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hyukascampfire · 2 days ago

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you grabbed me by the hair and dragged me through the mud and then cut my heart out with this one. what the hell. i knew it was gonna hurt but damn. YOU DONT GET TO JUST TREAT ME LIKE THIS. NO MF AFTERCAREOR NOTHING JUST HURT. and also, the whimsy? yeonjun and reader literally just wanting each other but the world is just so fucking cruel? i loved their dynamic and the BANTER it was good enough to eat. i crown u banter queen. he’s so witty, this yeonjun is literally just FOXFOXFOX to me, more than usually even. god.

“The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars.” this is so mfk pretty,, i literally FEEL this. and the archer practicing under the starts… i love this fic.

It was her hair. Pink. call me delusional and say i’m doing too much but i think that the color pink could literally be a character in this fic. it’s there in little glimpses and wisps, but for some reason, each time it felt monumental. that’s actually so incredibly beautiful. it’s not secret that this fic is pink coded, but lowkey i think it goes further than that. i literally cannot explain to you how this makes me feel.

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” SIR YES SIR

jk i’m not leaving actually. you’d have to peel me off of this yeonjun.

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.” fucking hell im choked up. just a little. baby let yourself be loved 💔

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. IM ABT TO BUST WTF how did you know that this is my favorite thing. butterflies >.<;

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” mmmmmm.

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” just fell down to my knees in abject horror and agony. oh my god.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." fucking cries Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist.

i can not and will not be addressing kai and kora’s fates. the ability to make me so disgustingly attached to them in 24k words when some 100k novels can’t even manage that for me is beyond beautiful, and i did cry and now my chest aches and so i will NOT be going into that. for my own good. the letter to his family. you are a sick individual.

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” this is so very much summative of them. they both have these massive names to them, a legacy that precedes them, and yet really they have nothing more than each other. especially after being stripped of the very last things that they could call their own, the only interpersonal connections that they ever really got. in the end, all they had was each other and a future. i’m making myself choked up just writing this but UGH there is something about having nothing beyond hope.

hope is i think is a constant theme in this fic. the two of them start with absolutely zero, with any semblance of it stomped into the dirt. that was, until they met in that forest, and then they let themselves hope despite it all. despite how dangerous it was, and despite how they both knew that it’d give them hell. and it did. but in the end, at the very least, they still have that hope, yk? it was such a beautiful transformation to read. i love you for writing this and i am going to mystified and in agony over this until further notice.

A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock. “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words.

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you.

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.”

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father.

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.”

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.”

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips.

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out.

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it.

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were.

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful.

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before.

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip.

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?”

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough.

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out.

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess.

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was.

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.”

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.”

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you.

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?”

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.”

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight.

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal.

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all.

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak.

“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole.

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.”

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he?

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties.

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.”

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot.

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow.

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders.

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.”

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical.

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.”

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?”

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.”

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words.

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.”

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter.

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you.

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul.

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you.

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip.

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient.

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.”

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done.

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.”

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here.

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean.

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.”

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists.

“Do you understand?” your father demands.

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head.

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless.

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right.

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart.

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again.

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head.

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin.

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint.

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right?

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.”

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—”

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.”

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money.

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter.

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods.

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again.

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her.

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs.

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun.

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.”

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour.

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes.

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly.

Kai’s face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—”

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold.

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by.

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.”

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

It was her hair.

Pink.

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own.

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool.

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was.

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her.

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.”

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger.

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—”

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute.

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.”

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way.

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it.

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?”

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye.

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened.

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists.

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.”

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered.

And you’re reckless,” he shot back.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?”

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question.

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit.

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart.

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars.

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun.

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth.

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again.

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.”

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?”

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do.

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.”

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you.

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.”

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation.

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin.

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside.

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly.

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally.

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—”

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.”

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.”

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair.

“I’m not scared,” he shot back.

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.”

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me.

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.”

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him.

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go.

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.”

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again.

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.”

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.”

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.”

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.”

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you.

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.”

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him.

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.”

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?”

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.”

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.”

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time.

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.”

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.”

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly.

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.”

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest.

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer.

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you.

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it.

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire.

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly.

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out.

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again.

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you.

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.”

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy.

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff.

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.”

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss.

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair.

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment.

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.”

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses.

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back.

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons.

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures.

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable.

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away.

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-”

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly.

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.”

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile.

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing.

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured.

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy.

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?”

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that.

“Use your words sweetheart.”

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch.

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape.

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath.

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..”

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you.

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance.

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding.

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes”

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you.

“My god.” You whispered.

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand.

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips.

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips.

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless.

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze.

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight.

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.”

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you.

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine.

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving.

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.”

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain.

“No. Please move.”

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out.

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely.

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.”

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.”

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you.

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub.

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face.

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train.

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge.

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling.

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you.

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment.

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.”

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.”

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening.

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed. “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.”

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief.

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.”

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?”

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?”

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.”

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.”

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.”

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it.

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real?

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door.

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?”

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.”

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—”

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.”

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—”

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm.

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.”

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.”

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him.

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.”

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?”

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.”

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?”

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?”

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers.

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.”

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained.

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.”

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin.

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell.

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.”

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest.

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game.

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only.

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words.

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty.

Yeonjun.”

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back.

“Yeonjun,

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun.

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened.

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him.

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure.

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again.

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax."

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied.

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this."

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again.

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill.

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised.

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it.

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession.

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai.

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?"

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it.

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—"

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it."

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered.

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want."

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise."

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.”

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary.

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was.

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks.

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face.

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want."

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free."

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will."

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of."

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think."

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away.

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it.

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours.

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters.

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered.

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance.

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could.

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm.

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up.

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips.

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother.

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known."

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking.

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise."

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother.

"I love you," you whispered.

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know."

You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her.

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist.

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all."

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried."

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been.

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how."

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully.

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them.

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately.

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world."

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.”

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart.

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.”

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them."

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else."

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted."

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest.

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else.

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest.

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.”

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear.

Her marriage announcement.

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one.

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin.

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears.

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it.

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was.

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table . Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him.

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation.

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude.

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner.

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her.

Kang Taehyun.

The one she was supposed to marry.

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil.

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her?

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now."

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him.

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough.

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—"

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him."

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast.

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world."

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide."

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of.

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do."

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me."

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you.

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone."

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope.

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together."

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure.

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop.

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake.

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand.

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed.

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all.

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning.

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked.

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control.

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?”

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.”

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow.

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him.

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.”

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai.

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy.

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold.

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon.

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him.

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward.

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined.

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor.

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent.

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.”

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.”

“But-”

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob.

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest.

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.”

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.”

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.”

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was.

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses.

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor.

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered.

His breath caught. It was her.

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look.

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists.

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.”

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.”

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.”

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn.

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—”

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion.

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness.

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried.

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.”

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.”

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.”

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.”

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief.

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days.

Yeonjun.”

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.”

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.”

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.”

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.”

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

#(🪔) ─── 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑓 #﹙ 🪶 ﹚ ༉‧₊ ashlynn #literally made a reccs tag just for this #i love txt and fantasy #so beautiful and i think that my personal audience would love this :3

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l0rd-0f-c0ws · 4 months ago

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I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

#sorry if anyone sees these im tired of using my personal discord servet to vent. i always spiral too much #anyways i have an idea for a good poem to write for class because of recent events #ughhhh idk i just wish i wasnt so annoying about asking if i can open ip to people #or if someone would just ask if i was okay. i mean actually id probably lie i am not actually good at being open.#but like hey idk it feels nice to feel like people genuinely want to know #ughhhhfhfhf i do this to myself sometimes JSHSJSKDJDJD #welp its just how life goes. i feel lonely all the time and i soldier on #surely helping the next person will make me feel better! nope. surely helping yhis next person will make me feel better! nope. surely-#tgats me. thats what i sound like #yeah idk it feels like everyone is going through something worse than me so itd be a moral failing on my part #to ask them if i could just like. feel bad. noticeably #not even talk about it just look down and out of it for a day #yknow i emailed one of my teachers asking permission to go by a new preferred name #this is at like. a massive very queer and trans art school.#and i asked him permission to do this #and i was joking with my friends about how pathetic i sounded in it #and one of them patted me on the head and said “there there buddy” like very jokingly #but i almost cried because thats the first time in so long someone has like. really tried to comfort me #or shown me much physical affection #my mom gives me hugs and stuff but thats always about her. i dont blame her shes got a lot of stuff going on #but idk its really selfish of me but i just wanna have people see me and feel bad for me and it be about my pain for a little while #ill get over it im just being a teenager but shit god fucking damnit #i just want a break from feeling like my world is falling apart #then getting some footing #then it falling apart again #okay i feel a bit better now better stop the complain train JDJDJSKSJD #hey why do i never hear that it rhymes and everything thays so good #damn i gotta use that more #welp weve reached our stop sorry if anyone ever read thjs. hope you have a nice day tho lol

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stevesherdaddynowlover · 6 months ago

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indifferent [s.h.] 18+

an: heyyyy me again so yeah could not stop thinking about a pathetic steve so here we are!! enjoy and feel free to send suggestions, concepts, or just chat!!

side note i listened to i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys on a loop while writing this so do with thag what you will!

masterlist here!!

summary: you and steve are coworkers and while you try (and fail) to act like he doesn’t exist, he’s a little obsessed with you and would do anything to have your attention

(fem!reader x steve harrington)

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, public teasing (nothing too crazy), jealous reader, dirty talk, f masturbation, fingering, biting, kissing, spit, handjob MDNI!!!!!

wc: 15.5k

When it came to Steve Harrington, you were indifferent.

You didn’t fall in with the group of girls who fawned over him like some king, worshiping the ground he walked on and giggling at his attempts at jokes. But you didn’t fall in with the other group either. The ones that hated him, that called him names and rolled their eyes when he walked in the room with a smile on his face.

So you fell somewhere in the middle. To you Steve Harrington was your coworker, someone you often had to pick up the slack for or cover for when he was running late. You wouldn’t call him a friend but wouldn’t say he was your enemy either.

The arrangement the two of you had worked well for you. You’d cover for him or save his ass when needed, and in turn he’d leave you alone. Well sometimes he would. You didn’t mind him but sometimes it seemed like he could go on forever and you just…it drove you a little crazy, okay? He was good about leaving you be, making small talk for a little before the both of you quieted down and went about your shift.

Part of this arrangement was you teasing him until his cheeks burned and his felt fuzzy, but that was neither here nor there.

But sometimes you think he just couldn’t help it. He’d start going on about something and then it would be 45 minutes later and he’d still be going. You let him do this about once or twice a week. You didn’t mind him or his company, so if it made him happy to ramble on every once in a while you could live with that. He was a yapper and you were quiet. You would hum along to something you’d heard on the way to work and entertain his chit chat for a few minutes but that was really it.

Did that mean you couldn’t appreciate that he was actually really pretty? Of course not! He had dimples that made him seem boyish and sweet, even when he was being a menace. His hair was perfect, especially after he’d spent the day running his hands through it a million and one times. His lips were pouty and pink and so what if you stared at them when he was droning on about something? A perfect nose that you’d admired the slope of more times than you could count when he was sitting beside you going through returns.

He was pretty. You wouldn’t deny that. But that was it. No more, no less. It didn’t mean you liked him or wanted him or would fall to your knees for him like half of Hawkins did. Sure, you passed the time at work by teasing him and making him squirm, but it was only because you were bored and he was there, all pretty and willing.

You were indifferent.

****************************************

Steve liked you.

If you were in the same room as him he couldn’t help but to watch you. He didn’t know if you saw him and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d watch the way you’d tuck your hair behind your ear once every few minutes. He’d watch you scrunch your nose when you were reading and pout your rosy lips when sorting through dvd’s. God you were just so pretty.

He wanted your attention all the time, he craved it. He knew he looked like a little lovesick puppy the way he followed you around and hoped you’d smile at him or indulge his ramblings every now and then.

Pathetic. That’s what he was when it came to you. Sometimes you were a little mean to him but he liked it, loved anything you’d give him. He would even show up late on purpose sometimes just to hear you scold him!

“M’not always gonna be here to cover for you, Harrington. Be a big boy and get to work on time.”

His cheeks would be pink and he’d give you a shy smile, promising this was the last time but you both knew better than to believe that. You didn’t put up with his bullshit, you called him out when he needed it and you didn’t try and act like somebody you weren’t around him. He loved it.

Like today, you’d barely come in the door before he was on your heels, going on about some party from the weekend before and how it was sooo lame and that he didn’t have any fun. He’s so occupied with his rambling he doesn’t realize you’ve stopped until he slams into your back, hands coming up to grip your shoulders so you don’t both fall over.

Your hands grip the counter just in time and he expects you to turn around and gripe at him, scolding him like a toddler who’d been on your heels but you don’t. You huff a laugh and playfully shove at his shoulder, shaking your head.

“Jesus, Harrington. Maybe I need to get you a leash, hm?”

And maybe Steve likes that a little too much because he can feel the tips of his ears burning and blush working its way up his neck and covering his cheeks in a pink that makes him squirm.

He watched you quirk an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk on those lips he’s dreamed about for months and he wonders why he’s not more embarrassed, why his heart is racing and his cock is swelling in his pants. Fuck.

“On second thought, I think maybe you’d like that a little too much.”

*************************************

One thing you love about working with Steve is teasing him. You’ve done good to not let him get too close to you, staying neutral when it comes to his antics but you can’t help the giddiness you feel watching him blush and squirm when you’re mean to him. You’ve come to learn he likes when you embarrass him.

You’re embarrassed to admit it makes you feel a little powerful, a little special when you make him this way. He’s not the big, bad, ‘King Steve’ he was in high school when he’s in front of you, oh no. You think he’s quite pathetic the way he’s practically attached to your hip and you relish in the way he hangs onto every word you give him, especially considering you don’t give him much.

Like today you’re perched on a stool at the cash register, barely working oscillating fan doing little to cool you down when the ac is shitty, pushing around warm air that makes your thighs stick together and leaves a sheen of sweat on your forehead. You hate the heat, but what you don’t hate is the way Steve’s eyes are glued to your thighs, watching closely every time you readjust or a bead of sweat slides down your leg.

“Careful, Steve, I won't be happy if you drool on my leg.” That snaps him out of it, shoulders thrown back as he whips his head up to your face and oh yep! There’s those red cheeks you’ve come to like so much.

He opens his mouth to say something, probably nothing that would make sense but you spare him from trying to explain his wandering eyes, reaching down into your bag to pull out your next bit of entertainment for the day.

This’ll be good.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him watching you closely and you can’t help the smirk you wear when your fingers find what you were looking for, wrapping around it and pulling it out for Steve to see. You don’t miss the way his lips part or the way he grips the counter in front of you.

“They’re my favorite,” you wave the cherry blow pop in front of you like you’ve found gold, smirking at the way his eyes follow it through the air, “I only have the one but I can share, I guess.”

It would be rude of you to not offer him any. You might tease and be mean, but you certainly weren’t rude!

Ripping the wrapper off you waste no time, sticking the sweet treat in your cheek, throwing away the trash and swinging your legs around so you’re face to face with Steve, knees pressed against his as your feet dangle off the stool.

Maybe you could blame the way you make a show out of it on the lack of customers today. You’ve been here for 4 hours and only a handful of people have come in. Yeah, that’ll do. That’s why you pull it from your mouth with a pop that makes him flinch, lolling your tongue around the candy in a way that makes his eyes glaze over. You can hear him gulp when you hollow your cheeks and close your eyes, pretending like the taste of artificial cherry is what’s making your ears buzz and your heart race.

Dragging the blow pop from your mouth you gasp, letting your tongue swipe against your bottom lip that you’re sure is shiny with spit. “Oh, where are my manners! Here ya go, Harrington, have a lick.”

Not giving him a second to react, you surge forward, pushing the sucker against his lips before he has the chance to open, smearing the stickiness and your spit around his mouth and smiling wide at the sight of him, a tint of red around his pouty lips that suits him well.

“Messy boy, aren’t you?” You swipe your thumb over his lips, collecting some of the mess and you can see the way his tongue peaks out and you know he’s dying to let it touch your thumb. You pull back before he can, popping your thumb in your mouth and humming around it as if it’s the blow pop itself.

“Told you I could share!”

You could be indifferent to him and still want to make him melt to his knees for you, right?

**************************************

Steve thought about the cherry blow pop incident for weeks. He was surprised he didn’t cum in his pants like a teenager when the spit soaked treat touched his lips or when he watched you suck on your thumb after it swiped across his mouth.

That was just one example of how you tortured him, how he loved it. He’d had to go home that night and barely made it through the front door before he was pulling his cock out and picturing you on your knees in front of him, teasing him for being a “messy boy.”

You had no idea.

This shit would happen, these events that Steve was positive were chemically altering his brain chemistry, and he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you? You’d do something like that, something so hot it was engraved in his mind forever and then five minutes later it would be as though it never happened. You’d smirk at him, go back to what you were doing and spend the rest of the day ignoring him or giving him one word responses while he begged at your feet for a scrap of attention.

He really was like a puppy.

So he was confused, beyond confused on if you were friends, if you wanted him…he just didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen you act this way with anyone else and it made him feel…special. God he was pathetic.

The problem with all this was that he wasn’t entirely sure you didn’t hate his guts. I mean yeah, you’d tease and scold him when he was being an idiot and you were mean but never cruel or malicious. But you also never really went out of your way to start a conversation, never really cared to keep one up with him either. You rarely smiled at him, which killed him, because he saw the way you’d laugh at something Robin said or the amusement dancing in your eyes when the kids came in to raise hell. You never let him have it though, and fuck he wishes you would. All he got were teasing smirks and he wasn’t complaining about them, not one bit, but he wanted to see if he could make you all sweet and mushy like everyone else did.

There’s been a few times he’s caught you staring but you never back down, never look embarrassed to have been watching him and he wonders if you were staring so hard to put a curse on his bloodline or something! He wouldn’t mind if you were, the feel of your eyes on him somewhat satiate the craving he has for you.

He’s thinking about you again, just like always. In fact he’s so deep in thought, leaned forward letting his chin rest in his palm that for once he doesn’t notice you come up behind him.

He wishes he would have noticed you because then maybe he could have prepared himself to talk you and then maybe he wouldn’t have fucked everything up the way he did. Maybe it would’ve gone differently and ended without you in tears and him feeling the world's biggest douche bag.

“Dreamin’ about me, Harrington?”

“Aren’t I always.” He meant for it to come out teasing—but it didn’t. Now you were staring at him and he was staring out the window, the tips of his ears burning and he wished he could swallow his own tongue.

“Anyways, any chance you’ll cover my shift this Friday?”

“Why? Where are you going?” Full on pouting now he finally met your gaze. You never missed a shift, in fact you were the only one that anyone could count on to pick up extra shifts.

“Who are you, my daddy?”

His fingers twitched on the counter in front of him and neither of you missed the way his throat bobbed. Jesus Christ you made him crazy. “If you must know, I have a date and Friday is the only day that works.”

Wait—what? You had a date? With someone who was not him. Based on the way his heart dropped to his ass, he realized he might want far more than just your attention. His throat clogged as he looked at you, waiting as patiently as possible for his answer but fuck a date? You’d never gone on one as long as he’d known you—well that he knew of.

“But…you don’t go on dates.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Oh he was fucked now. He’d opened his big mouth and pissed you off—not in the way he’d liked either. “Well I just, I just meant I’ve never seen anyone ask yo—I didn’t think anyone…or you…I’ve never seen you go on one so I just figured you didn’t.” His foot could not get any further down his throat. He was fucking this up royally, but he was flustered! The pretty girl he liked was going out with someone, god knows who, and his feelings were a little hurt, even if he didn’t have the right!

“Forget it.” Any amusement you’d held towards him vanished, something else passed over you that he recognized as hurt and then anger. Lots of anger.

“Wait! M’sorry, I didn’t mean it like tha—”

“No you wait, Harrington. I don’t care what you think or what you think you know, it’s none of your business. I didn’t ask for you to question whether it was possible someone could like me enough to take me out, I asked if you’d cover my shift. Which—by the way—is not a big ask considering I cover your ass at least two times a week! But forget it, asshole, I’m sure my date was a fluke anyways, right?”

Before he could apologize or even blink you’d stormed away, slamming the break room door behind you. Shit he was an idiot! A huge, massive, blubbering idiot who’d made you more mad than he’d ever seen. His words got all jumbled around you anyways let alone when he was jealous over someone else getting to take you out.

He’d fucked up big time and was just sure you were cursing his bloodline now.

*********************************

Big, angry tears rolled down your cheeks in the employee bathroom you’d locked yourself in for the last twenty minutes. You were pissed, livid even, but more than that you were hurt. Which was only making you more mad, because why the hell did Steve Harrington have the power to hurt your feelings! He wasn’t anyone to you but a coworker, maybe an acquaintance, and yet here you were crying in the bathroom at work because he…what? Didn’t think you were pretty enough or cool enough or—whatever he fuckin’ thought—to date?

Okay, sure he didn’t say that exactly, but how else were you supposed to take his blubbering. And yeah, for the most part you were quiet and reserved and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have feelings for godsake.

At the end of the day Steve was a guy, a cute guy that you’d admired for his beauty and wouldn’t deny that he was overall sweet and kind, and you were a girl, a girl who apparently was not meant for dates.

And that hurts your feelings more than you’d care to admit.

A knock on the door had you wiping at your cheeks furiously, though at this point nothing would be able to hide your red cheeks and swollen eyes. “Who is it?” You cringed at how your voice sounded cracked and whiny.

“It’s Robin,” Oh thank god. Thank fucking god it wasn’t Steve. “Dingus is out here looking like he’s about to have a meltdown but won’t tell me what’s up, just said you were back here and that I should come check on you.”

Taking a deep breath you pulled the door open just enough for Robin to slip in, quickly closing it back behind her and trying not to let your bottom lip tremble when she turned to look at you and gasped. You weren’t even a crier! What was going on!

“Woa—shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Are you okay? What happened? Did they get Steve too, he seriously looks two seconds away from curling up on the floor.” Hands immediately covering your face you sigh, willing no more tears to fall until you can get out of here and into your own bed.

“It’s not, I just—I really don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay? Do you think you could start early and cover the rest of my shift? I promise I’ll make it up to you I just…Rob I just need to go home.”

“Of course I can, are you crazy? There’s nothing to make up. Go! I’ll tell Harrington you’re not feeling well and he’s stuck with me for the rest of the night,” giving you a reassuring squeeze as you gathered your things you’d grabbed on the way in here you gave her what you hoped came off as a thankful smile, “and when—if—you wanna talk about this, I’m here. Just so you know. I can listen sometimes despite what they all say.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand and giving yourself one last look in the mirror, grimacing at the utter mess you saw staring back at you. Hiking your bag on your shoulder you fled the safety of the bathroom and all but ran to the door.

Steve was with a customer, the polite smile he had on his face completely wiped off when he caught a glimpse at your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You didn’t spare him one look, practically running for the door without uttering a word in his direction.

God he felt like a piece of shit. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen you upset, let alone crying. He’d fucked up bad and didn’t know how to fix it when he’s sure you wouldn’t give him the time of day now.

He’d have to find a way to make this better, the pit in his stomach growing when he thought of you being upset—hurt—because of him.

He stood there staring at the door until Robin came up beside him, a concerned look on her face as she studied him. “Did she say what happened?”

“No, she didn’t. Just said she needed to go home and didn’t want to talk about it. I’ve never seen her so upset though, I’m worried.”

He was thankful she didn’t call him out for his bullshit. It was obvious whatever happened had been between the two of you and he didn’t think he couldn’t take Robin ripping into him right now, even if he deserved it.

“Yeah, me too.” And fuck he was.

*************************************

3 days since Steve had made you cry. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt because if you were being honest with yourself, maybe there was a small, teeny tiny part of you that grew fond of Steve. Steve with his goofy smile and bashful grin when he’d tell you stupid jokes.

It was one thing to be hurt because he’d been a jerk, but now you were dealing with feelings you didn’t want. You’d been hurt because you liked Steve and hearing him say…well you guess he didn’t say much, just stumbled his way through some sentences that all started pretty shitty, your feelings were all twisted up that he viewed you a certain way.

But instead of thinking too hard about these newfound feelings you had, you chose to ignore it completely. Obviously! You didn’t have the time or energy to worry about what Steve Harrington thought of you, especially when you glance at the clock on your nightstand and shit you’re gonna be late for work!

This is your first shift in 3 days and your stomach turns because you know you’ll be working with Steve. It also happened to be Friday, the day of your date that you had canceled in a fit of hurt and anger when you got home from your last shift. But based on how that jackass you couldn’t even remember the name of took it, you’d dodged a bullet.

You’re pulling into Family Video before you know it, dread washing over you and it doesn’t help that the humid summer heat as your bare thighs sticking to your seat, it only adds to your frustration. You make no move to actually get out, but you know you can’t afford to miss a shift or risk this job so you get it over with, pulling yourself out and walking in before you say fuck it and head back home.

Walking through the front doors you see him immediately, standing behind the counter with worry etched between his brows and a small frown on his face. He looks like a kicked puppy, staring you down as if you’ve wronged him.

“You’re late.”

