approval. He wants to shake him and ask him if he’s lost his damn mind, but he can only plaster on a fake smile of his own.

“Of course.” There’s that fake politeness again. “Surely you two have time for a drink, though?”

Hearing his dad speak the way his employees do to him is sickening, and Jeonghan has to stop himself from gagging.

“Just one.” Mingyu says with a grin so charming that Jeonghan swears he hears some of the surrounding people swoon. “S.Coups is expecting us at his album release party. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” He says in an understanding tone that he would’ve never used on Jeonghan. He doesn’t get time to contemplate his dad’s out of character behavior because the older man turns to you with a smile.

“Y/N, I’m sure you remember my son, Jeonghan.” His father puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes enough for it to hurt without making him visibly uncomfortable. “I think you two were still in high school the last time you saw each other.”

Finally, you two look each other in the face again. Your face is blank—a picture of impassive. Then, another beautiful smile graces your face. “That’s right. It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

“I’ve been busy with school.” He hopes his smile doesn’t look as fake as it feels. “So have you, I presume?”

Jeonghan feels proud of his subtle dig until he feels his father stiffen beside him. Your smile doesn’t falter, but it does turn into an amused one as you share a look with Mingyu who doesn't bother to stifle the laugh that tumbles past his lips.

“Jeonghan.” The glare his father is giving him means he was definitely going to hear about his apparent slip up later. “You should go find Mina.”

Translation: Get lost before you embarrass me further.

“Oh. Sure.” Jeonghan tries not to feel like a scolded little boy who’s being shooed away. “It was nice to meet you, Mingyu. Nice seeing you again, Y/N.”

He’s not sure if you saying goodbye without a hint of amusement makes him feel better or worse.

The rest of the night proceeds smoothly, but Jeonghan has to leave early so he can avoid an awkward car ride back to the house with his parents. Not that it makes any difference because he can tell his dad is still very much angry at him when he gets home.

“I told you to go over the information my secretary gave you.”

His dad has a way of speaking that makes Jeonghan feel like he’s getting yelled at even though he isn’t. It makes him wish he hadn’t gotten drunk with Soonyoung instead of going over that damn binder full of names and faces. Obviously thinking he’d be able to skate by like all the other times was a severe miscalculation.

“You spend so much time on that damn phone that I thought you’d know Y/F/N and Kim Mingyu are at the top of the modeling industry right now. I’ve been trying to convince them to advertise our new cosmetic line for weeks!”

Jeonghan feels like his ears are ringing because there’s no way. He fights the urge to pull out his phone and search for confirmation. Maybe he should’ve done that when he got home instead of opening up the whiskey in his dad’s liquor cabinet.

“You said they didn’t seem offended that Jeonghan didn’t know who they were—” His mom is cut off by his dad’s angry yell.

“That doesn’t change the fact that your brilliant son still refuses to do what I ask of him!”

There’s a tense silence in the room as Jeonghan has to withstand the most scornful glare he’s gotten in his life. His father has a crazy look in his eye that makes Jeonghan feel two feet tall. “Any time they advertise a product, it sells out within days. If they refuse to endorse our products because of you—!”

“Honey,” his mother goes to her husband to placate him. “Jeonghan will apologize to them. Isn’t that right, son?”

She might not be yelling, but her voice is cold as ice, and Jeonghan is left with no room to disagree.

There’s not much that can intimidate Jeonghan, but even he has to admit that being in such foreign territory feels unnervingly daunting. After his dad’s secretary did some digging, he found out you were doing a photo shoot near his college. It’s a closed set, but luckily having the last name Yoon is like having an all access pass to pretty much any place he can think of.

This works until he tries to approach you as you’re getting your makeup touched up. Two burly men stop him from getting close, and a man who he would’ve assumed to be a model if it wasn’t for the way he was dressed stands behind them with a raised eyebrow.

“I made it clear to Lee Chan that there would be no interview.” His voice is rough and mean—something Jeonghan isn’t used to getting from anyone aside from his parents.

Jeonghan doesn’t know if he should be more offended that this guy assumed him to be of the working class or that he was being treated like someone that was beneath you. “No, that’s not—I’m a friend.”

The guy looks mildly surprised before he looks back at you. “You know this guy, Y/N?”

You look up from your phone with the same blank expression from the gala. Because you’ve acted cordial so far, Jeonghan doesn’t expect the next words to come out of your mouth. “No. I don’t.”

Jeonghan thinks about causing a scene, but then he knows that won’t help his predicament. So he lets himself be escorted off the sight, feeling more humiliated than ever. It’s unlike him to give up (not to mention that it’s not an option), which is why he waits by a car that undoubtedly belongs to you. To think that he would be reduced to go this far just to apologize to you is infuriating.

“There’s that creep from before.” Your manager frowns as you and your team are walking to the car.

You smirk, knowing what’s going to come next is going to be the highlight of your day. “It’s alright, Jihoon. He’s probably just a fan.”

Jeonghan is surprised when you gesture for him to come towards you while your team starts to get ready to leave. He clenches his jaw when he sees an arrogant smirk on your face. “Is there a reason you’re acting like a stalker and crashing my shoot?”

Insulting you is something Jeonghan wishes he had the option of doing, but he’s not willing to disappoint his father over some temporary satisfaction. After all, he only needs to give you an insincere apology and everything would be fine. So he takes a deep breath and hopes his words don’t come out sarcastic or mocking.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night.” Okay. That sounded somewhat sincere. “I didn’t know—”

“That your daddy’s been begging me to advertise his product?” You laugh. “I guess you just assumed that I married some rich guy to crawl my way up the social ladder, right?”

Shit. He has to do some damage control, and fast. “No—No. That’s not it at all...”

You wait for him to finish, but it really seems like he has nothing else to say. It’s not surprising, but it is amusing. Jeonghan still expected things to work in his favor just because of who he was, but he was in for a rude awakening. You step toward him with a vengeful smile on your face. “That apology is pathetic as you are.”

“What?” Jeonghan growls, unable to keep up this fake politeness he’s been showing you until now.

“You know, when your dad came to my agency to beg me to advertise those shitty products he came out with, I couldn’t help but think that you really are his son.” Your sneer is meaner than he remembers. “It was fun seeing him kiss my ass and offer me so much money, but you know what? I think trashing your daddy’s new product line is going to be so much more fun.”

You bump his shoulder as you walk past him, leaving him feeling like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped over his head. There was a malicious calmness in your tone that didn’t sit well with him at all.

Jeonghan quickly tries to do some damage control because even if you didn’t agree to advertise the new cosmetic line, Kim Mingyu could surely be swayed. The only problem is that he underestimated how much influence you actually have. Not only does the male model reject the apology, but he also officially declines the offer his father’s company made him.

If that wasn’t enough to piss his father off, you also decline the offer and follow it with a slanderous live that wasn’t technically slanderous under the court of law. Many comments came in about you potentially modeling for the line when you flat out said you didn’t particularly care for their products since they weren’t animal friendly and were overpriced. That caused enough backlash for the campaign ads that were underway to be halted immediately.

Despite trying to tell his parents that you never had any intention of advertising their products, he still found himself kicked out of the grand mansion he grew up in and forced to go stay at the frat house with eight other guys.

“Hold on. You know the Y/F/N!?” His friend yells after Jeonghan is done explaining why he got cut off. “You fucking traitor! How could you hide this from me when you know how much I love her?”

Jeonghan glares at Soonyoung, wanting to throttle him for only focusing on that part of the story. Also, he isn’t to blame for failing to realize the queen of the modeling industry his friend was always referring to was you.

“I still can’t believe you didn't know how famous she is.” Seungkwan says with a scoff. “She’s literally in a bunch of ads and magazines. Plus, she always walks in important fashion shows.”

Wonwoo smirks when Jeonghan pouts like a petulant child. The curiosity is eating away at him, and he feels the need to ask about something that’s not fully making sense to him. “So, you’re saying that Y/F/N did this because you’ve hated each other since you were kids?”

“She’s still not over me winning the scholarship she wanted.” Jeonghan says with a scowl. “Because of her, I have to do well on this interview so I can have some money to hold me over until I get full access to my trust next month.”

“You’re seriously going to apply for an internship at Vogue?” Soonyoung wonders with a raised eyebrow. “Won’t you be paid slave wages?”

