#but it's certainly PHRASED in a universal way

[drop-dead-dropout]

THANK YOU

womanhood is an endless cycle of finding your way back to a younger version of yourself and nurturing them

[chuluoyi]

jealousy, jealousy...

- nanami kento x reader

your husband seems to be immune to jealousy, and you've pretty much convinced yourself that he just doesn't have it in him... or does he?

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, jealous!nanami (he is in denial), implied suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, gojo cameo (i just can't pass up the chance of him annoying the heck out of nanami ahaha)

note: based on this ask, this is a little continuation to the secret wife! and this is in the same universe as love entries so gojo is married to the love entries reader! :)

general masterlist

By all means, Nanami Kento is not a jealous man.

He knows his worth. And he knows you. Out of all people, you wouldn't try anything with anyone.

Even more so with Ino. He knows him too, and there is just no way.

So... he really shouldn't get riled up, especially when it was his shitty senior who tried to set him on fire—

"It's still beyond me, how you managed to bag her," Gojo remarked with a bark of snort. Both of them shared the same table in this high-end bar, an afterparty for the school's graduation, but Nanami was seriously considering to move after Yaga left earlier until this clown came. "And keep her a secret too. I mean, that's so foul! If I were your wife, I'd divorce you on the spot."

Nanami threw him a pointed look. "The feeling is mutual. I feel bad for her for putting up with you too. And please don't be gross and say things like you being my wife. It's appalling."

Gojo's wife being his close friend and former classmate was what foul, Nanami thought. Sure, he would acknowledge Gojo's relentless efforts, but still, anyone willing to be this shameless paintbrush's wife must lead a really daring life.

The strongest sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'll have you know that my married life is full of bliss. I have a proof, look at my—"

"If you want to show me hickeys, I'll seriously report you for harassing me."

And to that, Gojo merely whined and pursed his lips, and Nanami finally had some peace. He really entertained the thought of going back, because Gojo wasn't exactly a fun company, and this was getting late, until…

"Hey, Ino—the one who always follows you around," Gojo suddenly said. "Whoa, you're letting him close to your wife too, huh?"

Nanami whipped his head to where you were, and true to what Gojo said, you were indeed there, talking animatedly to his junior.

You were all smiles, and Ino was every bit as excited as you were. There was nothing remotely wrong with how you were conversing. You two looked like a pair of really, really good friends.

Ever since word of your marriage got out and became common knowledge, you've been receiving the kind of attention that Nanami wasn't sure he preferred. While he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, he certainly felt that a more private life was preferable.

But the thing was… weren't you too close with him? If it were up to him, Ino could've had at least two steps back. What were you discussing anyway?

"You're a lax husband, Nanamin, heh," Gojo whistled, totally grinning because he won this fight. "I know you probably think it's harmless, but a puppy is still a dog, you know~"

A puppy... is what?

That night, that phrase was what going through in his mind over and over as he chugged down his drinks.

No way, no way... It must have been because he had too much to drink. He couldn't possibly!

The next time he felt that unpleasant feeling, it was on one night, at the comfort of your home.

Both of you had just finished watching a movie, still lounging on the sofa. You were blissfully humming, texting away on your phone at—Nanami looked at the clock—11 p.m.

Now, now, he wasn't one who would be checking your phone or such, but he couldn't deny the curiosity within him, because you weren't usually texting anyone this late at night.

"Hehe~" suddenly, you giggled and Nanami glanced at you in wonder. You seemed to be having fun.

Who... are you texting?

Despite telling himself he wouldn't meddle in your affairs, he gruffly cleared his throat. "Dear, it's late."

"Oh?" you whipped your head to him. "Oh, yeah..."

You were genuinely confused, your husband was folding his face as if he was sour of something. "Kento? What's wrong?"

But suddenly, his face lit up into a smile, kind of forced though. "Ah, nothing..." And suddenly he lifted you up from the sofa, making you almost yelp as you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Time for bed."

However, what you didn't realize was that your phone's screen lit up just as the sender replied to your message, and Nanami caught a glimpse of it.

Ino.

A puppy is still a dog, you know~

The heck?

"Kento?" you asked again, and he immediately turned to you, unable to read the message. Still, his mind was reeling in many ways, and when he looked into your innocent, round eyes, suddenly he clicked his tongue, eyes slitting in dissatisfaction.