You stiffen, spine straightening at his words and a string of curses are on the tip of your tongue, ready to lash out at him because how dare he. But before you get the chance he’s speaking again, effectively cutting off the tyrade you had going on your head.

“And that’s fine, totally fine! You’re just never late so I was worried, but then again I know today’s Friday so I wasn’t sure if you’d be showing up at all…I didn’t get the chance to tell you the other day I’d already told Robin I’d cover her shift today but I talked to the boss and if you need to go you can, I can manage one night by myself, I swear!”

You didn’t answer him, walking past and heading to the break room to hang up your things and try and mentally prepare for what was sure to be the longest shift of your life. The only thing you had going for you was that it was a Friday night, so hopefully you’d be busy and not have time to stress over being stuck with Steve.

When you come back out he’s standing in the same spot you left him, staring around like a lost little kid waiting for someone to give him direction. Well you won't be doing it tonight. Wordlessly you take a seat on the stool, trying your best to ignore his stare burning into the side of your face. You’d snap at him if you didn’t think you’d have a meltdown.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? I know you said tonight was the only night that would work for your date and I swear to you I can handle it. The place’ll still be standing tomorrow.”

Maybe you should go. You could go home and lay in your bed and wallow some more, eat some ice cream and try and forget the past week had ever happened. But you couldn’t. You needed the money and you certainly weren’t gonna hide from Steve when he’s the one that fucked up. So with all the courage you can muster you turn to him, doing your best to give a blank face so he can’t see the hurt brewing behind your eyes.

“No, Harrington. I don’t go on dates, remember?”

**************************************

Steve watches you turn away from him and fuck, okay he deserved that. He was a major asshole who had spent the last 3 days trying and failing to figure out how to get you to forgive him.

Then you walk in looking so pretty that for a second he forgets that you’re mad at him, that he had fucked up. But then he sees your eyes and they look sad, detached and that kills him all over again.

If he thought you might have disliked him before then he had no idea how good he had it! He’d give anything for you to smirk at him, to call him an idiot or to roll your eyes and pretend like you didn’t care when he rambled on, even though he could tell you did care, your eyes always gave you away.

“Can I please just—”

“No.”

“Please, I’m begging for you to just—”

“No, Steve.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Goddamnit please just let me at least try and explain myself a little bit. I know I don’t deserve it but I hurt you and I never, ever wanted to do that. Please. 5 minutes, honey. Please.”

He thinks he’s shocked you, eyes widening the tiniest bit before you shrug at him, casting a quick look his way before you turn back around and face away from him.

“I’m listening.”

Doing your best to ignore the fact that he just called you honey, he’s never done that, you turn to him and shrug, trying to act indifferent but on the inside you’re dying to know what he has to say. You want to know what he really thinks even though it goes against everything you’ve ever thought or stood for.

Jesus Christ you were the pathetic one, hoping for the reassurance of King Steve. Highschool you would absolutely kick your ass if she could see you now.

“I’m not…good at sorting my thoughts, especially around you and the shit I said the other day came out so wrong, so not how I meant it and I just—fuck I’m sorry. I never want you to be sad or hurt because of me…or anything at all,” He didn’t even know how to properly say anything without it coming out that he just liked you so much it made him a fool! “I was not trying to suggest people didn’t want to take you out, that came out all wrong. I’m sure there’s a line of people just waiting for you to give them a chance,” I would know, I’m front and center. “But I was just surprised because I hadn’t ever heard you talk about going on dates so I guess I just assumed…I don’t know. I’m an idiot who was also maybe just a little jealous and fuck it’s not even my business what you do! The point is that I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings, it was never my intention.”

It had been a few minutes with neither of you saying anything, the store empty and only the buzz of the crappy ac could be heard around you as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness? I’ll do it, I swear. I hate you being upset with me, it fuckin’ sucks.” He couldn’t help it, his skin was crawling the longer you stayed quiet and he thinks he’d do anything to get you to not look so sad.

He hears a small huff from you and if he was looking he’d have seen it was a small laugh of disbelief. “I may be mean but I’m not cruel, Harrington. I wouldn’t make you get on your knees on this floor.”

Relief flooded through him and despite the humidity swirling around in the air he swore he felt cooler, lighter than he did before. “Does this mean I’m off your shit list then?”

Your laugh was loud this time and he felt his chest swell with pride that he had been the one to cause it, even if he hadn’t meant to.

“What makes you so sure I have a shit list?”

“Oh come on, you definitely do.” Things felt somewhat normal again and it eased the ache in his chest that had lived there for 3 long days. Maybe this whole thing would make you guys even closer, actually make you friends.

“Alright, maybe I do. And you’re definitely on it, but not because of what happened,” He found himself smiling at you and if he looked close enough he swore he saw a ghost of a smile on your lips before you wiped it away with the back of your hand, “but about the other day, I…you did hurt my feelings. I know, it’s shocking I have them but every once in a while I’m reminded I’m just like the rest of you, unfortunately. Look, I’ve worked with you a while and you’re sweet, Steve. You’re a good guy and when you were saying those things…I know you didn’t mean it the way it came out, but it made me feel..fuck I hate this shit. It made me feel like you thought I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or some shit like that and it just…it fucked with me, okay? But I know you’d never be cruel like that so I forgive you. We’ll forget this happened so I don’t have to talk about my feelings anymore and we’ll be good. We are good. Fuck I’ll even admit we’re friends if we can not talk about this ever again.”

“You think I don’t think you’re pretty or good enough?” That was all his brain could think of. How the fuck could you think that? Had he not been obvious? He all but drooled over you every time you were in his line of sight.

“Really, Steve? That’s all you got! I just said we were friends. I'd thought you’d be over the moon.” Your eyes were looking everywhere but him and he knew you were trying to deflect. You’d just been vulnerable with him and he should move on but he couldn’t stomach you thinking you weren’t good enough or pretty enough, let alone thinking that he thought those things!

“Honey, I’d be lucky even if you even gave me a second glance. Good enough? You’re too good for me and every other sorry prick in this town. I fuckin’ swear it. I was caught off guard and jealous. Jealous that someone else had gotten you to give them the time of day!” You looked stunned but he kept going, “And I can give you all the dirty details about how pretty you are. How I spend all day practically getting paid to stare at you, what a job! How I’ve memorized every little detail of your pretty face, how I stare a little too long when you’re bent over in front of me. Or how I think about your cute little mouth wrapped around that blow pop and wish it was my—”

“Steve Harrington!” You’d slapped your palm over his mouth to shut him up and if he wasn’t enjoying how squirmy you suddenly were he’d nip at your palm to make you jump. It was nice seeing you all red faced and hot because of him for a change, even though he loved it when it was the other way around.

Maybe he’d said too much, let his filter slip a little too far but he wanted—no needed for you to know how perfect you were. Not just to him but to anyone with common sense.

Pulling your palm away he opened his mouth but you shot him a glare as he did, as if you could sense he was going to do it. He watched as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and cleared your throat bringing your weary eyes to meet his.

“Smacking me around now?” He was a little shit, he knew it but he was sure you liked it anyway.

“You love it.” And shit, you’d got him there. He’d let you do anything you wanted to him with a smile on his face and his heart happy. But just because he’d made you feel better didn’t mean the hurt just went away and he’d do whatever it took to fix it.

“Caught me,” He threw you a wink that you ignored, rolling your eyes at him, “but seriously, there’s not one thing wrong with you and I’m sorry that I made you feel any different. I’m a dick. I’ll tell you till I’m blue in the face how pretty you are if that’s what it takes.”

“Oh no, I’ve heard plenty, you perv. Now I know why you’re so quiet when I’m reorganizing the bottom shelves, you’re staring at my ass!” He shrugged at you sheepishly, not being near as embarrassed as he should be for admitting that.

“But…thank you, Steve. This was just a misunderstanding that you’ve more than cleared up. We’re good, Harrington. I’m good.” And the relief he felt was seen on his face and felt throughout his body. He could’ve used the moment to be sweet, dragging out the conversation but you still looked a little uneasy about opening up to him so he thought it better to go back to territory you were comfortable with, him annoying you.

“Oh I know we’re good! We’re friends now, remember? Don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it.”

*************************************

Things between you and Steve had been…good.

There was a bit of tension between you, the kind that made your throat dry when you looked at him and your thighs clench when he whispered something in your ear if customers were around and he didn’t want them to hear. Maybe it was from the things he admitted or maybe it was because you were suddenly much more aware of Steve.

You’d had your talk, if you could call it that, a few weeks ago and the time you’ve spent together since then had been mostly normal. Steve, getting on your nerves, rambling about nothing for as long as you’d let him, looking at you with those pitiful puppy dog eyes when you gave him some attention. You, teasing him relentlessly, even more now than before. Covering for him less, he’d been showing up on time almost every shift you had together. Bending over in front of him more just to hear him curse and see his cheeks flush.

And maybe kind of developing a crush on him.

It’s not your fault, it’s his! How were you supposed to resist him after he said he’d be lucky to go out with you, after he told you he’d been jealous someone else was, after he told you how pretty you were and how he thought about your mouth wrapped around his—

Fuck—no, you were not going down that road again. Every time you thought about what he said, how genuine and needy he seemed when he talked about you, your head got all fuzzy and your knees threatened to give out. It was all you could do not to pounce on him the second the words left his mouth.

So yeah, you had a big fat crush on Steve Harrington.

He’d also taken your comment about being friends to heart, bringing it up every chance he got and using it as an excuse for the two of you to spend even more time together. You’d walk in Family Video and he’d flash you that smile, opening his arms for a hug you pretended to hate but in reality looked forward to every day.

“Hello, friend.”

“As your friend I have to tell you how pretty you look today.”

“C’mon friend, come to this party with me. It’ll be lame without you.”

You’d threatened to revoke his “friend” privileges and he’d gasped, clutching his chest dramatically and pretending to stumble to the floor. It took everything in you not to giggle at his antics. You were quickly becoming obsessed with Steve, and even more obsessed with how quick you could get him to turn into a puddle at your feet.

That was how you find yourself here at the Hawkins public pool with your bag strap digging uncomfortably into your shoulder and sweat dripping down your back, wearing what you’d bet was a grimace as you walked around the scattered chairs looking for Steve.

One thing that remained constant and strong was the mid summer heat that took your breath away and put you in a less than pleasant mood most of the time. Poor Steve got the brunt of your frustration but he never complained. And that’s why you finally agreed to come to the pool with him, because he was sweet and patient and adorable, even when he was annoying the shit out of you.

What you didn’t account for was the added heat you’d endure from seeing Steve shirtless before you, arms crossed over his chest and pale pink swim trunks sitting on his hips.

When did Steve Harrington get chest hair and why was your mouth watering over it? It made him look sexy, older in a way that erased all boyish features you’d come to love. He looked…fuck he looked hot. His hair was slicked back and you knew he’d already gotten in, too impatient to wait for the 10 minutes longer it had taken you to get here. He had a trail of hair on his lower belly that ran down under the band of his swim trunks and you think you might have actually let out a whimper at the sight.

You took a step toward him and cursed yourself when your legs wobbled a little bit. If he saw it he didn’t say anything, righting yourself quickly and making your way over so you could toss your bag into his waiting arms, trying not to look at the patch of chest hair just inches from your face and failing miserably.

“My own personal pool boy, a girl could get used to this.”

It didn’t take long to figure out that the easiest and quickest way to get yourself together was to turn it on him, to make his hands twitch and his stomach clench and to tease him until he was panting like a puppy.

“At your service, ma’am.”

Grabbing your arm he tugged you to the chairs he’d saved for the two of you, a cooler sitting between them with the lunch he’d made for the both of you. It makes your heart skip a beat and your tummy flutters. Your sweet Stevie.

He sat your bag down between the chairs, laying back so his arms were stretched back and crossed behind his head, a twinge in your stomach tightening as you watched him stretch out before you. A fucking Greek god. You needed to even the playing field and you needed to do it now.

Grabbing the sunscreen from your bag you put on the sweetest smile you could conjure while your body screamed at you to straddle his thighs and kiss him dumb. “Stevie, can you help me out with this?” He nodded without thought, that’s just how kind he was, sitting up to grab the bottle from your hands.

Before he could make a move to get up you knocked his legs apart, pushing yourself down and back so that you were wedged between his thighs, your back almost completely pressed against his front.

He cursed behind you, trying to scoot back but your hands dug into his thighs to keep him there, a silent plea. You’re sure if you could see his face he’d look almost pained at the feeling of your skin pressed to his.

You heard him flip the cap open and squeeze some sunscreen in his hand, neither of you saying anything for a moment before he leaned forward, his lips almost touching the shell of your ear when he spoke, “s’gonna be cold.” You nodded wordlessly and straightened up a little, pushing back further into him.

“Fuck.” You didn’t mean for it to slip out and hoped you could blame it on the cold lotion hitting your back, but you knew that was a lie. Steve’s big, calloused hands on your shoulders and back had you holding back whines and moans threatening to climb up your throat. Jesus Christ this felt good, too good.

Any composure you had left flew out the window at his next move and you were quickly falling behind in the one sided game you’d started with him.

You felt his hands move down lower to where the string of your bikini tied in the back, your thighs clenching hard when he slid them toward the front, following the line of your top and just barely slipping under the cup of your breast to tease the skin there before he was pulling back and going to your shoulders again.

Holy fuck.

He tensed behind you when your fingers dug harder into his thighs, but you didn’t even mean to. It was just a knee jerk reaction to his fingers gliding over the underside of your boob for Christ's sake. It wasn’t until you leaned back just a little, totally innocent you were just readjusting, that you felt it.

Steve was hard. His swimsuit did a shit job of concealing it. And he was pressed up against you so tightly you could feel him throb against your lower back when you gasped. This was your opportunity to one up him, to move ahead a few spaces.

Head turning to the side just slightly so he was in your peripheral, you needed to make sure he was looking and listening. You spoke as if you weren’t dripping wet yourself, thighs sore from how hard you’d been squeezing them together.

“Poor baby, touching my shoulders and grazing a pair of tits has you all needy, huh?”

He whined low in his throat, leaning forward to press his forehead against your back. You could feel little puffs of air against your skin as he tried to compose himself, not that you’d let him.

“Stop. Don’t be mean.” The words were whispered against your skin and you smiled.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean. Gets you hard, doesn't it, when I tease you?” You were being mean, so mean, but if the way he subtly tried to buck up against you was indication of how he felt, he loved it.

You kept going, basking in the feeling of his hands grilling your hips tight and his breathing against your back was getting faster the more you talked.

“You really are like a puppy. It’s just so fucking cute how whiny you get when you’re like this.”

Both of you stilled when a whimper slipped out a little too loud and all of a sudden you remembered where you were, a fucking public pool. Steve must have realized too because he pulled back, scooting far enough away that you weren’t touching anymore and you hated how you already missed the feel of his skin on yours.

Clearing your throat you shuffled over to the other chair, glancing at Steve to see his mouth shut and eyes looking anywhere but you. Maybe you’d gone too far. You opened your mouth to apologize but before you could he was up and tugging you to the edge of the pool, jumping in and practically dragging you in with him.

The cool water actually did a good job of cooling you down, physically and mentally. When you broke the surface, gasping for air, Steve was already there looking at you. You couldn’t read the look on his face, couldn’t tell if he was upset with you so you bit the bullet.

“M’sorry if I went too far, Steve. It’s just…you were…the sunscreen—you were making me feel crazy so I wanted to even it up. I shouldn’t have done that though, especially not here. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

For the first time since you came up from the water he broke his stare, opting to look around you before he came closer, pulling you in so no one would hear your conversation.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m not. I only pulled away because I was seconds from cumming in my shorts like a teenage boy and I was embarrassed.”

Lips pulling into a smile you covered your mouth and he pouted at you, huffing like a child when he saw you trying not to laugh at him. “No need to be embarrassed, Stevie. You can’t help that you’re a needy little thing.”

His hand swatted at yours that had come up to pinch his cheeks and you cooed at him to tease him further. “So mean.” He tried to look annoyed but failed and it made your stomach dip at how pretty he looked, drops of water falling off his lashes, lashes you and every girl in Hawkins would kill for.

“You really are pretty, Harrington.” The tips of his ears burned bright red and he moved toward you instinctively, like he wanted to kiss you. God did you want to kiss him. But you didn’t want to do it in a public place where you wouldn’t be able to make a mess of him after so you pulled back and splashed some water in his face with a giggle.

“C’mon big boy, let’s swim! I didn't come all this way just to stare at your cute face.”

Although you wouldn’t mind it.

*******************************************

The next few weeks are quiet, work goes by painfully slow when you’re not with Steve and you hate it. Your shifts with Steve are filled with teasing touches and flushed cheeks and very little work.

You’ve also been spending a good chunk of the time you’re not at work with Steve as well. He somehow almost always convinces you to come over to watch a movie or go with him for a late night ice cream run. You find yourself in his car or playing with his hair while you lay in your bed more often than not.

And you love it.

Trying to act like you weren’t obsessed with him was exhausting so you mostly gave it up. You’d smile at him more, laugh at his jokes more freely, and have become much more touchy with him.

Neither of you could seem to keep your hands off each other if you were in the same room. He always had to have a hand on your hip or one holding your thigh and you couldn’t keep your fingers from rubbing at his neck or slipping through his hair if he was close.

There hadn’t been a conversation about what was happening, but neither of you seemed to mind. You think that you’d become best friends who were just crazy about each other and that was enough for both of you.

Until it wasn’t.

If you were being fair, you knew that technically you and Steve hadn’t officially become exclusive or anything. The two of you probably weren’t even dating, even though you spent all your time together. Cuddling and teasing constantly.

But you weren’t fair. Everyone who spent any amount of time in a public setting knew that you and Steve were, for lack of a better word, an item. If someone saw you at the grocery store or at the post office, or anywhere, it was a safe bet that Steve was two paces behind you if he wasn’t already at your hip.

This was common knowledge. Or at least you thought it was. So it’s a surprise, a bad one at that, when you come back from your break with a smile on your face that is quickly wiped away when you see some blonde you went to school with hanging over the counter with her tits pushed at Steve, a devious smile on her face as she bats her eyelashes at him.

All the blood rushes from your body and you’re not sure you can even keep down the sandwich you’d had for lunch. A sandwich that Steve had made for you, might you add. There’s a horrible twist in your belly and you’ve never felt such rage as you have looking at the way she toys with the collar of his shirt between her fingers and at the way he gives her a small smile and doesn’t pull away.

You were jealous. So jealous it took the breath right out of you and made your brain go blank. One minute you’re standing there with your skin hot and heart pounding and the next you’re sliding back into your seat beside Steve with a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

“Need help with anything or are you just gonna keep groping the staff?” If your glare was sharp your words were sharper, serious and stern and directed at the girl who was still touching Steve, your Steve.

Both the girl and Steve’s eyes widen at your tone. She finally takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again. You see the way Steve’s staring at you but you don’t look at him, you can’t or you might do something crazy like hit this girl, or even worse, cry.

Once the initial embarrassment from your words wears off she straightens her back and narrows her eyes in your direction. “I think we had it handled, sweetie. Your coworker here,” You flinch at the way she emphasizes coworker and feel yourself shrink a little, “was just giving me some movie recommendations. But thanks for the offer.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” The words taste bitter on your tongue and you want to slap the smirk off her face so bad your palm twitches. Steve is quiet beside you and you can’t even begin to process how that adds to your fury, to the pain that’s bubbling up beneath your skin and threatening to spill out.

You’ve taken one, maybe two steps away from the counter, ready to go back to the bathroom of shame and cry again over Steve fucking Harrington when a hand on your wrist stops you.

The same hand, the one that belongs to the boy you’ve become enamored with, tugs you gently back to his side, hand leaving you for just a second so he can wrap his arm around your waist and tug you into his side. Your hips are touching and you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the pain and anger dissolving while his hand grips you tightly against him.

A sick satisfaction runs through you as you watch the way her jaw clenches and her eyes dim as his arm curls around you. Coworker my ass. Steve clears his throat beside you, catching yours and her attention, “I’m afraid I’m all out of recommendations for you, but maybe my coworker here has some for you.” Before she can even think about speaking you cut her off with a faux pout, “I don’t think I do, sorry!”

Deciding Steve isn’t worth the battle you’re more than willing to start, what an idiot, she turns around and pretends to look through the new releases for all of five seconds before she’s scurrying out of the store and leaving you both alone again.

Steve gives one last squeeze to your hip before he moves to sit back down, the reality of your little outburst smacking you in the face. Well, this is awkward. You sit down on your stool, tapping your hands on the counter while you try and gather the courage to look at him.

You hope he’s not upset with you and if he is well…fuck him! Just because you haven’t said it out loud doesn’t mean he’s not yours. You know for a fact if he caught you flirting with a guy he’d be pissed! All whiny and pouty and pawing at you for attention. So you were justified in being upset, totally and fully justified.

Now you’ve worked yourself up to tell him off and give him a piece of your mind, and you turn to him to do just that when it all slips away in an instant. Because Steve isn’t upset, no, he’s staring at you with wide, bright eyes and a smirk so big and knowing you curse yourself in your head.

Oh this is even worse! Now you’ve given him a big head, bigger than he already had!

“So that was…interesting.” You can hear the amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. You much prefer him all pathetic and whiny over this…cocky Steve. But really you don’t mind this either.

“Shut it, Harrington.” You think if you weren’t so obsessed with him you’d have the decency to be even a little embarrassed at how you acted but you aren’t! You practically marked your territory in front of her and you can’t find it in you to care or regret it.

“You were jealous. Over me! I’ll never shut up about this! I’m taking a spot in the paper for this, alerting the press as we speak!” His bottom lip between his teeth and he looked giddy like it was Christmas morning and he’d gotten the brand new shiny bicycle he’d spent all year wishing for.

You could have denied it, but what was the point in that? Everyone already knew anyway how you felt, you weren’t exactly subtle about it. Might as well embrace it at this point.

“And so what if I was? Figure you’re mine anyways, right?” Your cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink as you watch him take in your words, his eyes a little wide and a small shy smile on his lips.

“I am?”

God okay, maybe you hadn’t been as obvious as you thought the last months.

“Well…I thought so. You take up all my time anyways, Harrington, might as well. Plus I like you—well a lot. I’m yours too, ya know. If you want I guess, I don’t know, I thought this was just unspoken between us and now you’re making me nervous!”

His lips parted in what could either be shock or awe, you weren’t sure. He didn’t look appalled at the idea so that was a good sign, right?

“I’m sorry I just…sometimes I’m not even sure you like me all that much so I’m just a little shocked but yes! Fuck—yes I’ll be whatever you want.”

Maybe he was a little dumb or maybe you weren’t as good at showing your feelings as you thought but either way you’d make sure he felt wanted, needed by you.

“Steve, if I didn’t like you I promise I would not be spending all my time with you. I’m mean sometimes because you like it and I like seeing you all messy and cute. M’kinda obsessed with you, you idiot.”

His grin widened, dimples popping out and your heart sped up at the sight. He was pretty, so pretty and despite how you acted sometimes you felt so lucky that he even wanted to spend any time with you, let alone all of it. Steve Harrington had wiggled his way deep into your heart and your brain and you think your life would be dull without him.

“I’d ask you to pinch me but I know you’ll make it hurt,” Your hand reached out automatically towards his thigh and he swatted you away with an eye roll, “I’m obsessed with you too, have been for months. Since the first day you started actually. Want you to be my girl, wanna be yours too.”

Leaning forward you pressed a quick peck to the corner of his mouth and you felt his head turn, trying to catch your lips. He wouldn’t get off the hook that easily, it took no effort to remember how it felt to see that girl's hands all over him. Even if it wasn’t his fault you don’t think he’d mind paying for it anyways. Add on the cocky grin he had earlier when he realized you were jealous and all of a sudden you had big plans for Steve Harrington, plans that made your thighs clench and had you pulsing around nothing.

You cooed at him, pulling back just in time to see his brows furrowed and a cute little pout working its way on his lips. He had no idea what was coming to him and you couldn’t want to see how sorry he would be.

“Patience is key, baby.”

*****************************************

It was a week later when it all clicked for Steve.

A week of teasing touches and sneaky glances his way, even when people were looking. You’d leave a kiss on his cheek or the corner of his mouth or on the side of his neck right right under his ear. He was going crazy, body leaning forward subconsciously anytime you were near him.

You’ve barely let him touch you and at first he was worried but you’d whisper in his ear about “payback” for making you jealous and while he was nervous, now he was just excited. And impatient, wanting and begging for you to just do it already. He couldn’t take much more teasing, his cock had been aching for what felt like forever and no matter how many times he found himself in bed, stroking himself to the thought of you, it wouldn’t ever be enough.

He thinks you’ve finally decided to put him out of his misery, calling him earlier to ask if you could come over, that you had a special surprise that was just for him. He’d agreed without hesitation, telling you to come over whenever you wanted and that he’d be waiting for you. His parents weren’t around this weekend so he didn’t have to worry about them and he was thanking god for that.

It had been 4 hours and 37 minutes since you called, not that he’d been counting, when he heard a knock at his door that had him all but jumping over the couch and sprinting for the front door. He practically ripped it open, grinning wide as he took you in with dreamy eyes and his stomach twisted in knots.

You were wearing a sundress that reached about mid thigh and he had to hold himself upright with the door at the sight of your bare legs, tan and smooth and fuck he just needed to bite at the skin between your thighs. The dress had little strawberries printed all over and he’d bet money that you tasted just as sweet as the fruit. His mouth watered at the sight of your full lips all glossy with whatever you’d put on them and it took everything in him not to lean forward and suck your bottom lip into his mouth.

