#also some angst because (waves hands)

[chialattea]

cringe is dead god help me I will write my OC/Baby5 wlw fic or die trying

[prythianpages]

Be Patient | Azriel x Reader

summary: After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, where he spends seven days patiently longing after you.

warnings: fluff, mild angst bc of Az pining and lowkey being a menace in day court and reader being a little dense, also this is really long, 11K, my longest one shot ever...

note: This is a part two to Be Safe but can be read as a stand alone too. Huge shoutout to @stormhearty , @daycourtofficial & @thecrowesnest13 & the sweet overexcited anon who helped me with this! This is set pre-ACOTAR events and I realized my mistake in naming Helion as High Lord because I think he became High Lord UTM? so for this fic's sake, let's just assume he was already High Lord..

Mate. 

The realization crashes over Azriel like a tidal wave. It’s almost suffocating. Mine, the bond in his chest roars. Protect. The emotions swell, fueled by his shadows whispering and urging him on to go and keep you safe. Because who better to do so than him?

Before he knows it, he’s following you into Day Court, his shadows swallowing his form until Mor’s and Cassian’s laughter are distant echoes.

Piercing violet eyes greet him as soon as he steps out from his shadows, blocking his view. It’s almost as if he had been expecting Azriel. Talons rake across the shields of his mind and Azriel reluctantly lets him in. Go back, Rhysand asserts, holding the shadowsinger’s gaze.

I can’t, he nearly growls in his mind. 

The thought of leaving you, not being by your side is insufferable. It’s this very thought that has some of his shadows dancing toward you, the shadow curled around his ear whispering to him about your whereabouts. You stand, a couple of feet away, speaking with Helion. You’re completely oblivious to the two Illyrian males glaring at one another.

What do you mean you can’t? Rhysand doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in his tone.

Azriel then shows Rhysand what happened just moments ago. The mating bond snapping into place right as you were winnowing away. He leaves out the part where Cassian and Mor had been teasing him but he suspects Rhysand was aware of that.

Rhysand lets out a sigh, running a hand down the length of his face. What appears to be exhaustion tears through his features before he leans in toward the taller male. “Really?” He whispers in an exasperated hush. “Right now?

Azriel falters with a huff, his head following the direction his shadows had gone. It’s only when his gaze lands on you that it softens. “You say it like I had a choice.” 

But boy is he glad it is you.

”Fine,” Rhysand sighs after a long moment of silence. He knows he can’t do anything about it, the determination in the Shadowsinger’s eyes burning bright. He’d fear going against the Cauldron if he did. “You can stay. But—“ he lifts a jewel adorned finger in warning“—you distract her—“

Azriel’s head turns back to Rhysand and there’s a frown on his face. ”I don’t distract her.”

”Please,” Rhysand chuckles in disbelief. “Listen, I’m happy for you. Truly. But we didn’t come all this way for nothing and I need her to be able to focus. She can’t even think properly around you and if she finds out you’re her–”

“She thinks about me?”

Rhysand shuts his mouth with a withering stare.

Azriel’s shadows are then whispering madly, coercing him to turn his attention back to you. You’re giggling and smiling at Helion, cheeks flushed with a blush. Azriel flushes too but for an entirely different reason. Helion has your hand in his, amber eyes holding you captive, as he’s slowly lifting it up to his lips. 

Shadows are coiling softly around your wrist and before Helion can kiss your hand, your hand is being pulled away from his. Helion’s brows furrow, hand falling to his side as one lone shadow floats in front of him. He is not fluent in shadows but the way it writhes at him gives one clear message.  

”Oh, hi!”

Azriel watches, taking note of the small fond smile that forms on your face as you recognize the dark tendrils wrapped around your arm. Your eyes find him almost immediately and then you’re walking toward him.   

“Azriel, what are you doing here?”

“Shadowsinger,” Helion purrs in greeting, a pleased smirk on his face that grows at Azriel’s indifferent nod. “I was not aware you were coming too.”

Rhysand places a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft, black leather. Don’t say anything. Rhysand warns in his mind. We’ll talk somewhere else.

Rhysand forces a charming smile onto his face and Helion’s eyes flicker with interest. “I apologize for the short notice but Azriel is here to… escort y/n.”

“Escort?”

Both you and Helion say in unison. Though Helion’s tone carries mirth, yours carries shock. Confusion clouds your features, worry flickering in your wide eyes. Rhysand must’ve eased your mind, for Azriel feels the tension leave your muscles shortly afterwards. Still, you inch closer to him, as if seeking the comfort of his presence. He instinctively mirrors your movement, the blue siphons on his leathers brushing against your arm and gleaming in response.

 “You offend me, Rhys. I’ve welcomed you to my court with no ill intention.” Helion chides, though his voice is light with humor.

“y/n here is just very precious to us,” Rhysand says, choosing his words carefully. “I hope you can understand.”

Azriel’s shadows whisper the details of the scene around him, noting the apologetic look Rhysand sends to Helion. The High Lord of Day chuckles, but Azriel’s focus remains steadfastly on you. You turn to him with a questioning smile and he returns your smile, the warmth in his hazel eyes answering your unspoken question.

“I can see why,” comes Helion’s response, gaze lingering on you with an appreciative gleam.

Azriel’s head whips fast toward the High Lord of the Day Court and another sigh escapes Rhysand.

**

“Seven days. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s seven days too long, Rhys.”

Rhysand falters back, appalled by those words. He lets out a small laugh.  “Too long? Seven days is too long but a whole century wasn’t?”

“It hasn’t been a century,” Azriel hisses and Rhysand raises his brows. “It’s been eighty nine years. Besides, it’s different now.”

You’re his mate now.  

The mating bond had snapped into place with such force that he was still reeling from its impact. It was as if every emotion of his was amplified, sending a startling quiver through those golden threads in his chest. Jealousy jerked the most. It’s why every few seconds, his gaze flickered towards the hall you had disappeared into with the High Lord known for his scandalous appetites. One of his shadows had stayed with you and though he knew it would come back if Helion tried anything, it did nothing to ease him. He should be beside you right now. Not beside Rhysand, who seemed keen on keeping you from him.

“You saw the way she looked at you when you arrived.”

Azriel turned back to Rhysand, that image of you reappearing in his mind from Rhysand’s perspective. Surprise had flickered across your features, but like a passing storm cloud, it swiftly gave way to brightness. Your eyes sparkled, your lips curved into a fond smile. Without hesitation, you left Helion's side, drawn instinctively toward Azriel.  It was as if nothing else mattered but him, as if there was no one else in the world but you two.

The bond in his chest sings in delight because overriding all other emotions swirling madly around, there is love.

Azriel had loved you long before the bond’s sudden manifestation. His feelings had grown silently over the years, nurtured through shared moments and unspoken gestures. He knew he had to confess his feelings to you–something that had been eating at him for years. Eighty nine years to be exact, as he pointed out just a moment ago.

But fear always held him back.

Fear that he had mistaken your kindness for something more. Fear that he would ruin the decades of friendship you two had built. Fear that you loved him but not enough to see past his scars.

He realizes now how ridiculous those fears sound.

The kindness you harbored for him was not the same kindness you showed others. Your friendship was strong and precious, something he would fiercely protect no matter what. Your hand always sought his, never showing disgust towards the marred roughness of his own. You had even dedicated so much of your time to researching Prythian’s herbs and treatment for burns, working with Madja to make a special concoction–a soothing balm to alleviate the inevitable pains. 

By the Mother, he was a fool and it took the bond snapping into place to realize it.

“Yes. You both are.”

Now, the golden threads in his chest urged him to confess, to bridge that small lingering distance between you–

“But you can’t. Not now.”

“Get out of my head,” Azriel snaps, glaring at his brother.

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re thinking so loudly,” Rhysand replies, a touch defensively. “Look, y/n has been looking forward to this trip so much. If you tell her about the bond, it will consume her every thought and cloud that brilliant mind of hers. I know this is selfish of me but I need her to be focused and you to be patient.”

Azriel’s glare wavers. He knows how much this trip means to you. It was the first time Rhysand was entrusting a task upon you outside of the Night Court’s borders. Getting to see the magnificent library of the Day Court was also all your bibliophile heart could talk about. His desire to protect you and respect your focus battled fiercely with his yearning to tell you about the bond.

“Seven days?”

“Seven days,” Rhysand confirms, the tension easing from his face. “Then, she’s all yours. Just be patient.”

Azriel scoffs. “I’ll be so patient.”

But as they both join you and Helion for dinner, something tells Rhysand that this is going to be a long week.

**

Helion had hosted an extravagant feast for you all last night, even bringing out his finest, aged whiskey to celebrate. He had toasted it to Azriel, the surprise guest, with a cheeky wink. When his flirtatious efforts went ignored, Helion had turned his affections toward you. A notion that left Azriel seething and Rhysand on guard.

After dinner, Helion had given you a brief tour of the palace and introduced you to the fae you encountered along the way. To Azriel’s relief, the room he’d be staying in was right across from yours. His shadows had eagerly scouted the halls and both your rooms, becoming attuned to every creak and sound as an extra measure of safety. They fell asleep before he did and were the ones to wake him up when they heard you shuffling around your room.

As Azriel laces his leathers, the dark tendrils rush toward his door, peeking out underneath. It seems they are just as eager as he is to see you.

“Good morning!” You chirp happily, practically buzzing with excitement as you greet him at his door. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” A lie. Your joy is so contagious it’s easy to mask his exhaustion, his smile matching yours. “Did you?” 

He had, in fact, not slept well.

How could he when his anxiety began to gnaw at him? Because what if you grew tired of waiting for him within these seven days and gave into Helion’s charm? Each time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed with images of you reciprocating Helion’s advances, and sneaking off into his chambers in the middle of the night...

You give a noncommittal hum in response, pulling him out of his inner turmoil and bring him back to you.

 “I’m really glad you’re here, Az.”

Azriel’s shadows mirror your enthusiasm. A faint blush takes over his cheeks as you grasp his hand to tug him along with you. “Rhys has private business to attend to with Helion and I did not want to do this alone,” you say, waving your bucket list in the air with your free hand.

Of course, you had a list of things you’d like to do in Day. It instilled another fear into Azriel because what if you fell in love with Day and refused to go back to Night? He eyes all the bullet points on that list of yours and refuses to let himself make that fear come true.

Anything you loved here, he would make sure to remind you that the Night Court could do better.

“And who better to spend the day with than my loyal shadowsinger, right?” You remark with a playful glint in your eye.

“Right,” Azriel replies and there’s a brightness in his heart at your words. My loyal shadowsinger. His shadows dance in agreement.

But there is one thing the Night Court can’t replicate, a truth he reluctantly acknowledges as you both step outside into the warmth of the sun. 

A radiant smile breaks out on your face as you bask in the bright sunlight. Its golden glow kisses your skin, highlighting every feature he adores.

His leathers are not meant for this type of weather. He can feel himself growing hot, his shadows already endlessly working to keep him cool. Though you were dressed in something lighter than him, a pale blue dress, some of them flit toward you to do the same.

Azriel allows you to pull him along, savoring the feel of your hand in his. The cobblestone streets of the Day Court’s market are narrow, flanked by vibrant stalls and lively vendors. He tucks his wings tightly against his back to avoid brushing against the bustling crowd. His grip on your hand is firm. He tells himself it’s to ensure he doesn’t lose you amidst the sea of fae, but deep down, he has no intention of ever letting go.

Your first stop is a quaint little shop that, according to your research, sells the best espresso in Prythian. Azriel prefers his coffee black but you convince him to try Day’s specialty, a honey lavender latte. 

You watch him, awaiting his response.

“I hate it,” he tells you, though it’s surprisingly good. Really good.  “Velaris has better coffee.”

You take your drink back with a shrug as you head to your next stop. The flower market. As you stroll through the market stalls, you point out a cluster of flowers, your voice tinged with excitement as you describe their origins and meanings. You’re like a living encyclopedia and Azriel has always admired this about you. He asks you more questions, even if he already has the answers. Just so that he can see the light in your eyes dance with every word you speak.

A beautiful pink blossom catches his eyes as he’s read about it before, already familiar with its meaning. An idea sparks into his mind. Maybe, if he starts dropping hints, it’d make his impending confession go smoother. He tugs on your hand gently. “And this one?”

“It’s a pink camelia. A symbol of love, adoration and longing.”

He tosses a coin to the merchant and then picks the prettiest pink camelia among the bunch. He tucks it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The shadows that cling to him, hiding from the sun, peek out from above his shoulders, stirring in anticipation as you look up at Azriel and smile.

“y/n, I–”

His words hang in the air, the tendrils too distracted by you to notice the merchant approaching. Suddenly, a hand appears between you both, golden bracelets dangling before your eyes. “A pretty bracelet for the pretty lady?” the fae male asks. “They’re one of a kind!”

Your eyes widen as you take in the shimmering jewelry. “How much?”

“Ten coins,” the merchant replies, but as his eyes roam over you, he adds, “But for you, five.”

“Okay,” you agree, not having the heart to say no.

You reach for one of the gold bracelets, its chain holding a gleaming sun made of amber in the center. Before you can even open your coin purse, Azriel shoves ten coins into the merchant’s awaiting hand, his glare sending the man skittering away.

“Thank you,” you say to Azriel, struggling to clasp the bracelet around your wrist. Azriel gestures for you to let him help, and you do, watching the subtle furrow of his brow as he fastens the hook. “But why did you give him ten coins? He said five…”

“I didn’t,” Azriel lies smoothly for the second time this morning, and when your eyes narrow in suspicion, he simply smiles and tilts his head toward the right. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the art gallery if we want to make it to the water fountain show in time?”

That gets you going.

Your hold on his hand tightens as you lead the way to the art gallery. There, you’re captivated by the various amounts of artwork from Day, one of them being a very detailed and very naked sculpture of Helion. Azriel can’t help but remind you of the beauty of the Rainbow of Velaris, tugging you along, using the water fountain show as an excuse to get you to leave quicker. 

Afterwards, you visit a bookstore and many other stores, discovering that the bracelet on your wrist was not one-of-a-kind. They are available in various stores, each offering different variations. Instead of feeling disappointed, you find one specially for Azriel. Its chain is silver, adorned with a glimmering moon made from moonstone, a perfect complement to your amber sun.

By the time you both return to the palace, the sky is painted with hues of twilight, signaling it’s almost dinner time. 

“Thank you for helping me carry all my stuff,” you say with a sheepish grin, glancing at the bags scattered on your floor, most of them filled with gifts for the rest of the inner circle members since they couldn’t come along.

“Of course,” Azriel replies with a soft smile, his eyes warm. He had refused to let you lift a finger.

Standing on your tip-toes, you aim to kiss his cheek but underestimate the height difference, your lips landing on his jaw instead. The touch has the same effect. Azriel blushes, his wings twitching slightly, and his shadows snicker behind him. He hopes you can't hear them.

“Are you sure–” he clears his throat “–are you sure you don’t need help packing them up too?”

Your eyes light up and then you’re pulling him into your room. Unfortunately, no more kisses came from that. However, the shared smiles and easy conversation made it all worth it.

Be patient, he reminds himself. But he can't help but think of the golden threads unraveling in his chest, giving them an experimental tug. There’s no response, yet he hopes that yours will entwine with his any day now, binding you together forever.

**

As the golden, morning light of the Day Court bathes the grand hall, Azriel waits for you to enter the place where you'd have breakfast together. When he hears your approaching footsteps, he turns.

Suddenly, he finds himself unable to think. Unable to breathe, even.  

 You were beautiful. He was well aware of this, always has been. But today, you were absolutely stunning, like a goddess descended from the heavens. 

The dress you wore was different from your usual Night court dresses and though it screamed Day court fashion, Azriel couldn’t bring himself to care. The delicate ivory, flowing fabric draped elegantly over your body. His eyes trace every detail of the dress, from the plunging neckline to the high slits that reveal the soft and inviting skin of your legs. There’s a tightness in his throat when he catches a glimpse of the gold garter adorning your thigh.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile, a hint of shyness in your eyes despite the boldness of the dress.

"Morning," he barely manages to say.

“Good morning indeed,” Helion purrs as he appears behind you, Rhysand at his side.

Azriel, captivated by your beauty, barely registered the expression on Helion's face. Meanwhile, his shadows moved with a protective instinct, delicately brushing against your legs as if to shield you from Helion's lingering gaze. 

As you approach him, Azriel's heart continues to hammer against his chest. He musters up a smile. Though small, it’s full of admiration and awe. 

Helion chuckles. “My oh my, Rhysand. I did not know your Shadowsinger was capable of smiling.”

Rhysand lets out an amused exhale. His tone is light but it carries a subtle warning. “He’s capable of many things, including patience.”

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw as he falls into step with you. He doesn’t notice the small frown that takes over your features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, voice sweet despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

You shake your head in protest. “You look all hot and bothered.”

Azriel chokes on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“You’re already sweating,” you explain to him, reaching up with your free hand to brush his dark curls away from his forehead. His wings flutter in response to the surprise touch. “And it’s barely morning. Come on, you’re not wearing those leathers today. I’m sure Helion left some clothes for you too.”

Azriel heats up at the mention of Helion’s name, his mind briefly flickering to the thought of the High Lord leaving such a dress for you. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it further as you tug him back toward the room he’s staying in, mumbling about how Azriel has a death wish for wearing such thick clothing in the Day Court.

But it’s the High Lord of the Day Court who has a death wish, Azriel thinks.

“We won’t be long!” You call over your shoulder to Rhysand and Helion, who both give a dismissive wave.

Helion shakes his head in amusement. “Are they always like this?”

Rhysand lets out a snort. “Unfortunately.”

“Come. Let us have a drink. I believe we’re in very much need of one.”

“This early in the morning?”

“My friend, have you not had orange juice and champagne? Such a lovely, delightful combination. I call it a mimosa…”

**

Back in Azriel's room, you rummage through the clothes Helion had left for him. His eyes soften as you continue to fuss over him. Though he complains about it, he secretly loves when you fuss over him. He has to peel his gaze away from you when you bend down to pick up a top, his thoughts threatening to drift elsewhere if he doesn't.

Hot. Bothered. His shadows repeat your words from earlier to him and he eyes them with a glare.

Despite Helion’s wish for Azriel to wear a toga like he proudly does, Azriel is relieved at what you picked out for him. He’s also touched that you know him well enough to pick something close to his taste.  “Here,” you say, holding up a pair of loose fitting dark trousers and a sheen, flowy white top with a deep v neck similar to the one of your dress. “This will be perfect for today.”

“Fine,” Azriel murmurs, reluctantly taking the garments from you. Your fingers brush against his, sending a spark through him.

“I trust you can dress yourself from here,” you tease, giving him a playful pat on his shoulder.

Azriel lets out a scoff, resisting the urge to reply with a roguish remark. He quickly changes into the clothes you picked out for him, not wanting to cut into your breakfast time any more than necessary. Today is a busy day for you, as you will spend most of it in the library, researching all about the death gods for an assignment Rhysand gave you.

When he steps out of the room, your eyes light up as they look over his body. His muscles flex instinctively when your gaze lingers on the tattoos swirling on his chest. You blink, and with a smile say, “Radiant.”

Azriel feels the blood rush to his neck. He’s received many compliments before but never something as bright as “radiant.”  He suddenly yearns to hear more–only if they come from your pretty lips.

“Y/n, have I ever told you how much I—” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity, and he loses his resolve, Rhysand’s warning echoing in his head. “—appreciate you…”

Those were not the words Azriel had intended, and he lets out a defeated breath. Yet, your smile does not falter. Instead, you hook your arm through his, beaming up at him as you guide him through the halls.

“I believe you have but please, enlighten me again…”

**

Helion’s gaze fixes on you and Azriel as you finally joined them for breakfast. Dressed in resplendent Day Court fashion, the two of you look ravishing, and Helion cannot decide who is more captivating–you or the stoic shadowsinger at your side. 

His affections have always met a brick wall with the Illyrian male. So naturally, when another pretty face shows up at his court, he focuses all his attention on you. He savors your sweet reactions and Azriel’s jealous ones, sensing more between you two. He’s determined to unravel it.

After breakfast, Helion sidles up beside you, flashing a charming smile. “Allow me to admire you more closely, Lady Y/n,” he says, his voice smooth and rich as he extends his hand.

Azriel’s jaw clenches, his shadows swirling restlessly when you take Helion’s hand. Helion’s smile widens, and then he gestures for you to spin. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

You gasp, eyes widening in delight and cheeks tinting with a delicate blush. “You know Shakespeare?”

“Know it? I live it.” Helion responds. “I have his original copies in my personal library. You can come take a look, if you’d like. Just give me a day to…organize things.”

Azriel’s eyes narrow, not liking the intonation in the High Lord’s voice. Helion can feel that primal instinct–the possessiveness Azriel feels for you–simmering beneath the surface. His eyes widen slightly in acknowledgement and then he’s turning to Rhysand.

"Helion,” Rhysand drawls, confirming his suspicions. “As y/n’s escort, you're making Azriel's shadows rather restless.”

Helion laughs, a rich, melodious sound that fills the room. "I can't help it if your historian is so captivating, Rhysand," he says, winking at you and delighting in the response it shakes from Azriel.

**

Azriel falls into step behind you as Helion guides you all toward the magnificent library of the Day Court. Sunlight streams through towering windows, casting rainbows across the marble floors. You had praised it as the biggest and most beautiful library in all of Prythian. As Azriel stands in front of the entrance, he reluctantly acknowledges that none of the libraries in the Night Court could come close if this is just how the entrance looks.

As Azriel moves to step inside with you, Rhysand stops him.

"What are you doing?" Azriel huffs, peering over Rhysand's shoulder to catch a glimpse of the awed expression on your face as Helion talks to you. "I'm Y/n's escort, remember?"

“There’s no need for one in the library. You’ll only be a distraction here.” Rhysand replies and sensing his apprehension, he adds. “She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

“But–”

“No,” Rhysand interrupts and Azriel’s gaze hardens. A playful glint dances in Rhysand’s violet eyes. “Go take a walk, a cold shower or perhaps, read up on some poetry.”

 With that, Rhysand enters the library, motioning for the guards to shut the door. As the door closes, a single dark tendril manages to slide through. 

I don’t resort to poetry, Azriel thinks bitterly and he swears he hears Rhysand’s chuckle in his mind.

**

That night, during dinner, Helion took all your attention as the two of you quoted and mused over poetry, Rhysand chiming in occasionally. Azriel remained silent, a muscle ticking at his jaw.

The following morning, Azriel didn’t get a chance to speak to you much either. You and Rhysand were deep in discussion, strategizing how to tackle the vast array of books about the old gods. Azriel hadn’t even finished his coffee when you abruptly stood from your seat, mouth still full of food, and hurried off towards the library. The golden threads buried deep in his chest stirred with your passion.

So while you spent your day in the library, engrossed in your research, Azriel decided to spend his day doing his own research. He had his shadows sneak into your room and retrieve one of the poetry books he is certain you bought with you. You read one every night before bed.

Azriel reads some of the poems, engraving the words into his memory, just in case. He ends up falling asleep in his room, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. His shadows stir him awake, hours later, pointing to the clock hanging across from him. It’s almost dinner time so Azriel freshens up and then makes his way toward the library. 

“Hey, you,” you greet Azriel happily, two of his shadows trailing behind you, as you step out of the library. The second one had joined you this morning as the first one had been feeling lonely. “I think they like me better than you.”

“Keep them,” Azriel shrugs. When you're not looking, he gives them a knowing nod, though his voice feigns annoyance. “Traitors.”

“What did you do today?” You ask, falling into step beside him as you two walk toward the dining hall. “Anything interesting?”

“I learned something.”

“Yeah?”

Azriel turns to you, his expression serious as he clears his throat. "She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright... uh, meet in her something…eyes…?"

You blink at him, confusion furrowing your brow. "Something eyes?"

Before Azriel can explain, Helion chimes in, that cheeky grin plastered on his face. "It's 'Meet in her aspect and her eyes,’" he corrects smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, as he beckons for you to take your seats.

Azriel shoots a glare at Helion and Rhysand kicks him under the table in warning. Helion chuckles, unfazed by the death stare coming from Azriel as he continues. 

“She walks in beauty, like the night. Of Cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

“Oh, Lord Byron!” you say in recognition, turning to Azriel with a look that soothes his embarrassment. “She Walks in Beauty. What a lovely poem. Did you know it was one of my favorites?”

“I didn’t,” Azriel replies casually, though inwardly his heart races and his shadows race to cover the blush delicately tinting his neck. Of course he knew it was your favorite. You had scribbled hearts all over the page in your book. “I just liked it and thought I’d share it with you.”

Your smile widens, touched by his gesture. “I thought you didn’t fancy poetry, Az.”

“I thought the same,” Rhysand says, eyes narrowing at Azriel.

"I'm full of surprises," Azriel says dryly, meeting Rhysand's gaze evenly.

“Well, let’s hope it’s the last of your surprises.”

“I believe I also have some of Lord Byron’s works. How about I finally show you my personal library after dinner?” Helion speaks, directing all attention back to him.

Azriel opens his mouth to protest, not liking the inviting gaze in the High Lord’s eyes, but Helion interjects smoothly. “No worries, escort, ” Helion says, his grin widening. “I’ll take good care of y/n.”

Azriel sulks, a bitter taste in his mouth from Helion’s effortless charm throughout dinner. He tries his best to keep you from leaving, insisting you try every single dessert laid out on the table. Barely halfway through, you slump back in your chair, claiming you can’t eat another bite without bursting.

His ears perk up and he sends a small prayer to the Mother that your full stomach dissuades you from visiting Helion’s personal library, his own stomach not being able to handle the thought. Tonight, it seems The Mother does not favor him. When Helion offers you his arm, you take it excitedly, oblivious to the sulking Shadowsinger you left behind. 

Rhysand laughs, finding amusement in the entire situation, while Azriel shoots him a cold stare. If Rhysand hadn’t ordered Azriel to keep the truth of the bond from you until after your trip here, you wouldn't be alone with Helion now. 

Yet, Azriel can't help but bitterly reflect that if he had only been upfront about his feelings from the start, he wouldn’t be tormented by such longing now, the bond in his chest roaring at the thought of you with another male.

“I think y/n is more than capable of handling a flirtatious High Lord.”

Azriel’s lips twitch into a brief, reluctant smile. “She is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Cheer up, Az,” Rhysand teases, lifting his glass in a mock-toast to his friend. “There’s always more poetry to practice. Or perhaps, you should stick to brooding. You’re much better at that.”

“Pass the whiskey,” Azriel replies tersely, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“Patience is a virtue, Az.”

“So is silence.”

**

You’re swooning, over the moon, after exploring Helion’s personal library. He showed you his special editions of Lord Byron’s and Shakespeare’s works, allowing you to take one back to your room with you to read. You clutch the book to your chest, humming softly to yourself.

When you reach the hallway, you linger there for a moment, sparing a glance toward Azriel’s room. The night is still young and you’re surprised to see no light seeping through the door. Has he gone to bed already? Worry knits your brows as you wonder if he’s okay. He has been acting strange since he arrived. He had quoted poetry at you for Cauldron’s sake!

You walk toward his door and knock. There’s no answer so you knock again. “Az?”

You frown when you’re met with silence and your hands itch to open the door but you hesitate. He could either be asleep, out flying or out training. He had been eyeing the training grounds of Day during Helion’s tour.

With a sigh, you step into your room and decide to get ready for bed, making a mental note to check up on him in the morning. The day had been long and filled with unexpected twists and tomorrow would only bring another long day. Your eyes were tired from reading so much fine print.

As you're fluffing your pillows, you hear the sound of heavy, booted footsteps. Your mind wanders to Azriel but it can’t be. His steps were always quiet, silenced by his shadows. There’s a pause in the steps and a brief moment of stillness.

Abruptly, your door swings open and you let out a small gasp.

You watch as Azriel stumbles in, your heart flying to your chest in relief. His usually graceful steps falter as if the weight of his massive wings is too much to bear. Shadows cling to his wrists, doing their best to keep their master steady.

A look of pleasant surprise softens his features when he spots you, his hazel eyes widening at the sight of you in your nightgown. He brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing it in an attempt to make the flush spreading across his cheeks go away.

“Y/n,” he hiccups with a pleased grin. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, stifling a laugh at his adorable state. “This is my room.”

Azriel’s expression morphs, his eyebrows furrowing and a slight pout forming on his lips. “Didn’t get to spend the day with you,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he sways slightly. “Or night… you spent it with Helion instead.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you jealous, Az?”

Another hiccup. “Maybe.”

Your stomach flutters at the way he admits it so openly. The two of you have always had a playful, flirty dynamic. It had never gone beyond exchanged glances and lingering touches, though. Azriel never let it, and a part of you feared it was because he was too kind to reject you outright. Now, you begin to wonder if you had misinterpreted the situation all along.

“Well, it’s still night,” you tell him, “And you’re here with me now.”

“I am,” Azriel acknowledges with a hint of surprise, as if realizing it anew. “And I know poetry too…”

 He straightens up, attempting to appear serious again despite the slight slur in his words. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height... uh, something about sight, I think?”

Did he somehow know this was another of your favorites? It seems unlikely. In all the years you've known him, Azriel has never shown interest in poetry. Or at least up until two hours ago. You should check his forehead. What if he was coming down with something?

Instead, you clear your throat and help him out.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee–” your voice wavers at the look Azriel gives you, his hazel eyes shining with an emotion that threatens to weaken your knees. “–to the level of every day’s. Most quiet need, by sun and candle light…”

“I love thee too,” Azriel breathes, holding your gaze and stepping closer to you. “Freely–purely…no, freely as men strive for fight.”

“Right,” you correct with a laugh. “Freely as men strive for right.”

Azriel’s pout deepens, yet there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbles.

He continues to make his way toward you and you hold out your arms, worried he’ll lose his battle with balance. He ends up slumping face-first onto your bed, his wings splaying out behind him. “Can I stay here? Just for a little bit. I missed you all day.”

“Yeah,” you reply with a soft smile. You missed him too. “But can you make room for me on my bed?”

“Mmm,” Azriel hums, turning on his side. He pats at the space right in front of him, his shadows moving to rest behind him to give you space. “Come here, my pretty historian.”

You feel a rush of warmth course through you, momentarily flustered by the nickname. Looking at Azriel, you hesitate. It wouldn’t be the first time you two shared a bed but it’d be the first time you’d share one in a bed not meant to accommodate for Illyrian wings. 

Maybe, it’s best if you help him to his room. Your eyes look toward his shadows and you notice them slowly curling around his back as if going to sleep themselves. They would be no help and neither would Rhys as you were sure he was sharing his night with a pretty fae or two. And you would definitely not be able to carry Azriel back to his room on your own.

So when Azriel pats the bed again, you join him. He frowns when you don’t nestle against him as he wished. Instead, you slip under the covers, resting on your side to face him fully. He adjusts to mirror your position, close enough that you feel his warm breath, noses and hands brushing against each other.

“You smell good,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Marry me?”

You smile, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Is that all it takes to marry you? To smell good?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter close, a contented sigh escaping him. “I’d marry you, even if you didn’t smell good,” he says, his words mumbled but filled with affection.

Your heart swells and you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, feeling exhaustion come over you when Azriel yawns. 

“Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he murmurs, already drifting off to sleep, a peaceful smile on his face. “My sweet, pretty ma–”

A shadow, one of the ones that have taken a liking to you, crawls over you and rushes to Azriel, curling around his mouth to silence him. You are too tired to think about it, simply letting sleep claim you in each other’s comforting presence.

**

Azriel wakes up with a soft groan, still enveloped by your scent. His shadows stir as he does and he hesitates opening his eyes, not ready to face the aftermath of his drunken state. The impending headache is already breaking the surface. When he opens his eyes, he finds you missing. His worry is eased when one of his shadows brings a small piece of paper to him.

He shifts, moving into a sitting position. One hand rubs at his head while the other takes the note you left for him. 

To my star breaking poet, you looked too peaceful to wake. I left some water, tea and bread on the nightstand. Enjoy.

-your pretty historian

His lips tug up into a smile. He turns his head, finding the drinks and food you left for him. He doesn’t dare touch them though, despite the bond in his chest yearning for him to. He then searches for the clock in your room and his eyes widen. It’s past noon. Azriel has never slept this late or felt so rested, especially after a night of heavy drinking. 

Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to fall back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. He lingers there a moment longer before finally rising and heading to his room to bathe and get ready for the day. Knowing you'll be in the library all day, he wonders what to do with himself, having given up on poetry after his unsuccessful attempts.

**

Azriel makes himself busy by wandering the palace, feeling a bit uneasy walking so freely in the open. He’s so accustomed to blending into the shadows that this exposure feels unnatural. His shadows cling to him, hiding beneath his cloak, equally uncomfortable with the brightness. The day is cooler, so he’s donned his leathers, a small part of him hoping you'll fuss over him again when you see him.

He visits the markets, but they seem less vibrant without you by his side. He then goes to the training grounds of Day, catching up with his missed training and releasing his pent up frustrations with a training dummy. Upon returning to the palace and washing up, he heads towards the library. Though he can’t enter, he knows there are small tables and padded chairs just outside. He found you there during one of your breaks yesterday, so he sits at one of the tables, hoping you'll come again.

A newspaper rests on the table before him, so he picks it up to pass the time. After reading through it twice, he moves to a different table with a chess set, his shadows engaging him in a game. After losing to them three times, he leans back with a sigh. He really should’ve brought some of his unfinished reports to work on.