Wonwoo and Seungkwan snicker, ignoring the glare Jeonghan throws their way. So the pay wouldn’t be great, but it was Vogue. To have an internship like that on his resume would do wonders for his career. Maybe money wasn’t the main attraction to the internship, but what he would get out of it would be worth so much more.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he’s sent to go help with a fitting for Xu Minghao’s upcoming spring collection. There’s plenty of models around who are needing minor alterations to the clothes they’re wearing, and Jeonghan has the great misfortune of handling the alterations needed for your dress.

Aside from you laughing at the fact that he’s literally on his knees, adjusting the hemline of the dress you have on, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Until he accidentally pokes you with the needle, that is. The ow you let out isn’t overly loud, but it is enough to grab the attention of Xu Minghao and Jeonghan’s direct supervisor.

“Y/N, darling, what’s wrong?” Minghao asks you, grabbing your hands as he eyes you up and down.

“Nothing. I—I just thought you’d have interns who are capable of not poking the models when they do the alterations.” You say with a slight grimace, knowing exactly what pulls at the designer’s heart strings.

Jeonghan receives two withering glares, and before the day is over he no longer has a job.

Exacting your revenge was one of the greatest feelings you’d ever felt. The outcome of your actions was more than justified, but your manager didn’t seem to think so. Your behavior confused him because he never knew you to be so spiteful to someone who simply made a mistake.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on between you and that intern you got fired?”

You look up from the newly posted pictures from the Armani show that you closed last week. Jihoon’s eyes are still fixed on the road, but he’s always had this annoying skill for seeing right through you without even looking at you. There’s no use in lying to him—not that you were planning to. You just thought you’d have a little more time to enjoy your revenge before telling the only person who knew about your past with that trust fund brat.

“That intern is Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen when he hears the name of the person you despise the most in the world. He looks at the rear view mirror to see that you’re back to staring at your phone. He quickly focuses back on the road, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“Oh.” He murmurs, unsure of what to say. “The same guy who—?”

He cuts himself off, but you know what he was about to say. The same guy who ruined your life? You don’t bother to finish the sentence for him.

“The very one.”

It’s silent for a moment before Jihoon speaks again. “Don’t you think you went a little too far?”

You don’t look up, but he notices the tightening of your jaw. The pause you take isn’t long, but it feels that way. “He has a trust fund to fall back on unlike me who had nothing when my mom kicked me out for not winning the scholarship he stole from me.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything. You’re speaking about the worst moment of your life so casually that anyone would think it doesn’t bother you anymore, but he knows the truth.

“Did you hear back from the agency?” You ask, not wanting to keep talking about the past.

“Yeah. They don’t mind you going to classes for this semester as long as you still do the Marc Jacobs show in Milan and the Versace show in Paris.”

“I also promised Jun I’d do his New York show.” You mention with a victorious smile.

Jihoon hums in acknowledgment. He’s not against the idea of you taking your college classes in person for a semester, but he wonders if it will be okay.

As usual, your manager was right to worry.

Weeks of your college experience go by without any problems. During that time you didn’t notice that Jeonghan had been watching you. He didn’t follow you around or anything like that, but he had observed you long enough to notice that you were oddly attached to your laptop that looked like it was in need of a serious upgrade. And he knows. That’s the ticket to his revenge. So he patiently waits for his chance to grab that ticket.

It takes some convincing (a large sum of money) for Jeonghan to get his English professor to pair you with him for the upcoming project. All he needs to do is get that laptop from you to get the revenge he craves.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more angry. Never mind the fact that there was this perpetual animosity between you and your partner. Jeonghan was also one of the most idiotic people you had ever met. Carrying him on this project was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Don’t expect me to do all the work. I don’t care if have photo shoots or whatever. Make sure you know the material.”

You almost let out an incredulous scoff at his audacity, but instead you just give him an arrogant smile. “I think you forget that you’re the one who always lost to me when it came to academics.”

Jeonghan gives you smug smirk of his own. “And yet I’m the one who won the Merit Scholarship.”

For the first time since he’s seen you again, your arrogant expression falters. He’s not allowed to enjoy the dumb look on your face because you’re quick to smooth it out as if you weren’t slighted by his comment. It’s almost amazing how quickly you manage to cover up your expression.

“Please.” You scoff, trying not to yell at him in the middle of the library. “Your daddy bought that for you just like everything else you have. Too bad intelligence is something that even he can’t afford to get you.”

Jeonghan looks like he did all those years ago on your first day of senior year. His expression is so funny that you can’t help but laugh at him. Your mellifluous laughter catches the attention of some of the people sitting not too far from you who happened to be apparent fans of yours. The pair doesn’t hesitate to walk over to your table and ask for a picture.

You stand up and pose with each of them with that friendly smile you give to everyone except Jeonghan. While your back is turned, he sees your laptop slightly sticking out of your bag. It’s almost too easy to the grab the device and stick it in his own bag. He does it with a precision and smoothness that takes even him by surprise.

As soon as you’re done, you turn back to see Jeonghan gathering the books on the table, bag already slung over his shoulder like he’s ready to leave.

“What the hell? You’re leaving?” You say, annoyed that he was already not pulling his weight this early on.

“I have things to do.” Jeonghan says with a shrug. “I’ll text you later to let you know when I’m free to meet up.”

He leaves you frowning and unaware that he took the single most important item you own.

It’s not until you get back home that you realize your laptop is missing. You panic, practically tearing the house apart trying to find it. Every moment of the day flashes through your mind because you did have a tendency to forget things. It was the reason why Jihoon was responsible for handling most of your personal items when you did shoots.

Jihoon. You think as you search your room for the third time. He’s going to be so disappointed and angry.

The contents in the laptop isn’t what you’re worried about, but the laptop itself. Jihoon bought it for you after he convinced your agency that taking online classes would not affect your work. It meant so much to you because he was the only person who knew how much you had wanted to go to college despite not being able to after you graduated high school.

You’re nearly in tears after realizing that you really had lost it. Even if you went back to the campus early in the morning, it would take you forever to look for it in all the places you’d been to. Just as you’re about to call Jihoon to tell him what happened, you get a text from the last person you want to hear from.

Jeonghan sent a picture of himself holding your most prized possession with an infuriating message attached to it: You’ll get your laptop back if come to my party tonight and take a picture with my friend.

It’s a trap. You know it is. And yet, you still find yourself at the address you were given by the devil incarnate. The frat house is loud and full of people who don’t seem to care or notice who you are. Not that you mind. You only hope Jeonghan doesn’t make things difficult and gives you your laptop right away.

“Y/N!” The deviant yells your name when you finally find him.

Jeonghan is clearly drunk, holding your precious laptop close to him as he drinks some cheap beer. You keep a level head, knowing he just wants a reaction out of you. “Where’s your friend?”

Straight to the point, as always. Jeonghan smirks and whispers something to the boy next to him. His friend disappears into the crowd and returns with someone else minutes later. It’s a cute guy with shining eyes and an adorable smile.

“I love you.” He blurts once he sees you, a blush suffusing his entire face. “You’re so pretty and amazing—!”

He’s drunk, you can tell, but he also seems sincere. It makes you think maybe that rat Jeonghan has actually done this as some twisted way to make his friend’s wish come true. Even if that’s not the case, you could never be mean to someone who supports you—even if that person is friends with someone like Jeonghan.

“Let’s take a picture.” You say with a smile that’s surprisingly easy to conjure.

Naively, you think that Jeonghan will give you the thing you cherish the most after you comply to his wishes. After his friend leaves, he makes no move to give you your laptop. You should’ve expected it, but it still infuriates you.

“I can’t believe you actually came and did what I asked. It makes me wonder what you're hiding in here.” Jeonghan slurs with a smirk that makes you want to throttle him. “I bet you regret acting the way you have.”

You know he’s talking about the things you’ve done to him as soon as you saw him again, and you resist the urge to scream at him that this is nothing compared to what he did to you. Both of you are too focused on each other to see the camera aimed at the rapidly unfolding fight.

“Just give it back, idiot.” You seethe, trying to keep your composure because things are on the verge of getting messy.

“I’m surprised that top model Y/F/N still has this shitty model. Maybe you should think about upgrading.”

Jeonghan laughs again and tauntingly holds out your laptop. As you step forward to grab it, the sleek device slips out of his hand. Everything seems to go in slow motion as you watch the laptop hit the floor and break open. The screen completely detached from the keyboard, and despite being turned off, you can see the cracks that covered half the screen.