He didn’t realize he had been standing there just staring until you cleared your throat, a knowing smirk on your lips as he shook his head to clear him from the daze you’d put him in. “S’pretty, you’re so pretty.” His voice was quiet and he wasn’t sure if he meant for you to hear or if he was just talking to himself.

“Thank you, handsome. Can I come in or do I need to stand on the porch with you eye-fucking me all night?” He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to your crassness, even though he wasn’t complaining about it. He loved that you spoke your mind, no matter how dirty, and hoped what one day he’d be comfortable doing that too.

“Right, right, yes come in,” Pulling the door open he stepped to the side so you could come in, knees wobbling when he caught a whiff of your perfume as you passed, “Are you hungry? I can…order something. I don’t have much to cool but maybe I could run to the store real quick?”

He heard your muffled giggle as you walked through the house in front of him, hips swaying as you walked and he felt his cock twitch in his pants just looking at you.

“Just hungry for you, Stevie.”

You were teasing, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure you weren’t serious by the way you eyed him over your shoulder like he was your prey. And fuck did he want to be. He’d crawl around on the floor if you asked.

By the time he followed your trail and made it through the living room you were at the foot of the stairs, lip between your teeth and hands together behind your back all innocent. You both knew better than to believe that.

“Can I see your room?” Fuck this was happening. He nodded at you, grabbing your small hand with his and relishing in the way it felt to hold you. He led you up the stairs and was careful not to go too fast, to seem too eager. He knows you’d tease him for being so excited but based on the look in your eyes he thought that maybe you were pretty excited too.

Pushing his door open he watched as you took in his room, eyes light as you scanned over the posters he’d hung haphazardly, some artwork the kids had drawn for him hanging above his desk. His bed was unmade and he cursed himself, as if you’d care.

“Looks exactly how I pictured it.”

“You pictured my room?”

“Maybe.”

He stood still, leaning up against the door he’d closed and locked behind him as you made your way around, lifting up papers and magazines, humming quietly to yourself. You must have been a witch or something the way he’d become so entranced with you, following your every move like he wasn’t meant to do anything else.

So when you turn around to face him quickly, he’s startled, eyes shooting up to meet yours like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner.

“Alright then, on the bed.”

The flurry of questions he has does little to deter him as he scrambles past you and pushes on the bed a little too quickly. He falls forward face first and hears you snicker behind him. He’s not sure where you want him so he hopes he’s right. He scoots back, flush against the wall, the headboard on his left and foot of the bed on his right.

“You want this, Harrington? I’m not misreading anything, right?”

He’s shaking his head furiously, eyes wide and mouth closed as he watches for your next move.

“Oh now you have nothing to say? Months of knowing you and you’re hardly ever quiet. Use your words, big boy.”

��Y-yes, I want this. Whatever you want.”

The smile you reward him with makes his chest ache and the blood rush through him so fast he can hear it pounding in his ears. He thinks he wants you looking like that all the time, proud and pleased with him.

“Good! It’s time for payback then.”

**********************************************

You really really hoped your nerves didn’t show on your face as you stood in front of Steve. You don’t think he’d notice even if they did, eyes glazed over as he waited for whatever you had planned.

Now at this point you were over the whole jealousy thing from last week, really you were! But you played into it a little extra just so you could be mean to him right now. Although with the plans you had, you’d be being mean to him and yourself.

Wordlessly you reached down, fingers toying with the hem of your dress and you watched as Steve’s eyes tracked the movement, throat bobbing slightly as you lifted it a few inches before letting it drop back down.

This only lasted for a few minutes before you’d had enough, gripping your dress and almost ripping it over your head and letting it drop to your feet. What you hadn’t mentioned was that you had nothing underneath it, absolutely nothing.

Steve drank you in, slack jawed with his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he moved from your face to your tits, staring at your already hard nipples that you would blame on the coolness in his room. His eyes moved down further and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made your clit throb under his stare.

Was that some drool leaking down to his chin?

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Can I?” You don’t think he even realized the words left his mouth and you fought the urge to laugh at how out of it he seemed already.

“Not tonight, baby.”

His hands fisted the sheets below him as the pet name slipped past your lips and you smiled sweetly at him. Pointing to the headboard you directed him with a quiet voice, “I’m gonna sit there,” moving your hand to point toward the foot of his bed he followed your finger eagerly, “and you’re gonna sit there, facing me.”

He obeyed instantly, shuffling toward where’d you directed him while you climbed onto the bed and and situated yourself against his headboard with your legs stretched out in front of you.

“Can I have your shirt?” It wasn’t anything special, a plain white t-shirt that hugged him beautifully, but you wanted it all the same. To have his smell surrounding you, covering you in him. He peeled it off so he was left in a pair of jeans that stuck to him in all the right places. Unsure of what to do he tossed it to you and you wasted no time in slipping it over your bare frame, pleased that it bunched at your hips just how you’d hoped.

You could see the disappointment in his face at the extra layer you’d added and you itched to lean forward and pinch his flushed cheeks in adoration. He was just so adorable it made you crazy. With everyone else he was strong and stern, the babysitter and protector and king of Hawkins.

But with you…with you he was soft and sweet, pliable in your hands like putty and you ate up every second of it.

****************************************

Steve thinks he might have gone to heaven, you sitting across from him in nothing but his shirt with your thighs on display.

His chest feels hot despite the cool air hitting his skin and he thinks if he doesn’t get his hands on you in the next three seconds something horrible might happen. You're giving him that teasing smile that makes his tummy clench and sends excitement zipping down his spine.

He still can’t believe you like him, that you’re obsessed with him. It’s like a dream come true and he thinks he’s pinched himself at least 17 times in the last week.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you call his name softly, head snapping up to meet yours and he feels dizzy all over again from how pretty you look.

“You’re gonna watch me, okay? No touching me or yourself until I say.” Wait—what? He gives you a nod and tries not to let his disappointment show in his face, and he knows he fails based on the way you smile and shake your head at him.

But any disappointment he had is gone in a flash when you lean back and spread your legs to give him a glimpse at just how much you like him. He might black out, he’s not sure. You’re glistening for him, a little bit of slick on your thighs and suddenly he’s starved. He audibly groans at the sight of you on display for him.

“She’s pretty—fuck so pretty.” He’s talking more to himself than you but he sees the way you twitch at him referring to your pussy as “her” and it makes him smile shyly, still not moving his eyes from where you’re dripping on his bed.

He watches closely as your hand trails down, rubbing over your thighs for just a second before you’re taking two fingers and spreading yourself open for him, both of you too impatient to drag this out too long. Before he can stop himself he’s moving forward, going to his knees and crawling across his bed that feels far too big all of a sudden. He doesn’t realize he’s moved until your legs are closed and one foot is pressed against his bare chest, stopping him from getting any closer.

One hand is holding him up and the other is holding onto your ankle as he pleads with his eyes for you to let him closer, just a taste, he just needs one little taste.

“We’ve just started and you’re already breaking the rules?” The faux disappointment in your tone makes him pout, leaning down to press a small kiss against your calf and he hears you chuckle at his attempt at distracting you.

“M’sorry, baby, you’re just so pretty, she’s so pretty. Let me have a taste, please? I’ll be good after that, I swear. Just one taste, honey.”

He watches in anticipation, hope is swelling in his chest as you study him and he can see the contemplation in your eyes as you take him in. He’s so close he can smell you and it lights his whole body up, cock so hard pressed up against his jeans he could cry.

“Hmm, no,” He hears the whine he makes but can’t be bothered to care, “what fun is payback if I give in before I’ve even touched myself! You can be patient, I know you can.” You have much more faith in him than he has in himself, body slumping in defeat before he’s moving back to where you directed him the first time.

“Can I at least take these jeans off? It hurts, baby.”

“Fine, but the boxers stay on, sneaky.” It takes him no time before he’s peeling his jeans off, sighing in relief when some of the pressure is released and he feels like he can breathe again.

Well he can breathe until you’re spreading your legs again, fingers slipping back down to tease at your clit as your eyes stay locked on him. His chest is tightening as he watches you. Watching the way your legs spread wider when you notice him fisting the sheets beside him. Watching the way your head falls back against his headboard when you move down to circle your messy hole, a moan so lewd coming from your mouth he feels a bead of precum drip down his cock.

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t decide if this was heaven or hell but he’s sure that either way he’d gladly spend an eternity here.

He’s torn between watching your face or watching your fingers in your cunt, eyes flickering between the two every few seconds so he didn’t miss something important. He remembers how you compare him to a puppy and he’s sure he’s never looked more like one than he does right now. He’s practically panting across from you and you’re the treat that would be making his tail wag—if he had one.

“Feels so good, Stevie. This is how wet I get just from thinking about you, ya know? Always have me messy and ready for you.”

“Please let me touch you. Fuck—please, sweetheart. Need it so bad, need you so bad. I’ll be good, I swear. Never make you jealous again. God I swear I’ll do anything.”

He knew you were getting close, thighs threatening to close on your hand and hips lifting from the bed eagerly. He could see it on your face too—you wanted to deny him, to torture him some more but he could see you giving in.

“You beg so pretty, Harrington. Fuck, get over here. Now.”

He didn't need to be told twice, launching himself across the bed and fitting himself between your thighs that had opened a little to accommodate his wide frame. He waited expectantly, and you smiled down at him fondly.

“You know, you really look like a—”

“A puppy, I know. So can I have my treat then?”

Nodding at him you swiped your fingers through your folds and held your hand out to him, fingers shiny with you and he opened his mouth quickly. His head moved forward and he took your fingers in his mouth, lapping his tongue around them greedily, determined not to waste a single drop. He hummed around them, eyes closed so he didn't see the way you were staring at him like he’d hung the moon.

“S’good then?” You sounded breathless above him and he could only nod, not wanting to drop your fingers from his mouth just yet. God, you tasted good. He’d compare you to a nice summer treat but the truth is you’d be perfect for any season, any day. Fuck he’d stay buried between your thighs 24/7 if you’d let him.

He finally pulled off just enough so that he could speak, “better than a blow pop.” The laugh that pulled from you made his heart warm. It was loud and genuine, shoulders shaking slightly as you grinned at him, teeth on display and everything.

It was quiet for a few minutes, you pressing your fingers down on his tongue and even though he’d cleaned them up, the taste of you lingered and he would gladly sit here with your fingers in his mouth for hours.

But you had other plans.

“Need your fingers, Stevie. They’re bigger than mine and I’m already close from watching you lap at my fingers like a little greedy puppy.” His eyes fell from yours, cheeks red and ears burning as you teased him.

“Can I use my mouth?”

“Mhm, not today. I already gave in way too quick, you were just too cute to say no to.” He wants to pout, to protest and beg but he thinks just watching you fall apart on his fingers will be more than enough for him.

You part your legs further as he slips down to rest his cheek against your inner thigh. His hair tickles the soft, sensitive skin there and you giggle. He moves just enough to press a quick, open mouthed kiss and dreams about the marks he hopes you’ll let him leave there one day.

With a nod from you he moves his eyes to your cunt, swollen and dripping, and runs his fingers over your clit just to feel your thigh twitch against his cheek. He wraps the hand he’s not using around your thigh, clutching it to him tightly as he eases two of his fingers into you. They slip in easily with no resistance and the feeling of your warm, hot walls snug on his fingers makes him grind his hips down into his bed.

“Shit—she feels good, hugging my fingers so tight.” Your hips buck up against his hand, urging him in deeper and he smiles against your leg. A groan slips out of him when your hand slips down to rub slow, loose circles on your clit, head rolling back so that all you can see is his eyes peeking up at you.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so hot in his entire life. He can see the little beads of sweat rolling down your forehead and how you’re panting and whining above him, especially when he curls his fingers upward and finds that spongy spot that has your mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing shut.

“There it is, yeah? That’s the spot?” You’re nodding quickly, fingers that were circling your clit are now sliding into his hair and gripping it tightly. The burn of it makes him moan against your thigh, the sting of your grip making his eyes roll back into his head almost.

“D-don’t you dare stop, Harrington. M’close, so so close.” He doesn’t think there is anything that could get him to stop. Not when you’re dripping down his hand and your thighs are shaking like they are.

The final straw is when he moves his mouth down a couple of inches, teeth scraping against the skin where your thighs almost touch and he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. He hears the thud of your head knocking against his headboard and the curse that flies out of your mouth as you clench down on him so hard you almost push his fingers out. He works you through it, licking over the mark he just left to soothe the sting and slowing down his fingers once you start to twitch and whine from the feeling.

It’s not until you're pushing his hand away and letting your legs slump that he takes a peek at you, a lazy smile on your face and hair sticking to your forehead where you’d been sweating. He knows there’s a widening grin on his face as he looks up at you, placing one last kiss before he’s sitting himself up so his legs are under yours and his hands are resting on the tops of your thighs.

“If that’s what you call payback then remind me to piss you off more often!”

You roll your eyes, letting your body fall back against his headboard, “Don’t get smart with me now, Harrington. Not when I’m about to make you cum. I would hate to change my mind.”

His ears perk up and honestly he hadn’t even thought about himself since he’d gotten between your thighs, content with watching you squirm and moan around his fingers. But he wasn’t gonna turn you down, hell no! Just the thought of you anywhere near his cock had him twitching in his boxers.

He closed his mouth, fingers coming up to mimic zipping a zipper of his lips and tossing the non existent key far behind him. You smirked at him, hand coming close to pat his cheek, almost like you’d pet his head.

“Good boy, now turn around and take those boxers off, please.”

********************************************

Holy shit. You didn’t think you'd ever cum so hard in your life. You swear you might have actually seen stars for a minute there when he curled his fingers just right. And when he bit you? How the hell did he know you had a thing for biting.

Keeping him at arm's length had been the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, especially when he was looking at you like you were a five course meal in front of him. He’d practically been salivating at the sight of you and it took everything in you not to give into him immediately.

But now that you’d cum, all you could think about was him. About finally getting your hand on his cock and listening to the way he’d gasp and whine with your hand around him. Just the thought was enough to send another wave of arousal and need over you, your toes curling and fingers digging into his bed.

He still hadn’t moved in front of you and you cocked your head at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly had that sad pout on his lips. “What’s the matter?”

His cheeks were red and he looked almost embarrassed as he tried to avoid eye contact with you and you worried you’d done something to upset him. Maybe this wasn’t as good for him, maybe he didn’t like you teasing him?

“S’just…you haven’t kissed me and I just—I wanna kiss you so bad but I didn’t know if there was a reason you hadn’t or maybe you just didn’t want to or—”

You cut him off, gripping his shoulders and pushing your lips against his that were swollen and slick with spit. He moaned against you, sighing and relaxing in your hold. Fuck—how had you not kissed him yet?

His tongue swiped against your bottom lip and you heard the little whine he let out when you didn’t let him in, laughing against his lips. He took the opportunity to move closer, hands moving to fist at your hair and you felt lightheaded from how good he felt, how sweet he tasted.

When you needed to breathe you regretfully pulled back, foreheads touching and noses bumping into one another as you both took big, greedy gulps of air. His eyes almost sparkled as he looked at you, a shy smirk on both your mouths.

“Better?”

“Perfect.” It was hard to ignore the way your heart thumped against your rib cage like it was trying to fight its way out. He was perfect. Everything about him and the way he carried himself drew you to him like a moth to a flame. Your mind was consumed with all things Steve.

And while you wanted to be mushy and sweet with him, one glance down between you had your mouth watering and fingers twitching at your sides. There was a dark wet patch on his blue boxers and the outline of his cock was prominent. You think you know why he was so cocky in high school now, he definitely had the goods to back it up.

“Kiss me whenever you want but if you don’t get your boxers off in the next 5 seconds I might do something crazy.”

Your words snapped him out of his post kiss haze and you laughed softly as he scrambled off the bed to pull his boxers down his legs and practically kick them across the room. You gulped at the sight of him, of his pretty and thick cock already leaking and shiny for you. You motioned him forward, eyes kind and soft as you spread your legs for him.

He smiled when you patted the space in front of you and he crawled back between your legs and shuffled so that he was sitting in front of you, his back pressed to your front, the material of his shirt clinging to his sweaty back. Your thighs stretched around his hips but you loved the slight burn it brought you. You laid back and brought him with you so that he was slumped against your chest, your feet hooked over his calves.

His hands were on either one of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there while his arms were loose at his sides. You took the opportunity to slip your hands under his arms, hands reaching up to run over his chest, tweaking one of his nipples on your way and watching the way his cock twitched where it was resting against his lower belly.

Steve looked like a dream, head thrown back on your shoulder, thigh thighs spread open with his pretty cock on display for you. As your hands made their way to his tummy you scratched softly, fingers sliding through the trail that started under his belly button and went down. He must have felt sensitive there because he turned his head to the side, mouth pressed against your neck as he cursed.

“S’good, so good. Fuck, I swear anything you do feels fuckin’ perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder at his words, feeling the high of them as he spoke.

Holding your hand out in front of him, palm up toward his face he hummed against you, not sure what you were wanting him to do, but willing to do just about anything if it meant your hand would be on his cock.

“Spit.”

All that was heard in the room was his quick intake of air, eyes fluttering as he leaned toward your hand. He looked back at you once, to double check that this was real or for confirmation that you really wanted him to spit in your hand, you’re not sure. But you nodded, throat bobbing as he turned back and spit, watching in awe.

“Good boy.”

Any strength he had left was gone at your words, head falling back to its place on your shoulder as you moved your hand down, taking hold of his cock and hearing him hiss at the contact.

You think this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

His cock was hot and smooth under your touch, a mix of his spit and precum making it easy to glide your hand over his shaft, letting your thumb catch on the tip and relishing in the way he gasped in your ear.

“Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy, hmm?” The feeling of his fingers digging into your thighs only spurred you on, hand tight around him as you stroked him quickly, loving the way his tummy would clench and he’d gasp at how slick he was, how good it felt.

You’d never seen him so needy, so pathetic as he was right now, little whines and pleas against the shell of your ear as you gripped him. He was heavy in your hand and you wondered how he’d feel on your tongue, how he’d taste when he thrusted into your mouth. You’d add that to the list of things you needed to do immediately.

“M’sorry, sorry fuck—you’re gonna make me cum, m’gonna cum—oh shit.” He was throbbing hard against your palm, breathing even harder against your neck and you cooed at him when his hips started thrusting up in time with your strokes.

“Without asking? I don’t think so, Stevie. You haven’t even said please!” Your hand slowed and he moved so his hand was wrapped over yours, trying to get you to go faster but you swatted him away, scolding him with a pinch to his hip.

Taking one look at his face that was still buried in your throat, you could tell he was out of it, so fucked out you weren’t sure he could even form words, let alone beg. But that didn’t stop you from egging him on, slowing down until he was so worked up he was on the verge of tears.

“Oh fuck—please…baby, honey, please let me cum? I’ve been so good I just..shit I need it. You feel so good, perfect girl. O-oh my god, please. Please please please.”

He was mumbling, a mix of curses and pleas as he left sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your throat. You think you’d give him anything he wanted right now with how pretty he sounded, all pathetic and fucked out for you.

“Go ahead, pretty boy. Cum on my hand, yeah? Make a mess of us.” Your hand sped up on his cock, feeling yourself leak into his bed as he twitched against your fingers. You kept going, kept talking as his hips got sloppy and cock was red and begging for release.

“Don’t know how you’ll ever fit inside me, Stevie. Gonna have to prep me for days I think.”

“Next time you’ll have to use my mouth, yeah? I hate letting your cum go to waste.”

“Y’look so pretty like this. My sweet boy thrusting up into my hand, gonna think about this for days.”

He thrusted up one final time, hips stilling and body going tight as his orgasm took over. His cum coated your fist that was still wrapped around him, reaching his belly and even spilling down onto his thighs. He couldn’t even see the way you pouted at how much had been wasted, cursing yourself for not letting him use your mouth.

Slumped completely against your chest he mumbled something about his legs feeling like jelly and you giggled, cheek resting against his forehead.

“Soooo, good then?”

It took all the energy he could muster to squeeze your thigh, head moving to the side a fraction so he could look at you, smiling so big his cheeks had to hurt. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? I think I just saw god for a second.”

Rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders, butterflies danced in your stomach at how pretty he looked. His skin was flushed and glowing, hair a mess where you’d both pulled at it, lips swollen and red from biting and kissing and holding them between his teeth. He looked phenomenal.

As much as you’d love to stay here wrapped up in him for the rest of your life, your thighs had gone numb from being stretched around his hips and your back ached from sitting back against his headboard for so long.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nodding off on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and little puffs of air hitting your skin. You tapped his cheeks with your clean hand, “C’mon, Stevie. Gotta clean us up and then we can go straight to bed.”

He groaned in protest but leaned up enough so that you could slip from behind him, legs tingling when you stood on them, hobbling to the bathroom on shaky legs and flipping Steve off when you heard him chuckle from behind you.

“Oh fuck off, Harrington.”

******************************************

When Steve wakes up the next morning it’s slow and sweet, eyes blinking open and a small smile on his lips when he feels you pressed into his side.

He looks down and tries not to laugh at your mouth hanging open, a little bit of drool on his chest from where your cheek is squished against his skin. Your hair is sticking up in every direction and he can feel your breath on him. It makes his heart grow in his chest, an overwhelming sense of joy and contentment washing over him as he stares down at you. He could get used to this, you attached to his hip and waking up to you in his bed.

Thinking back to when you barely gave him the time of day, he smiles at your relationship now. How you’re just as needy as him, tugging on his belt loop to pull him to you if he’s not close enough for your liking, pulling his hand to your thigh in his car if he doesn’t do it first. He’s seen you use your foot to pull his chair closer to yours at work countless times, a little smile on his mouth every time.

There’s a part of him that doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He feels that way all the time but especially when you laugh louder than you mean to, hand coming up to cover your mouth with a bashful smile. He feels it when you're humming along to a song you’d heard on the radio, head moving side to side and hips swaying to the beat in your head. He feels it when you randomly bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm and to his fingertips.

He feels it all the time, really.

And he loves when you're mean to him, when you tease him about staring at you too long or for getting all bashful when you do something normal like tuck your hair behind your ear or scrunch your nose. He loves that you turn him into mush.

“Stop staring, you creep.” He’d been so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice your eyes opening or how’d you had scooted closer to him, one leg coming up to tangle with his, wrapped together tightly.

“That’s rich coming from you considering I’m gonna have to clean your drool off me.” You gasped, sitting up straight and smacking at this chest, appalled at the notion that you would ever—could ever—drool on him in your sleep.

“Keep it up, Steve. Remember what happened the last time you pissed me off?”

As if he’d ever forget. Unfortunately for you, the idea of repeating last night, or anything like it, was hardly going to deter him from pressing your buttons in the way that only he knew how to do. Reaching out he tugged you back down to him, tucking you back into his side and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

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maeedrg · 22 days ago

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The girl next door

Gojo x insecure fem reader

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Synopsis : in which you are a college student, and the roommate of Shoko. You meet Gojo Satoru, her friend, for the first time in a quite embarrassing way, and you directly can’t stand him. Loud, charming, handsome, flirty, teasing, everything to put you on your nerves. He kept joking around, hitting on you. But you were sure he was just playing. Because why would someone like him be interested in someone like you ?

Warnings : tooth rooting fluff, swearing, Gojo is a menace, some angst, insecurity, romantic comedy, slow burn, enemies (one sided) to friends, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, pet names, smut, praise kink, p in v, foreplay, loving sex, some Shoko x Utahime

Words count : 21k (that’s… a lot)

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : it’s my first fic that is over 20k words. I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you guys will love it too ! Not completly proof read tho, xoxo

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The first time you met Satoru was rather embarrassing.

It’s not been long since you knew your new roommate, Shoko. She was a very chill and nice girl, proposing to smoke with you, helping you with cores, cooking, and being very easygoing. She wasn’t often at the shared apartment. Either studying on campus, being a medicine major was quite hard (even though she told you she cheated a lot), or either hanging out with her friends.

You didn’t really know her friends personally. You only saw them on pics, pics that she posted on her personal social media. You remember thinking that they looked hot. A guy with white hair, that intrigued you. Another one with long black hair, that looked like a model. They both looked like models, actually. And others, girls and guys included. They all were insanely attractive, to the point that you thought you were like the black sheep of her pretty friends. That was mean to yourself, but you couldn’t help these small sentences of insecurity traversing your mind whenever you saw her new posts with them, or even when you kinda, you admit, went to stalk their accounts.

It didn’t take much for you to meet some of her friends, in the end. And maybe, maybe you wished it was in another situation. Because why the fuck you were sitting in your pajamas, next to the prettiest guy you ever seen, on your damn couch, on a wednesday night.

Let’s get back in time. Earlier that day, your roommate told you that she would bring two of her friends. You expected girls, since the last time it was one named Utahime that was hanging out in the warmth of the living room. So, once you came from your classes, the first thing you did when finally being back inside your apartment was to take a shower to wash off all the dirt that got accumulated through the day. After finishing to clean yourself with your favorite scented body wash, and all the routine that comes after your shower, you tightly wrap a towel around your body and open the door. You sigh, but then stop dead on your track.

“Shoko, where is the bathroom ? Oh- nevermind, I found it,” exclaims a voice, before you are facing a tall white haired man looming over you, raising his eyebrows and then grinning when seeing you. You gasp, realizing you were only wearing a towel in front of a total stranger.

