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allforhee · 4 months ago

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— 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (ONESHOT) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secretary-general!lee heeseung x delegate!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — kinda angsty but with happy ending, high school au, secgen/crisis delegate!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, a brief moment of rivals in public but lovers in secret, one sided rivalry

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms (hope you guys can understand), cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung highkey hates reader, reader is a bit feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, aespa's winter aka minjeong, txt's yeonjun and beomgyu, stray kids’ i.n, gidle's shuhua, and ive's wonyoung, one bed trope, forced proximity

୨୧ word count — 13.3k (not proofread, but will slowly edit/make changes to tiny minor mistakes found)

୨୧ author's note — dear readers, i'm back from a long overdue hiatus with a new layout and theme! this fic is long as HELL i didn't expect it to reach this long omg. i also changed up a couple details so it will be quite different from the teaser! i’m so sorry for the long overdue wait, senior year of high school has been so hectic, and i’ve been finally able to finish this so enjoy :) omg holy shit y’all are finally reading my full length fic i’ve been harboring since what? february?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against his stance. whenever it was, whether it was a moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

there was no doubt that no one had ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general, and those who chose to go against him either got crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal to any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

you were quiet at first. everyone just saw you as the new girl who transferred for her senior year. nobody cared. until decelis high's annual mun conference, which happened to take place a couple weeks after the first day of school.

students from all over the country gathered at decelis high once a year to join in on the fun. various councils were presented at decelis mun, from heeseung's favorite council, crisis, and multiple others like unhrc, who, unsc, disec, unicef, and your favorite, press.

without a doubt, you registered yourself for press, opting that you didn't have the guts to join any other council. you feared you'd tremble listening to another delegate question your stances and ideologies.

your parents would always encourage your writing. as a child, you loved to write little imaginary stories about your life as a princess. writing stories about the love you've seen in your parents, you were set to write a book. but when your mom passed away a few weeks before your senior year of high school, and your dad constantly traveling for work, you had resorted yourself to watching the news all summer long, spiking your interest in being a journalist, where all you had to do was report whatever was going on, spit out what had to be said, and done. you didn't need to think long and hard on what your character was supposed to do next to support the storyline, no opinions, no biases.

as you stepped into your assigned council's room, you felt a gush of wind. the nervousness had gotten to you more, seeing all the socially bright journalists with their laptops open and chatting amongst each other happily.

"hi! you're a new face! oh and you're cnn! me and you will be best buddies! bbc here!" a girl squeals, she has a bright smile and a oh-so friendly demeanor. no doubt a popular trait amongst the press council.

"minjeong! don't scare her off. we're so sorry, she sometimes comes off a bit too much to new people. i'm wonyoung, the co-chair for press." she introduces herself.

"oh, hello. i'm y/n. i just transferred to decelis this year. it's my first time at press." you smile. you lost all your socialite cheerfulness over the summer, but meeting minjeong and wonyoung felt like you've been recharged. "oh and i'm the journalist for cnn?"

the girls take a glance at your nametag, examining you, before wonyoung cuts, "first time? don't worry sweetheart, we'll tell you all about it! right hoonie?"

a tall figure walks up to the three of you, no doubt a intimidating face. "y/n right? i'm sunghoon, the chair for press." he asks.

"yes yes this is her! oh we've got to tell her all about press! first timer alert!" wonyoung beams, before entangling her hand with sunghoon's. there was no doubt that the two were a couple.

"ugh, okay you two cut it off! we're journalists, we gotta be professional!" minjeong argues, playfully slapping wonyoung's arm, causing her to let go of sunghoon's.

at first, you had no idea what you were stepping into. but when chair sunghoon welcomed you to press with his icy-blue eyes and quiet demeanor, the other journalists supporting each other when it came to writing their articles, you felt right at home.

it didn't feel like it, but two days of endless debates went on, countries arguing left and right, and articles written on the current hot topic. the tension was surely rising, and your fingers were tired.

you were glad it was all over.

at every post-conference social, before awards were handed out, the articles the journalists from press wrote would be released to the conference for the other delegates to read. besides their usual gossip box, the articles the press wrote were always the fuel to the fire.

one article stuck up to heeseung. it read; "secretary-general heeseung's love for crisis interferes chair jongseong's chairing process, now who's really chairing crisis?"

heeseung swore to himself that he's never seen a girl like you. so quiet yet so powerful in her writing. hearing rumors that you've only just recently transferred to decelis high. even sunghoon himself was surprised to meet a talented journalist like you, a first-timer at press.

"it was her first time?" heeseung protested, "i mean- she's so quiet and reserved, if she had been doing press for years, i wouldn't be surprised. but this is her first time?!"

"what do you mean she's quiet? look at hoon, he never says a word in comses, but look at him chairing press. and i would never mind you tagging along in crisis, you always give out good insights." jay interrupts his thoughts.

heeseung complains, "i understand that, but her innocent face says nothing to what she wrote about me!"

"her articles were critical. they were precise and to the point. there was never a single weak spot in her articles. i think she's gonna make a run for my position." sunghoon defends.

"it's just one article hee, it won't affect your entire track record anyways." jake compliments, giving him a pat on the back.

heeseung believed what jake said was true. he did have an outstanding track record. "best delegate"s here and there, one silly little article wouldn't ruin his entire reputation.

as the clock strikes seven, social night was slowly coming to a close. decelis high's third annual mun was coming to an end. all that was left was to hand out the awards.

heeseung made his secretary-general speech as usual, a couple thank you-s here and there, before he handed it over to the chairs to announce the awards.

as he was walking down the stage, he felt a couple stares from mostly the press council linger. fixing his tie, he shook it off before taking a seat in the front row.

awards were handed, from best position papers, verbal commendations, honorable mentions, most outstanding delegates, and of course, best delegates.

the press council was saved for last. sunghoon asked heeseung if he could be given more time to rethink his options for the awards, and as his best mate, he let him. in reality, sunghoon didn't need time to rethink his options. he and wonyoung knew who was going to win best journalist. sunghoon just wanted to save the best for last.

when heeseung hears sunghoon's announcement for best journalist, it clicks.

"and the press council's best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

cheers could be heard from across the conference room. minjeong practically jumping on you when they heard your name mentioned. you rushed to the stage with a red face and a still shocked reaction, receiving the certificate along with the medal. wonyoung gave you the biggest bear hug known to man, whilst sunghoon gave you a firm handshake.

you felt the cameras flashing at you, taking pictures from what felt like every single angle. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was glaring at you from the front row.

best journalist. best journalist? his mind was running all over the place. how could he? how could sunghoon, his best friend, let such a writer like you, who wrote a devious article about him, win best delegate?

a single glance at the other delegates of the press council only angered him more. amongst them were laughs and snickers. he swore he heard a journalist say; "looks like mister secgen is upseeet!" but decelis mun only happened once a year. he wouldn't have the need to care about you every other day.

or so he thought.

heeseung felt like you were everywhere. at every lunch break, you were always sitting across his and the boys' table, laughing at nonsense with yunjin and wonyoung. during free periods, you'd be at the library, hunched over your laptop or head deep in a book. and at mun club, you just had to be there.

he hated that you were gifted like him. he hated that his friends favored you. he hated that sunghoon would always send you to their rival school's muns to participate in their press councils. he hated that you always won. he hated that you were clouding his mind every single day.

you hadn't but uttered a single "thank you," to lee heeseung. as decelis high's secretary-general, you didn't think he'd care about you. you were just a writer. you had no strength in the debate field, no reason for lee heeseung to care. but why was he being so cold?

it started when you applied for the harvard model congress. you were ecstatic to find out you'd be attending the conference. obviously, you told minjeong and wonyoung all about it. even striking up small talk with sunghoon.

"that's amazing y/n. i mean, harvard model congress? that's big!" his tooth-rotting smile bringing a cheerful mood.

"you went from winning best journalist in schools across the state to varsity level in just a few months!" minjeong squeals, as she hugs you. you were really lucky to have such caring best friends.

laughing along in the mun club room, you could feel heeseung's glare from his desk. headphones on and focused onto his laptop screen, you felt a strange feeling resonating off of him.

heeseung was fuming. the entire club applied for harvard model congress. heeseung got in. his mates did. and of course, you also did.

it was supposed to be a three day long weekend with his mates full of debate, laughter, awards, and getting drunk on social nights. but no. you and your friends would be there too.

heeseung didn't understand why everyone was so trusting of you so easily.

even jay, was friendly with you. "well y/n, i think you're going to make a run for hee's job!"

wonyoung rolls her eyes at jay. "he should be scared. you've rose up through the ranks like jake's receeding hairline."

"hey! my hair is perfectly fine, thank you!" jake cuts, huffing at the ridiculous comment about his hair.

"yo hee! we gotta work out the letter to the school so we can get a few days off. come over here, you look like you're burning holes into your laptop!" jay chuckles, receiving a smack on the arm from jake.

a quick but surprising slam! from heeseung's laptop emitted a low echo throughout the room. followed by a ruffling of him throwing his decelis almameter over his shoulder, and another loud slam! of the mun club room's door. lee heeseung just stormed out.

"oof, what's got into him?" minjeong asks, her face contorting into an anxious look.

"i don't fucking know, he's been at it since decelis' annual mun. throwing temper tantrums left and right." jay sighs, concerned for his best friend.

"well i guess that temper is living up to my article." you suggest, letting out a huff and a subtle eyeroll.

sunghoon takes a deep breath before realization hits. "now that i think of it, he's been at it since you've joined our core team." while he points at you.

"what does that have to do with me? i didn't do shit. all i do is sit, join muns, write, and win awards for us. would he rather i'd be getting verbal commendations instead?" you sigh. you've done nothing but bring pride to decelis high's reputation.

wonyoung laughs, patting you on the back. "it's not about winning verbcom or bestdel, it's about heeseung finally finding his match."

"exactly! he's gone on and on about constantly winning at every mun. he's always complained about needing more of a challenge. and no shit he's been jealous of your achievements." minjeong pipes in.

"that's ridiculous. i don't understand crisis as much as he does, i'm just a journalist on the press council! he's basically just being an ass to me, that's all." you confessed, you and heeseung were basically on different levels. he was secgen and lover of crisis councils, whilst you were just one of the head journalists and co-editors of the press division.

"maybe he likes you? i don't know!" jake squeals, lifting his shoulders in question. jay and sunghoon gives him a slap on the shoulder each, a glaring stare between the three.

"no no, lee heeseung is a cold-hearted son of a bitch with an ego to feed every other day, there's no way he can feel shit." minjeong debates, a hint of anger in her voice.

"woah girl, what's got you mad? i get you two grew up together but that's a lot to say about heeseung." wonyoung asks her.

"i know it's a long story, but y/n deserves to know. right?" minjeong asks, waiting for you to nod to continue. "every single day of my life, i was my parents' star girl. i love my parents for supporting me. but ever since heeseung moved in next door, i was demoted from best girl in the neighborhood to second best to heeseung. ever since we were eight, heeseung didn't like to lose. to a boy he'd be a good sport. but when he lost to me in a mere storytelling competition, he'd throw a tantrum. that's heeseung to me. he's nothing but an egotistical ass who has to win everything."

you sigh, hearing minjeong’s words. "and you know what y/n?" she continues, "he's never lost it since we were 13. and you, y/n, have officially made him lose his mind. again."

this year's harvard model congress was held at seoul national university, the dream university of many korean students. the seven of you stayed at a hotel nearby, settling in.

sunghoon picks up the keycards at the check-in counter, "okay so there's three rooms in total, the girls are sharing, me and jake are in one room, which leaves heeseung and jay—"

"i'm sorry sir," the hotel staff interrupts him, "but the rooms are already divided by the hotel and cannot be changed. it says here, room 745 is for miss kim and miss yang, room 746 is for mister park, mister sim, and the other mister park— mister jongseong, and room 777 is for—"

"great. thank you. alright, let's settle in and get ready for opening night." heeseung sighs, grabbing his suitcase and your shared room's keycards before heading to the elevators. you gave the rest of the group a shaky smile before following heeseung.

the moment you two entered the lift, and as heeseung tapped the keycard and pressing the button for the seventh floor, you could feel the tension.

as the lift begins to move upwards, heeseung lets out a sigh. "look, l/n. we're sharing a room by casuality, so don't make it a big deal."

you huff shakily, "a big deal? you're the one who's been avoiding me all year! i barely disturb you and all i do is win awards for decelis. what else do you want from me?" your voice slowly getting angrier.

as heeseung opens his mouth to answer, the lift comes to a halt as its doors open, signaling that they've reached the seventh floor.

heeseung holds the lift doors open, so you can exit it with ease. you were surprised with this gesture. coming from him who could care less about your presence, you were baffled.

as you both reach at your hotel room, heeseung gave you one of the three keycards given before tapping his at the hotel room's door.

and as if your romance stories came to life, you spotted an oh-so familiar trope sitting in the middle of your hotel room. there was only one king-sized bed.

"shut the front door." you sighed, looking at the clear situation in front of you.

heeseung entered behind you, "i clearly have, what are you talking abou—"

"no dumbass, it was a metaphor. i'm talking about this." you exclaimed, pointing your finger at the bed.

"great. i'll call up room service and get this sorted—"

"no it's fine, it'll be too much of a hassle and social night is in two hours. besides, we're civil adults, and we're here for only two nights. we can bear 72 hours living through this stupid one bed trope."

"fine. just so you know i'm taking the left side."

heeseung dropped his bag near his side, as he was trying his best to keep his composure. sharing a room with you was bad enough (that's what he keeps telling himself), but a bed as well? he'd rather win verbal commendation than share a bed with you.

you were unpacking your necessities before you decided to break the ice. "heeseung just so you know—"

but before you could finish, heeseung was already out the door. before the door closed, you could hear a mere; "i'll go down for social night. you do you." and a click! of the door.

you scanned the room that was once filled with such tension, spotting your room keycard on the bedside table.

you took off your sweater and switched to something a bit classier for social night, changing to a blood red dress you had packed to match harvard's colors. minjeong and wonyoung had helped you choose it a couple days prior, the conversation reappearing in your mind.

"harvard's got nothing on you with that dress! watch out best journalist!" minjeong hypes you up as you're trying it on in the changing room.

"are you sure it's not a bit too much?" you questioned, feeling insecure in the dress.

"too much? my guess is heeseung would drop dead seeing you in that dress. after all, he is in love with you." wonyoung giggles, which earns her a slap on her arm from winter.

"just own it y/n. maybe layer it with a leather jacket if you get cold?" minjeong suggests. you look at yourself in the mirror once more. maybe this would be the turning point between you and heeseung's rivalry. maybe he'd look at you and decide that he no longer hated you and instead loved y— no. enough of those thoughts.

as you touched up your makeup from earlier this morning, you headed out to find wonyoung and minjeong waiting at the lobby.

"there you are— oh that dress looks, damn!" minjeong exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the utter shock.