You can hear laughter and immature ohs filling up the space. All rational thoughts are ejected from your mind as you grab a cup from a random party-goer and throw it in Jeonghan’s face. The crowd seems to go wild, but that’s not what you’re focused on. Jeonghan doesn’t look shocked or angry. In fact, he looks a lot like the cat who ate the canary.

You realize too late that the guy from before is pointing his phone at you. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you easily mask your panic and go to pick up the pieces of your broken laptop. The night ends with you running out of the house and a video of you throwing beer in Jeonghan’s face being uploaded for the world to see.

This leaves Jeonghan feeling very pleased with himself.

When he first found out you were going to attend the college he worked so hard to make sure you didn’t get into, it felt like he was living in his worst nightmare. But now with you getting backlash for throwing beer in his face, he’s never felt better. His parents had even reached out to him to get dinner and discuss him moving back in.

“I’m literally never talking to you again.” Soonyoung glares at him with deep resentment. “How could you use me to set up Y/F/N? She probably hates me now.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes as Seungkwan sympathetically pats his friend on the back. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she hates Jeonghan way more.”

Wonwoo snorts while Soonyoung’s pout gets more sulky by the second. While anyone could agree that Jeonghan’s actions were petty and borderline sociopathic, most of the frat was just glad to have him go back to normal. His temperament had been exponentially worse since you decided to finish the semester in person.

The victory, however, is short-lived.

Two days after the video Jeonghan’s frat brother initially posted, you post a video of your own. The caption was nothing short of absolving: Guess he’s mad I didn’t want to endorse the products his daddy tests on animals.

It’s a factor Jeonghan didn’t consider. Someone else had filmed the entire thing from the part where he’s taunting you about your laptop to the part where he so clearly drops it on purpose and you react by throwing beer in his face. It’s almost comedic how fast public opinion changes. The stocks to his father’s company plummet not even a full hour after you post the video, and Jeonghan is getting way more backlash than you did.

When he sees his dad blowing up his phone, he knows this is the final nail in the coffin that will sever the ties with his family.

Meanwhile, you’re not holding up much better. In spite of managing to spin the situation in your favor, your agency is still displeased that you were involved in a scandal at all. Not to mention that Jihoon is clearly disappointed in you. It’s to be expected since he’s the one who helped you convince everyone that taking classes in person wouldn’t be a problem.

“You told me you didn’t want anything to do with Yoon Jeonghan.” Jihoon reminds you two stand in your living room. “Why did you go there in the first place when you’re the one always saying he's some sort of evil mastermind?”

You frown at him, feeling tears of frustration begin to gather in your eyes. “He took the laptop you gave me! How could I let him keep it when you bought it on the salary you had back then?”

Jihoon’s features soften instantly. He lets out a deep sigh and pulls you into his arms. So that’s why. Even he had failed to remember how much that old laptop meant to you. It makes him smile as you quietly sniffle into his shoulder. Jihoon thinks back to when he bought you the laptop and how grateful you had been. He can still remember clearly how you told him that he was the only person to ever believe in your dreams.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he gently pats your back. “I forgot how much that laptop means to you, but I’ll buy you a new one, okay? I should’ve gotten you a new one a long time ago, anyway. Thanks to you and Mingyu, my salary has increased.”

Even after he gets a tearful laugh, Jihoon wonders if going to college is really what’s best for you. He’s the last person who would want to stop you from chasing your real dream, but he can’t shake the feeling that your war with Yoon Jeonghan is far from over.

Jeonghan is an easy going guy who can laugh at his own misfortune, but he really doesn’t see the humor in you single-handedly ruining his life. His friends disagree. Especially Josh, who came down to visit him after years of being abroad.

“I don’t know why you’re acting all surprised. If I was Y/N, I’d try to ruin your life too.” Josh says before he takes a bite of his food. “Actually, I’m surprised that she didn’t try sooner. Especially after what happened at the awards ceremony.”

Soonyoung and Seungkwan’s curiosity is piqued upon hearing that last statement. They lean forward, abandoning all interest in the exquisite food in front of them. In the rendition of Jeonghan’s backstory of the supermodel that hates him, there was no mention of an awards ceremony.

“What happened at the awards ceremony?” Wonwoo asks immediately, not understanding why Jeonghan genuinely looks like he doesn’t know what Josh is talking about.

The atmosphere has quickly changed, and Jeonghan can’t figure out why Josh is making that day seem like it was something more than it was. But there was this feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept growing bigger and bigger. Had something else happened that he didn’t know about?

Josh notices the tense silence that’s suddenly surrounding the table and clears his throat. “I mean, technically, Jeonghan is the one who plotted to ruin Y/N’s life first. He’s the reason her mom went all psycho on her at our end of the year awards ceremony.”

The silence from before gets thicker and more uncomfortable the longer it lasts. Jeonghan looks like he’s just heard some life altering revelation while Josh is looking as clueless as the rest of the boys.

“Wait—” Josh puts down his fork, eyes wide with disbelief. “Why are you acting like you don’t know?”

“I...” Jeonghan swallows thickly. All he remembers from that day is that vacant expression you had on your face when he won the scholarship. The one that still makes him feel like someone is reaching inside his chest and squeezing his heart.

“So what exactly happened?” Seungkwan asks since his friend can’t seem to even think straight.

“We were all mean to her.” Josh admits with a sigh. “I mean, she’s the daughter of a failed businessman, plus she had beef with Hannie since birth. It was too easy to give her shit and fuck with her.”

His friends are uncharacteristically quiet, and it’s so uncomfortable that Jeonghan just wants to die. But not before he hears about what Josh meant about the awards ceremony.

“When Jeonghan found out she applied for the Merit Scholarship, he applied for it too. His dad is friends with the guy who was head of the scholarship foundation, so of course he was going to get it. We all thought it’d be pretty funny to see how her parents would react when she lost.”

Jeonghan’s friends give him very judgmental stares that he honestly deserves.

“But I didn't get to.” Jeonghan recalls quietly. “Y/N and her mom left the auditorium right after, and I had to stay behind to take a bunch of pictures for the school’s newsletter.”

There’s another tense silence where Joshua looks like he has some sort of dilema. He wonders if telling Jeonghan after so long is only going to make things worse.

“You said Y/N’s mom went all psycho on her.” Wonwoo says. “How is that Jeonghan’s fault?”

“Aside Y/N would’ve gotten that scholarship if it wasn’t for Jeonghan, her mom was mad because she lost to him in particular. As soon as they got outside she started yelling at her about how useless she was. She even slapped her in front of everyone and basically disowned her."

“Damn.” Is all Soonyoung is able to say before turning to Jeonghan. “I would hate you too.”

Jeonghan can’t say anything because he’s thinking the exact same thing.

After a very eye-opening lunch, Jeonghan realizes now that you won’t stop your revenge until you’ve completely destroyed him. This sends him into a panic and makes him come up with a plan that will hopefully knock you down a few pegs.

Jeonghan enlists the help of your stepbrother, Seokmin. Unbeknownst to maybe the kindest guy he’s ever met, he helps Jeonghan lure not only you, but also your dad to the silent auction your university is hosting. Getting you two to arrive at the same times is a bit tricky, but Jeonghan manages to pull it off after telling Seokmin to give your father a certain time.

All Jeonghan has to do is linger by the entrance and wait for you to arrive. Which you do, and in a beautiful dress, no less. It’s almost a pity that your night is going to be ruined in approximately five seconds. He’s far enough for you to not notice him yet and close enough to hear your father call out to you from behind.

“Y/N.”

You freeze at the sound of your name being spoken. It had been years, but you would never forget that voice. You turn around slowly, feeling an onslaught of emotions hit you like a truck when you see your father standing in front of you.

There’s a tension between you and your father that Jeonghan recognizes immediately. For some reason, it makes him feel uncomfortable rather than satisfied. He's not sure why that is, but he can't stop watching. It’s unexpected because despite knowing that you were estranged from him, he didn’t expect it to be like this.

“How have you been?” Your father is hesitant in his movements as he steps closer to you.

You hate feeling the way you currently do; like a little girl who’s powerless in front of her father. The feeling is worse because he’s staring at you like he never abandoned you to start another life that didn’t involve you.