Overcome with the bond, he had followed you without hesitation, not anticipating that Rhysand would keep him from telling you about it. He didn't have a plan, so while he wasn't happy about it, at least it gave him time to come up with one. The minute you’d go back to Night, Azriel was set on visiting your favorite restaurant and making reservations. He’d surprise you with a day full of your favorites, ending it with his confession, where he hoped you would accept him. 

It was one thing to love him back. Another to accept him as your mate.

Before he knows it, the sun begins to set, his shadows buzzing with life as darkness takes over. You still haven’t stepped out of the library. He wonders if you've eaten or had enough water. One of his shadows slips out from underneath the library doors and flutters back to him. It reports that the other shadow, still with you, helped you reach for books and turn pages. It had even wanted to brush your hair back when it fell loose from your tie but was met with an invisible force. High Lord, the shadow hissed and he realizes Rhysand knew him better than he thought. That unwanted chaperone…

When he learns you've skipped lunch, his worry deepens. He paces back and forth in front of the grand doors, his heart aching with the intensity of the bond. Every instinct within him urges him to protect and care for you. Unable to hold back any longer, he takes advantage of the darkening sky and slips into the library.

The shadow that had reported to him leads the way, darting ahead. His other shadows eagerly rush forward, reaching you before he does. They greet the lone shadow that had stayed by your side like long-lost friends reuniting.

Azriel’s heart calms when he finds you asleep, slumped over a desk and surrounded by a mountain of books. You're curled into yourself, goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of your arms. He gently removes his cloak from his leathers and drapes it over you.

You instinctively snuggle deeper into the cloak, half asleep. “Smells s’good,” you murmur, and the bond in his chest tightens.

He gently removes your glasses, the ones you wear when doing prolonged near work, and places them carefully into one of his pockets. There’s a faint glimmer surrounding you and he’s relieved that whatever barrier Rhyand had placed upon you was weakening by the second. Almost like clockwork. He easily breaks through the magic shield, blue siphons gleaming. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his shadows sighing in response.

His touch lingers on your face, thumb ghosting over your cheek.  “It’s time for dinner.”

You let out a groan in protest, not wanting to move from your spot.

“You need to eat, Y/n,” he whispers softly. “And then, you can go to bed.”

You blink sleepily at him. “Will you carry me?”

“Of course.”

As he lifts you into his arms, your warmth and the scent of your hair envelop him. The bond in his chest thrums with joy, his shadows harmonizing in response.

Three more days, he reminds himself. Three more days until he can finally speak of the feelings swelling in his heart. Be patient…

**

After another day of researching death gods, your mind feels heavy with overwhelming knowledge. Exhausted, you keep to yourself during dinner. You can feel Azriel’s worry, can feel the way the shadows that linger in your presence caress the back of your neck in an attempt to ease you. Rhysand slips into your mind and after assuring him you were just tired and had a headache, he lets you excuse yourself. Helion, ever the caring and doting High Lord, sends you off to bed with a tea to soothe your headache.

You’re quick to wash up and change into your nightgown, slipping under the warm covers with the tea Helion gave you in hand. It has a rich floral scent and as you take your first sip, it brings instant relief to the dull ache in your head. When you’re done, you place the empty cup onto your nightstand and lay down, closing your eyes.

You find yourself trapped in a dark, oppressive forest. 

The trees are twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. In the distance, you hear the sinister laugh of Koschei, the death god who you've learned loves to trap women. His voice is a chilling whisper, echoing through the trees, “You cannot escape me.”

Suddenly, the scene shifts, and you’re back in the Court of Nightmares, having to suffer through another court affair. Your hair is pulled so tight into a bun and the corset of your dress barely gives any room to breathe properly. The oppressive atmosphere presses down on you, taking even more of your breath away. You’re standing before your father, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“You will marry Lord Berbrooke.”

“No,” you whisper, eyes widening in fear as Lord Berbrooke appears at your father’s side. Your hands reach for your father’s arms, a desperate attempt to stay with him instead of leaving. You’d much rather continue to endure a life of neglect and solitude than a life that promised violence and bruises.

“Grandfather wouldn’t want this.”

Your father yanks his arm out of your grip, staring you down with a glare. “Your grandfather is dead. It does not matter what he wants.”

Fear grips you as Lord Berbrooke steps closer, a predatory smile on his face. You try to run, but your feet are rooted to the spot. He laughs, the sound chilling you to the bone. It morphs into the sinister laugh from earlier. Lord Berbrooke’s face flickers and shifts, morphing between his own and what your mind imagines of Koschei.

Panic surges through you, and you cry out for help, but your voice is swallowed by the darkness.

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps. Goosebumps prick your skin as the sinister laugh echoes in your mind, refusing to fade. Panic grips you, and without a second thought, you throw off the covers and rush out of your room, desperate to escape the haunting sound that seems to follow you.

**

Something deep in his chest stirs, flooding him with unease. The bond. Something is wrong. Azriel’s head instinctively turns to his door, shadows sensing your presence in the hallway. Though small and quiet, he can hear your pacing and sense your hesitation as you face his door.

Azriel rushes to the door immediately and opens it. Concern etches on his face as he takes in your trembling form, the way your hands are covering your ears and eyes stricken with pure fear.

His hands reach for yours, gently removing them from your ears. Your eyes remain frantic, scanning over him, as if trying to discern if he is real or not. Without another word, Azriel pulls you into his arms, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, and you cling to him.

“I had a nightmare,” you whisper, pulling back slightly and looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “About Koschei, and then I was back in the Court of Nightmares. My father… Lord Berbrooke…”

Azriel’s eyes darken with anger and protectiveness. You don’t need to say any more for him to understand. “You’re safe now,” he says firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words and the strength of his embrace begin to calm the storm inside you. You bury your face in his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Can I stay with you?”

“Always.” Azriel answers and then he’s guiding you into his room.

He helps you to his bed, tucking you under the covers before carefully settling on the other side. You nestle closer into his chest, your head finding its place against his heart again. His chin rests atop your head and neither of you speak for a while.

“Thank you,” you breathe, voice heavy with emotion.

Azriel knows your thankfulness extends beyond tonight. He had been the one to save you from that dreadful fate that night in the Court of Nightmares. He had been the one to bring to Rhysand’s attention of your grandfather’s forged will, helping you search for the real one. And when Rhysand had moved you to Velaris, Azriel had been your first friend.

“Do you feel better or would you like me to make you–”

“I feel better,” you interrupt, not wanting him to leave, even if it's to make you another tea. “Just your presence is enough,” you confess quietly. “You have a way of making me feel safe and at peace, Az.”

At those words, Azriel feels like he might burst with emotion. He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.  If only you knew…

**

As you walk through the library of the Day Court, you take one last look around, letting your gaze sweep over the grand space. The high, arched windows allow streams of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow on the polished marble floors. There are rows upon rows of polished wooden shelves and books of every size and color line them, their spines creating a mosaic of knowledge and history. The scent of parchment and old leather, is one you’ll always hold dear.

Tonight is your last night here. A trail of shadows follows you, blending into the shafts of the light and shadows cast by the towering bookshelves. Rhysand, lounging in the entrance of the library, notices the once unusual sight that has now become routine.. 

“What are you, a Shadowsinger now?” he quips.

You glance back, catching a glimpse of Azriel’s shadows entwined with your own. They’ve become increasingly protective of you lately, always trailing close, whether you're heading to the library or simply going about your day. What you hadn’t noticed until now was how their numbers had grown since last night.

“I’ve never seen his shadows act like that,” Rhysand comments.

“Oh really?” 

Rhysand nods, a glint dancing in his eyes. He gives a small wave to one of the tendrils peeking over your shoulder, lips curving upwards when it cowers away.  “They usually stick to him, rarely leaving his side. It seems you’ve captured their interest as you’ve captured their master’s.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his implication. “I guess they like me,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rhysand’s grin turns knowing. “It’s more than that, Y/n. Azriel’s shadows are an extension of his will. They’re drawn to what he cares about most.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I suppose I should thank them for showing me such care.”

Rhysand chuckles. “Or thank Azriel.”

**

Rhysand’s words linger with you throughout the evening, much like Azriel’s shadows. A spark of hope blooms in your chest, daring to blossom into something more. You knew Azriel cared for you, but caring for others was in his nature. That’s who he was—caring and protective.

You glance at the shadows caressing your arms, a pensive frown tugging at your lips. In all the years you’ve known him, you had never seen his shadows linger on Rhysand or Cassian. Or Mor, who you were so sure held the Shadowsinger’s affections. 

You recall the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the rare smiles he reserved only for you, the protective glances he shot your way whenever danger was near. Your heart races as the pieces start to fit together, a mixture of shock and elation coursing through your veins. Dare you hope that the man you had loved in secret for so long might feel the same?

The idea seems almost too good to be true, and yet…his shadows were here, with you, wrapped around your fingers. Quite literally. 

You look down at the shadows twining with your fingers, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time, you allow yourself to entertain the possibility. 

With this newfound hope, you head toward the Day Court’s kitchen. 

After praising the chef one night, he invited you to his kitchen, offering to teach you how to prepare some of the Day Court’s delicacies. Eager to express your gratitude to Azriel for always being there for you and to Helion for being a gracious host, you decide to finally take up on the chef’s offer. Perhaps, you can even sneak in some of Azriel’s favorites into tonight’s menu.

**

As it was the last night of your stay, Helion had invited close friends and other allies of his court, filling the grand dining hall with laughter and conversation. You quietly took your seat across from Rhysand and beside Azriel, murmuring a soft greeting. Helion winks at you and the shadow around your arm tenses.

The High Lord of Day stands from his seat, at the head of the table. He raises his glass with a broad grin. “A toast to the Night Court, our cherished guests. It has been an honor to host you all, and I sincerely hope we may have the pleasure of your return soon.”

Everyone at the table raises their glasses, including Azriel—though only after a nudge from you. His expression remains flat and dry as he lifts his glass. You clink yours against his with a teasing glint in your eyes, coaxing a small smile from his lips.

Helion takes a seat and with a wave of his hand, tonight’s feast materializes in front of you. There’s a slight raise in Rhysand’s brow, betraying his mild surprise. Every single platter–from the appetizers to dessert seems to be a perfect blend of Day and Night delicacies with the names to match. There’s the bruschetta, the bread slices topped with sun-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and a hint of night garlic. Then, there’s the spinach artichoke dip made from sun-infused spinach, blended with moon-cheese and served with nightshade vegetables.

Rhysand looks up, turning to Helion. “Compliments to the chef.”

Helion’s eyes twinkle with delight as he meets your gaze.  “And y/n,” he says. “She collaborated with the chef to create tonight’s dinner.”

You smile, a touch of pride warming your cheeks as you look around the table. However, the smile quickly fades when you hear a sudden spluttering. It’s Azriel. He spit his food out, his face a mask of horror and conflict. 

“Azriel?” you ask in concern.

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his voice suddenly tight.

Your face flushes and a nervous laugh escapes you.  “Relax, it’s not poison,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. But your attempt falls flat. 

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats more forcefully, then turns and leaves the room, his movements stiff and tense.

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears, the hurt and confusion overwhelming you. You slump back into your chair. “I don’t think I’m hungry either,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Rhysand nudges your foot from under the table. “Don’t mind him,” he says softly, violet eyes filled with sympathy. “Please, eat. You’ve worked so hard on this.”

You nod, trying to muster the strength to lift your fork, but the sting of Azriel’s rejection is too much. You push the food around your plate, your appetite completely gone. The evening that had started with such promise now feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by whatever tension has now befallen between you and Azriel. 

In the corridor outside the dining hall, Azriel leans against the wall, his heart pounding. He knows he’s hurt you, but the thought of unintentionally accepting the bond is too much for him to bear. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of the fragile line he’s been walking.

One more night, he reminds himself. One more night and then he can tell you everything.

He can only hope you don’t already hate him for tonight.

**

Tossing and turning, you let out a long breath as you stare up at the ceiling. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you hadn’t indulged in the dinner you had put so much effort into crafting. How could you, when the one person you made it for refused to have even a bite? 

His reaction had been as clear as day. Repulsed.

Now, doubts flood your mind. What if you've completely misread everything? The shadows beside you, initially a source of comfort, were beginning to stir unsettling thoughts in you. Maybe Azriel sent them not because he cared so deeply for you but out of obligation and pity?

You're not a High Lord like Rhysand, nor a warrior like Cassian or Mor who fought in the war. You’re just a noblewoman from the Court of Nightmares who fled from a forced marriage. How typical and utterly helpless. That’s what you’ve been since you met Azriel.  It shouldn’t have shocked you that he followed you into Day Court. 

Any hope that had blossomed in your heart now withers. You were a fool to even entertain the thought. You’ve known Azriel for almost a century and in those years, he’s never hinted at seeing you as anything more than a friend so why would it change now?

Throwing off the covers, you sit up abruptly, gaze flickering towards the door. The urge to confront him grips you fiercely. He did not have to return your feelings but he didn’t have to hurt your feelings so harshly by spitting out your food. You had to settle whatever this was now, even if it left you broken-hearted. 

Without bothering to change out of your nightwear, you leap from your bed. The shadows on your bed stir awake and your footsteps quicken, fearing his shadows would reach him before you could.

They beat you to it, even going as far as opening the door for you, allowing you to barge into his room. You’re not surprised to see Azriel wide awake. His shadows must’ve warned him beforehand. He sits on his bed, already facing you and you hate the way your gaze falls to his bare chest. Your eyes trail up the intricate tattoos etched there, slowly making your way up.

The words catch in your throat. You’re nervous. A foreign feeling around Azriel. It makes you want nothing more than to turn and run out the door. His shadows shut the door behind you as if sensing your thoughts.

You refuse to meet his eyes, fearing what you’d find in those hazel depths. “You hate me don’t you?”

The words tumble out unexpectedly, sending a chilling shiver through you. His gaze flickers downward, catching the way you nervously fidget with your fingers, before lifting with intent and searching for your eyes. 

“What?”

The sound that leaves Azriel borders on what sounds like amusement, and you cringe, turning your head away. Tears prick your eyes, his shadows rushing to wipe them away gently, coaxing your gaze back to their master. When his eyes meet yours, all you see is concern. 

A strange sensation creeps along your ribcage as he stands from the bed, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel states firmly and when his words don’t soothe you as he expected they would, he frowns. His hands replace the shadows brushing against your face. “What makes you think that? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question,” you laugh humorlessly, casting your gaze down. “Something has gotten into you. You’ve been acting so differently, and at first, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought as I seem to be wrong every time–”

“It does matter. Tell me.” 

It’s now or never. Your throat tightens as you muster the courage—the last bit you have, having used most of it to barge into his room. 

“We’ve been walking a fine line, you and I. For decades. Almost a century... And now, I realize you’ve simply been too kind to reject me. I’m sorry if running to you after that nightmare was too much, but did you have to spit out my food? I would’ve preferred if you’d just told me you didn't like me instead of showing me.”

“You’re not making any sense right now.” Azriel says.

“Neither are you.” You shoot back.

“I don’t hate you,” Azriel repeats, hurt flashing across his face at the thought of making you feel that way.

“You spit out my food in front of everyone, Az.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

You feel Azriel’s hand tense against your face. “I can’t say.”

Your breath hitches, and you take a couple of steps back, removing his hands from you. “Because you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes shut tightly for a moment, his head turning toward the window. He feels the faint warmth of the rising sun and inhales deeply. There’s something burning bright in his eyes when he looks at you again.

“Because you are my mate.”

Mate.

A vulnerable shakiness accompanies the word. The words hang in the air, heavy and shocking. The feeling teasing at your ribcage begins to crawl upwards. Your heart skips a beat as it meets your chest, awakening something deep inside you that you hadn’t realized you had.

Mate.

“I’m your what?” You gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as the golden threads of fate begin to unravel.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Azriel approaches slowly, his expression tense and cautious. “You’re my mate. The bond snapped as you were winnowing away. That’s why I followed after you. I wanted to tell you, but Rhysand asked me not to. At least not until we were done here.”

Your racing heart sinks into your stomach. More tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision.  “So you don’t want me as your mate either…”

“No,” Azriel’s eyebrows knit together so hard you worry they’ll stick, shadows swirling around him like storm clouds. His hand reaches out for you but you take a step back.  “I’m happy it’s you. Relieved. I’ve loved you for so long...”

Your tears fall freely and he takes another deep breath, wings shuddering along with the timber of his voice. “Gods, do you know how agonizing these past days have been for me? Watching you fall in love with this court, with—” He hesitates, unable to say his name “—it’s High Lord.”

His words ignite a spark within you, fanning the hope that had begun to take root in your chest.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fall in love with this court," you begin and Azriel gives a subtle wince, looking away from you. "But Day is not my home."

Slowly, Azriel looks back at you, and a torrent of emotions floods over you. You're uncertain if they are yours or his, as the bond between you surges like a turbulent river.

“The Night Court is. That’s where my family is. That’s where you are. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even Prythian’s best library.”

Azriel’s eyes soften and when he takes a step forward, you don’t step back. A glimmer of hope lights up his features.  “And what of it’s High Lord?”

“He’s nice but he’s not you.” You say with a soft smile. “I love you and only you.”

Azriel cups your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours. The smile that breaks out on his rivals the brilliance of the rising run behind him. “I’ve admired you, desired you for so long…I just didn’t want to rush you and when the bond snapped, I feared it’d overwhelm you."

You look up at him, the raw honesty in his eyes reflecting your own emotions. “So, what now?”

Azriel brushes the last tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent. “Be mine?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Always.”

And then you kiss him, the bond between you shimmering and glittering. A tangible, golden connection intensifying with every heartbeat.

a/n: I don't like the way I ended this 😭 not my best tbh, I just feel like it was missing something. I honestly wasn't expecting the high demand for a part two to Be Safe so I hope you enjoyed some of this as much as the first part. Anyway, here's a little meme I had made for this fic while I was procrastinating on finishing it.

here's a bonus scene.

tag list (tagged all those who commented and reblogged with tags, in case you wanted to read more. sorry if I missed some!): @jswizzlewrites , @hellodarling1357, @fxckmiup, @pricklepearbloom,

@tothestarsandwhateverend, @mika-no-sekai-blog, @cherryjain17, @illyrian-dreamer,

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[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: 'Intense Desire' ༄࿔ L.F.

⤷ Sex Pills | Overstimulation | Squirting

♱ word count: 2.9k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, sex pills usage (felix accidentally taking them), mention of a handjob in a car, he gets “mean” for like a split second, unprotected p in v, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampies, squirting, if u quint theres 1 sentence of angst at the end, i might be forgetting something

♱ notes: sorry this was delayed! I made it a little longer than the others in hopes that it would make up for the tardiness <3 also 1 the beginning might feel rushed (it was) and 2 sex pills dont completely work like this?? But its fiction so.. pls bare with me im so stressed out LMFAO

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The pounding in Felix’s head was just enough to distract him from the colorful clothes around the two of you. The initially exciting shopping trip to the mall with your boyfriend had quickly slowed down thanks to the headache he developed out of the blue. Your comforting words and warm hands on his face only helped so much, and he felt horrible for his body refusing to let him enjoy your date.

It wasn’t until you reminded him of the medicines he had packed away in his bag that he let up on his pouting Then, with the familiar feeling of the plastic of a pill bottle on his fingers and a gentle reminder from you that this should be fun for the both of you, Felix finds himself leading you to the food court. He quickly buys a bottle of water and chugs down 3 pills. It’s over the dosage of 2 he normally would take, but he’s desperate to have a good time with you.

Not long after, he’s back to his normal self and the thumping pain in his head is long gone. Wide smiles and crescent eyes watch you pick out interesting clothes, some even meant to match with him. Everything is back to normal!

That is until 30 minutes after the fact when he’s patiently sitting outside of your changing room waiting for you to try on the next outfit. He starts to feel a new, less painful ache. One between his legs that he’s all too familiar with.

Literal lines of sweat are dripping down his forehead and his neck when you open the curtain to present the outfit you picked out. He forces a smile and has to tear his eyes away from the tight pants to give his opinion. A curt, breathy, “Beautiful.”

The sweat immediately catches your attention and obviously raises concerns from the way your eyebrows furrow. He notices right away and tries not to let it worry you, shooing you away and encouraging you to try on the last pieces of fabric that await you in the changing room.

The second the curtains close behind you he racks his brain for possible reasons as to why a sudden, strong feeling of horniness took over his body. It’s even to the point where his whole body tingles from the ceiling fans above him. The slow gusts of wind make his cock ache in his jeans and goosebumps litter his arms.

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten this horny in his life. Even the time when you managed to rile him up to the point where he almost came in his jeans when you brushed past him he had never felt this way. He swore he could feel his veins burning as he looked through his bag for his phone, praying that Google would explain everything.

But he doesn’t get far enough to grab his phone, because the realization hits him like a tsunami wave. The pills. He realizes too late that he never checked which medicine he took. And sure enough, when he checked his bag, the tiny plastic bottle he had a hold on earlier wasn’t his Ibuprofen.

Instead, it was a blue pill bottle that he kept for special medicines that he would occasionally get prescribed. This time around, it was the brand new, not prescribed pills he had put to the side for… intimacy reasons.

It was embarrassing at first for him. A young, attractive man in his 20s struggling with his sex life. All thanks to the wear and tear from work stress: the unforgiving cycle of working too much and being overwhelmed, then taking a break and working too little just to fall behind.

You understood! It’s understandable to not be able to get hard when there’s a never ending dread that has made home in the back of your mind. And it was clearly obvious that he is attracted to you, every other time the two of you were intimate is enough evidence for that.

So you offered him an idea that might help! That idea being “horny” pills. It took some convincing and consistent reassurance for him to cave and agree. Which led to that little blue bottle of little red pills that made his not-so-little friend crave your attention.

“Lixie?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydreaming and his head snaps up to see your head poking out of the curtain. Your giggle goes straight to his dick and he has to force a smile to get through the ache. “I need your help with this dress. I can’t get the zipper up.”

You don’t need to ask twice, especially when the promise of getting to see your bare skin is on the table. He’s joining you in the blink of an eye, using his clammy, shaky hands to zip up the dress the rest of the way. Your body flushes at the way he licks his lips as he looks you up and down multiple times.

“Do you like it?” His eyes snap up to yours in the mirror and he nods. It’s pretty obvious to you what’s going on in his head at this point, minus the reason for it, so you rip the dress off and rush to the cashier as fast as you can.

Felix is on your tail the whole time. A hand on your hip and his chest pressed to your back as he shoves his credit card into the card reader. Then again when the two of you get to the car, this time both of his hands on your hips and his face shoved into your neck.

“Need you so fucking bad.” His hard-on is even more obvious now as he grinds it against your thigh, groaning and whining into your neck about how good it feels. You struggle to get the car keys out of his pocket when his hands are all over you, making you feel good when they aren’t even doing much.

“Felix… Not here.” The two of you drabbled in public sex before so it wasn’t a new experience for either of you. But it had been a while since the two of you were intimate so you really didn’t want it to be in the dirty car garage of a mall. In the middle of the day, mind you.

“I need something. Baby, please. I-I can’t do this.” The desperation in his voice is enough to make your neck whip around, almost knocking into his as you look back at him with confusion. He knows you all too well and the answer to your unspoken question is already on the tip of his tongue.

“I accidentally took those sex pills instead of pain meds.” He doesn’t bother explaining further; he doesn’t care anymore. The only thing that’s on his mind is getting you into the car so he can get some sort of stimulation on his poor, achy cock.

You're lucky to even have gotten his hands off of you after that, let alone getting him in the passenger seat and buckled in without him launching at you. However you’re even less lucky as you drive him home, one hand on the wheel and the other- well, on his dick.

You could hear the wetness of him jerking himself off before you saw it. He was keen to get your help though. His eyes were teary and his voice came out a distressed whine as he pleaded for you to help, complaining that his hand wasn’t comparable to how good your hand would feel.

The windows on your shared car are as tinted as legally possible, so you quickly cave and slide your hand toward him. Now 5 minutes away from the house, you quicken your hands in hopes that he’ll cum this soon. But luck isn’t on either of your sides today and the car’s already in park before he’s even close to cumming.

You don’t make it past the entryway before Felix is shoving you forward, pinning you to the wall, and pulling your bottoms to your knees. The sight of your panties all messy and your pussy lips equally as messy from your excitement is enough to make him feral.

“You’re so good to me, Honey. Always so obedient and keeping my pussy ready for me when I most need it. I’m going to give you the world and more.” He doesn’t wait for you to make a comment before he’s pushing your underwear to join your bottoms.

One hand rests on the wall by your face and the other pushes against your lower back, arching your back at the same time that he pushes his cock in. Your walls are warm and wet as they take every last inch of him in, almost as if two puzzle pieces were finally placed together.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and he sucks on your neck, whispering incoherent mumbles until he’s bottomed out. He only stops then to take deep breaths and calm his own body down. Now that he’s finally inside of you, the effects of the pills feel a million times stronger.

He genuinely feels like a dog in heat, hips still rutting into yours even as his mind tells his body to relax. It doesn’t listen in the slightest and after a short pause his hips are finding a rigorous rhythm. 

Felix is a man possessed behind you; nails digging into your skin leaving bruises to come and hips moving with more force than you thought he could give. It’s hard to think he’s not possessed with his filthy mouth, something he’s always been good at but it hits differently when he’s rock hard inside of you and eager to feel every inch of your body all at once.

You start to feel like the pills are affecting you. Your own body reacts to his fervent movements with warm clenches and moans that spur him on. You feel so sensitive and your orgasm sneaks up on you, causing you to wiggle in his hold. The shuffle of your limbs makes him lose his angle and you both whine.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. Stop. You gotta stay arched, baby. Yeah, just like that. Ffuck…” The hand on your back pushes you forward, completely squishing you against the wall as he tries to arch you back to how you previously were. He knows that he did it right when you start to flutter around him again and your moans ascend a few pitches.

With the other hand using all of his fingers to rub your clit back and forth, he pushes you over the edge. You clench around him as you moan into the wall, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up against it. He growls against your ear and bites down on it as he continues fucking you through your high.

He doesn’t stop after you’re done. If anything it only encourages him, the ache in his veins telling him that he needs to keep going and make you feel even better. And so he does, with one hand still furiously rubbing your clit back and forth while the other now moves to your waist and holds up your slouching form.

It just squeezes you appreciatively, almost even possessively as he holds you in place when you start to flail. It doesn’t become mean until in the midst of your thrashing, you move yourself just slightly to the point where he loses his angle again. He pushes his hand roughly against you and arches your back himself again, this time with a disgruntled snap. 

“Stop fucking doing that.” He’s huffing into your ear as his hips pick up pace, going even faster than he was before. “Be good or else I’ll bend you over with nothing to lean on.” But it’s hard to control your body when painful pleasure is swimming through your body. Even more so when you feel another orgasm lurking.

“B-Baby, fuck! Give me a sec, you’re-” You cut yourself off with a shriek as the hand on your waist moves to tangle itself in your hair. It uses the grip to pull you back up to rest your back flat against his chest. His other hand finally falters at this point, instead of rubbing your clit it sinks into your thigh.

“I’m what, Honey. Tearing up your guts?” He laughs out a sound of agreement that turns into a guttural groan as his blinding thrusts finally let up. A few sharp thrusts and a series of moans fall from his lips as he empties himself out inside of you. It feels like gallons of his seed are filling your stomach, and the feeling of it leaking out onto your inner thighs is enough to make you believe that’s the case.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there with his forehead against your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your torso, mind reeling as he comes down from such an intense high.

“Baby. You didn’t cum with me at the end, did you?” He’s more upset that he faltered that badly, but the twitch of his cock lets you both know that he’s not close to being done regardless. The question is a real testament to your faith. Lie to him and maybe bribe him to let you take a break, or tell the truth and deal with the consequences. Though, it doesn’t seem like he was asking.

He pulls out and moves his hand to the small of your back. Neither of you even spared a glance at your bottoms as you’re dragged to the living room and shoved into the couch. It knocks the breath from your lungs momentarily, and it’s all the time he needs to bend you to his will. Your shoulders sink into the bottom cushions and your legs are hovering just above you as he shoves his cock inside of you again. 

The breath is almost knocked from you again as he finds a new, rougher pace to follow. This one isn’t nearly as fast but the new angle, thanks to your ankles being by his ears, sends him right where he wants to be. His previous load froths along his length as he fucks into you like your lives are on the line. 

Your hands find home on his biceps and your nails leave deep crescent shapes along his skin as you desperately try to find something to ground yourself with. The new vigor he fucks you with makes it so that your next orgasm builds up within a minute or two. The feral stare from his lidded eyes only makes your stomach squeeze as you realize that he really has no plans to stop, even if he really wants to. 

“Felix, baby, s-slow down. It feels w-weird.” You push against his stomach in hopes that it will slow him down, but it doesn’t. He stays quiet and only responds by grabbing your wrist and shoving it into the cushion by your head; a wordless command for ‘Hands off.’ You look up just in time to see his gaze grow more intense.

He even leans forward, both of his hands moving to your thighs to fold them into your chest. His hips pick up speed once he has you folded to his liking and you find that strange feeling growing stronger. You get a glimpse of him licking his pink lips that then perk up into a menacing smile and then the feeling grows too strong, forcing your eyes closed and your legs to combat his hold.

Your body can only shake as you gush around him and he curses under his breath at the sight. Your cunt spams around him and you squirt through his merciless fucking. The wet, squelching noises combat the volume of your cries to the point where he periodically goes out of his way to thrust into you even rougher just to hear it more.

“You hear her talking to me? Fucking shit- She really liked that, huh baby?” He laughs in disbelief and slams into you repeatedly, chasing his own sudden orgasm from watching you cum so intensely.

“That was so fucking hot, Baby.” The whine in his voice doesn’t match the cocky look on his face, but you can’t be bothered to comment about it as he finishes inside of you all of a sudden. Your sensitive walls constrict around him yet again and he cums deep inside, riding his own orgasm out to the sound of your overwhelmed sobs.

His chest heaves as he catches his breath and he takes the moment to glance at a clock on the wall. It’s been a few hours since he took the pills so they should be going down soon. He can already feel his brain going back to normal, and his thoughts are clearing up as the two of you sit there unmoving.

“You… Are you ok, Honey?” Your sniffles are enough to make his heart drop into his ass, but when you look up at him the anxiety leaves his body. You smile at him through the tears and laugh as best as you can while still breathless.

“Holy shit, Felix.” He matches your chuckle and leans forward, slotting your legs on either side of his waist as he repeatedly pushes his lips against your cheek. “I’m… great. But you owe me for fucking me within an inch of my life like that with no warning.”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

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[plutotheplum]

Take a Chance with Me

zayne x fem!reader

summary: zayne gets called into work, so you bring him dinner.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, established relationship, smut, fluff, handjob, oral sex, p in v, office sex

wc: 4.4k

a/n: based on one of zayne's text messages! he's so domestic boyfriend core. this is basically just some soft, fluffy smut before i write a dawnbreaker angst fic :3

also on ao3!

Akso Hospital is quieter at night than it is in the day.

You’d been expecting the bustle of nurses and doctors when Zayne had texted you saying he’d been called in on short notice, preparing yourself for some sort of emergency. Thankfully, it didn’t seem that was the case, most likely a pressing surgery that had come up for Zayne.

Sometimes, you wished he’d take more days off. It was a little selfish to want to be wrapped up in Zayne’s arms all the time, but you couldn’t help yourself, the comfort and warmth his body provided was like no other. It was what you had been doing earlier that night, cozied up next to him on the couch, with a fluffy blanket pulled up over you both as he’d spoken to you about one of his past surgeries.

Zayne’s voice had a certain lull to it, the low murmur of his voice making your eyes droop until you’d curled up into his chest, face pressed into his neck and fallen asleep before the takeout you had ordered even arrived. 

Jenna’s missions had kept you on your toes for the entire week, your body exhausted and dazed under the constant stress of fighting Wanderers. Zayne gave you the solace of being able to unwind, although your boyfriend was as stern as ever, he was everything you needed. 

That was until you’d woken up and realized he was gone. Zayne had made sure you were tucked in, a pillow placed under your head comfortably, and your hair brushed away from your face. You’d been disappointed, but the moment you were awake, you couldn’t find it in yourself to go back to sleep, no matter how hard you tried.

It’s why you’re here now, the takeout bag clutched in hand with a couple of paper plates and forks stuffed inside, as you wait patiently for the elevator to drop you off at Zayne’s floor of the hospital.

And of course, I can’t wait to see the person delivering it.

Zayne’s text flashes through your mind, and your grip on the bag of takeout tightens. It wasn’t fair how a simple line of text could make your heart race and your mind swirl with emotion, a sense of yearning taking root within you. 

You spy Yvonne sitting at the front desk and you give her a small wave before approaching her.

“Hi,” Yvonne greets, smiling up at you, “here to see Doctor Zayne?”

You nod in response, holding up the bag of takeout. “He got called in before we could have dinner, so I figured I’d just bring it to him.”

“That’s nice,” Yvonne says, her fingers tapping against the keyboard, “Doctor Zayne finished up his surgery about an hour ago. He’s probably resting in his office.”

“Thank you, Yvonne,” you chirp, giving her smile and another wave before making your way towards Zayne’s office.

It’s tucked away into the corner, his name engraved on the plaque that sits adhered to the surface of the door. The door’s unlocked, but you’re not surprised, he probably left it open for you. Turning the handle, you poke your head in to find Zayne’s head resting on his outstretched arm against his desk.

His eyes are closed, so you step in quietly, trying not to rustle the bag of takeout too much and let the door lock behind you with a quiet click. Zayne remains motionless and you tiptoe towards him, setting the bag down beside his desk. He looks peaceful like this, his lashes kissing his cheeks, face relaxed as his chest rises and falls with every breath.