"i just know heeseung's going to gape at that dre—" before wonyoung could finish her sentence, she earns a smack on her arm from minjeong. "ow minie! i don't want my arm to be black and blue at social night! which starts in... thirty minutes. we should get to campus and fill in our registrations so we're set."

opening night was a blast. harvard model congress knew how to throw a goddamn banger of a opening night.

there were so many things to see. a karaoke booth, a photobooth station, a merch station, even a snack booth filled to the brim with various snacks and drinks.

after receiving your lanyards and a couple papers where you'd find your assigned councils for the next day, you, wonyoung, and minjeong, were set to let lose one last time before you were head deep into your laptops, writing articles for the next three days.

entering the room littered with decorations and other delegates, you and the girls entered the ballroom hand in hand, in awe with the decor.

wonyoung spotted the boys immediately, already saving a table for the seven of you. the three of you walked to the table, which had name plates for all your names. wonyoung next to sunghoon, jay next to jake, minjeong on your right next to you, and heeseung on your left.

sitting at the assigned seats and listening to the opening remarks by harvard model congress' secretary-general, the food was served and you all dug in.

although this was only the first of two social nights, you and the girls had to make the best of it. from abusing the “free photobooths!” booth, and filling the room with echoes of musical ballads, your first night at harvard model congress was deemed memorable.

before you knew it, you were dragged to the back of the room, as wonyoung pulled out a small paper bag—which turns out to hold a couple bottles of liquor, you grabbed your glasses and started pouring.

you could see out of the corner of your eye—the girls downing shots of tequila (in secret, cause you didn't want to get caught), and the guys coming along to take a shot or two. but heeseung looked, tense.

jake slapped him on the back, giggling, “come on man, loosen up a bit! mun isn’t all about the awards and the roles, it’s about the memories!”

“and the friends we make along the way, am i right?” jay chimed in, with a teasing tone.

before you knew it, heeseung grabbed an entire bottle and downed what was equivalent to maybe 4 shots, wonyoung squealed, arguing the fact that it was a very expensive bottle of liquor.

“dude! that’s from my dad’s cabinet, it’s at least 500.000 won!” she argued, grabbing the bottle out of his hands.

as you tried to ignore his gaze, minjeong gave you your first shot—which you downed immediately, but it only made you feel like heeseung’s gaze was burning holes into you more.

heeseung sighed, “give me another one.” holding his hand out for someone to pour him a shot. “come on, i don’t got all day.” before sunghoon poured him another shot—which he downed immediately.

you hated the feeling of his stare. it felt, uncomfortable, but you liked it? the more he stared, the more you downed more shots. before you knew it, opening night came to a close, and you were stumbling your way down the hallway with wonyoung and minjeong, before finally finding your room. and in your drunken state, you passed out.

burning pain. your eyes couldn’t handle the bright light emitting from what seemed to be all around you. as you open your eyes, head spinning, you flopped back down onto your bed, exhausted, and with the hotel room ac, you felt frozen.

but as you get comfortable onto the bed once more, you feel a sense of warmth engulf your body. it felt welcoming. comfortable. maybe a bit too comfortable for your sake. but the warmth was soothing. it was, moving?

you shot back out of the bed, trying to rub your eyes to focus back onto the warmth, but that warmth pulled you back into its embrace. as if it needed you to survive.

as you try to recollect the events of last night, your usual 7am alarm rung. what a great way to ruin the moment.

a groan echoed from that warmth you once clung to, a familiar sound, a familiar… voice?

“l/n, what time is it?” it asked.

fuck.

"chill y/n, you'll be fine." you whisper to yourself, walking to your assigned council's room. from the rest of the journalists in your gang, you had been assigned to report on different councils. while wonyoung and winter were assigned to report on the ASEAN council, sunghoon to report on the UNHRC council, you were unfortunately assigned to the crisis council. just to your luck. your mind was still stuck in what happened this morning. you met your chairs, shuhua and beomgyu, role call was held, and your first committee session began.

while you were typing away a starting paragraph for an article, a bright face comes to greet you. "oh hello, l/n y/n right? i'm jungwon, the journalist for KBS! i sit right next to you in our council room."

"oh hello! i'm y/n, reporting for the new york times, it's nice to meet you." you smile, offering a hand out for him to shake, which he accepts.

"so, you got assigned to crisis too huh?" jungwon asks as you nod, "honestly it's one of the worse councils to report on because everything is moving... too fast." he sighs.

"i don't mind the speed, it gives me inspiration to write. but everyone has their capacities right?" you try to reason, whilst jungwon gives an agreeing nod.

not long after some small talk before you could enter crisis' council room, another boy tags along. his bright smile clearly infectious as you and jungwon couldn't help but smile at his bright appearance.

"annyeong! nice to meet you i'm sunoo!" he smiles, his blonde hair reflecting the lights in the room.

you shake his hand as a boy with blonde hair and black streaks tags along behind him before slapping the blonde’s arm, "i'm nishimura riki, you can call me riki. can’t believe i flew all the way from tokyo for this."

“yah! your writing is fine riki, your good shots will steal the show.” sunoo assures him, before looking back at you, and smiling.

riki sighs, before turning on his camera “i wanna get the redhead over there, heard he’s super good at mun or something..”

you blink as you realize riki was talking about none other than—heeseung.

"oh him? yeah he's my secgen." you tell him, the sentence floating out of your mouth. jungwon and sunoo turn to you with gaping mouths.

"wait- what? he's YOUR secgen? THE lee heeseung?" jungwon exclaims.

you furrow your eyebrows, "um, yeah? what's the big deal about him?"

sunoo's face lights up, as he prepares his words. "girl, he's the most highest ranking student in the high school mun circuit! his countless awards and times he's chaired makes him a legend. he's a literal model un weapon, even delegates with the veto powers are scared of him." he explains.

as you open your mouth to respond to his comment about heeseung, one of the chairs of the crisis council exits the room to greet you.

"ah hello journalists, you're here. i'm yeonjun, the head chair for crisis. we currently have unmod going on right now so you're just in time. we'll give you guys a couple opportunities to interview the delegates, but please be mindful." he explains.

you and the three boys smile back at him, before he opens the council room door and lets you in.

"delegates! i'd like to introduce to you all the journalists from the international press institute council, who will be observing our committee session. we have yang jungwon from KBS, kim sunoo from associated press, nishimura riki from NHK, and y/n l/n from the new york times. please treat them with the upmost respect.

a couple delegates say their greetings, and even explaining the current debate going on, as the four of you smile back at them. the crisis council was a popular council, and you can tell that from the amount of delegates in the room.

as you return your laptop back into your messenger bag and pulling out a notepad, a pen, and some sticky notes, you look back up only to lock eyes with heeseung. his gaze was deadly. you give him a slight smile, which he responds with an eyeroll.

the only thing you hated about being a journalist was the interviews. you needed to research, but having to interact with people you don't know? you'd rather kill yourself. it just happened that heeseung's stance was interesting enough for you to pass a post-it note to him, which he threw away.

so you were surprised to see him walk towards you during break, as you had thought he had rejected your interview offer.

"l/n, you wanted to interview me?" he'd asked you, no bad tone in his voice.

you looked at him surprised, kinda shocked, "umm, yeah? are you okay with that."

"i'm good. just, make it quick."

you open your notes to find your question you wanted to ask him, "um, do you mind if i record?" you asked, which he nodded. "okay, so as the delegate of colombia, what steps would you take to face the ongoing drug trade happening in your country? as a journalist, we have not seen you speak up much lately, so i'd like to know your thoughts."

"um, thank you for the interesting question, well i think—"

it was unlike him to treat you like this. unlikely for him to keep his cool. as you try to remember the words he was saying as you hold out your phone to record him, nothing was catching on. it was as if words went in one ear and out the other.

he was so professional. the way he walks, and the way he talks—the way his lips move when he talks, the way he explains his stance—the way he’s saying the words—the way his lips move to pronounce it, oh and the way he-

“l/n? are you done? i’m wasting my precious break time here.” heeseung asks you, breaking you out of that trance.

you compose yourself, hitting the stop button on the voice recorder app, “oh yeah, sorry, i was thinking of another question to ask you—got carried away…”

heeseung rolls his eyes at you, before thanking you and scurrying away.

what had gotten into you? you’ve never seen heeseung in that way before. he’s always been just a secretary-general to you. who also happens to hate you. you think.

but as the unmoderated caucus comes to a close, you return back to your council room, ready to write an article on heeseung’s stance. after all, you still had a day’s left worth of committee sessions, as well as a press conference held at the crisis council.

the press council room was chiming with the clicks and clacks of keyboards, journalists writing articles left and right. you were in the middle of writing once again another filler article, as you had no idea what to write for your mandatory article. as you look through your gallery, observing pictures you took earlier for your articles, you can't help but notice heeseung in his element.

as you're typing a possible title for your mandatory article, you hear from beside you, "hey, what's going on with you and heeseung?" sunoo asks, as you turn to him in shock, as you were in the middle of writing an article.

you laughed nervously, "what? nothing's going on between us. he practically hates me." you sigh.

jungwon pulls his chair over to you, placing his laptop on your table in the process, "i don't think so. not from what i saw last night."

you gasped at what he said, "and what i saw this morning! i could practically feel the tension emitting off the two of you as you were interviewing him. i've never seen a man so intrigued before." riki chimes in.

"this morning? nothing happened, i was interviewing him on his stances and whatsoever for a possible article! that's all to it!" you defend yourself, trying to get back into your article.

"y/nie, sweetie, i've seen way too many kdramas to tell that the way he's looking at you, is a look of love~" sunoo teases, smiling as if he knew something more.

jungwon and riki laughes at your expression, which seemed to resemble a disgusting look, but underneath that, you felt a sting in your heart. not a bad sting, a good sting.

"but hey you two seemed pretty cozy last night, i wonder what that was for?" jungwon asked.

riki gasps, "hey i took a picture! wait let me find it..." as he pulled out his camera, going through the camera roll. "here! you guys were dancing together a lot, and he basically was carrying you back to your room. what, did you guys get drunk or something?"

you choked on your water, as the events of last night start piecing together. "i remember taking a couple shots, he did too, but all i remember after that is falling asleep on my bed... i assumed my friends helped me to get back but now that i think of it... they were pretty drunk too."

taking another closer look at the pictures riki happened to capture, you saw two beaming smiles, and from the looks of it, it looked like you two were having fun. you've never seen him smile this much, let alone around you. the other picture resembled like a married couple. it was as if heeseung was trying to pick you up, but by the looks of your drunken states, it wasn't really working.

"wouldn't it be really funny if you guys accidentally fucked or something? that would explain the tension!" jungwon jokes.

you shake your head, before putting your face in your hands, "no way, not in a million years. our tension is, well, our tension! it's what happens normally!" you try to defend.

"no you're right won, they totally fucked. i mean the floor you guys are on? most of the rooms have king or queen sized beds. what would you guys be doing other than that? snuggling into each other till the sunrise?" riki assumes, scoffing afterwards.

your eyes widened in shock, as if jungwon cut your brain opened and took out the events of what happened this morning. you put your head in your hands once more before beginning to cry.

riki saw your reaction, "hey i didn't mean it that way! i mean it's- um... great? if you fucked? but if not then that's like, totally okay! i mean sex isn't for everyone—"

sunoo cut him off, shooing him away, "stop making it worse, ki-yah! y/nie? will you tell us what happened?"

you sniffed, not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears, maybe it was the frustration? you grabbed a tissue to compose yourself, "i don't know... all i remember is i woke up this morning, in his arms, and i just jumped out and got ready. we didn't even talk about it. all of a sudden he's back to his old self and he's being mean to me again."

you take a deep breath, sunoo rubbing you on the back, trying to calm you down. "he's been like this ever since i transferred. i was just the new girl who was a press prodigy, that's what they called me back at decelis, and i don't know, he's hated me every since. no reason whatsoever. i've tried to win his attention by winning muns and stuff but, it doesn't matter. he looks at me as if i disappoint him."

jungwon and riki both comfort you as well, before jungwon has a strike of realization. "you know, it's not that i wanna stir up delusion in your mind, but it's quite common for guys to hate someone because they like them. what if he has a crush on you?"

riki realizes as well, "yeah what if? what if all this time he's been trying so hard to hate you because he actually likes you?"

hearing the words likes you come out of their mouths makes you shudder in fear. no way he likes you. right?

before you knew it, your chair returns to announce that press conferences are due to start soon. and up first? was the crisis council.

stepping foot into the crisis room, with the information in mind, you start to notice the tiny little characteristics that match with the fact. the fact that the lee heeseung might as well have a crush on you. as you, sunoo, and two other journalists were guided to the front of the room, your chair explaining to the crisis delegates how the press conference was going to work, before giving the floor to the journalists.

you keep your head hung, distracting yourself by re-reading the questions you’ve written on your notepad, peeking through your hair, trying to take a glimpse of heeseung.

heeseung was in his element as always, head deep in his laptop, a couple volunteers passing by to give him a post-it note, filled with scribbles of other delegates wishing to be on his side. but as per usual, his critical self crumples the notes and puts it aside to his pile of other crumpled notes.

sunoo, on your left, nudges you in the arm, trying to snap you out of it. the moment you lift your head to look at the delegates and compose yourself, you catch heeseung looking at you.

with your bloodshot eyes, your usual smile fading, heeseung can’t help but notice what happened. you were fine last break. your eyes which used to be sparkling with curiosity had been traded for puffy eyes and a fake smile.

he wanted to come up to you, wanted to ask what’s wrong. but as your chair introduced the journalists, he’d wonder if it was just an impulsive thought.

each journalist had to share 10 minutes worth of press conference time to ask questions, a tight amount of time. as the journalist on your far left begins, the clock begins to tick. being the last journalist to ask, you begin to feel worried.

but as the mic is passed to you, and mere two minutes left on the clock, you scramble to compose yourself and your questions. “this journalist would like to open the question to the floor, with the excessive drug trade impacting the economy of your countries, what is an effective solution you’d have to decrease the drug circulation, but at the same time, would not damage your economy?”

placards were raised, and amongst them, were heeseung’s. you could see the colombian flag on his placard raised high, but as the journalist of the new york times, your work came first. therefore, you chose someone else. “yes, delegate of the united states?”

the delegate of the united states stood up, and you finally saw the name on his nametag. yang jeongin. he smirked at you, sending a wink. “thank you madam journalist for the intriguing question, as the drug trade across our country begins to increase…”

as you held your hand forward holding your phone out to record his answer, continuing to talk for the next minute. it felt like a lifetime. but in the corner of your eye, you could feel his gaze burning holes. heeseung held his placard high, glaring dead straight at jeongin even if he was still speaking. but as you thank jeongin for his answer, you open the question once more to the floor.

you hear a screech of the chair as heeseung, the only one holding his placard up, stands up to answer. but you don’t discern anything he says. you just stare at him. before you knew it, the clock rang, signaling that time was up.

sunoo nudged your arm once more, trying to snap you out of it. “you okay?” he asked, worry written all over his face. you nodded to tell him you were okay.

as you were escorted out of the room to head to the hotel restaurant for lunch break, you couldn't help but feel the same feeling of heeseung's gaze at the back of your head. you ignored him, walking out with sunoo by your side.

but you were stopped briefly by someone, none other than the delegate of the united states. "hey, that was a very interesting question you asked earlier at press conference. i was wondering if you need my insight on anything? given as i'm usa and you're the new york times." jeongin suggests, his usual smirk returning from before. sunoo winked at you, before leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

you blink at him, "oh! yeah, i was thinking about gaining insight from, well our country's side of the story. so what can you tell me?"

your notepad flips open along the click of your pen, ready to jot down his words, before out of the corner of your eye, that sharp gaze returns. the burning stare heeseung emitted was back. you gulped and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "hey, um jeongin? could we find somewhere a bit more quiet so i can record the interview? i need to make sure everything is clear because i need to submit the questions to my chairs."

jeongin smiled, "of course sweetheart, i know just the place." before he took your hand and led you away. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was fuming.

as the two of you walked away, heeseung couldn't help but wonder. what's so great about yang jeongin anyways? compared to himself, his track record was not all that. yeah he may have won most outstanding or honorable mention a couple times, but never best delegate. consecutively.

heeseung felt a tap on his shoulder, before briefly turning around. jay was standing there with a cup of coffee. he grabbed it out of his hands before immediately drinking out of it.