“You’ve seen the articles.” You reply coldly. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

The tense atmosphere affects even Jeonghan, and he can’t help but start to feel a little regret because this is not what he had in mind at all. It’s not funny nor does it satiate the vengeful side you always brought out in him. Right now, the situation feels like some sort of erroneous event that should’ve never happened in the first place.

“I was pleased to see what you’ve done to the Yoon family.” He genuinely sounds proud, but you’re not twelve years old anymore so it doesn’t mean anything to you. All it does is make you feel sick. “Honestly, I never thought you’d be able to do it. You surprised me.”

Jeonghan can’t laugh. It should be funny, but it's not. Your father is giving you a back-handed compliment despite being one of the top models in the industry and someone who has the potential to be a global star. Instead of that sweet feeling he’s always gotten from messing with you, all he feels is disgust.

“I’m sure your mom is pleased as well.” He says awkwardly after you don’t say anything. “How is she, by the way?”

The last thing you want to talk about is her, but his ignorance to the feelings you harbor for your mom actually makes you scoff in bewilderment. Emotions you thought you’d gotten rid of long ago start to push at the surface and gather at the center of your chest. You hate that you can’t shove them away and pretend they’re not affecting you the way they are.

Jeonghan flinches when your next words come out in the phonic form of ice. “You know I haven’t talked to her since she kicked me out of her house.”

There’s this long pause where the entire vicinity seems to have gone as cold as your voice. The candor of your words make Jeonghan’s jaw drop. An intense discomfort seeps into his veins and strikes him right in the chest. The story Joshua told him is undoubtedly true, and now he’s starting to realize he was the one who put that domino effect into place.

“I would’ve helped you if you let me—”

Your dad stops talking when you start laughing. It’s not a joyful or amused laugh. It’s cold and resentful. You almost can’t believe the audacity that your father has. His selective memory has always pissed you off, but now he was crossing the line.

“Why are you here?” You demand, unwilling to prolong this unexpected encounter. “This is an alumni event.”

“Seokmin invited me.” His answer shouldn’t have disappointed you, but for some infuriating reason it still did. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

There’s so many things that you want to say. All these years you thought about how it would all play out if you saw him again, but now that it’s actually happening, you can’t say anything that you wanted to.

“The actions you’ve taken against the Yoon family have impressed me so far.” He says like you’ll be happy about his praise. “I thought it would be appropriate to say this to you. That’s all.”

When you see that familiar contempt and unimpressed expression on your father’s face, you can’t help but think that you should’ve never left your house to come out. The figure in your peripheral vision hasn’t moved, and you can only assume he’s waiting for you to react the way he wants.

The silence that looms is tense and uncomfortable. Even Jeonghan can feel it from where he’s watching. It’s strange. The scene in front of him should be satisfying, but it’s not. Not even close.

“What is it that you want to say, then?”

“I know for a fact that Yoon Jeonghan is planning to use a large part of his trust to buy your rival agency. I’ll loan you a substantial amount of money to counter that offer and steal it from him.”

Now, there’s not much that can catch Jeonghan off guard, but what the fuck. His intentions and deals were strictly confidential. How was it possible that your father knew?

“I’m sure you know the reason this chance is so important.”

That anticlimactic moment makes Jeonghan pause. He vaguely recognizes the sick feeling in his stomach as one of realization. The scene in front of him was nothing more then a distorted reflection of his own relationship with his father.

In the time he hadn’t seen you, you’d gotten good at schooling your reactions, but now anyone can see how helpless you feel. That expression reminds him of how he felt when his own father told him to buy the agency and find a model that was capable of taking the crown you’ve had for the last two years. It was never about Jeonghan’s happiness, it was all about his dad’s vanity and ego. He could see now that was still the case for you as well.

“You want me to humiliate him and his family one more time.”

Your father smirks. “Now you’re getting it. You need to prove to everyone—especially that boy and his family—that you’ve always been better.”

All the things you’ve done to Jeonghan come to the forefront of your mind and you suddenly feel more sick and disgusted than ever. This entire time you inadvertently pushed your obsessive father’s agenda because you were still angry about something that happened years ago. There’s this tight knot in your throat that suddenly makes it hard to speak, but you manage anyway.

“When are you going to stop using me for your petty rivalry?” You demand angrily. “I’m not going to be the kind of person who steps on other people for no reason.”

Your father scoffs, furious eyes filled with disappointment. “No reason?”

His laughter that follows is cold and manic. “You think this is just about my dislike for that family? No. This is about who you’re going to turn out to be. Are you going to be weak? Swayed by every sob story that crosses your path? How do you expect to take over my company if you’re so spineless?”

Jeonghan doesn’t feel any satisfaction like he expects. Instead he feels this ugly, jagged feeling deep in his chest. He feels like he's watching some sort of reenactment of him and his own father.

“Don’t forget. I have no use for such a pathetic daughter.”

The silence feels like it’s going to last forever, and in the stillness, Jeonghan feels sorry for you. This entire time he had been so stuck on his own turmoil that he forgot you were also the verge of being crushed by the weight of your family’s expectations. Just like his own father, your dad clearly had no regard for anyone’s feelings—even his own child’s. The test of time hadn’t changed him at all. Unfortunately, the same could be said for his father. It was disheartening to know that you were both nothing more than pawns in their childish game of revenge.

“That’s funny because right now the pathetic one is you.” Jeonghan feels oddly proud at how cutthroat you sound right now. “Don’t act like that company is something you can give away, you know, since it belongs to your wife and not you.”

Your truthful words finally manage to silence him, but you can’t stop there. “Plus, I know you’d rather give everything you have to Seokmin anyway, right? I mean, he is the son you’ve always wanted.”

“Don’t blame him for my mistakes, Y/N.”

“God—When are you going to open your fucking eyes and realize I don’t blame anyone else but you!?” You suddenly yell, unable to keep stifling your feelings.

It’s quiet for a moment before your father speaks again, his voice cold and calculating. “What about the Yoon family? Don’t you blame them? Aren’t they the ones who crushed your dreams?”

Jeonghan holds his breath despite knowing your answer. Of course you did. There was no way you didn’t. If the roles were reversed, he would, too.

You did blame that fucking family for a lot, but never for what your parents did to you. They had nothing to do with the fact that your mom and dad aren’t worthy of being parents. Also, if you truly thought back on it (which you had—countless times), your parents were the one who destroyed your dreams before anyone else could.

“Why would I blame anyone else for what you and your ex wife did to me? You two are the ones who decided I was useless because I couldn’t get you back to where you wanted to be.” You say, voice void of any perceptible emotion.

The silence is thick and heavy with tension. You swallow thickly and belatedly remember that you’re being watched. By this time, you imagine Jeonghan has enough material to humiliate you accordingly, but you’re too fucking exhausted to care. The petty actions you’ve taken so far were justified in your eyes, but even so, you wish you had just let it go. Talking to the man who abandoned you and only came looking for you when he deemed you as useful let you see that.

“Just leave.” Dad. You almost say it like he’s worthy of being that. “Do what you want with this sick obsession you have with the Yoon family, but leave me out of it because I’m done being used for your petty revenge.”

Your father scoffs. “I knew you didn’t have what it takes. I’ll go, but I’ll leave you with this: Yoon Jeonghan’s father knows his son will stop at nothing to destroy you. He was bragging about how his son was going to ruin you with this agency he’s going to buy. Think about that next time you want to be the better person.”

With that, he walks away from you, possibly for the last time.

Despite feeling numb, there’s still angry tears poking the back of your eyes. You let out a shaky sigh, knowing now isn’t the time to cry like you want. “Are you going keep hiding in the shadows like you didn’t set this up?”

Jeonghan’s blood runs cold, and for a moment he contemplates on running. He’s not exactly sure how you found out or even knew that he was watching, but there was no point in pretending. As usual, you knew everything.

You turn around, face still a mess of emotions. Two hours before, you might’ve cared about losing face in front of Jeonghan, but that was no longer the case. No matter what actions he took against you after this, you were done feeding into this game. As soon as the semester was over, you were going back to your normal life and leave behind all these shitty memories.

The expression on your face is eerily similar to the one from when he took your scholarship—a look of defeated resignation. Jeonghan figures that he gets a similar expression on his face when he fights with his dad. That suffocated look is one he knows all too well.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Jeonghan is reminded of that first day of senior year when he saw you again. In that split second as you're gazing at him with crystal-like tears shining in your pretty eyes, he makes a decision.

“Be my girlfriend.”