You’re not quite sure what you did to deserve someone like him. Zayne is sickeningly gentle and even more sickeningly patient with you. He treats you like you’re precious because to him, you are. You’re more precious to him than any award he could be given, more precious to him than the highest praise he could receive from any senior doctor in Linkon and beyond. You’re the only thing that truly matters to him.

Zayne’s devotion runs deep. It soothes your frayed nerves, and has lodged itself inside of you deep within your viscera. Sometimes, you think about clawing out the protocore-embedded heart in your chest and handing it to him. Zayne would take care of it, you’re sure, as he does now. 

He stirs for a moment and you still, slowing your breathing so as to not wake him. Your hand reaches out, brushing his hair out of his eyes, fingers tracing the curve of his cheek. Zayne’s nightmares had gotten less frequent recently and you were thankful for it. He needed the rest. You lean in a little closer, unable to help yourself, letting your lips brush across his cheek in a fleeting kiss.

The hand on your wrist startles you for a moment before you realize Zayne is awake, his head lifting lazily and his eyes blinking open blearily.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice laced with sleep.

“I said I would,” you say softly, cupping his cheek and smoothing your thumb over it. Zayne leans into your touch, letting out a heavy sigh as though some impossible burden were lifted off of his shoulders. You watch as his eyes flutter shut and let him nuzzle into your palm, his lips kissing the inside of your wrist.

Breaking through the relaxed atmosphere, your stomach growls and you flush, cheeks heating up. Zayne lets out a low laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you onto his lap.

“You should’ve eaten,” Zayne says, brushing his hand over your hair.

“I wanted to eat with you,” you mumble, pouting petulantly.

He hums, reaching for the bag of takeout, taking out the plates and forks along with the food. It’s impossible to stop yourself from nosing into his cheek, lips pressing soft kisses along his jaw and across the expanse of his cheek.

“I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few hours since I last saw you,” he muses, tilting his head up to meet your eyes.

“So? I still missed you,” you reply, arms tightening around his neck.

A smile tugs at his lips, a knowing look in his eyes. He presses the fork of food up to your lips and you open your mouth obediently, letting him feed you. Zayne rubs his hand up and down your back from time to time, his lips pressing against your cheek with every bite he feeds you.

You curl into him when he finishes feeding you, letting your face find its way back home into the crook of his neck, carved out just for you. Zayne tightens his arm around your waist, thumb stroking over the curve of your hip every now and then as he eats.

“I love you,” Zayne says quietly, the fork settling against the plastic takeout container.

“I love you too,” you say, trying to press yourself closer into the heat of his body.

It frustrates you, not being able to be as close to him as you want. The sense of it not being enough, despite being flush against him, gnaws at you. Zayne knows this of course, can see the little downward pull of your lips whenever you get like this and try to meld your body against his as though you’re trying to burrow through his clothes and into him. He’d let you, if it was possible, keep you safe behind the curve of his ribs and close to his heart.

He slides his hand into your hair, cupping the back of your head to tilt it upwards. You smile up at him fondly, eyes fluttering shut when he brushes the tip of his nose against yours.

“I love you,” Zayne repeats, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I love you t-”

Your voice is muffled when he slots his lips over yours, drawing you into a slow kiss. It’s sweet, the way he presses his lips to yours in a tentative question as though asking for permission even though he knows you’ll give it to him. Your head tilts, your hand sliding into the softness of his hair, nails scraping against his scalp gently. Zayne shivers and leans into you further, his hand squeezing at your waist.

Longing unfurls in your gut, the slow, syrupy sweetness of his kiss sinking through your flesh and encasing your soul in a warm embrace. You’re shifting on his lap, moving your body so that you straddle him, knees bracketing his hips. Zayne chases after you when you break away, not letting you leave him for long, guiding you into another kiss.

His hands have begun to drift, smoothing up over the skin of your thighs, squeezing at the flesh before sliding under to grab at your ass. You smile against his lips, fingers splaying across his throat before dragging down to hook into the knot of his tie. You tug downwards, loosening his tie from around his neck. 

“We can’t,” he whispers, glancing towards the door.

“I locked it,” you murmur, kissing him softly, “please, Zayne?” Your fingers go further, beginning to unbutton his shirt all the way. “I need you.”

Zayne stares up at you and sees the neediness in your expression, the haze that comes over your face whenever you ask him for his cock. He finds that he can never deny you.

“Okay,” Zayne says quietly, squeezing your arm, “okay, sweetheart.”

You palm him through his trousers, feel him beginning to grow in the confines of his pants. Zayne tries to bite back the noises you elicit from him, but it’s impossible when you look at him like that, your eyes all starry and cheeks flushed. 

“You’re always taking care of me,” you whisper, palming his bulge a little more firmly, “let me take care of you now, Zayne.”

Zayne lets out a shaky breath and you smile, pecking his lips gently. Pulling his belt buckle free, you undo the button to his trousers, dragging the zip down to see his boxers. There’s a dark spot on the fabric and the sight has you licking your lips, grasping his half-hard cock through his boxers.

He lets out a strangled groan, his head falling back against his chair, hips bucking up to chase more of your touch.

“You’re teasing me,” Zayne grits out, his knuckles white with how tightly he’s gripping the armrests of his chair.

“‘m making you feel good,” you correct. 

Your hand pulls his boxers down, and his cock slaps against his abdomen, thick and tip flushed prettily. Zayne’s fully hardened now, the tips of his ears reddening as you wrap your hand around his cock.

“Fuck-” he pants, running his hand through his hair, “d-don’t stop.”

“Not going to,” you whisper, hand tightening around his cock.

Zayne groans again, his thighs falling open a little more. Your other hand cups his heavy balls, massaging them gently, lips finding his again as his pre-cum wets your hand. He kisses you desperately, hips bucking up into your hand. Zayne pushes at the straps of your dress impatiently, pulling it down along with your bra to find your breasts.

“So pretty,” Zayne murmurs, hand splaying across your back to make you arch into him.

He mouths across your collarbone, all the way to your sternum before drifting down to try and stuff the entirety of your breast into his mouth. A breathless laugh leaves you, thumb swiping over the sensitive tip of his cock. Zayne’s thighs jump, his grip on you tightening, tongue alternating between flicking over your nipple and swiping over the whole of your areola.

Spit drips from his mouth, a thin strand connecting his glistening lips to your hardened nipple. You catch it with your thumb, feeding it to him, letting him suck your thumb into his mouth. He moans around it and you whine, cunt clenching at the feeling of his warm mouth over your skin. It has you feeling debauched, your own mouth opening to let a glob of spit drip down and onto his cock. Zayne’s cock twitches and he presses himself against you, his face tucking into the crook of your neck as he pants.

“Sweetheart,” he grunts, his cock fucking into your hand, “you feel so good.”

You mewl in agreement, hand slipping into his hair again. Zayne lets out a low whine, his eyes fluttering shut as he curls his own hand around yours, tightening your grip. You move your hand faster, swipe your thumb over his fat, leaking tip more frequently and tug at his hair to tilt his head and kiss him.

“You’re throbbing,” you whisper, lips brushing over his with every word.

“You tend to have that effect on me,” he replies hoarsely.

His cock throbs almost on cue, another glob of pre-cum spilling down the side of his length. You squeeze your hand tighter, dragging it upwards to see more pre-cum spilling out of him the tighter you squeeze. Zayne sounds utterly gone, mouthing at your chest to distract himself, lips wrapping around your other breast this time. 

He stares up at you, amber-green eyes shining in the light as his mouth stays enveloped around the fat of your breast. You bite your lip, giving him a dazed smile and lowering your head to nudge your nose against his. Zayne forgets about your breast, tilts his head up to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Cum for me, Zayne,” you whisper sweetly, kissing the tip of his nose, “wanna see you cum.”

Zayne moans unabashedly, his heart fluttering at your words. His hips buck up one last time before he cums, squeezing at your sides roughly as his forehead falls against your shoulder. Hot, thick cum smears across your hands and you hum happily, giving his cock one last teasing pump. Zayne shudders at the sensation, grunting softly as he catches your wrist to stop you from playing with his sensitive cock.

“You made a mess, Doctor Zayne.”

He huffs out a laugh, leaning back in his chair. You stay perched on his lap, watching as his cock softens. Zayne takes your hand before you can lick his cum off of your palm, his handkerchief swiping over your sullied palm and fingers, cleaning your skin.

Zayne kisses you again, squishes your cheeks to make your lips pucker out for a moment and smiles at the sight. You frown when he moves you off of him only to realize that he’s standing up as well, pushing your shoulders gently to make you sit down on his chair.

He sinks to his knees and you bite your lip, body taut with anticipation. Zayne pulls your socks off, his thumbs pressing into the arch of your right foot. You sigh at the sensation, eyes slipping shut.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, placing a reverent kiss to your ankle.

Your heart lurches, lips trembling as he caresses your calf. Zayne kisses up the length of your leg, up your shin and past your knee, his fingers squeezing at your flesh. He drags his lips across your inner thigh, landing soft kisses to your skin. His scarred hands graze over your panties, knuckles pressing against your swollen clit for a moment before he kisses your panty-clad pussy. 

Zayne repeats the same sequence of actions for your other leg as though he were worshiping you. A part of you wants to cry at his display of affection. There’s a lump in your throat with how nicely he’s treating you, but you swallow it down, losing yourself in the fond gaze he gives you.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper, fingers running through his hair.

“I’m not,” he replies, kissing your pussy again, “I just love you.”

You swallow harshly and Zayne smiles, his fingers pulling down your panties. He thumbs apart your folds and lets out a shuddering breath when he realizes how wet you are. 

“All for me,” he murmurs, watching the clench of your pussy around nothing, “you’re all mine.”

You whine in agreement, back arching as he licks over your cunt. Zayne kisses your clit and buries his face into your pussy, licking and sucking without abandon. You can barely stay on the chair with how much you’re squirming and writhing under his mouth. Zayne winds his arms around your thighs and holds you in place, his mouth making lewd noises as he makes out with your pussy until your cries grow louder.

You hope his office is soundproof, but when Zayne sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth, you lose any sense of where you are, letting out pitchy, shuddering gasps as your feet press up onto your toes, digging into his back. 

“Zayne!” you cry, tugging at his hair roughly. He groans into your pussy, enjoying the sting of pain across his scalp. He buries his face deeper, kissing and licking until your pussy is puffy and slick is pouring out of you uncontrollably. “N-nghhh- no, Zayne. You- you have to fuck me!”

“Okay,” he rasps, pulling back when you tug at his hair, “up, my love, get up.” He taps your thighs and you stand up on shaky legs, pulling him closer by his tie to kiss him.

Zayne kisses you as you paw at his broad shoulders, pushing his shirt off to grasp at his muscled arms and back. He squeezes your waist, kneads the fat at your hips before he’s spinning you and bending you over his desk.

Your dress is flipped up, a squeak escaping your lips when he brings his hand down, slapping your ass. A giggle makes its way out of you and you rise up on the tips of your toes, wiggling your hips and ass for him playfully.

Zayne groans at the sight and slaps your ass again. His fingers spread apart your asscheeks, his eyes feasting on the sight of your glistening, puffy pussy again. You cry out when you feel him shove his face back into your pussy, licking over you messily and without abandon until you reach back and push at his head weakly.

You let your hips sway back and Zayne grasps his cock, pressing it against your greedy cunt. He curses as your pussy sucks him in, his hand balling up the fabric of your dress into one hand, keeping you spread as he watches you take his cock, inch after inch.

You let out a strangled gasp, the air being punched out of your lungs as he fills you up. Zayne is big and thick, his cock splitting you open, forcing your pussy to take him, carving the shape of his length inside of you. Your nails dig into his desk and neither of you seem to care as a few patient files slip off of the edge of the desk, the paper fluttering to the ground.

“Always so tight,” he hisses out, his hand curling over your hip, “such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

Your head falls against the wood of his desk, teeth sinking into your knuckles as you try to muffle your noises. Zayne notices and lets out a tsk, his arm reaching for yours and bringing it behind your back.

“None of that,” Zayne chastises, “I want to hear you, my love.”

He does hear you when he presses your lower back down, his hips thrusting forward. You cry out, moaning and mewling as his cock sinks into you repeatedly. Zayne drapes himself over your back, kissing up your spine and landing a soft kiss to your shoulder, hips humping into your ass. The squelch of your cunt should be embarrassing, but it happens whenever Zayne fucks you now, you get so horribly wet whenever you see his cock and he touches you.

You turn your head back to kiss him and Zayne groans into your mouth, licking into your mouth before he’s moving back to fuck you properly. Your knees would buckle if you weren’t bent over the desk. His name plate inches closer to the edge of the desk with every thrust Zayne delivers to your pussy.

Zayne pants and grunts; you look back to find his face flushed, his eyes closed and brows drawn together tightly. He looks handsome, face twisted with pleasure and want; unadulterated passion.

“Zayne- o-oh yes-” you whimper when he pins you down, his hands grasping your hips roughly.

He ups his pace, the desk rattling, his belongings hitting the floor. Each snap of his hips leaves you reeling and you’re sure you’re seeing stars in the darkness of your closed eyes. 

“Good girl,” he groans, unable to stop himself from landing another slap to your ass, “my good girl- fuck- I love you so, so much, sweetheart.”

You’re practically sobbing, walls clenching around his cock so tightly that he’s cupping your jaw and drawing you up so that your back is flush against his chest. Zayne bends his knees and fucks up into you. Your nails scrape against his arm, head falling against his shoulder as his hand slips down to rub your clit.

“Take it,” Zayne whispers, nipping your earlobe, “take it, baby.”

His calloused fingers on your clit too much and your body is seizing up, the coil of pleasure inside of you snapping until you moan loudly, his hand slapping over your mouth when the beginnings of a squeal make its way out of you with how oversensitive you are. 

Your body shudders as you cum, and you try to push his hand away from his clit but he sinks his teeth into your shoulder in warning, rubbing tight circles until he cums, his low grunts filling your ear as his hips slow into a stuttering mess. Zayne bends you over the desk again, shuffles forward until his hips are flush against your ass, balls pressed against your clit, his cock stuffed inside your pussy snugly.

“I love you,” you whine, feeling his hot cum fill you up.

“I- I shit-” Zayne gasps, thrusting his hips forward a few more times as he feels your walls clenching around him tightly, milking every drop of thick cum from him, “Hah- I l-love you too,” he stammers, slumping over you.

You mewl under his weight, his softening cock slipping out of you. Zayne’s cum mixed with your arousal drips down your thighs, smearing against your skin. He lifts himself up after a few moments of panting, using his desk for support. You turn around, rising up on shaky legs and even shakier toes to cup his cheeks and kiss him.

Zayne wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. He deepens the kiss, lowers his head for you so that you can sink down flat onto your feet again. Your tongue tangles with his, hands stroking over his hair soothingly as you give yourself to him, body and soul.

You can feel his smile against your lips, the drag of his lips across your cheek and the side of your head to press several kisses to your forehead.

“I hope your office is soundproof, Doctor Zayne,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle and letting your chin rest on his chest.

“I hope so too,” Zayne says, flushing lightly.

You laugh, kissing the underside of his jaw. You help him pull his shirt on again, buttoning up the front of it and tighten his tie again. Zayne wipes the insides of your thighs with a few tissues, discarding them in the bin beside his desk, helping pull up your panties over your hips.

He fixes the straps of your dress, fingers brushing over your shoulders gently and the place where his teeth had sunk into you.

“Take the day off tomorrow,” you say to him as you help gather the patient files that had fallen off of his desk.

“You know I can’t,” he sighs, shaking his head.

You pout, widening your eyes and batting your eyelashes up at him in an attempt to give him the most pleading look you can muster.

“Please?” you say, sidling up to him again, “you’re overworked, Zayne. Take the day off, hm? We can relax together.”

Zayne stares down at you, his lips pursing for a moment. It never takes much convincing. As soon as the words are out of your mouth, he feels compelled to listen.

“You’re a terrible influence, sweetheart.”

You smile up at him giddily, wrapping your arms around his neck. “‘m just taking care of my lovely, handsome, perfect boyfriend.”

“Fattening up my ego, huh?” Zayne asks, dipping his head to steal a kiss from you.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your voice softens slightly. “I- I do mean those things, Zayne.”

Zayne falters at the hint of vulnerability in your voice. He can see that you’re shy about it with the way your eyes dart away from his, you always have been whenever confessing your more heart-felt feelings. 

“If you insist,” he says quietly, trapping your chin between his fingers to bring your eyes to meet his again. “But I think you’re the perfect one.”

You flush at his compliment, swatting his chest. He laughs, grabbing your fist to press a firm kiss to your knuckles. Zayne’s laugh fades when he stares at your hand, his brows furrowing for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your own brows furrowing as you stare at your bare hand. There’s nothing on it, nothing of concern anyways.

“Ah,” Zayne clears his throat, giving you a smile, “it’s nothing.”

It’s strange. He can’t help but think your left hand looks oddly bereft in the light. 

Zayne thinks a ring would fix the problem. 

He dips his head, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips as he takes your hand, leading you out of his office, letting Yvonne know that he wouldn’t be available tomorrow.

Zayne drives you home, despite your insistence that you could drive instead, his head shaking sternly as he’d ushered you into the passenger’s side. You’re curled up in bed with him, blankets pulled up over both you, the heat cocooning you in. 

“Despite your Evol, you’re so warm,” you mumble drowsily, face pressed into his chest.

“That may be because of the blankets,” Zayne says, amused.

You scoff, but you don’t have it in you to come up with some witty remark, instead letting him play with your hair.

“I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow,” you slur, body relaxing further when he scratches your scalp gently.

“I want to spend the morning in bed with you,” he whispers, watching as your eyelids slip shut.

It’s only half the truth. Zayne does want to spend the morning in bed with you, but he also wants something… more.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You’re asleep when he whispers the words, his lips brushing your forehead.

It doesn’t matter. 

You’ll hear them properly when he gets down on one knee.

[chosok-amo]

TILL FOREVER FALLS APART

when you first joined jujutsu high, you probably never imagined being in relationships with two of the strongest special grade sorcerers. yet here you are, destined to spend the rest of your life with them. did you complain about it? absolutely not. this is simply the story of your life being in relationships with geto suguru and gojo satoru.

warning : age-up! satosugu, spoiled! fem reader, fluff, heavy / light angst, dark content, trauma mentioned, unprotected sex, threesome, overstimulated, suggestive, oral sex ( m & f receiving ), dirty talk, degrading, name-calling, pet names, poly relationship, anxiety, lots more.

[☆] : NSFW | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

🖇️ YOU WILL BE BLOCKED! IF YOU'RE SPAMMING LIKE WITHOUT REBLOGGING!

☆ PRE RELATIONSHIP :

GENTLE LOVE

“loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

COLD ICE POPSICLE! ( ☆ )

satoru gojo, suguru geto, you and your friends sit in the back of the school building, smoking and talking, joint in hands. it was summer and heat waves swimming around freely, you eating some ice cream, licking and slurping while your eyes focus on your two friends, who knows that might not be the only thing you lick that day.

YOU WILL GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS THE WORLDS BIGGEST IDIOT

the first time you meet your senior, and you think they are the weirdest and most idiots person you've ever met, especially that special-albino looking kid, gojo satoru.

FALL APART? NAH, JUST MENTAL BREAKDOWN

gojo found you training in the middle of the night only for you to have a mental breakdown in front of him. so he brings you to geto's dorm room to calm you down, also for gojo to find behind geto's action on why he is so gentle with you.

☆ IN RELATIONSHIPS :

THE ONE WITH TWINS BOYFRIENDS

dating gojo and geto is always fun and games, but you know what's the most fun thing you could do with having two boyfriends? dressing them up like twins.

STARS AROUND SCARS

you were just trying to draw some stars on your boyfriend, not knowing simple things could be so hard when you have two needy boyfriends.

ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID NEVER THE BRIDE (01) , (02) , (02.1)

the downfall of your relationship after suguru's moral compass went south.

THE ONE WITH THE PRANK

living with you is all fun and games. . . until you start pulling all of these harmless pranks on them.

CAN YOU HANDLE IT, BABY? ( ☆ )

you are sitting there in the living room, drowning under the tongue-tied make-out sessions before your other boyfriends walk in, happily watching the two of you while touching himself.

GOOD GIRL GO TO HEAVEN ( ☆ )

after a long day of assembling a lot of furniture and decorating your new house, they decided they want to test drive the new bed with you.

HUNTER GOJO

you and your two boyfriends just moved in together and decided to go shopping for some furniture and other stuff, and gojo satoru? he has another purpose: hunting for a perfect bed for sex and humiliated you. [ soon ]

TUTORIAL : HOW TO GET IGNORE BY YOUR GIRLFRIEND BECAUSE YOU'RE PISSING HER OFF WHEN SHE'S ON HER PERIOD BY GOJO SATORU.

you are on your second day of your period. your mood is bad, your stomach is killing you, and your boyfriend? he's an asshole who can't stop teasing you and makes you cry. [soon]

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS

it's been years since the hidden inventory incident, you and your two boyfriends already graduate and are working for jujutsu. . . but nobody knows your struggling, nobody knows how you're the only one who's stuck in 2006 while everybody moves on, not even your boyfriends, and when they do, it's already too late.

ONE TOO MANY

the first time you have an argument with your two boyfriends is because they've been ignoring you for weeks, so you return the favor.

SHUT UP, STOP IT! ( ☆ )

there is nothing better than make-up sex after you and your two lovely boyfriends, having an argument.

PAIN, SUFFERING AND JESUS

feeling like shit? feeling nauseous? you are having a fever? don't worry, your two amazing boyfriends are ready to take care of you!

HYPOTHETICALLY, UPS?!

you chuckle softly, your eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “hypothetically, you should propose to me properly,” you tease, enjoying the light-heartedness of the moment.

YOU AND YOUR INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS? 100 TIMES NEED A THERAPIST!

you and all of your disturbing intrusive thoughts definitely need a therapist because it scared the shit out of them.

IDIOTS AND SEAWEED

your two boyfriends got too protective over you, so what's better than to give them a little bit of seaweed and salt water?

HELP ME MAN!

you, their little girlfriend, scared the shit out of your boyfriends. they don't know why, how, them, the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the modern world are scared of their girlfriend.

HIS TIP? IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY TIP!

you just got your nails done, and geto is the one who paid for it. so as your way to appreciate his gesture you decided to get your nails color with the same color of his tip, which results in gojo's relentless jealousy.

NOT FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES

do you know what tea could affect your relationship? making you have an argument with your boyfriends because you thought they were overprotective and overbearing.

FIVE AND ONE DIFFERENT WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU

your boyfriends are perfect in every sense, flawless in the ways that matter. they possess every one of the five love languages and master each one effortlessly. whether it’s the tender touch of reassurance, words that lift you higher, gifts that show how much they care, acts of service that make your life smoother, or simply being there when you need them, they never fail to make you feel cherished.

SCARS TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL

all scars and everything, you are still the most beautiful girl to your boyfriends. and they will always remind you, every single day until they leave no room for you to feel insecure.

SUGURUUUU, DO SOMETHING!

you and gojo are insufferable, especially when gojo decides he wants to be annoying and tries to get under your skin. you always come running to geto and telling him to do something about gojo.

( COMING SOON! )

[ TAGLIST ] : OPEN

@junni-berry @fortunatelyfurrygiver @soraya-daydreams @diorzs @dancing--devils @iloveboysinred @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @cupcaketeddybehr @crocodilethesir @lemonnotade

[moonlight-prose]

HEART MADE OF GLASS

a/n: this is totally not to make myself feel better. totally not self indulgent cause i couldn't finish cooking my dinner last night. that gif is also self indulgent. but also hopefully a distraction from how angsty this kind of is. divider as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

word count: 1.1k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, disassociating, depression isn't outright stated but that's what it is, meat eating (sorry i'm an iron anemic bitch), logan's love language being acts of service.

The fire alarm never went off when you were in the kitchen. So he felt his heart jump at the sound of it blaring through the small apartment. Even down the hall and in the bathroom he smelled the bitter smoke as it rose from the pan you were currently staring at. A blank expression on your face and hand gripping the handle.

He meant to grab his flannel and join you for dinner. What he didn't expect was the emptiness of a silent kitchen not filled with your usual music. Your soft hums as you try to keep in tune with the song.

Logan's favorite pastime was standing in the doorway watching you cook whatever creation came to mind. Whether it tasted good or positively vile, he'd eat it one way or another. He'd swallow happily with a grin simply to see that smile bloom across your face. A look he did everything possible to keep right where it was meant to be.

"Bub?"

You startled, flinching at the sound of the alarm as you shoved the pan away from the burner. "Shit. Sorry."

A frown etched onto his face at your quick apology—your eyes never quite meeting him. "Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah," you said, lying right through your teeth. "I just got distracted."

Logan could hear the bullshit louder than the alarm. He knew something was wrong, because he'd seen it before. The silence that filled a once loud household. How you slowed down during the day, unable to finish simple tasks without pushing yourself over the edge. He watched you dwindle down to the barest bones your body had to offer and yet you never asked him for help.

You never explained why it occurred.

This wasn't in part because you didn't want to. You did. You simply held no real reason for why your body—your mind—chose to betray you at the oddest of times. At first you figured it was the lack of sleep. The restlessness that ate away at your body each night—keeping you up and active until finally you wore yourself out.

But this wasn't that.

This came from deep inside your chest, lingering beneath the surface—waiting for something good to happen before it struck with a vengeance. This protruded out of your very nightmares.

"Need some help?" He knew the answer before it came. No.

What could he possibly do that you hadn't tried a million times over? There was no easy fix for something this brutal. Silently, you begged him to leave the kitchen and find something else to occupy his time. He stubbornly stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you dumped the now burned pan in the sink. What might have been a delicious steak now looked like a charred brick.

The sight of it still smoking only seemed to dampen your mood further.

You fought to keep yourself there, in the moment. But the dazed expression from earlier began to slowly trail its way back up your face. Until you could do nothing but stare at the mess you made, exhaustion slicing down to your bones.

His looming presence became an afterthought to all that filtered through your head. All the brittle and vile thoughts you tried to keep at bay. Some days they managed to weasel their way past your infinite walls. Some days...they found joy in tearing you up inside little by little.

Voicing it aloud though would never be an option to the havoc you tried to tame.

"C'mon," he muttered, his hands pulling at your hips to move you. "Out of the kitchen."

"I can finish–"

His glare was devastating.

Most of the time you'd ask him to tell you what he was thinking. Tonight you understood his demand. Get out of the kitchen before you hurt yourself. Let him do what you often did for everyone else.

Give him the chance to put you first.

He points to the chair originally pulled out for him. "Sit down."

But unlike other people he encountered, you were far more stubborn. "I don't–"

"Sit on the chair bub. Or I'll tie you to it." The grin he gives you is filled with sarcasm, but you can see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn't hesitate to follow through on a promise like that. He wouldn't even blink. "Your choice."

There was no argument left to throw at him, because his attention was elsewhere. So you sat. You allowed yourself to rest as he stumbled his way through the kitchen. Logan couldn't really cook. He picked up what he could through the life he lived, but nothing came out exactly perfect. That wasn't what warmed your heart at the sight of him standing there intent on delivering a meal worth eating.

He didn't shy away when you tried to push. When the horror that you needed someone to help was no longer a fact you could ignore. No matter how hard you shoved and bit and did what you could to scare him off. Logan pushed back. He quelled your bite with a stature of resolute stoicism.

With an exhale, he flipped the burner off and slid whatever he'd made onto a clean plate. Watching him move felt as if you were being placed in a trance. You almost told him that once in your first week of dating. Something told you he already knew by the way your eyes tracked him from the kitchen to the table.

"Steak," he said, sitting with a grunt.

A quick glance told you one thing. Logan didn't know shit about cooking steak.

You grinned nonetheless.

"There's..." Red spilled down the side, pooling on the plate as steam hit your face. "How long did you cook it?"

He shrugged, slicing it with ease and plopping a piece into his mouth. "Tastes fine to me."

"I'm sure it does."

"Watch it bub," he muttered mid chew, his lips curled into a smirk.

Making a show of zipping your lips shut, you took the piece he offered you. And as he did each time before, you ate it with a grin simply to watch his smirk turn into a smile. There may have been no salt, no extra flavor, and strangely a charred sensation with each bite. But you could taste the love spreading across your tongue with ease.

"Delicious," you garbled in the hopes he'd understand how much you loved him.

He snorted, shoving the plate to the center of the table. His thumb swiped at the juice that leaked from the corner of your mouth, causing your heart to jump erratically in your chest. Even on your bad days he managed to flip the switch in your mind with simple touches and soft looks.

"'M gonna order a pizza."

Leaning into his hand, you pressed a kiss to his wrist. "Thank you."

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 

Or to you. 

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 

Sunghoon cries again. 

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t.” 

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 

“What?” 

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

You don’t respond. 

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 

“The longest of my life.” 

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[cutieln4]

Fuck It I Love You | LN4

lando norris x reader, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

summary: lando and y/n seem to absolutely hate each other until a dangerous situation reveals the truth

warnings: drink spiking, threats of sexual assault (nothing graphic, someone tries to take her home)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For some reason, Lando and her never got along. It stemmed from when they were karting together, all the way until they both got to Formula 1.

Now, at ages 21 and 23, they drove for rival teams and were always going wheel to wheel.

Monza wasn't any different.

Max and Charles were far in front, but she and Lando were fighting over the last podium place. They were switching back and forth until on the last lap, she maybe pushed him a bit too far on one of the last corners, securing 3rd place.

He approached her when she was making her way back from the post-race press conference, on her way to the media pen.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded.

She shrugged, smirking. "Not quite sure what you're talking about."

"Oh don't play dumb. That was dirty racing on the last lap and you know it."

"I don't see how it's any different from what you did to me in Austria, or last year at Silverstone."

She could see his jaw clench, and she knew she got him.

"Maybe keep your talking on the track," she told him before he could reply, walking away.

That night she was at the club celebrating with a couple of the other drivers. She was pretty close with Max, Charles, Oscar, and Daniel. It made things a bit awkward with them when she and Lando were really going at it because they were all good friends with Lando too. But whatever, it was mostly fine.

She had been dancing and throwing back drinks until she forgot about her and Lando's feud. She's also pretty sure the other drivers got some embarrassing videos of her. Her current drink was eventually empty and she stumbled away to the bar, not telling anyone.

She waved the bartender over to ask for another drink, tipping them $20. If it weren't for the alcohol in her system, she would've flinched when a man suddenly appeared at her side. It was crowded by the bar, and he was pressing right against her.

"Hey baby, let me buy you a drink."

"That's alright, I already have one," she politely declined, hoping he would just leave her alone.

"Oh come on, don't be like that honey."

She twisted her neck around to try to spot the other drivers and when she did, she grabbed her drink and left. The man luckily didn't follow.

Halfway through her drink, she started noticing that something was wrong. Her head was spinning way more than it should be, she was sweating like crazy, nauseous, and her body felt heavy.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she slurred out to Max before stumbling away.

She didn't make it far before she was grabbing onto the wall to keep herself up. She knew at the moment that something was terribly wrong. She most likely had her drink spiked, and now she was separated from her group and incapacitated.

A hand grabbed her arm and she looked up. Her vision was too blurry to make out any features, but she knew it wasn't one of the drivers.

"You okay, babe? Let me help you."

"N-No, m' good, leav' me 'lone."

She tried to escape his grip, but she could barely move, her strength was completely gone. The man wrapped his whole arm around her waist, supporting her as he walked her out of the club while she tried to protest.

The cold, fresh air felt good when it hit her, but then she remembered what situation she was in. The man was dragging her along more roughly now.

"Stop, 'lease, I don' wanna go with you," her pleading sounded more and more like pathetic whimpers falling on unheard ears.

He just kept walking down the street, gripping her so hard there'd probably be bruises.

"Don't, please, leave me 'lone," she whined, eyes welling up with tears as she tried to escape his grip again.

He suddenly shoved her face-first into a building, rough concrete scraping her arms and face, and she fell to the ground.

"Shut up and don't move!" he hissed.

He yanked her back up and dragged her along.

"No, no, please, stop," she cried, nearly sobbing. She was scared, she couldn't feel anything, and she was completely separated from anyone she knew while some strange man was leading her somewhere.

"Hey!" another voice suddenly yelled, about 5 meters behind them. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Whoever this person was, they sounded pissed.

"Nothing man, mind your business," the man next to her said.

"No, I won't mind my fucking business. Let go of her before I smash your face in."

The man scoffed, trying to continue walking.

"I warned you," the other man said before suddenly she fell to the ground and she heard a thud of skin-on-skin contact, before a groan.

She was on the ground, leaning her back against the wall while her head drooped to the side. She couldn't see much, but she could hear the punching continue.

"Stop, stop, man, I'm sorry!"

"Oh yeah? Did you listen to her when she asked you to stop?"

Eventually, it went quiet, and there were footsteps in her direction. The man who saved her crouched down in front of her and put his hands on her cheeks, supporting her head. It was then that her vision cleared up a bit, and she realized who the person was.

"Lando?" she asked, voice slurring.

"Yeah, it's me. I got you."

She started sobbing, trembling hands gripping his jacket as he wrapped her in a hug, letting her cry into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe now," he whispered to her as he rubbed her back.

"I-I was so, so scared," she cried.

"I know, I know. I got you."

Lando then used one hand to fish out his phone, calling the police. They waited while the police showed up, him trying to keep her awake.