"that's! hot coffee..." jay protested. but to heeseung, his rage burned hotter. "what's got your panties in a twist?" jay asked, sipping his own cup of coffee.

"nothing, just pissed at a delegate. per usual." heeseung lied. as the two begun to make their way to restaurant to eat lunch.

jay chuckled, seeing his pissed face, "dude, i've known you for over eight years, you don't get pissed at a delegate for no reason. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, everyone here? they're basically professionals. mun legends. i wouldn't have afford this shit if i wasn't good at it. the awards and prizes helped fund this hobby."

heeseung sighed, "it's not just a delegate. it's someone else."

"it's y/n, isn't it?" heeseung snapped his head to glare at jay, as if he grew three heads. "chill dude, i can tell. you're painfully in love with her."

"no no no, you don't get it, she's a menace to my track record. do you remember back at decelis mun before she transferred? her article basically ruined my record the next five muns? i basically had to avoid chairing so the rumors wouldn't be deemed true." heeseung argued, reminiscing the times.

"but you'd argue she's a damn good writer, isn't she?" jay defended, "i mean no one from decelis has won consecutively aside from you. and she comes in to make the decelis name proud. aren't you glad? you're secgen after all. you're just in denial."

heeseung sighed, looking at his cup of coffee, once full, now empty. "i'm not in denial! i'm just stressed with a couple delegates in committee session, unmoderated caucus was, stressful."

entering the restaurant, their eyes landed to the corner booth, where you sat face to face with jeongin. jay turned his head to look at heeseung staring deadset at the two. "well, whatever floats your boat man, i'm gonna get some lunch. unsc might as well go to crisis next comses." jay pats him on the back, joining sunghoon, jake, wonyoung, and minjeong.

heeseung stood still. he couldn't help but wonder. is this what love feels like?

"so, yang jeongin, what can you tell me about the united states' stance on the current illegal drug trade? i assume that the country is fully aware of it happening?" you ask, pressing record on your voicenotes app.

jeongin looked around, before reaching over and pressing the stop recording button on your phone. before you could protest, "okay cut the crap, what's going on between you and lee heeseung?"

you looked at him strangely, not expecting the sudden confrontation. "well, nothing? i don't know what you want me to say, this isn't part of the interview."

jeongin dug into his food, "screw that shit, i wanna know why your secgen is all on my ass. i mean i looked at you once at comses earlier, and he looked at me like i lit an orphanage on fire."

you almost choked on your pasta, "what the hell, dude. he's just like that. he hates my guts so much he has to make me feel uncomfortable everywhere i go. i literally bring home decelis as many awards as he has in the past two years. i don't get him."

"nah, i don't think that's hate. he looked at me as if he was clyde and i was trying to steal away his bonnie. that's a look of love."

you sighed, "the thing is jeongin, he doesn't care. i've done everything to pique his attention, best journalist awards left and right, i was supposed to run for deputy secgen but he didn't let me. he said i wasn't a true decelis muner yet. i mean 8 muns in the span of a couple months? and i've never lost a single one? he probably hates me because i chose the lamest council."

jeongin swallows his food before he comes to realization, "hey weren't you the journalist who wrote on heeseung back at decelis' mun? i remember felix-hyung, my friend, that he went feral over it. he was chairing unicef, and in the chairs' room, he overheard heeseung talking about your article. how it was going to ruin his track record, or something."

"i mean, i do remember briefly. wonyoung, my chair, said i was allowed to write about the chairs or staff, even if they were filler articles. i wrote about heeseung and jay out of interest, i didn't know their history." you confessed, feeling quite bad about the outcome. "i didn't want my article to end up being gossip or shit talk, i just wrote what i wanted to."

"freedom of the press, am i right?" jeongin laughed, "speaking of the devil." signaling heeseung heading towards your table.

heeseung stood at your table. "yang. l/n." before scooting next to jeongin's side of the booth. you couldn't help but move your eyes between the two. after what sunoo and the boys told you earlier, and jeongin's confirmation that basically people could tell, you sit there in silence.

heeseung clears his throat, "well i'm not seeing much interviewing going on, delegates."

you scoffed at him, "it's none of your business heeseung. we're all delegates, it's lunch break. you don't have to boss around all the time."

"our decelis guidebook strictly confers to not confide in the enemy. and here you are, with the enemy. you know if you spill precious information regarding us we'd be dead?" he scolded you.

a laugh escaped your throat, "the enemy? jeongin is far from the enemy to me. matter of fact, heeseung, you've been more of an enemy to me rather than a secgen."

jeongin whispered, "keep it down y/n, it's okay."

you stood up in anger, "no it's not okay! i've been trying my hardest to do everything i can, i've won consecutively since my first mun at decelis, i've done everything you ask for. i've done nothing but make the decelis name proud, but i just can't happen to make you proud. what do i have to do next? i do everything and all i do is fall at second best. if you hate me so much then kick me off the goddamn team! wouldn't want me tarnishing your precious track record by having a traitor on the team, would you? all this over a stupid article i wrote months ago." you walk away from the table, returning to your room.

heeseung was speechless, the rest of the room was in awe, normally delegates would be able to stay professional. even if there was a break up or something. even wonyoung and minjeong looked at heeseung in anger, meanwhile jake, jay, and sunghoon looked at him in disappointment. jeongin stood up and left the booth, avoiding any more anger out of heeseung. "if i were you, i'd apologize. that girl has done nothing but try to please you and make you proud. start there." jeongin added before leaving.

out of habit, heeseung hung his head low in embarrassment. this was worse than the time you wrote that article about him. as he stood up to confide in the boys for advice, he spots a small leather notepad in the corner of the booth. it was yours. he'd have to find you, face you and give it back. it wouldn't hurt to read a bit of what's inside, right?

running back to your room, you couldn't dare return till next comses. the fact that an entire room full of delegates and chairs had heard you scream at heeseung's face. and returning back to the bed you woke up from this morning, limbs tangled with heeseung, didn't really help.

hiding your face in your bedsheets, tears flowing freely, you couldn't help but smell the familiar cologne he had left behind. the smell stung your nose, and made your eyes water more. the scent that once plagued you, now had lulled you to sleep.

a blurry facade appeared, the sound of heavy noise music remained muffled. your feet were cold on the hotel floor, destination? room 777. you were swaying side to side, but thankfully you were able to hold on to a pillar, which was moving with you.

"we shouldn't have drunk this much, right l/n? i'm not even sure i'm prepped for comses tomorrow morning." the pillar said.

"you have it easy, lee. you don't have to write 4 pieces worth of mandatory articles and observe other council's committee sessions." you replied, a clear slur in your voice.

it, who turned out to be heeseung, laughed, and it was like music to your ears. "i thought you journalists just copy-pasted shit off google or something, didn't get why you'd have to sit in the back of council rooms."

you scoffed at him, "well, as secretary-general, you should've known better. if only you noticed what i've been doing all this time to get your attention, maybe you would've understood."

"you think i haven't been paying attention? i've had my eyes on you ever since you wrote that silly article about me back at decelis mun. 'who's really chairing crisis?' you do know me and jay have been friends since primary, right?" he argued.

"that i know know, lee. the fact that you caused all the fuss over an article that was purely for mun, and had no ill intention is just stupid. i just wanted to be able to express myself." you confessed, feeling underestimated.

he sighed, pressing the up button on the lift, "it's not that i fussed over an article, it's that you wrote about me. i don't see many people brave enough to write about a secretary-general." before he could continue, the doors to the lift dinged and opened, allowing the two of you to walk in.

"i mean," he stuttered, clicking the number seven on the lift's buttons, "you amazed me. i've never met a person who could express themselves so much through their writing. no one paid attention to me enough to write such a critical piece about me."

you smiled at him, "so i'm special? i was the first to write about you, right?" he chuckled at your cheeky comment, "yes you're a first. i wouldn't mind if you kept writing about me."

"but why'd you hate me? i've done so much for decelis to make you proud, but you still have a way to butcher me. i just wanted to impress you." you'd sighed into his chest, the world beginning to spin.

luckily, heeseung had caught you before you fell, right on time as the lift reached the seventh floor. he basically carried you out, trying not to drop you.

"if i hated you so much, i wouldn't be helping you get back to our room, nor would i be making sure you get back safely." he assured you, holding you in his arms.

you groaned in protest, "but you do, don't you? i'm never enough for you, after everything i've done. all the things i did—"

you were shut up by his lips on yours. out of the blue, with no warning signs, he had kissed you. out of habit you kissed him back, lips molding against each other as if you had been waiting for years, as if you couldn't live without each other. all hatred you held against him dissipated. your arms crawling towards the back of his neck to pull him closer, his own pulling on your waist.

he pulled away to take a breath, but you couldn't breathe. he was your oxygen. you connected the two of you together, chasing his lips, his touch, his presence. it was the sweetness, the flavor of love and lust hanging. you’ve been craving his attention, hell, even his touch for months.

but your lungs craved oxygen, forcing you to pull away, hiding your face in his chest. as you were taking in the moment, he chuckled, "i wouldn't have done that if i hated you, would i?"

waking up with a jolt, the memories of last night came rushing in. you thanked yourself that the two of you hadn't fucked, but the idea of kissing him and liking it gave yourself insight. you wondered if heeseung remembered too.

opening your phone and seeing the time, you rushed out of your room as you were late to your next editorial meeting. it being the last committee session of the day, all you had to do was submit your mandatory articles of the day, and you'd be done. running back to your council room, knocking slightly on the door, you rushed back to your seat.

"journalist, you're late. why is that?" shuhua asked, beomgyu beside her, taking notes.

you sat down and composed yourself, "i'm sorry chairs, i slept in during break. it won't happen again."

the chairs nodded at you, letting it pass. the room discussed about how press conferences was, reminding the journalists of the upcoming deadline, but your mind was in the gutter.

you touch your lips, and you feel the lingering taste on your tongue. you were shocked out of your trance with the knocks of the chairs' gavel hitting the sound block. with only an hour left to finish your mandatory article, you begin to type.

social night was an mun tradition. after a full day of committee sessions, all councils, no matter what their council was, it gave a chance for all the delegates to mingle amongst each other.

free from the deadline of your first mandatory article, you had the whole night to party it out before tomorrow, where you had to finish your final mandatory article.

social nights usually had themes, and tonight, harvard model congress' was inspired by bridgerton, along with masquerade masks were in array. you had packed a a black dress, which belonged to your mother. she’d always tell you to save it for a special occasion, a moment you wouldn’t want to forget. and for tonight, as you miss your mom's touch, you wear your dress with pride.

walking to the venue, and right before you could even enter, you’re immediately greeted by wonyoung and minjeong. "oh my god sweets are you okay?" wonyoung asked, holding your face, clear worry in her eyes. "we heard and saw what happened at lunch, good for you to finally confront the bitch." minjeong commented, which earned her, once again, another slap on the arm by wonyoung.

you nodded at the two, holding their hands, "i'm fine, don't worry. i just needed to get it out of my system, that's all."

"to think of it, i haven't seen him since. normally when you pass by the crisis room, you'd hear his voice bouncing off the walls..." wonyoung confessed, "that's very unlike of him."

minjeong scoffs at her comment, "who cares? he's been downplaying y/n's achievements for the past couple months, i wouldn't be able to stay quiet if i were you."

you sighed at the two bickering in front of you, "guys, i just want tonight to be about us. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, i want to make the best out of it. so can we stop the heeseung talk and have some fun? please?"

the two nodded at your request, not pestering you any further. you all walk into the venue, being handed masquerade masks. the venue was decorated to the nines, and it felt like a ball straight out of bridgerton. the three of you were guided to your delegation table, which seated you, the girls, jake, and sunghoon. but heeseung? he was no where to be found.

"where's heeseung? it's not like him to miss out on social night." jake asked you.

you sat down on your assigned seat, and the seat on your right, which was supposed to occupy heeseung, was cold and empty. "why are you asking me? he hates me, remember?"

jake shrugged, "i don't know, i just reckoned that since the two of you are sharing a room, you'd know where he is."

minjeong scoffs, "who cares? y/n got ready at me and wony's room anyways, so no, we don't know where he is."

"jay said earlier today that he's been looking for him. wonder where he went. and if he found him..." sunghoon tells the table, sipping on his glass of water.

stuck in your trance, you were snapped out of it by a screeching of a chair, one, being jay, and the other was right next to you. heeseung. he was in his usual suit and tie, a couple buttons on the top were unbuttoned. you glanced at his tired eyes, hidden underneath the masquerade mask.

"dude? where've you been?" jake asked jay, slapping him on the shoulder.

jay sighed and drank a gulp of his water, "looking for this asshole over here." while pointing at heeseung, "took me a while to find him literally on the rooftop. i swear seoul uni has the most crazy hideouts. i'm not even sure i can even find my way back."

"how'd you find your way there anyways?" sunghoon asked heeseung.

he sighed, "don't know. just, found it." his demeanor slipping away as you begin to see the raw brokenness. you didn't hurt his ego that much, right?

as the clock struck seven, waiters all around the room began laying out the meals. you took a glimpse of the dinner courses in front of you, not really having an appetite for anything. but you still tried to eat, tried not to waste your food, tried to seem okay in front of him.

heeseung, on the other hand, was trying his best not to combust. sitting next to you was hard enough, but the fact you were wearing such a beautiful dress had him awestruck. he also lost his appetite. he couldn't help but stare at you.

after dinner, your friends stood up and ran over to the dance floor, and you were unfortunately dragged along. a remix of many famous hits were played, before you sang your hearts out to iris, by the goo goo dolls. you felt someone tap you on your shoulder, which to your surprise you see jeongin.

"could i have this dance?" he asked, hand out for you to grab, iris still playing in the background.

you nodded and grabbed his hand before you two danced foolishly to iris, heels discarded, his suit as well, just dancing your hearts out. but you had your limits, you were tired and excused yourself to grab some water. before you felt a nudge on your right, as heeseung leaned towards your ear. "can we talk later? don't say no just yet, just follow the green post its."

he walks away, as you look at him in confusion. feeling bad for what you said at lunch, you decide to meet him and see what he has to say.

following the pins of green post-its he left behind, you find yourself at the hidden rooftop jay was talking about at dinner. you open the door to be shocked at the view. the stars twinkling in the night sky. and stood there near the edge, was heeseung.

you broke the silence, clearing your throat, "you wanted to speak to me?"

heeseung looked at you and your dress, his mind going places. "yeah. i did. i'm not expecting an apology. i deserve it."

"but why'd you hate me so much, heeseung?" you whined at him, sick of his jokes.

"the thing is l/n, i don't!" he shouts, walking towards you, "it's not that i hate you, it's that i hate the way you make me feel. i hate the way you're so good at writing, i hate the way you win everything to make me proud, i hate the way you know my weaknesses, i hate the way you never gave up. you're on my mind every fucking day."

you walk up towards him, pulling his suit to pull him down, and him not expecting anything, you slap him across his face.

heeseung immediately pulled back, "ow! what was that for?"