His words hang in the air, and you can only look at Jeonghan like he’s lost his mind. You two stare at each other, until you finally manage to form some words through your bewilderment. “What? What are you—?”

“Be my girlfriend.” He says with more conviction. “And help me get revenge on our parents.”

You blink, feeling more confused than ever. Briefly, you wonder if the intensity of your emotions has driven you into some sort of delirium. Either that, or Jeonghan really has lost his mind.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He actually pouts at you. “You said you were done being used by your dad. I feel the same way. I’m tired of only being useful for their sick obsession.”

Maybe it’s the exhaustion you feel from all the emotions you’ve ran dry or maybe it’s because the little snake actually sounds convincing, but either way you agree.

“Fine, but I have conditions.”

Realistically, Jeonghan knew that (fake) dating you wouldn’t be easy, but he never expected to be put on blast like he has been—least of all by you. He’s waiting outside your last class, trying to pretend like he’s not furious.

“Angel face.” Jeonghan’s smile is deceptively calm and pretty. “We need to talk.”

You grimace at him as he loops his arm through yours and begins walking you out of the building towards his sleek car. “Yeah, we do because what the hell is that pet name? It makes you sound like some middle-aged creep.”

Jeonghan laughs stiffly, not wanting to attract the wrong kind of attention. People were already skeptical about your relationship, and he couldn’t let his brilliant plan fail before it got to the good part. He manages to keep his cool and even opens the passenger door for you, gently stroking your head as you get in. It’s almost annoying how good he is at acting affectionate.

“You’re breaking your own rules.” Jeonghan scowls as he starts the car.

You already know he’s talking about your interview that went public an hour ago. His deep frown makes you smirk. “Don’t be mad at me, angel face.”

Jeonghan’s annoyance is oddly soothed by your cute laughter, and he briefly wonders if he’s starting to go insane. His friends would likely tell him that he is. Meanwhile, you’re also wondering if you’re going insane because the surly pout Jeonghan has on his face isn’t as off-putting as it usually is.

“I did what was necessary for the plan.” You explain, trying not to sound like you’re mocking him. “Now everyone likes us together. See?”

Jeonghan finally looks at your phone when he gets to a stoplight. Even just skimming the comments under the article, he can see the tides beginning to shift in his favor. He looks back at the road with a pout. Sure, everything was in the name of revenge, but he wasn’t sure if the humiliation was worth it.

“I guess, but... I don’t think you had to say that I cried while begging for your forgiveness.”

You give him an annoyed look. “Honestly, that’s the least you could do to repent for everything that you’ve done to me. Just consider yourself lucky that I let everything slide due to our mutual need to get revenge.”

Jeonghan scoffs, but says nothing else the entire time he drives to the restaurant he’s been dying to eat at for weeks. The reservation he made two weeks ago was at the beginning of next month, but you had managed to get one within minutes. It was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, and he had heard nothing but good things.

Your hands slips into his easily as you two walk into the two MICHELIN star restaurant. Jeonghan tries not to think about how holding your soft hand doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as he thought it would. Instead he focuses on the extravagant interior of the restaurant. He’s seen the pictures online, but they didn’t capture the essence of the place at all.

He notices the looks you’re getting from the staff when you say your last name to the hostess. Unlike the attention you get at school, the other guests and staff are subtle with the looks they’re giving you as you two are guided into the restaurant. It’s a different type of uncomfortable, but Jeonghan notices that you don’t seem to be fazed by it at all.

“Hannie.” You call so affectionately that Jeonghan has to stop himself from gaping at you. “I booked one of the tables on the balcony, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No.” He says, feeling like he’s in a trance as you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

As you two near the balcony, he sees the group of people sitting at one of the tables. Your hand tightens around his, but your face remains clean of any emotions. Jeonghan isn’t sure why he softly caresses your thumb in a comforting way. Maybe it’s because he knows that despite wanting revenge, executing it didn’t mean all the unpleasant feelings that came with seeing your father would magically go away.

“How’d you know he’d be here?” Jeonghan wonders after you two are seated.

You hum softly, thinking of a way to say something so deprecating without sounding completely pitiful. Eventually, you decide you don’t need to be so cautious because Jeonghan has already seen all the ugly parts of your life you never wanted anyone to see.

“It’s his birthday, today.” Your gaze flickers past his shoulder for a split second. “He always has this intimate dinner with his family before throwing his actual party. Seokmin mentioned that he wanted to have the dinner here this year.”

Jeonghan doesn’t have time to process how detached you seem because you give him a wicked smirk. “I know you can’t see, but he looks fucking livid right now.”

He’s not sure why he feels relieved when you start laughing like you weren’t feeling suffocated a few seconds ago. It makes him wonder if you’re aware that he can still tell what you’re feeling. Jeonghan had an innate talent for it since childhood, and now it seemed to be more fine-tuned than ever.

“Then, should we take it a step further?”

You give him a questioning gaze. The confusion you feel slowly turns into an emotion that feels somewhat familiar yet foreign all at the same time. It’s something you can’t pinpoint or name, but it’s definitely there as Jeonghan puts a velvet box on the table. Something inside your chest jerks when you realize that he went out and bought you a gift to help you get the reaction you were looking for.

Jeonghan slides the box over to you, a cocky smirk on his face. “Open it, darling. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You don’t comment on the pet name (especially since you like it way better than the other one) as you do what he says. The box contains a beautiful necklace that looks like it could be from a man in love (or one set on getting revenge).

“It’s beautiful.” You say with a smile as the feeling in your chest jerks again. “Want to put it on me?”

Jeonghan immediately stands from his seat and walks around the table. He’s good at keeping his eyes trained on you, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the three heads clearly staring in the direction of your table. Jeonghan takes the necklace from the box and bends down to clip it into place. Your scent invades his senses, and it makes it way too easy to admire the way the diamonds shine against your skin.

You feel soft lips press against your cheek before gentle words are whispered into your ear. “It suits you just like I knew it would.”

There’s a loud thumping in the air that only you two can seem to hear.

Jeonghan’s hands are holding on to your shoulders as you look up at him. The thumping seems to get louder. “Thank you for my gift, love.”

On impulse more than anything, your (fake) boyfriend swoops down to press a lingering kiss on your lips. He pulls back, feeling an awkward warmth crawling up his neck. You don’t look surprised or disgusted, instead you give him a fond smile that seems more genuine the longer he looks at it. Jeonghan takes his seat again, the infuriated man tables behind you long forgotten by either of you.

There’s a shift in your relationship that night. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Neither you nor Jeonghan really take notice. All you two are aware of is that playing pretend isn’t as awful as you both thought it would be. Expectedly, you scheming deviants have the time of your life playing with this new dynamic there is between you.

Jeonghan has become overly familiarized with your apartment by now. He’s waiting on your nice couch, watching as your team finishes working on your hair and makeup. It’s interesting to see just how much effort goes into looking absolutely flawless for all the cameras. Before this, he didn’t realize certain types of makeup and hair styles photographed better.

“Flawless as always!” Your makeup artist squeals as he takes videos and pictures to document his handiwork.

You don’t look exhausted physically, but Jeonghan still worries that you might already be drained. He knows he would be, especially because your manager keeps reminding you of all the people you need to get a photo with and at what time you need to be home by because you have two different shoots in the morning.

Jeonghan watches silently as your stylist follows you to your room to help you put on the custom dress Wen Junhui has made especially for you to wear to the new Givenchy pop-up shop opening. From what you’ve said, it’s supposed to match the suit he has on—which was also custom made for him by the famous designer.

When you step back into the living room wearing the fitted dress, Jeonghan feels like he’s staring at a living goddess. He can’t take his eyes off you as Jihoon snaps some photos of you. Being starstruck is something he didn’t think was actually possible, but now he understands why Soonyoung still can’t act normal when he brings you around.

“You look amazing.” Jeonghan says breathlessly, still completely entranced by your appearance.

“So do you. I’ll have to give Jun my thanks for making us the hottest couple at this event.”

After a few pictures together for your socials, you two set off to the pop-up shop. The event is expectedly large and grand. So many important people had gathered, but he only cared about the one person who he knew would be there. Jeonghan is quick to spot his father. Ironically, he’s talking with the man who designed the suit he's wearing.

You’re only a little taken aback when Jeonghan wraps his arms around you while you’re talking to a newcomer model you met last year during fashion week. It’s all you can do to keep talking normally as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands gently caress the material of your dress. He’s pressing himself closer to you like he wants to mold your bodies together.