When the police arrived, one of the officers arrested the unconscious man on the ground while the other rode with them in the ambulance to take their statements. Y/n never let go of Lando's hand once.

The hospital kept her overnight for observation after making sure whatever drug she was spiked with wasn't lethal, and collecting evidence and taking pictures of her injuries. She had finally given in to unconsciousness, and Lando was sitting next to her, holding her hand.

It was only when everything was a little settled down that he saw that she had nearly 100 missed calls from various drivers. Shit, he forgot about that.

He opened up his phone and called Daniel.

"Hey, man I can't talk right now," Daniel said right away, sounding panicked.

"Hold on—"

"Actually, do you by chance know where Y/n is?"

"Yeah, about that, I'm in the hospital—"

"What? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Can you let me finish my sentence? I'm with Y/n. She was drugged and I saw her on the street. Some man was dragging her with him, and she was clearly asking him to leave her alone. Anyway, she's a little banged up, but she's okay, nothing happened. They're just keeping her overnight for observation."

Daniel let out a big sigh of relief, said something to someone next to him, and then turned back to the phone.

"Thank fuck, we've been trying to find her for hours. Thank you, Lando, seriously. I can't imagine if you hadn't been there. What hospital is she at?"

After telling him where they were, he hung up. 

Lando sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as he reflected on what the hell just happened. 

Y/n shifted in front of him, and he immediately sat up straight. 

"Lando?" she mumbled, voice hoarse and still half-asleep. 

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here. Do you remember what happened?"

She paused, but then her face crumpled, and she nodded. 

"It's okay, it's okay, don't cry," he soothed. 

"You saved me. I thought you would've just let him take me."

Lando's eyebrows furrowed, stomach twisting just at the thought.

"Why would you think that?"

"You hate me," she muttered, eyes looking down. 

"I don't," he paused, hesitating. "I don't hate you at all. I...I didn't plan on ever telling you this, but I really like you. You're funny, you're witty, you're kind, you're fearless, you never back down from a challenge, and I love all those things about you. And I know you probably want nothing to do with me and you hate my guts, but I just need to get it off my chest―"

"―Lando, just shut up and kiss me. I like you too, idiot."

Lando grinned, showing the gap between his front two teeth that she always loved, and leaned down to connect their lips. 

"Do you think people would get suspicious if we stopped being mean to each other?" he asked.

"Probably. We should just hard launch."

"I don't think our PR teams would appreciate that."

Later, when Daniel made it to the hospital, he was extremely surprised to see the two of them cuddled up together. He just had to take a picture.

[really-fanny-longbottom]

only in my dreams [part two]

summary: you turned off your emotions so you could protect your heart but at what price?

warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, curse words, blood and death.

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 8.5k

Morning was here. 

You left Emerie's house when the first rays of sunlight passed through the half-open bedroom window. 

Your friends were still sound asleep when you pushed away their arms that tried to offer you some comfort during the night and got out of bed. 

You had no intention in waiting for them to wake up and having to talk about what had happened just a few hours ago. 

So you quickly changed your clothes and placed the backpack you had brought with you over your left shoulder.  

You didn't bother looking back when you left the room.

The front door closed behind you, and you found yourself facing the sun that was almost reaching its usual place in the blue sky. 

Sunrise has always been your favorite part of the day.  

Not only for the view, but also for its meaning - every time the sun rises, a new day comes with it, a new day that seems like a new blank page giving you a new opportunity to do your best and let go of the past on the day that was left behind. 

Besides, being a healer meant that your day always started early, so why not start it with the best view ever?

When you lived with your aunt Madja, you would go to the bridge over the Sidra and sit on the wall and when you moved to the House of the Wind you would go to your balcony and do the same.

You would close your eyes and tilt your head slightly upwards and immediately relax with the sunlight passing through your body and warming not only your skin but also your soul.

You don't know if it was because you're an empath but you've always felt a connection with the sun, as if you could feel its energy, it was as if the sun itself had emotions and was trying to communicate with you.

You loved how it made you feel.

But that was before.

Now, standing in the doorway of Emerie's house, as you looked at it, you didn't know what to do.

You stayed there for a few moments waiting for something to happen - for you to feel something.

But nothing came.

With a shrug of your shoulders, you turned your back on what used to be your greatest comfort and step by step you began to move away from it and the house.

As you walked, you didn't notice that the camp was starting to wake up, just as you didn't notice the sunlight fading away.

You winnowed as soon as you reached the edge of the camp.

-

Twenty minutes later, you were in Velaris about to arrive at your aunt's house to take a much-needed shower.

As you walked up the street, you didn't pay attention to any of the citizens who were opening their establishments and getting ready for a new day of work.

Some of them tried to get your attention to greet you just like they always did. You would look at them with your eyes full of color and wave greetings with a warm smile, sometimes you would even stop and talk to some of them.

But not anymore.

Now, you simply walked with an expression of indifference without removing your empty eyes from the path ahead.

You only stopped when an all too familiar voice filled the air around you - the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. "Y/N."

You could already see your aunt's house from here, and you were so close to getting there. 

Slowly, you turned around and faced the person who had stopped you from reaching your destination.

It was the wife of the patient you lost yesterday with one of their sons by her side, both wearing mourning clothes.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I saw you passing by, and I just wanted to thank you again for what you did for my husband yesterday." She told you with a weak voice, her eyes still red.

With a fake smile on your features, you ran a hand through your hair before telling her, "I was just doing my job. After all, that's what I'm paid for."

Surprised by your reaction, the female lost her words and after a few seconds to compose herself, she cleared her throat and said "Well, the funeral is this afternoon at three o'clock if you want to join us."

You laughed, and without a care in the world, you responded, "No, thank you. I have better things to do but have fun."

And with that, you turned your back on them and walked up the rest of the street before removing the small key from your backpack and entering your aunt's house.

The wife and son remained in their places, trying to understand what had just happened. 

-

After placing your backpack on the sofa, you started heading to the stairs towards the bathroom, but before you could, an irritated voice stopped you in your tracks. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, for Cauldron's sake," you muttered and turned to find Madja with her arms crossed and an angry face.

"I was with the Valkyries. I spent the night at Emerie's." You told her with a tone of annoyance.

"I'm aware of that. The High Lord had the decency to send me a letter unlike you," Madja scolded before continuing, her voice turning softer. "He also told me what happened about Azriel." 

When she opened her mouth to speak again, you raised a hand and stopped her from it, "Okay, auntie, it's too early for this. I'm going to take a shower and I'll see you at the clinic. Okay. Cool."

You used both hands to give the cool sign, but before you could step on the stairs, Madja called you again. "Wait."

"Ugh, you gotta be kidding me," you whispered low enough for her not to hear.

You saw your aunt grab a piece of parchment and hand it to you. "This arrived for you a few minutes ago." 

When you unrolled it, you recognized Nesta's handwriting. 

She was asking where you were. 

Without hesitation, you crumpled the paper and threw it into the middle of the fireplace where it instantly began to burn.

"Anything else?"

When your aunt didn't speak, you accepted her silence as an answer and started climbing the stairs by jumping two steps at a time. 

The bathroom door closed seconds later, and Madja, who didn't know what animal had bitten you to react like that, put a hand to her forehead before muttering to herself, "What was that?"  

-

The clinic was very busy like almost every day but you never complained.

Unlike other people, you could happily say that you liked your work. Being a healer has always been a rewarding job. 

There was nothing else you enjoyed as much as helping your patients. Heal them, make them feel safe, and heard. Make them feel important.

Your favorite days were the days you helped a new life enter this world. Seeing those beings so small and innocent was the best miracle of life.  

But of course, like all jobs, yours also had a bad side. 

Seeing your patients sick and knowing that in some cases there is nothing you can do to help, seeing them leave this life and the family they leave behind. 

There were patients who had left such an impact on you that from time to time, they appeared in your dreams. 

Sometimes, you felt guilty at their memory because you felt like you could have done more, but most of the time, their memories reminded you to do better for others.  

But none of that mattered to you anymore. Now you simply limited yourself to doing your job so you could get paid. 

You were finishing bandaging the knee of a boy who had tripped while running.

The boy had become a regular patient of yours, always finding a way to hurt himself, whether it is running or reading a book.

It was a simple wound that didn't require the use of your powers, so you cleaned, disinfected, and put a bandage on it.

Your right hand held his injured leg while the other tried to wrap the bandage, when you finished and lowered his leg, you noticed that he had a bruise in the exact place where your hand had been just seconds before.

With your focus on the wound, you hadn't even noticed the bruise. You went behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of ointment that you had made last weekend and handed it to the boy.

"Take this," you pointed to the bruise that had several shades of purple on his leg, "twice a day, one in the morning and one at night. If it starts to hurt, put some ice on it."

Following the movement of your hand, the boy saw the bruise for the first time with a confused face "Oh, I didn't even know I had that," he grabbed the bottle and with a toothless smile, he started heading towards the door but not without shouting first "Thank you Y/N! I'll see you next week." 

"Whatever" you let out a sigh and walked towards your chair to take a break but before you could your aunt directed you to the next patient. 

It was an old male who mixed up the plants in his garden and ended up using the wrong plant as a seasoning for his food.

He was slightly pale, nauseous, and had stomach pain.

"You mistake a poisonous plant for a seasoning plant?" You asked as you examined him, judgment written all over your face and voice.

"Yes, I know what it looks like," he explained between short breaths, "but it was an honest mistake."

"It was a stupid mistake." You answered him without hesitation.

You were too busy finishing your exam to notice Madja's shocked expression, who had stopped what she was doing at the sound of your words.

"Y/N!" She approached and scolded you. "You can't talk to patients like that."

"Why? It's true. It's not my fault he's an idiot." You told her with frightening indifference.

At your response, your aunt put her hands to her head with a whisper of "By the Mother," escaping between her lips.

She got closer to the patient and placed one hand on his arm before bringing the other to her chest and apologizing to him for your behavior.

The male, on the other hand, said, "It's okay, she happens to be right."

You scoffed "Of course I am," you turned to your aunt and with an air of irritation you asked her "Now, are you going to let me work or haven't you finished disturbing me yet?"

Shocked by your words, Madja didn't know how to react or what to say, so she limited herself to taking two steps back, giving you space to continue working.

She looked at you, trying to understand what was happening to you, because this type of behavior was not normal.

You had never spoken to her like that - you had never spoken to anyone like that.

You were sweet, attentive, and very polite. This was not the niece she knew.

She couldn't help but think that maybe this situation with Azriel and Elain was affecting more than you had let on.

Plus, she was well acquainted with how much your emotions could overwhelm you. 

Choking sounds broke the trance she was in, and her mind refocused on what was in front of her.

You had started the healing process in the patient, and your hand hovered over his belly in order to try to eliminate the poison, but something was wrong.

Because the patient was now paler and bleeding from his mouth.

Madja saw you stop and look at her. "I think the poison is stronger than I thought." You kept looking at her, no doubt waiting for her to react, but when she didn't, you couldn't help the sarcastic comment that escaped you. "Are you waiting for him to die? Because my arms are starting to get numb." 

That was enough to make her move and begin her own examination of the patient.

She frowned. Did you really just say that? 

"Are you sure you gave me the correct name of the plant you used in your food?" You asked the patient while using a cloth to clean the blood, irritation in your voice.

He simply shook his head in confirmation.

"Maybe the plant you used was in contact with another. Are there any other poisonous plants in your garden?"

The male shook his head again, but this time in denial.

Your brain started working quickly trying to see all the possibilities and it was then that you turned to your aunt and found yourself saying "Maybe it's because he ate a long time ago and that allowed the poison to spread. I mean, who knows how long this idiot ingested a poisonous plant." 

Madja didn't answer you and due to her silence, you removed your hands from the patient and met her gaze with your empty eyes and a bored expression in your features "Okay, so you got this right? I'm hungry, so I'm going to take a break." And with a look of disgust, you walked away.

The old female's heart was beating very fast. She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.

Not just your words but also your actions.

Maybe she had seen wrong. 

Maybe what she saw and made her freeze before you caught her attention hadn't happened.

Maybe she just imagined it. 

Because it couldn't be.

Could it?

-

Several days passed, and you continued to act strangely since the day you returned from Illyria. 

Madja was observing you now more than ever, and little by little, she began to assimilate all the differences that you now demonstrated, but the one that worried her the most until now?  

The reason she made you work behind the counter taking care of patient charts so you wouldn't have to interact with them medically. 

You weren't the niece she knew and loved so much, and she began to think that something else must have happened - something you weren't sharing with her. 

And if Madja was honest with herself, you were starting to scare her.

Your behavior continued to become increasingly strange - how you interacted with patients, the way you spoke to her, your 'new clothes', and your nights out.

Not to mention what you had said to the family of the patient you lost a week ago. 

Madja met them in the market when she went shopping for groceries, and when the widow told her what you had said them, she didn't want to believe that such insensitivity had come from you. 

She thought about asking the Inner Circle if they knew anything but after meeting the High Lady on the street as she left her studio the other day, she informed Madja that it had been almost a week and a half since any of them had seen or spoken to you. 

Feyre also explained that both she and the others sent several letters to you, and none returned with a response.

Not even Nesta knew where you were these days. 

It was with this new information that Madja's heart began to tighten more and more with worry. Her sleep no longer came as it used to, and the feeling of calm that used to hover over her was gone. 

Madja was well aware of your relationship with the older Archeron sister, that she was not just a best friend but a sister.

So why wouldn't you be talking to her? With none of them? 

-

Rita's was full as always - full of life, light, and music.

People danced while others drank and gamble. Laughter, singing, and shouts of euphoria filled the air of the familiar bar. 

This has always been one of your favorite places to spend time with your family, not to mention that Rita herself was a long-time friend.

Good memories were formed on the dance floor with Feyre and Nesta, on the karaoke stage with Mor, several shot battles with Cassian that often ended with the two of you on the floor and too many card games with Rhys and Azriel where you took all their money.

Whenever these memories surfaced, they warmed your heart and made you feel lucky to have these people by your side.

Now, you felt nothing besides an emptiness in your heart, but at least your heart was whole again, and that's what mattered. 

You ordered your third drink of the night, and the moment you took the first sip, a deep voice was heard from behind you.

"Can I join you, my Lady?"

When you turned to find the owner of the mysterious voice, you couldn't hide the surprise on your face which you quickly replaced with a mischievous smile "Well, well, well, look what the wind brought." 

Your colorless eyes meet golden ones that belong to a male with fiery hair and a smile that matches yours displayed on his lips.

You let your eyes roam the male in front of you as you analyzed him. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons open, brown pants where his muscles were visible and black boots.

"Eris Vanserra," you held out your hand for him to shake. Instead, he grabbed it and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

"Lady Y/N," he greeted, his eyes always fixed on yours. 

You let out a light chuckle as you ran your eyes over the male again as he took the seat next to you. "Well, you look delicious." 

"I could say the same about you," he replied with a chuckle, and now it was his turn to look at your form.

You wore a simple black strapless dress that fit your curves perfectly with a slit in the skirt on your left thigh and a pair of silver high heels that matched your jewelry. 

Eris ordered his drink, and after you hit each other's glasses with a small 'cheers', you asked him the question you wanted since your eyes had landed on him.

"You are far from home. Tell me, what brings you to Velaris?" You took a sip of your drink before continuing. "Does Rhysand even know you're here?" 

Following your movements, Eris took a sip from his glass before putting it down and answering, "I'm here because of him, actually. I had a meeting with him and his Inner Circle a few hours ago."  

"Oh, and I thought you had come here just to see me," you said as you signaled the bartender to refill your glass.  

"That can be arranged," the Heir replied as he took another sip without ever taking his eyes off yours. 

You cleared your throat after an unexpected heat warmed your cheeks. "I'm surprised he let you come here." 

Eris chucked and turned around in his chair and faced you before resting one of his arms on the back of your chair. "I'm surprised I didn't see you at the meeting with the others. Did you lose the invitation?" 

You let out a laugh as you tilted your head back slightly before meeting those golden eyes again. "Nope, I just didn't want to go. Those meetings bore me to death." 

Eris's laughter rivaled yours and after losing yourself to the sound for a few seconds, you regained composure and found yourself saying to him "So if the meeting ended a few hours ago, what are you still doing here?" 

The male stared at you for a few seconds and you noticed his smile weakened a little at your question but he was quick to hide it before answering you "Maybe I wanted to see you before I left." 

"You mean you want to avoid Beron." 

Shock crossed the male's features, and when he opened his mouth to respond, you were quick to raise a hand towards him and stop him. "I'm an empath. Reading people is kinda my thing, remember?" 

"Right, sometimes I forget that," he picked up his glass again and turned it around a few times in his hand and this time he kept his eyes on the drink as he asked, "so, does that mean you've read me before?" " 

"Yes." 

"And what did you read?"

"That this whole act of you being a bad, terrible and heartless male is just that. An act." 

His eyes finally meet yours, and you proceed. "That you care. That you love your mother and Lucien more than you let on. And that you love your court and can't wait to get it out of Beron's claws." 

"Hm," Eris leaned against the counter, and with a look of indifference on his face, he told you, "That's...accurate." 

A smile returned to your lips. Your skills never failed you, at least not when it came to reading people.

"Do you want to know what else I read?" 

Eris gestured with his hand for you to continue, coming closer to the edge of your chair, you leaned slightly towards him before telling him "That you, Eris Vanserra," you placed a finger on his chest "you will be a better High Lord than that terrible male ever was." 

Eris swallowed the lump in his throat as you picked up your glass again and raised it towards him, making the Heir follow your movement.

With a clink of glasses, you both drained your drinks, and a mischievous smile returned to your lips. "So, are you spending your night here?"

Eris laughed, and as he placed some money on the counter for the night's drinks, he matched your smile, and with amusement in his voice, he asked you, "Why? Is that an invitation?" 

You added the same tone of amusement to your voice when you answered, "Maybe." 

- 

You thanked the Mother that your aunt was working the night shift at the clinic and would only return in the morning. Otherwise, this would be embarrassing - for her, at least. 

You walked up the stairs towards your bedroom with the male behind you. 

Upon entering your bedroom, Eris looked around, noticing that it was small but cozy.

A bed was placed in the corner with a wide window behind it, a bookshelf full of books on healing and romance novels was at the foot of the bed with an puff in front of it against the wall.

Some paintings decorated the walls, several faelights lit up the small bedroom, and a desk was on the wall opposite the bed with a mirror on its side. 

What also didn't go unnoticed by Eris was the pile of parchments you had on your desk.

"What's all this?" He asked as he pointed to it.

Your eyes followed his finger, and you noticed  that the pile was now higher than yesterday - 'Madja must have added the ones that arrived this morning', you thought. 

They were letters from your friends. The ones they've been sending since you left Illyria and have been avoiding them.

Every day, new letters arrive. Letters that you didn't even bother opening, let alone reading, so you collected them on top of your desk. Why? You still didn't know.

There was a morning when a letter signed by Azriel was on the carpet at the entrance of your house - that one went right to the fireplace.  

With a shrug, you simply said "Trash" and picked them all up and placed them in the trash can before leaning against your desk while Eris sat on your bed. 

"You look different." The male's voice filled the bedroom.

"What do you mean?"

It was Eris's turn to shrug before continuing, "You seem more...free." 

You chuckled, and as you ran a hand down your dress, you said, "I feel like that." 

There was a moment of silence, and you watched the Heir as he looked at one of the paintings next to your bed.

Your eyes fell on his body again, and with a thought coming to your mind, a feline look and smile took over your face. 

Noticing the way you were looking at him, Eris leaned on his forearms and shot you a bold smile. "What is that little head of yours thinking about?"

You laughed at his words, and as you approached him, you rested your hands on his thighs. "I have a question."

His smile grew even wider, and one of his eyebrows rose, and you took that gesture as your cue to continue.

Your hands moved to his chest as you straddled his hips, "I want to know if what everyone says is true."

He placed his hands on your thighs and, in a whisper, asked, "What is true?" 

You leaned into his chest and as you brushed aside his hair with your hand, your lips hovered over his ear "That the Autumn males have fire in their veins and they also fuck like it." 

Eris's body tensed beneath yours at your words, turning his smile into mischief, and the smell of arousal began to fill the small bedroom. 

"It's true." Eris straightened up, taking you with him and pushed your hair behind your shoulders.

You intertwined your fingers in his fiery hair, and still in a low voice, you said, "I'm afraid I'm going to need proof," earning a few chuckles from him.

With a kiss on his neck and then another on his shoulder, you whispered, "Why don't you show me?"

Eris giggled, and with his hands now on your waist, he murmured, "As you wish, my Lady." Before connecting his lips with yours. 

And so he did. 

- 

Several knocks on the front door woke you up the next morning. 

You let out several curse words as you went down the stairs only in underwear while you tried to button the white shirt that you stole from the male who was still sleeping in your bed. 

You only had time to button the last three buttons of the shirt before you reached the door and turned the handle to open it.

"Oh, for God's sake," you ran a hand over your face before crossing your arms and leaning against the door. "What are you doing here?" 

The High Lord of the Night Court was at your doorstep dressed in his usual black suit with his hands in his pockets.

"Good morning to you too." Rhys said with a look of indifference at your choice of clothing to open the door. 

 "What are you doing here?" You asked the question again. 

"You missed yesterday's meeting, and as you haven't answered any of our letters, I decided that perhaps it would be better to pay you a personal visit." He finished with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 

You ran a hand through your hair again before giving him an irritated look. "And you decided to come..." You stretched back to see the clock on the living room table "at seven in the morning?" 

"I went to the clinic, and you weren't there."

"Today is my day off." 

He cleared his throat, ignoring the fact that your bra was showing, "Why didn't you go yesterday?"

"I've been busy." It was your only answer.

Rhys was about to speak again when someone's footsteps coming down the stairs reached both your ears. 

"Do you have guests?" 

"She does. And he's really annoyed that you made her get out of bed at this hour." Eris said as he stood right behind you in just his boxers. 

One of his hands went to your shoulder and the other to the door. “Good morning, Rhysand.” He said with a smile.

"Eris." Rhysand replied with an expression of indifference, but you knew that deep down, he was surprised to see him with you.

Silence hung in the air as the two males looked at each other and you looked between them.  

The High Lord broke the silence without taking his eyes of the Autumn Heir. "What is he doing here?"

With a shrug and an air of amusement, you replied, "Eris wanted to see Velaris."  

A laugh sounded behind you, and you joined him, and when you noticed the frustrated look of the male in front of you, you couldn't help but ask, "You don't like the view?"

"I can't say I do." Rhysand answered with his eyes now meeting yours.

"Well, that's a shame. Maybe next time, think about letting me know you're coming before you show up at my door at seven in the morning." And with a fake smile dancing on your lips, you closed the door in his face. 

-

Madja continued to look at you from moment to moment, trying to understand you as she has been doing in the last few days without success.

You were working at the counter, updating patient charts, and you seemed so normal. It seemed like everything was fine.

But Madja knew it was just an illusion.

The atmosphere between you was now stranger after her shift ended early, and she found you with a male on the living room couch a few days ago. Not just a male but the Heir of Autumn.

You laughed at the situation while she didn't think it was that funny. In fact, she thought it was shocking, considering this had never happened before. 

Her worry grew with each passing day. 

It was only when a letter from Rhysand arrived at the clinic that morning informing that you were to appear at the Townhouse for a meeting in the afternoon that the old female's heart relaxed for a moment. 

The High Lord also took the time to explain in the letter that if you didn't show up this time, he himself would pick you up and carry you on his shoulder if necessary as this meeting was not optional. 

When you finished reading, you huffed and muttered a small "I'd like to see you try" before crumpling up the piece of parchment and throwing it in the trash can. 

You kept yourself busy at the clinic, and when the time for the meeting approached, you didn't bother finishing your work and going.

You simply continued doing your job and about twenty minutes later, when you returned to the counter, your eyes met violet ones. 

The High Lord was now in front of you and with your biggest smile of innocence, you asked him "Are you here for an appointment? Or maybe you came to pick up some medicine?"  

Rhysand faked a smile at your sarcastic comment - apparently you made a lot of those now. 

"Where is your red-haired lover?" 

You looked down, and started looking in your pants pockets and when you finished, you met his violet eyes again before saying "Not in here." 

The male sighed loudly and in a deep but calm voice said to you "The meeting started twenty minutes ago."

"I know," you said without ever breaking eye contact.

"And can you explain to me why I had to come here?"

With a hand gesturing around the waiting room where multiple patients were, you replied "As you can see I've been very busy. A lot of people don't have the choice to spend the day sitting around doing nothing." You finished by resting your head on your hands, which were on top of the counter. 

Rhys furrowed his eyebrows. Since when did you talk to someone like that?

At his confused look, you let out a dry laugh and, continued "I have no interest in going to the meeting, so I'm sorry you wasted your time in coming here, Rhysand."  

"Rhysand?" He asked dumbfounded as he saw you walk away from the counter and grab the next patient's chart before making your way to where a old female was seated.

He wasted no time in following you "Since when do you call me by my full name?" 

You were quick to mutter "Since you came here to be a pain in my ass" in response. 

And this was enough of a reality check to make the male stop in his tracks. Rhys had received a letter from your aunt a few days ago informing him that you were different but he discard it since the events of that night were still recent. 

But now that he allowed himself to really look at you - he saw all the signs. Not only in the way you were acting but also in your clothes.

You were always a warm and happy person and you reflected that in the clothes you wore with light and vivid colors. 

Normally you always wore dresses or a skirt with a top as the days at the clinic required you to walk from one side to the other and that way you were more comfortable as you had explained once when Cassian commented that you always looked like a princess. 

But now? Now it seemed like the princess had been replaced by an evil queen.

Leather pants covered your legs while a black strappy top was on your torso tucked into your pants and held up by a belt with silver details around your waist.

Black high heels, eyeliner on your eyes and red lipstick on your lips completed the outfit.

You looked like a completely different person. 

'What the hell happened?' The question echoed through his mind before Rhys gently grabbed your arm and turned you around.

He decided at that moment that this could (and would) be talked about later, the important thing now was getting you to the meeting. 

"Y/N, we have a meeting to attend. Let's go."

"I already told you that-"

Before you could finish, Rhys took the patient chart from your hands and handed it to a dark-haired healer that was passing by before crouching down and lifting you onto his shoulder with one hand still gripping your arm while the other reached around your legs to hold you. 

"Rhysand! Are you kidding me?" You said and started swearing as you hit his back with your free hand.

On your way out, both of you passed by Madja and Rhys assured her that he would bring you back home in a few hours.

The old healer felt more at ease knowing that you would be safe with your friends and despite the worry that filled her heart, she couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the sight of you on the High Lord's shoulder. 

Maybe this was exactly what you needed - a night out with your friends.

Hope replaced some of the worry that she had been carrying these last few days, that after tonight, you would come back happier.

You would come back as the Y/N she knew.

-

"Seriously, Rhysand? Are you going to carry me like this the whole way?" You asked with annoyance in your voice.

"Yes." A hint of embarrassment crossed the male's face at the use of his full name. 

Several curses were muttered in a low voice as the eyes of the citizens of Velaris focused on you and the male who carried you, one of your arms still trapped in his hand. 

Some citizens looked curious while others laughed, but they all whispered about the reason for such a view. 

"Rhysand, people are looking." You mumble with a pat on his back.

"I know," were his words as he sent smiles and slight waves in the direction of his citizens, as if this were some kind of show - one he was enjoying too much for your taste.

Using his daemati powers, Rhysand sent a message to his family - a message warning them to prepare themselves.

- 

"Well, this is a new view." You heard Cassian's voice when you and Rhys finally entered the Townhouse's living room.

Rhys stopped in front of the couches where his family sat, some of them with drinks in their hands, "Sorry it took so long. I had to walk." 

A tap on Rhys' back sounded through the room followed by a small murmur of "Prick" coming from you. 

"Hey" Rhys tried to scold you at the same time you said "Does my ass look good from back there?"

Rhys sighed loudly, earning a few chuckles from the people in front of him.

They had been talking about Rhys's warning before you arrived but they couldn't deny that your actions were funny despite the situation. 

"Was this really necessary, Rhys?" Feyre asked with a small smile gracing her lips.

"Believe me, it was." Rhys began to gently place you on the ground before rising to his full height again and placing his hands in his pockets. 

You turned to face the rest of your friends and managed to catch the surprise that crossed their eyes when they saw you in your new outfit.

"Hello." You greeted them with a slight nod. 

"You're late, girl. Did you lose track of time?" Amren asked you while drinking from her glass of wine.

"No, I just didn't want to come." Was your response before grabbing the glass of whiskey that Cassian was passing to Rhys and sitting on the couch between Nesta and Elain. 

Nesta turned towards you and said softly, "I've been trying to talk to you these last few days." 

"I've been busy." You said without looking her in the eye.

Nesta furrowed her eyebrows at your behavior. 

She had received Rhys's warning just like the others but she really thought things would be different with her.

That even though you were different with the others, you wouldn't be with her and that she would be the person to go through you, just like you did for her a year ago. 

When you saw Nesta opening her mouth with the intention of speaking again, you were quick to cut her off "So are we going to start this meeting or not? Since I was dragged here like a sack of potatoes." You mumbled the last part.

The High Lord cleared his throat before beginning "I had a meeting with Eris the other day. Apparently Beron allied himself with the human queen Briallyn who in turn allied herself with Koschei." 

"We need to know Beron's plans are with this new alliance and that's exactly what Eris is doing. I'm going to meet with him again in two days and that's where you come in, Y/N."

At the mention of your name, you looked at the male who was already looking at you. With a raise of your eyebrows, he continued "I need you to come with me to the meeting and read Eris. I need to know if he is being honest or not." 

You chuckled "Why would he lie?" 

"He has lied before." Azriel spoke for the first time since your arrival.

You looked at him with a cold look, and everyone else could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped when your colorless eyes met his.

"So have you." You didn't hesitate to respond. You saw him flinch and stared at each other for a few more seconds before he looked away and you continued "So has everyone else in this room. Except Elain of course. Perfect, sweet and innocent Elain would never do that."  

You looked at the female with a fake smile and it was at that moment that you realized what was in front of you.

Azriel and Elain sitting on different sofas far from each other without any kind of physical or visual contact.

As you exchanged glances between the two, a smile began to form on your lips at the realization. 

Lifting a finger you gestured between the two of them before trying to express your curiosity "What's wrong with the love birds?"  

When no one responded, it didn't take long for you to speak again. "Trouble in paradise? Oh, wait. I know. You finally remembered Lucien."  You finished with a laugh. 

You saw Azriel's jaw throbbing in frustration and as you were really enjoying this new view, you decided to continue.

You moved closer to Elain and placed your arm around her shoulders before telling her loud enough for everyone to hear, "In my opinion, you should choose Lucien. You know that rumor that Autumn males have fire in their veins and also fuck like it?"  

You heard Rhysand swear in the background, giving you a new smile and encouraging you to continue. "Well, it's true. Eris proved that to me the other night."  You finished with a wink in her direction. 

"Y/N." Rhysand called you out with his High Lord voice. 

"What? It's the truth," you laughed and started to get up to leave.

Upon seeing you get up, Feyre was quick to gently grab your wrist and turn you towards her, she held your hand with both of her hands and said calmly "Did you receive our letters?"

You looked at your joined hands before answering her "I did."

With a slight nod, she asked again "Did you read them?" 

You looked at her and when you saw your friend's face, you let your guard down for a second and tried to read her emotions instinctively.

But then a movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

Azriel was filling his glass and in sight of the male, you remembered why you did what you did to protect yourself.

For that same reason, you moved away from her touch and with a cold voice you gave her the answer she didn't want to hear.

"No. In fact, I throw them away. With the exception of your letter, Azriel," you turned to the male who froze in his place with your voice addressing him, "I burned yours." 

And with that you started to make your way to the front door with Rhysand behind you to take you home, just like he had told your aunt, leaving your friends shocked without knowing what to say about this new version of you. 

Cassian followed you to the door and stopped you before you could open it. "You never came back to the House of Wind."

Upon meeting the General's eyes, after your interaction with Feyre, you realized for the first time that where affection and love for your friends used to be was now empty. 

"I moved out. I'm living with my aunt again." A shrug accompanied your response. 

"Why?" He asked you. 

The truth is that you felt embarrassed. 

Embarrassed about that night.

Embarrassed that you cried in front of your aunt and your friends.

Embarrassed that you fell in love with a male who had no interest in you.

Embarrassed that you let a male make you feel this way, that you gave him so much power over your emotions.

Embarrassed by how weak you felt. 

But not anymore.

Now you feel nothing.

And that's exactly how you wanted it. 

You didn't bother to answer him before turning your back on him and disappearing into the darkness of the night with Rhys by your side.

-

The office door opened softly letting the light of the faelights fill the hallway. 

Feyre slipped inside before spotting her mate standing in front of the desk with a book that by the looks of it must be very old as he inspected the pages.

"What is that?" Feyre's voice echoed through the silent office, making her mate's violet eyes meet her light blue ones.

"It's a book about rare powers, it has several chapters about empaths. I borrowed it from Helion after Y/N came to the house." He explained with his eyes returning to the yellow pages.

Feyre laughed lightly as she recalled how her friend had arrived at the residence. "You mean when you had to carry her here?"

Rhys tried to laugh but a weak smile was all he could muster. The small gesture did not go unnoticed by the High Lady, nor did the concern on the male's face.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?"

With a long sigh, Rhys stood up to his full height and faced his wife, "Very. Something happened to her and we don't know what," as he crossed his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall before continuing "She's different. She's insensitive and arrogant. That's not our Y/N."

The last sentence made Feyre's heart tighten a little - she felt it too. They all did and they all missed their friend. 