"that was for not telling me about how you felt. you didn't have to bottle it up, you know?" you scoffed.

"and you didn't have to either!" he protested back, pulling out a familiar journal. your journal.

you grabbed it from his hands, "how'd you find this? i didn't even realize it was missing..."

heeseung sighed, "you know for a smart writer like you, you're very forgetful." a smile beginning to emerge.

"what did you read, heeseung? tell me." you asked, afraid that your secrets would spill out.

heeseung walked towards you, "enough to know that you're too stubborn to even tell me the truth. if you'd been feeling this way for months then you should have told me."

you gasped at him, "i would have told you about it if you weren't such a dick all the time? and then you kissing me last night just added more fuel to the fire." not realizing what you said, heeseung cupped your face, which was full of confusion.

"you remember last night?"

you blinked. "everything."

he laughed, "then you'd know i wouldn't hate you as much if i was doing this, would i?"

the familiar taste of his lips returned as he kissed you. you held onto his hands as he caressed your face. the oxygen you once craved had been fulfilled. you strung your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life. you could feel the burst of sparks just surrounding the two of you, a moment you both craved.

the wavering facade between the two finally faded, unleashing the raw desire the two of you had, rushing through your veins.

you pulled away, heeseung leaning his forehead onto yours, before he gave you his best smile. you blushed out of nervousness and proximity the two of you held, not used to this view.

"you still hate me now?" you joked, smiling at him. his eyes softened, before he laughed, and kissing you once more, not wanting to let go. and as the stars glimmered under the night sky, you forgot time ever existed. forget the committee sessions due tomorrow, it was the two of you against the world.

surely, waking up on the final day of the conference would give you a sense of peace, right? wrong. you had spent so much time last night making out and talking with heeseung that you forgot your final mandatory article was due soon. waking up from the bed the two shared, limbs tangled once more, this time, you weren't ashamed.

you kissed heeseung's forehead to wake him up, and despite heeseung's wishes to stay in and make out some more, you declined and got ready.

"can't you just stay? a bit late to the first comses of the day won't hurt your awards." heeseung groaned, asking you to return.

"i was late at yesterday's comses post-lunch, so i think i'm going to be a good girl and come early to this one." you replied, fixing your tie.

heeseung basically stood up and tried to pull you back to bed, "come on, just be my good girl. i promise you will be awarded with all of my kisses in the world."

you shook your head, "missing out on a couple kisses won't be the death of me. come on, you need to prep for comses too."

heeseung moaned in complaint, "no, i'd break my streak for you, i don't care. i just want to stay in with you, away from everybody."

you were able to crawl your way out of his touch, "nope! i'm not letting you lose your streak just over me. come on, get ready. i'm going down for breakfast."

"can i at least have a goodbye kiss before you go?" he pouted, and the way his eyes resembled bambi, you gave in.

you tried to just give him a quick peck, but his touch was so fragile and welcoming, that if you didn't stand your ground, you'd probably be pinned down till the rest of the day. but you didn't want that, so you let go of his touch, assuring him that you'd spend more time with him after the conference.

now, here you were, back in your conference room with a giddy look on your face. you couldn't help but dream of last night. even sunoo, riki, jungwon, along with wonyoung, minjeong, and sunghoon, were even surprised to see you better all of a sudden.

"okay is this some weird process girls do the cope with sadness, cause if so how do we fix her?" sunoo asked, concerned.

wonyoung was staring at you like you were beaming, "it looks like pregnancy glow."

riki basically spit out his coffee, "wait so they actually fucked?"

minjeong snapped at riki, "who fucked?"

"we had speculation that, y/n and heeseung fucked the first night, hence why she was out of it the next day..." jungwon explained to the rest.

sunghoon, the only person out of the group who happened to know heeseung the best, commented that; "no there's no way he fucked her. if they fucked, they wouldn't have been here."

"could you stop speculating that me and heeseung fucked?" you snapped at the group. not out of anger, but annoyed that you couldn't concentrate.

"sorry, but did you?" riki enquired, earning him a riki! from the group around him. "what? i just wanna know."

you sighed, standing up and packing a couple things, "who cares if we fucked or not? just leave us alone." as you head out of the council room, heading to the crisis room for some final details.

contrary to how you first felt when you walked into the room, your heart felt full of hope. that this time, heeseung wouldn't be staring at you with hatred, instead of love. you hoped you wouldn't distract him.

as you walked into the council room, you nodded at chair yeonjun, before taking a seat at the prepared seats for the journalists. you sit down, open your laptop as you're typing your final mandatory article. you tried to glimpse towards heeseung, but you were returned with the same feeling as yesterday. the sharp gaze was back. maybe it's because he's in is element? mun is important to him... you thought, and busied yourself to writing your article. since it was your final committee session, you just had to submit your article and return for the closing editorial meeting. quickly clicking submit, and the chairs deeming the final committee session over, you wanted to sneak a quick kiss before returning for your meeting.

you stood up from your seat and walked towards heeseung. he stood up and saw you, walking your way. instead of being greeted by a hug or a kiss, he brushed past you to talk to his fellow delegates. you felt a pang in your chest, the way heeseung ignored you like that. you thought everything was okay. the kisses you shared, the conversations you had. you looked back at heeseung only to see him busy talking with the other delegates, barely sparing you a glance. you left the room quickly, not looking back.

unbeknownst to you, heeseung saw you leaving, his heart barely surviving after treating you like that. you deserved better than him. he couldn't have it all.

the final editorial meeting of press councils should be a joy to you. no more deadlines, no more press conferences. but you were stuck in your head. repeating the interaction over and over in your head, you didn't understand a single thing.

after the comments and input from both the chairs and the journalists, chair shuhua decided to pull out the gossip box. you'd been informed prior about the gossip box filling at social night, but since you ran off with heeseung to make out the night away, you didn't have time to fill it in.

as shuhua and beomgyu begin to read the entries, earning laughter all around the room, a certain entry snaps you out of your trance.

"oh this is a good one! new york times from press and colombia from crisis actually fit really good together! hope the enemies finally turn into lovers! wait is this about y/n and heeseung?" chair shuhua asks, causing the whole room to look at you.

you looked at everyone strangely, "what? there's nothing."

chair beomgyu shook his head, "no no no, i don't think there's nothing. come on spill the tea, something must've happened the past three days."

everybody was waiting on your response. waiting for you to tell everyone what happened. you just wanted them to shut up. "okay well. we kissed."

the group of six who were pestering you earlier, gasped loudly. earning you a rumble of no shit's, wait actually's, and a loud jinjja?!

you couldn't help but sink back into your seat, still upset about the way he treated you earlier. "yeah, but he's treating me like shit again today, so. that's that."

the entire room aww'ed in disappointment, before the chairs read out a couple more entries, and adjourns the final editorial. you stand up to clean your table, taking out a pen to begin signing each others' placards. signing everybody else's, photo sessions were in array, and after you were finally allowed to have some free time before awarding ceremony.

awarding ceremony was one of those moments where you have hope, but at the same time you don't. you start rethinking choices you made during the conference, wondering if you made the right option. you headed your way to where the press council was sat at, where you met a couple other delegates, even bumping into jeongin, wishing each other a good luck!

you sit down between wonyoung and minjeong, which earned you an endearing hug from the two, assuring your problems with heeseung didn't matter. stuck in your head, you didn't notice the boys' absence in the room. and awarding had begun. the secretary-general of harvard model congress came up and made their speech, thanking all the delegates for participating and giving their best. chairs from other councils begin to come up to give their awards.

meanwhile, outside of the room, was heeseung cornered by jay, jake, and sunghoon.

heeseung, not caught up with the situation, looked at the three with confusion. "what did i do?"

jay scoffed, "what did you do? you managed to fuck it up again? what did i tell you?!" shaking the life out of him.

heeseung shook his head in confusion, not knowing what to do, when sunghoon came up to him, "look man, your little feud with y/n has to stop. i don't get you anymore. i thought you'd be good at this after helping me and wonyoung get together..."

"nah dude you're in denial. what do you mean you two basically confessed to not hating each other and then made out a bunch of times, only for you to leave her and ignore her like so? that's crazy." jake protested. that was the truth.

"i don't know what to tell you, but me and jake have got to get back for unsc awarding, but please think about it? i know you feel scared of this whole love thing, but i assure you, it's okay to feel this way." jay says, leaving with jake, which left sunghoon with heeseung alone.

heeseung didn't know what to do. for the first time in his life, everything was out of his control. he craved you and needed you, but he felt like he didn't deserve you. it was as if a crisis was happening in his own mind.

as he hears the cheers of the room with every award that is given out, his heart races. he hears the announcement where jay and jake both won best delegates, which they had been double delegating in.

sunghoon kept trying to comfort heeseung, not knowing what to say to him. "look, i may not understand the way your mind works, but i assure you that you deserve her. you've put yourself through it all for decelis, and the track record that we have wouldn't have been what it is now if it wasn't for you. i don't know what plan you're cooking up, but whatever it is, win her back." heeseung looks at sunghoon with sheer nervousness in his eyes. "press and crisis are left, so whatever you want to do? do it now. before its too late."

leaving heeseung alone outside the room, sunghoon walks back in, returning to where the press journalists sat. he saw you picking on your nails out of habit, nervous for the next awards. as your chairs walk up to the podium, sunghoon just hopes heeseung would do something.

as names begin getting called out, sunoo winning best pre-conference video, then riki and jungwon winning verbal commendations, wonyoung and minjeong winning honorable mentions, you held on tight to the tiny string of hope left. it was probably between you and sunghoon left. as you look around the room, heeseung is still nowhere to be found. you had hoped that maybe with this win, you'd make him proud once and for all.

"the final two journalists were a tight match. these two shown impeccable talent in their articles and presence the past three days." shuhua announces. "it is with our great pleasure that the most outstanding journalist goes to, park sunghoon!"

wonyoung, who was on the stage prior, basically screams in joy. you high five sunghoon before he winks at you, knowing you'd win best journalist. but a part of you still thinks you won't.

beomgyu gives sunghoon his award, before adjusting his mic. "this final journalist has pure talent in her writing, and have awestruck the both of us with her work. without further ado, we would like to present that the best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

relief. that's all what washes towards you. yes you've heard your name and the words best journalist go along too often, but every time it happens, it always feels euphoric. as you walk up the stage to receive your award, earning smiles from the other awardees, you couldn't help but look to the crowd.

you see jay and jake basically jumping up and down in joy, but heeseung was still nowhere to be found. a pang of disappointment burns in your chest as you walk down the podium with your certificate in hand. an array of congratulations! are heard, as you sit back down for the final awarding. crisis.

zoning out, after feeling the euphoria of your win, your mind drifts off to heeseung. how would he feel? was he proud?

as chair yeonjun announces the awardees, you are cut out of your trance with every round of applause. you see jeongin win most outstanding, and you cheer for him.

as yeonjun clears his throat for the final award, he begins his speech. "this final award goes to a delegate who really deserves it all. although this mun may have not been his best run, he deserves so much more than the title: prodigy. i'd like to present this best delegate award to none other than... you know what? lee heeseung get up here, get your award, and get your girl!"

with pure shock, you watch as heeseung bursts through the doors, run up to the podium, quickly shake his chairs' hands, grabs his certificate, and runs down. and he's running to you.

he drops his certificate on the floor, before engulfing you in the biggest hug he's ever given in his life. spinning you around, you squeal in excitement. he whispers in your ear an array of i'm so proud of you's, before putting you down, and kissing you in front of everyone.

you cling onto him, parting your lips allowing him to kiss you deeper and deeper, and the feeling of sparks flying around you made it feel like it would last forever. your ears muffle all the cheers surrounding you, only focusing on heeseung, and heeseung only.

he puts you down and rests his forehead on yours, exactly like how he did on the rooftop the night before. "how'd you pull this off?" you ask him, still on cloud nine.

"eh, had some help from chair yeonjun. didn't expect the bestdel though." heeseung laughs, holding you by the waist, tighter, and tighter.

you held his face closer, wanting to feel his touch, "why'd you do that? why'd you run?"

"y/n. i love you. i never knew how to say it all this time, because it's a feeling unlike any other. to the point it made me feel as if my life was in crisis. but that's when i realized i never had it all. not until i found you."

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay @capri-cuntz @beomluvrr @shawnyle @tya0 @heexoolio @sunghoonsgff @spiderhanzzz (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction.

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samkerrworshipper · 2 months ago

Text

the lawn is dead. pt.2

hi! i wrote a part 2! i’m on a unofficial hiatus but had some inspiration the last few days and had to finish this. hope it provides a little bit more comfort then the last chapter .. sorry xo

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm themes, themes of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts. viewer discretion advised.

You can describe the carpet of this office better then most people can describe themselves.

It’s a rug, for the most part, except for the where it’s clear a person has chosen laziness in favour of lifting up the heavier furniture to place the rug down underneath it. Where the rug doesn’t cover, there is bleak grey carpet that feels more boring then the time you spend in this room.

Where the carpet lacks in literally everything, the rug makes up for it blindingly.

It’s a messy mixture of far too many colours, pinks, purples, blues, greens and neutrals. It doesn’t make any sense in your mind, why somebody would chose for the focal point of their room to be a rug that doesn’t match with any of the furniture. It’s another sign that the furniture came before the rug, all of the furniture is dark mahogany, beautiful pieces that look as if they’ve come from and English period piece, whereas the rug looks so modern it’s almost painful.

The rest of the furniture has been picked with similar taste.

The painting on the wall looks like what a child would vomit after going to a birthday party. Every time you’ve come here you’ve had a new analogy, but this week that is the one, it looks like stomach contents and you can’t get past it, to the point it’s made you physically nauseated.

From the painting moves onto the bookshelf, where there is a odd mix of medical textbooks, classics and selfawareness books, all stacked in such disarray that you have to keep your eyes away because it makes you uncomfortable.

Beyond the furniture is your psychologist, with her stupid fucking note pad, stupid glasses perched on the very tip of her nose and stupidly calm face that never really changed.

She was supposed to be a specialist, the best of the best, supposed to be the greatest and getting to the bottom of the most famous athletes problems and yet you found pride in alluding her.

One hour, every four days was what you were down to now, a couple of weeks ago it had been every other day and that had been fucking torture.

Sometimes all you wanted to do was rip her eyeballs out, or her brains, or something else. You swore she made your ears bleed and your will to live deteriorate with every second and it was already pretty low.

“You can’t avoid my question forever.”

It was also that annoying tone that sent you, the sort of tone that meant she knew that technically for the whole of the hour she could ask you whatever she pleased and you were technically supposed to answer her. Defiance on your end just ended up in you being suspended from something else that made your life just a tiny bit more liveable.

“No, I haven’t talked to Mapi yet.”

You’ve been avoiding it, there have bits and pieces of homework from your therapist, but this one is by far the hardest.

“How about Alexia, how does she feel about that.”

You don’t want to tell her that you and Alexia are in shambles as it is, add on the pressure of her best friend being psychologically destroyed because of you and just talking about any of it at all and it’s like dynamite.

“Supportive.”

Your therapist nods, but in the way that you know she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Have you started to reintegrate with the team? I know last time we talked you mentioned that before the incident you’d been feeling quite isolated because of your ankle injury. It’s important that you start to normalise your life again before you start to self isolate.”

You don’t call it self-isolation, you like to call it self protection. You protect yourself by pushing against the grain, by keeping to yourself. It’s a lot easier that way.