"Time for bed, dear."

Long story short, that night, your husband was somehow a little more aggressive than usual... even as he fondled you ever so softly at the end.

The third time, Nanami had enough.

He had just finished a mission when he got that call from Ino, informing him that you were at a clinic after nearly passing out.

Out of anyone else... how could you not call him first?!

He may be vexed, but worry was what clouded his mind the most. You were almost five months pregnant now, and to have this happening to you—

He walked in to find you lying on the small bed, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Kento..."

"What happened to you? Why didn't you call me?" his voice was rough, and your smile fell. You felt him gripping your hand tightly. "How can you—"

Ino, sensing his apprehension, suddenly intervened, "Uh, Nanami-san, it's not—"

Nanami turned to him sharply, causing him to gulp.

"We were... in a bakery when Y/N-san suddenly felt faint," the younger man explained. "Please don't be too hard on her."

"And why are you with my wife in broad daylight?"

"Kento, it's not what it looks like!" you squeezed his hand urgently. "We were just... trying to find a cake, you know..."

"...what?"

And that day, everything Nanami thought he knew was turned on its axis. Perhaps, if he wasn't thinking too much—if Gojo's words hadn't taken his mind, he wouldn't jump into conclusions this easily.

Your first wedding anniversary was just in a couple of weeks, and you had enlisted in Ino's help to find this one bakery that he swore sold only the best goods. Your texts to each other were solely about that—nothing more, nothing less.

"Aww, Kento~" you cooed as Nanami helped you into your shared bed once you got back home. "You got jealous, it's cute, and I'm happy~"

He huffed. "I was not jealous."

"Ehh, didn't look like that to me though~"

"Listen," he said, taking hold of your shoulders once he had seated you on the bed, looking straight into your eyes. "From now on, whatever you do... you have to contact me first, alright?"

"Oh—?"

"When you need something, when you don't feel well, when you feel like you might be in some kind of danger..." his tone was serious, emphasizing each word. "You have to reach out to me first. You don't go to Ino, Gojo, or anyone else—me. You go to me. I'm your husband, and I intend to fulfill that role well for you."

And he placed a hand on your tummy, gently caressing it. "And of course the father role for the baby too."

You clamped up, totally speechless. This unexpected development made your heart soar with a heap of giddiness.

"Yes!" Your smile was so wide and radiant that Nanami was sure he had started to blush too. Then you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "And you know... you're already the best husband and soon-to-be father ever! So you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"

Ah, how nice. Nanami chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

"Mhm, and from now on, I'll take charge of our anniversary. You only have to take it easy, alright?"

And when you giggled, he thought having you in his embrace like this was enough to satisfy him—after all, he was a simple man.

Epilogue

"I know even Nanami gets jealous! Heh, heh, heh~"

Gojo laughed crisply, and Shoko snorted as they listened to Ino recount the story, with the latter scratching his head uncomfortably.

"I really didn't mean anything, and now I feel kinda bad," the younger man said, his head dropping. "Nanami-san seemed upset too..."

"Not many things can get under his skin," Shoko remarked. "I really thought he'd be more rational, but having an expecting wife must've taken quite a toll on him too."

"Nah, don't find more excuses, Shoko! Now is time to pay up~!"

As Shoko grumbled and Ino was lost in his own thoughts, a loud cough suddenly echoed behind them.

"Gojo-san... Ieiri-san..." Nanami leveled his unamused gaze on them, his glasses glinting in the light, causing the two gulp. "What are you two doing?"

[opultea]

Babe, Look at Me!

Things the Genshin men do to try and impress you. ft. Alhaitham, Lyney, Morax (Zhongli), Itto

Fluff - Romantic - SFW - GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Headcanons

Word Count: 0.8k

Alhaitham

So here’s the thing

Alhaitham ain’t a man to show off

He literally doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him

Expect for a special someone (¬‿¬)

(That’s you boo)

Alhaitham still doesn’t show off in the classic way. Definitely doesn’t go out of his way to make you view him doing certain things

But if the opportunity presents itself naturally… then why not take it?