“Oh my fucking god !”, you almost scream as you step back, and the stranger chuckles, raising up his hands to show he is clearly innocent. For a second, his blue orbs eye you down.

“Oops, sorry sweetie,” he says, turning around to give you some privacy as you felt the words die on your tongue at the surprise you had. You didn’t even react to the horrible nickname he called you, and quickly stepped to the side.

“You can use the bathroom, it’s free,” you say without waiting for an answer and dash towards the room, slamming the door behind you.

You breathe heavily, wanting to bury yourself six feet underground. Alright, calm down. He barely had the time to see you. And the towel covered you enough. It wasn’t that bad… right ? You sigh, and then change in your pajamas. Even if you knew that Shoko brought friends that you clearly didn’t know, you didn’t want to bother to dress up for strangers. Comfortability was top priority, even more because of how tired you felt. Without further ado, you put on your clean pajamas.

Satoru swore, from what he saw, even if it was only for a second, that he met an angel. His heart was beating abnormally quick as he washes his hands in the sink, and glances at himself in the mirror. The bathroom was filled with the scent of body wash, and some steam was glued to the atmosphere and the walls. Lord, he wanted to see more closely the face of Shoko’s roommate. He was curious, even more that he barely had the time to really look at her. Curiosity, yeah, curiosity, that’s all.

As you come back in the living room, you see Shoko smoking at the window, and at her side a tall guy with long black hair lazily half tied in a bun. He looks at you arriving, and as you turn your eyes, you see the guy from earlier. Sitting on manspread on the couch, oversized sweatshirt hood over his head, making him look even more comfy in his attire. His eyes lock with yours, and the corner of his lips stretches. Finally he could see what you really looked like. He stares at you.

“Here she is ! Sorry for earlier, uh…” he starts to say, tilting his head to the side.

“Y/n,” you answer, gazing back at him before not sparing him another one, going towards the table to take your phone in your bag. He nods to himself, repeating your name in his mind.

“You really are a dick, Satoru,” groans Shoko, rolling her eyes. You smile at her, and she gives you back the grin.

“Violating the intimacy of a lady like that, that’s really not gentleman of you,” adds the black haired guy, and you can't help but let out a small laugh at his exaggeration.

“Suguru, come on, it was an accident,” whines the so-called Satoru, pouting slightly. You couldn’t help but think he looked like a petulant child.

“I’m fine, I don’t care,” you clear out the situation, your hands in front of you to show that they could take it easy.

“That’s good to hear,” smiles Satoru, and you look back at him for a second. You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, I’ll let you guys hangout together,” you annonce, ready to leave back to your own room. Not to add that right now, you were in your not so pretty pajamas, and you felt slightly embarrassed to be seen like that. At first you didn’t care, you just wanted to go fetch your phone discreetly in your bag, not wanting to dress up just for that. But you didn’t plan on starting a conversation with these strangers !

“No, stay y/n, so I can present them to you,” insists Shoko, as she blows the smoke of her cigarette at the window, and the black haired one inhales on his own, piercing purple eyes on you.

“Uh…” you start, unsure.

“We don't bite,” adds the so-called Suguru from what you heard the white haired guy call him earlier.

“Or maybe you’re too shy ?” taunts Satoru, and you frown. You let out a huff and sit next to him on the couch.

“I’m not,” you retort, and Satoru shifts on his spot to face you, leaning against the head of the couch and keeping his arms crossed, looking at you through his long lashes. Wow, up close he was prettier than you thought. Way too pretty, that was almost angering. On the other hand, Satoru was analyzing your face too, being able to look at it up close. You quickly turn your eyes away, thinking he maybe was looking at the imperfections on your skin. God, did the new pimple you had this morning was that big ? No way…

“These two annoying dickheads have been my friends since highschool. And this is my roommate !” explains Shoko as she points at the two guys, looking at you, then pointing now towards your direction when saying you were her roommate. All attention is on you, and you let out a nervous chuckle.

“Dickheads ?” asks Suguru, raising a disapproving eyebrow.

“The name is Gojo Satoru,” starts the white haired man without caring one bit for the nickname your roommate gave him. He smiles brightly, looking at your reaction and the way something glints in your eyes when you acknowledge what you heard by nodding.

“Geto Suguru,” continues his friend.

“L/n Y/n,” you finish.

Shoko continued the small presentation, and they all started to talk again. Either about highschool, back in time, their major, parties, or you. Gojo seemed eager to know more, asking questions, sometimes having no boundaries whatsoever with what he asked, but you quickly realized that he was just like that. You still were a bit on your guard around him. The way he so smoothly talked, being charming and overly flirty, made you think he was just a goddamn player. And that he never was really serious when talking to you. On the contrary, Geto was much calmer, to the point you wished that Satoru took some example of his friend. You didn’t know why, but the way they all engaged in conversation, you just were looking at them, barely participating. That pissed you off. Why were you acting like that tonight ? You felt somewhat intimidated, in front of Shoko’s friends. And that was the problem.

“You single ?” Gojo askes out of the blue, leaning his chin on his palm as he slides his arm on the couch, eyes on you. Shoko and Geto were still at the window, talking together, even if they both ended their cigarettes minutes ago.

“Why ?” you retort, frowning.

“Can’t a guy ask ?” he muses, looking at you up and down. Wow, alright. Was he playing around ? To kill time with you ? You decide to indulge him a bit.

“No, I don’t have time for dating,” you answer, shaking your head after a sigh and bringing your left knee towards your chest.

“Wow, look at that, perfect match. I don’t do relationships either,” he says, lips stretching more and letting his white teeth to your seeing.

“I never would have thought,” you say ironically, teasing.

“Hey, are you saying I’m a player ?” he chuckles, clearly not hurt at all by the way you saw him.

“Kinda,” you admit, looking back at him, tilting your head to the side.

“Ehhhh, what can I say ? I have the charms that get the ladies,” he hums, narrowing his eyes.

“What a huge ego,” you raise your brows, hand on your chest to fake your chock.

“What ? You’re not interested ?” he asks, leaning closer and suddenly looking like he really wanted your answer on that question. One second pass as you both stare into the eyes of each other, one second where thousands of thoughts swirl in your head : ‘he really acts like a player’, ‘he asks that but he is not interested himself’, ‘it’s just for the joke and to boost his confidence if I say yes’, ‘but he kinda is hot, though’, etc.

“I barely know you, and you are the friend of my roommate,” you end up somewhat refusing.

“Ah, what a bummer… Here I thought I had my chance,” Satoru pouts, leaning backwards and the hood of his sweatshirt falls a bit more on his snowy hair.

“Poor you,” you roll your eyes and stand up from the couch, dusting your pants. You do a sign to Shoko that she sees from the corner of her eyes.

“Whatever, I need to study in my room, see you all,” you wave, Suguru says good luck and Satoru doesn’t say anything as he bites his thumb looking at you while you walk away, leaving an empty spot on the couch next to him.

Satoru was wondering. Why was he so… intrigued ?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You were sitting in the library of the university, busy studying for your upcoming exams. It was rather quiet, even more quiet when you were the last one left before the closing hour of the campus. Students went back home, busy with their daily life. Well, you didn’t want to study at your apartment. After what happened last time, you were quite nervous at the idea that Shoko could have brought her friends.

It’s not that you didn’t like them, just… you felt overly quieted down. And you hated it. You weren’t as comfortable as usual when being with your usual group of friends, or with Shoko being only the two of you. You were quieter, less sociable, and everything that came with your personality. But God, Gojo was so… eccentric, his personality was louder than yours at first glance, and it directly outshined you the moment you met him. It kinda made you hold a grudge. Maybe you weren’t honest with yourself ? Maybe you just were nervous in his presence ? And for fuck’s sake, you despised feeling nervous because of a man. Geto, on the other hand, wasn’t as loud as his white haired friend, gentler and giving more of his attention, but he made you somewhat nervous too because of his aura and intense stare. What a deadly duo they were.

Ugh. You try to concentrate back on work, tapping your pen on your paper, looking at the empty table you were sitting at. But then, the quietness of the moment gets interrupted not because of your thoughts, but because of familiar voices. The one of Shoko, and her two other best friends, with other persons that you didn’t recognize.

“Y/n, you’re here ?” says your roommate, surprised, approaching you as in the back you are met with the piercing blue eyes of Gojo. He looks at you up and down before snapping back his attention to someone making a joke and laughing heartily at it.

“Yup, studying. Didn’t expect you to see you here right now with all your friends,” you answer, stretching your back as you look at the brunette, and she smiles, sitting next to you when taking a chair.

“They wanted to come to the library too, to study, but I don’t trust Gojo to do his homeworks for one second,” she explains, rolling her eyes and winking at you. At the same time the white haired male turns around and wraps his arm around the shoulder of Shoko, standing behind the two of you. You could smell his cologne by how close he was, and he munches on a minty chewing gum, the fresh scent filling your nose.

“What ? Hey, I can be very serious when needed ! You hurt me here, Shoko…” he whines, and then glances at you, giving you a grin as the corner of his lips stretches even more when noticing the way you frown. You look back at him, but forget to answer his smile because of how mesmerized you are- no, wait. Mesmerized ? No, no. You were just distracted for a second here… You look back at the other part of the people gathering around the table, Geto sitting in front of you and throwing a pencil to the head of his best friend.

“Quite it. And come sit to study, instead of joking around,” he sighs saying that. Gojo grabs the pencil, groaning and huffing, standing back up and sitting next to the black haired male.

“Yes wifey,” he rolls his eyes, answering.

You keep your gaze on your paper, and try to not listen too much to their small talk about their exams, keeping your mind focused on your own work. Other girls sit around, with a few guys. The at first lonely table was now full, to the point that they had to bring new chairs. You were slightly squeezed in between Shoko and another guy. You sigh deeply, and can’t help but look at the corner of your eyes the way Gojo so easily engages conversation with the others on the table. Cracking flirty jokes, making some of the girls fawn over him before Geto reprimands him. Everything looked so easy for him. As if his tongue was velvet, words rolling down off his mouth.

Satoru kept having his eyes looking at your attempt of concentration, the way you were biting on your lower lip, or sometimes glaring at him when he was being too loud. He saw it all, and he couldn’t help but want to see more of this facial expression, slowly getting addicted to the deathly and annoyed glare you threw at him when he was laughing a bit too much and stopped you from studying silently.

On the other side, you noticed nothing of that. You even felt smaller than ever, like an intruder in this group of people that knew each other and joked and flirted along so easily. Outshining you. Aside from Shoko, you didn’t understand why they were even sitting here with you. I mean, there were plenty of other free tables. Every other table, actually, since the library was empty aside from you when they arrived.

You look at how Gojo is lazily leaning against his chair, legs sprayed and crossing his arms over his chest as he grins at what one of the girls of the group is saying. Suguru participates in the conversation, apparently being about a group project for one of their courses. Shoko throws anecdotes to what happened last time they did a group project back in highschool. Right, you totally remember that too… That was ironic, you had no fucking idea what they were talking about, and you felt even more left out and pissed off. Why bother sitting here if you don't even get included ? Aside from Shoko asking you earlier if you wanted her to cook dinner for the two of you, that you happily accepted.

But fuck, this damn ass smirk at the corner of the lips of Gojo is pissing you off so so much. You tap your pencil against your paper more frequently, again and again as he cracks another joke that makes some of the other persons giggle. You sigh, and he looks at your facial expression. Damn, you looked cute.

As Gojo laughs loudly at what Suguru said, balancing himself on his chair, you finally snap and bang your pencil on the table and look at him sternly.

“Can you stop being so loud ? I can’t concentrate since earlier, and it’s pissing me off. Either you shut up and work, or you go be loud as you want but outside the library,” you exclaim, which makes everyone look at you quite surprised. Satoru has his eyes open wider, and he swore that he just felt like you stole his heart at your tone of voice being sooo mad at him. Fuck, was it bad that he wanted to make you angrier ?

“I told you, Satoru,” sighs Geto as he shrugs and nudges his best friend, at least agreeing with you. Shoko chuckles slightly, looking at the scene, amused.

“Wow, easy sweetheart. Didn’t mean to be that annoying. Sorry ?” he raises an eyebrow, looking at you as he tilts his head to the side, staring right back at your face. You didn’t know why, but the way he apologized angered you even damn more. And the way he kept looking at you, holding eye contact with no shame made you slightly nervous, which served to worsen your annoyance.

But then you hear some of the rest of the group mock him, or defend him, and that makes you roll your eyes. His damn fangirls and fanboys were a pain in the ass right now, and you just wanted to bang your head on the table at this exact moment.

“Excuse Satoru, he likes to have all the attention on him,” whispers Shoko to you, and you sigh at her words. It’s not like it was her fault.

Finally, it calms down, and instead of talking, or even studying like he said, Satoru was just staring at you, not looking away but instead analyzing the way the muscles of your face move each time you think or read something. The air shifts and you look back up, your eyes meet his, and you quickly look back at your notebook as if nothing happened. Did you have something on your face ? Why would he even be staring in the first place ?

After some minutes, it was too much for you. You felt like suffocating, and the air of the atmosphere was getting thick with tension. You were agonizing, and then without waiting any more seconds you pack your things in silence and stand back up. Shoko looks up at you, surprised.

“Already going ?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yep, I’ll study in my room. See you for dinner,” you explain under the burning gaze of Satoru. You put on your bag over your shoulder and glance at the table before stepping back.

“See you, y/n,” smiles at you Suguru, and you are quite surprised that he remembered your name. So you smile back and give him a small wave before walking away.

“Goodbye, Geto” and you leave. Satoru huffs, wondering why did his best friend had the chance to receive your smile, but not him. Once you are out of sight, you finally breathe again and open the door of the library before stepping outside.

But then as you walk in the corridor, alone, you hear quick footsteps behind you. Curious, you turn around, only to be met by the Gojo Satoru jogging towards your direction on the empty hallway. You turn around, ready to leave, deciding it wasn’t your business to know why he walked out of the library.

“Y/n,” he says your name. And you frown. He came to talk to you ? But why ? As you spin your head, he is right by your side, stopping in front of your confused face, almost looming over you because of how tall he is.

“Uh, yes ?” you ask, unsure.

“You’ mad at me ?” questions directly Satoru, hands in his pockets as he gazes at your eyes. Him and his damn blue eyes that made you so nervous. Shit, annoying as hell.

“I mean, you did piss me off, but you ended up shutting up so… not as much as earlier, I guess,” you admit, looking away, and then slowly back up at him.

“Sorry for earlier,” he adds, analyzing your reaction, and somewhat looking more apologetic compared to 20 minutes ago.

“No need to apologize twice, you already did earlier,” you retort, and you see him slightly pouting at the way you rejected his words.

“But I really wouldn’t want a cutie like you to be mad at me, so I’m just making sure, ya’ know ?” Satoru taunts, cheeky grin eating his face, and that makes you scoff at his flirtatious comment. Cutie ? He had to be kidding, seriously… He looked like a womanizer, after all, so you didn’t take his words to heart at all.

“Obviously…” you end up answering sarcastically with nonetheless an amused smile on your face. Gojo just felt like he won the moment your lips stretched to bless his eyes with your beautiful small smile of amusement. And that makes his grow larger. He steps back, leaving you space.

“Alright, see you soon, y/n,” he winks at you before turning around.

“Goodbye, Gojo,” you finish as you walk away too, on the opposite side.

Double win ! Satoru managed to hear his name roll down your tongue, and even if it wasn’t his first name, he didn’t care. He waits for you to be out of view to have a small leap of success. He was glad you didn’t see him do that, you would have cringed and thought he was crazy… And it’s with a happy facial expression that Gojo enters back the library, facking a nonchalant walk, but inside, his heart was hammering like a wild horse.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

After having a stressful week, you just wanted to relax, and put your mind somewhere else by chilling at home. As you sit on the ground in front of the TV, you decide to dust off the Wii controllers and console. Why not play some Mario Kart ? It’s been so long since you did, and it could make you feel like a kid again, without all the stress of university and student life on your shoulders. That could indeed be nice.

Sitting back down on the couch, you start to play alone, since your roommate was out with friends. You get concentrated, barely noticing when Shoko comes back home, in the middle of a party and if you did look away, that would probably make you fail and be at the bottom of the list. You squint your eyes, focused, and then throw bananas, laughing as it makes one of the characters slip on it.

“That was sly of you here !” suddenly exclaims a voice behind you, and you look up surprised, only to see blue eyes half lidded as Gojo smiles cockily at you.

“Gojo-” you say surprised, as he jumps and plops next to you on the couch. Behind, Geto and Shoko are waving at you as a hello. You raise even more your brows, before looking back at the screen and realize your kart got stuck on the grass, making you the 7 in the classment, when you were the first some seconds ago. You groan, annoyed.

“Fuck !” you exclaim, trying to get back on track.

“You don’t play that well,” states Satoru, leaning on the couch spreading his arms on each side, looking at your game play.

“Excuse me ? That is your fault if I'm suddenly low in the ranking ! You caught me off guard !” you justify yourself as you speed up, frowning and leaning towards the screen to be even more concentrated.

“Don’t be a sore loser, y/n,” he teases, clearly getting on your nerves. And Lord, he just wanted to see that angry face again. The one you made back at the library was just so cute, he had to make you have it a second time. You couldn’t blame him, could you ?

“I’m not a sore loser- just shut up, I’m concentrated,” you hiss, glaring at him on the side, and you feel your anger rising at his antics. He continues to pester you, which made you arrive 4th on the podium at the end of the race. You lean back on the couch, defeated.

“Awwww… boo. Lemme show you how a winner plays, yeah ?” Satoru nudges you and grabs your Wii controller. You try to take it back but he lifts his arm up, out of reach for your smaller frame.

“Seriously ?” you sigh, already pissed to the bone, as he just smirks at you, eyes looking down at your face that gets closer each time you try to take the controller back.

“Gojo, stop flirting like a 13 years old kid,” chuckles mockingly Shoko, sitting on a chair drinking some can beer with Suguru at her right, looking at the scene clearly amused.

“Hey, at least that works !” he exclaims as he gives her a wink, and you stand up to snatch the controller away but he quickly grabs your arm and makes you fall under him. You gasp of surprise, hair a mess now, and soon realize what just happened and in what position you were. His large hand that was wrapped around your wrist feels strangely electrifying, and you feel your stomach turn at how dangerously close he was.

“That doesn’t work !” you exclaim firmly. Gojo pouts and lets you go, letting you breath as he backs down to give you some space.

“Be nice, Satoru,” lectures Suguru, his voice dripping like honey which makes the white haired male calm down. He sits back down on the couch, crossing his arms as if he just got scolded, still holding the controller. You sigh and stand back up, walking towards the drawer of the tv to grab one of the spare controllers you had from your childhood. You sit back next to your new found nemesis.

“Let’s compete, and we’ll see who is the sore loser now,” you announce, more like ordering him, turning on your controller as player 2. Of course you exchange with Satoru, wanting to be the one to control the Wii.

“A challenge, sweetheart ?” he smiles, choosing a character and its kart. He surprisingly picks princess peach, which makes you chuckle, but actually didn’t really surprise you that much.

“I’ll crush you,” you say as a matter of fact, getting suddenly serious when picking a road to compete now.

“Nah, I’d win,” he says confidently, spreading more his legs and glancing at your concentrated face. He had to say, he was on cloud nine right now. Meanwhile, Shoko and Geto are interested in the race, looking at the screen as it starts.

“If I win, you owe me a wish,” he taunts.

“Deal, but if I win, you’ll be the one owing me a wish,” you answer, picking a box gift and getting turtle shells. Satoru was in front of you, so you threw some at him. The first two he avoids them easily. You frown, surprised that he managed to do so.

“‘kay cutie,” he answers lazily, and as you throw the last one, it doesn’t reach him, but instead one of his teammates. You groan, but at least it’s not a total fail.

“You can’t beat me. I played this game thousands of times !” he adds confidently, speeding up and you struggle to catch him up on the rainbow road.

“You’re a nerd,” you spat.

“So what ? I’ll beat you in any video game, actually,” he scoffs, both of your karts next to each other, at the verge of making one fall from the rainbow.

“Boohoo, you stink,” you mock him on purpose, leaning closer to the tv, struggling, as Satoru stays laid back on the couch.

“Hey, I shower ! Even if I play League of Legend !” he defends himself, which makes Geto and Shoko laugh at this whole bickering you two had.

“Bahahahaha !” you can’t stop but laugh, before calming yourself to try to get back on track.

The race gets risky, and it’s the last part of it. No matter what magical box you use, you never manage being top 1. And that makes you wonder how Satoru could be that good at this game, being almost unfair as if trying to beat the god of Mario Kart. Your kart is back side to side to Gojo’s, and then, he has the nerves to tease you, before suddenly doing a skid and pushing your kart off the road. You scream of terror, when the race ends and Satoru ends up being top 1.

“You son of a bitch !” you scream, eyes wide open, being put back on the road and ending up the 9th. You see red, glaring at him, and you only are met with his stupid wolfish grin, eyebrows raised and leaning lazily on the couch as if he did nothing wrong.

“Told you, I’d win,” he simply says, winking at you.

You just wanted to rip off his stupid smirk out of his face, beyond pissed that you lost. You stand up from the couch, walking towards the kitchen to drink water and to try to calm yourself down.

“You did me dirty at the last second ! I could have won !” you defend yourself, slamming back the glass of water on the kitchen counter. Satoru follows suit, stepping slowly towards you with his hands nonchalantly in his pockets.

“That’s part of the game, y/n,” he shrugs, before cornering you, his trumphic smile reaching his eyes. He clearly was very pleased with himself, and this situation. Lord, how infuriating he was.

“Stop being cocky,” you glare at his pretty blue eyes, and Satoru bites the inside of his cheek at how excited he gets when seeing your sweet angry face. He loved it. Since last time at the library, it suddenly became like an addiction of his, to see your facial reactions. They were so enticing, after all. How could you blame him ? He was just curious to see more. So much more.

“You still owe me a wish,” he muses, and you sigh, drinking silently your water.

“I know….” you say. Satoru hums to himself, thinking about it. He was looming over you, halfway hiding the light behind him. You were cornered, forced to listen to his wish and bragging about winning.

“Bake me cookies. Shoko brought some of yours last time, and I tried one. Since then, I’ve been dying to eat more of it,” he suddenly orders and explains, biting his lower lip at the imagination and the recall of the sweet taste of your baking.

Without realizing, you felt flattered that he enjoyed your baking that much. You made these cookies before meeting him, actually. And it was true that Shoko told you she would bring some, if you accepted, to her friends. Who would have thought that Gojo Satoru would have tested them and dreamt about them before even knowing you in person ? You start to wonder if Shoko talked about you too, and if yes, what did she say ?

“Well, I can do that… But not now, I’m tired, so another day. And Shoko will bring them to you,” you end up accepting, not like Satoru would let you have the choice.

“No, you bring them to me. It would only be fair, right ?” he corrects, posing one of his hands on the counter, right next to your waist. You look up at him.

“Fine… Alright, alright, diva,” you roll your eyes, making Satoru’s smile grow wider.

“Aaaand, since you can’t fulfill my wish today, how about you give me a kiss on the cheek as a compensation ?” he proposes, tilting his head to the side, his finger tapping right next to you. You fluster, giving him a glare that he drinks up like honey.

“Gojo, what ?”

“Come ooon ! Just a peck on the cheek !” he insists, pouting and doing his puppy eyes.

“I swear to God…” you sigh, before going on your tiptoes to reach his face. He beams, and leans down to give you more access. The moment your soft lips touched his cheek, he ascended to heaven, teeth showing because of how much he was smiling. His eyes were half lidded with mischief, and if you noticed enough you could see the tip of his ears slowly turning red.

“Atta girl. See when you want ?”

“Leave me alone,” you shake your head, slightly smirking at his antics as you walk back towards the living room.

“No, let’s play again !” he suddenly says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder by surprise. You look up at him only to be flashed by his boyish grin that he harbors happily.

“Nuh-uh !” you try to escape, but he forces you to sit down next to him, grabbing back the controllers that were on the couch.

“Yuh-uh !” he insists, starting another party.

You did end up having multiple other Mario Parties with him, to the point that Satoru himself, who at first came with Suguru to spend time with Shoko, ended up spending all evening with you. Not that Shoko cared, she did enjoy seeing him looking like a kid when having fun with you. Maybe that her and Geto were secretly rooting for him to shoot his shot. Who knows ? You couldn’t know, but you still were having way more fun than you expected. In fact, you and Gojo were getting pretty well along, bickering quite often. You barely knew him, but the way he acted, directly made you feel like you did know him for years. Gojo Satoru was just like that. His charms, his annoying behavior, his easy going nature, his jokes, his teasing, his lack of boundaries, all these little things made him look approachable, even if in reality, he wasn’t at all.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

As planned, some days later, you found time to bake the cookies Gojo wanted you to make. At first, you completely forgot, but then, an unknown number suddenly contacted you, asking for the cookies to be made. It obviously was Gojo Satoru. Thanks to Shoko, after pestering her for quite some time, he managed to get your number. In all honesty, him asking you by text for the cookies was just an excuse to talk to you and annoy you occasionally. But you didn’t know that, only thinking he was interested in getting his reward for winning against you last time.

So here you were, with the freshly baked cookies in your hands. Satoru told you to come see him on campus to give him the chocolate chip cookies. You then receive a call, your phone vibrating in your pocket. With your free fingers, you grab it and see it simply was Gojo. You brace yourself and answer after some seconds, not wanting to look desperate by answering at the first ringtone.

“Y/n ! Where are you ?” suddenly exclaims the cheerful voice of Satoru.