“I’ve been busy.”

It’s a lie and a blatant one, your days are filled with complete nothingness. You can’t play football, not until she clears you, and you know that it’s not going to happen anytime soon based on the trend of your current sessions. There has been the same amount of progress as there was two weeks ago when you started with her. You shut down at every attempt she makes to try and open you up, you talk when you have to. It’ll probably get you sent back to a ward. You don’t remember much from your transition from the hospital to home, but you do remember signing something that referred to you making significant process or else you would be sent back.

Progress for your therapist is getting more then two word responses from you. You’re aware she’s in kahoots with Alexia, that Alexia is probably providing her more information then you are.

“You’re giving me the look that means that you’re writing something down along the lines of ‘unncooperative’.”

She is also in kahoots with the staff at Barcelona, another thing you signed was that she would work in conjunction with the clubs doctors to get you back to where you were, or somewhere in the vicinity.

They know every time you have a bad session, you’re guaranteed a consolation call from one of the coaches or even sometimes a teammate check-in telling you how brave you are and how strong you are for doing this.

You don’t agree, you nearly took the cowards way out and you’re proud of it. You wish it had fucking worked, every single second, of every single day, you wish you’d succeeded, wished that this hadn’t all ended up how it did.

“That’s not what I wrote, I wrote a observation. Uncooperative would be you refusing to speak to me like you did for our first two sessions, even if you lie it’s still trying.”

You don’t want to be curious of her, you’ve tried to give her as little attention as possible.

You’ve adapted the act that you call, therapised you.

You do your best job of smiling here and there, or at least when you know that you’re supposed to. Therapised you extends to a few people, Alexia, coaches, physios, people on the street.

You believe you’ve become a seasoned liar.

The funniest part is that sometimes you start to believe your act, you start to believe that all the ash and embers in your chest is really alight with flames, like you’re truly alive.

But then, you would pause, sit down, lie down, dissasociate and you would be reminded that that wasn’t your body. Your body wasn’t a place of life and prosper, it was as dead as anywhere else.

“What was the observation?”

You try not to be curious over her, or curious in general, you keep everything to yourself.

“You’ve told me time and time again that you attempted because you believed that not a single person would care if you were gone. Yet you wrote a letter, you knew that somebody would care, somebody would miss you. Guilt is what kept you from doing it earlier and guilt was what kept you from vanishing without a trace. Your conscience was clean in your own words, but that’s not true, your conscience was anything but clean. So what pushed you over?”

You hate that therapists have a way of worming out weird bits of information that they can use against you to worm out more bits of information, like they know your brain inside to out.

“My conscience was clean.”

Your therapist pulls her glasses up from her nose and scribbles on her pad again.

“Why’d you write a note then, specifically why did you write a note to your ex girlfriend?”

There are so many things you could say to that, but you can’t quite find the words.

“Let me rephrase to make it easier. When you were in the hospital, and Alexia reacted so viscerally, you weren’t surprised. You expected her to feel something about what happened, you didn’t seem surprised at all by her words or actions. You knew that she was going to be hurt by what you did. So, how was your conscience truly clean?”

Thinking about Alexia in the hospital makes you feel as nauseous as the furniture does.

Your still mad at her, still mad at yourself for never changing her as your medical contact and medical proxy. It had all been a clusterfuck.

“I didn’t know Alexia was going to be there, I though that she’d washed her hands of me. I left her a note because I thought there had been things left unsaid between us and I didn’t want to leave that way.”

Your therapist nods, she doesn’t scribble this time and that makes the itchy feeling all over you die down a little bit.

“Alright, let’s move on. Your ankle injury, how’s that going?”

You look to the window, it’s a horrible day outside, just your luck when you’d chosen to walk to your therapists office on what was supposed to be a 20 degree day with sunny skies. It was the epitome of your life, high expectations, low realities.

“Well three weeks between a hospital and psychiatric facility are probably the best thing anybody can do for a injury.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle and your therapist does nothing but scribble.

“So you’ve been doing your rehab as advised then?”

Rehab, both kinds, is mind-bogglingly boring. You go to your therapist and she tells you all the ways you have to work to rehab your brain, she gives you medication after medication and exercise after exercise. The same happens every time you see your physio, test after test, exercise after exercise.

Your stuck in the same cycle of boredom, it makes you wonder how people ever expect you to get better when all you are doing is living in a constant state of suffering.

“The physios are happy with me, say that if I continue on the track that I am I should be back on the pitch in a few weeks, with psychological clearance.”

At the current therapeutic rate your going at, you don’t think you’ll see a psychological clearance until your 50th birthday, if you’re lucky.

“How does it feel coming back from that injury, especially considering how the decline in your physical health simulatenously resulted in the decrease in your mental health?”

You keep silent, because you know that if you talk then it’s doing to be something emotional. When you don’t know how to answer questions without exposing yourself you opt to keep quiet, it’s a obvious tell that you feel uncomfortable with the question. But giving away a tell is a whole lot better then starting an emotional downpour.

“Y/n?”

You look at your shoes. You only were allowed to start wearing one on your bad foot a week ago, and you’d forgotten how hard it was to coordinate shoes with your clothes. This morning you’d thought that they matched with your pants but now they look much darker then they truly are against the grey carpet. The mix of your navy adidas that you might have stolen from Mapi’s wardrobe a couple of months ago when she was complaining about the amount of shoes she’d been sent with your grey wide leg pants was a interesting choice but therapy wasn’t a fashion parade. The shoes don’t quite fit your feet, that’sc how you remembered they weren’t yours. When you’d taken them, it had been during some kind of team bonding night at Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment. Life had been so good, Alexia and you had been so good and for once you’d kind of felt like you were beginning to fit in.You’d never felt that way before that era of your life.

But like most things, it was now a far distant memory.

“The injury wasn’t what made me depressed.”

It’s a half truth, you suppose. Yes, the injury definitely contributed to the factors that trigger your depression, but it wasn’t a sole cause.

“I disagree.”

More scribbling on her note pad, in your opinion it must be some psychological form of torture. You’ll google it when you get home, check to make sure that this isn’t a form of manipulation to somehow convince you to say the things that she wants you to.

“If you disagree then tell me why you think that.”

It’s daring of you to say, there is nearly a 99.99 percent chance that whatever she says you are going to deny vehemently. Even if she hits it right on the nail.

“I think that you don’t give yourself enough grace for the challenges that you’ve gone through. You came to Barcelona because you were running from things, from your past. You’ve never stopped running, truly. Everytime somebody gets close enough to begin to try and worm their feet into your shoes to try and relive some of it with you, you shut them down and stop it. For most people, shoes are a means of getting to where they want, for you, you keep running because if you stop you feel like you’ll suffocate, like your feet will be wrapped up in barb wire and you’ll be stuck. For whatever reason, you don’t think anybody will ever be able to empathise with that. You think that if you ever let anybody in for long enough that they learn what you’ve been running from that they’ll try and stop you, that you’ll be faced with everything that you’ve ever struggled with. So, you keep running, and running, you’ve always been in a state of escape. With your relationship, you finally stopped running, you slowed to a jog. Then, you got injured. All of a sudden you felt like you were stuck and instead of letting yourself finally come to a stop and accepting help and complete love for once in your life, and being vulnerable. You chose to start running again, running from your friends, running from your team, running from every single good thing that you’d gotten in your life until you were so consumed with all the running that you just wanted it all to stop. But you didn’t know how to stop parts of your life without stopping other parts, so you chose to stop it all.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds. You’ve never had the feeling that you’ve been experiencing your whole life summed up, you don’t know how to feel about it.

You look at your psychologist, and somehow she looks back at you in a way that you somehow feel like she understands, you’ve never really felt that way about her.

It’s always felt like she’s judging you, like it’s her job to judge every single thing you say. Or at least that’s the way you’ve always seen it. It’s her job to make sure you don’t fall of the rails again, to make decisions about what you can and can’t do. It’s never been a possibility for you that maybe she’s here for a little bit more then just the business side of it all.

“Is that it? Did you come to a point where it felt like you had no other option but to just make it all stop?”

You bite your lip so hard you think it might just bleed, it’s a mission to try and stop the tears that have begun to cling to the back of your eyes at bay. You’ve never cried during a therapy session, and there is no reason why today should be different. The amount of people you’ve cried in front of is limited to a very, very short list of people and you don’t intend for your psychologist to be added.

“It would be okay if that was it. It’s okay to admit that for you at that time it felt like there was no other option but to make it all stop.”

You feel muzzled, like you can’t speak without admitting to something that you don’t want to.

“I thought it would make it all better.”

Your therapist puts down her notepad, and you feel a whole load of anxiety rush out of you.

“You thought it would make what better?”

You keep your tooth pinned to your lip, if it draws blood, it draws blood. The pain helps to take your focus off of the word vomit you can feel coming up.

“Everyone else’s lives.”

Your response is croaky, and when your therapist points to the glass of water you don’t shake your head like normal, you find yourself reaching for it and taking a few tentative sips.

“What about your life, what about making your own life better?”

You take a few more sips, because it stalls the conversation for long enough that you can think up an answer that doesn’t make it sound like you are completely insane.

“I was never really thinking about it like that.”

You look at her, eye to eye again, and there is this weird understanding between the two of you. You can feel it, whether or not it’s real, for the first time you feel like you aren’t crazy for thinking the way that you do. It’s a weird kind of safety that you’ve never had.

“For a minute, I want you to close your eyes and think about exactly what you want, whether it’s the future, it’s right now. Not football, not other people, nobody else. Just you.”

You humour her, and close your eyes.

For a few seconds, you can’t think of much. You’ve never been a future thinker, not beyond emergency plans and second options.

You think about death for a few seconds, a couple of weeks ago it was all you could think of. Permanent, irreversible disappearance. Even then though, it wasn’t what you were actually yearning for, not truly, it was just an easy solution to complex problems, problems that still haven’t been solved.

You think long and hard, and eventually you find a pleasantness.

You want to resolve things with Alexia, you know that for sure. It’s been impossible trying to navigate your relationship in your new reality. You want to get to a place where it’s less impossible. You want happiness with her, pure happiness. You also want some kind of return to football, you don’t know how. You’ve never really played football because it’s what you love, you’ve never loved your sport, it’s more been about having something that could take you places when inevitable wherever you had been was no longer an option because you’d somehow fucked it up.

You want a better relationship with yourself, you want to understand why you think the way you do and why you can’t think the same way and be the same way as everyone. You want to get past the fear you have that you will never be the same.

When you have nothing else to think about, you open your eyes, to your psychologist smiling at you.

“That’s our hour, I’m really happy to leave this here and circle back to some of it in a couple of days. The progress you’re making is definitely getting bigger and I’m happy to sign off on you getting some hours in the gym if your physios are happy with it. I’ll call the team tonight and we can work out a plan that works best.”

You’re in slight disbelief as she speaks.

“You’re sure?”

You stay seated for the sake of making sure that you haven’t somehow dreamt up what she’s just said.

“If you try and make some progress with your homework. I want you to try and talk to Mapi, a text message, coffee, something. I want you to talk to Alexia beyond her being a caregiver for you and I want you to make progress with your teammates, don’t avoid the gym if you know they are going to be there, don’t avoid team events, dip a toe in the water with them and I can guarantee you will have a very different outcome then what you think.”

Contingencies. One thing you’ve learnt about therapy is that there are always contingencies, it’s always a give and take, never one or the other.

You nod your head anyways, somehow, with her weird manipulation games you’ve managed to agree to something that the version of you from and hour ago never would have.

“I’ll try.”

Your therapist smiles and stands up, for whatever reason there is always a part of you that loves the end of your sessions but also never wants to leave.

Whether it seems like it or not, you actually do want to get better, you just don’t know what better looks like for you and that’s scary. You’ve never met the version of yourself that is ‘better’ or ‘normal’. You can’t say that you want to be your old self because there hasn’t ever been a version of yourself that feels better. You’ve always been in the slums, always been dragging yourself through the thickest mud to try and make it to the end of a day or month or year. You don’t actually want to survive like that, you want to live your life properly, or whatever non-sluggish life looks like for you.

Your still desperately trying to work that out.

Alexia is waiting in the carpark as usual, it’s always the same carpark, always the same consolation hot chocolate in her hands afterwards.

Once you’ve sat down in her passenger seat, put on your seatbelt and the takeaway cup is settled in your hands she broaches the topic of your session.

“How was it?”

There is always an awkwardness around your sessions, Alexia picks your up from every one, on the odd occasion she’ll join in if your therapist thinks it would be good. Otherwise, she spends the time sitting in her car and picking up hot drinks.

It’s infinitely awkward between the two of you, but Alexia in your opinion is mostly to blame for that.

She’d been the first person to put her hand up to be your carer, your glorified babysitter.

You know it’s a guilt thing, she feels guilty that part of your pain could have been because of her, even though you’ve insisted time and time again that it wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Therapy is a tough topic for you, mostly because you’ve never wanted to be there in the first place. You’d been tricked into going from the beginning, Alexia insisting that she was taking you to a appointment to check up on your scars when really it had been to your psychologists office. You’d yelled and screamed and insisted that she take you home, but at the end of the day if you ever wanted to play football again it was obvious you were going to have to suck it up.

You hadn’t talked to Alexia for days after that, which is funny because that was less then three weeks ago and now you’re here.

“Fine?”

You nod your head, it’s hard to find words after a normal session, but after this one it’s ever harder.

“I made some progress.”

Alexia nods, you know there are probably a hundred questions going through her head right now, but she won’t ask them. She’s too scared that if she asks them, she’ll get an answer that will terrify her. One that will restart all of the problems, even if that isn’t really how it works. Alexia doesn’t understand mental health, that’s become frighteningly obvious over the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand your struggles because she’s never experienced them. She’s never had self hatred or depression or overwhelming anxiety. It’s what makes you feel so alienated and so out of place amongst your peers. You feel like a shark amongst a sea of dolphins, like you look the same but when it comes down to it you are completely different.

“That’s good, no?”

You nod your head, disguising the grimace on your face by the mouth of the lid on your hot chocolate.

“She says I can start doing some hours in the gym.”

Alexia smiles, big and wide, like it’s her whose been given the good news.

“That’s good bebita, you’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

The pitch. It’s all Alexia cares about.

When you can be back, how she can get you to the point you can be back. Because when Alexia is injured, it’s all she cares about. What she can do to get herself back on the pitch, how she can make the rehab process faster, she thinks of every single logistic and possibility.

You want to make it back to the pitch, or you think you do. But it’s not your priority. It’s become abundantly clear that your main priority has to be yourself, figuring yourself out.

“Mhm.”

You focus your energy on counting how many bike riders pass Alexia’s car as she navigates through peak city traffic. You get to 38 before she interrupts your intense search for every person on two wheels.

“Vicky’s supposed to be coming over later, I promised I’d help her with a school project. I can go to her house instead if you’d prefer?”

Every time Alexia’s broached the topic of teammates you’ve immediately refused any contact, and your immediate reaction is to say no. but you think about what your therapist said.

“I might text Mapi and see if she wants to talk to me.”

You hear the sound of Alexia’s shock in the form of a choken sort of cough, she tries to cover it up by slapping her hand against the wheel of her car, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think that would be a really good idea, bebita, I think she would be really happy to see you.”

You don’t look at Alexia, you don’t want to see the look of perplexion or shock or whatever emotion she’s going through. You haven’t seen Mapi since the hospital, and as little as you remember from then, you remember Mapi very clearly.