"Did you notice the way she looked at Azriel?" Feyre asked, when she saw how you looked at the male, she thanked to the Mother that she wasn't the one on the receiving end of it "It was like she never felt anything for him, like she hated him. It was scary actually."

Rhys's eyes widened as the realization made its way through his mind. "Like she didn't feel..." he muttered softly and approached the book again.

Confused, the female approached the desk trying to figure out what Rhys had just realized, as he started flipping through the pages faster and faster.

Feyre was surprised the pages didn't tear considering how old they were and how quickly they were being flipped through. 

"Rhys?" 

The High Lord stopped at a page and after reading it and rereading it several times, Feyre heard his heart starting to race.

Very slowly, Rhys raised his head to meet his mate's eyes and with a low voice he finally revealed the reason for his reaction. "She turned them off."

"What?" 

His heart started to beat even faster "Her emotions. She turned them off," Rhys ran a hand through his hair making it even more uneven, "Y/N turned off her emotions."

Shock began to course through the High Lady's body and she didn't hide it when she was invaded by it. "Is that possible?"

At her question, Rhys turned the book towards her and let her read the information he was still trying to process. Everything started to make sense.

"The way she talks, her clothes and the fact that she doesn't care about anything...all of this because-"

"Because she doesn't feel anything." Rhys finished for her.

As he opened his mouth to speak again, several knocks on the wooden office door interrupted him.

Clearing his voice, Rhys gave the order for the person behind the door to enter. 

It was quite late, with most of their family having gone to their respective rooms a few hours ago, but the couple couldn't hide their surprise when the person knocking on the door turned out to be Nuala.

"Nuala? Is everything okay?" Feyre asked.

The half-wraith stepped forward and without revealing anything in her features, she replied "I'm not sure, High Lady. I came to inform you that Lady Madja is in the living room and has asked to speak to the Inner Circle immediately."

Even more confused than before, they both questioned why would Madja be here in the middle of the night.

Nuala continued "Lady Madja said it was urgent. It's about Y/N."

At the mention of your name, two sets of chills went down the couple's spines and Rhys was quick to give Nuala a new order "Wake everyone up." 

-

The Inner Circle met in the living room with Madja among them.

Rhys proceeded to explain what he had discovered about you just moments ago.

The book now sat on the old healer's lap as she reread what her niece had done with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Madja knew something was wrong with you but she would never have guessed that this was the reason behind it. 

"So, she doesn't feel anything?" Nesta asked. 

If this matter had been about anyone else, she wouldn't have bothered to show her sadness but you weren't anyone else. You were her best friend. Her sister.

"Yes." Feyre said with a lump in her throat.

The room fell silent as everyone tried to process this new information. 

In the corner of the sofa, Cassian blamed himself for not having noticed sooner and not having done anything to help; Elain kept looking around the room with the feeling she was being judged and Azriel was rethinking all the signs you had given him that he hadn't noticed.

"It's no one's fault," Rhys' voice caught their attention but his attention was only on Cassian, "We had no way of knowing this. Without that book we wouldn't even know this was possible."

The General hadn't even realized that his shields were down but his brother's words brought him comfort. 

"What do we do?" Mor spoke for the first time since entering the room "How do we get her back?"

Hurt flashed across Rhys's face and before he could respond, Madja did it for him. "We can't," all eyes turned to her and for the first time since they had known the healer, they saw her cry.

"Y/N is the only one who can turn her emotions back on. It's up to her and only her," with new tears falling down her cheeks she concluded, "There's nothing we can do." 

Feyre placed a hand on the old female's shoulder. "I'm so sorry Madja." 

Madja let out a long sigh and before she could hesitate any further she said "That's not all. There's a reason I came here tonight."

"What do you mean?" Cassian asked.

"Y/N's personality isn't the only thing that has changed."

The room became tense and several breaths were held.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amren asked and if Madja knew her better, she would have sworn she had just heard a hint of fear in Amren's voice.

"I've been trying to figure out why for several days but this..." she pointed to the book, "this explains everything."

With all eyes focused on her, the old healer begin to explain "A few days ago I put Y/N to treat a boy's knee. She grabbed one of his leg and when she put it down there was a bruise in the same place her hand was. Y/N assumed she just hadn't seen the bruise before but that was because the boy didn't have any. I was the one who sat that boy in the chair and the only thing he had was the wound on his knee and nothing else. I would have noticed the bruise if he had it." 

"What are you trying to say, Madja?" Rhys asked, he could feel that with every word the old female spoke, everyone became more nervous. 

"After the boy," Madja continued, "she attended to a male who had ingested a poisonous plant by mistake. When she used her magic to heal him, he started spitting blood from his mouth and became very pale. Y/N thought that the poison was stronger than she thought but when I came to help the male...I managed to cure him without any problems." 

"Madja, what are-" Nesta tried to ask.

"I think...," Madja ran a hand through her black hair, "I think when Y/N turned off her emotions, I think it affected her powers too. When I saw her trying to heal that male, her powers weren't emitted by a white light like all healers." 

Mor's voice shook as she asked "What was it?"

Madja stared at the blonde female before telling her "Darkness."   

Several curse words passed through the room, increasing the tension that was already in the air.

"I think Y/N gave the boy that bruise and I think when she tried to take the poison out of the male...I think she ended up spreading it." 

"Over the next few days, each time Y/N used her powers to heal the patients...they all got worse. Eventually, I had to put her to work behind the counter so she couldn't hurt anyone else."

This new revelation of your powers only made a bad situation even worse and much, much more dangerous.

It is already quite dangerous for a person not to be able to feel anything as this means that they cannot distinguish right from wrong just as they cannot understand when to stop but to have their powers changed?

Amren set down her glass of wine before speaking "If you think about it it makes sense," she began drawing all the attention to her "When Y/N turned off her emotions, she turned off everything that was a part of her, including her own person."  

"What does this mean?" Nesta asked with fear on her face not only for what this could mean but also for you. 

Azriel was the first to realize with Amren's words being the last piece of the puzzle he needed  "Mother help us. Madja, you're not trying to say that Y/N is now a..."

The male couldn't find the strength to finish his sentence but it wasn't long before Cassian continued where he left.

"A what?" He asked, eyes bouncing between his brother and the healer. "She's a what?" 

With a long sigh, Madja said "Y/N is no longer a healer."

No one was prepared for Madja's next words. They didn't know what to expect when she came to their house in the middle of the night but they never would have thought of this turn of events.

They would never have guessed that their friend's pain was so deep that it would cause this to happen. 

"Y/N is a necromancer." 

A/n: Thank you for reading!

[Masterlist]

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the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[its-avalon-08]

say something, say anything (ln4)

summary -> lando and y/n got into a massive agrguement and he yelled at her. she leaves to get some space and he is left to pick up the pieces.

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort

The air crackled with tension in Lando's sleek apartment. Dinner plates remained untouched, the remnants of a playful afternoon at the Monaco harbor replaced by a suffocating silence. Y/N, her back ramrod straight, finally broke it.

"I can't believe you said that to Daniel," she said, voice tight.

Lando scoffed, pushing back from the table. "Come on, Y/N, it was just a joke."

"A pretty cutting one, aimed at someone who's actually struggling this season," she countered. "And in front of everyone, no less."

"He should be able to take a jab," Lando mumbled, his playful demeanor replaced by a defensive scowl.

"That's not the point! It's not funny to poke fun at someone's performance, especially a teammate."

"Oh, come on," Lando's voice rose a notch. "Don't pretend you haven't laughed at some of Ricciardo's antics yourself."

"That's different! It's all light-hearted banter, not publicly belittling someone on a bad day."

Lando slammed his fist on the table, the sudden noise making Y/N flinch. "Look, will you just fucking drop it? It's not a big of a goddamn deal."

The anger in his voice caught Y/N off guard. Tears welled up in her eyes. "That's not how you talk to me, Lando."

His expression softened a fraction. "Y/N, I—"

"No," she cut him off, wiping at her eyes. "This is fucking childish. I'm going for a walk."

She grabbed her purse and stormed out, leaving Lando staring after her, a knot of guilt tightening in his stomach. He waited for a beat, then pulled out his phone, his heart hammering in his chest as he dialed your number.

One ring. Two rings. Voicemail.

Frustration bubbled up. He tried again, the same result. He slammed his phone down on the table, his anger returning.

He fumed for a while, then finally dialed again. This time, you picked up.

"Y/N," he started, relief flooding his voice.

"What, Lando?" Your voice was cool, devoid of its usual warmth.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," he said, forcing a lightness he didn't feel. "It was a stupid joke, and I shouldn't have said it."

"An apology would've been nice back at the apartment, before I had to practically walk out," you countered.

"Yeah, well, you could've just talked to me instead of storming off like a—"

He stopped himself, realizing where that was going. There was a heavy silence.

"Don't call me immature, Lando," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

"It's kind of immature to walk out on a conversation just because you're upset," he retorted, defensiveness creeping back in.

"Oh, so now it's my fault for being upset by your lack of empathy?"

"I have empathy, Y/N! But I also know how to laugh things off sometimes. You need to lighten up geez."

The line went dead. Lando stared at the phone, his frustration morphing into something close to despair. He'd messed up, royally. He knew you weren't the type to throw a tantrum, but walking out after he yelled? That was bad. Really bad.

He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. He needed to fix this, but how? Maybe some flowers, your favorite chocolates… but that felt like a band-aid on a gaping wound. He needed to do better. He just hoped you'd give him the chance.

a little later

Y/N wandered the park, tears drying on her cheeks, leaving a trail of saltiness. Her phone buzzed incessantly with Lando's calls, but she kept it silenced. She just needed some space to process the anger and hurt. As she rounded a corner, she bumped into a familiar figure.

"Oh, Y/N! Hey!" boomed Daniel's voice, his usual infectious energy dimmed. Heidi, his girlfriend, greeted her with a warm smile.

Y/N felt a fresh wave of guilt. "Hey, guys," she managed, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The puffiness around her eyes must've been a dead giveaway.

"Everything alright?" Daniel asked, his brow furrowing with concern. "You look like you've been crying."

Y/N quickly blinked away any threatening tears. "Oh, no, it's just allergies. Hay fever's a nightmare this time of year." It was a lame excuse, and they both knew it.

Heidi, perceptive soul she was, placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Are you sure? You can tell us if something's wrong."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the urge to confide in them strong. But Lando's immaturity and the sting of his words still felt raw. "Honestly, it's nothing a good night's sleep won't fix. Thanks for your concern, though. It means a lot."

Before they could press further, Y/N shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, there's something I wanted to say." She turned to Daniel, her voice sincere. "I'm so sorry about Lando's comment earlier. It was completely out of line, and I know you're working incredibly hard."

Daniel gave her a sad smile. "No worries, Y/N. I appreciate you sticking up for me." He patted her hand lightly. "Just tell Lando to ease up on the… team spirit, shall we say?"

Y/N gave a weak laugh, unable to meet his eyes fully. "I'll try."

With a forced farewell, she turned and walked away, leaving Daniel and Heidi to exchange a worried glance.

Daniel, phone pressed to his ear, marched purposefully towards his car. "Lando? Speak to me."

There was a nervous pause on the other end. "Hey, mate," Lando said, his voice strained.

"Don't 'hey, mate' me," Daniel cut him off, his voice low and firm. "What happened with Y/N?"

Lando flinched at the sharpness in Daniel's tone. He mumbled a vague explanation, trying to downplay the situation. Daniel, however, wasn't having it.

"Listen, Lando," Daniel interrupted, his voice heavy with disappointment. "I know things haven't been going great for me this season. But that doesn't give you the right to take a jab at my performance, especially in front of everyone. You know better than that."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And from the way Y/N sounded, it seems things escalated beyond a 'joke'. You know she cares about you, right?"

Lando mumbled incoherently, a knot of shame tightening in his stomach. Daniel didn't need to hear his answer.

"Just… sort it out," Daniel said with a sigh. "And for goodness sake, apologize properly. She deserves it."

The line went dead, leaving Lando staring at his phone, the weight of his actions hitting him hard. He'd hurt Y/N, embarrassed Daniel, and created unnecessary tension within the team. Now, he had to fix it, but where to even begin?

Panic gnawed at Lando's insides. He'd called Y/N a dozen times, each unanswered ring echoing his growing fear. He couldn't believe he'd let things escalate so far. To make matters worse, her phone's location service was disabled, adding another layer of frustration.

He knew her usual haunts, the park being a top contender. Throwing on a cap and sunglasses, he jumped into his car, speeding through the city streets. Every corner looked the same, his heart pounding with a frantic rhythm. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spotted a familiar figure on a park bench, a discarded coffee cup beside her.

He parked haphazardly and sprinted across the grass, his chest heaving. Y/N, her back turned, didn't even turn her head when she heard his approach.

"Y/N," he said, voice ragged. "Hey, please listen to—"

She remained stubbornly silent, staring intently at a group of pigeons strutting across the grass. Lando felt defeated, his shoulders slumping. "Look, I know I messed up. Big time."

Still no response. He felt like a fool, rambling on to a brick wall.

"What I said to Daniel, it was stupid and insensitive. And then yelling at you… that was just… I don't even know what I was thinking. You didn't deserve that."

He took a deep breath, finally registering the hurt on her face, even from behind. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. Can you please forgive me?"

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Just as Lando felt all hope drain away, Y/N finally spoke. "You know what, Lando? You hurt me. A lot."

Her voice, though quiet, held an unexpected edge of strength. It was a wake-up call, and Lando felt a surge of gratitude that she hadn't shut him out completely.

"I know," he confessed, his voice thick with remorse. "I feel terrible about it. Please, just talk to me."

A long, agonizing silence followed. Finally, Y/N sighed, a flicker of something softer returning to her eyes. "Alright," she said, finally facing him. "But you better be sincere, Lando Norris."

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. He knelt before her, taking her hand in his. "More sincere than you can imagine. I value you, Y/N. You're… everything to me."

His voice cracked slightly, and he saw a flicker of empathy cross her face. "Just… don't take that for granted, okay?"

He squeezed her hand, his heart overflowing. "Never. Never again. Can you forgive me?"

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze searching his. Slowly, a hint of a smile played on her lips. "Fine," she conceded, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "But on one condition."

Lando grinned, hope blooming in his chest. "Anything."

"No more insensitive jokes about teammates, especially when you know they're struggling. And no more yelling when we fight."

He chuckled, relief turning into pure joy. "Deal. In fact, I'll bake Daniel a giant apology cake. How does that sound?"

Y/N laughed, a beautiful sound that chased away the last remnants of tension. "Sounds like a plan."

He stood up, pulling her into a tight embrace. The scent of her perfume filled his senses, a comforting balm to his soul. As they held each other, the anger and hurt melted away, replaced by a deep sense of love and understanding.

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. The kiss was hesitant at first, filled with unspoken apologies and renewed devotion. As they deepened the kiss, a sense of peace settled over them.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Y/N snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. With his arm wrapped around her, they sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of the afternoon sun basking them in its glow. They had a long way to go, but for now, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ayo i did it again (rambled). i have no idea where i went with this but it really wENT yknow, but hey you get fluff!!!!!. ALSO (im looking at you cristi) if it wasnt clear this is set, like, pre-show T_T just before ep 1 lmao (ily cristi im just going through it with my writing) | cross posted on ao3

tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

You did not realize being made a spectacle would be as exhausting as it was. Truly, all you did as your prince brought you to the training quarters of the City Watch, was stand, force a smile and feel their gaze upon you as Daemon instructed them to roughhouse for your (but really his) entertainment. Yet, it felt like you had been running nonstop and only now found reprieve.

Perhaps it was because it was really your mind that was running with the thought of how you snubbed your twin. In truth, you knew Gwayne understood your actions, for he was really the only person who understood you, and yet that was precisely why it ate at you so much. How could you do such a thing to your brother?

At some point, Daemon is too distracted by his sparring soldiers to remember you were there. By the time they began to drink, you gave word to one of the guards and made your way back to the Keep yourself.

You head for your brother's chambers, set on setting things straight. You do not find him there however, and your mind begins to wander. Was he avoiding you? Was he cross?

Upon asking one of his servants, you find that he was tasked with duty from the Lord Hand. Part of you feels comforted by the answer, but then you wonder if the task had something to do with you. You try not to think about it as you head back to your own chambers.

You are ripped out of your train of thought when you hear your name called.

Queen Aemma stands across you, hand on her belly, smile on her lips, "have you come to worry on me, good sister?"

Your back straightens and you clasp your hands in front of you, "my queen. I-I-"

"I do hope not," she stretches, leaning back into her hands, "the last thing I want right now is to have yet another person try to tell me what is best for me and my babe."

You shake your head, turning to your feet, "the last thing I would do is impose my inexperience of child bearing upon you."

Aemma's face softens. She's seldom seen someone who looks as though they suffer more than her. "Excellent."

You lift your gaze.

"Come keep me company then and distract me with tales lacking child bearing."

You are taken aback by the invitation and watch the queen slowly waddle back into her quarters. You delay to realize you should be assisting then promptly rush up to her side. You offer her your arm and she gratefully takes it. She is exhausted by the time you reach her bed.

"Thank you," she sighs, wiping the sweat on her temple.

"Of course," you help her put her feet up. You look over your shoulder momentarily, "have you no one to call to? Shall I call for someone?"

"No," she waves you off, "I merely walked out of the room and looked out of the window for a while. I am fine."

You nod and pull away, fidgeting with your fingers, "is there something I might do for you?"

"Yes," she reaches for your arm, "sit."

So you do.

"And tell me, why on earth did Daemon bring you to the City Watch?"

You freeze upon hearing that.

There is a playful curiosity upon Aemma's features, but you no thin think she asks to embarrass you. Still, you open your mouth and begin to stutter, "h-how did you kno-w?"

She chuckles, leaning deeper into her pillow, "oh, my dear," she rubs her belly, "I am privy to all gossip in the Keep. Tis the only activity one such as I can do in my state. Incidentally, had the opposite been true, it is all the servants speak of—" she slowly reaches for you, pushing your hair back.

You are made acutely aware of the marks on your collar again.

"—how the fragile lamb tamed the ferocious dragon."

You chuckle dryly and stare at your lap. You pick at your nails, feeling your throat tighten, "I tame no one, my queen."

As Aemma looks at you, she thinks again she's not laid her eyes upon someone that looks more pained than herself. The sun was already setting, but the marks on your collarbones were still visible. She wonders if you at least enjoyed yourself when you received those marks. "Perhaps not yet."

You chuckle once more.

"He is stubborn and brash, but he is also loyal and passionate."

"Loyal to himself," you turn to her, "with a passion for deviance."

You are unnerved by the sudden call of your name. Your heart races at her misplaced familiarity.

This might be why you blurt out, "I am no fool."

She straightens up, "I did not say you were."

"I know I am feeble in form, but not in mind. I am a mere piece in someone else's game of chess, but every piece has its purpose, even pawns."

Aemma frowns. Her forehead curls, "and pawns can turn into the most powerful piece."

You stare at her belly.

"The Queen."

You do not tell her it is only true in board games.

"Does it frighten you?"

Your eyes quirk up to hers. Her violet eyes are much softer than Daemon's. She does not clarify, but the way in which she rubs her swollen stomach makes it clear to you what she meant. You rub your own as dread pricks through you, "I do not know how it is possible for anyone not to be frightened."

It is her turn to chuckle.

It perturbs you.

"I will not lie to you," she shifts in her spot, "there is no greater pain in the world than becoming a mother, I think..."

It is mortifying to hear, considering you know how many times Queen Aemma has conceived and given birth. How much more painful it must be, as she remains to have one child. You do not think all your years of pain could ever prepare you for such loss.

"... that can be the most gratifying."

You are taken aback when she reaches for your hand. Her palms are soft, just as her expression.

"I do not presume to know you, but I find that whatever pain I have is eclipsed by love I feel for my babe. Still, when the thought of childbirth gets too much, I retreat into something I loved before my babe."

Your brows furrow.

"Tapestries and tea time," she tilts her head, "and Viserys."

You do not know how to feel as she pulls away.

She rubs her forehead, "even speaking is exhausting when you are with child. Forgive me, but I think I would like to go to sleep now."

You shake your head and stand, "there is nothing to be forgiven. I will leave you to your own comforts," you curtsy.

You roam the candlelit halls as you digest the queen's words. You were on your way back to your chambers, then you remember your brother. You promptly head to his room, finding the door open. "Gwayne?"

Emerge two servants carrying a trunk, greeting you before walking off. Your brows furrow as you watch them. You turn back when you hear your name called.

Your twin walks over, still in his doublet and leather shoes. You begin to get nervous, "you're leaving?"

"Preparing to," he says, eyes falling on your collarbones, "the is still the matter of the tourney."

"Tourney?"

"The queen is set to give birth soon— you must not let that man dishonor you so," he quips through clenched teeth, pulling you into his room.

You are dragged inside and he releases you once you're in front of his bed. He grabs his blanket and drapes it on your shoulders. He gathers you hair and pulls it from underneath, "play dumb if you must."

You knit your brows.

"Bat your lashes at him to have your way."

You tighten the blanket around yourself, "I already have."

"To protect me," he tilts his head, "protect yourself, sister. Put yourself first, always."

You clench your jaw.

"He will be kinder if he believes you to be a bimbo."

You scoff, "must I do such a thing?"

Gwayne narrows his eyes, "he is shaming you purposefully out of spite—for me and our father."

The idea makes you queasy because you knew it was true. Your brother was sensible because he got his sense from you, and yet... you find yourself thinking that is it so farfetched for the prince to simply want to show you off proudly? Even in something like this, you were not even being thought of. "And acting a fool will save me from spite?"

He looks at you the way he did whenever you said something stupid. It offends you because it was not a stupid question. He speaks to you, as if you were four, "if he asks you to wear something compromising again, tell him all your dresses are being washed."

You chuckle dryly, "you honestly think he would believe such a blatant lie?"

"He need not have to," he scoffs, "it's not like he'll go through the trouble of inspecting your closet." He places a hand on your arm, "come. I will walk you to your room."

Something unpleasant bubbles up your throat as Gwayne leads you out. As you exit his chambers, you pull away and choke out, "do you think me a fool, devil?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes, "do not be-"

"Do you truly think that I am slowwitted and senseless?"

Your ears ring because of how says your name. You step back when he tries to take your arm again. Gwayne raises a finger and a brow, "I've had a long day. I do not wish to quarrel."

"And I have not?!" you quip, "answer the question!"

He says your name again, firmer, as though you were a petulant child.

"Just fucking tell me!" you snap.

"Gods!" he wipes his face, "you're acting fucking stupid, I'll tell you that!"

You scoff and shove him with all your might. It barely makes him recoil, but you get your point across, especially when you walk away.

Gwayne sighs and calls your name, following after you.

"I hate you!" you spit back, unwilling to turn back as you feel your eyes begin to water.

"I did not mean it," he calls, quickly coming up to your side, "why would you ask me something you clearly know is not-"

"Then why would you reduce me as such?" you stop in your tracks to glare at him.

Gwayne freezes and scowls back, "why do you think I tell you anything?"

"Stupidity will not save me, you fucking idiot," you blurt back, doing your best to hold back your tears.

"It will fucking save you from scheming rats," he grabs your arms and shakes you gently.

You shake your head as tears stream down your cheek.

"H-"

"Do not make me."

He purses his lips.

"You know I will do it if you tell me to," you mutter, "do not make me."

Guilt eats him whole as you weep. It never gets easier. You'd think that he'd be indifferent to it by now, but he knows the great effort you put in withholding your emotions. It hurts him even more, if anything. He sighs in defeat, dropping his head before wiping your cheeks. He attempts to hush you.

You only further fall apart, "I would be remembered as a stupid, dying girl."

He speaks your name, as if to correct you.

"Please don't leave," you mumble weakly.

"Listen to me-"

"No, promise me you won't le-"

"I am heir to Oldtown," he interrupts, "my place can never be at your side."

"So you forsake me now?"

"Listen," he speaks firmly, "you are my twin sister. There is nothing I have not shared with you, and you know this."

You look down for a moment then shake your head, "I wish you kept a few things to yourself..."

Gwayne releases a breath at your words. He leans down to look you in the eye, "says the woman who bares love bites on her neck for all to see."

You shove him away and tighten your arms around yourself, "ass. That's different."

He rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips, "how?"

"I did not chose this," you mutter.

His expression falls. He balls his hands into fists, "I would call our house to banner for you."

You scoff, looking away, "don't be ridiculous."

"An affront to my twin is worse than one to myself," he points a finger to the ground.

"I am his wife," you look back to him.

"And I am a man of honor," he proclaims, "if he kills me, then all will know I died protecting my sister from his malice."

"You idiot," you shake your head at him, "do you think the people would believe the words of a prince or a dead man?"

"A princess."

You stare at him.

"With a tender heart," he takes your arm, leading you off.

You take a moment before responding, "you mean a stupid, dying princess."

"You are not dying," he gives you a serious look.

"We are all dying."

He sighs, "a jolly thought."

"I am dying sooner than you howev-"

"No," he interrupts, "you will outlive me. I will die in battle."

You glare at him, "we cannot both be yearning for death, moron."

"I do not yearn no more than you do," he raises a brow.

You stare at him for a moment. He is in denial. You almost tell him that you still pray the same prayer he caught you praying all those nights ago. You do not.

"You will get better, sister," he says, "I simply won't allow you not to."

You look away, "ever imperious."

His expression slips for a moment as he imagines a world without his twin. It is so grotesque, he cannot bear it. He hides behind humor, "you mean charismatic, dashing, and valiant."

"And stupid."

"And incredibly well-spoken, witty, charming-"

"Shut it."

"-attractive, gallant, seemly—"

You bid each other good night with a smile. Neither of you knew how broken your spirits were after your conversation though, and you never will.

Your head lies heavy on your pillow. You are unsure if you are grateful or resentful that you sleep tonight by yourself.

Meanwhile, Daemon is startled awake by the words of his subordinate. He sets his cup of ale down and chuckles in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at one of the three men he had been drinking with, "what?"

The man clarifies, shifting in his seat adjacent his commander, "you've changed since being wed, my prince. For the better."

The prince chuckles yet again, "pray, tell."

Someone else answers for him, "you have been more gracious during drill training."

Daemon's brows quirk.

"And you have been more forgiving as of late," another blurts.

The first who spoke finally says, "you do not drink with us as often as before. This is the first since you've gotten married."

He scoffs and shakes his head, "so. You think I've grown soft?"

The three immediately straighten up and even manage to muster in unison, "no, commander."

Daemon downs his ale and shakes his head, "I'll show you soft."

The next morn, the queen's words repeat in your mind as you awaken. Retreat in what you love. What was it that you loved? You think of Gwayne, but he is set to leave, Alicent, but you do not wish to burden her with your woes... your father...

Oh... your mother. You could retreat in her.

You sit up and rub your face when your servants enter to wake you.

You lose your resolve to light a candle at the temple at when you realized you'd be dying girl retreating to her dead mother. Pathetic.

By the time your servants are helping you fix your hair, you ask them, "if you could do whatever you wanted for a day, what would you do?"

The servants turn to each other then break into giggles. One says, "I would spend a day with my Gwilym."

You watch them in the mirror as they squeal under their breath.

You turn to your nails. You cannot retreat into Daemon.

After they're finished squealing, the other speaks, "mmm. I might go foraging for fruits and flowers."

You lift your head upon hearing that.

"And if I had my pay that day, I'd buy myself some lemon cake."

Your lips part at the idea, "you absolute wit." You turn to her as much as you could as she fixed your hair, "what a brilliant idea."

She chuckles and curtsies, "thank you, milady."

By the time your ward comes, you're already at the door, eager to greet him.

He examines your smile. His brows knit and belly feels uneasy as you take his arm.

You narrow your eyes at his face, doing your best to distinguish who exactly you were face to face with. You forget if it was Arryk with the longer beard or Erryk. You mumble as you make a face, "Erryk?"

"Yes," he nods, feeling stomach rolls, "how are you, my princess?"

You grin, squeezing his steel clad arm as much as you could, "oh, how good of me to get it right. I am glad to have guessed well."

Erryk chuckles under his breath, "you wound me. Am I not set apart in your eyes?"

You stiffen at his expression. You mistake the softness in his eyes for hurt, which is why you release his arm and begin to apologize, "oh, ser. I do not mean to offend, I-"

Erryk raises his hands, "no, my lady. Twas a jest."

Your eyes widen at the clarification. You laugh awkwardly, "ah... apologies."

"Nay," he shakes his head, "I apologize. I do not wish to cause you discomfort."

You huff and give a curt nod, "then," you take his arm again, "I ask that you humor me today, ser Erryk."

His brows furrow. He is intrigued.

"I..." you trail off, gathering your resolve, "wish to go out and pick flowers today." you profess with a soft smile. You raise a finger, "I am am not a fussy passenger. I do not mind sitting in front or behind you on horseback, but I fear I do not know how to control a horse on my own very well," you look away in thought, "we do not have to go very far out of King's Landing, so if it is not possible to get a horse, I will not complain if we walk."

Erryk finds himself smiling as you continue to justify yourself.

"I would not take very long to pick flowers, but if I do," you turn back to him, "I would not refute you if you think we must away."

He nods at your words, "have you broken fast yet?"

You both walk off. You shake your head, "I have not. But I will be quick!"

He shakes his head, "my brother mentioned that you do not like eating alone. If it be agreeable with you, we can break fast together."

You stop in your tracks upon hearing this, "ser Arryk mentioned this?"

Erryk simply nods.

The thought pinches your heart, "it... it was a passing comment. I did not think it noteworthy."

His brows knit at your expression, "do not be so surprised. It is our duty to care for you."

Care for you. You turn to your feet, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. It takes a moment for you to comport yourself, but then you manage turn back at him and smile, "how the gods have blessed me."

His gut reacts to your smile. He releases a breath to calm himself, "we can pick flowers after breaking fast, my princess."

You gasp, "so you agree?!"

Erryk face falls in confusion.

"You would allow me to pick flowers?!" you pull away, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

"I..." his mouth hangs low, "I do not allow you."

You tilt your head, chuckling in confusion.

"If you instructed me to bring you the moon, I would do my best to claim it for you."

You laugh. You laugh because you miss his sincerity, for it is unfamiliar. You laugh because you only know the kindness of your brother, who cherishes you dearly, yet ridicules you in the same breath. This is why you say, "do not mock me, ser. It is not a crime to enjoy picking flowers."

You expect him to reply the way your twin does: 'I did not say it was a crime,' but you are taken aback by the novelty of his response. Erryk says, "the crime lies with whom would mock such a gentle soul."

You are glad he does not wait for you to respond, because you did not know if you had anything to respond with.

Erryk is silent as you eat in the solar. At first, it was because he second guessed his offer to break fast with you, as it felt so obvious that he was overstepping. But then it was because he was enamored by you and the great many tales you share of eating with your family, picking flowers with your siblings, swimming in rivers with your brother. He did not expect such a temperate outpour from you. He tells himself that he must do all he can to preserve it.

He is selfish in wanting to forfeit a horse. He knows soon enough his brother will come to have his shift, and he wants to keep all your stories to himself; walking will make his time with you longer. At the same time, he fears your body might give in if you were to walk very far, so he settles that you ride on horseback and that he lead your horse on foot.

He is glad of his choice, for had he been on horseback with you, he would not have seen the way your face shone at the sight of the meadow upon reaching it. The moment is quickly fleeting however, and he soon jolts to catch you when you nearly leap off the horse.

Erryk helps you down and is soon forgotten as you run off to gather flowers.

He follows after you with no sense of urgency. He allows you to frolic to your hearts content while he slowly leads the horse towards your general direction.

"ERRYK!" you gasp in horror. It is so sudden, he releases his reins and runs towards you.

"My prin-"

"We do not have a basket!" you slap a hand on your forehead, "I am doomed."

He freezes at your words, debating if that is truly the cause of your distress.

"I am doomed to pick flowers only until my hands are full," you sigh and shake your head. You frown at him and point, "but just over there I see a hundred flowers I wish to bring back home with me."

Erryk's forehead curls but then he realizes you were serious. He finds himself chuckling before sighing in relief.

You scowl, "and you mock me again"

He chuckles louder, placing a hand on his breastplate, "I do not mock! I merely find amusement in such an issue so easily solved."

You scoff, "pray, tell how would you solve my issue, ser knows-a-lot?"

Erryk belly laughs. He shakes his head and offers his hand, "I will hold your flowers for you."

Any trace of offense instantly disappears. You perk and step forward, "oh! I have been blind!"

He tries to take the flowers from you but then he's frozen in place as you suddenly begin tucking in his beard.

"Indeed," you snicker, "blind as a bat."

You are both covered in flowers when you return to the Keep, him more than you, for Erryk's skill in securing flowers in people's hair was not nearly as good as yours. Most of what he had put in your brown hair had fallen when you reached the gates. The rest are threatened off by the wind as he helps you down the horse. His on the other hand—

You chuckle, catching a flower that slipped from your head, placing it by Erryk's ear, "they should call you the knight of flowers, ser."

He bows, "I would be honored to be known as such."

"Oh, gods."

You both turn upon hearing the voice.

Gwayne looks at Erryk as though he was stabbed on the side, then turns to you, "you've victimized the poor man."

You roll your eyes.

"-held him captive and tortured him with pretty things," your twin points a finger as he walks towards you, "no wonder you could not be found. You were doing evil things."

You shove your brother, but he dodges.

He makes a face, "laggardly fellow."

You turn to Erryk then point at your brother, "why do you delay? Seize him at once!"