I’m talking lifting up the hem off his shirt to wipe sweat off his brow when he’s working out with/near you, changing shirts just a little bit slower than he usually would if you’re around, putting a bit more effort in winning a debate he’s in with another scholar when you’re with him, flexing his bicep when you hold his arm

It’s the little things

But boy do they work

Sports a smug little smile when he sees you affected by him

If you get flustered and smack his chest to tell him to stop, he'll just give you a slight smile and tell you he has no idea what you're talking about

Lyney

As if this guy won't spend ages perfecting that trick where he pulls a bouquet from nowhere so he can gradually pull out bigger and bigger bouquets to give you

He already practices his tricks almost constantly, dead set on perfecting every little thing

But with you on his mind?

That spark to do his best grows into a fervent flame like no other

Lynette doesn't complain about his childish wish to impress you as long as it's improving his performance (and making him happier), but she definitely rolls her eyes at him when she overhears him practising his line delivery for when he gifts you the rainbow roses he bought earlier

He personally invites you to every one of his shows, and though he understands if you can't make it every time, he smiles so wide when you say yes that you're tempted to push aside all your other commitments anyway

After the show, he'll pull you aside and ask what you thought, all while trying to appear as if he isn't nervously awaiting your approval

Morax

I’ve specified Morax here because this is based in the universe of my Zhongli x Cloud God Reader head cannon (from my Where’s My Kiss? drabbles)

Look, he’s a young, proud, powerful god with his eye on the lovely cloud god that he sees roaming above sometimes, and he can’t help but try to do certain things hoping you’ll be watching from your domain

Morax in his dragon form taking more causal flights around Liyue than he used to, certainly not because he knows you can see his magnificent true form from your palace in the heavens when he flies past

Although he doesn’t often involve himself in battle unless necessary, he’s found himself allowing the yaksha to spar with him with the excuse that he believes it will test their limits (and definitely not because he wants you to see how powerful he is)

You agreed to help him train the yaksha, and as you stand at the side of the small battleground Morax locks eyes with you as he does his finishing move in a 'cool guys don't look at explosions' way

Definitely smirks a little when he sees how it affects you

Itto

Actually says the phrase 'Babe, look at me!' all the time

Literally will do anything and then turn to you to receive his head pat and praise

Loves to flex (both literally and figuratively)

Takes extra special care of his horns and hair the night before he's going to see you just to fish for extra compliments

If you don't immediately acknowledge the extra care he took and the extra shine on his horns, he'll clear his throat and place his hand on his head to make you look up at his horns

If you still don't compliment him or act impressed (which you've definitely done just to tease him) he'll get sooo pouty, poor baby :((

But of course, you always act so impressed in the end, often turning it up to eleven jokingly

Itto will take any and all compliments seriously though, no matter how dramatic you're acting with them

"Thanks babe, knew you'd notice."

He acts cool by sweeping back his flowing mane as if he wasn't hunched over pouting two seconds ago

"My horn's are just too cool sometimes, you know? Feels like I gotta reign in my own awesomeness sometimes, otherwise everyone will be all up on me and you'll get lost in the crowd of admirers! And we can't have that, huh? You're the numero uno cheerleader for this numero uno leader!"

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Chapter 97: An Old Love Story

Okay, say it with me: FOIL!

You can see it too, right? Looks like Martha x Henry (Henderson)'s story is a foil of Twilight and Yor's story.

Henderson was in Twilight's place; the smart, lonely young man so focused on his ideals that he was blind about who was in front of him and his very own feelings.

Martha was in Yor's place, the strong and graceful girl too young and inexperienced to know her own heart and that she was in love.

This is exactly what's happening with Twiyor, the main couple of the story, and I think we may get to see one of the possible endings for our beloved Twiyor through Martha and Henderson story.

Now, what do we know about these two 🤔...

We know that Henry Henderson has a daughter and a son-in-law. It was mentioned he writes to them, but there was no mention of his wife. This leads me to believe that:

His wife is no longer alive.

He lives with his wife, so there's no reason for him to write to her.

He is divorced.

So, with this information we still can't know what's the current relationship between Martha and Henry, but we can take a guess 😉

From the way the story is being told, it almost feels like it's a semi-tragic love story, doesn't it? We can almost assume that they didn't end up together...or did they?

Theory one: Yup, everyone is right and Martha and Henderson eventually went their separate ways for reasons we'll probably get to know in the next couple of chapters.