She had been just as out of it as you’d been, refusing to leave your bedside but Ingrid having to do everything for her to keep her alive. Every time she visited you, she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something worse. You weren’t sure what was worse, seeing somebody dead or seeing somebody who was hanging on the cliff of life and death and having to save their life, knowing that if action hadn’t of been taken they would be dead.

Definitely the latter.

“I’ll text her, see if she can come and pick you up before Vicky comes over?”

You nod your head, allowing yourself to focus back on counting your tally, except moving over to motorcycles this time.

You shower with the bathroom door halfway open. There are no sharps anywhere in your apartment, knives, razors, scissors, nail clippers, vegetable peelers, glasses, anything that could cause any kind of bodily harm. For now, you aren’t allowed to be left alone for longer then an hour. You sleep with your bedroom door open and Alexia sleeping in the guest room next door. You eat a set meal plan, you do two hours of rehab every single day, you live on a schedule that is so carefully planned that you have no time to yourself and yet every single moment feels lonely.

It’s a process, you’ve been told. It’s crucial to your recovery that there are measurements in place to assure your ‘success’.

Alexia knocks on your door every five minutes whilst you shower, you yell back every time.

It had become a rule after the first time you’d showered with the door open you’d made a joke about using the shower curtain to harm yourself, because what did they really expect you to be doing?

It hadn’t gone well, Alexia going silent for a few days and a very heated conversation with your psychologist about the inappropriateness of making jokes about suicide.

It was your trauma, it was your fucking story, and everyone was acting like it was their most sensitive issue.

Bathrooms are a bit of a touchy subject, you don’t shower in your ensuite bathroom anymore, you can’t. The room has permanently been blocked off, completely forgotten about.

The first thing you want to do once you’ve ‘recovered’ is leave this apartment, there are to many bad memories, it feels like you’ll never be able to recover if your stuck in the same place that you were in when it all went bad.

It’s a problem for when you can deal with the stress of packing up your whole life and moving it to somewhere.

When you shut the water off and step out of the warm stream you let yourself breathe, showers are the only real alone time you get. Everywhere else you are supervised, watched like a hawk to make sure that you don’t try anything else that could jeopardise your return to football. The reality is that Barca can’t afford to have you sit on the sideline for a whole season, they need you back, they can’t risk another slip up.

Alexia at least gives you the privacy of getting dressed in your own wardrobe, all of your wired bras have been removed, but for the most part it’s all normal.

You get dressed in another sweat suit, it’s become your new uniform over the last few weeks, no draw strings of course.

Your hair gets swept into a messy bun, it’s too much effort to deal with the brushing and braiding and tying that you would have normally gone through with a couple of weeks ago. You aren’t allowed to wear jewellery anymore so your accessories consist of pretty much nothing. You’re bare from the bones to your clothes, your soul feels as bare as the rest of your body.

You’re allowed to wear laced shoes, but you often opt not to, slip on birkenstocks or uggs are just easier. The Barcelona January chill has been getting to you recently, so you upt for your ugg boots.

Your outfit choice is the most choice you get in your day, so you try and put as little thinking into it as possible, it’s easier for you to just succumb to the reality that everything in your life is controlled by other people.

By the time you’ve finished, you’re towing very close to the time Mapi had told Alexia she’d come and meet you. You collect the things that you might need from your vanity and shove them in your pocket, before making your way out to your living room.

It’s unofficially become Alexia’s office, her laptop and books cover your dining table now. She lives out of your apartment, leaves only for training and barcelona commitments, so it’s fair to say that she’s made herself at home.

When you were living together before, it had bothered you more, having her things everywhere. Alexia is a organiser, of everything and everybody but herself. You’d spend hours telling her to pick up her shoes from random spots around the apartment floor or getting her to pick up random clothing items laying on top of pieces of furniture. This mess is different, it reflects how the situation is different. There is nothing comfortable about your predicament, it’s not the same kind of comfortable coexistence you had when you were dating Alexia.

There is a boundary between the two of you now and it makes it all so much more confusing.

Alexia isn’t just your friend or your teammate, she’s you caregiver, the person who holds you accountable, unofficially the person who is supposed to keep you from doing anything to yourself. It adds a whole layer of stress to the situation, you can’t relax around her the same way you used to.

Your relationship is never going to be the same, but parts of you wished that Alexia hadn’t taken over the burden of caring for you, because maybe the two of you could work on rebuilding yourselves as a couple instead of Alexia trying to rebuild you as a person, as if you are a broken lego set that needed to be put back together.

She spends most of her time in your living room, doesn’t push the boundary of your bedroom unless it’s needed.

She’s sat at the kitchen table, preparing herself to help with whatever project it is that Vicky needs help with.

“Shouldn’t Vicky have maybe asked one of the younger girls? You’re practically ancient now, they probably teach the kids these days history from when you were growing up.”

Whatever Alexia looks like she’s going to be helping with looks like something she’s definitely not qualified in, although Alexia’s never the person to say no.

“You’re acting like I’m a dinosaur, I’m only four years older then you.”

She rolls her eyes at you and it feels so normal, for a second you feel so much more normal. Life would be so much easier if everybody stopped treating you like a fine fucking piece of china. An eye roll here or there, a yell here or there, some kind of emotion beyond sympathy would be nice.

“I mean, in comparison to Vicky you’re pretty much from the stone ages.”

Alexia rolls her eyes again, she looks like she’s about to fight back against you but a knock at the door silences you both.

All of a sudden the little smile is gone and the air goes thick again, thick with the reminder that you can’t just exist in a bubble of nothingness were nobody else exists and you can just be free from everything.

Alexia gets up to open the door, and you let her, allowing yourself to loiter around the table and enjoy the moment for just a little bit longer. It’s that moment that might just get you through what is about to happen.

Alexia calls for you and you know it’s Mapi, you know it’s Mapi because Mapi won’t step foot in your apartment.

Ingrid had come to visit when you’d come home, along with a handful of other people, but Mapi hadn’t been one of them. Ingrid had explained that it had been to hard for her, that she’d made it to the door but couldn’t come in, and you couldn’t find it in you to blame her.

Mapi smiles at you when she sees you, it’s the first time you’ve seen her since the hospital and the both of you look very different since then.

She looks less dead, that’s the first thing you take notice of. She doesn’t look like she would blow away into a puff of smoke if a gust of wind came past. She looks good, she looks healed.

Mapi and you don’t talk, for whatever reason, you take the normal walk you would every sunday morning before it happened.

Down from your apartment, onto the main street, up to the mouth of the road, across the street and then onto the boardwalk.

It’s the main reason you chose your apartment, it’s right next to the beach. Perfect for post matchday swims and a morning walk on the beach. It used to be yours and Mapi’s pregame routine and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of your feet moving down the sidewalk.

No words are spoken until the two of you are seated on the sand, a wordless agreement that you both come to when your toes hit the beach.

You’re both seated, your eyes looking over the horizon. Your too scared to break the silence, so you wait for Mapi.

“You look good, chica.”

You nod your head, you feel better, you must look better then how you did.

“I feel better.”

Mapi nods, when her hand reaches out to sit on top of your own on the sand, you don’t flinch away, it feels good to have a physical connection with a person who isn’t Alexia.

The silence falls over the two of you again, except this time it feels less uncomfortable. You let it linger for a little bit, before you feel in a place to speak.

“I need to say thank you. I know I said some things in the hospital, I meant it in the moment but I want to take it back now. You saved me, you did something so brave and amazing and the version of me now is so grateful that you did.”

Mapi stops your rant, before you can say something else.

“I would have done it for anybody else.”

The problem is you think, that you aren’t anybody else. It would be so much easier to give cpr to a random person on the street and never see them again, never have to be worried that you would see them again and there would be some kind of problem.

“But you did it for me. You saved me from myself, and I want you to know that I genuinely am so thankful for you. You didn’t choose the easy option and I put you in a extremely hard position. If anything had of happened to me, you would have blamed yourself and it wouldn’t have been your fault but you would have felt like it was.”

Mapi nods, and then you hear a sniffle and it makes you feel horrible.

Mapi’s crying, she’s crying and you don’t know what to do.

“You begged me to reverse it, in the hospital, you didn’t say some things. You begged me to stab you or do something. You told me it was my fault you were alive and that it was my responsibility to undo what I’d done.”

You take a deep breath, you didn’t remember it being that bad, but you remember Alexia telling you that some of the things you’d said had been unrepeatable.

“I can’t reverse what I said, in that moment I was in so much pain Maps. I actually can’t tell you how much pain i was in, all I wanted was to disappear. I’m working through not feeling that way and that starts by apologising. You did not deserve to experience what you did. You did not deserve to see what you did. You did not deserve to hear what I said to you. I am sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make any of it okay, I am sorry that for whatever reason god chose you to be the person burdened with this. I am so sorry.”

Mapi sniffles again. You knew that the possibility of no reconciliation was possible, that Mapi would reject any offer of apologies you had, you’d just really hoped it wouldn’t be like that.

“You’ve been like a little sister to me. I know you didn’t feel like we were that close, but I saw so much of me in you from when I was younger, and that was part of the reason I ended up at your apartment that night. Because I was worried, more then anybody else. I had this weird feeling, and I hated that I was right about it. You were like my little sister, and I watched as they strapped you onto a gurney and wheeled you off whilst telling me that they would try their hardest. I don’t blame you, there is no blame for something like this. But I need you to understand that I can’t just get over what I www, I’m working through it, I’m trying. My therapist has really been helping me, but it’s not going to disappear.”

You nod, Mapi and you have been through two mirroring experiences, and oddly you feel the same way about your own therapy. You’re working through it, you’re trying, but nothing that has happened is ever going to disappear, with yourself or with your peers.

“Maps, you’re allowed to experience however you want. If you never want to see me again I won’t hate you.”

Mapi shakes her head.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, I just need you to know that I understand that the you right now is different to the you from weeks ago, and you are entitled to separate yourself from that person. You don’t have to be that person if you don’t want to be. Let yourself live in the new version of you, the old version died back then.”

You bite your lip, there is beginning to become a permanent divet from your front teeth, you like it in a weird way.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying.”

Mapi nods, raising her arm from your hand, to your shoulders, bringing you into her side.

“We’ll try together then, huh? You try for me and I’ll try for you?”

You nod your head, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re totally alone in the battle that you’re fighting. It’s still very much your battle, but it feels like you have somebody in your corner letting you know that you are going to be okay.

—————————————

well aware it’s not edited… if u have an issue with that such my dick xoxo

hope you enjoyed !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

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bunnysbrainrot · 9 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

#fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #bunny writes #smut #smut writing #the last of us fanfiction

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ln4bub · 1 year ago

Note

If you’re still looking for inspo: reader riding Oscar for the first time.

(Idk it’s summer and there’s a nationwide shortage of ADHD meds so my brain is just saying things. I also know you’ve got a whole load of requests so don’t feel pressured to write anything if you don’t wanna)

A/N - in an Oscar mood after he made his first appearance in the wild over winter break so enjoy what comes of it lmao. Sorry for the brief hiatus, I just came home from Uni so I’ve been with family all weekend <3

-----------------------------------------

You shove Oscar’s shoulder gently, laughing as he dramatically collapses onto the bed. You follow after him, resting your weight on top of him. His large arms wrap around your smaller frame, holding you tight against him as you pepper kisses all over his face. He chuckles at your antics, his laugh shaking your body. You pull away, giggling at the lipstick marks covering his face along with the pink tinge to his cheeks. He stares up at you, pulling his lip between his teeth as he studies your face. You squirm under his stare, your legs squeezing his hips as your gaze fixates on his lips.

You feel him grow semi-hard at your squirming, the light grinding of your hips against his own feeling like heaven. He pulls himself up, arms wrapped around your back as your legs wrapped around his back. You lean in gently, your breaths mingling between your mouths. His eyes flicker down to your lips, nose bumping yours as he leans closer. Your lips graze his, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Oscar's lips caress your own, molding together, familiar with each other. You keep expecting Oscar to roll you over but he doesn't, instead sliding his hands to your hips and encouraging your grinding as his tongue slips into your mouth. You feel him grow hard below you, gentle whimpers flooding the space between your lips and his own.

His large hands slide under your shirt, encouraging you to remove it. He leans back slightly, tugging his McLaren shirt over his head in one smooth motion as you remove your own top. The skin-on-skin contact sends shivers down your spine as he wraps his arms around you once more. His hands trace patterns over your skin as he buries his head in your neck. His soft lips press kisses against your skin, smirking at the jump of your pulse from each touch. "Want you to do something new for me sweetheart," He mumbles against your neck, warm lips sucking lightly as you whine, hips bucking against him. You hum inquisitively, looking down at your boyfriend.

He stares up at you, eyes wide and pupils blown. “Will you ride me?” He asks softly, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. You bite your lip at the request, nodding before unhooking your bra and throwing it to the floor. Oscar’s mouth descends on your chest, nibbling and sucking at the soft skin. His tongue swirls around your nipples, sending shockwaves to your core as you moan for him. “So sensitive, want you to make me feel good, can you do that?” Oscar asks, large hand resting on your ass as the other comes to cup the back of your neck.

“Yeah I can Oz,” You whine, tugging at his trousers. You stand from your position straddling him as the both of you remove the rest of your clothing. Oscar wraps his hand around his cock as he watched you undress, pumping himself to the sight of your body. A flush covers your chest in embarrassment yet you can’t help but admire his body. The way his muscular arm flexes with each pass of his fist, the way his throat bobs each down he swallows, the way his eyelids flutter when his thumb swipes over the tip, or the way his thighs clench in pleasure. You saunter closer to him, his hand falling away from himself.

He’s big, and thick. You hadn’t ridden him purely out of intimidation, fearing the awkwardness of being unable to take him inside you. You straddle him, feeling the pulse of his cock below your wet pussy as you grind down against him. He groans at the feeling, “So wet for me, bet you can’t wait to have my cock inside you can you?” Oscar questions. He feels the way your pussy throbs at his question. Without answering him you wrap your hand around the base of his member, sliding the tip through your folds. You grind your clit against his tip with each pass, more wetness flooding between your legs.

Oscar’s eyes close as the head of his cock slips into you, your tight walls encasing him. You whine from the stretch, his thick cock feeling impossible to take from this angle. His fingers come to rub your clit, your walls relaxing against him as you sink further and further. Eventually he bottoms out, a slight bulge in your stomach where his cock rests. He groans at the sight, “Look at that baby, you must feel so full.” You grind down against him, your clit against his pubic bone. With a hand on your ass Oscar lifts you off him, relishing the drag of your walls against his length. “There we go, knew you could take me.” He mumbles, eyes not moving from where you are connected.

Eager to cum you begin bouncing on his cock, the slick sounds of your wetness connecting you both filling the room. Oscar’s thighs are soaked with your arousal, the sticky feeling covering your own thighs with each move. His hands cup your tits as you move, mouth enveloping your nipple. You moan at the warm feeling, walls clamping in pleasure. Gentle nibbles followed by purple marks litter your chest as you whine and whimper, Oscar’s dick stretching you. He pulls you to lean forward slightly, causing his cock to hit your g-spot with every bounce. Tears fill your eyes at the overwhelming feeling, your legs beginning to burn with exertion.