Gwayne gasps, placing a hand on his chest, "behold: the cruel princess."

Your upper lip curls, "the ugly thing insults your lady," you shoot Erryk a look, "apprehend him!"

Erryk watches the two of you bicker, unsure if he should, in fact, apprehend Ser Gwayne.

When he does not, your brother says again, "behold!" the auburn haired man gestures vaguely, "your cruelty inspires no loyalty from you— aw!"

You snatch your his ear and pull him down. You drag your brother all the way to a crate and force him down, "I'll show you cruel."

"Do not think— AW!" Gwayne clutches his cheek when you slap him.

"Silence or your torture will be more severe," you hiss, promptly placing flowers you still had on hand on his head.

Though Gwayne grumbles the whole time, he makes no attempt to save himself from the proclaimed torture. Very truly, he loathed it so when you made a dolly out of him, but after you sobbed so bitterly when he fled you one instance when you were still children, he could never stomach the thought of attempting such a thing again.

And— he catches the way your lips tug upward, you only ever smiled the way you did now when you were torturing him. Still, he cannot help his scowl when you grin at him to behold your work.

You pinch his cheeks, "my lovely twin."

Gwayne groans and swats your hands away, glaring as he stands, "I abhor you, sister."

You giggle and take his arm, "and I do so love deeply, my brother."

"Unhand me," he says flatly.

"You cannot command a princess, you lowly lord," you snuggle into his arm.

Gwayne turns to Erryk, "retrieve your thing."

Erryk opens his mouth, but then catches the look on your face. He is powerless against your pup-like expression. He clears his throat, "my shift has ended, ser. I will notify my brother at once to see what can be done."

Gwayne's jaw drops.

You throw your head back in a laughter.

He scoffs, turning to you, "how uselessly loyal you've made him."

"What is the meaning of this?"

You three turn. You pull away from your brother upon seeing Daemon. He is covered in dirt, and blood, and anger.

He glares at you, "why is it I find you here twice, wife?" He scrutinizes the flowers on Erryk's beard and hair, then quips harshly as he turns to your brother, "should you not be waiting on me?"

"Why do you think I am here?" you mutter, not missing a beat. You walk over to him, and he tries to intimidate you with his expression.

Gwayne and Erryk are ready to act but then Daemon's face falters when you grab your skirt and try to wipe some of the dirt off his face.

The truth, of course, is that you were not waiting on your husband; him finding you here was simply a coincidence, but the genuine concern that clouds your features makes it the lie indistinguishable.

He is so wholly bewildered by your gentle touch, he is unable to react.

You release your skirt and wipe his cheek with your long sleeve, "I shall have a bath drawn for you." You take his hand, "come, I-"

He pulls out of your grasp.

You expect him to lash out on you. He does not.

"I have a council meeting to attend."

A line forms between your brows when catch the blood on his armor, "but you are hurt."

Daemon is stoic. He stares at the lone flower by your ear, "it is not mine."

You release a soft breath and nod. A gust of wind makes you aware of the bud by your temple. You pull the flower out of your hair and stare at it for a moment. You show it to Daemon, who spares but a moment's glance at it. He involuntarily pulls his head back when you place the flower in his hair.

You are unfazed by the look he gives you. You secure the flower then swipe the dirt on his chin, "I will make sure your bath is finished after your meeting."

It is your turn to be taken aback. You freeze when he catches your wrist before you pull away. "Wait for me," he mumbles.

You raise your brows.

He does not repeat himself.

You nod slowly, "I shall... after having the servants dra-"

"Your princess requires you to accomplish a task for her," Daemon looks past you, looking between Erryk and Gwayne. He grits his teeth, pulling you toward him, "do it."

You look over your shoulder, "please inst-"

"They know what to do, wife," Daemon blocks your vision, "tis I your attentions must be fixed upon."

[endless-ineffabilities]

eclipsed (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)

You loved him. He didn't feel the same. Until everything changed – but is it too late?

main masterlist ▪︎ word count: 1.7k

a/n: I envisioned modern Aemond as I was writing this. Also, the usual taglist is sadly not included for this spontaneous oneshot. I trust that the angst will find you if it's meant to be!

Aemond Targaryen was once everything to you. 

Your guiding light. Your sun and your stars. You knew you had a heart, you knew it was beating true, because it worshipped him with such a ferocity that would put a devotee to shame. Nothing and no else compared. You would have been content to simply exist in his orbit, to watch as he lived and loved.

He loved you too. You knew that. But as a brother loved a sister, as a friend loved a friend. 

And all kinds of love were meant to appear dim and pale in comparison to what he felt for Alys.

He doted on her. She was everything to him. She was his guiding light, his sun and stars. You could never compare. 

It was an unbearable truth, one you had tried for too long to ignore, but there came a time when you reached your breaking point. One evening, you asked to meet him. You knew you were about to ask for so much more – you were asking for something he could never offer.

You were asking to be seen. 

You could no longer sit idly by, watching the sun shine on the world while the moon was left in the shadows.

When you confessed, his reaction was as callous as it was predictable. Aemond laughed in disbelief, as though your words were at the end of some punchline. “Okay,” he said dismissively, “I love you too.”

“No.” You shook your head, looking away. You had to bite your lip to keep the tears from falling. “I love you, Aemond.”

“Yes, I know,” he smiled, taking a step closer, grimacing when you put your hands up to stop him from reaching out for you.

“I’m in love with you.” You had to take a deep breath before you continued. “I love you. Maybe you knew all along. Maybe you didn’t. But you have to know that.”

There it was, suspended in the atmosphere between the two of you, before the inevitable crash and crumble. 

“I don’t get it, darling.” He exhaled roughly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You love me?”

“What don’t you get?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but you couldn’t be anything but honest. 

“I… this is… but you’re like a sister to me!” 

“Oh, fuck off, Aemond.” You waved his words away, trying to dampen just how brutal they stung. Just how much they cut deep. 

“Well, then,” he sneered, his eyes darkening with a defensive anger. “Thanks for that.”

“Is that…” You met his eyes once more, that heart-wrenching shade of blue. “Do you have anything else to say?”

His gaze hardened. “I’m with Alys.”

“I know that.”

“I love Alys.” He spat the words out like they were meant to be a scolding. Didn’t you know this? What exactly were you expecting from him? That he would cry and take you in his arms? I love you too… I love you too… I always have…

“I know that too.” The first bitter tear fell down your cheek. You inhaled sharply, wiping at your face with the back of your sleeve. You began pacing in an attempt to get a hold of your nerves. You did not want to have a complete breakdown in front of him. But then again, the worst has already happened. How much more humiliation could there possibly be?

“I’m sorry, darling.” His voice softened as he reached for you again, and this time, when you resisted, he simply caught your arms gently and pulled you against him. “Truly, I am. You have no idea.”

He held you, however long you needed to be held. He was good like that, he always has been. But it felt like a cruel comfort – mere scraps of affection when you wanted the entire feast. 

“I do love you, you know,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soothing as it broke your heart anew. “Always, I promise.”

And he did. 

But it was never going to be enough.

You were the moon to his sun, forever watching from a distance, knowing you would never truly share the same sky.

Aemond rarely saw you after that night. A week passed, then two, then a month. The silence between you stretched longer than he had expected, but still he thought nothing of it. Perhaps you were simply giving each other space, allowing the awkwardness to settle.

But then, when he tried seeking you out, there were no responses. He found out from a mutual friend that you had moved to another region. There was a promising work opportunity, apparently, one that had been too good to pass up.

You just conveniently failed to mention this to him. 

You drifted from his life without warning, and Aemond was not prepared for how deeply it would hurt. How lost he would feel. He was out of orbit, reeling, mourning the ghost of someone who still lived, but seemingly no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Alys was not blind to it. But there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as Aemond’s light began to dim, gradually fading until it barely reached her. She had no choice but to stand by as he became a hollow version of the man whom she thought loved her so fiercely.

An entire year passed before Aemond saw you again. 

It happened by chance, or perhaps some cruel twist of fate. You were there, with your adorable flushed cheeks and smile as bright as the sun. He did not know what to expect, but there you were, hugging him like the long lost friend he had become.

You looked better than ever, while he was barely getting by. 

“You look like you could use some sun, Aem,” you remarked lightheartedly, noticing how pale he got. “I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

You appeared carefree, but all Aemond could feel was the weight of the past year pressing down on him. 

“You left me,” he spat out before he could help himself. It sounded like an accusation, like a wound that never healed. How could you?

“I did leave, yes,” you say tentatively, confused by the venom in his tone. “But I don’t think I left you.”

“What would you call it then?” His tone was bitter, bordering on desperate. 

“I moved away,” you shrugged. “It happens. Friends move away, they move on.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” he muttered. His hands clenched at his sides when what he truly wanted was to reach for you.  

“I had to,” you replied, your voice quieter. “It was the only way.” 

Aemond frowned, his gaze fixed on your face, searching for something he couldn’t quite name. "The only way for what?"

You spoke again, slower, “It was the only way to get over you.”

He was hanging by a thread, and right then, he became untethered.

“I loved you, Aemond,” you continued. “And I couldn’t just stay there and watch you be in love with someone else. I’m sorry, but I had to leave. It was the only thing I could do to save myself.”

Your words hit him like a blow. He stared at you, the one who had been everything to him once – his anchor, his confidante, the one constant in his life. If only he hadn’t been too goddamn stupid to realise it then.

You reached over and squeezed his hand. He looked down and without thinking, he interlaced his fingers with yours. He felt you hesitate for a moment – a brief second where you considered pulling away – before you gave in.

The old you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. The old you would have held onto Aemond with everything you had, believing that if you just stayed close enough, he’d realise what was right in front of him.

But you were different now. Everything was different – no sunshine, just grey – because you said that you loved him.

Loved. Not anymore.

The roles were reversed, and maybe he deserved it. The bitter irony wasn’t lost on him as you pulled your hand away, offering him a soft, understanding smile. 

“And Alys?” you asked suddenly, your voice gentle but curious. "How is she?”

He stiffened. A part of him thought that staying with Alys was his path forward, the thing that would make sense of the chaos in his life. But it hadn’t. Not really. 

“We’re not together anymore,” Aemond finally admitted.

You blinked, visibly surprised. “Oh. I’m… I’m so sorry, Aemond. I didn’t know.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t… meant to be.”

You studied him, your brows furrowing in concern. “Even so, I know it’s hard,” you said softly, your voice full of empathy. “Breakups are… They’re never easy. But there’s someone out there for everyone. I truly believe that. I mean… I found someone, didn’t I?”

His entire body tensed, his breath hitching as his mind tried to process the full weight of your statement. You had found someone. You had moved on. There was the proof, hitting him right in the face. 

He had lost you. For good.

“You… found someone,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it more real.

“Yes. I did.” There was a tenderness in your voice, but it only twisted the knife deeper. “He’s wonderful, Aemond. He’s kind, supportive. I didn’t think I’d find something like this after – ” you paused, glancing away for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “after everything.”

“Are you in love?” The words came out before he could stop them, his voice tight with something like despair. He hated himself for asking, for needing to know, but the question was out there now, and he couldn’t take it back.

“Aemond.”

“Can you tell me this, at least? Do you… love him?”

There was a long pause, as if you were choosing your words carefully, and when you finally spoke, the answer was clear. “More than anything.”

You had become someone else’s sun. Someone else’s guiding light.

And he was the moon, forced to watch and drift in shadow. 

For the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen understood what it meant to lose everything.

[rosepinks-world]

CHERRY WAVES | logan howlett

‘I liked it a first but the more you laughed the crazier I came.’

summary: you and logan are fuck buddies but one day something changes.

fem reader, brief smut, bit of angst at the end, probs ooc but oh well

part two

You’d known Logan about a year now thanks to Wade but you’d been hooking up with him for six months - not that you were counting. It was casual. Friends with benefits. A booty call. Whatever. It wasn’t serious.

To you that was perfect. You had good sex and didn’t have to worry about getting your heart stomped on, that seemed to happen a-lot.

Tonight was no different. You had a routine.

Step 1

He knocked on your door and the minute you answered his lips were on yours roughly attacking them as he pushed you against the wall.

Step 2

He pulled away and looked at you like you were some sort of goddess.

Step 3

“How was your day?” You asked pulling off your top.

“Shit.” He replied as he did the same. Reconnecting your lips

Step 4

With your lips connected you made your way into the bedroom and when you did you backed into the bed falling onto it. You moved up to the headboard so you could lean against it and he followed.

Step 5

Sex.

Except this time it was different. You couldn’t quite tell why but you knew it wasn’t the same.

He kissed you passionately as you secured his body to yours by wrapping your legs around his waist subconsciously grinding against him pulling a low groan from his mouth as he pulled away. You whined pathetically at the loss of him and he cupped your face for comfort. Your lips parted as he reattached his to your stomach going lower and lower…

He ate you out every-time you had sex but something this time felt different. You lifted your hips to let him pull your underwear down and he placed himself happily between your thighs. This time it felt more intimate. The way the scruff of his beard didn’t scratch your inner thighs but rather softly tickled them and the way he gently rubbed the flesh of your hips as he pressed his lips to your clit, gently sucking.

“Fuck.” You say writhing against his mouth.

You could hear the wetness of his saliva and your arousal and the dirtiness of the whole situation turned you on more.

He pulled away for a second, catching his breath and letting his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“You’re so fuckin wet baby.” He shook his head in disbelief and uttered a final compliment before diving back in, “So fuckin hot.”

That did it for you (the addition of his fingers also helped) you could feel your orgasm coming as you grabbed a handful of his hair to steady yourself.

Your moans got louder and louder and as you came you were sure the neighbours could hear you. Your legs were shaking and tears of pleasure coated your eyes. Without thinking (too fucked out to think) you threw your head back and it connected harshly with the headboard. You groaned and Logan immediately raised his head in concern sitting up on his knees.

Instead of being met with a pained expression or even tears he was met with a smile. Your hand was placed on the spot behind your head where you’d hit it and a smile mixed with a wince adorned your beautiful face. The minute you saw him you couldn’t help but laugh.

God your laugh, it always had me whipped.

Unbeknownst to you, the entire time he’d been eating you out he’d been grinding into the mattress, your pleasure turning him on that much, then hearing your laugh tipped him over the edge.

He came in his pants like a fucking teenage boy.

You were so perfect. Everything he could ever want. But you weren’t even his.

“Did you…um?”

He stood up quickly. Gathering his white tank top and jeans slipping them both on.

“I’m gonna have a smoke.” In his rush he almost tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to the door of your very tiny balcony.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Logan was a confident borderline cocky man there was no way he was flipping his shit because he came from just eating you out. There was something more. You pulled on your underwear and grabbed the flannel he’d left on the bed doing the first few buttons up so your boobs were covered. You’d given him at least a couple drags of his cigar on his own so now you decided to join him for the final ones.

He looked at you as you walked out, taking in your appearance.

Fuck.

He loved post sex you.

The flushed face, the messy but still sexy hair, the way you’d always throw on his clothes after. He also loved the way your nipples pierced through his shirt as they were hit with the cold air. That was enough to get him going again.

“What’s going on?” You’d asked pulling his attention from you.

He sighed blowing smoke out of his lips something he knew you loved always going on about how hot it was, “We shouldn’t keep doing this bub.”

Bub. He called everyone that but he only said it to you when he was trying to be caring.

You were hurt. Was the sex not good anymore? Was he seriously that bothered about blowing his load? You played off your hurt with a slight joke.

“What can’t you take it old man?”

He’d normally laugh at that but you were met with his serious yet sympathetic eyes.

“Seriously. We shouldn’t.”

The slight shake of your head the quiver of your lip and the furrow of your eyebrows. You were confused, upset and slightly angry. Logan always knew how to read you.

“Logan? What! Why?”

He sighed handing you his cigar and you awkwardly gave it a puff. He knew you preferred cigarettes. He wanted to smile at the memory of you ranting about how expensive cigars were and that the first time you tried one you almost passed out because no one had told you that you weren’t suppose to inhale them. You spat out the smoke, angrily handing it back to him murmuring about how you ‘hated those fucking things’ he frowned slightly feeling guilty for what he was about to do.

Without any warning, he stood up and walked to the door you quick on his trail.

“Logan! What the fuck? What’s going on?”

He opened the door his back to you but he couldn’t help but whip his head in the direction of your voice. He stared at you more and didn’t think about the words that came out next.

“We can’t keep doing this because I’m falling in love with you.”

Your eyes widened.

“…And that is the last thing any of us need.”

He turned back and walked out. The door slammed shut.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I'm not around

Warnings: angst! mean!Steve, unrequited feelings, one sided feelings, mentions of Steve being in love with Nancy, mentions of death, allusions to suicidal thoughts, mentions of weed and alcohol

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Author's note: I promise, it's gonna get so much better soon, get ready for some much more angst in the next chapter, it's gonna hurt. @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, you're the bestest!!!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The living room is crowded, at least it seems that way to you. You aren’t used to being around so many people. You didn’t want to come here, but you had no choice when both Eddie and Robin had showed up at your house earlier today and practically forced you out of the house.

Now you sit here, sinking deeper and deeper into Steve Harrington’s couch, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. You’re playing with the loose string on the hem of your shirt as you look around the room. Robin is snacking on the m&m’s Eddie had brought as she’s looking through the pictures Jonathan had taken of her and Nancy just now. Eddie is out on the patio, smoking a cigarette and talking to Argyle who will leave for California in two days. Jonathan is staring at the screen watching some music video that is playing on the MTV channel, his pupils are blown and his eyes seem heavy, he is high out of his mind and for once, Nancy doesn’t seem to care, with her legs thrown over his thigh, she’s sipping on the beer that Steve handed to her a few minutes back, she is talking to Robin, unaware of the set of eyes on her. 

You restrain the eye roll as you look at him. 

Steve is sitting on the same couch you do, though with a big distance, you sit at one end and he on the other, far far away from you. You know he doesn’t want you here, you saw the look on his face when Eddie had dragged you into his house, a wave of something had washed over his face, something unpleasant, like he wanted to scrunch his face up in disgust at the sight of you – his mind had already erased your little moment at the Sinclair house, last week. Now you are back to normal. He made a comment, you made a comment and now you both sit there, avoiding each other like the plague. 

Secretly, you watch him though. 

Like you always do. 

And what you are seeing now, only fuels your annoyance and your wish to go home. 

The smile on his face that could never be directed at you, is directed at her. The love and the longing in his eyes that always lingers when she is around. She who had stolen his heart from the very first moment they saw each other. She who had always kept his heart even when she left him for the one she is smiling at now. She who will always be the one he will look at. 

You thought that he was over it, you thought that he was over her. But you were a little blind and maybe he was too when he told Robin that he was over her. He never was, he never will be. You saw the way he looked at her when she patched him up after he was attacked. You saw the way he looked at her in the RV. You heard the things he said to her, how he talked about his dreams that he surely saw her in by his side. 

You also heard the things he said about you when he thought that you were sleeping. You still remember how gut wrenching it felt to hear him say things about you to his ex-girlfriend. 

You huff in silence when his lips curl into a smile and his eyes light up when Nancy throws her head back in laughter. 

God, why are you even here? 

Eddie falls into the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. It feels as though a cloud of smoke had followed him because suddenly, the smell of snacks, fresh air and beer is replaced by it, along with the smell of his cologne.

Right. You’re here because of him. You don’t know why he feels the urge to drag you along to every group hang out. No one wants you around, you don’t even think that Robin wants you here, she barely talked to you since you came here. And the longer you sit in Steve’s living room, with an untouched can of coke on the table in front of you, surrounded by people who most likely cannot stand you or your presence, you wish more and more that Jason should have dragged you down with him. 

You don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere. 

Eddie takes a look around before he turns to you, the smile still lingering, though turning into a softer one when he notices the frown on your face. 

“What’s wrong, sweets?” 

You shake your head a little, trying to give him a smile, “nothing.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, whispering. 

You wonder if that is the reason why he always wants you around, so he can keep checking up on you, so he can make sure that you are okay, that you are still alive and not lying in some ditch after pushing yourself a little too hard while still recovering from surgery. 

Does he care so much because he knows that no one else would? 

Or does he feel like he owes you something because you helped him when it wasn’t even asked of you? 

You nod, “yeah, I just don’t know why I’m here,” you whisper to him, subtly gesturing to this tight friend group that you don’t fit into. 

Eddie is new to this as well, but unlike you, he’s open and friendly with everyone. He surely isn’t as cheerful as he was weeks back. Just like you, he is still recovering, hiding his inner scars from the face of the earth but still, he is trying. Trying to fit into this, and for him, it’s working, for you? Not so much. 

“Well, you’re here because of me,” he grins, tapping your shoulder. 

You huff but smile, looking down at your hands. 

Yeah, you wouldn’t be here otherwise. 

Had you not gone on a walk that one afternoon a few weeks back, you would have never ran into him. Eddie who had been a wanted man at that time, Eddie who was hiding at skull rock, in drenched clothes and with clattering teeth as he shivered like crazy. You remember how scared he looked when you saw him, how he thought that you would rat him out because at that time, you were nothing but acquaintances to each other. – You bought from him a few times but that was all. He always tried to make small talk, throw a few jokes at you, but at that time, he barely got you to laugh. 

You didn’t believe the rumors on the news, not even for a second, not even when Chrissy used to be a close friend of yours. 

You decided to help him, not knowing what else you were getting yourself into, not knowing that it wasn’t just him involved in a world you hadn’t known of yet, at that time. You got him dry clothes, food and the walkie talkie he had begged you for. 

You never expected Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson to show up moments later, though. And least of all, you hadn’t expected Max there. It felt like a surreal dream the moment they started explaining everything to you. The moment you found out the truth about Starcourt, about all the deaths in this town, about the lab, about Henry. 

You had only been allowed to be a part of it because of Max, because of your friendship with the girl you had grown protective of, because she let you help. 

The night in the upside down, the night at the Creel house led you here, into this friend group, into Steve’s house where you certainly don’t belong. 

You don’t know what that nagging yet empty feeling in your chest is, if it’s the trauma that is slowly catching up to you or if it’s from watching him watch her, or if you’re just simply having a bad day but it’s making you feel sick and restless, you want the ground to swallow you up. 

You muster up your greatest smile and flash it at Eddie, “yeah, cause you’re my very best friend.”

He snorts at you, hearing the sarcasm in your voice. 

“Your only best friend is Red.” 

You smile at his nickname for Max. 

“Hey Chica, do you wanna smoke this with me?” 

You don’t even pay attention or look up, not until Eddie chuckles and nudges your shoulder, raising his eyebrows at you to look up and when you do, you find Argyle looking at you with a dopey smile on his face as he holds up a blunt to you. 

Without thinking, you get up with a smile on your lips, “is that even a question?” 

It’s been a long time since you have had anything other than medication in your system, you are in dire need of something that will ease your mind and make you feel more than what you are feeling today. 

You fail to notice the disapproving look on Steve’s face, the way he tensely straightens up, slowly getting up as his brows knit together, more and more, watching in disbelief how you make your way over to Argyle. 

“What the hell, Blondie!?” 

His raised voice startles everyone in the room. Robin looks up from the polaroids in her hands, glancing up at her best friend who is staring at you with angry eyes. Nancy and Jonathan turn to look at Steve before they turn to look at what he is glaring at – or who he is glaring at. 

Argyle and Eddie turn to Steve with confusion on their faces. 

And you, you halt in your tracks, and turn back slowly. Caught off guard by the intense look on his face, you freeze. 

“Are you crazy?” 

You open your mouth to speak, though you shut your mouth again when you realize that these words aren’t directed at you, they’re directed at Argyle. 

“She can’t smoke or drink! Her doctor said it loud and clear, and I warned you before!” He points at him. 

You’re taken aback by his anger, by his words. The fact that he remembered when even you, yourself have forgotten about it. You hate the way your heart flutters at that, you hate the way it makes your stomach feel all tingly. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, just because he remembered. 

You see the way Argyle’s face drops and the way he smacks himself on his forehead, “I forgot, I’m sorry, man,” he looks at you, pulling away the blunt he was just about to give to you. “Sorry, he told me… I wasn’t thinking.” He whispers, a little uncomfortably as a funny look takes over his face. 

Steve warned him? 

“Dude, I forgot too, don’t worry about it,” you pat his arm, giving him an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind mother hen over there, he’s overreacting as always.” You say as though you don’t feel your heart racing over Steve’s outburst. 

“And you.” 

You instantly turn to face him, just like everyone else in the room who watches the scene unfold with curiosity and confusion on their faces. 

You meet his hazel eyes, the ones that are still raging. 

“Stop being so fucking careless!” He snaps, pointing his finger at you now. “You’re getting on my goddamn nerves.” 

He places his hands back on his hips, huffing loudly. 

Your cheeks flush under his gaze, you can feel them burning, your heart beating faster and faster. You don’t know how to feel but all you can think about now is the look in his eyes when he realized that he hurt you back at Lucas’s place the other day, the words he had said to you. 

Despite the giddiness inside of you, you hide your feelings behind a smirk. 

“Wow, you do worry about me, Harrington. You weren’t lying.” 

He squints his eyes at you, nodding at your words with another huff. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. 

Everyone is looking between the two of you, waiting for the bickering to start, the way it always does, but Steve manages to bite his tongue. 

And you surprise the others by holding back your little remarks. 

“And fucking relax, leave Argyle alone, he isn’t responsible for me and neither are you, Lego head. Go and get high, you need to calm down.” 

Jonathan snorts at the nickname, he throws his head back, chuckling loudly as he mumbles ‘Lego head’. Argyle, who already had one too many drags of the blunt he passed around before, is barely holding himself together, threatening to burst into laughter too. 

Steve shoots Jonathan a glare, pointing at him to shut up. 

Nancy looks down, pressing her lips together with an amused look in her eyes. 

Eddie drinks his beer, hiding the smirk behind the can, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Sit your ass down, Blondie and drink your goddamn coke, don’t even think about weed or–”

“No weed, no beer, just fucking coca cola, got it, mom,” you roll your eyes at him and slump back in your previous seat, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He sighs loudly, sitting back down as well, he crosses his legs, giving you the side eye. 

“Goddamn brat,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“I heard that.” 

“Good,” he snaps at you. 

There is no tension in the room, not even awkwardness after this weird moment. If anything, everyone is still amused. 

“Always bickering like an old married couple,” Eddie snickers. 

Steve glares at him, and you, you would have dug your elbow into his side, but he is wounded and still healing. The band aids on his neck are the evidence that they are still bad. He is hiding him, and you wonder if he always will, you ask yourself if he will hide his pain the way you hide yours. 

You don’t even notice that Robin left the room, only when everyone moves on from what just happened and chatter fills the space again, do you take a look around. You furrow your brows when you find her spot empty. 

Argyle and Jonathan leave the room, stepping out into the garden with Nancy following close behind. 

“Are you still in for tomorrow?” You hear Eddie, directing his question at Steve. 

“Yeah, sure.”

You don’t bother to ask and find out what their plans are. 

Robin walks back into her room, with something in her hand. Her eyes are aimed at you, a smile on her lips when she walks towards you. She hands you a drink, a diet pepsi. 

“Here.” 

Your lips part as you stare at the can for a long moment, blinking. You tilt your chin up, looking up at her with big eyes. 

Her smile falls and a frown takes over, “shit, I thought you liked diet pepsi? Was it original?” 

You shake your head at her, taking the can from her hand, “n-no, it’s diet pepsi.” 

She paid attention to you. 

She smiles at you. 

She felt bad watching you sit there and being unable to drink beer or smoke weed with the others. And she remembers that you always asked for pepsi when you were still in the hospital, you hated the teas there and despised the fact that you were only allowed water. 

“I thought you liked coke, Blondie.”

Robin rolls her eyes at Steve. 

“It’s not my favorite,” you shrug, turning to look at him. “I prefer pepsi.” 

He squints his eyes at you, “so when you stole my coke the other day, you did it just to–”

“Get back at you, yeah. Cause you stole my coffee.” 

“When did he steal your coffee?” Robin asks. 

“When I came to family video to rent a movie–”

“Oh, you little liar,” Steve scoffs at you, “she did not rent a movie, she didn’t even come to look for one.”

A smirk tugs at your lips, if there’s something that you love more than the drink in your hand, it’s to get on his nerves. 

“Says who? I really wanted one but the customer service sucks when this one isn’t around,” you point at Robin. 

Eddie chuckles, turning to look at Steve who is glaring at you, before a smirk appears on his face, his hazel eyes twinkling with smugness. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t want to rent a movie, honey. You were there because you wanted to see me,” he says, cockily as he lets his eyes move from your face, down to your body and back up to meet your eyes. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the way he just looked at you. You don’t squirm in your seat, but you surely would if the others weren’t around. You grow flustered beneath his stare but you have come to learn how to hide it – Steve Harrington will never see you blushing over him. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you did just want to see him, because you always do, you always want to see him. No matter how much he hates you, no matter how much he despises you, you can’t help but want him, even if you continue to lie about it to yourself to stay sane. 

Steve Harrington had always been your demise – from the first glance. 

You couldn’t help but grow fascinated with him, watching him from afar with eyes the shape of your favorite sunglasses. You couldn’t help but care for him, even when he couldn’t stand you. 

Sometimes you feel like a creep, watching him and adoring everything about him, from his sun kissed skin, to his beautiful eyes, to his perfect hair, to that one smile that he blesses only those around him that he cares about – something that you will never get. 

Sometimes it’s hard to look into his eyes because every time you do look for a little too long, you feel like dying because suddenly, you see the world with different eyes, you see something beautiful, because he is in it and when you look away, when he is gone, it feels anything but.

Steve wouldn’t even bat an eye if you were gone. He wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t around. 

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed by the way he looks at you, by his presence, by all of this. You are in his space, you are invading, his home, his friend group, his safe place. The reminder of it, that you don’t belong here, lies heavy on your heart and you feel the urge to run away but you cannot give yourself away so easily, knowing that it would be awfully noticeable if you suddenly left after what he just said. 

So you put on a mask, the way you always do. 

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you smirk, tilting your head at him, “I mean no one else would come to see you, I took pity on you.” 

He clenches his jaw, his smirk falling into a frown. 

“Keep your pity to yourself, Blondie. I’d rather never see you again than see you when I don’t have to.”

You know how he feels about you, you know what he thinks of you, yet every single insult, every jab at you feels like a punch to your gut. But this, this was a punch to your heart. 

You know he wouldn’t grieve you if you died at the Creel house, but to know that he might have felt relieved to never having to see you again, hurts you more than you want to admit. 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie snaps at him as his brown eyes fill with anger at his words. 

Robin rolls her eyes, shaking her head at Steve in disappointment. 

But he keeps his eyes on you, struggling to read you, struggling to look past that smirk that is still going strong. 

“Well, I’ll put you out of your misery, Lego head,” you say as you place the drink on the table before you get up. 

Robin furrows her brows, looking you up and down, “what are you doing?” 

“I’m leaving.” You try not to sound bitter or hurt. “I’m getting tired and I forgot my meds at home.” 

Steve looks away from you, feeling a rush of guilt. 

“I’ll drive you–”

You cut Eddie off, shaking your head at him, “no, I’m gonna walk, I need some fresh air.”

Eddie looks at you worriedly, “sweets, I don’t want you to walk by yourself.”

“Eddie, I’m okay, I don’t get dizzy anymore,” you say, trying to smile at him. “I promise, I’ll call you later tonight.” 

He still looks unsure, not wanting to let you go like this. 

But he can tell that you want to be alone, right now, so despite his worry, he leans back again and nods begrudgingly. 

“Okay..” 

You walk out of the room, biting back the bitterness on your tongue, trying to swallow down the pain. You rush through the hallway and open the door, you only manage to take one step out before you hear footsteps behind you. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that Eddie being the stubborn guy that he is will try to convince you to stay, but when you turn around, it’s not Eddie’s brown eyes that you find yourself looking into, it’s Steve’s and it catches you off guard a little. 

He stops in front of you, his eyes scan your face and he huffs a little when he runs his fingers through his hair. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’s guilt and worry in his eyes. 

You hold onto the door, ready to escape whatever pain he will put you through again.

“Listen uh, that was mean,” he starts, now struggling to look into your eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, tugging at his hair. “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

You blink.

You swallow as you keep on looking at him with smugness, to hide the pain. 

“It’s okay, no need to hide the truth from me, you were just saying what you were feeling, right?” 

He opens his eyes and when he faces you again, he looks at you, really looks at you. He tries to find a hint of pain in your features or hurt in your eyes, but there is nothing. All he can see is the coldness in them. 

Nothing he could ever do or say would hurt you – at least, that is what he believes, what he always believed. 

“Right.” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks. 

“Good,” you nod and you tear your eyes away from him, unable to look at him any longer as you feel your heart cracking more and more.

“Y-You don’t have to go, Blondie.” He stops you once again, holding himself back from taking your hand. 

You slowly turn around and he still struggles to read you, even when you stop smirking, even when you only look at him with a straight face, not saying anything back. 

“But if you want to leave, no one’s gonna stop you.”

You see the indifference in his eyes, the coldness that is only there when he looks at you. 

Yeah, you know no one would. 

How can you care so much about someone that cares so little about you? 

How can you want him so bad when all he wants for you is to disappear? 

How can he worry one second and hate you in the other? 

How can you long for him after every hurtful thing that he said to you? 

You take a step away from him, blinking as you feel your eyes starting to burn. 

“Bye, Steve.” 

You turn around before he can even open his mouth, and you slam the door shut behind you because you don’t want to hear his voice. 

You walk away with tears in your eyes. 

You wish you didn’t come here today, every moment spent with him makes you want him even more, makes you hate yourself even more. 