When you’re finally left alone, you turn your head to give him a questioning look. You only get a pleased expression in return. The adorably goofy look makes your heart flutter with unwarranted affection.

“I’m clingy.” Jeonghan says bluntly. “And as my girlfriend, you’re obligated to indulge me.”

Your laugh is airy and filled with endearment because honestly, you don’t hate the faux affection. His embrace isn’t uncomfortable. Oddly, it makes the usual anxiousness you get at these events melt away. It’s only an added bonus to what you actually came by to get.

His father looks a lot like yours did. It’s almost funny because it takes less than a second after he sees you two together for him to come over and demand to speak to his son alone. You almost decline for Jeonghan, but you stop yourself when you remember the clause that states neither of you will interfere with family matters other than indirectly making them angry with your relationship.

Your (fake) boyfriend isn’t gone for long, but he’s clearly upset. Instead of letting it visibly show, he indulges in more champagne and mingling. It’s only when he starts slurring his words that you decide it’s time to go.

You're not sure why you don’t take him back to his frat house. It would’ve been easier and less of a hassle, but you found yourself unwilling to part with Jeonghan when he was clearly so distraught and incoherent. You force feed him water before laying him down in your guest bedroom.

“My dad’s such an asshole.” Jeonghan sighs, arm thrown over his eyes as you take off his shoes for him.

You hum in agreement, finally looking back at his face. His cheeks and neck are suffused with color, and you wonder what exactly his father said to make him this upset. It makes you wonder if he was starting to regret doing this entire thing with you.

“Don’t think about him anymore.” You whisper, not sure why that last thought is so upsetting. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

You go to get up, but are stopped by a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist. Jeonghan has moved his arm and is now looking directly at you. His eyes are shining with so many emotions that you recognize, but somehow can’t seem to decipher enough to tell what exactly he’s feeling. The intensity of his stare makes somehow makes you feel exposed.

“Stay with me.” His voice is more vulnerable than you expect. “Please.”

It’s like your legs move on their own as they sit you back at his side. He doesn’t make a move to let go of your wrist and you don’t think to shake off his touch. The silence is full of unspoken words, and you only wait for him to say what’s clearly bothering him.

“I don’t hate you.”

His words are surprising, mostly because they’re something you never thought you’d hear. Jeonghan doesn’t give you a chance to say anything because he keeps talking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t hate you the way I’m supposed to.” His gaze goes to the ceiling as if he’s trying to sort out all the thoughts you can see running through his mind. “I never could.”

“I don’t hate you either.” You tell him honestly.

“But I ruined your life.” Jeonghan frowns as if he’s recalling every horrible thing he ever did to you.

“I ruined yours.” You counter lightheartedly.

Jeonghan laughs a bit and closes his eyes. “Hope you can forgive me for real someday.”

He starts snoring before you can tell him that you already have.

“They look so cute together.”

This phrase was one Jeonghan got used to hearing since you two started dating, and he hates it. Not because it’s unpleasant to hear (it’s not), but because half the time that phrase was being used to describe you and Kim Mingyu. The two girls in his financial analysis class are squealing about your most recent photo shoot which included some shots with your model friend.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you.” Seungkwan laughs when he sees the look on his friend's face.

Jeonghan only rolls his eyes and pretends that Seungkwan’s words don’t affect him the way they do. Because there’s no way he’s jealous. How could he be jealous of someone that was nothing more than a coworker? And there's no reason for him to be jealous even if that wasn’t the case because he doesn’t have any feelings for you.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when you tell him you’re going to have to reschedule your weekly dinner because of that stupidly tall model everyone ships you with. Instead of letting it go like he should’ve done, Jeonghan reminds you that having dinner out in public once a week is part of your deal.

It’s almost cute the way he does it. Jeonghan says it like a whiny child that’s begging for attention. So you promise him to meet him the next day, but he’s not having it. Jeonghan insists that you come to his frat’s party after you’re done. Which you do, and you don’t know what to think on what you stumble on. Jeonghan is absolutely hammered, but he’s also really happy to see you.

“Darling!” He yells, abandoning the game of beer pong he’s currently winning.

You’re surprised when he races toward you and crushes you with a hug. The wolf whistles and cat calls fade into the background as Jeonghan pulls you along with him to sit on the couch, not caring for his partner’s loud protest for him to finish the game. His grip is strong as he tugs you on his lap. The grin he gives you when you easily comply is so pretty it hurts.

“You look so pretty.” Jeonghan is talking to you in pout, and you think you might melt at how cute he looks. “Can’t believe you went out with another guy looking so good.”

You let out a shocked laugh. He sounds like a jealous boyfriend, and for some reason it doesn’t repulse or annoy you. It does confuse you, though.

“I can’t believe you were out here getting drunk with sorority girls while I had a business dinner with Mingyu and Jihoon.”

His laugh is so cute, and the way he hugs you tighter and burrows his face into your neck is even cuter. You notice the lingering eyes, and it reminds you that the affection you’re receiving isn’t real. It also makes you think about how there’s really no need for him to be acting like this. There’s no reporters around or anyone that would run back to your families to let them know how “in love” you two are.

And yet, you don’t feel like pushing him off.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You say, trying to act like your heart isn’t pounding as if it’s on the verge of imploding.

“To your house?” He looks up, hooded eyes looking at you with an emotion that seems familiar, but foreign-looking in his eyes.

“No.” You force yourself to say despite wanting to give into his pleading stare. “Your bed is upstairs, silly.”

Jeonghan leans more into you, letting out disappointed hum that tickles your skin. “Want to stay with you.”

You’re pretty sure you’re going to regret what you do next, but you for some reason you can’t explain to yourself, you’re unwilling to leave him alone when he clearly wants to stay with you. So you decide it’s easier to take him upstairs as he drunkenly points out where his room is. You plop down on his bed, surprised that Jeonghan hasn’t let go of you once the entire time.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” You say as he shoves his face in your neck.

“Stay forever.”

It’s stupid the way your heart interprets the words even though your brain knows he only meant stay for tonight. You’re more worried that you wish he meant it in the way he said it.

In the morning, you wake up to see that you’re alone. The discomfort you feel is eased when the door opens minutes later to reveal Jeonghan with several shopping bags in hand. You spot the familiar Valentino and Christian Louboutin bags almost instantly.

“You’re awake.” The smile he gives you is sleepy and tired, but so damn attractive.

“You went shopping.” You say, trying to understand how he got up before you. “Don’t you have a hangover?”

“I do.” He admits, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “But you need fresh clothes after you shower, so I went out to buy you some. I also got you some other stuff from the drug store.”

You don’t know how to process the fact that your fake boyfriend went out to buy you all the things you need. Especially since it was clear he made more than one stop. Jeonghan doesn’t seem to notice just how shocked you are as he places the bags on his bed and insists you look through them. You do as he says, feeling an intruding warmth fill your chest.

“Why’d you get me shoes?” You wonder when you open the Louboutin box.

“The shoes you came with don’t go with the dress I got you.”

His words make your heart thump with adoration that can’t be stifled. Heat spreads across your face as you hastily thank him before hurrying into the bathroom with the toiletries he bought for you so he can’t see just how much his actions affected you. It’s hard to ignore all the emotions gathering in your chest. Jeonghan is an exceptionally good actor, but you keep wondering why he's going this far. What’s worse is that you can’t say you hate it. Actually, you probably like it a little too much.

When you’re done showering, you dry your hair and try on the dress Jeonghan bought you. It’s snug against your frame, and you have to marvel at the fact that he actually did a great job choosing your size. You tentatively step out of the bathroom to see Jeonghan sitting on the bed occupied with his phone. It feels like the air is knocked out of him when he looks up to see you dressed in something he picked out and bought for you.

“Want to get breakfast?”

You try to ignore the fact that you’re playing a dangerous game by blurring the lines you’ve drawn when you say yes.

“Should we breakup before I go to Milan or after I come back from Paris?”

Your question is so casual that Jeonghan almost thinks he didn’t hear you right. He looks up from his phone to see you pulling out a suitcase from your closet. It’s almost painful that you don’t seem to realize how much your words have affected him.

“Breakup?” He repeats, throat going dry and heart sinking.

The way you nod normally like he doesn’t feel sick to his stomach has him reeling. “Yeah. Our parents are mad enough now, and the semester is almost over so I’ll start taking online classes again.”