“The question is where are you ? I got the cookies,” you reply, turning around to see if you could notice his tall frame in this crowd of students all around you.

“I’m close to the cafeteria, next to the red bench,” he explains, and you hum before starting to walk again towards your destination.

“Alright, I’m on my way, so don’t move,” you answer, squeezing the tupperware of cookies against your chest.

“Yes ma’am, I’m staying right here,” he teases, and then you stop the call. Barely two minutes later, you see his snowy white haired head some meters away. You smile, and walk faster. But when you approach, you notice a bunch of girls surrounding him. Your smile falters slightly, and you quickly try to keep a neutral face. What was that feeling ? Jealousy ? No, why would you ? You shake your head, and then Gojo spots you. He flashes you a joyful grin, waving at you.

“Y/n !”

You can’t help but soften at his cheerfulness. What was amusing with Satoru, is that if he kept a straight face, everyone would think he was cold and unapproachable. But the way he always smiled and was loud enough for people in another city to hear him, completely broke this idea of coldness. The girls surrounding him look at you, curious of who you were.

“Hey,” you say, not only to Satoru but to the fellow girls as well. “Here, your cookies, you better enjoy it because I had to use all my remaining favorite chocolate to make the chips,” you warn, giving him the box. He beams, and his fingers brush against yours when taking the tupperware. That single stupid innocent touch made you linger your gaze on him.

“Ah, what an angel,” he drawls, winking at you. That brings some stare towards you at his flirty behavior, and you feel slightly nervous, brushing it off as if it was nothing.

“Give me back the tupperware when you’re done,” you order, and he whispers saying “bossy”. One of the girls wraps her arm around his bicep and leans towards him, looking at the cookies.

“Oahhhhhh, Gojo, could you feed me some ?” she bats her eyelashes saying that, looking at him. You can’t help but think how pretty she looked, and quite sure of herself to blatantly be that touchy and flirty with him, which were some guts you didn’t have. The remaining girls add themselves in the conversation, swooning over him like moths towards a bonfire. You felt suddenly left out. Not necessarily because of the way you suddenly weren’t part of the discussion anymore, standing awkwardly, but because you felt like they were from another world. One far away from you.

Satoru himself and these women looked like super models. They clearly had this type of face that would make any person at their feet, and it just made you realize how Gojo was out of your league, being a beauty and surrounded by beauties too. You weren’t very confident in your own beauty, having strong moments of insecurity. And damn, you hated feeling like shit right now. Satoru did nothing wrong, these girls too, but here you were, moping around and your heart sinking to your heels for something so stupid.

Gojo laughs at what they say, a cheeky grin and eyes twinkling with a light of mischief. This ugly and nasty emotion was boiling inside of you. With what happened this past few times, you thought that he maybe could be interested in you. But seriously, why would he when these supermodels-like were always surrounding him ? Being one himself ? You qualified your beauty as average, boring, even, nothing standing out of the ordinary. Yeah, this growing crush you had against your will was better shoved down the ground. You didn’t belong next to him.

You sigh, take a deep breath, acting like everything was alright, and then turn around. Satoru directly notices this change of mood and the way your back was now facing him. He frowns, slightly feeling guilty. Did he on purpose try to act all flirty just to make you jealous and see if it works ? Wanting to see this angry face he enjoyed so much last times, the way your mouth and brows twitched and this beautiful glare he longed for ? Yes. Did he feel like a dick right now after blatantly ignoring you ? Yeah.

He suddenly grabs your arm, and you spin your face towards him, surprised by his move. Did he forget anything ?

“Actually… wait,” he says, but then his words die down on his throat. He actually had no single idea of what to say, no single one. The way you looked at him made his mind blank, and it was infuriating because usually his head was full of sentences to shout all the time. Why now he had nothing to say ? Seriously ?!

“Uh… don’t tell me you want more cookies, I won’t bake you more, unless you pay me,” you say, trying to act casual and like your usual self. That cracked a smile on his face.

“First of all, I would for sure ask you to bake me cookies again. And second… I… I don’t want to eat these cookies alone, so come with me,” he ends up trying to regain his eternal confidence, straightening his posture.

“Well, we wanted to eat these with you, so-” starts one of the girls, and Satoru wraps his arm around your shoulders as he gives you a squeeze.

“Nope, sorry girls, I’m greedy for sweets, I don’t share. Only with the baker right here,” he explains, giving you a wink at the end of his sentence. You give him a confused look, wondering why he suddenly proposed that.

“Ehhhhh ? You’re so mean !” pouts one of them, and Satoru shakes his head.

“Nahhhh, can’t do, so see ya,” he finishes, before turning on the other side and dragging you with him without waiting for any answer, and all that so shamelessly. You look at him, and he just smiles at you. Fuck, that makes your heart flutter for a second. You didn’t need that right now.

“Why did you do that ?”

“What ? Can’t I eat cookies with you now ? You’re the one that baked them, it’s only fair if I let you at least eat one of them. I’m nice, right ? Normally I never share sweets,” he justifies himself, and you raise an eyebrow before nodding to yourself. Right, Satoru was just being nice, nothing else. Surely anyone else would have done the same, it’s called being polite, no ? You brush it off by letting out a laugh as you both walk towards a more secluded place of the campus, his arm still around you.

“I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth,” you comment, analyzing him up and down.

“Excuse-me ? Me ? A sweet tooth ? No way, I don’t… I just enjoy some sweet treats here and there, like everyone,” he answers sheepishly.

“The way you justify yourself makes me feel like you do have a sweet tooth, Gojo,” you tease, inhaling the fresh air of outside as you spot a bench some meters away. He spots it too, and you both walk towards it.

“Well, I do have a sweet tooth for indeed some sweet things. For example, a cutie like you,” he flirts, tilting his head to the side to look at you up and down better. You roll your eyes at his antics.

“Are you always like that ?” you scoff playfully, not buying one second of what he says.

“Like what ?” he asks as he makes you sit down next to him, and he opens the tupperware, his arm leaving your shoulder and making you shiver at his warmth disappearing.

“Flirty.”

“Well, we can say that. But you are an exception,” he corrects, leaning against the bench and inhaling the scent of the freshly baked sweets. He licks his pink lips. They looked plump, kissable even.

“Yeah, right….” you snap back of your unholy thoughts, and say that ironically.

“I’m being for real here,” he whines, facing you and leaning his head towards yours, blue eyes boring into yours.

“Ok, Gojo. Instead of talking, try a cookie,” you roll your eyes and grab one of your bakings.

“Boss me around more, I like it,” he flirts, and maybe he wasn’t really joking when he said that. Who knows ?

You shove a cookie in his mouth the moment he gets too close, making him have a startled face, but then he munches on the sweet and his cheeks turn pink. He swallows thickly, eyes opening wider as he takes the cookie in between his fingers.

“I think I just tasted heaven,” he whispers, before literally gulping down in flashing light speed the remaining. You quickly grab one for yourself in the box, scared he would eat everything before you could even have the chance to taste your own baking.

“Don’t exaggerate too much, but welcome, I guess ?” you answer slightly flustered by his praising, but that only makes him smile even more.

“Believe me when I say that ! I’m ready to pay you everyday to have those again !” he exclaims when grabbing you by the shoulders while you bite on your food.

“Wow- really ?”

“Or instead I should marry you, and then, I’ll be able to enjoy all for myself your baking…” he continues, thoughtful as he leans closer, eyes darting towards your lips that had some leftover crumbs. You almost choke on your bite, but quickly remind yourself that this is Gojo saying that, and he obviously wasn’t being serious here, only joking around like usual.

“You’re greedy like that ?”

“I am greedy if it’s you, yeah,” he corrects, fingers slightly squeezing your shoulders, making you look at him.

“Maybe you should marry a cake, that would be easier,” you joke, brushing off his flirting.

“And eat my cake as soon as I reach the wedding night ? I would be too sad once I’m done and seeing that nothing is left… No, I prefer to eat you out and then you can bake me sweets every day-” he starts to say, cocky smirk plastered on his face, and your blood rushes towards your face and heat possesses all your body at the mention of being eating out by Gojo Satoru himself.

“Whaaaa, shut up !” you directly stop him by slamming your hand against his mouth to not let him continue his quite perverted comment. He really had no single boundaries when talking. That was crazy, and still very new to you. Your heart was hammering against your chest, trying to ignore the images of having sex with him on an imaginary wedding night popping in your mind.

Satoru easily brings back your hand down by holding your wrist, not after licking your skin teasingly. You do a disgusted face, screaming a “ewwww” loudly, and whipping his saliva on his own shirt. He can’t help but laugh strongly at your distorted facial features and how bothered you looked, in all its meanings.

“What ? I’m just saying.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and that makes you roll your eyes again, which can’t help but make him grin even more.

“Eat your cookies or I’m taking them back,” you threaten him, trying to grab the box but he quickly withdraws it away from your reach, protecting it like a sacred treasure. He then stares at you, sliding down at your lips, before using his thumb to wipe some crumbs of chocolate at the corner of your mouth. He brings it to his own lips, sucking on it, giving you a cheeky smirk in return of your shocked face.

“You told me to eat your cookies, there were some leftovers on your face. I couldn’t let it go to waste like that,” he justifies himself, grabbing another cookie and biting on it as if he did nothing wrong.

“You’re gross.”

“And you’re cute,” he retorts smoothly, winking at you.

“Stop being a flirt for a second !”

“No can do.”

You stayed firm on your ground that Gojo Satoru was out of your league. But, because there is always a but… Maybe it didn’t feel so wrong to sometimes let yourself hope for even something tiny with him ? It couldn’t hurt that much, right ?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

In the quietness of your apartment, you just finished gathering your things in your bag for the next day. As you enter the bathroom, starting your skincare routine, it’s when someone rings on the doorbell. Curious, you didn’t expect anyone. Maybe it was for Shoko ? You quickly put on some shorts, and walk towards the entrance. The moment you open the door, you are met with Satoru standing in front of you. He was totally drenched in water. Hair sticking to his forehead, clothes glued to his frame, scandalously showing the lines of his body. You realize that outside it was raining, quite a lot, meaning he probably didn’t have any umbrella right now, and it’s for that he was in this both pathetic and sexy state.

“Gojo ? What the- you’re soaked !” you exclaim and step to the side to let him enter the warmth and the dry air of your home. He smiles and leans down a bit to enter, being slightly too tall or else he would bump his head. You only noticed that now, staring at his figure.

“Forgot my umbrella. I was outside with friends, and it started to rain like a bitch. Shoko’s place was close to where I was, so I came to shelter here until it would calm down,” he explained, hand whipping his wet hair backwards, leaving his pretty face bare. Some pearls of rain roll down his cheeks, and you look at one falling on his pale skin. He catches you staring, so you directly turn around to walk towards the living room.

“Shoko is not here, she went to drink with her classmates at a bar. She’ll be back later,” you say.

“She wouldn’t mind if I stayed. Do you mind ?” he asks, taking off his shoes and walking towards where you are.

“I pity you. So you can stay until the rain stops,” you accept, smirking at your own teasing and he scoffs, grinning wider.

“How thoughtful of you, I'll always remember this beautiful act of kindness !”

“Instead of joking around, come in the bathroom, I'll give you a towel so you can dry yourself,” you sigh, answering him, letting out a small laugh to his over exaggerated reaction. He raises his eyebrows and follows you not without saying a “yes ma’am”.

As you enter back the bathroom, the music that was playing on your phone on the sink earlier is still on. You hum, and grab a towel before giving it to Satoru. He thanks you, and while he starts to wipe his drenched hair, you resume back your skincare routine. The quietness of the room is filled by the songs of your playlist in the background.

“Skincare ? Wait, lemme guess, is this…a mositruze ?” he asks, breaking the silence as he leans towards you.

“A moisturizer, Gojo. I don’t even know what you pronounced,” you chuckle, correcting him, and then apply the cream while gazing at him in the mirror. You see how he stares at the white texture that dissolves into your face. And oh, it was so unfair how his skin was flawless and just perfect, wishing you could have the same.

“It’s the same. The name is too complicated,” he grunts, pouting slightly as now he finishes drying his hair, starting to take off his shirt. You don’t answer at first, eyes glued to his sticky torso getting revealed, and the way he looked like he got sculpted by Apollo himself. Shit, the man was hot as hell. How could he be smart, funny, and handsome all at the same time ?! He really was out of your league, that’s what you were saying to yourself. Not like you thought you had any chance, anyways. Satoru catches you staring, obviously, malice in his eyes. It’s not like he didn’t do it on purpose, getting half nude, just for you to look at.

“You’re just dumb,” you finally end up answering, snapping back to your skincare instead of his gorgeous muscles that move while he pats the towel on his fair skin. You decide to apply lip balm to finish your routine. Satoru stares, so much, at your pretty glossed lips, rubbing them together to smudge evenly the product. He licks his own unconsciously.

“And now, it’s lip balm. I know that, I use it too. See ? I’m not dumb,” he suddenly says, getting closer to your face. He looks like he wants your approbation, like a puppy to his owner. That made you smile a little.

“Wow, bravo, you indeed are smarter than you made me think,” you joke, because you knew how Satoru was so so so smart, no matter how goofy he acted.

“Can I apply some ?” he asks innocently now after smirking at your teasing, and you raise an eyebrow before you give him the chapstick. He shakes his head, and he points at his lips.

“Nuh-uh”, he refuses, and you frown.

“I’m not applying it for you like a baby,” you complain, feeling like dealing with a child, or a spoiled princess. He sighs, disappointed.

“Then smooch your lips with mine,” he proposes as if it was the smartest thing ever. It wasn’t for you, but for Satoru it was, because he would have the perfect reason to kiss you. Even if for a second, hidden behind the lip balm. He just wanted a taste, a little, a very tiny one. Nothing too mean, really. You can’t help but fluster slightly at his proposition, and how bold it was, and smooth, very smooth. Satoru really knew how to make women dance in the palm of his hands, and how to charm them.

“Gojo, seriously ?” you deadpan, a bit on your guard. Even though you wanted it, no matter how innocent it was, to kiss him to share your lip balm, you felt like you didn’t deserve a kiss from someone like him. Or that he was just playing around, making your heart throb of insecurity for a second. In your mind, he didn’t really want to kiss you. Why would he, anyways ? It was just to joke, to tease you, nothing he really wanted aside for his ego.

“Yep, very serious. Why ? It’s just a smooch ! And since you don’t want to apply the lip balm for me…” he continues, saying ‘smooch’ instead of ‘kiss’, to make you comply more easily. He was doing his stupid puppy eyes, batting his long white lashes at you. You falter. Fuck, alright, why not doing it ? It’s maybe the only chance for you to kiss a Greek God like him, a once in a lifetime opportunity. Even if he probably was just joking, and didn’t really care about you. All that for chapstick… damn.

“Alright,” you sigh, acting like you didn’t care. Probably to protect yourself from disappointment.

Satoru smiles as if he just won the lottery, and his warm hand wraps around your waist, bringing you closer. That makes you shiver head to toe, and his naked torso presses against yours. You try to not look at it, ogling his chest. His other hand slides on your cheek, and suddenly it looks like it’s not just a smooch, but a serious kiss happening. Your heart hammers loudly, his face getting closer, and you get lost in the pool of his eyes.

You don’t have time to think that his soft lips press against yours oh so sweetly. Your eyelids flutter, leaning into the kiss, mouth rubbing together to smudge the balm. Fuck, it tasted sweet, thinks Satoru. His ears turn red, feeling like he ascended heaven just by kissing your lips, even if it lasted shortly. The seconds linger, maybe lingering too long for what it was supposed to be, and he finally steps back. He presses his lips together, and hums. You try to act normal, as if this simple touch wasn’t making your stomach turn around.

“Hmm, cherry flavored,” he says, looking back at you.

“Want to taste ?... Sorry, that was a line from the Shreck movie, you know, Prince Charming,” you first suddenly reply to change the subject, before cringing at yourself and laughing nervously at the joke you made. But Satoru explodes with laughter, and your mouth twitches in a smile, realizing you didn’t make the atmosphere awkward as you originally thought.

“I love Shreck, what do you mean ?! Of course I know this line of Prince Charming !” he exclaims, a glint in his eye.

“Here I thought I would be embarrassing myself if you didn’t get the reference,” you chuckle, shaking your head, but then realize that his hand is still on your waist while he gets back closer.

“Nah. Wanna be my muffin cake ?” he teases, reciting the nickname Prince charming says to Fiona, and God, that makes you laugh too.

“Maybe. You know, you really remind me of him. Kinda acting like a diva, saying weird ass nicknames, always charming…” you start to tease, pushing his hand away when he gets even closer asking that question, and he pouts. But then his ears almost perk up, and he leans against the sink, crossing his arm over his still naked chest and tilts his head on the side.

“Sooo you think I’m charming ?” he more like states instead of asks. Him and his stupid grin. And Satoru really wanted an answer, because you felt like a mystery to him, one that he enjoyed discovering a little more every time you two met.

“Don’t fool me, you already know that you are, Gojo,” you roll your eyes saying that, facing him, and then look at yourself in the mirror. He nudges you.

“So you agree ?”

“Ugh, yes, I mean it’s not the biggest news of the year !” you explain yourself, rolling your eyes at his obnoxious insistence to hear you say it. But can you blame him ? His heart fluttered when you said yes, as if he got complimented in the best way possible. But to be honest, it was just because it was you.

“I prefer that,” he grins, looking at your face, and you ignore him as you hum the music of your playlist, being one of your favorite songs to dance on. He stares at you intrigued.

“Do you know how to dance to this song ?” he asks.

“Uh, I-” you start to answer surprised, but then he suddenly grabs your hand and makes you sway towards him, fingers sliding back on your waist. He raises an eyebrow.

“Let’s dance !” he smiles, and you can’t help but want to, after all, soon the beat was about to drop. And with the kiss, you warmed up to him, feeling bolder. So you laugh, and he can’t help but soften, before making you move against him, and then makes you twirl.

“Alright alright-” you get cut off by your own giggle, and he drinks up your voice.

He is listening to you singing the lyrics, and you start to lead the improvised dance, not really caring if you were dancing good or bad, because Satoru just managed to make you have fun. He keeps you close, and sometimes acts on purpose dramatically, twirling you again and again, and then making you almost fall before catching you back in his arms, making you gasp and laugh harder with excitement and adrenaline. Satoru really made you dance in the palm of his hand. He had this way of making you falter and indulge his antics, wanting to follow everything he proposes and just have fun with him. You even forgot your own insecurities.

He matches your steps, and the swing of your hips, gluing his to yours when needed, and each time he did, it made you feel incredibly hotter. A tension was building up. You never had thought one day that you would be dancing in your bathroom with Gojo Satoru, but here you were. And God, how amusing it felt, as if the two of you were kids having fun dancing together. Surprisingly, he knows some of the lyrics, and sings them with you, wiggling his eyebrows when you give him a look.

The moment the music stops, he makes you lean backwards, almost touching the ground, but keeps you firmly in his arms. You catch back your breath, incredibly close, exhales mingling together. You can’t help but laugh with him. His face was lightened up with so much joy, and yours too, not realizing how this simple moment just made him fall for you even more.

Satoru couldn’t help but want to scream on top of a rooftop, and yap to Suguru everything that happened right now. How he managed to kiss you (even if it was for a lip balm), and then dance with you and make you laugh so much. It’s as if he won a battle. Being successful in his quest of conquering your heart.

The rest of the evening, Satoru stayed, his clothes already long dry, and the rain forgotten, but that wasn’t an excuse anymore. He only went back home when Shoko came back, leaving a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before.

It almost scared you how he slowly started to creep inside your heart.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Friday night. You just were on your way back home after hanging out with your friends at a bar. It was around 2 am, the night long up your head. You walk faster and enter the elevator, pressing the button of your floor. As you wait, you can’t help but have your thoughts drifting back to a certain white haired man.

You felt like you kept bumping into him this past weeks, and how he slowly started to hang out more and more at Shoko’s (your) place, even without Suguru to tail behind. You fluster at what happened last time, with the kiss and the whole dance in the bathroom. It was sweet, and you couldn’t lie about how much you had fun with him that night. He even stayed longer than you both expected, making you wonder if you could consider him as your friend now, or still only as Shoko’s friend.

You sigh, and take your keys to open the door of your shared apartment. Tired, you kick off your shoes, and then put down your jacket and bag. As you walk towards the living room, you gasp and jump slightly of surprise when you see the cause of all your heart problems laying on the couch.

“Gojo ?” you ask, and he lifts his head lazily while he is scrolling down on his phone. He smiles when his eyes meet yours.

“Y/n, you’re back ?”

“Where is Shoko ?” you question as you go wash your hands in the kitchen, and feel his gaze on you as he stretches like a cat.

“Sleeping in her room, so instead I stay on the couch,” he explains as you dry your hands, glancing at him, before entering the living room. He was wearing grey sweatpants that were quite low on his hips, dangerously low, even. Satoru had a plain white shirt, but tight enough to show his delicious muscles. Wow, ok, you should stop drooling for a second.

“You stay for the night ?” you continue asking, trying to distract yourself from your unholy thoughts. He passes his hand in his disheveled hair, looking quite tired.

“Yup.”

“Sleeping on this couch is hell, you will have a horrible night. And you are too tall for it too,” you comment, nose scrunching as you make a face of discomfort at the idea of him sleeping there. His legs were indeed dangling off the couch, way too big for laying on this.

“Well, where else am I supposed to sleep ? Shoko doesn’t let me even approach her bedroom, as if i’ll mess up everything or I don’t know what she thinks will happen,” he scoffed, pouting at Shoko’s behavior towards him, treating Satoru like a disaster. He then turned his head towards you as you sat on the remaining space next to his hips.

“You can sleep on my bed, I’ll take the couch,” you propose, wanting to be nice and mostly feeling bad for him.

“Seriously ? And you on the couch ? No way,” he huffs, and shakes his head adamant on thinking it was ridiculous. You frown, surprised.

“I’m being nice here. Take my bed,” you retort.

“Not without you in it,” he corrects, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, thinking he was flirting around again. But you were too tired for this.

“In your dreams.”

“What ? No. I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m serious here, y/n. You said the couch is uncomfortable. If I’m cozy in your bed and you are not, it just feels wrong. So either we sleep together in your room, or I sleep on the couch. Period,” he says more firmly, and it’s the first time you see him actually showing a rather serious expression. You swallow your saliva, and then think about it.

Sleeping with Gojo Satoru ? In the same bed ? What if people learnt about it and would start rumors ? No. It would be just sleeping. But you couldn’t help your beating heart of apprehension. What if he tried something ? What would you do ? Would he treat you like a one night stand, just someone to fool around with ? You didn’t want that, at all. You couldn’t even know if he would. There were so many rumors going on about him, that he was a womanizer, sleeping with no strings attached, and all this stuff. And it was true that he was charming, and from what you saw, he knew how to flirt. But you saw too how he just was a nerd and loser in disguise, and you don’t think it in the bad way, more like how cute and surprising it was.

So would he really try something ? But wait. Why would he even try something with you ? No, there would be no single chances. The kiss from last time was just a bold move, nothing more. Gojo Satoru was way out of your league, there was no reason why he would see you differently than just Shoko’s roommate. Maybe a friend, but nothing above.

“So ?” he asks again, snapping you back from your train of thoughts. You bat your lashes a second, and then remind yourself that he was just right next to you, waiting for an answer. He was up on his elbows now, the muscles of his arms flexing while he was doing so. He really was fit… You stare at it then back at his pretty face.

“Alright, let’s do that. Let’s hope my bed is big enough for two,” you end up answering after taking a deep breath.

“We’ll make it fit, don’t worry cutie,” he grins at your acceptance, and stands back up on his whole height, looming over you.

Some minutes later, you go out of the bathroom after having finished putting yourself in your pajamas and washing up from the hangout you had earlier. Satoru was already laying in your bed, waiting for you. He puts down his phone when he sees you, and damn, it felt so weird seeing him in your bedroom, even more laying on your bed. You follow suit and slip under the covers on the other side, brushing against him as there wasn’t enough space to have some personal intimacy. Great…

“We’re pretty squeezed,” you comment, chuckling as you try to lighten the mood by doing your best to get comfortable, ignoring how his hot body is right next to you.

“Eh, I don’t mind. You’re warm, I was cold, perfect match I would say, don’t you think ?” He smiles, laying on his side to look at you, blue orbs shining in the dim light of the moon behind you.

“You keep saying we are the perfect match,” you comment, raising an eyebrow.

“Because we are,” he retorts, looking right back at you.

“Ah, really now ?” You grin.

“What ? It’s true ! We both don’t do relationships, we danced together, we do a great team on mario kart, we love Shreck, you bake cookies, I eat them, you tell me to shut up, I do, and you’re warm, I was feeling cold. Perfect, I’m saying. Perfect !” he insists, enumerating some stupid reasons, and you can’t help but laugh at his silliness.

“It doesn’t take you much for you to feel like it’s a perfect match,” you tease.

“You’re just the one, sweetie. What can I say ?” he answers, giving you his flirty smirk, the one that you just knew so well.

“Alright Mr Prince Charming, good night,” you roll your eyes at his joke, smiling slightly, and turn around, back facing him.

“Good night, y/n,” he ends up whispering after some seconds of silence. It’s back quiet, and you couldn’t help but feel his torso brushing against you. You both were so close, it was flustering you. Satoru was still awake, eyes looking at the back of your head. His heart was hammering in his chest, not believing that he was sleeping with you. It was a bold move he did earlier, and God, he didn’t expect you to accept at all. But here he was.