If this theory is right, I think it's beautiful that they are getting a second chance 💖They certainly look more mature, confident, and calm (also elegant!). I love the way they look at each other, so much trust and love 😌

Theory two: I know this one is a long shot (and Henderson just said in that panel that "She is merely and old friend") but maybe...they're actually married. Why am I so bold to even consider that possibility?! Well, there's this panel:

The matron is clearly teasing Master Henderson, don't you agree? If she does it, it's because she knows something. Either she knows that there was something between those two in their youth or she knows they are married. I don't know, but they way she said the word "partner" and the fact that Master Henderson is married made me think that Martha is his wife. I know, I know...it's a remote possibility, but you have to remember that marriage is mentioned a lot through different characters and couples during the story, so maybe those two were actually married. (But, it's quite possible it's theory one).

Other things to consider...

How long have Ostania and Westalis been at war?

My guess is that we're talking about two different wars between the same countries; very much like WWI and WWII, where there was a brief period of peace before a second conflict. So, probably the first war started while Henderson was in his 20s and the second war started when he was in his 40s (and Twilight was a kid).

It makes a lot of sense that now they're in a period of "Cold War", just like in real life.

The Garden

I am convinced that the Garden is involved in this. I've talked about this before (read it here). After this chapter, I still think the Garden is going to pop up. Want some evidence?

Do you recognize this guy?

That's right 😏 That's Matthew McMahon. What is he doing there? Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?

And also the way this is phrased:

Odd that there was a mention of the word Garden, isn't it? And the fact that the whole story between those two takes place in a garden...🤔

In addition to that, in a previous chapter, Twilight observes how Martha moves like a soldier. Franky mentioned earlier that Garden people are like soldiers. And the Garden has a history of recruiting young skilled/strong people, like Yor. Things keep adding up.

The Consequences of War

This is a prevalent theme throughout the whole SxF universe: how war (violence, intolerance, manipulation of information, propaganda, politics) has affected the life of all the characters.

No matter their background, nationality or education, we've seen it again and again with most of the characters big or small, like Twilight, Franky, Sylvia, Millie, and now we're about to see it with characters from an older generation like Martha and Henderson.

My guess is that this won't be the last time and this pattern will continue while the story lasts. I think what the story is trying to show us is how war is seen by some (politicians and men in power like Desmond) as a natural, inevitable course of action, but at the same time how brutal the consequences are in the smallest stories. That's one of the things that is truly remarkable about SxF.

[guided-by-stars]

One of the aspects of the systems of belief established in ISAT that makes it so fascinating to examine is that they are are centered around praxes that aren’t focused on as much in the major religions in our world.

Much has been said about how the Change belief encourages self-exploration, (transness is seen as holy, exploration of identity is encouraged) and pressures those who don’t want to change who they are (Mirabelle). The underlying core of the Change belief is action. Active Choice is more encouraged than anything else. The choice to change your body, the choice to change yourself, the choice to change your circumstances, the choice to go on a pilgrimage, the choice to learn new skills, etc. Of course passive change is also celebrated- death is seen as just another Change, and I assume that would apply to aging in general (appreciation of elders?), but it’s not as pushed. In this way, the Change belief encourages autonomy, control over your own life, and ownership of your life circumstances.

On the other hand, those who believe in the Universe as a force of power in the world are faced with the opposite pressure. When the King and Siffrin are relating for the first time over their shared culture, they both remember the phrase “The Universe leads, we can only follow.” The underlying core of their belief is that what is fated must happen, it’s inaction. Passivity. Any drastic action that is taken is justified by it being a path the Universe led them on. When the King starts the battle, he says ��Let’s see which side the Universe favors!” Whoever ultimately wins at the end was fated to win, and that could never have been changed. It’s about resignation, acceptance.

This ultimately impacts everything about how the story plays out. When Siffrin first realizes he’s in a time loop, he’s excited! The Universe has given him the power to change things! He’s being led on a path where he can protect his friends and make sure everything is alright! They’re fated to win! As the futility of his quest sets in though, he very quickly turns to resignation instead. What’s the point of getting upset over having to die again and again? There’s nothing he can do about it. The Universe leads and he can only follow. If anyone else was the one looping, they would probably react quite differently just due to that.