Your reasoning makes sense (maybe a little too much), but Jeonghan really can’t accept what you’re saying. All that registers is the fact that you’re leaving and planning on having nothing to do with him anymore.

“You’re not coming back?”

You wonder if he actually sounds disappointed or if it’s just you wishing that he does. Either way, you can’t let him know that you feel like your heart is being ripped out because you’re asking to plan your breakup. “My agency only agreed to let me take classes in person for a semester. After the scandal I had with you, they don’t want me coming back again.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

You try to pretend like his words don’t evoke an emotion out of you that you should definitely not feel for him.

“And I don’t want to breakup.”

The silence is heavy. It isn’t easy to not interpret his words as a plea to stay because he has feelings for you. Especially since you’re sure that’s not what he means. “If it’s about your dad we can—”

“This has nothing to do with my dad.” Jeonghan says, frustrated that you’re not understanding how he's feeling. “This is about you and me—about us.”

It’s strange to think that there is an us when it comes to you and Jeonghan now, but he can’t let you fly across the world without letting you know how he feels.

“You have to know that this isn’t fake to me.” He says, more nervous and determined than ever.

You can’t say anything. Not because you think it’s some joke or that he’s not being sincere, but because you can’t believe these feelings that had been flourishing since you two decided to let go of the past are being reciprocated.

“I know you probably still hate me, and I don’t blame you if you do. Back then, I ruined your life because I was insecure and wanted to make my dad proud. And now because of me, you won’t be able to come back to school even though going to this university has been your dream since we were kids.” Jeonghan soldiers on even though every single emotion is trying to peak through. “I’m an idiot to realize it so late, and I’m a bigger one to be apologizing to you only now.”

Jeonghan walks toward you until he’s directly in front of you. Just as you hope he seals his apology with a kiss, he falls to his knees, bunny-like eyes looking at you imploringly.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m going to ask for your forgiveness anyway. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done to you since you came back into my life.” He’s close to tears as he grabs your hands. “I’ll do anything for your forgiveness. Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”

Your heart is thumping so erratically that it feels like it’s on the verge of exploding. Yoon Jeonghan is on his knees in front of you, eyes wet and pleading for you to forgive him. The onslaught of emotions you feel are scrambling your brain to the point where you can hardly think. “Hannie...”

The nickname makes him hopeful that maybe he can earn your forgiveness. He grips your hands a little tighter and gently uses his thumbs to caress the back of your hands.

“I don’t hate you, and I already forgave a long time ago.” You confess with a smile, heart still pounding.

Jeonghan stands and crushes you with a hug, body sagging in relief to know that you don’t hate him. He closes his eyes as he buries his face into your neck. The anxiety he was feeling fades away as he basks in your embrace.

“I’m sorry too.” Your apology is slightly muffled. “I was wrong to make your life a living hell, and I hope you can also forgive me.”

Jeonghan hugs you tighter. “I already have. It’s not like I didn't deserve it.”

You two laugh a bit until you pull back to look at your (fake?) boyfriend. “You really don’t want to be away from me?”

Jeonghan pouts and nods. He briefly thinks he might have to hang a sign around his neck for you to realize he never wants you to leave his side.

“Why?”

You need to hear him say it. This way, you’ll know for sure that you’re not just lucid dreaming.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Jeonghan never thought he could miss someone as much as he missed you. He’s surprised that it can feel like you’ve been away from him for years when in reality it’s only been a week. Not that it matters because he finally has you in his arms again. And he plans on showering you with love before you have to leave for Paris.

“I missed you so much.”

You feel breathless when Jeonghan’s lips mold against yours, not giving you a chance to say that you missed him too. He’s nestled between your legs as his lips devour yours, not caring that he’s been in the same position for the last fifteen minutes. Jeonghan can’t get enough of you, and he’s only gotten a small taste.

The whine you let out when Jeonghan’s tongue starts to play with yours is so hot that he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. One of his hands trails down your body to grab a handful of your ass before smoothing over your thigh to hook your leg over his hip. You moan into his mouth as your core grinds into his hardening dick.

Finally, you pull away from him, pupils blown wide with lust. “Missed you so much, Hannie.”

Your boyfriend gently grinds down in order to hear another one of your sensual moans. His dark eyes are staring at you with so much desire that your cunt starts to pulse at the thought of having him carnally.

“Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Jeonghan is patient as he undresses you. It’s a contrast to the way he quickly strips his own clothes. You know it’s because your dress is a custom gift from Wen Junhui, and it makes your heart warm and cunt drip with more slick at the thought that he actually remembered.

When he settles his head between your legs and spreads you open, you feel a bashful heat course through your body. Jeonghan is staring straight at your core with the most heated gaze you’ve ever received from a man. “Fuck. I knew you were pretty everywhere.”

Jeonghan’s gives your pussy a harsh slap, earning a surprised moan from you. He soothes the sting by gently rubbing his fingers against your clit, loving how wet your pussy keeps getting. Any coherent response you’re thinking of is quick to disappear when Jeonghan dives into your awaiting cunt. His tongue laps and slobbers all over your drooling lips, messily making out with the heaven between your legs.

The way Jeonghan is groaning into your pussy in absolute pleasure makes you grind you cunt into his mouth, moaning and crying out in just as much pleasure. His fingers flex into the flesh of your soft thighs as they lock around his head. Jeonghan greedily licks every inch of your sopping cunt, chin and cheeks increasingly becoming covered in your sweet juices as they drip down to the sheets below him.

“Fuck, Hannie!” You cry out with a jolt, hips rolling incessantly into his mouth. “Keep doing that! Feels so good.”

“Yeah? Like it how I fuck you with my tongue, darling?” He rasps burying his face deeper into your hot cunt.

You’re slowly slipping into a euphoric state that won’t allow you to think straight, and you’re only able to stay coherent because he pulls away momentarily to slide his fingers between your folds. He lewdly spreads you open before diving back in, slurping up every last bit of your juices. The taste of you had his cock twitching and throbbing between his thighs.

Jeonghan groans when your fingers slide into his hair as your pussy keeps getting tighter around his tongue. The room in the air feels hot as he continues to lap at your cunt, and you can only pant and moan as you feel a familiar feeling pooling in your stomach.

The entire lower half of his face feels sticky, but Jeonghan needs more. Wants it to be messier. His hands slip under to grab your ass and push you deeper on his tongue. Lewd squelches mix in with your cries of pleasure as he fucks you with his tongue. You feel your eyes roll back and your back arch when he gently starts to circle your puffy clit. Jeonghan then wraps his lips around it before sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck.” You moan out. “Jeonghan! Gonna come!”

His tongue rolls the sensitive bud as you jerk in his hold. Jeonghan’s groans are only turning you on even more because you can tell he’s enjoying this as much as you are. The arousal he feels has his cock aching for any sort of friction, but he’s just so lost in you that he can’t really care that his erection is starting to hurt. Honestly, he feels like he could eat you out forever.

“So fucking good.” You babble as your clit knocks against his nose with every buck of your hips.

You jolt when you feel Jeonghan suck your clit between his teeth, nibbling on the sensitive bud until your orgasm finally washes over you. Instead of pulling away, he pulls you closer and laps up your cream, slurping up everything you have to offer him. Precum gathers at the tip of his aching cock that he can feel it staining his underwear, but he’s too focused on you creaming on his tongue to care.

Your body goes slack after you ride out your orgasm. Jeonghan pulls a way from your cunt with a satisfied smirk. He wastes no time in getting rid of his underwear, leaking cock springing up with a wet slap against his lower abdomen after he takes it off. You lick your you lips and pull him closer to you as you’re eager to feel his skin on yours again.

“Like what you see, darling?” Jeonghan coos with a cocky smirk.

He’s stroking his thick cock slowly as he watches your eyes fix on the girth between his legs, raking them over him slowly with unmistakeable hunger. His cock is as pretty as he is; long and thick with the bulbous head oozing plenty of precum. The veins running alongside it have your cunt aching in need to feel them drag along your walls. Jeonghan undoubtedly has one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen, and you whine out in need as you cling to his neck. Your hips buck up on their own, desperate to feel even the slightest bit of friction.

“Don’t tease me.” You pout, eyes blinking up at him pleadingly.