Satoru stays silent, listening to your soft breathing. His body is aching to get closer, and it wouldn’t take much, because of how already close you both were. His limbs, without thinking, move on their own. His strong arm wraps around your stomach, dragging you against his chiseled torso. You gasp, and turn your head to look at him surprised.

“Told you, I’m cold, you’re warm. And I didn’t know where to put my arm…” he justifies himself. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed this position, the way his body molded against yours was oddly satisfying and comforting. And it was from long ago that you had the chance to have such closeness with someone. Anyways, you were too tired to think more into it. Satoru was just being Satoru, right now… Thats’ what you were saying to yourself.

“If you say so,” you end up answering, voice more quiet than you intended. You turn back, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax in his arms. Satoru couldn’t help but think how right it felt, this position with you, as if your bodies were made for complimenting each other. His hand presses your stomach, and his nose bumps against your nape, soft breath caressing your skin.

All the maelstrom of constant thoughts in Satoru’s mind just shutted off, and how good it felt to be calm. His mind was always racing, all the time, never stopping. But right now he just found peace in the comfort of your body against his, in having you in his arms.

Not falling for you was impossible now. Satoru realised that he was long lost, his at first silly curiosity and crush evolved into something much bigger. Something he would have never thought of, because Gojo Satoru doesn’t do relationships, or romantic feelings. But here he was, and it was scary. But maybe it was worth it, to go against his fear, if it was with you.

He shifts, his hips pressing against your lower back, legs crouching behind yours. For once, Satoru fell asleep quickly. Normally an impossible task. He could get used to this.

In the morning, before Shoko left early for classes, she saw Satoru wasn’t in the living room. But when she went to check on you, what a surprise to see you both glued to each other. She couldn’t help but take a picture and send it to Suguru, and then on both Satoru’s and your phone. It was a surprise too, when you opened your phone later this morning.

And for Satoru, he had the best sleep of his life, bed hair and groggy voice when waking up next to you. The only embarrassment was his morning boner that was poking against your ass, and he never turned red as quickly as before. He went rushing to the shower to deal with his little problem and to obviously wash himself, leaving you half asleep in the bed, not really understanding what just happened. Let’s say that morning he was happy to wake up next to you.

When he came back freshly washed, he acted like nothing happened, and you quickly forgot about it, getting ready too for your day.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Some weeks passed, and receiving texts from Gojo, or either bumping into him and ending up being dragged by him to do whatever activity or conversation, became your routine. You grew to see him as a friend, and against your will, your crush kept getting bigger and bigger each passing moment. Yet, you always kept boundaries and some wall in between the two of you, wanting to protect your heart and knowing Satoru would never be interested in you. Each time he flirted with you, you saw it only as him joking, and whenever he was intimately close, you brushed it off as normal behavior from his clingy self.

You were getting ready for a party, doing your makeup in front of the mirror’s sink in the bathroom next to Shoko. She literally forced you to come, wanting you to hang out with her and her group of friends. So here you were, doing the final touches on your face and hair. You rub your lips together before giving one last glance at the mirror, and at your roommate too.

“Ohhhh, looking sexy here ! They will all be head over heels, I’m telling you,” she exclaims, winking at you as she part her mouth to apply a deep red lipstick.

“Come on, they will not. But thank you, girl,” you chuckle not without rolling your eyes, looking at her up and down. She really was pretty, her outfit complimenting her curves.

“Gojo will faint when seeing you dressed like that,” she comments, giving you a knowing look that makes you scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you shake your head, adjusting your clothes and then putting on your favorite perfume for the occasion.

“He’s always flirting with you, to the point it’s kinda pathetic how much he wants you,” she continues, turning around to face you.

“Shut up. He’s just being himself. He always acts flirty, you know that,” you insist, and she sighs. But you were sure of yourself. Shoko was just seeing too much into it. Satoru wasn’t the type to settle down for a relationship, he told you that the first time you both met. Plus, he had a lot of better choices around him.

“Ahhh, if you say so…” You were a lost case, that’s what she was thinking.

Some minutes later, you both were walking outside your shared apartment. It was a bit cold outside, even more so with your outfit. But you fought against the wind, deciding your style would be over comfortability for tonight. The party was at a nightclub, one that Shoko used to go with her classmates and friends. After walking down the streets of Tokyo, you both arrive at your destination. The loud music bangs from the walls, and you see standing in front of the nightclub a group of persons that you recognize as people Shoko personally knows. Among them, there were familiar faces, as well as Satoru’s and Suguru’s. When you arrive, you can’t help but feel the burning gaze of Gojo right on you, his eyes siding you up and down. It was the first time he saw you wearing quite sexier clothes, and you suddenly felt overly aware of yourself.

Not knowing why, feeling embarrassed, you greet Suguru first. He grins at you, purple eyes staring down at you.

“You look lovely tonight, y/n,” he compliments you, and you fluster slightly at his smooth voice.

“Thank’s, you do too. Did you guys wait long for us to arrive ?” you ask, smiling at him as he lazily leans against the wall, hands in pocket and smiling at you.

“No, Satoru was late too, so we barely arrived before you,” he explains. You nod, and Suguru shows with his chin the entrance.

“You look like you’ll be cold, maybe you should enter first,” he states more softly, stepping closer by your side, leaving the wall.

“True, but Shoko said she would smoke one before entering, so…” you answer vaguely, looking at her talking with Gojo and Utahime. You feel his gaze on you the moment you glance in their direction, and your eyes meet for a second before you quickly look back to Geto.

“Let me guess… You don’t want to enter it alone ?” the black haired male laughs.

“Not really, ahah,” you wonder how he realized. I mean, it was quite obvious at the way you shifted slightly, a glint of uncomfortability in your eyes.

“I can come with you then,” he proposes.

“Really ?” you ask surprised, eyes opening wider.

“Of course. So come on, let’s go,” he muses as he slides his hand on the small of your back. But then barely some seconds later, another arm swings around your waist and makes you hit the side of someone.

“I don’t think so… Suguru, Shoko asked you to come and give her your lighter. So don’t worry, I’ll go in first with y/n,” suddenly interferes Satoru, giving a knowing look to Suguru as if they could communicate by telepathy, making you wonder what was happening. Suguru takes off his hand and backs down.

“Hmmm, really ? Alright,” he says slily, smirking before leaving the two of you alone. You don’t know why, but you felt a tension growing inside of you. You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Satoru makes you follow him.

“I’m hurt, you didn’t even greet me,” he pouts, giving you puppy eyes. You end up laughing, easing the atmosphere, and nudging him.

“Hello Gojo. You didn’t need to do this, you know ?”

“I had my reasons,” he answers vaguely, and then after some seconds, the man that was keeping the entry lets you both enter after eying you down. The sound of the bass of the night club vibrates in your body, the atmosphere englobing the two of you. You look around, and Satoru brings you closer, saying it was for you to not get lost in this sea of people dancing and ordering drinks. It was hot inside, and God, it almost felt sticky. You already felt drunk from all this whole mood shifting all around you.

“Wanna go grab a drink ?” you suddenly feel the lips of Satoru on your ears, so you could hear him better. But fuck, the way his hand was still around your waist and his head lowered to allow you to listen to him made him look incredibly sexy right now. You look up slowly at his eyes, your faces quite closer than the usual.

“Yeah, I hope it’s not too expensive though,” you answer loudly as well, and he raises his eyebrow, before spotting the bar thanks to his tall height and then brings you towards it.

“As if I would let you pay. Nah, I’m paying sweetheart.” You didn’t know if you heard him well, but you didn’t answer as you both arrived in front of the counter. He keeps you at arm length, and you both take your order. He doesn’t take alcohol, and you look at him surprised as you expected him to do the contrary.

“What ? I hate the taste of alcohol, that shit is sour,” he exclaims, and you laugh as you lean towards the counter while the barman prepares the drink.

“I’m not judging you, but… Just say you don’t hold your liquor,” you tease. He scoffs as if you just said the stupidest thing ever.

“Excuse me ? I’m not a lightweight !”

“That’s not what Shoko told me…” you whisper, and even if the music was loud, Satoru heard it very well. He whispers ‘traitor’. He pinches your side, and you are now facing his smug face. At the same time you both get the drinks. As you were ready to take your credit card, Satoru stops you by grabbing your wrist and shows off his… black card ?! You open wider your eyes as he pays, shocked to see him having this kind of card. And damn, it kinda makes sense as you realize all the designer clothes he owned.

“Gojo, I could have paid for myself !” you express, but he just rolls his eyes.

“Never. Just say thank you, y/n,” he answers, bringing his glass higher. You fluster, and toast your glass with his own before gulping down your own drink.

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing. Satoru stares at you while humming, the dim light of the club caressing your skin so beautifully and complimenting your eyes. He gets entranced for a second, and the way he was looking at you made you wonder why he was doing so. At the same time, a tall and attractive woman approached the two of you. You glance at her, but then she puts her hand on the arm of Satoru.

“Hey handsome, you’re sweet. With my friends we wondered if you wanted to come have fun with us, we ordered some champagne at our table,” she muses, pointing at the table meters away surrounded by a bunch of cute girls. You swallow your saliva as she does some fuck me eyes to Satoru, and it even charmed you as well.

Wow, she really looked pretty, and hot as hell, that you knew if she asked you, you would have followed her. But then you look back at the white haired male, and you can’t help but feel your stomach twisting painfully at the idea of him going with them. But it would only be natural, right ? Who in their right mind would refuse such a proposition from a beauty like her ? So, you step back unconsciously to give him some free room to answer, bracing yourself to be left alone.

“Awwww, sorry, I don’t like alcohol,” he answers, flashing her a charming apologetic smile, before glancing at you at the corner of his eye and noticing how you stepped away and were looking around acting unbothered.

“Oh, well, we still can make it work-” she doesn’t back down, and you had to give her that. But Satoru steps towards you and then brings you towards him, putting your back against his chest and then you feel his lips suddenly on your neck which makes you shiver head to toe. He kisses it sensually, before lifting his head slightly.

“I’m busy with my girl,” he ends the discussion, and you don’t have the time to react or even answer that he drags you towards where people are dancing. You gasp, but he makes you swirl easily in the middle of the crowd, manhandling you like a doll.

“Gojo, what was that-”

“What was what ?” he feins innocence, and you give him a glare that he gladly drinks up before suddenly making you spin and fall in his arms, leaving you breathless.

“Don’t act dumb with me,” you struggle to answer at the way he makes you move on the dance floor, unable to hold back a laugh at how he twirls you around.

“I came here to have fun with you and the others, not some strangers,” he explains, shrugging, and then makes you go back straight on your feet. You can’t help but feel relieved, smiling at him.

“Then let’s have fun,” you smirk, and another song starts by the DJ. You swing your hips left and right at the tempo, feeling the music and looking at Satoru in the eyes. He bites his lower lip, bringing your ass against his crotch, and accompanying your moves.

You chuckle, singing the lyrics as you both move. It made you remember how you both danced in your bathroom weeks ago. The kiss comes back into mind, and you close your eyes a second as the chorus of the song resonates all around you. His hands hold firmly your waist, digging in your waist and the breath of his mouth caressing your neck. You didn’t know why, but you felt way more confident than usual. Maybe because being in a nightclub, meaning it was normal to dance closely to other people, including your friends, you didn’t mind getting way more bolder and intimate with Satoru. Surely he wouldn’t take it as you trying to charm him. I mean, it was the case, but that was a secret. You couldn’t let him know about your little crush, not wanting to go through an obvious rejection and humiliation from him.

“Reminds me of the dance we had in your bathroom,” he whispers in the crook of your ear, and you nod, smiling at him as you turn around and face him. You giggle, his hands still on your waist and keeping you close as you both continue to dance together. You swing your hands around his neck, and Satoru sings along with you, making you laugh at how much fun you had.

The lights flash all around you, sometimes making the white hair of Gojo glow in the darkness of the place. The beats of the songs vibrate on your skin, and you almost scream with him and the rest of the night club a famous chorus of a song. You can’t help but be unable to stop laughing and giggling, forgetting you came in the first place with Shoko and her friends, being in your own bubble with Satoru.

His hands slide dangerously down, bringing you even closer, if that was possible. You bat your lashes, and his head leans towards you as he licks his lips. His eyes never leave yours, and the way your mouth moves each time you sing the lyrics, he can’t stop looking at your lips and tongue. He grins, both singing at the same time, hips rolling against each other. One of his hands grabs your ass, and at first startled, you don’t complain one bit, tilting your head to the side and continuing to dance. You started to be hot, giving a glance to the side where you could see Shoko and Utahime dancing together meters away. You open your eyes wide when you suddenly see them kiss without a care in the world.

You nudge Gojo, making him look.

“What ? You didn’t know ? They are dating,” he laughs, saying that is if it was basic facts. Basic facts that you didn’t have. Your mouth is hanging low, and you chuckle as you look back at his mischievous eyes.

“She never told me ! What ?”

“She told me she thought you knew when Utahime came to sleep once at your shared apartment,” he said in your ear so you could hear him well. You try to recall, and remember her indeed coming, and yes they were touchy, but you didn’t stay long with them as you had to study for exams in your room. But now, it actually made sense to you. They indeed looked very close, and she often told you she was going outside with her.

“I didn’t notice !” you exclaim, going on your tiptoes to say that in his ear as well. He shrugs, making you turn around so you could be back against chest, hands gripping your stomach.

“You’ll ask here later,” he whispers, wanting to keep your mind tracked on him instead.

You roll your eyes, and continue to dance against him. Your body grew hotter each time his hips rolled against your butt, lips brushing on your neck, hands sliding your body and lingering on your skin. To the point you wondered how far it would go, and if this dance in between two friends wasn’t that innocent anymore.

“Let’s get some fresh air,” he says in your ear, looking at you through half lidded eyes. Satoru felt like he would snap at any moment and surely act on his needs and wants. He tried to keep a cool head, but the way your body danced so tantalizingly against him for the past 20 minutes made him grow needy and impatient for more. Fuck, a bit more and he would have a massive boner that would be impossible to hide.

You accept, and he brings you with him outside. The cool air wakes up your senses, leaving the dim lights and heavy atmosphere. He leans against the wall, passing his hand in his hair and eyes never stopping to look at you. You were just so clueless of his craving for you that it was infuriating. Why were you so adamant on not seeing all the hints he kept dropping here and there ? Did he have to be more direct ? He never met someone as blind as you before, it was incredible but annoying at the same time.

“You okay ?” you ask concerned, stepping closer.

“Hmm, just got overwhelmed for a second here,” he answers vaguely. He couldn’t say he was getting way too drunk of you. Or wait, maybe he should.

“You should have told me, Gojo, we could have-”

“Satoru,” he interrupts you suddenly.

“What ?” you ask confused.

“Satoru. Stop calling me Gojo, y/n. Call me by my name,” he corrects, taking your hand and making you step closer to him.

“Alright, S… hum, Satoru,” it felt weird pronouncing his name that just rolled down your tongue like honey. And damn, Satoru just got blessed by the Gods the moment he heard it finally be pronounced by your pretty voice and lips. He waited for you to call him like that by yourself, but you always kept that invisible barrier, never saying it. He got tired of it. Wanting for you to just say it finally.

“You know, Y/n, I’m tired of waiting,” he starts to say, thumb caressing your hand up and down. You look at it, heart beating faster and wondering why he was doing that and what he was meaning exactly.

“Waiting for what, Satoru ?”

“You’re so dense sometimes, y/n. And that makes me mad,” he sighs, blue eyes boring into yours so intensely that it makes your knees falter.

“Mad ? I did nothing wrong,” you defend yourself, frowning.

“Oh yes, you did,” he whispers, bringing you even closer, his free hand sliding on your cheek and tilting your face to the side.

“Satoru-” you start to say, surprised by his proximity.

“Y/n…” he cuts you, almost chanting your name like a goddamn prayer before smashing his lips against yours. You open your eyes wide the moment his lips move and he kisses you like a starved man. His hand cradles your face, bringing you intimately closer, his other fingers intertwined with yours. God, he dreamt about kissing you again since the moment he tasted heavens weeks ago.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a moan of surprise. He swallows it, parting your lips to have access to your mouth, tongue caressing yours. Fuck him, you tasted so sweet it was addicting. His hips press against yours, rubbing slightly and making you lose your mind. You answer the kiss, fingers wrapping in his hair and tugging on it to deepen whatever was happening.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Heart bursting out of your chest. But Gojo Satoru was kissing you. And it wasn’t like the lip balm scene in the bathroom. This, right here, was a real kiss. One of pure pent up passion and craving, a need beyond the Gods. Satoru just wanted to devour you, and you were melting against him. The moment you parted to catch back your breath, he couldn’t stop and let you even be away for too long, that he kissed you again, again, and all over again until you lost track of time.

The kiss became messy, burning hot, wanting more. His hand that was on yours, lets it slide under your cloth. You shivered, his fingers cold on your skin. He trails on your thigh, centimeter by centimeter, before he gropes your ass. You moan, and he chuckles as he sucks on your lower lip before starting to kiss down your neck. God, were you dreaming right now ? What was happening was real ?

“You drove me crazy, y/n, so crazy. Did you realize that ?” he utters against your throat, mouth biting on your skin and you can’t help but let out a hiss of both pain and pleasure.

“Not at all-”

“Damn, you’re so clueless. But it’s cute,” he snarls before chuckling slightly, tongue darting to taste your skin, inhaling your bewitching scent at the same time. You didn’t know what to answer, still shocked by what was happening. He goes back to kissing you, seeing you won’t say anything else.

But then, some people are heard coming outside. Yet, Satoru doesn’t stop. You try to, but he was way too lost in the feeling of finally having you to himself, even if it was for a moment.

“Satoru- wait. People are coming out,” you try to say in between sloppy needy kisses.

“Let them see, then” he mutters against your lips.

You feel heat rushing in your lower abdomen, but you come back to your senses and hit the top of his head. He lifts his face, pouting as he massages it.

“Ouch, what was that for ?” he whines, trying to kiss you again. But you put your hand against his mouth to stop him.

“People are going to see us, I don’t want to make it a show,” you warn, trying to calm down your beating heart. Satoru raises his eyebrows, but then he kisses the inside of your hand, grabbing your wrist and looking at you through half lidded eyes.

“Let’s get back inside then,” he muses, giving one last tantalizing kiss on your pulsating point, and drags you behind him.

You follow him, still mind blocked by what happened just now. You pass by people, and Suguru joins Satoru. He still drags you with them, as the black haired male said that he, Shoko, Utahime and their other friends took a table to be able to drink all together. You came, sitting in between Satoru and Suguru, both giving each other a knowing look. Suguru grinned at you, in a way that made you think he knew what happened in between you and Satoru.

The following time spent, Satoru kept his arm around your waist, thumb caressing your skin while talking and joking around. You couldn’t help but be lost in thoughts, playing back in your mind the whole kiss, and whatever Satoru said to you. You started to overthink, wondering if it meant anything for him, or if it was just in the heat of the moment. You barely kept up with the conversation, and Gojo noticed it all.

He decided then, without warning, to scoop you in his arms in front of everyone and walk towards the dance floor, avoiding the people around that were moving.

“Satoru, what the hell ?” you exclaim, squirming, before he puts you back down on your feet.

“I wanted to dance with ya’. Don’t you recognize it ? It’s the song we danced to in your bathroom,” he says, and you blink, once, twice, before realizing. You were so lost in thoughts that you indeed didn’t recognize it at all. He really messed up your mind here.

“Oh- yeah, you’re right,” you say slightly nervously.

“Ah, don’t look at me like that, let’s dance !” he grins to ease the atmosphere and calm down your nerves, before twirling you around and not letting you have time to think in anything else rather than following his moves. Against your will, like last time weeks ago, you ended up bewitched, laughing back loudly with him, swinging in his arms.

The lingering touches were still here, and the rest of the night in his company made you wonder if whatever happened outside the bar was just your imagination, or not. Not long after, you barely remember what happened, only that you had fun, then got home, and fell on your bed half asleep like a dead body. Everything after this dance was blurry, aside from the pretty eyes of a certain someone.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

The next morning, when you woke up, you had a pounding headache. Water, you needed water. You groan, opening your eyes as you stand up from your bed and go to fetch a glass of water in the kitchen. As you walk slowly, still very tired from last night and barely remembering what happened after, you bump into Utahime that greets you.

“Hey y/n ! Slept well ?” she asks, taking her bag as Shoko arrives from behind and slides her arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. Right, you remember that Gojo told you they were dating.

“I feel like I slept for days… Are you guys going outside ?” you ask in a groggy and sleepy voice, entering the kitchen now and drinking water to calm down your thirst.

“Yeah, we go on a date. I’ll sleep at her house so don’t wait for me !” exclaims Shoko as she grabs the keys from the table at the entry, putting then her shoes. You wave at them, smiling softly as they kiss before closing the door behind them. You were so caught up in your studies session before, that you only realized now how obvious it was that they were dating.

You decide to go take a shower, feeling sweaty and gross. As you let the warm water roll down your muscles, your mind drifts back to the party, and the whole… makeout session with Satoru. You had so much fun, you couldn’t deny it. But you couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering what would happen next with Gojo. Was it just like that, with no strings attached, for him ? Did he regret kissing you ? What was he thinking now ? You were sure to not give yourself some high hopes, because why in the first place Gojo Satoru would be interested in more with you, when he made it clear that he didn’t do relationships ? And you still didn’t feel confident enough at the idea of him being genuinely interested. Yeah, it was maybe better like that. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

When you step out of the shower, your phone rings on the counter of the sink. You almost gasp when you realize it’s Gojo calling you. Your heart is hammering in your chest, nervous, and shaking hands grabbing the device. Maybe you should answer…

“Hello ?” you start, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Y/n, I thought you were dead,” the voice of Satoru is cheerful as always, and you feel like nothing of what happened yesterday was real.

“Almost,” you sigh, walking towards your room after having finished drying yourself.

“How are you feeling ?” he asks, some teasing in his voice.

“I just took a shower, so better. But yeah… tired,” you explain while searching for clean pajamas to wear today. You didn’t plan to go out, anyways.

“Too tired to see me ?” he muses, like a tentation. You blink, wondering if he wanted to meet you. If it was the case, you didn’t know if you had the courage to face him again.

“Well, not really ?” you chuckle slightly awkwardly.

“Perfect, I’m in front of your door. Open,” he suddenly says.

“What ?” you answer, not believing what he just said.

“I’m here, so open the door,” he repeats.

“Oh wait up- I’m putting some clothes !” you exclaim panicked, starting to rush towards your clean underwear to put it on.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind if you greeted me naked,” Satoru jokes. You roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you finish the call and once fully dressed, you walk towards the door.

Fuck, that wasn’t good. What will you say ? Will you be able to look at him in the eyes ? That would be too embarrassing ! You try to brace yourself, and after a deep breath, you open the door only to face a Satoru in grey sweatpants and wearing a tight black t-shirt. Holy shit. Why did he have to look hot as hell ?! Now, you tried to not look at his body instead of only his eyes.

“Hi,” you say, looking away as you turn around to let him enter.

“Why aren’t you looking at me ?” he directly asks as he closes the door behind him, having no tact. You gulp, and then look briefly at his eyes before continuing to walk.

“What are you talking about ? I looked at you,” you shrug nonchalantly.

Satoru grabs your arm and spins you around so you could face him.You felt his burning gaze on your face, and it made you twice nervous.

“Don’t ignore me,” he orders you, a slight pout in his voice

“I’m not ignoring you,” you retort, frowning.

“Then look at me,” he brings you closer, demanding. You groan, annoyed, and finally lift your eyes to meet his blue orbs. His pretty face directly reminded you of the hot kisses and very dangerously close dances you both shared. You start to fluster, feeling warm now.

“Here you go. Hey, what’s going on with you ? You didn’t answer my texts either,” he whines, meanwhile his thumb slowly caresses your arm as if it was natural to do so.

“Texts ? I didn’t- I was too tired to answer,” you explain, remembering seeing them when you woke up.

“Hmmm… right,” he whispers, narrowing his eyes as he lets your wrist go. You walk back towards your room, expecting him to follow you, without glancing back.

“Why are you here ?” you question, trying to sound as casual as possible. You sit on your bed, and Satoru just leans on your doorframe, crossing his arms against his chest and eying you up and down.

“I wanted to come see you, can’t I ?” he answers scoffing, as if what you asked was ridiculous. You felt a tension growing in between the two of you, and it made your stomach twist.

“Of course you can,” you reply more softly, slightly lifting your face to look at him.

“Y/n, did I do something wrong ?” he asks without waiting, squinting his eyes.

“What ? No-” you disagree and open wide your eyes, shaking your head at what he just said.

“Do you regret what happened yesterday ?” he cuts you in mid sentence, stepping towards you slowly.

“Uh ? I… No. I don’t. Why are you asking that ?” you chuckle nervously, looking around at your room as if it suddenly was more interesting. Why were you acting like that ? You take a deep breath, looking back at Satoru that is facing you now.

“You seem tense. Are you lying to me ?” he questions, both of his hands caging you on the bed on each side of your waist, face right in front of yours.

“I’m not,” you try to seem confident.

“Are you sure ?” he purrs, leaning towards you, minty breath mingling with yours.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“So if I kiss you right now, you wouldn’t mind ?” His lips are brushing against yours.

“... no,” you swallow hard, unable to move, flustered and suddenly just wanting him to kiss you senseless.