You don’t go home, no, you can’t stand to be in a house that resembles nothing but loss. 

You turn the other way, towards Hawkins cemetery. 

You just need to vent. 

Even if only into the void. 

♡

tagging only friends & mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @livosssblog

[grandline-fics]

Could you please write a gn reader with Crocodile, Kid and Buggy hurting them while controlled?

DESCRIPTION: They hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit

WARNINGS: angst, descriptions of injury, hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Zoro, Law, Shanks, Mihawk | Luffy, Ace, Sabo | Crocodile, Kid

WORDS: 1,946

A/N: Thank you for requesting! This seems to be a popular request. I mean who doesn't love some hurt/comfort themed angst. Only managed to get something thought up for with Crocodile and Kid. I'll get one for Buggy done soon and include it with one of the other characters requested. Hope you like what I came up with!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

CROCODILE

Crocodile was never a stranger to violence or bloodlust when the fighting got intense but this was intense. This was all consuming and possessive, this anger and desire to obliterate anything and everything in his path took hold of him so fiercely. In the haze he was faintly aware of voices calling for him, trying to appeal to his better nature, urging him to calm before he hurt those he was allied with but he didn’t listen, part of him didn’t want to listen. It had been a while since he got to truly go all out like this. Slowly he felt the violent waves coursing through his blood begin to pull back and clarity began to return to his mind and then he felt the familiar warmth of your body against his. Crocodile looked down at you and for a moment it would have been easily mistaken for a soft embrace between you both. 

However as he came to his senses he finally saw the hazy, unfocused look in your pained eyes and felt the slowly dampening of his shirt cuff that met the base of his hook. The sense of dread that overcame Crocodile felt so much worse and far more intense than his earlier rush of unexplained savagery. He could hear the slow almost rhythmic dripping of your blood hitting the ground and it mixed painfully with your struggled breaths, weak and thready. He moved to get a better look only to stop when your shaking hand touched his cheek. Crocodile reluctantly met your gaze and tensed to see you let out a shuddering sigh of relief and your trembling lips fell into smile. “Cr…croc…y-you’re back. Good.”

Good? Good?! Even now you were concerned for him? It seemed as though you had forced yourself to stay conscious long enough to ensure he’d returned to his usual self because as soon as you’d confirmed it your already weakened body slumped against his, completely unconscious. Immediately Crocodile sprung into action, barking commands for any and all those around him to clean up the destruction he’d caused while those that had medical training saw to you first and any others he’d hurt second. You were his priority. When he’d safely transferred you to the care of the medics while also having to remove his hook from his arm he turned to those he trusted most to explain what had happened. 

It turned out someone from his past held a grudge fiercer than he’d given them credit for and sent one of their subordinates to deal with Crocodile for his past doings. While they had only been told to kill the former Warlord, the subordinate’s Devil Fruit had presented a much more enticing method to inflict Crocodile’s punishment. While disguised, they’d managed to get close enough to place Crocodile under their influence and command him to cause as much carnage as possible. The Devil Fruit user had been dealt with when they tried to escape Cross Guild but even then their power had a time limit and in that time, Crocodile had wrought destruction that only proved how fearsome a man he really was under the fine clothes and practiced patience your influence had formed in him over the years. 

Through the time you lay sleeping, Crocodile remained sat at his desk in the bedroom deciding to throw himself into the distraction of work while also remaining close. He still refused to reattach his hook. Every time he so much as looked at it, despite it having been cleaned and polished so intensely he could only see it still covered in your blood and it actually sickened him. Had it been anyone else he’d gored with his signature prosthetic he wouldn’t have bat an eye. Hell he didn’t even feel guilty about the others who’d been injured in his rampage, it was only how he nearly killed you that haunted him. He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you’d woken until you were trying to sit up in the bed. Immediately he dispersed his body into sand and was across the room in an instant. “Slowly, love. Just sit back and rest.”

“Where’s your hook?” You asked weakly, eyebrows pulling together in confusion as you let him coax you back against the propped up pillows. Crocodile studied your face carefully but the small scowl on his lips told you he wasn’t going to answer. “This has really shaken you, hasn’t it?”

“You’re the only thing that I’d consider that makes me vulnerable. To be the one responsible for this…” he paused to glanced down, knowing the severe injury now hidden by your clothes and bandages. “I suppose even I can be shakable in those circumstances.”

“I understand. Just don’t let it haunt you for too long, okay?” You asked, leaning in to his touch when his hand cupped your face gently. Crocodile took a long steadying breath and nodded, pulling his hand away from your face to reach into the inside of his coat and hesitantly pulled out his hook and into view. Through it all he watched your expression carefully in case the sight of it drew out your true subconscious feelings of fear over the fact this was the weapon that could have killed you. Instead you gently took it to assist reattaching it, smiling wide when it clicked into place. 

KID

“What’s happened now?!” You shouted over the high pitched shriek of Kid’s magnetic powers kicked into a fiercer frequency. You and the rest of the crew had engaged in a full scale battle that had been going smoothly. Your opponents weren’t pushovers but they weren’t exactly the strongest people you’d ever fought. It was enough to be fun and still break a slight sweat, the perfect balance you thought. Just as things seemed to have been winding down, Kid’s outburst of mounting power erupted as if from nowhere with no discernible reason why. You let out a gasp of shock and dodged just in time as a large shard of metal cut through the air. You looked to your second in command, the one who’d been closest to Kid through the fight. “Killer?!”

“Something’s up with Kid!” Killer shouted, also taking cover. “We took the bastard down but he got one last hit in. That’s when Kid started acting weird!” You took a chance and looked out from around the wall you’d ducked behind to see Kid’s face was completely unreadable but the overwhelming need for destruction and violence was suffocating. You’d experienced Kid at his angriest but this was something else entirely. Normally he’d get lost in the fight and yell but it unnerved you to hear nothing from him and see his usually burning gaze dulled and darkened. This wasn’t Kid. This wasn’t your Kid. Licking your dry lips, you tightened your hands into fists and wordlessly caught Killer’s attention once more. Silently you both seemed to have the same thought. With a firm nod you both broke out from your covers and acted.

Kid’s head was throbbing and his vision blurred as it slowly began to sharpen again. This felt like the world’s worst hangover combined with being hit with a full Marine ship. His limbs all but screamed in agony and he couldn’t shake the ringing in his ears. Dully he could make out the muffled yells of someone calling his name. In whoosh, his hearing snapped back to normal as Killer bellowed out his name. “Kid! Snap out of it before you kill them, please!” 

Looking over he saw Killer pinned against the wall, his blades magnetised to the surface and stopping him from breaking free. Confused about why his power would restrain his best friend he quickly broke it, watching Killer drop to his ground. The second he was free, Killer sped across the distance and barrelled hard into his Captain in the hopes of releasing his metal hand. Only now did Kid recall Killer’s yell and he looked down to see you lying at his feet. Horror filled Kid as he saw you bloodied and unconscious, your body being squeezed in his bulked metal hand. Immediately he let go of you and staggered back. No, this couldn’t be happening. How did this happen?

Through you time recovering Kid kept his distance. At first while you were unconscious and he knew you’d be okay with time he’d tried to force himself to act like this hadn’t affected him. The crew had reassured him that he wasn't to blame for any of it and on the outside he’d agreed but that first night when he went to check on your still sleeping form he all but broke down. Of what he could see of your body was flared with dark purple and your face was twisted in discomfort. Everyone in the ship had suffered horrible injuries in the past, that was nothing new and to be expected. As much as he tried to find reason behind it and use his bravado to seem like the same old Kid, he felt sick to his stomach at his actions. The guilt was unbearable and he couldn’t bring himself to be near you and was secretly glad you’d been put on the strictest bed rest until you were given a full all clear. Kid had planned to use that time to get his head on straight. Sadly it never came. 

Every night since that day he hurt you he was plagued with nightmares. Some just filled with the sight of your body crushed by his hand. Others took the already painful experience further and twisted it to the point he’d dreamt he’d killed you. The end was always the same, he’d wake with a gasp and drenched in a cold sweat unable to breathe. One night after waking from the nightmare he jumped at the sound of a knock at his door. Slowly he rose and opened the door only to freeze to see you standing there. “Y-you should be in bed. You’re still healing.”

“If anyone needs healing it’s you.” You told him softly, your eyes scanning his haunted expression sadly. When Kid opened his mouth to argue, you held up a hand to stop him, immediately he shut his mouth. You stepped into Kids room and took his hand in yours, leading him to his bed and making him lie down before you settled into the space beside him, curling up and settling your hand on his chest. Before you’d gotten hurt it wasn’t rare for you and Kid to nap together on the deck when the mornings were slow so you were both used to this position, even if being in his bed at night made things more intimate. Still you felt how tense he was and sighed. “What’s done is done and if I knew how this would have gone…I’d still have done what I did to try and save you. I only regret how much this is eating you up. Just focus on my breathing, Kid. I’m still alive. I’m here with you.”

“That nearly wasn’t the case. I almost killed you.” Kid felt the panic claw at his chest, this was the first time he’d spoken the words. The first time he’d spoken to you since…”I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh. Just sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Your voice was as warm as always, no hint of hatred for him in your tone. Reluctantly Kid settled his arm around you and closed his eyes, falling into the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long while with no more nightmares to haunt him.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[earlysunshines]

you always had me (and you’re always shining)

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff, pining, slowburn

synopsis: danielle has been there for your ups and downs, knowing her for so long and debuting with her makes you fall deeper and deeper—whether you like it or not.

warnings: sixth member reader ; readers a few months younger than dani ; pining and yeah i… love pining ; sloooow burn ; TOOTHrotting fluff like all your teeth will fall out prob and also angst (if u squint hard) ; they’re in love i fear, like sooo in love ; minji literally watches the whole thing unfold and doesn't say anything ; reader's native language is english ; some other implied things that will make sense it's just story buidling/backstory LOL ; barely proofread

a/n: this is a loooong one i hope u all enjoy :-] i enjoyed writing every bit and I was smiling the whole way, I hope you all smile reading this too.

being an idol is anything but easy, and that’s very palpable as you lie on the ground, sweaty and exhausted, in the practice room.

minji had watched the whole thing; right after the last session of the ditto choreo, you had walked over to the corner of the room, sat down, and ended up flat on your back. seeing you like this made her laugh.

regardless, you loved your job. music was your passion, and dancing brought joy to your heart. the journey to becoming an idol prepared you for the intense performances and demanding physical routines, but it didn't prepare you for how your heart would race each time a certain member interacted with you—just like she’s doing now.

danielle waits until you take your forearm off your forehead, watching you blink twice when she’s in your field of vision.

she greets you warmly. “hi stranger.”

“dani.” just the sight of her makes you smile. “hey.”

“you okay? minji wanted me to check on you.”

“tired, that’s all.”

“you should drink water then, sweetheart.” 

you hated when she called you these stupid pet names—not because it made you uncomfortable or anything, but because it made your heart nearly jump out of your chest. 

“want me to get you some?” she asks, her voice gentle yet playful.

“i can do it myself, thanks.” you respond, getting up without looking back at her—danielle frowns.

she watches you walk over to get water for yourself, slightly hunched over with your hand propping you up at the counter. she sees you stare down at the table between sips, seemingly lost in your own world, and it’s a tad bit concerning. sure, you’re quiet, but never this quiet or distant. you even practiced during the breaks, not giving yourself one and pretty much defeating the whole purpose of a break. everyone had noticed, but danielle had been much more worried.

danielle goes over to minji, who’s stretching and humming as the younger one is in her peripheral. she sits down next to the oldest member and continues to look at you, now you’re leaning against the wall sipping on the cup, and then letting it hang loose in your hand as you stare into the distance.

“minji, is y/n alright? she’s been so out of it today and the last time we had practice.”

minji looks in your direction and shakes her head. “no idea, i noticed it too. i thought you would’ve known.”

“i don’t. i’m just worried.”

“you want me to talk to her?” minji suggests, “but you’re closer with her, aren’t you?”

the younger member continues to look your way, watching haerin tap your shoulder and making you jump a bit from being startled. haerin turns to face you, her lips moving with some quiet words danielle can’t quite catch. you wave her off with a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, then head to a corner to stretch, finding your own space.

“yeah, she’s just been distant these past few days. minji, i don’t know what to do.”

“pry her open, she’s got a tough exterior you know.”

“she’s always been like that.” danielle sighs, continuing to stretch.

it’s well known that you’re quite reserved, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t bold, outgoing, or unwilling to talk to your members. all of them see you as a pillar and light in the group, a source of strength and joy. even further, there’s compilations of you online making the members laugh and being an idiot, you’re a joy to your fans and the people close to you. but there are times when you close yourself off and become unusually quiet. it’s not like haerin’s nature, being quiet and all; instead, it’s a concerning silence that signals something is off. danielle, in particular, has a keen sense for these moments, always noticing when you retreat into yourself and sensing that something is bothering you.

she’s always been able to find a way to help you out and talk to her a bit, you’ve had a soft spot for her and it’s evident to everyone in your group. you rarely speak on your problems; the fact that danielle can get you to utter a sentence regarding what bothers you is astonishing itself.

you’ve known danielle for as long as you’ve been a trainee since she’s been there longer. she’s always been incredibly kind and patient with you, especially during those initial days when you were adjusting to being away from your grandparents who raised you. being in a place so completely different from what you were used to was challenging, but danielle’s presence was a comforting constant. 

the bond that you two had only grew with time and experience, and the fact that you two had so many similarities (one being the year you were born) only strengthened it. danielle, without a doubt, was the one person who could ground you. because of this, she’s going to make it her priority to find out what’s up with you.

when practice ends and everyone is free to go back to the dorms, danielle approaches you and grabs your hand, making you turn to face her with a raised brow.

“yes?”

“let’s grab lunch y/n, the rest of us are going to.”

“oh, i’m not really feeling it, sorry.” you apologize, feeling bad when the member holding your hand frowns. “i think i’ll just eat later, i’m not hungry. could you buy me something though?”

she lets out a small huff. “what’s going on?” 

you tilt your head like haerin always does and hum in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“something is bothering you.”

“no, i’m just tired. can’t you see the eyebags? seriously, i’m so sleepy…” you try to mask what you feel with a lighthearted chuckle, but danielle can hear the lie in your words. she wants to be angry at you for lying, but she knows you can’t help it. lying about what you feel is like breathing to you. “grab me a rice bowl?”

she lets go of your hand and it almost urges you to spill pent-up emotions, but you won’t give in that easily. sure, her pretty face and caring self make you fold most of the time, but not in this case.

“alright y/n.” danielle sighs. “can we talk tonight? if you’re feeling like you want to. i hate seeing you so out of it.”

you pause, looking at her with slumped shoulders before biting your lip. 

“thank you, light.”

–

danielle has many nicknames and things people like to call her. one of her favorites—if not her absolute favorite—has always been dani, at least until you let a special nickname slip off your lips not too long ago, one that made her cheeks warm and brought a shy smile to her face.

“light?” she asks, looking at you like you’re stupid – in an admirable, adorable way of course.

you shrug. “sunshine is used too much by bunnies and the other members, light is much more unique and special to me. you’re special to me so i wanted something special. you don’t like it?”

danielle loves it the moment she hears you say it.

it's late, and while the rest of the members are fast asleep, you and danielle find yourselves unable to drift off. instinctively, you both end up in your room, lying on the bed. danielle’s head rests comfortably on your stomach as you explain the spontaneous, out-of-nowhere nickname you came up with for her a few months after your debut. she can't tell if the room is too hot and you need to start using your fan (you really do, danielle doesn’t understand how you survive without turning on that fan in these hot dorms), or if it's just because you've just called her something that makes her feel truly special.

her heart flutters. “i like it a lot. how’d you think of it?”

you start humming to yourself as you think. “i mean, you’re like sunshine, the sun. you know, you’re very bright and lights are bright too so…”

“that’s cute.” you’re cute, danielle might explode right there and right now, ‘cute’ is not capturing how much she adores it. “you’re creative.”

“i’m not.”

“you look down on yourself too much.” danielle retorts as she gets up to lay down next to you. her face is turned to gaze at your features. “seriously.”

���or maybe you just look up to me too much.”

“well you need to shrink. anyway, i think my statement is factual and yours is false.”

“you really want to debate right now?”

“i don’t need to, i’m right.” danielle smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

you turn on your side and she mirrors you, the mood of the room shifts, the air seems warmer – maybe you should turn that fan on.

danielle lets out a small yawn, her blinking slowing down as her eyelids grow heavy. you giggle quietly, then pull the blanket over the two of you, taking a moment to admire her. she looks peaceful and beautiful, more so than anyone or anything you've ever seen.

you reach over to fix the blanket sitting on her figure. “i take it you’re staying here tonight?”

she nods sleepily.

“okay.”

–

danielle knocks on your door, and before you can answer she lets herself in. she’s always done this, it’s amusing.

(and really, she knows you’ll let her in anyway. you’ve never once declined.)

she spots you lying in bed, your face hidden under the plaid blanket your grandma had shipped from your home. danielle knows it’s one of your most prized possessions, she can tell that it’s especially important as you cling onto it.

“the rice bowl is in the fridge, you should eat.”

“i’ll eat later dani.”

she frowns at you, watching you lay there and face the window in your room.

your favorite playlist fills the silence in the room, the one hanni contributed half of when you two were feeling emotional in the middle of the night and sharing sappy songs that made your hearts melt. it’s a bit concerning that this playlist is also what you listen to when you’re sulking, given that it’s filled with half of daniel caesar’s discography and slow love songs (happy and sad, but you still manage to sulk when it’s something to swoon over). 

you and hanni have such similar tastes in music; it’s almost dangerous how in sync you are when it comes to the songs that tug at your heartstrings.

danielle shuts the door slowly before making her way over to you. she sits beside you, rubbing your shoulder through the material of your blanket.

“hey sleepy, you’ll feel terrible if you don’t eat.” she squeezes you lightly, making you groan quietly. “the others are worried too, i told them you took a nap.”

“tell them i’m sleeping in.” you mumble, covering yourself in the blanket more. “thanks dani.”

she sighs and moves over so her lips hover above your ear. “y/n, you can’t stay like this. we’ve talked about this before, it’s not good to keep things in; you’ll explode.”

“it’s nothing, please danielle.”

“sweetheart,” her voice makes you all tingly. “please?”

you finally give in after she slides her hand down to your back, rubbing it comfortingly. with a deep breath, you slowly sit up and lean against the wall behind you. danielle’s eyes are filled with a tender, eager sparkle, her bottom lip jutting out slightly as she watches you, ready to listen to every word. 

the room feels warmer, the closeness between you making the moment intimate and heartfelt.

“the comeback is a little stressful, but i’ve managed of course.” she nods as you explain, giving you her undivided attention. “and my grandma recently got surgery, i found out two days ago and i’ve just been worried sick. the thought of her without me there to help her out makes me sick. i know my grandpa is there to help her out but– i’ve just always been there for them. now i can’t, and i can’t disappoint them either.”

you've never been much of a crier; the members have seen you cry maybe two or three times. but when danielle’s features soften and she immediately reaches over to engulf you in a hug that you could drown in, tears start to well in your eyes. you manage to hold them back, but the overwhelming comfort and warmth she offers makes it difficult.

“and you know the whole thing with my family after i took the trainee route, my grandparents are the only ones who are really fond of me and i– i’m just really… thrown off right now.

“i’m sorry to hear that, really.” she mumbles near your neck, mostly into your hair.  her embrace feels like a safe haven, a place where you can let go of your worries, even if just for a moment. you start to think that everything will be fine. “you’re not letting down anyone, just you existing makes your grandparents proud. i know it. and, i know i’ve only met your grandma briefly, but she’s such a strong woman from what i’ve seen, seriously. i trust that she’ll be fine, but would she be fine if she knew you were stressing?”

you shake your head – danielle has a point.

“i- i guess not.”

“well, i think her recovery would go much better knowing the woman she loves most is doing her best and doing alright.”

danielle’s right, she’s so right it really does ground you. you wrap your arms around her and hug back tightly, letting your worries flow away.

“thank you.”

“mhm.” she hums softly, then pulls away to gaze at you, placing her hands on your shoulders. “you should eat, let’s eat together.”

“you haven’t eaten yet?”

“a little, but i couldn’t eat a lot knowing you hadn’t.”

maybe you should’ve eaten, you should’ve because danielle isn’t satisfied. her stomach is most likely nowhere near half full. you quickly get up and grab her hand, dragging her out your room after hearing the new information.

“i can’t have you hungry dani.”

-

minji is happy to see your spark back, seeing you so enthusiastic and performing so well during practices makes her happy. 

this time, your practice is being recorded. you're all jumpy and giddy as you play around with hyein, teasing her in between breaks, but you manage to stay focused and excel as you run through the choreography. the camera captures you tease hanni, you make fun of the three-inch height difference between you two while she pouts and chases you around. even haerin joins in, watching you run around while you grin at the shortest member. the practice room buzzes with laughter and energy, your lighthearted teasing making the grueling session more enjoyable for everyone.

danielle and minji watch from afar, well, it’s mostly danielle who’s watching – admiring.

minji sees something special in her gaze, a sort of longing. a smile makes its way to danielle's lips, and minji watches the way danielle softens. the camera captures the same sight minji is seeing, though in much lower quality. the tender moment is evident even through the grainy footage, highlighting something much more complex between danielle and the object of her affection: you.

minji judges the younger member. “seems like you got her back on her feet.”

“hm?” danielle says, flinching slightly after being startled. “oh, yeah. she’s definitely feeling better, i’m really glad.”

“you two have something special, hm?”

“what do you mean?” 

minji looks back at you. you’ve given up, and hanni is now dragging you to the ground, both of you laughing as hyein records the whole thing. minji then glances at danielle. the younger australian member finds herself giggling unknowingly as she watches the whole scene unfold, her eyes twinkling with amusement and something softer, something that betrays the ‘platonic’ aspect in the fondness she holds for you.

minji shakes her head. “nothing. let’s get back to work.”

-

“hi everyone, i’m with y/n!” minji greets the livestream, looking at herself in the screen and fixing her hair. “say hi.”

you sit down next to her and fix the cap on your head, waving at the phone and smiling. “hi everyone, it’s been a while since i’ve made an appearance, huh?”

minji looks at you and scoffs. “you were on danielle’s live last week, and on her little voice message for a moment.”

you giggle and shake your head, putting up your hands to make a little ‘x’ sign with your fingers. 

“sounds like someone’s a fan of miss marsh, stalking her phoning activity…”

“bro, you are literally apart of her content a third of the time.”

“are you jealous kim minji?”

“of what, danielle being all over you? count me out…”

you giggle and continue on with the live. the two of you talk about the upcoming ‘making jeans,’ reminiscing and laughing over the countless memories you shared during the process of filming the music video.

of course, you tend to mention danielle often, complimenting her looks in each outfit and scene you all shot, the memories of mainly the two of you during the whole filming process. minji listens carefully as you ramble, narrowing her eyes each time the name ‘danielle’ is brought up. she lets you ramble, of course; she'd be something not too short of awful if she were to cut you off from gushing about your fellow member. 

there’s a sparkle in your eyes like fireworks going off as minji watches you. your smile is wide and genuine, your hands animatedly emphasizing every detail of whatever topic you're discussing, and without fail, danielle is woven into the narrative. the slight tint of pink on your cheeks doesn’t escape minji’s notice; it hints at something deeper than simple admiration.

the conversation shifts away from danielle and onto your other members, particularly how you and minji managed to cook a five-course meal for the rest of the group. questions flow and are answered promptly, and as the live stream reaches its fifty-minute mark, minji decides it's time to wrap up. 

once she ends the stream, you turn to her and give a thumbs up. “that was fun, lets do more of these.”

“you talked about danielle for a fifth of the live, y/n.”

“sorry…” you mumble, “i just remembered a lot of things from the shoot.”

you remembered danielle from the shoot that’s for sure. 

minji waves her hand and says, “it’s not a bad thing that you did…”

“of course not, danielle is lovely.”

to you? more than just lovely i bet. minji thinks, rolling her eyes before she flicks the cap off your head. you make some strange noise and it makes the older member chuckle.

“let’s get some rest, thanks for joining me.”

“yeah, anytime.” you wink at her before getting up and waving, walking out the door with a grin on your lips.

minji finds herself leaning against her bedframe, reflecting on everything she’s observed over the past two weeks—and honestly, over the years. 

the whole livestream with you has her pondering now; even as trainees, you and minji had always been close and supportive of each other. however, minji had always noticed something distinct in the dynamics between you and danielle. while all four of you—minji, hanni, danielle, and yourself—spoke english, there was an undeniable uniqueness in the connection, the exchanged glances, the subtle cues, and the way you and danielle interacted.

she collapses onto her bed and grabs her phone, concentrating hard as she clicks on the 'youtube' icon and goes to the search bar. biting the inside of her lip, she types 'newjeans danielle and y/n,' feeling a little awkward, as if she’s doing something a fan would do. she shakes her head to dispel the feeling, focusing on the recommended searches that follow:

"newjeans danielle and y/n moments" "danielle and y/n cute interactions" "newjeans y/n looking at danielle" "danielle and y/n chemistry compilation"

minji clicks on the first result, curiosity piqued, then clicks on the first video that pops up. the video is a compilation of moments between you and danielle, set to a soft, romantic song. as the montage begins, she sees clip after clip of the two of you laughing together, eyes sparkling with unspoken understanding. secret glances are exchanged, your smiles growing wider with every shared look. inside jokes flow effortlessly, creating a tempo only the two of you seem to follow. 

minji watches as the moments play out, each one reinforcing the undeniable bond between you and danielle. most of these clips could be played out as touchy, close friend moments, but some cannot be brushed off as that at all.

there’s a clip that plays, and minji cringes a little when she sees herself pop up on screen, talking about how she feels before a stage. the focus then shifts, zooming in on the background where danielle is leaning against your shoulder, eyes closed. minji watches as you turn to look at danielle lovingly, a soft smile playing on your lips before you look back at the makeup artist fixing your blush. 

another clip that makes minji's brows furrow also sparks a memory in her head. in the clip, you jump at minji, placing both hands on her shoulders as you lift yourself up from the ground. when you land back down, you hug the older member and laugh with her, happy that you've managed to scare her. what minji never noticed before now plays in the video: danielle is in the distance, the footage edited to zoom in on her. she's watching the whole scene, and as soon as your arms wrap around minji, danielle's gaze turns slightly more serious. danielle bites half of her lip and clenches her jaw, clearly a little bothered by it.

that’s not like her at all.

minji skips the video and finds the most replayed moment, her eyes widening at how oblivious she had been to you two. have the other members noticed as well? the question rings throughout minji’s head, the others have to have had a small hunch. then again, danielle is affectionate, and you are too at times, so maybe it wouldn’t be unbelievable for them to be blind to whatever you and her have going on. 

you and danielle are shooting for the photobooks, taking your duo pictures. minji watches as danielle takes this opportunity to be touchy as ever, her hands never leaving you as you both pose. her hand ends up on your forearm, shoulders, and even the back of your neck. she's flirting with you the whole time too, mostly to earn genuine smiles and laughs for the camera, but also because she enjoys it and means it – minji assumes. even as you two pose with hanni added, danielle still keeps her hand on you at all times, not wanting to leave you be. and when the camera pans to her hand sliding to your waist and rubbing it just barely, minji freezes.

each moment feels charged with a depth she hadn't fully grasped before. even she hasn’t noticed half of what was clipped.

the comments are filled with fans gushing over your interactions:

"i swear they have the best chemistry!" "look at how danielle looks at y/n! my heart can't take it." "they are so cute together! #dany/n" “are they dating? i’m new to this group. ↪️”not officially, but from their interactions it seems like it could be true.” ↪️”there has to be something though, most likely they are.” ↪️”hey, let’s not assume things. we don’t know what goes on behind cameras and they’re probably just really close friends!”

minji sighs, a mix of amusement and concern flooding her. she knew you two were close, but this compilation and the fan reactions make it clear just how much your bond stands out. sure, danielle and haerin had some of their own moments (mainly because haerin, but this? this is something.

 she scrolls through a few more videos, each one reinforcing what she's just realized. 

"oh my fucking god," minji murmurs, the weight of understanding settling in as she processes everything: you think danielle shines brighter than the sun.

you talk about her like she is your sun, and danielle looks at you like you’re her moon.

and minji? she's caught in the midst of your oblivious pining, realizing she occupies the role of the stars, planets, and everything in between.

-

“hanni.”

the younger member jumps at the sound of minji barging into her room at 12 in the morning, looking at her like she’s crazy.

“the hell man? at least knock–”

“you and danielle, you’re both very similar, very close too, i know that.”

“of course i’m close with dani, what the hell are you–”

“you’re close with y/n too, yeah?”

“i’m close with everyone including you minji, what kind of interrogation is this?”

minji flops onto hanni’s bed and stares up into the ceiling like she’s just worked a 9-5 with no break in between. the younger member walks over to close the door of her room, then sits back down to assess whatever is happening. 

“seriously,” hanni begins, “what’s up?”

“are dani and y/n dating? like are they together? like girlfriends, like– romantic?”

hanni giggles, making minji turn her head to give hanni a good look of the confused expression she has on. “what? no…? they’re just really flirty minji, i thought we knew this.”

“okay well i just went live with y/n and she was rambling and gushing about dani for a solid fifteen minutes. hanni, that live was almost an hour.”

“oh.” hanni simply responds, going silent.

“have you noticed something between them? or am i going crazy…”

the room is silent for a while, and minji lets it stay that way, giving hanni time to process her thoughts. hanni starts to really think about her other two members. minji has a point: you and danielle are close, and your demeanor changes noticeably when danielle is involved. she also recalls the time when she and danielle had gone out together, only for danielle to talk about you a good chunk of the time. it doesn’t help that danielle’s lock screen consists of two rotating pictures: one being a group photo and the other being you holding a kitten.

danielle and hanni spend a lot of time together, and now that hanni fully analyzes all those moments, she realizes that a significant portion of their conversations revolves around you. it’s almost as if you were there with them. danielle also looks at you differently, more lovingly, compared to the way she looks at the other members. when she flirts, it’s also different – more genuine, more meaningful. hanni had always been too distracted by how flirty and stupid danielle was to notice the blush on both your faces during those flirtatious moments. now, everything starts to make sense.

“okay wait yeah,” hanni bites the side of her finger. “i guess? but danielles really loving and sweet.”

“but much more with y/n, right?” minji sounds like she’s trying to convince herself too. “oh my god this is so embarrassing but i went on youtube…”

“don’t tell me you–”

minji puts a hand in the air, closing her eyes embarrassingly. “it was for research.”

“research on your friends?”

“stop! you need to see the video too, i didn’t even notice this shit.” 

hanni sighs, letting minji scoot next to her and play a video titled ‘danielle and y/n moments that could make the cut in a romance drama.’ the younger member eyes minji after reading the title, minji just puts a finger to her lips and presses play.

“i can’t believe you’re making me watch this, am i a bunny or what?”

“just watch.”

minji is older and hanni does not have anything better to do at this hour of the night, so she keeps her eyes glued on the screen.

the younger woman goes through every single emotion that minji has with each second passing by. her brows crease, her hand hovers over her mouth in shock, and she almost squeals during some clips – minji nudges her teasingly. when the video ends hanni sits there staring at the phone dead silent. 

“well?”

“that was edited very well.”

the older member pushes the younger one and rolls her eyes. “shut up. are you picking up what i’m putting down?”

“yeah, no, oh my god it’s real.”

“but they’re not dating…” minji thinks to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. “wait, are they… do they even like girls?”

“oh yeah, danielle mentioned it like, twice, but she thinks it’s not a big deal. but yeah, she likes girls. i think y/n mentioned it once too, they’re both just not open about it i guess?”

minji clicks her tongue. “so they’re probably in love and pining, they’re oblivious.”

“what do we even do with this information?” hanni asks. 

they both ponder the possible outcomes, weighing the positive and negative consequences of you and danielle becoming a couple or continuing to pine for each other. if you two stayed in the limbo of unspoken looks, flirting, and loving gestures, the status quo would remain, but it might cause tension. on the other hand, if you two became a thing and eventually broke up, it could create a rocky dynamic within the group. 

however, minji knows you well. you’re mature and have been through a lot, so she believes you’d be able to handle it professionally. danielle, on the other hand, might struggle more with the fallout. but if the relationship lasted, it would bring happiness and joy, despite the challenges of dating as an idol and concealing so much. the two of you would be happy – you’re already happy as is to be part of the group and know each other – and so would the other members. 

the thought of this potential happiness brings a soft smile to minji’s face as she considers the best path forward for everyone involved.

minji leans into hanni’s pillow and closes her eyes – she looks like an overworked therapist. “we shouldn’t intervene.”

“let things flow naturally?”

“yeah, but with the knowledge that they’re in love i guess.”

“so it’s actually like an angsty, intense romance drama.”

“they’re our friends idiot… more like a romcom, it’s not that bad.”

the two laugh and decide to call it a night, promising to run to each other with information and thoughts on every single thing that happens to the two of you.

(they can still be fans of the two of you despite being part of the group itself, and that as a guilty pleasure isn’t the worst thing in the world.)