That face you’re making is dangerous, Jeonghan thinks. It’s capable of getting you whatever you want. He has to close his eyes and exhale deeply when you snake a hand between your bodies and grip his cock, squeezing gently to goad him into fucking you. It’s hot and heavy in your hand and wet with his precum. Your hand drags over him in slow strokes.

“I want you so bad.” You whine into his ear. “Please.”

“You—“ He breathes with a stutter, hips slowly rolling into your hand. “Y-You have to answer me first, baby.”

You roll your thumb over his weeping tip, collecting the wet bead of his precum before smearing it along his cock. His whimpers and moans are so pretty, and you just revel in the sounds that you’re emmiting from him.

“Tell me. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Want your cock, Hannie. It’s so pretty—need it inside me.” You mewl as you squeeze the base of his dick.

Jeonghan lets out a chuckle that’s breathy against your ear. It sounds smug despite the blush spreading on his face. “Think it’s pretty, huh? The prettiest cock you’ve ever seen?”

“Mhm.” You moan as he slides his tip up and down your entrance, collecting your juices along his cock before he slaps your cunt with his dick.

Finally, he relents and slowly pushes past your wet folds. You both let out loud moans at the feeling of each other. Jeonghan feels like he’s in heaven with how your hot, tight cunt is gripping his cock while you feel a burning pleasure licking up your entire body as his big cock splits you open.

“Fuh-Fuck, darling. Tight little pussy’s gonna drive me crazy.” He groans before leaning forward to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, tongue exploring your mouth as he drinks in your moans.

You whimper and whine into his mouth, eyelids fluttering in pleasure as he slowly starts to fuck his cock into you. Jeonghan pulls away with a deep groan. His eyes roll to the back of his head as your tight cunt squeezes his dick. Your arms a wrap around his neck as your legs do the same around his waist. Jeonghan’s cock throbs, nearly coming at the sight of your mouth hanging open in pleasure.

“Such a pretty little cunt. And it’s all for me.”

“Only for you, babe.” You say through a moan, bucking your hips up to meet his slow thrusts.

Your actions make his cock hit deep inside you, the leaking tip brushing against your sweet spot. A wanton moan escapes you at the feeling. You arch your back in absolute pleasure, not believing that he’s able to reach that deep inside you. Jeonghan smirks at your reaction, loving how you’re already so lost on his cock. His hips keep rolling against yours, forcing his thick cock in and out of your tight pussy.

Jeonghan is splitting you open as he fucks his cock into you. Your head is swimming from the pleasure as he picks up his pace. His moans only add to your pleasure. You can feel his pelvis brushing your pulsing clit with every harsh snap of his hips. The carnal sound of his cock slipping in and out of your cunt paired with the slapping of skin is making your velvety walls clamp down on him tighter.

“Fuck, Hannie. Harder! Fuck me harder!” You beg, bucking your hips to match his thrusts.

You’re both panting harshly as you feel the delicious pleasure build steadily. It spreads from your legs and along your spine until it consumes you completely. Jeonghan is quickly becoming obsessed with the sight of you under him, pretty tits bouncing every time he sharply snaps his hips. He spreads your legs to see the erotic sight of your juices frothing at the base of his dick and sliding down his heavy sack.

“Cockhungry angel wants more?” Jeonghan coos, driving his hips deeper so his cock is slamming against your sweet spot, sending your vision white. “You can have more, love. Because this is your cock. All yours.”

His words make you become impossibly tight. Your velvety walls make him choke out a loud moan. It’s almost hard for him to move with how tight your pussy keeps getting. The sight of your cream coating his cock as it disappears into your hot cunt only makes his snap his hips harder, eager to feel you come undone on his dick.

“Mine.” Your babble sounds so possessive yet fucked out that Jeonghan can’t help but moan along with you.

“Yours.” He confirms through his deep groans. “Cock fits inside your little pussy like it was made for you.”

“Hannie!” You cry out, feeling drunk on how his veiny cock drags against your walls. “If you k-keep saying things like that—!”

He smirks, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek—an action too tender for how he’s ravishing you. “What, baby? You’re gonna gush all over me? Cover this cock with your sweet cream?”

His thumb trails down to your aching clit and starts to rub fast circles along the sensitive bud. Jeonghan does this until you break. Your thighs tremble as your gummy walls flutter around his cock. If only you could see the literal heart eyes your boyfriend is staring at you with as your pretty face contorts in pleasure as you fall apart on his cock. He’s never seen a more perfect sight, and he’s sure to commit it to memory as your orgasm spurts all over his cock, marking him with your essence in the most obscene way.

The slam of his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm bordering on too much as you whimper in his arms. Those cute little mewls turn into cries when he keeps going, so drunk in you that he can’t stop. The sound of your moans and the way you suck him in as you cream around his cock makes Jeonghan’s head fall into your neck. His thrusts are turning sloppy as he whimpers gently against your skin.

“I love you.” He pants into your skin, choking on moans as he pumps his cum into your cunt. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Hannie.” You mewl, loving the feeling of his cum filling you up.

You feel the mixture of his release and your slick trailing down the sides of your thighs. It’s so messy that you can’t help but crave more. Jeonghan’s breathing is heavy as he places gentle kisses on your neck. Neither of you can ignore the pulsing of his fat cock still inside you. He fucks his cum into you a bit more before slowly pulling out, enjoying the sight of his thick cum leaking down to your asshole. Your pretty pussy is pulsing as more thick cum squeezes out.

Jeonghan’s massaging a palm on the inside of your sticky thigh to keep your legs spread for his eyes when you say the words that make his cock twitch and ache all over again.

“Keep stuffing me full of cum, baby.”

It’s so easy to slide his cock back into your creamy pussy. You clench tightly as he draws back, then forward again. His thick dick stretches you open so deliciously that you can’t hold back your cries of pleasure. He’s balls deep inside your hot cunt, his pelvis brushing against your aching nub. Your vision goes blurry as he hits so deep. Jeonghan hooks one of your knees over his shoulder so he can slide in deeper.

“I’m going to fill you up. Gonna come in this pretty pussy and fuck you until you can’t take anymore.” Jeonghan groans as you mewl and whimper underneath him.

He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging the nub with his teeth, groping your other tit. You’re already so damn sensitive and arch into his touch. “Ah, Hannie!”

“Mmh.” He groans, releasing the hardened bud with a lewd pop as you clench around him.

Jeonghan starts fucking you slowly, letting you feel every vein along your pulsating walls. From tip to base, he feeds your tight hole like it’s starving. You whimper at the feeling, moans slipping out of you when he picks up speed. The tip of his dick rams into your cervix and makes you see stars. You’re so hot and messy already, your slick and his cum creating a ring around the fat base of his cock.

Dark eyes flicker between your sloppy hole and your fucked out face. Jeonghan can’t decide which is more obscene, but he loves both sights so much. His big cock spreads you wide, a euphoric burn blooming in your little pussy as your juices spill out. The cry you let out makes him kiss you. It’s soft in contrast to his length spearing you open. His tongue slips into your mouth, massaging yours as he swallows your moans.

Jeonghan traces tracing over your stretched hole to your fluttering clit, rubbing in hard circles as you keep crying out for him. He keeps pounding into you, your body moving up the bed with the sheer force.

“So fucking good!” Your mouth falls open in a moan as he rams into your sweet spot, that familiar electricity streaming through your body.

You can feel his pelvic bone pressing against your clit as his dick spears deeper. You’re squirming against your boyfriend, full and cockdrunk as he keeps rubbing his fingers on your clit. The toe-curling orgasm strikes so abruptly that you don’t expect it. Your juices squirt out all over Jeonghan’s length and his pelvis.

His thickness continues to invade your convulsing walls, almost brutally but you take it, gasping as your mind goes foggy.

“Fuck, darling. Keep soaking my cock like that.”

Your tits bounce as he fucks you harder, ramming into your sweet spot. You can’t process anything over the squelching noises and the sounds of your moans. Jeonghan groans, cursing lowly as you squeeze around him, begging for his cum. He grinds sinfully into your spasming cunt until he releases his hot cum into your pussy, filling you to the brim.

In utter pleasure, Jeonghan rocks into you with abandon, spurred on by your cries and your nails digging into his shoulders as his pelvis rubs your humming clit. His warmth spreads within you, leaking out from around his throbbing girth as his hips slow to a stop. You soften to quiet whimpers when he lets go of your leg, nuzzling into his neck in a daze.

Neither of you move, too lost in the feeling of each other’s arms to care about anything else.