“Good,” he grins at your words before stepping back, leaving you breathless and beyond confused.

“Why didn’t you ? What ?” you frown, looking at him as his smile stretches. You suddenly felt like an idiot.

“So you want to kiss me again ? Didn’t take you for a greedy girl,” he taunts, one hand on his hip and eyeing down smugly. You bite your lower lip, pissed now and feeling ashamed.

“Satoru, don’t play with me,” you glare at him, and he chuckles. Ah, he longed for that stare again. Here it was, displayed just for him.

“Just answer me, sweetheart,” he continues, tapping his finger against his hip and you can’t help but look at his muscular arm, and then at his sweatpants hanging low, before stopping to his pretty pink lips. He angered you, making you be so confused, and pushing you in doing things or saying things you wouldn't usually.

“... Fine. So what. Yes, I want to kiss you ! What’s wrong about that ?” you snap, gesturing with your hands.

“Everything,” he drawls, boring his eyes into yours.

“What ?! Nothing is wrong ! You are the one that kissed me yesterday ! Why can’t I now ?” you retort, pissed, standing up from the bed to face him better.

“I never said that you couldn’t,” he shrugged, smiling wider when seeing you getting so worked up.

“But you make it sound like-” you trail, slightly feeling like you were trapped in this conversation, forced to admit things you never wanted to admit to him because of how embarrassing it would be.

“Y/n, the wrong thing here is that you want to kiss me, yet you don’t. What ? Are you a pussy ?” he mocks, leaning down to be at your height, making it so it could feel humiliating to you.

“I’m not a pussy,” you answer, clearly angry at him and yet knowing he did it on purpose, but God, it worked.

“Then prove it,” he whispers.

“I fucking hate you,” these are your last words before grabbing him by the collar and smashing your lips against his. He smiles through the kiss, immediately embracing you and wrapping his arms around you while tilting his face to the side to deepen the kiss. You move your lips together, all this pent up frustration getting poured in this intimate moment.

“You see when you want ?” he murmurs and he pushes you down on the mattress, climbing on top of you before kissing you back, tongues caressing each other. One of his hands supports him, and he slides his other fingers against your stomach, under your shirt. You shiver head to toes, both because of pleasure but panic too.

You wanted this, knowing it would lead to something more. But you were scared too. Scared that once you will surely sleep with him, he would leave you and it would stop here, being treated like a one night stand and nothing like you wished. Satoru directly senses the tension in your muscles and posture, slowly smoothing you as he kisses your neck.

“Relax…”

“Satoru,” you pronounce his name, your voice holding more emotions than you wanted. He looks up at you in the eyes, and tenderly, his hand caresses your cheek.

“You don’t want this, y/n ?” he asks more softly, slightly frowning.

“I do, it’s just…”

“I won’t force you into anything you don’t want,” he directly says firmly, to make sure you would understand the depths of his words. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Satoru, I’m sorry but, I don’t want to be just a one night stand, or sleeping like that without feelings. It’s not what I want with you, so let’s stop before it’s too late,” you finally admit, looking away ashamed. You were bracing yourself for whatever answer he would give you, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Y/n, who talked about no feelings ? I have feelings for you, and I don’t want it to be a one time thing. I thought I made it clear already, I’m not… using you or anything,” he whispers, his face betraying how hurt he is by your words, and his hand on your cheek tightens slightly.

“But- you said you don’t do relationships,” you whisper, somewhat feeling guilty.

“You said that too.”

“But I’m talking about you right now, Satoru. You said relationships weren’t for you, and with all these rumors going around… I really thought you wanted no strings attached and just did all this for fun and nothing more,” you retort, shaking your head.

“The rumors ? Look, y/n, I don’t know what rumors you heard about me, but I don’t care. I know what I said, and I was wrong. I completely, and utterly fell in love with you. Fuck, that’s scary to admit. But God, I love you, I truly do. Everything about you made me fall for you a little bit more each day. So no, me kissing you, me wanting this… is not just for ‘fun’, it’s because it’s you,” he finally admits, cheeks turning red as he looks into your eyes in hope of pouring all his feelings into your soul, to make you see how sincere and vulnerable he was right now.

“What ? You love me ? Me ??” you exclaim in disbelief.

“Yes, you. How can I say this without sounding creepy… Ugh. I’m not very good with all this, but I’m trying. Alright. Since Shoko talked about her new ‘roomate’, I was directly intrigued. She showed me pictures, and my first thought was how pretty you looked. And then she brought the cookies you made… You know I have a sweet tooth. When Shoko proposed to Suguru and me to come hang out at her house, I was excited to finally see you in real life. And since the day we officially met, I kept falling for you. I thought it was obvious, I was always flirting and hitting on you, but you kept brushing it off. I was serious all along, really. I know you see me as someone immature that never stops joking around, and yes, I am. But I swear, my feelings are no joke…” he explains, before chuckling awkwardly and passing his hand in his hair, “Wow, I talked a lot, sorry, ahah,” he finishes, looking at you embarrassed. And you are flabbergasted, mouth half open from shock. You swallow your saliva before gathering your thoughts.

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s... I am the one being sorry. I truly thought that someone like you would never be really interested in someone like me. I know it’s just my insecurities talking. But, it’s hard to believe it sometimes, you know ?”

“Someone like you ? You mean an angel ? A Goddess ? The love of my life ? My future wife ? My muffin cake ?” he says half jokingly half seriously, trying to make you smile. And here you were, chuckling slightly at his attempt of lightening the heavy mood.

“Satoru… don’t be dumb,” you whisper, while his thumb caresses your cheek tenderly, before softly pecking your lips without warning. You fluster at his gesture. It looked so natural.

“Uh-uh. I’m for real ! Come on baby, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and I’m being serious. You’re perfect the way you are, and yours truly is here to show you the truth about yourself,” he ends his sentence by kissing your lips more passionately this time.

You couldn’t believe it. Gojo Satoru was in love with you. And you both were kissing, intimately, on your bed, after his confession that you never in a billion years expected to receive aside from in your dreams. His fingers slide back on your stomach, and his tongue plays with yours as he puts his knee in between your soft thighs right against your core.

You let out a moan of surprise, and his thumb comes to gently touch the bottom of your breast, before grabbing it in his hand and kneeling the fat with care.

“So soft, you’re so perfect,” he compliments you, and that makes you feel gradually more at ease. His lips stay on yours, playing with your nipple that hardens in between his fingers. Your breaths are becoming ragged, and he takes off your shirt inch by inch. The moment you are half naked, you feel the coldness of the room in dark contrast from the warmth of your bodies. You shiver under his burning gaze, and Satoru licks his lips.

“You’re too pretty, I can’t believe my eyes,” he utters, and his lips trail down your neck in wet kisses before sucking on your breast. You let out a noise of satisfaction at his hot tongue licking your nipples, his knee still grinding softly against your clothed cunt. His fingers slowly approach your shorts and caress your inner thighs before teasing at the edge of the tissue.

“Can I ?” he asks, and you nod, eager to feel his touch. His digits go under your shorts, and touch the wet patch of your panties. He grins, clearly smugly, biting softly on your right nipple. His middle finger then presses on your clit, making you jolt, going on a circular motion.

“You’re so wet and I didn’t even go down all the way. How cute,” he teases, and you tug on his hair to make him shut up. He lets out a laugh, and surprises you by finally slipping his hand inside your panties, sliding down your dripping folds. His thumb goes to relieve your poor clit, while another finger caresses your entrance and carefully goes in. Your toes curl and you breathe faster, moaning.

“So so cute,” he whispers to himself, shamelessly staring at your facial expressions, loving the way your mouth parts when his digit curls inside you and hits your G-spot. He sucks on your neck, marking you up and inhaling your scent before letting his fingers move faster. He notices how your thighs start to shake every time he teases your sweet spot, and once he feels it’s enough, he slides another finger, thumb still caressing your clit.

He kisses you back, drinking your whimpers and ragged exhales, already drunk of your body when he barely tasted you. Talking about tasting, he was dying to see and lick your juices. With one hand, he gets rid of your shorts and panties, while the other is still bullying your insides. He moans when he sees your glistering cunt, all wet from pleasure, and he was just imagining himself sinking in between your thighs. He goes faster, until he brings you to the edge and makes you cum all over his hand. His lips are on yours all the way, while you are shaking and trying to gain back a normal level of consciousness. Once you ride down your high, Satoru brings to his face his dripping fingers.

“Ah… that would be a waste, don’t you think ?” he coos, and you look so embarrassed, eyes wide open.

“Satoru, it’s not-”

“Shee, easy. You know I have a sweet tooth,” he stops before sucking on his own digits, eyes almost rolling down at how tasty you are.

“Fuck, so sweet,” he moans, and you look at him through half lidded eyes. He made you feel so good, and you just wanted to make him feel good as well. You take all the courage you need, before kissing him back and tasting yourself. You slide your hands down his torso, caressing his abs through his slutty shirt, excited already. Slight hesitantly, your hand goes down his v-line before caressing his hard dick through his grey sweatpants. Satoru lets out a pleasured hiss, biting your lower lip.

“Y/n, pretty, if you go down here I don’t know if I will be able to keep it slow with you,” he says in between ragged breaths while you continue to caress his throbbing dick.

“I want to please you too,” you answer, looking at him in the eyes, sliding your hand in his boxer and taking in your hand his warm cock. Shit, you did it. You can’t believe it. But you don’t waste any time, and slowly your hand goes up and down, staring at the way he bobs his head backwards and how his adam apple moves.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, hair falling over his lashes as his eyes are glossy from pleasure. You continue, faster. You notice all the precum on his tip, and you didn’t know from where all this confidence came, but you went down on your knees. Satoru opens his eyes wide.

“Hey, sweetheart, no need to-” he cuts himself in a short breath as your sweet mouth kisses and gives a kitten lick on his tip. He swore if he didn’t have some self restraint, he would have cum all over your face.

“Holy shit,” he hisses, and you slowly use both of your hands and your mouth as you start to suck. His fingers go on your head, helping you in the movement, and his legs get more on a manspread. The scene was to die for : you, on your knees, in between his thighs, sucking his dick while Satoru looked like he was on cloud nine, flushed cheeks, lips parted and moaning. He takes off his shirt in one go and throws it on the side, his hands caressing you.

“Doing so good for me- yeah, just like that, fuck,” he babbles, and you continue up and down, following his lead. When he feels he is about to cum, he suddenly stops you and you look up at him surprised. He lifts you up and pins you on the bed, making you gasp.

“Sorry sweetie,” he whispers, kissing you, and then he slowly starts to open your thighs. You become self conscious, and try to close them. But the hands of Satoru are strong enough, and he gently pry them open back.

“Don’t be embarrassed, y/n, I already saw it all earlier,” he teases tenderly, before lifting your leg and kissing the inside with passion.

“I swear I’m trying to stay sane, but I’m going crazy at how hot you are, y/n. If it was only for me, I would have brought you to pound town starting the second we kissed yesterday,” he admits, biting your thigh before getting settled against your cunt. You can’t help but laugh slightly at him saying ‘pound town’, yet you can’t help but feel yourself grow hotter and hotter at his words.

“We were on public, so-”

“You think I cared about that ?” he stops you, eyes more serious than usual.

“Knowing how shameless you are, no,” you tease, and he grins back.

“Hmmm, you know me so well. I should reward you for that, what do you think ?” he taps his dick against your wet clit, and you shiver, back arching in response.

“Yeah… Do you have a condom ?” you ask, going on your elbows to look at it better.

“In the pocket of my sweatpants,” he answers nonchalantly as he takes the object out of his pocket like he said. He gives you the smile of a winner.

“Don’t tell me you brought it here knowing we would fuck ?!” you exclaim, and he makes you calm down as he rubs his dick against your cunt, you moan slightly.

“Uh… well, yeah ? Hey ! Don’t look at me like that ! And I wouldn’t call it ‘fuck’, but ‘make love’, okay ? And it was just in case, look, I did well,” he defends himself, opening it before slowly rolling down the condom around his cock. It was, to say the least, big. Would it even enter ? He would stretch you out so much !

“What ? Should I call you a good boy for thinking about it ?” you snarl, using your nervousness as a way to be sassy.

“I’m the one doing the praising here, baby,” he corrects, kissing your lips to ease your mind and grabbing your hips to bring you towards him. He slowly smudges your juice over his dick, before softly, and very very gently, entering you.

Your breath gets ragged, and he whispers words of praise in your ear as he pampers you of kisses. Fuck, Satoru thought that he could die in your pussy. And he hated that the condom was stopping him from feeling it well and good, wanting it to be skin to skin, but safety first. His thoughts started to drift that if he managed to make you his wife and future mother of his children, he could have all the excuses of hitting it raw. But that was a question for another time.

“So tight,” he mutters, kissing your forehead before finally hitting his hips all the way. You both take a deep breath, and you arch your back. You let out a ‘fuck’, and Satoru starts to move his hips. One of his hands comes to grab both of your wrists and pin them over your head, fingers tightening around it while slamming his dick inside your cunt. He lifts himself slightly to rub against your G spot, and you keep moaning more and more of pleasure.

Satoru kisses you passionately, his free hand cradling your head to bring you impossibly closer. The pleasure was so good it made your head spin, forgetting everything around you, time, reality, aside from Satoru. His smell, his skin against yours, his kisses, his tongue, his hands, his words of praise and love, everything, everything but only him.

He switches on the side when he realizes he might cum again. He makes you straddle him on top, and he puts his hands on your waist to stabilize you. You sink back on his cock.

“Come on pretty girl, move for me, ‘know you can do it, yeah ?” he asks, grinning at you while licking his lips. He makes you grind softly, and then you start to move up and down, each time falling back on his hips and feeling his dick all the way your insides. Your breast bounces at each thrust, and you try to go faster while he keeps you straight.

“Doing so well, yeah, you can do it,” he praises you to continue, kissing you tits before licking them. His hands grab your ass and his fingers dig into the soft flesh, partying them while jerking slightly his hips to dig his dick deeper inside you.

“Hey, don’t get tired on me, baby,” he coos when he notices your fucked out face, slowying down without realizing.

“Want me to do it for you ?” he asks, and you nod, moaning as you let your head fall backwards. He takes the opportunity to kiss the hollow of your throat.

“Ahh, poor y/n is too exhausted, how sweet… What would you do without me, uh ?” he chuckles, which vibrates against your skin. You glare at him, but he doesn’t let you answer as he smashes his lips against yours.

“Raise a bit your hips… yeah, just like that y/n,” he commands, and when you do so, he suddenly brings you strongly down, and you choke on a strangled moan of pleasure.

He slams his hips, hammering inside your dripping cunt. The pleasure gets suddenly more intense, and you feel like it wouldn’t take you long before cumming. Satoru feels the same, like a possession controlling him, wanting more and more.

“I love you, y/n, fuck- so… damn much… and, and I don’t say that words easily, so, ahhh… you better believe me-” he struggles to pronounce as he gets pussy drunk, cursing in between groans of utter pleasure at the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock.

“I love you too,” you whimper in a desperate way, at the brink of orgasm. When Satoru hears you saying these words, the ones he dreamt of receiving from you, he bursts inside the condom, feeling like he ascended Heavens.

You cum right after, and fall back on him. Satoru wraps his arms around your back to cradle you against his chest, kissing your sweaty forehead. He catches back his breath, face and tip of the ears red.

“You did amazing,” he whispers, kissing your cheek and then your lips.

You answer the kiss lazily, feeling so tired. He gently lifts your hips, taking off his cock and then the condom. He makes you sit back down on his thighs, and he throws the used rubber inside the bean of your room. He smiles when it lands successfully. He looks back at you, stars in his eyes.

“You can’t deny that we are the perfect match now, hmm ?” he whispers in the intimacy of the moment, smiling at you. You chuckle slightly, shaking your head before dropping it back down in the crook of his neck.

“You’re right, Satoru. I have to admit defeat,” you answer.

“Atta girl,” he muses, and then he suddenly scoops you in his arms, making you gasp. He kisses your forehead again, and gives you a cheeky grin before walking towards the bathroom.

“Now let’s get you cleaned, yeah ?” he proposes, and you caress the nape of his neck.

“I can do it myself,” you say in a soft voice.

“Never, I’ll do it. Don’t you know what aftercare is ?” he scoffs offended, pouting.

“Yes I know, thank you very much,” you roll your eyes as he opens the door of the bathroom with his feet.

“Really ? Here I thought you were a bit dumb here,” he jokes, looking away to tease you. You pinch the skin of his nape.

“You are the one that is dumb,” you tease back.

“I’m not the one that got fucked dumb,” Satoru adds, putting you down softly on the edge of the bath.

“Oh, shut up,” you get embarrassed and nudge him, which only results in making him laugh.

“But you love me for my sass,” he coos, patting your head.

“Yes, I do,” you answer in a softer tone, and smile at him. He smiles in return.

“So, can I call you muffin cake like in Shrek ?” Satoru asks batting his lashes.

“No.”

The first time you met Satoru was rather embarrassing. But who cares, anyway. Maybe you were made for him. And yes, Satoru wasn’t out of your league. Because here he was, so in love with someone like you. Yes, you, someone amazing, and he promised that he would keep repeating it. From now, to his last breath.

THE END

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #x reader #jjk #gojo angst #shokohime #shoko ieiri #geto suguru #jjk fluff #long fic #jjk smut #jjk au

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yoohyeon · 1 year ago

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My aunt was so annoying asking my parents to go to THEIR house this weekend that they really decided to go and leave me alone here 😐

#they told her we’ll see and she still asked every 5 minutes 😐#i have the babies with me but Pups is so sad he’s gonna stare at the back window all day hoping they come back 😭#i wish they could go only one day not a whole weekend so I can go too 😭#but I can’t cause there’s only one spare bedroom and I can’t sleep on anything that’s not a bed #i wish I could but I can’t #my parents actually don’t care and they would sleep on anything #but my aunt is the type to wake up at 6am and not care if someone is sleeping and be loud #my dad can only sleep on sundays most of the time i’m not making him go through that 🥲#bfksbdjd #anyway my aunts annoy me so much so i’m 50/50 sad #it’s just really fun to go to the country side and read all day I love it #at least ! it’s raining and really cold outside since yesterday so I’m not suffering having no air conditioner i opened the windows 🥰#and while I was in the shower my neighbours were listening to music really loudly again but not anymore or at least I can’t hear it anymore #thank god #alex.txt

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demonic0angel · 2 months ago

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DC x DP prompt: Zeus is a dick, as is most of the Greek pantheon. As such, Cassie Sandsmark is looking for a new patron god. Dani hears this, and introduces her to Danny, the Ghost King and new god like being.

(I haven't finished reading through the Young Justice run, so I actually don't know too much yet. So just beware that this will probably be incorrect.)

Cassie snarled as she straddled the dummy to beat it with her fists. From a distance, the rest of the Young Justice looked at her with various amounts of wariness and worry. Dani leaned close to Kon.

“What’s going on?” She whispered.

Tim was the one who answered, “Cassie’s powers are disappearing. Something with Zeus? I’m a bit more worried about her raging though. She’s going to hurt herself at this rate.”

Dani nodded and shared a look with the other girls, who also gave her a look. Then they all stepped forward, leaving the boys behind to share a sigh of relief.

They approached Cassie carefully, who was panting and winding down from her brutal beat down on the practice dummy.

“Hey, Cassie,” Cissie began. “Wanna talk about it?”

Greta and Dani both helped Cassie up and while Greta patted her back comfortingly, Dani put away the dummy. Cassie scowled, but then her expression changed into something more sad. “My powers are leaving. I just— I just want to know why! I thought that they wouldn’t leave me no matter what…”

Dani perked up. “Wait, you need another patron god?”

Cassie nodded but then she paused, alongside Greta and Cissie. “Wait… do you know someone?”

Dani beamed. She nodded and flew forward to hold Cassie’s hand. “Yes! He’s new to being a god, but I can promise that he’s powerful and he won’t abandon you! I can promise you 100%!”

Cassie looked hopeful for the first time. She looked down, thinking to herself as she muttered, “I only wanted Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl to be proud of me…” She looked up at Dani. “Who is he?”

Dani grinned. “He’s a death god, but he only came to power a few months ago. He rules over the domain of death and everyone who is dead or will be dead. Also space.”

Cassie hesitated. “Death…? I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.”

Dani clenched her hand gently. “I promise that he won’t make you kill. He’s the god of death, so he only helps ferry the dead souls to the afterlife. He’s more like… Hades, if that makes sense. He was a hero himself in our world.”

Cassie brightened. “I’d like to meet him! Who is he?”

Dani grinned. Her eyes were sparkling from excitement. “He’s my brother.”

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sparklingchim · 3 months ago

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game on 02 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.9k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: 18+

warnings: lots of smoochies !! 🤭, their first kiss <3, umm mentions of jk's infamous threesome again 😔, koo talks abt taking girls in missionary what can i say he is a man

summary: jungkook and you practice acting for the cameras. kissing him feels more right than you anticipated.

a/n: yayy chapter 2 is here!!!! <3 writing this was truly saur much fun n i hope u have fun reading too !!! 😋

read chappie one here

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"Just kiss me."

"Hold on a second."

"We really need to practise this."

"I know, just give me a minute."

You scoot away from Jungkook on the couch. You were sitting so close, almost about to kiss him actually, but his intense, doe-eyed gaze made you pause, needing a grounding breath.

You’ve never been this close to his face, and somehow, you can’t seem to cross the invisible line that keeps you from just pressing your mouth on his. Jungkook’s your friend, after all. You’ve known him since he was five and once saw him get his head stuck at school, so of course it’s weird.

You press your lips together in an attempt to focus, and lean in again, but once your eyes meet his, a smile urges on your mouth.

"Oh my god." Jungkook’s frustrated sigh cuts the air. "This can’t already be doomed to failure because of a simple kiss."

"It’s not! I just need to mentally prepare myself."

"I feel...offended? Kinda?" Jungkook weaves his fingers through his hair. "I’ve never had to convince someone to kiss me."

"It’s not you. I promise!" you say, reaching for his knee. "Under any other circumstance, if we weren’t friends, I’d love to kiss you. You’re hot and cute, but the situation we’re in makes me feel so stupid. It’s absurd."

Jungkook cringes when you call him cute and removes your hand off his knee.

Yesterday, when Jungkook showed up unannounced, it took him full ten minutes to convince you he wasn’t pulling a prank on you.

Who would believe their friend begging you to fake date them? It’s ridiculous. Only happens in the fictional world.

But then Jungkook showed you the pap picture that was circulating online. The comments and gossip were nasty and you knew he was caught up in a deep mess.

In the photo, Jungkook was surrounded by two girls, his arms draped casually around their waists as they stumbled out of the club, a half-full drink lazily held in his hand. His hair was a tousled mess, likely from the girls running their fingers through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a small peek into his defined chest. It was bold, provocative — definitely not the ideal image of a responsible twenty-year-old football rookie.

Probably the worst pap pic you’ve seen of him so far. And the worst timing too.

"You were wasted," you commented, staring at the article he was showing you on his phone.

"And I had so much fun last night." His voice was tinged with frustration, like a child whose favourite toy had just been snatched away. "But then I woke up to this picture, and a flood of missed calls and texts." He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling sharply. "They just had to ruin it for me."

Noticing your raised eyebrow, Jungkook quickly backtracked. "No, I know it’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have done this right before the World Cup, especially after what I promised. I just hate how everything turns into such a big deal, just because... well, just because I’m me."

The idea of fake dating Jungkook had seemed absurd, something out of a rom-com rather than real life. But the more he explained the pressure he was under, the more you understood why he needed this.

Jungkook was your best friend, and if kissing him in public could save his career, why not help him?

While you got ready for meeting his manager, stepping out of your comfy, rotting-at-home clothes, which consisted of little shorts and an oversized t-shirt (you think it’s actually Jungkook’s, but you’re not quite sure since it’s been in your closet for years now), and slipping into a casual, more presentable outfit, Jungkook busied himself fixing your laundry machine.

Jungkook’s manager knows you well – his entire team does. You are known as Jungkook’s close friend and had been spotted with him on multiple occasions.

Taesung greeted you warmly, though surprise flickered across his face when Jungkook introduced you as the solution to the fake dating plan.

You felt Taesung’s gaze assessing you, weighing your suitability for the role. Jungkook’s PR agent mirrored his scepticism, tilting her head in doubt. They exchanged uncertain glances, which made you nervous, but Jungkook was determined. Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook if he didn’t get what he wanted. With a few persuasive words and his usual charm, he quickly won Taesung over, who sighed and leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"We need to establish the narrative from the start," Taesung said seriously. "The media will dig into your background, and they’ll want to know if there’s anyone else in the picture. So, to be clear, you’re officially single. No boyfriend, no complicated past relationships that could surface. We don’t need any messy stories."

You assured them that there was none. Multiple times. No angry exes, no secret relationships – your personal life was as drama-free as it could get.

Taesung slid a document across the desk.

"This ensures that whatever happens, no details of this arrangement-"

Jungkook’s hand shot out, halting the paper. "No," he said firmly. "She doesn’t need to sign anything."

"Jungkook, it’s just a formality," Jiwoo began, but Jungkook insisted.

"I trust ___. She’s not just anybody. She’s my best friend. If she says she won’t talk, she won’t talk. The NDA isn’t necessary."

"It’s okay," you assured him gently.

Jungkook shook his head. "No, this is ridiculous. You’re not signing a stupid contract."

After more arguing, his manager eventually relented.