-

your birthday falls right before the break you have, just a few promotions to get through and you’re set.

unfortunately, you’re not able to see your grandparents during the first week of your vacation since they’ve had a few complications with flights and their work. however, they’ll be coming to visit you in the second week, staying a little longer despite you having to work. because of this, you'll have plenty of time to spend with them and show them around seoul. 

plus, they’ll get to meet your members, and you can already envision how much they’ll baby and spoil everyone. the thought of your grandparents showering your friends with affection, gifts, and really just their love and charm brings a smile to your face, and you can’t wait for them to experience the warmth and love you’ve always cherished. 

every birthday for each member includes a special livestream, and today, it’s your turn. 

despite it being your birthday, a heavy feeling of sadness lingers, overshadowing the excitement as you all set up. you should be happy, and you are with the members around you by your side on your day, but you’re still not completely you the absence of danielle gnaws at your heart. everyone except her surrounds you, and you try to mask how terrible you feel without her presence as you prepare for the broadcast. she apparently had something very important in her schedule that would last until the late evening, leaving you to celebrate without her.

[danielle] im so sorry i can’t be there for you ☹️ i wanted to be there but they’ve shoved this into my schedule since the break is soon im so sorry sweetheart i’ll make it up to you as best as i can, promise i love you, i’m sorry i’m so so so sorry

you remember seeing danielle's messages two hours after noon. the instant you read them, your shoulders dropped, your smile faded, and all the excitement drained from your body. those texts still haunt you, a constant reminder of her absence on a day you wanted her by your side the most.

[y/n] it’s okay, don’t worry about it.

you put on your best facade, greeting the viewers with a joyful, upbeat tone, but the rest of the members can see through it. the light in your eyes is dimmed, your smile not as genuine as usual. hyein notices and rubs your hand under the table, offering silent support, trying to lift your spirits on your special day. the others chime in with their own attempts to cheer you up, but the void left by danielle’s absence is hard to fill.

you force a smile. “i’m surrounded by most of my members! i’m very happy to be with them on my special day.”

hyein puts her arm around your shoulder and squeezes you close to hug you from the side, making you giggle. “she’s getting older and older and older… please wish her a long life everyone.”

“hey! i’m not that old…”

“if y/n is old then what am i?” minji questions, quirking a brow at the youngest.

“ancient.”

“hey!”

your members start to bicker playfully, and it washes away a good amount of your worries. the smile on your face stays, though it falters now and then. despite the sadness lurking in the background, you're grateful to be surrounded by those who have supported you. their presence and antics bring some light to your birthday, helping you feel a bit more at ease.

hanni suddenly grips your shoulders, making you jump. “okay~ time for the birthday girls’ gifts!”

she makes you giggle, then moves out of frame to grab a wrapped box. she hands it to you – not without accidentally hitting your head, making you and the members gasp and chuckle – then lets you examine the exterior.

“you’ll love it man.” you roll her eyes at her confident tone.

everyone watches you unwrap the gift, hyein snorts as she watches you struggle to open the box up, having to find a pen to stab it and rip the seal. there are a few things inside, but you grab the larger item out and gasp when you see it. 

“hanni you’re– oh my god.” you gaze at the signed daniel caesar vinyl in your hands, mouth wide open. “hanni.”

“yes?”

you stand up immediately to hug her tight, engulfing her in your arms as you sway in place. “thank you so much.”

she rubs your back and hugs you back with the same energy. “seems like my present will be hard to beat, that so?”

you pull away and scoff playfully, sitting back down to inspect whatever else is inside the box. “don’t make it a competition!”

the rest of the live continues, most of your sorrow completely lifted after opening each present. minji gives you a cap with your name on it, along with a necklace you had been eyeing for months, some stationary, and your favorite candies from back home. you marvel at how she managed to get a bag of your favorite sweets, but she just shrugs with a smirk plastered on her face, clearly enjoying the mystery.

haerin’s gift is thoughtful and cute. you ‘re given three different koala keychains (your representative and favorite animal), a cat shirt, a new ds game, and blue light glasses. haerin is attentive to everything, but it still surprised you that she remembered you were missing the ‘y’ version of your favorite pokemon game – and your glasses that you had bought a month ago. she also hands you a letter, it’s full of words that will probably make you tear up later, so you decide to tuck it away for the time being.

hyein gifts you something that makes you laugh until you're leaning against her, nearly crying. her bag contains new earrings that match your style perfectly and your favorite disney movie on dvd. the real kicker, though, is an oversized shirt featuring a popular baby picture of you photoshopped boldly on the front. in the picture, your six-year-old self is sleeping with your head turned uncomfortably and drool seeping from the corner of your lips. the sloppy masking of the image only adds to how hilarious it is, making hanni and minji hold onto each other as they cackle, while haerin has to move out of frame to hide her amusement. 

“how did you even get this made?” you ask the youngest member, still clinging onto her and laughing in between words. “oh my god, this is insane.”

“do you like it?”

“i love it hyeinie.” you press a short peck to the top of her head, then pat down her hair. “it’s wonderful.”

she’s smiling brightly, happy that you’re not as sad as before and that you love her gift. hyein has always been full of love and care.

you begin to organize the presents again, looking back at all of them and feeling like the luckiest, happiest girl in the world. after hugging all of your members again, nearly crushing them from how grateful you are.

haerin then brings your cake back in frame, tugging on your sleeve to grab your attention. 

 you clap your hands. “ah! yes, let’s blow the candle.”

it’s really simple, mundane, and everyone does it – blowing a cake and all, despite yours not being edible – but it makes your cheeks hurt from how much you smile. everyone enthusiastically sings ‘happy birthday’ and you sit there like a child all giddy. once they’re all done, you close your eyes and clasp your hands, making a silent wish in your head.

most of the wishes are simply you wishing for your grandparents to be well and healthy, and you wished the same for your members. you also wished for one more thing, something on a whim, but it would make you even happier than you are right now.

i wish danielle were here.

you silently go over each wish again, unaware of hanni opening the door behind you, someone walking in silently and quickly rushing over to stand behind you. 

opening your eyes, you grin and blow the candles out, then jump and shout in surprise when you feeling someone’s arms around you and their body pressed against you from behind.

danielles scent is recognizable, and so is her voice, heavy with accent. “happy birthday!”

you turn around in surprise, looking up at her with wide eyes and your jaw dropped. she moves her hand to the crook of your neck, the other resting on your shoulder as she looks at your expression.

“dani? you– you said you couldn’t–”

“i’m sorry, i had to pick up your present and surprise you. was it too harsh?”

you felt you heart break into pieces when you had received her texts, but still answer, “no, absolutely not.”

she hugs you again and you sink into her embrace. minji and hanni exchange knowing glances, hyein and haerin just smile at how sweet the moment it is. 

you end the live shortly after, with danielle explaining to the viewers that her present for you is something very special that she needs to show off-camera. the group continues chatting about you and your birthday, with haerin snickering at hyein’s remarks. danielle stays where she is, standing behind your chair with her arms around you, her fingers grazing your skin in a way that makes you swoon. minji and hanni silently communicate with each other through their eyes and brows, sharing a knowing look about the bond between you and danielle.

you couldn’t be any happier.

–

it turns out that you can be happier.

once the livestream ends, you all help clean up the studio. minji tries to suck in helium from the balloons, while hanni and hyein run around trying to stop her, adding to the lighthearted chaos. despite the playful antics, the six of you manage to clean up quickly. each member hugs you tightly, danielle hugging you last. as she pulls away, she gives a look to each of the members, silently sending them off with goodbyes and “see you back at home’s.” soon, it’s just you and danielle back in the empty studio after she had dragged you back inside.

“i’m sorry again, but i had to grab you some special things.”

“it’s okay, really.” you lie, knowing you probably would’ve went back home and sulked for a bit. you look at the bag in her hands, then giggle. “is that for me?”

“yes miss birthday girl!” 

you laugh and she hands you the bag, it’s smaller than everyone elses, but that doesn’t matter at all.

reaching in, you feel something fluffy. you pull out a small teddy bear about twice the size of your hands, feeling your lips turn up. it’s a bear with a flower in its hand and a small flower crown on top of its head. it’s adorable, but not as much as danielle.

“dani,” you pull her in for another hug. “this is so cute.”

“mhm.” she mumbles, pulling away. “press on its chest.”

“what?”

“just do it.”

you comply, you thumb adding pressure and feeling a small click. there’s a small sound that starts to play, and as soon as you hear the familiar voices, you almost break.

“hi y/n! we miss you and love you and are so so proud of you.” the sound of your grandpa’s voice in the recording makes you freeze.

your grandma speaks next, “we miss you and love you to death. keep it up! you are so amazing and the greatest gift ever, you’ve got this.” 

they both speak at the same time next, saying, “from your favorite bunnies: we love you y/n!”

danielle is a little scared as she watches you frozen in place, still clutching the bear she gave you. your lip trembles slightly, and she hears a slight shake in your breath. you stare at the bear in shock, then look up at danielle with tears brimming in your eyes. her heart aches, unsure if your reaction is good or bad, and she takes a hesitant step closer, her voice soft and concerned.

"hey, are you okay?" she asks, reaching out gently to touch your arm. 

you grab her wrist and pull her in, engulfing her in the warmest hug you’ve given. “danielle, this is the best gift i’ve ever received.” she can hear you starting to sniffle, not letting go of you and letting your tears stain her hair. “thank you so much, i– i really needed this. you’re seriously the most thoughtful person i know and i just, i can’t explain how much this means to me.”

danielle's heart swells with relief and affection. she hugs you tighter, resting her chin on your shoulder. "i'm so glad you like it," she whispers. "you mean a lot to me, and i wanted to give you something special, something that shows how much i care."

you pull back slightly to look at her, your eyes still glistening with tears. "it’s perfect," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "you’re perfect, oh my god, i love you so much.” 

danielle smiles, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "i’m glad you like it, happy birthday.” she says softly.

-

“yes, i got it. i can’t believe danielle did all this for me.” you face your ipad, smiling at your grandparents. “i cried you know!”

your grandmas eyes smile with her and you can see the slight wrinkles in the corner of them. “aw, at least they were happy tears. your member, she reached out to us first you know? what a sweetheart…”

“danielle cares for you a lot, you know? she’s a great friend, you keep her close, okay?” your grandpa adds.

friend. the word rings in your ear, stinging a little. danielle is sweeter than honey, caring, loving, and she’s the reason your transition to moving away from home was easier. at the end of the day, no matter how touchy she is with you, how many flirtatious comments and affectionate gestures she gives; danielle is your friend. 

at least she’s in your life, you’re grateful for just that.

“yeah,” you chuckle, it’s bittersweet leaving you. “she’s a great friend.”

your grandma leans closer to the camera, smirking. “but if i had to take a guess, i don’t think you’re just a friend to her.”

an awkward laugh leaves your lips. “what are you on about?”

“friends don’t do things as significant as this. your grandpa was my ‘friend’ in college, but none of my friends did the things he did. did the rest of your members do something like this? she cares about you deeply, im sure the other members do too, but this is different y/n.”

“i mean, my members also gave me great gifts.”

“sweetie, danielle reached out to us via facebook and set up a whole thing in order to get this for you.”

“and i’ve seen your little videos with the members, she looks at you differently and clings onto you more than haerin. that says a lot.” your grandpa adds on, raising his brows. 

your cheeks start to burn, you roll your eyes and scoff. “i think you’re looking into it too far, seriously. she’s my coworker and friend.”

“y/n, follow your heart. you adore her and you’re trying to push away the feeling because you’re scared of rejection.” your grandma was very good at reading you. too good. “don’t suppress and run away because you’re scared, things will work out.”

“i don’t even know if she likes girls like that, i mean, danielle–”

without any warning, the door of your room is opened suddenly and you jump, dropping your ipad on the mattress and letting out a small yelp.

danielle stands int he doorway in her pajamas. “hey! oh sorry– did i interrupt? sorry i’ll come back later–” 

“no! i mean, no.” you clear your throat. “d-did you need something?”

your grandparents can only see the ceiling, but they still hear danielle, “ah, well, i’ll just tell you later when you’re done. are you calling your grandparents?”

“danielle? is that you?” your grandma calls out. “dear, let me see her.”

picking up the ipad and setting it upright again, danielle walks over to where you sit on the bed and leans over so her head is in frame. “mrs. and mr. l/n! hi, how are you?”

“oh danielle, it’s lovely to see you! we’re doing great.” your grandpa responds. 

you scoot over and pat down the space next to you, mumbling softly to danielle, “sit here.”

“you sure? i didn’t interrupt, i’ll just say hi and–”

danielle feels you grab her wrist, pulling her down so she’s next to you now. “it’s fine, i swear.” you assure, and danielle just nods.

“oh gosh, you get prettier each time i see you.” your grandpa says in awe (he gets it). “how did y/n react? tell us the full details.”

the member beside you laughs, it’s music to your ears. 

“she just stared at it while the audio played and… cried.” she turns to look at you with apologetic eyes. “it was very emotional, but i can assure she loved it. did you?”

“yeah.” you mutter, eyes on danielle as she speaks.

“aw, how adorable. well, we actually have to go. you had something to tell our granddaughter?”

your grandma and grandpa want you dead.

“aw, well i hope to talk to you two for longer next time! stay safe and healthy– oh! and speedy recovery to you mrs. l/n!”

“thanks dear, goodnight you two! happy birthday, we love you.” is the last thing your grandpa says before your grandma blows you a kiss and waves goodbye. the call ends a second later, leaving you and danielle alone.

she turns her head, your faces find themselves a hand apart.

“your grandparents are so lovely.”

you look at her like an idiot. “yeah.”

“i’m sorry to cut your call short, really–”

“no! no, it’s okay. what did you want to tell me?”

“well,” she starts, her gaze fixed on her hands. she looks nervous, and it makes you nervous as well. “i kind of was wondering…” you gulp, hearing the hesitation in her voice. she does that thing, the little nervous lip bite that’s both adorable and nerve-racking at the same time. “you know, the vacation we have is soon, and you’re here in seoul for the first week. i figured that might be boring, considering all of us will be out and with family, you know? and you, you’re still here.”

her words hang in the air, the weight of her uncertainty pressing down on both of you. you can feel the anticipation building, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to decipher her intentions. the idea of spending the first week of vacation alone had been a bit daunting, and the thought that danielle had been thinking about you, about your potential loneliness, makes your heart swell with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“and…?”

“well…” you focus on each curve of her side profile, eyes softening as she continues. “how does australia sound? with me, my hometown to be exact. oh! but only for a few days of course! i know your grandparents are visiting and yeah, that’s– that’s what i wanted to ask.”

you can’t help but chuckle at how she fiddles her fingers, how she avoids your gaze, and really just her all nervous like this. it’s cute, she’s cute. 

(everytime you’re with her, it seems that you fall more and more.

it seems impossible, but she finds a way to make it possible everytime.)

“danielle, i mean, this is so sudden but i would love to.” you reach out to put a hand on hers, danielle feels her heartbeat start to simmer back into its normal pace. “your family is fine with it?”

“they’re the ones who suggested it actually, and i know that one time when we were trainees you said you always wanted to visit where i grew up and i got giddy that time just thinking about it so of course i jumped at the idea and–” she cuts herself off after looking back up to see you. you’re grinning and your head is leaning against the headboard now. “sorry, i’m–”

“no, i like it. i’ll go.”

danielle sighs in relief. “okay good because i had bought the tickets a month ago when you mentioned staying in seoul for a week–”

“what?” 

all you can do is laugh again, making danielle laugh too. 

-

the first interaction you had with danielle had already piqued your curiosity. the memory replays in your head as you wait for the coffee you had ordered in the airport.

you were a new trainee, fumbling through the maze of hallways in search of the training room you had been reassigned to at the last minute. your korean was rudimentary at best—reading it was manageable, but grasping the full meaning took considerable effort and time. conversations were a challenge, your speech a mix of broken sentences and unintentional informalities that made interactions awkward.

every sign you passed seemed to blur together, each character a puzzle you struggled to piece together. the unfamiliar surroundings only heightened your anxiety, making every misstep feel monumental. your heart raced with a mix of frustration and determination as you looked down at the paper in your hand, clearly too focused on it as you collided with someone.

“shit–” you whisper, then rush out a botched, formal “sorry,”

you look at the girl in front of you, waving her hand and patting herself down. she looks at you worriedly, then says a little too quickly, “im so sorry! are you okay? i should’ve looked where i was going!”

“what?” you say in english. she’s speaking formally, it’s hard to decipher with your limited vocabulary and experience with others. you shake your head and mutter in accented korean, “sorry, w-what did you, um, what did you say?”

“ah,” the realization hits her, your confusion and accent told her enough. “do you speak english?”

her accent is strong, very recognizable which helps your body relax. she’s aussie, thank god. you think to yourself, then nod at the girl. 

“yes, fluently. my korean is not the best, sorry. it takes a bit to understand.”

“it’s no problem! i was just asking if you’re okay– i really should’ve watched where i was going.”

hurriedly, you wave your hands in the air. “no! no. i wasn’t looking, i was trying to read the paper and clashed into you.”

“it’s alright, at least we’re both fine!” you loved her radiant energy the moment you met her. the girl, you had bumped into already seemed to calm you down. even the first meeting, a simple collision, brought you some peace despite all of your stress as a trainee. “you’re having trouble with the paper? let me help.”

you hand her the paper. “thank you so much.”

“no worries, really.” she says before reading. “it says you’re moved to room 153– oh! i was just heading there!”

“really?”

“yeah! come with me!”

“thank you so much… um, your name?”

“danielle! yours?”

you take some time to examine her. danielle is really pretty, and if you hadn’t bumped into her at first you would’ve spent more time admiring her face. she had these beauty marks on her face that could rival any constellation, and the way her eyes lit up without even trying was enough to keep you captivated.

you gulped. “y/n.”

“pretty name.” she says, then grabs your hand and drags you in the other direction. “you know,” she giggles, “maybe it was a miracle that you ran into me.”

it was nothing short of a miracle, and honestly, it felt like something beyond that. had you not bumped into her that day, you might never have found your way to the training room. more importantly, you wouldn’t have met the person who would become your friend. danielle, with her effortless kindness and patience, helped you navigate and bear with the troubles of being a trainee in a place away from home. she assisted you in improving your korean, and provided the emotional support you desperately needed. she was your rock.

without danielle, you would have been lost, both literally and figuratively. her guidance made everything seem less overwhelming; she turned every challenge into a manageable task, and somehow, she managed to stay upbeat too. 

if it weren’t for her, you probably wouldn’t have debuted, you really wouldn’t have come this far.

and without her influence, you wouldn’t be in the airport trying to find her so you can give her that latte she wanted you to order. you catch her in the blue hoodie she had been wearing, walking towards her immediately and watching her eyes crinkle when she sees you. even with her mask on, she’s lovely.

–

seeing danielle reunite with her family almost brings tears to your eyes. she’s crying as she hugs her sister, mom, and dad, you smile at the sight. it’s clear she’s missed them; who wouldn’t miss the people they loved most while being a long flight away?

“oh! y/n, come here!” danielle pulls away from her parents to drag you over by the hand. 

her mom looks you up and down, smiling at your awkward self in your oversized graphic t-shirt and sweatpants. she puts her hands on either side of your shoulder, then pulls you in for a hug. “y/n, it’s great to see you again.”

“likewise.” you hug her back.

danielle’s dad joins in, wrapping his arms around you two as well. “don’t leave me out!” and it prompts danielle’s sister to hug you too.

“hey! i want hugs too!” danielle jumps over, and now you’re engulfed in a multihug, but who would complain?

–

“no really, it’s alright! i don’t want to trouble you any more. i can settle myself in, really.” you’re trying your best to fight off each attempt at helping you relax into the guest room next to danielle’s, dismissing every family member until it’s danielle.

she pouts. “you sure? are you posssiiittivveeee~”

“dani,” you hold her fingers. “i’m so positive that i’m negative.” you put a hand up to interrupt her before she even speaks. “and no that doesn’t mean i need your help, seriously. go see your family, i’ll meet you all soon.”

she’s frowning now. “fine, fine. meet in the living room?”

“yes, i’ll take ten minutes tops.”

“you sure?”

“more positive than a plus sign.”

danielle giggles, and so do you. she holds both of your hands and you two stare at each other for a good while. she’d love to spend a few minutes helping you unpack. the action is mundane, but that’s what she likes to do most with you. she could be watching paint dry and as long as it’s with you, she’d enjoy every second. 

you forget how to breathe for a moment until she releases her hands. she winks at you, then heads out the door, leaving you flushed.

you wonder how you’ll survive for the next few days.

–

you manage to survive the first day. it consists of you following danielle around (not that you’re against it) and your eyes widening with each new sight.

every car ride, your head is angled towards the window, captivated by the passing scenery. danielle’s gaze also falls on the window, but not for the view it offers. instead, she watches you, memorizing your features with a quiet intensity. she already knows every contour of your face by heart; a simple touch, even blindfolded, would be enough for her to recognize you. 

you, however, are too entranced by the world outside to notice her adoration. the vibrant trees, the shimmering water in the distance, and the people going about their lives with smiles on their faces all hold your attention. the landscape unfolds like a living painting, and you are lost in its beauty.

danielle finds her own kind of beauty in watching you, her heart swelling with each small expression of wonder that crosses your face.

from morning to sunset, the day is filled with shared giggles, smiles, and endless affection. danielle leads you to each of her favorite spots in the city, eagerly sharing the anecdotes that make each place special to her. the two of you are like peas in a pod—she talks and talks, and you listen intently, soaking up every word.

as you explore the city together, danielle's excitement is infectious. she points out the café where she first realized espresso based drinks weren’t all that bad. then she takes you to the park where she used to sit and clear her mind, mentioning that she dropped an ice cream cone at a bench near a tall tree as a child. and you learn that the little bookstore tucked away in a quiet alley is where she discovered her favorite novel. each place holds a piece of her heart, and she's sharing it all with you.

(another piece of her heart, you, mingling with the others like puzzle pieces clicking together.)

you let her take as many pictures as she wants, capturing every moment to savor later. whether it's a candid shot of you laughing at one of her stories, a moment where you’re caught of guard, or a scenic view of the sunset you both admire; you pose willingly, knowing how much these memories mean to her. because really, you'll do anything for danielle. her joy is your joy, and her stories are now part of your shared narrative, weaving a tapestry of cherished memories that belong to both of you now.

when the two of you make it back home to her home in the evening after a tiring, eventful day with her and her family, you realize that yeah, you’re in love with her.

you’re in love with her beyond anything, you could breathe danielle.

it’s never been a question, really, loving her and all. but you’ve seen her at each moment in time and your first day with her where she grew up ties the knot tighter. it should hurt your heart, the feeling that it might not be reciprocated, but you’re too distracted by how happy she is to plate everyone’s dinner to let it get to you.

besides, maybe your grandma was right. 

you trust her intuition, but you need some more reassurance.

–

on the second day in the afternoon, you’re helping out her grandparents with cooking pastries. you’re mixing the batter for banana bread and danielle’s chin is on her palm as she watches you attentively. 

a soft tune is playing and you're humming along, the melody bringing a relaxed smile to your face. the family dog, jinni, keeps brushing against your leg, wagging her tail eagerly. your laughter rings out, light and infectious, and danielle can't help but think that your laughter is much more pleasing to the ear than whatever plays in the background. 

danielle's gaze remains fixed on you, a tender smile forming on her lips as she watches you interact with jinni. there's something mesmerizing about the way you move, the way you laugh, and the effortless joy you radiate. 

her reverie is interrupted when her sister taps her shoulder, pulling her back to the present moment. danielle turns, humming softly in response, but her thoughts are still with you, the image of your laughter lingering in her mind.

“dani, you’re in love.”

“lower your voice!” danielle hushes her. “i– i’m not.”

“you look like the lead of a romance film.”

“well,” danielle sighs in defeat after glancing at you again. her grandma has found a small spoon and is scooping a bit of the batter to feed you. your eyes light up, and the way your teeth show could stop a storm, danielle thinks. "ugh, it's just, i adore her."

“that’s evident.”

danielle laughs and playfully nudges her sister, then rests her hadn on her palm again.

“she’s beautiful and sweet and– how could someone not love her?”

“you’ve been in love with her ever since you gushed about the ‘pretty girl not from here that can basically only speak english’ when you were a trainee, dani.”

she groans in response and leans against her sister as she watches you again. you pour the batter into the prepared tray, then look over at danielle. you motion for her to walk over and she gets up immediately, but not before catching the knowing look from her sister.

you hold the spatula up and order, “taste.” before she laughs and licks the batter off of it. you raise your brows. “good, right? it’s not too sweet and the perfect amount of banana.”

“it’s amazing.” she fights the urge to say that you are too.

–

danielle takes you to three beaches on the third day, you enjoy watching her splash her feet around in the water before dragging you in, almost soaking the upper half of your linen pants.

“hey! i don’t have a change of clothes!”

“then be quicker!” she says in between giggles, “don’t be a scaredy cat!”

“i’m not!”

her sister follows the two of you to the pier-like structure, a rocky outcrop covered in green organisms that squish underfoot, eliciting a mix of surprised noises from you and laughter from both danielle and her sister. the scene is serene, with the sound of waves lapping against the rocks in the background. 

danielle takes your hand, guiding you along despite the squishy algae underfoot. she shares another anecdote, this time about how she and her sister used to swim until they were the last ones in the water, far out where the bigger waves crashed. you listen intently, captivated by her storytelling, and without realizing it, your fingers intertwine. her hand may be smaller, but it fits perfectly in yours, as if they were meant to be connected all along.

as danielle reminisces, her eyes sparkle with fond memories, and a soft smile plays on her lips. the gentle breeze ruffles your hair as you both stand there, sharing a moment that feels suspended in time, it really feels like you’re stuck in time and place the longer you stare. her features are highlighted by the rays of sun shining and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of her.

“you guys look like a couple.”

at the same time, you and danielle turn your heads around, cheeks pooling with embarrassment. “hey!” danielle shouts, but her hand doesn’t leave yours, and neither does she step away from you.

the thought of looking like you’re together doesn’t bother you one bit, if anything, it seems right.

–

her, her family, and you all go to the last beach together with clothing suited for swimming. danielle ends up dragging you toward the water eagerly, she makes you trip and fall. the taste of saltwater overwhelms your tongue, and before you know it, you’re grabbing danielle and dragging her down with you.

laughter fills the air, her family joins in on the splashing, and her dad has managed to splash you so hard that you slip and fall again. the feeling is overwhelming, your heart might burst.

after you all spend time in the water, the rest of the time at the beach is spent on a towel where the sand is. you dig your feet into the sand, as you listen to her parents sharing stories that make you smile wide – you’ve already been smiling so much the whole trip, but they manage to make you smile more and more. it’s apparent that danielle is the way she is because of how wonderful her family is, and maybe you’re just as wonderful after being around her these past years.

“y/n, did you go to the beach often when you were younger?”

your head shoots up at the question her mom asked, you hum. 

“mhm.” your feet dig into the sand a little deeper. “we lived a one hour train ride from a really pretty beach, i learned how to swim there. my grandpa used to fish too, he’d catch one or two fish for us and make either a soup or grill it over rice. and sometimes he’d bring his ukulele so my grandma and i could sing as the sun started to set. i would always fall asleep and wake up on his shoulder as we boarded the train, and then on the way home i was always asleep on my grandma.”

it’s silent for a moment until danielle breaks it. “y/n, that’s so sweet.”

“yeah.” you fight back tears, biting your lip and managing a smile. “being at the beach with you all makes me as happy as i was then too.”

“well i’m really glad, your presence has given us much joy.” her dad says. you look up and giggle.

“yes, and i bet making me fall into the water did too.”

everyone laughs at the playful retort. all of you continue to reminisce and enjoy the scene until her mom decides it’s time to get going. danielle lingers near you, her arm linking with yours because she’s cold and you’re allegedly ‘almost as warm as the sun.’

danielle also lets you fall asleep against her, a light snore making her family turn their heads to see her taking a picture of you and smiling.

“you two are adorable, you know.” her mom says softly, not wanting to wake you up.

danielle nods. “she is.”

–

later that night danielle accompanies you on a late night walk. initially, you wanted to go alone to clear your mind – not that you were troubled, but because you needed designated alone time. however, danielle is a worrier, and for you, it’s tenfold.

her arm brushes yours every now and then, she doesn’t fill the silence knowing how you are. the feeling in the air is calming and every worry is gone.

you look ahead and practically breathe out, “dani.”

“yeah?”

“i’m really happy.”

“i’m glad.”

“like, so happy.”

she moves to hold your hand again, your fingers interwining purposefully. “i’m happy that you are.”

"i'm really overwhelmed," you sigh softly, finding respite on a small bench nestled in the park where you've wandered together. sitting beside her, you pause, a mix of happiness and longing evident in your eyes. "seeing you with your family... it just fills me with this warmth. you know, i've never had that closeness with my parents. they've never really understood or supported me. you know how it is." you confess, feeling her reassuring grip tighten around you.

you tilt your head back, gazing up at the sky painted in hues of twilight, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "i'm not jealous, not at all, like, seriously. it's just... i'm so happy. your family is so loving and wonderful, and you," you turn to meet her eyes, heart swelling with affection, "you're just... yeah, really great."

she laughs quietly, leaning against you so her head is on your shoulder.

“well, you’re really great too.”

“maybe.”

“definitely.”

-

danielle coaxes you into staying in her room for a bit. she’s laid next to you on her phone and you can hear the small breaths she takes. you’re hyperaware of everything, despite being on your phone. 

you notice the way she curls up closer to you, how she puts her phone down and turns to stare at you.

“what?”

“nothing, you can keep going on your phone.”

“well now i don’t want to.”

“aw, i guess you’ll have to pay attention to me then.”

your features soften upon meeting her.

danielle has always been a sight for sore eyes. you really just wanted to pursue your dreams, singing, dancing, and being on stage. you didn’t expect to be lying next to someone so ethereal, eyes bright even in the dimmed room, making your heart skip a few beats here and there. 

what are you thinking? you want to question, you want to know if she sees the same glow in you as you do with her. is this okay? what do we have?

“you’ve always been so pretty y/n.” she breaks the silence. her hand reaches over and her kunckles graze your skin. “i can never stop staring.”

uneasiness settles in, your heart starts to roll around in your chest. it’s terrifying, the thought that everything could be mutual. you’ve always been avoidant, and especially now with her staring at you like you’re the world and beyond, you’re trying to escape her hold. 

you turn your head away to face the ceiling. “you praise me too much.”

“everytime i look at you i think… you’re the person i want to wake up next to everyday, i want to cook us breakfast and make you more than just a bowl of yogurt and berries and–” you turn to face her again, and now she’s closer. “i want to be the one that sees the sun hit your face first thing in the morning.”

“danielle i–” it’s terrifying, you never thought you’d get this far. the drowsiness and the fact that it’s past twelve makes you hesitate, people just say things at this hour. “i should go to sleep.”

“stay,” she holds your wrist.

“i’m scared.”

her eyes soften. “of?”

your lips part, and suddenly, you can't recall why fear ever gripped you in the first place. allowing yourself to be embraced by the affection of the other members had been a daunting step, but growing under danielle's adoration felt as effortless as reciting your abcs. it came naturally, flowing with ease and simplicity. there was never a need to second-guess, never a hesitation.

she blinks, then her eyes land on your lips, and back to your eyes.

“i, i don’t know.”

“then stay.” she mumbles, her voice is soft and low before she takes your breath away.

she kisses you and everything around you fades into nothing because all you can focus on is her. the way her hand holds your face, so gently as if you might break if it were any rougher, makes you melt. you’ve never kissed anyone, but thankfully she’s the first. and the soft feeling of her top lip sliding in between your own lips makes you think that you really want her to be the last too.

she pulls away and you both pause for a moment, basking in the moment before meeting again. flowers bloom, waves crash, thunder claps; danielle is kissing you and nothing has every felt better.

the two of you pull away to stare at each other in awe, that is, until you lean in eagerly again it catches her by surprise. her arms are around your neck and she starts to giggle as you climb on top of her, peppering kisses along the curve of her jaw, down to her neck, and the dip of her collarbone. 

“i love you.” it sounds out like a prayer.

“i love you more.”

“no way.” you roll your eyes before attacking her with kisses again until she’s trying to push you off from how ticklish it all is.

the night draws to a close with your head nestled comfortably on danielle's shoulder, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on your scalp. a sense of calm settles over you both, sleep slowly claiming your consciousness. your heartbeats synchronize and your breathing steadies, the shared intimacy deepens, until you’re cocooned in a mutual understanding.

in the quiet of the night, danielle shifts, prompting you to instinctively roll closer, draping an arm over her from behind. your hands find each other naturally, fingers intertwining even while you’re both dead asleep.

-

[danielle PHONING update]

🐶: hi everyone! i’ve been on vacation 🐶: i’ve never been happier, really. 🐶: take care of yourselves and stay healthy! 🐶: i’m very happy, seriously attachment: six images

minji stares at the notification, still half asleep, but as she scrolls through each photo, a soft smile graces her lips. she admires the picturesque beach view, the shirt danielle had bought, and the adorable snapshot of her dog.

her eyes widen with surprise at the last three pictures, but a warmth spreads through her heart. in the first, she sees the side of your face against a backdrop of a stunning sunset. the next captures you and danielle leaning into each other, a moment of intimacy frozen in time. the final photo shows you gazing into the distance, danielle's hand playfully squishing your cheeks together, both of you making silly duck faces with laughter lighting up your eyes.

and then another notification pops up, making minji nearly choke on the water she had sipped on.

[danielle PHONING update]

🐶: almost forgot this one ;-) attachment: one image

the picture shows you being kissed on the cheek by danielle, your cheeks burning from the contact. 

a few seconds later she gets a call, the contact ‘bbang hanni’ popping up at the top of her screen. minji picks up immediately.

“did you see?”

“i saw.” minji says, still staring at the picture. “we are so interrogating them when they’re back.”

“good cop bad cop?”

“good cop bad cop.”