Oscar’s thumbs wipe away your tears as he cups your face, “You’re doing so good for me baby, just a little longer. Wanna feel my girl cum around me.” He coos. You bite your lip as his thumb circles your clit. The hand remaining on your face pulls away only to come back seconds later with a gentle but stinging force. “Don’t you dare hide your noises, want to hear how good my big dick is making you feel.” He tells you, grinning at the loud moan spilling from your lips. You can feel your orgasm approaching, as can Oscar. His thumb moves faster as he begins to meet your thrusts, stomach still bulging each time he plunges himself inside you. Your thighs shake and your knees burn as you reach your high, head thrown back and tits bouncing with the force of Oscar’s thrusts. He chases his own high as he fucks you through yours, the sound of your slick echoing further as you soak his dick. “That’s it baby, so good. Where do you want me to cum?” He mumbles, breathless with pleasure.

“Inside me Ozzie, please. Want you to fill me up.” You moan, collapsing against his chest as he fucks up into you. It’s the feeling of your lips on his thick neck that sends him over the edge, ropes of cum painting your walls white. Oscar groans your name, holding you against his body as he empties himself inside you. The pair of you pant with the effort of your activities, cheeks flushed and skin sweaty. Oscar sits up, his cock stirring inside you as you whimper in sensitivity. Standing from the bed he carries you to the bathroom, helping you shower as he watches his cum drip down your thighs in awe.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #smut prompts #smut requests #smut writing #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 smut #op81 imagine #op81

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mokifish · 8 days ago

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Art dump! Sorry for the hiatus, but I’ve been pretty busy lately 😭. This is all random stuff from November/December btw.

Also, here's Saint-Just! I might make more frev art, but I want to read more about it, so probably in the distant future lol.

Also, happy new years everyone!! 🎉🎉

#napoleonic era #napoleonic wars #art #my art #joachim murat #jean lannes #jean baptiste bessières #jean baptiste bernadotte #napoleon bonaparte #louis antoine de saint just #frev #josephine de beauharnais #more lannes art but i've been reading his biography recently so it felt obligatory haha

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ma1dita · 9 months ago

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love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.5k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: sorry for the hiatus! been on the study grind and didn’t even notice, but i’ve been working on this for a bit! macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time.

(posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care.

With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc.

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once.

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home.

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this.

Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands.

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts.

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields.

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home… He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods.

It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask.

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere.

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold.

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide.

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.”

You wouldn’t have come, anyway.

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side.

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times.

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real.

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off.

Lose myself.

Lose you.

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, Trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…”

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you.

But then gods, why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

“We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.”

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel.

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he’s been dealt with. You know that.”

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?”

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan fanfic #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians

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in-som-niyah · 4 months ago

Note

ok i’ve been having this thought for a while… since jason is so attentive what are some things he would do that makes reader’s life easier??? like i see him as such an acts of service man like if all else fails he will make sure you’re never out of your fav tea or something idk im sorry if this doesn’t make sense 😭😭

"I Do, I Do, I Do"

A/N: digging myself out of a depressive episode with this one + this is my first fic after my long ass hiatus so pls be nice to me im trying

Attentive!Jason Todd will pay so much attention to you you would think he has a camera on you 24/7 and watching your every move.

Jason would remember the big things, like anniversaries and birthdays, but also days of the year when he knows you need the most support from him. If a parent/guardian/loved one died on a specific day/time of year he's attuned to your emotional needs and keeps up with your physical ones (like food and sleep) so you can focus on being ok again. (i am NOT projecting chat)

Jason would also remember the little things, like your favourite tiny spoon, the way you prefer spearmint to wintermint in gum and toothpaste, the way you compulsively brush your hair to the side when your bangs get too long, when it's time for you to leave a social situation. He's just always looking at you and around you to make sure you're happy and smiling when you wave back at him form across the room.

If you have health problems, Jason would never in his life let you run out of meds or whatever you need to combat your illness. The massage gun is always charged, heating pad always available, hot water bottles on standby, compression socks/arm bands at your disposal, everything. He doesn't wait for it to get bad either, he's picked up on your cues so well that he can almost predict a disaster before you do.

Speaking of prediction, he also knows that if you're not off work and in the apartment by a certain time, to start the laundry, dishes and order in/cook a quick dinner because he knows you'll come home a tense ball of stress and worry.

Jason who almost exclusively wears a specific type of softer fabric when you're around him because he loves it when you bury your face in his chest and rest your head on his bicep.

(For the short girlies) Jason who puts rubber corner protectors on the corners of your countertops and tables because you always bash your hips into them when you aren't paying attention.

Jason who does the laundry before you wake up in the morning and folds your clothes exactly the way you do because he knows you're particular about it & doesnt want you to stress about it in the morning.

Jason who puts gas in your car and repairs it himself or sends it to the bats to fix when he can't (he would never admit it though).

Jason who notices your favourite brands of food and makes sure they're always stocked (you're convinced it's witchcraft the way things don't run out)

Jason who just loves you. That's it. That's all. Just love. In any and all ways he can. All the time. In all conditions. In all situations. Patient. Loving. Kind.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason peter todd #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #dcu #jason todd comfort #red hood headcanon #dc red hood #the red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x you #dc robin

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srjlvr · 6 months ago

Text

SEVEN ROYALTIES

“once upon a time there was a promised couple, that time made them realize that sometimes, promises can be broken” — yang jungwon

yang jungwon x fem!reader genre: childhood friends to lovers , promised to marry , fluff , angst ! warnings: mentions of food , pregnancy i think , maybe curse words (do lmk if i missed something!!) || NOT PROOFREAD !!

WORD-COUNT ; 5.5k+

NOTE. WOW!!!! can you believe how much time it took me to write this? i had an intense writer block and didnt know where to continue, lets not forget about my basically hiatus bc of school and etc.. im SO terribly sorry for taking too long, y’all clearly don’t deserve that!! also, riki’s parts are kind of mentioned? not so sure…

��ready?”

“i’ve never been ready-ier”

“that’s not even a word!”

“and who are you to decide?”

“stop fighting will you? it happens every time, unbelievable”

“y/n, jungwon, stop bickering, everyone’s waiting for you”

you took a deep breath and jungwon held your hand.

as you entered the big hall all you could’ve heard for claps and cheers.

“happy birthday!” they all said in harmony.

that’s right, you and jungwon celebrate your birthday together, as you were born at the same day within a few hours difference, he was born first.

it probably had something to do with your mothers being best friends.

the queens of other kingdoms being inseparable just shows everyone that you don’t have to be in rivalry to win a happy life.

when your mother announced her pregnancy, jungwon’s mother cried out of joy, saying that she too, is pregnant.

it was even more exciting to see both of the queens celebrate everything that has to do with their pregnancy together.

birthday celebrations has never been as big as your birthday, mostly because of the over excitement your mothers both felt and still feel.

as soon as they revealed the genders, it was like a sign for them, and even before you were born, you were promised to each other.

“y/n, meet jungwon” your mother used her sweetest voice as she introduced jungwon to you. you were one day old and the queens already made sure you know each other, even though you probably won’t remember it.

“you do realize they won’t remember it in five minutes too, right?” your father tried to bring her back to earth but she was already gone in cloud 9.

growing up was quite interesting you’d say.

your mom made sure to visit hybe kingdom every monday and thursday, and jungwon’s mother came to visit every tuesday and friday. it has already became a ritual for both you and jungwon.

“y/n! it’s time to go!” your mother called you while you were busy playing with jungwon.

“i have to go now, but i will see you tomorrow, right?” you asked him and he nodded.

“you already know you will”

there was nothing more touching than to see you and jungwon getting along and spending time together, your mothers were clearly the happiest.

not only that you got along with jungwon, you got along with each of his siblings, and he definitely had bunch.

“fancy seeing you here again, y/n” heeseung came and ruffled your hair.

“it’s like we haven’t seen you for years!” jake added.

“how have you been? we missed you” jay hugged you.

“you’re always playing with jungwon but never walk up to us” sunghoon pout.

“we’re just glad to see you again” sunoo smiled widely.

“y/n can i join you two?” riki asked

they were definitely your siblings as well, and you love each and every one of them.

“find your own y/n then! don’t steal her from me” jungwon would always argue with them and scoff.

you just giggled and gave each of them a hug before going outside with jungwon.

“don’t be too harsh on them” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“they’re just trying to tease me”

“they’re your siblings, it’s like, a part of them”

he rolled his eyes once again and started running around.

as you slowly grow up with each other, you were slowly starting to develop something special towards each other.

“drawing again?” jungwon caught you in one of your castle rooms you used to paint in.

you grew a lot of habits, and one of them was drawing. you were never really confident in them, but jungwon always complimented them and even took some of them to hang in his room, he kept you motivated.

“you already know” you giggled.

growing up together for thirteen years already taught you so much about each other, you knew his strengths and his weaknesses, and he knew yours.

“can you teach me some tricks?” he asked and you looked at him confused, “i want to learn how to draw too”

you nodded and prepared a new canvas for him.

“sit here and adjust your chair so that it’ll feel comfortable enough for you, your hands needs to be a bit bent but not too much” you ordered him and he did as you said.

“usually you just start with a few….” you started teaching him the basics and guided him through it.

“before you make that line, make sure it’s angled and…” you held his wrist and fixed his posture as well, “like that!”

you failed to notice his blushing cheeks as you were too focused on teaching him, but he was too busy thinking about how close you are.

“it was fun seeing you today! i’ll see you tomorrow!” jungwon waved you goodbye as he left.

you left out a big sigh as he left, lately your mind has been occupied by so many thoughts about the future.

“is something wrong dear?” your mother, who stood next to you held your shoulders and caressed them.

“i’m just worried about something” you pout and your mother bent down a bit.

“what is it?” she asked softly.

“what if me and jungwon will no longer be together like the way we are now? what if he’ll lose interest and……”

“y/n, honey, you and jungwon are promised to each other, no matter what happens you’ll always be together”

you and jungwon basically grew up into the fact that you’re promised to each other, your families barely even mentioned it because it was so easy to understand.

“you’re right, but what if…?”

“you’re too worried about something that will probably never happen!” she joked and you nodded.

right, you’re probably overreacting.

at age sixteen, your parents signed you up for a royalty high school, where the high society teens attended. and of course they forced jungwon’s parents to sign him up too, with the excuse of ‘it’s always better to have more education!’

“ready?”

“i’ve never been ready-ier”

“that’s still not a word” jungwon signed and you just giggled.

“before we get in the class,” you spoke and extended your pinky in front of him, “promise me nothing bad is going to happen between us”

“don’t be stupid, of course nothing will happen” he locked your pinkies together and laughed.

even though he laughed it out, inside he was scared for his life. he knows high school changes people’s personalities, and he was so damn scared that something might happen between the two of you.

he doesn’t care about losing everything else in his life, as long as he never loses you.

“please welcome y/n and jungwon!” the teacher introduced you to the classroom and you heard cheers and claps.

you released your hand that was holding jungwon’s and waved at your new classmates.

jungwon looked at you, confused with your actions.

“hello, i’m y/n, please treat me well” you smiled and they all clapped and cheered again.

“y/n please sit next to leehan” leehan raised his hand.

“oh but we—“ jungwon was about to ask the teacher to let you sit together but you were to quick to move away and sit beside leehan.

“hello, i’m jungwon” he introduced himself and the class cheered.

“jungwon please sit next yunah” the teacher asked and jungwon went to sit beside minju.

he was already starting to feel like nothing good is going to come out of this.

“hey y/n! let’s sit for lunch!” jungwon called you and you nodded happily.

“i told leehan he can join us too! can you believe i actually made a new friend?” you asked and he nodded.

he was really happy to see you happy.

“is that okay?” you looked at him worriedly and he immediately smiled.

“of course! i’m excited to meet your friend!!” he genuinely smiled and started walking with you.

he was about to grab your hand and hold it but noticed you were busy holding your books.

guess your holding hands’ agreement is starting to fall.

“i know nothing about this school, we almost got lost at the entrance” you joked and leehan chuckle as jungwon was busy overthinking.

“i’ll guide you whenever you want, just tell me and i’ll be there” leehan replied and you smiled.

oh how jungwon wished the be the only one who can make you smile like that.

lunch went amazing according to you, jungwon was too deep in thoughts to notice it anyway.

“won! i won’t be going back home together with you today, leehan invited me to his place”

“hm? oh, okay” he mumbled as he saw your excited look on your face.

you were so excited to get new friends that you’ve failed to notice jungwon’s weird actions throughout the whole day.

he’s been weirdly quiet, barely even had a normal conversation with someone.

“jungwon? why aren’t you eating?” heeseung, his older brother did manage to notice his weird personality shift, jungwon would usually eat and brag about how much he enjoys his meal.

“just not feeling too hungry” the younger sighed as his six other brothers looked at him.

“something is not right” jay whispered to heeseung and he nodded.

“are you sur—“ “yeah, i’m sure” he pierced his gaze towards them and left them speechless.

he’d never get into a person’s sentence.

“okay then”

the awkwardness was very much present after that.

“so y/n tell us, how was school?” your parents asked.

“oh it was amazing! i met a new friend, his name is leehan”

“leehan from (name of kingdom)?” your mother’s eyes widened.

you nodded and smiled, “he was actually being kind and sincere!”

“oh that’s amazing! i heard he’s a very much handsome guy, how come you’ve never seen him in any celebrations we go to?”

“don’t be silly honey, she always paid attention to jungwon”

“jungwon!”

“hm?”

before you even let them finish their question, you got up from your seat, “it’s late, but i need to go to see jungwon!” you hurried outside.

“you have a visitor” those four words managed to confuse jungwon, who in their right minds would come visit him at this hour?

“yunah?” he asked as he noticed the figure that was waiting for him in his garden.

“jungwon! i had to see you, even if its so late already” she smiled and got closer to hug him but he stopped her.

“what are you doing here at this hour? couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?” he asked, he can’t remember being so close to her to the point that she’ll be showing up in his place at this hour. they just met today!

“i…i just wanted to tell you that if you need any help i’ll be here to assist you, i’m really glad to have you as my classmate” this time she hugged him before he could stop and he just froze in his place, trying to process what was happening.

while yunah was busy hugging jungwon, and he was busy being so deep in thoughts and confused, you were there to witness it all.

you wanted to ask him about his day, to tell him how much fun you had with leehan and how you couldn’t stop telling him stories about jungwon, you wanted jungwon to be included in anything that you did, and with every new friend that you got.

you didn’t even want to interrupt their so called ‘beautiful moment’. you were so confused and too tired to even understand what was happening.

so you ran away back to your place, promising to yourself that from now on, you’ll take a step back from jungwon and let him live his life freely.

so what if you’re promised to each other? sometimes people can’t keep their promises.

“jungwon”

“hm?”

“what if we grow apart one day?”

“that’ll never happen”

“but what if it will?”

“i will make sure it’ll never happ—“

“what if it will?”

“i…..i will make sure to get us back together”

“what if i’ll end up hating you?”

“y/n what kind of—“

“answer me please”

“i will continue trying to get you back to me, even if you hate me”

“what if you’ll start liking someone?”

“i’ll get back to my senses, we’re promised to each other!”

“sometimes promises can’t be kept…..”

“hm?”

“never mind….”

“now tell me, why did you ask those questions?”

“i’m just scared to lose you”

“you’ll never lose me”

thinking about this old moment between you and jungwon made you chuckle in disbelief, you were right all along.

always trust your instincts.

“hey y/n!” jungwon called you.

“hi” you answered dryly.