Jiwoo outlined the plan in more detail with Taesung – public appearances, social media posts, carefully orchestrated moments that would sell the story to the public. You felt a bit intimidated by the pressure, but you’d get used to it. After all, this arrangement is only for a few months – just until his management can announce that you’d mutually decided to break up on good terms.

But you both need to practise before stepping in front of the cameras.

Which leads you to this moment, a day later, sitting on your couch trying to practice how to act like a couple. And it’s not going well at all.

"Okay, let’s start from the basics then," Jungkook suggests. He rises to his feet, offering you his hand. "Hold my hand."

You gingerly accept his hand, standing up as well.

"See, don’t we look cute?" Jungkook drags you to the mirror. "Or maybe – let’s intertwine our fingers. I think that would look better." He holds your interlaced hands up between the two of you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. "So cute, right?"

A giggle bubbles in your throat. "You act like you’ve never had a girlfriend."

"Well, it has been a while," he admits, the slightest sulk on his lips. "I’m too busy for relationships." He swings your hands. "The only times I ever hold a girl’s hand is in missionary, above their head when-"

"Jungkook," you interrupt quickly before he can delve any deeper into the story. You give him a mock glare, but there’s no hiding the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Didn’t we both agree on only talking about your bed stories after I’ve had at least one bottle of soju – preferably two, so I can mentally brace myself?"

You love him, you really do, but you don’t want to hear about his bed stories, unless you’re the slightest bit tipsy at first.

"Oh, yeah." He shakes his head apologetically. "Forgot about that."

"Wait, maybe that’s what we should do!" you exclaim as an idea pops into your mind. Your hand slips out of his, and you take a step toward the kitchen. "I think there are a few bottles of soju in the fridge."

"We’re not getting drunk to build up the courage to kiss," he insists. "We shouldn’t need alcohol to pretend we’re into each other."

Jungkook pulls you closer to him, and you stumble slightly, but his hand instinctively moves to the small of your back, steadying you.

"Fine," you sigh dramatically, hand on his chest. "Was just an idea to make this easier for us." The fabric of his shirt is extremely soft and your fingers glide over it.

"I mean, it’s not like we’re complete strangers. And they know it too. We’ve been through enough to pull this off without breaking a sweat."

He’s is right. The public knows you’re one of Jungkook’s closest friends. It wouldn’t be totally unbelievable that you two might have fallen in love.

After all, you’ve always been comfortable with each other —hugging, cuddling during movie nights, play-fight over silly things just to annoy each other. You’ve shared quiet moments, like when you’d fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day or when he’d run his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you talked. There were times when Jungkook was exhausted and crashed at your place, your fingers gently scratching his head as he slept peacefully. You’ve kissed each other’s cheeks in thanks without hesitation.

Jungkook’s touch isn’t foreign to you.

And still, the thought of acting like you’re in love when you’re not feels strange. Sure, you’ve always been physically close, but this was different. This time, every gesture would be for an audience, every touch would carry a different meaning. It wasn’t just casual anymore.

"I guess," you reply, fiddling with the hem of his oversized t-shirt, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I think it’s just weird to be this close for show."

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his eyes softening as he considers your words. "Yeah," he murmurs. "But it’s not like we’re faking the friendship part. The rest...we’ll figure out." His fingers clasp your hip, the pads of his fingers gently digging into your flesh. "Don’t think about it too much," he says. "When we have our first public appearance as a couple, pretend like the cameras aren’t there, act nonchalant. Just... y’know. You and me."

You pout, an involuntarily frustrated grumble leaving your lips as you drop your forehead on his chest.

"I hope I’ll do well under all the attention."

You’ve dealt with your fair share of noisy people trying to pry into your relationship with Jungkook, but so far, it’s been somewhat manageable.

"Just you and me," Jungkook repeats, his tone softer and more assured this time. "Nothing can happen to you when I’m there."

You glance up at him, taking in the gentle lines of his face.

"Maybe you should’ve hired a girl that can deal well with attention," you voice your thoughts.

"No." Jungkook’s immediate response rolls off harshly on his tongue. "You were my first thought. I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else but you."

"I was your first choice?" Giddiness makes your face shine.

"Yeah. I don’t think I would’ve felt comfortable with anyone but you."

"Be honest, you just really wanna kiss me."

You stand on your tippy toes, a silly smile spreading across your face.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, a teasing glint buried in his eyes.

"I think you do."

With a surge of confidence, you take a small step closer, your heart beating a little faster as you close the gap between you and Jungkook. Your lips meet in a gentle, fleeting touch. The contact only lasts for a moment before you pull back, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

"That was a smooch. Not a kiss."

You frown upon hearing him complain.

"What, you want to make out with me in public?"

Jungkook sniffs a laugh. "No, but maybe a little more than how fifth graders kiss."

"You’re a kissing expert now?" you quip back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungkook leans in slightly. "I just know what I like."

The challenge in his voice sparks something in you. "Then show me how you like it."

His gaze drops to your lips, and a flutter of excitement spreads in your tummy. It’s unexpected and thrilling and it catches you off guard.

Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your back, slowly glides up, his fingers curling around the side of your face, his thumb brushing delicately against your cheekbone.

Your breath hitches as he leans in. His lips meet yours again, but this time there’s more weight behind the contact – still soft, but deeper, more intentional. His lips move slowly and there’s a warmth to it, a tenderness that makes your heart race even as the kiss remains gentle. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the connection just enough to make you melt into him.

The teasing atmosphere lingers in the back of your mind, but for now, it’s pushed aside by the gentle pressure of his lips on yours.

Kissing Jungkook doesn’t feel weird – which makes it a little weird.

When you both finally pull back, it’s gradual. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with your own.

"Like that," he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet it sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re a good kisser."

You pull back completely. "Excuse me?" you say. "You were doubting my kissing abilities?"

"No, not at all!" Jungkook shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes as he gazes at your sulky face. "You’re just a very good kisser. Like, super gentle and smooth."

Heat crawls up your cheeks. You ignore the flush of warmth and keep your composure. "Have you been using the lip balm I got you? Your lips are soft."

"I know, right? Not chapped at all anymore."

He traces two fingers along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion, finding yourself inexplicably drawn to his lips.

"Are we done practising?"

"Do you think we looked natural?" Jungkook’s hand slips into yours once more. While he is focused on the mirror, adjusting the way your bodies fit together – tugging you closer, alternating between holding your hand and interlacing your fingers – your mind is still replaying the memory of the tender press of his lips. "For me, it felt pretty natural. Not awkward at all. What do you think?"

It’s the simplicity with which he says it that draws a short laugh out of you.

The sound grabs his attention. "What?"

"You’re just...extremely serious about this. I don’t think they’ll analyse the way we hold hands, Kook."

"But that’s their favourite thing to do," Jungkook replies. "The gossip mills love analysing every step you take, where your eyes wander, who you smile at." A note of bitterness threads through his words.

He’s been playing pro for just two years and has fallen victim to greedy people intruding on his life so many times already. Former friends who leaked private conversations, acquaintances who turned their brief interactions into tabloid fodder, even strangers who felt entitled to a piece of him just because he was in the public eye.

Jungkook searched for solace and silence at your place many times, trying to escape the madness. In the quiet of your dorm, breathing felt easier.

You never asked questions, never pried. In a world where everyone seemed out to get something from him, you just let him be, offering him the comfort of your presence without demanding anything in return.

"People were just criticising this dude – ah, who was it again?" Jungkook stares at the ceiling, raking through his thoughts. "I can’t remember his name, but this guy was getting called out for choosing the booth seat while making his girlfriend sit in the aisle seat."

"The aisle seat? Come on, it’s an unwritten rule that-" You fall silent once you catch Jungkook’s pointed expression. "I mean, yeah. It’s definitely wrong to make a big deal about it. Maybe she prefers sitting there," you shrug.

"But do you see what I mean?" he asks. "Whether you intend to or not, you’re always judging what others do. And that judgement only intensifies when it involves a celebrity."

"Ah, when did you become so famous Jeon Jungkook?" You sigh, looking down at your linked hands.

"I know, right? Two years ago, no one would’ve cared if I had a threesome." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And now I am being punished for it—kicked off the national team, and my best friend has to save me by fake dating me."

"I feel like this would make a good movie," you giggle.

“We have to practise hard, then," he says.

You pull your phone from your pocket. "What if we film ourselves kissing so we can monitor it better?" You set up your phone on a nearby shelf and position yourselves in front of the camera. "Don’t engaged couples do this? I feel like we’re practising for our wedding kiss."

"Oh, butterflies."

"Huh?" You stare at the way he holds his hand against his tummy.

"You just told me you want to marry me. That gave me butterflies."

You slap his arm. "Stop being silly, we have a whole nation to fool that we’re in love."

Hang outs with Jungkook often end with the two of you lounging on the couch, snacks scattered everywhere, and a movie playing on the TV.

"Next one?" Jungkook asks from his spot beside you, inching closer with his pleading doe eyes.

You try to push him away by the, but he doesn’t budge.

"I need to study. Like, for real." You had warned him before starting the movie, agreeing to watch only one, but he still tried his luck.

He holds up one finger. "Just one."

You push him off your body, and this time he allows it, his back slumping against the couch. The grumble of complaint in his throat gets muffled by his pursed lips.

"You’re smart. The material is probably set in your brain anyway. No need to revise anything."

You scoff at his bratty words.

"So you won’t ever need to ditch hangouts for football practice because you’re already so good at it?"

"Well, no." He drags the word out, brows furrowed as he considers your question, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. "But I know you don’t need to study as much as you do. You’re just naturally smart."

"I wish, but I ace my exams because I study as much as I do."

"Aish," Jungkook mutters, standing up from the couch and stretching his limbs. His toned tummy peeks out from under his lifted shirt.

"Karina will be home soon anyway," you say. "And I’m not ready to play pretend in front of her yet." The thought of confessing to your roommate that Jungkook is now your boyfriend makes you shudder.

It was one of the conditions that made you briefly reconsider if you could really pull this off or if Jungkook should find another girl. You didn’t just have to act in front of the cameras – everyone had to believe that you and Jungkook are a couple, including your friends and family. You dread the day you have to tell your parents.

You know they once secretly hoped Jungkook would become your boyfriend when you were older, but as he became famous and the public started scrutinising his every move, your parents grew wary of his wild, reckless side.

You follow Jungkook to the door.

"You think she’ll believe us?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Not sure if she’ll buy it. She’ll probably be suspicious since I’ve never talked about you in that way when we gossip, but I think we’ve practised enough to at least make it look like we love each other."

Jungkook nods and hugs you briefly. "We’ll figure it out." He steps out of your apartment, typing on his phone. "My manager sent me details about our first public appearance." He scans the text, but quickly looks up at you again with an annoyed frown. "Ah, so many words. I’ll just forward you the messages." With a sweet smile and a quick wave, he starts to leave, but you tug at the back of his shirt.

You cup his face, pulling him down to you, and plant a kiss on his lips.

"You’re my boyfriend now. Act like it."

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incognit0slut · 3 months ago

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Pretty bunny

PART 1 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Sub!Spencer x Playboy Bunny!Reader Spencer doesn’t know what to do when he recognizes you from his favorite adult magazine.

Content: (18+) 3k, boobjob, male oral, public space, and Spencer being insecure of his size but we love him just the way he is, right? a/n: "WE LOVE PRINCE CHARMING REID!" We say in unison while we hold hands and continue to chant over and over again

Issue number: 662. Date: June 2009. Centerfold, pages 36 through 42, draped in nothing but the iconic bunny ears.

Spencer shook his head. No. There was no way it could be you. There was no way the same Playboy bunny he had masturbated to was casually picking up a book in this quiet library. But there was something unmistakable about you. The familiar curve of your back, the subtle sway of your hips, the way your ass rounded perfectly as you reached further down the bottom shelf.

His pants tightened uncomfortably.

It really was you.

Dear god, what were the chances? Spencer had only come to this library on a whim. It was supposed to be a simple day—run a few errands on his free day, pick up groceries, maybe find a new book to keep himself occupied. But what he didn’t expect was to come face-to-face with the very woman he had spent far too many nights thinking about. The same woman whose body he knew too well, even if you didn’t know him at all.

He shifted nervously, trying to focus on anything else—the books, the shelves, the smell of old pages—but his eyes drifted back to you. His gaze lingered on the neckline of your blouse dipping low as you bent further, revealing the soft curve of your breasts.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip.

“Can I help you?”

Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he noticed you staring at him.

“No,” he rushed out, the word falling through his lips like autopilot. "I was, uh, looking for a book."

Your brow raised slightly. “I didn’t know I was part of the collection.”

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, and he looked away, trying to think of a response that didn’t make him sound like an idiot.

“No, no, that’s not—of course you’re not… I—” He stopped, realizing he was only digging himself into a deeper hole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You straightened up, and he took in a sharp breath when your hips shifted slightly, brushing against the shelf as you moved.

“I wouldn’t say uncomfortable. Curious, maybe.” You crossed your arms. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who goes around staring at women in libraries.”

“I don’t,” he blurted out, his voice coming out a little higher than he intended. The way your crossed arms subtly pushed up your breasts only made it harder for him not to gawk at your chest. His gaze briefly flickered downward before snapping back to your face.

“I don’t,” he repeated in a voice he hoped sounded more confident than he felt. “You look… familiar.”

“Familiar? Have we met before?”

Of course not. Well, to you at least. He, on the other hand, had seen you more times than he could count. In photos, in dreams, in moments he’d rather not admit. “I… might have seen you in passing.” It was the truth. Sort of. “I didn’t expect to see you in a library.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I guess I don’t seem like the reading type to you, do I?”

He quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I just didn’t expect to run into someone like you here.”

“Someone like me?”

"You know, someone who’s, uh, famous.”

He instantly winced when the words tumbled out, regretting how awkward and clumsy it sounded.

“Ah,” you said with a knowing smile. “So you do recognize me.”

He paused for a moment, his eyes darting to the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “I… yes, I do. And I’m sorry,” he added, his second apology in less than five minutes. “I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

Your smile deepened, clearly enjoying his discomfort, but not in a cruel way—more in the sense that you found his awkwardness oddly charming. “It’s fine, I’m actually used to it,” you told him, uncrossing your arms. “And I don’t mind being recognized by someone as cute as you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly. “…cute?”

“Adorable,” you emphasized. “What’s your name?”

You called him cute. Cute.

What was his name again?

Oh. Right.

“Spencer.” He cleared his throat nervously. "I’m... Spencer."

“Spencer,” you repeated, and he could hear the way your voice softened, almost breathless, like you were savoring the sound of his name as it slipped from your lips. “It suits you.”

His tongue swiped along his bottom lip. “It does?”

“Mm-hmm. It has a nice ring to it.” Your eyes flickered down to his mouth for a split second before meeting his gaze again. "Strong, but gentle. You seem like the type of guy with those traits."

Spencer felt a wave of heat run through him. “I—I wouldn’t say that...”

“Well you are,” you continued, leaning in just slightly. “You seem gentle, but there’s more to you, isn’t there?”

“I… I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

"Oh, come on," you said with a teasing grin, your eyes flickering over his features as if trying to read the depths of his thoughts. "You've got that sweet, quiet thing going on. Like you're trying to be all polite and proper... but there's something else, isn't there?"

His eyes darted at the edge of the bookshelf. “No. I’m just… me.”

"Just you? Somehow, I don't believe that. I think there's a side to you that doesn't come out very often. Maybe you're not so innocent as you let on. Or maybe..." Your voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. "Maybe you're not as gentle as you seem."

There was a flicker of panic in his eyes as he tried to laugh off your words, the sound coming out strained and awkward.

“I’m really not that…”

But you didn’t let him finish. You leaned in closer, just enough that he could feel the heat of your body, your breasts brushing lightly against his chest.

“Not that what?” you pressed. “Not that innocent, or not that gentle?”

His pulse pounded visibly at his throat. “I... don’t know what you mean,” he said, but you could see the way his pupils dilated, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“I think you do,” you replied softly, your fingers brushing just barely against his. You watched as he stiffened, his shoulders momentarily tensing as if the slightest touch sent a shock through his whole body. You smiled, leaning in just a fraction closer. “I like you.”

You felt his breath hit your face as he let out a strangled sound, almost a gasp, and the warmth of it urged you on. Your hand gently found its way to his arm, fingers tracing a path down to his wrist.

“And I think,” you continued, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You might like me too.”

Spencer couldn’t find the words to respond, he couldn’t even breathe properly. How could he when your sweet scent filled his senses? How could he when he had imagined what it might be like to touch you, to have you this close, and now it was real?

He took a deep, calming breath to steady himself, but his heart was pounding violently against his ribcage, and his mouth had gone completely dry. Your fingers trailed down his arm, lingering for a moment before slipping under his hand to guide it firmly to your waist.

He was sure he could combust right on the spot.

“Tell me something, Spencer,” you murmured. “Did you like my pictures? The ones in the magazine?”

He tenses under your touch. His pupils dilated even further, his grip tightening on your waist involuntarily.

“I—uh,” he breathed out, his voice almost breaking, eyes darting away as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze. But you didn’t let him retreat. You shifted slightly, pressing your soft breasts more firmly against his chest. His gaze flickered back to your cleavage.

“Come on, I bet you did. I bet you… enjoyed them.” You let the implication linger. “Didn’t you?

His eyes fluttered close. Enjoyed felt too innocent for what he'd felt, what he'd done. He didn't just enjoy those photos—he devoured them. He touched himself, imagining you sprawled in front of him in that same pose. He fantasized about you, dreamt of your pretty face, the sultry look in your eyes, the way those cute bunny ears framed your hair but left everything else bare.

He grew even more painfully hard at the thought, and you could feel his his arousal pressed against your hip. A soft laugh escaped your lips.

"Spencer,” you cooed, his name rolling off your tongue effortlessly. "What ever are you thinking?"

He tried to shift away.

“I-I’m not—” he started, but every word he tried to speak died on his lips the moment your hand brushed against his stomach. He felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“You’re not?” You let your fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch, before drifting even lower. “Because it seems like you've got something on your mind. Or..."

Your fingers passed over his belt buckle, grazing the edge of his waistband.

“Somewhere..."

You hovered over his bulge.

“…else."

Without hesitation, you palmed his erection, feeling the full hardness straining against the fabric. He sucked in a sharp breath. “W-What are you—”

You brought your lips to the shell of his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. “I think you know what I'm doing."

Spencer's eyes glanced to the side, as if anyone might appear around the corner at any second, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not when your hand was moving slowly along his length.

“We… we can’t,” he managed to choke out. “Someone could—could see us."

“Hmm? Should I stop then?” You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Do you want me to stop, Spencer?”

The hesitation in his eyes was unmistakable, but so was the desperation. Brown orbs stared helplessly back at you. He couldn’t bring himself to say yes when every part of him screamed no. So he opted for silence, hoping that his lack of protest would tell you everything he couldn’t put into words.

You understood him clearly, so you pressed your hand more firmly on his bulge, fingers teasing the sensitive outline through his pants. The shape of him grew even more defined as you moved slowly, teasingly, with just enough pressure to make him gasp.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His grip on your waist tightened.

“Y-yes,” he managed to breathe out, eyes half-closed as he gave himself over to the sensation.

"I bet I can make you feel even better.”

Without breaking eye contact, you began to sink slowly to your knees, hands sliding down his body. You let your fingers trace down his hips as you came face to face with the unmistakable outline of his arousal, your gaze still locked on his as a smirk danced on your lips.

An IQ of 187 was hardly enough to process what was happening now. Every neuron in his brain fired wildly, trying to make sense of the rush of sensations, the heat of your touch, the intensity in your eyes.

How was this even real?

You let your lips hover for a moment, teasing him with the anticipation before you pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his cock. He let out a muffled cry.

“Shh,” you whispered soothingly, your fingers working at the straps of his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle was faint as you loosened it, pulling it free with a soft hiss of leather. “We don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”

Your fingers brushed against his waistband, eyes looking up at him all doe-eyed, wide and innocent, though everything about your touch was far from it.

He was going crazy. You looked so sexy, so pretty, yet so impossibly cute in that moment, like the very picture of temptation wrapped in innocence. His mind couldn’t help but flicker back to those pictures—the pictures—where you wore nothing but those bunny ears, your gaze so similar to the one you were giving him now.

He watched as you slowly peeled down the fabric, and found himself holding his breath. The cool air met his hot skin as his cock sprang free, and for a second, he couldn’t breathe.

Because Spencer knew he was different. He wasn’t like the other men you’d surely encountered, who knew their way around a woman like you, who were confident, who didn’t hesitate. And then there was the matter of size. He couldn’t help the thoughts rushing through his mind, wondering if you’d find him lacking, if he measured up to whatever experiences had shaped you into the woman that knelt before him now.

But a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock.

“You’re so…” You let out a small, appreciative laugh, your thumb brushing over his tip. “God, everything about you is cute, isn’t it?”

Spencer struggled to steady his breath, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as your touch made it impossible to think clearly. You leaned closer, eyes still locked on his, and your tongue darted out to give a teasing kitten-lick along the base of his cock.

“Not too big,” you teased, dragging your tongue up the underside, tracing every ridge.

“Not too small…”

You let your tongue travel upward until you reached the tip, where you sucked gently, swirling your tongue around him in circles that had his legs shaking.

“You’ll fit perfectly.”

A pained groan fell through his lips. “Fit… where?”

You let go with a wet pop, his cock twitching as the cool air replaced the warmth of your mouth. Holding his gaze, you let your fingers move to your blouse, slowly undoing the buttons one by one. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you staring.”

Then in one sudden, fluid motion, you tugged your bra down, letting your breasts spill free. The movement made them bounce slightly, the soft curve of your flesh catching the light, and Spencer’s eyes went wide.

His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out, just a strangled groan as his cock twitched visibly. The sight of you was too much for him to bear. He couldn’t decide where to look, his gaze flickering between your breasts and your face, like he was afraid to miss a single second of this moment. He followed your movement with wide, hungry eyes as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your chest.

“See?” you teased, pressing his length firmly between the soft, warm flesh of your breasts. “Perfect fit.”

His pupils dilated with full-blown lust as you started to move, slowly at first, letting him feel every inch of your warm, soft flesh sliding around his cock. You squeezed your breasts tighter together, the pressure creating a delicious friction that had him biting back a groan, his eyes glued to the way he disappeared and reappeared between your curves.

Up. Down. Up. Down. The head of his cock glistened as it emerged at the top again, only to slide back down into your cleavage, leaving a hot, wet trail along your skin.

“God… oh god,” Spencer choked out, his voice strained as his hips bucked slightly with each thrust. His eyes squeezed shut briefly, only to flutter back open as if afraid to miss a second of what was happening. His mind was a mess of disjointed thoughts, desperately trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. But all rationality was drowned out by the way you moved, the soft squeeze of your breasts around him, and the warm, slick glide of your sweat-kissed skin against his length.

He felt himself spiraling, the pleasure climbing higher, and all he could think was how good you looked, how perfect it felt, and how badly he wanted to paint his cum all over your face.

“Look at you all worked up.” You leaned forward slightly, letting the tip of his cock brush against your lips as it emerged, just the barest whisper of a touch. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

His fingers dug even deeper into the shelf, nails scraping against the wood. His voice was raw, almost desperate, as he let out a strained, “Please.”

With a satisfied smile, you lowered your head just enough to let your tongue flick out, circling around the head of his cock as it emerged from between your breasts, tasting the salty-sweet bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips slammed forward.

“Mm,” you hummed softly. “You wanna use me now, Spencer? Is that what you want?”

His grip on the shelf finally faltered, and you could hear the whimper in his throat, the way he bit down on his lip to keep from making a sound that would echo in the library. “Yes,” he gasped. “Please, I… I need to…”

“Go on,” you coaxed him, squeezing your breasts tighter around his length. “If you want it, take it. Use me.”

The moment those words left your lips, his hips jerked forward. The movement was sharp, desperate, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He fucked himself into the tight, slick warmth of your breasts. He stammered incoherently, half-formed words falling from his lips, barely audible over the sounds of his ragged breaths and muffled whimpers.

“Please, I—I can’t… I can’t—oh god…”

He finally snapped, his body trembling violently as the sensation ripped through him, the pressure too intense, too overwhelming. His hips bucked wildly, thrusting desperately into the warmth of your body, lost in the heat, in the wetness, in the need to let go completely—

And then, everything vanished in an instant.

He jolted awake, eyes snapping open, his chest heaving as he took in his surroundings. No longer surrounded by warmth, no longer on the brink of release. Just the quiet stillness of his bedroom, sweat beading on his forehead, heart pounding in his chest, sheets tangled around his body… and the magazine lay open beside him, your image staring back at him mockingly.

Bunny ears perched on your head, delicate breasts spilling over, legs spread wide apart.

It took a few seconds for Spencer to catch his breath. He glanced down at himself, his eyes trailing to his painfully hard arousal, noticing the wetness seeping through his boxers and sticking to his skin. The rush of disappointment and adrenaline twisted sharply in his chest as reality hit him.

It was just a dream.

An embarrassing, all-consuming, impossible dream.

#kinktober 2024 #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction

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kamaluhkhan · 1 year ago

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THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.

“what? n-no!”

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.

it just didn't seem fair.

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.

every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.”

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.

“she deserved more.”

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do.

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.”

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”

luke bristled at your nickname for him.

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.

the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.”

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse.

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.”

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?”

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?”

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him.

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.

everything was falling into place.

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”

“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet.

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated.

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!

would you hate him, if you knew?

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

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