“is everything okay?” he asked worriedly and you hummed.

“let’s go grab ice crea—“ “can’t, going out with friends after school”

“oh…okay”

it hurt like a bitch seeing his disappointed face, but he has yunah now, she can help him feel better.

“jungwon! didn’t get to ask how was your first day at school yesterday!” leehan smiled towards jungwon who sat across him on lunch.

“it was okay”

“how is it going with you and yunah? i saw the both of you getting really close”

you almost choked on your food hearing what leehan said.

“yeah she’s a great friend”

great friend my ass.

“i’d like to see where it’s going” leehan winked and jungwon returned to eat his lunch while you rolled your eyes.

slowly but surely, the days flew by, and with each day that passed, you and jungwon became more distant.

“where’s jungwon?” leehan asked as you were about to take a bite from your lunch.

“huh? oh, i don’t know” you shrugged.

for the first time ever since you started school, jungwon didn’t sit with you for lunch.

he got some new friends to sit with, yunah was one of them.

you also, got yourself your perfect friends circle, you became basically inseparable.

both yours and his friends, were there to witness how you slowly turn into strangers, and it scared them.

all of the students in the school knew each other, as everyone always attend to the same events and see each other. it was no wonder everyone knows about you and jungwon and how strong your bond is.

while everyone was busy chatting with strangers on big events, you and jungwon made sure to stick together no matter what.

it pains almost every student to be witnessing your sudden distance and awkwardness.

“hey honey! it’s been a while since we saw jungwon, are you both okay?” your mother asked, concerned as its been months since she last saw her best friend’s son.

“yeah mom, we’re always hanging out with our shared friends”

lying is not cool y/n.

“oh! well invite him here sometimes too! i miss my son” she pout and hugged you.

you just sighed in relief and hugged her back.

“i’m changing some seats arrangements, so each two students names i say will sit together” your teacher ordered and you sighed, praying that she’ll let you stay next to leehan.

“y/n and jungwon” your worst nightmare happened.

it’s not like you were enemies, the tension was just so awkward between the two of you.

as if nothing happened between you two before.

you took your bag and sat next to jungwon without saying a word. you failed to notice his sincere look on his face, he really misses you.

“with your new seats, you’ll be also getting a new project to work on in pairs, your partner will be the one who sits next to you” okay now you’re sure universe hates you.

jungwon cleared his throat before he spoke, “let’s start working on it tomorrow, you’re free to come to my place”

my place. it used to be ‘our’ place before.

“don’t worry about missing me! i’ll see you tomorrow at your place!” younger you smiled widely at younger jungwon as you waved goodbye to him.

“it’s not only my place! it’s yours too!! from now on its ‘ours!’” he said and you nodded.

“same about my pl— our place!” you giggled.

whenever one of you would invite the other, you’d use the term ‘our’ place.

now jungwon said his place, and it suddenly felt so cold and distant.

you slowly nodded and walked away.

jungwon watched you as you stepped away, he wanted to add more, he wanted to tell you he misses seeing you at his place but failed, something was stopping him from doing so.

“y/n dear it’s been a while since we saw you! i feel like i’ve seen yunah here lately more than you!” jungwon’s mother welcomed you with open hands, “better keep up the competition” she teased and winked, knowing no matter what, you and jungwon will end up together anyway.

it wasn’t the same for you though.

“he’s in his painting room, only god knows how he’s the only one who managed to keep his habit” she’s referring to your old habit of drawing. if it wasn’t you who taught him your few tricks he probably would’ve find interest in something else, but something in painting just drew him to it.

you on the other hand stopped with your little habit, choosing a new one to entertain you.

you knocked softly on the door, and you heard a loud thud sound, “is everything okay?” you asked.

“yeah….” you heard a faint voice and relaxed as he opened the door.

his hair was a bit messy and curly, and you could see the paint stains on his face as he tried to wipe them off. he looks so cute.

“hey” you called, “hey” he answered.

“um, we said we’d work on the project”

“oh right, um” he sighed, “just wait in my room i’ll get cleaned up”

you nodded and instead of going to his room you roamed around.

“y/n!” you heard a voice calling you, you looked behind you and saw riki smirking at you.

“what a surprise” he said, “we haven’t seen you here lately”

“yeah, school has been really stressful, but we’re hanging out together after school with our shared friends” you lied again.

“y/n i thought we never keep lies in our family” he glared at you.

him being younger than you doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be scared of him.

this troublemaker is terrifying.

“i’m sorry?”

“y/n! i’m so glad to see you” heeseung came to rescue and hugged you tightly, “we all missed you, can’t stop talking about you”

he was glaring at riki and signaling him to go away while you were busy hugging him so you didn’t even notice.

riki rolled his eyes, “um, i have some arrangements to make for my birthday, so i’ll see you around”

you nodded and continued hugging heeseung.

“how have you been?” you asked

“oh you know, dealing with one specific person”

“huh?”

“not something you should worry about”

“y/n?” jungwon came back and heeseung winked at you as he got the clue and walked away.

“i was on my way to your room when i got stopped by riki”

jungwon nodded, although both of you know very well that the place you’re in isn’t even on the way to jungwon’s room.

“so let’s part the project and each one of us will do their part instead of always working on it together” you suggested.

“i can get leehan’s help—“

“no we can work on it together”

“it’s really fine—“

“we need to work on it together so we’ll understand each other better” he raised his voice a bit and you were taken aback.

“you’re right” you mumbled and nodded.

a few hours passed since you started working on the project together, and the only words you exchanged were words about your project and nothing more than that.

you miss being with him and hanging out with him, but not like that.

“why don’t you stay for dinner y/n?” his mother asked as it was already late.

as you were busy staring at her, jungwon glanced at you, his eyes full of hope that you’d say yes, he missed this.

“i can’t today…i promised my parents i’ll eat with them today” you respectfully declined the offer as you were lying through your teeth.

your parents were on duties and you’d eat your dinner alone today, you were just too afraid that once you stay for dinner, you won’t be able to leave. you will never want to.

“alright darling, i really enjoyed seeing you, come here more! i know school is stressful but we’d really like to see you”

you gave her a hug and went away.

“oh right jungwon! you need to start getting ready to your brother’s wedding, it’s in a few days and nothing is ready yet!”

jay’s wedding is coming closer and closer, jungwon would once again will have to be introduced to other princesses, although everyone already knows who's the person he’s going to marry.

he just nodded and went back to his room.

when he entered his room, he noticed you forgot your bracelet as you put it down to be able to write better.

he sighed loudly, knowing he’d have to give it to you the other day.

you and jungwon rarely talk in school already, it’ll be very awkward to do so but he knows he has to, the chances of seeing you outside of school are low.

“here, you forgot it at my place” he mumbled as he handed you your bracelet at lunch in front of your friends.

they started whispering and gasping as you cleared your throat, “thank you” you quickly took it and put it on your hand again.

he nodded slightly and walked away back to his friends.

“what was that?” one of your friends asked.

“nothing” you mumbled and stuck a spoon in your mouth.

“oh you look so pretty! i pity all the princes you’re about to meet, they don’t know yet that you’re off the market” your mother clasped her hands and smiled.

being introduced to other royalties as creating a curiosity and maybe getting the chance of finding a partner was very common around your age, your and jungwon’s parents didn’t want to tell everyone the great news of their promised children, and chose to keep business as usual.

you nervously smiled and sighed, this is going to be a long night.

“oh y/n, you’re so pretty!” jungwon’s mother hugged you tightly and complimented you more than you could ever imagine.

“thank you” you did you curtsy and walked away after she told you to search for jungwon.

you didn’t actually search for him, you took one glass of champagne and stood next to one of those high tiny tables that were only big enough to hold your champagne cups.

“fancy seeing you here” you heard a voice really close to you and as you looked to your left you saw leehan.

“you scared me!” you playfully punched his shoulder and he giggled.

“you look very beautiful today” he said.

“so i look ugly in any other day?” you teased and he quickly shook his head.

“today is just, special”

you hummed and took a sip of your champagne.

“i’m actually surprised you noticed me in such event, usually you’d be around jungwon all night” he joked and you chuckled, “yeah”

“oh y/n we’ve been searching for you!” your parents called and you excused yourself from leehan.

“meet prince sohee from (name of kingdom)!” they introduced the prince who looked like he was younger than you by a few years.

his round eyes and soft gaze made your cheeks heat up. he was one of a kind prince and no one could deny his beauty.

“nice to meet you, i’m y/n” you did your curtsy and he kissed your hand.

you were so busy being introduced to and introducing yourself with your parents to notice someone’s eyes were on you the whole time.

before the wedding started his mother reassured him that the princes you were going to meet today meant nothing as you were promised to him, so why was he feeling so unconfident about it?

sohee’s visuals are no joke, out of all the princes here did they have to choose him?

he wanted to look away but his eyes refused to do so, so he was witnessing everything until it was over.

he wanted to leave, imagining so many scenarios about you asking to break the promise so you could marry sohee.

“jungwon! come here son!” his mother called and he knew it was his time now.

revenge time.

“meet princess yena from (name of kingdom)!” his parents introduced her as he took the back of her hand and kissed it.

he smiled widely as he introduced himself, knowing another pair of eyes might be watching him.

as you returned to leehan after the introduction, he began telling you stories about seeing you and jungwon always together.

you were too busy looking at jungwon staring deeply in yena’s eyes, as if he just saw the prettiest princess in the hall.

leehan’s words became faint as you focused only on him.

the way he looks at her, the way he treats her, they’ve only met but it feels like he knows and been in love with her for years.

tears threatened to fall from your eyes as anxiety washed all over you.

“are you okay—“ “excuse me leehan”

you bowed formally and went to one of the balconies to let it all out.

“come on! no one would find us here!” younger jungwon dragged you to the balcony as you were scared to get caught.

“it’s so boring! listening to their conversations, ‘blah blah blah’” he mocked the elderly as you laughed.

“are you sure no one is going to find us?” you asked nervously.

“y/n we always sneak out to this place and never get caught”

one of the reasons you and jungwon only had each other is because you’re always sneaking out to the balcony instead of interacting with other people.

you’d usually get some snacks and sit together in the balcony to play some games and laugh about anything until you felt like it was the right time to return.

you spent so many beautiful memories in this balcony.

thinking about these old memories made your eyes tear up even more.

you miss everything about the two of you, how did it get to the point that you’re crying in the balcony you used to laugh until your stomach hurt?

“take this” you stopped whining and looked at the hand that handed you a tissue.

you looked up to see riki.

“thank you” you took the tissue and wiped your tears.

“i better get going before i—“ “RIKI!!!!”

“it’s my cue to leave, sorry” he pat your shoulder and ran away.

your relationship with riki was complicated, this boy was scary as hell, that troublemaker did cause lots of problems to his family, but you always made sure to join his antics sometimes.

as scary as he is, he cares about you a lot, you basically raised him together with jungwon, you’re one of the few people who showed interest in him and actually played along with him.

you wondered if he’ll ever find the right one for him.

“you’re not so pretty when you cry, you know?” you looked behind you and this time you saw sunoo standing there with a smile.

“maybe i don’t want to be pretty” you mumbled and he giggled as he took a few steps closer.

“how have you been?” he asked.

“okay” you dropped your glance to your hands, one of the habits that sunoo noticed you do when you lie.

“you already know that i know that you’re lying” he replied.

“it’s complicated”

“i know”

“it really is”

“let time do it’s thing, he misses you too” sunoo rubbed your back, “i need to go now, wipe those tears away and change them into a smile”

you did as he told as he got inside the hall again.

you sighed heavily, does he really miss you?

sunoo said it probably to let you feel better about it.

you decided to walk around the place, avoiding the hall at any cost.

curiosity took over as you stood in front of his painting room, what was he doing there last time you came?

you opened the door and was welcomed by the smell of overused paint brushes and an aroma you can’t really describe.

you looked around the room and was amazed by his paintings, he really is a better painter than you.

you looked over to the canvas that was on the stand, probably an unfinished project of him.

if there’s one thing you noticed as soon as you took in all of his paintings, is that he always had a specific figure in them.

whether the figure was standing, running in the rain, sitting at a bus stop, it’s always the same one.

as you moved closely to the canva, you noticed the figure from close, the figure was playing the piano, the details about the piano were so familiar to you, and the room the figure sat in looked exactly like something you’ve already seen before.

“what do you think?” you askes jungwon as you finished playing your favorite song on the piano.

after painting you moved to studying piano, you fell in love with the sound it made when you softly pressed the keyboards, and the melody it created.

being so excited about it, a day before you started your school, you sat jungwon next to you and showed him your finished project, create a new melody.

instead of being focused on the melody, jungwon was focused on you.

you were busy pressing on the keyboards and enjoying the music it makes while jungwon was busy looking at you and observing what he sees.

god, he was so in love with you.

then it finally kicked you, the figure in the painting is actually…..

“what are you doing here?”

you turned around to see jungwon standing nervously.

“jungwon….” you whispered, “is that me in those paintings?”

“what?” he asked, cursing himself for his unstable voice.

“is that me?” you asked again, he really hoped you’d drop it.

“yes” he answered softly and sighed.

tears started streaming down your face, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry..”

jungwon noticed your tears and moved close to wipe your tears with his thumb.

“why are you apologizing? you did nothing wrong”

you stared into his eyes and burst out into more tears, “the school, the new friends, us growing apart, and yunah that damn—“

“okay okay okay” he calmed you down and kissed your forehead before hugging you.

“i was so sure you’re angry at me” you whispered.

“angry at you? why?” he asked.

“the first day of school, it’s been a mess”

“oh, that” he chuckled, “can’t say i wasn’t angry, maybe a little? but i was more jealous”

“jealous?”

“yeah! you basically spent the whole day with leehan, what about me?” he scoffed.

as he still held your waist tightly and never broke your eye contact, you playfully punched his chest, “i wanted you to be friends with him too! at the same night i went to tell you about that and ask you about your day but—“ “you probably saw yunah….”

“yeah…”

he tucked your hair behind your ears and pecked your lips, “she means nothing to me, her hugging me meant nothing to me, she tried being a good friend and i let her do her thing because i wanted to make you jealous” he giggled, “now i realize it was a big mistake”

you pecked his lips again, catching him off guard, “big, big mistake”

“i missed you so much” he said, “missed holding you in my arms, spending days and nights with you, hearing your parents’ bragging about how big our wedding is going to be”

“i missed everything about you” you hugged him again and he hugged back.

“promise me something like this is never going to happen again” he said, “i was so scared to lose you”

“i promise, it’ll never happen, i’m yours”

“i love y—“

“there you are!! finally oh my god what took you so long!” sunghoon, jungwon’s older brother said as he found you and jungwon closer than ever to kiss.

“well? are you going to kiss?” he added.

“get out!!” both of you shout as he closed the door.

riki’s birthday party came in no time and your parents decided to announce everyone about your future wedding as well.

“we’d like to announce you that our y/n and jungwon are promised to marry each other!” your parents clapped, “when they grow more old of course!”

“who cares lets goooo!!” riki took the spotlight and raised a cup acting as if he’s drinking real alcohol.

cheers and claps were heard, some even smiled widely and wished the both of you happy future.

“hey y/n” jungwon called you and squeezed your hand that was holding his.

“hm?”

“thank you” he smiled, “for willing to spend your future with me”

“i’m yours jungwon, forever and ever”

“and i’m yours, forever and ever”

“god why so cheesy?”

“riki shut up!”

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