However, it’s more complex than just that. What about Wish Craft? Isn’t that purely about taking action, making a Change? Well, partially, but because of the culture that everyone who knows about Wish Craft is part of, it’s seen more as appealing to the Universe. Asking, pleading, for the current to bring you down the left stream instead of the right in the fork in the waters. If you gain something from Wish Craft, you were given it, you didn’t take it. Once again, it’s passive. If Wish Craft was a Vaugardian thing, it would certainly be seen differently.

If the Change belief’s focus on action encourages autonomy, control over one’s life, and free will, what does that say about the Universes resignation and acceptance? Once again, I’m reminded of Euphrasie repeating words as if she’s prerecorded, skipping like grooves on a well-worn CD.

There’s also something to be said about how, in the Change religion, they appeal to a deity, one that you can have a personal and positive relationship with, and those who believe in the Universe are believing in an unfeeling force of nature. None of this is to say either is more beneficial than the other, the pressure to always Change can be extremely destructive, and sometimes acceptance is much better than change. It’s just fascinating how much they come into conflict with each other.

[hyukalyptus]

the willow tree — prince!yeonjun x servant!oc (mira)

cw. brief mention of the death of a grandparent, chubby!reader (rarely self conscious), exes to ???, unsupportive parents, dual POV, classism, mira is described as chubby and has long wavy hair, mira often wears dresses/thongs/etc, smut, sir kink, sneakin around, pet names (darling, babe, baby, love, my girl), lots of cunnilingus/bjs/handjobs, more specific content warnings before each chapter, NSFW/MDNI!!! notes. this has taken me forever!! i know i've been talking about this for so long and i really hope you love it. the poll said to post everything at once, but i put chapter headers so you wouldn't lose your place since its so goddamn long. anyway, enjoy!! wc. 26K im so sry

cw. yeonjun is a bit of a jerk in a flashback, classism, yj is an environmental activist and if u are a climate change denier, feel free to block <3, mira (oc) is described as chubby, yeonjun sneaks into mira's room (but not in a pervy way).

YEONJUN'S POV

Open your heart to the adventure ahead. I glare back at the cheesy quote slapped across the page-a-day calendar resting on my desk Mother gifted me last Christmas. The phrases usually amount to nothing more than fortune cookie wisdom or elementary classroom poster encouragements, and today's offering is no exception.

It’s plastered in meetings and to-dos I have today. One meeting is with a new landscape architect for the garden, another with Gemma about the upcoming quarterly dinner, and another with our ambassador about an upcoming international environmental meeting I’m attending later this year. 

Philanthropy has always been a forte of mine. No matter the cause, I can persuade the richest of the rich to contribute to the cause, I host grand fundraising events, and love speaking for what I care about. My pursuits have evolved over time, ranging from childhood health to advocating for mental wellness and combating food scarcity. 

It’s been difficult to choose what I cared about most, but I simply can’t commit all of my focus to every cause, no matter how hard I try. Within the last few years, my focus has been the environment—an urgent matter demanding action, even if I’m not a major contributor to the problem. Nonetheless, I certainly have influence over large corporations that do, not to mention my political influence. I've also cultivated a deep appreciation for the arts, advocating for universal access. Last year, I facilitated the donation of $125,000 worth of instruments to local public schools.

Outside of work, I like learning new instruments and artforms—right now, pottery and piano—and reading. And I love to travel. I always fly commercial—never private. 

“Honey, be in the common room in fifteen minutes,” Mother—the Queen—says at my door. She glows as her deep ruby chiffon dress flows with her movements, exuding royal, elegance, and authority. She finishes putting in her gold earring before adding, “We have a new hire.” 

Ah, the customary introduction of new staff. I finish watering the peace lily on my window bench before heading down the hallway.

Our castle is opulent yet sophisticated and contemporary. I genuinely love the peacock-green walls, the gold trim, the myriad of photos on the walls—memories of the Queen presenting awards, snapshots from my trips, simple portraits. Despite the grandeur of it all, it’s home.

The common room is large and well-lit thanks to the floor to ceiling windows. Lots of comfortable seating scatters the floor for when guests are over. A large Morisot painting hangs on the wall opposite the windows—brushstrokes full of energy and splashes of rich greens and blues. But it’s the simplicity I love about it. It’s why I bought it. 

“Good morning, Your Majesties,” Gemma states as she enters the room, fifteen staff people following behind her. Everyone does their obligatory bows and curtsies, something I never particularly liked. But I understand the purpose behind it. 

The staff stand in a straight line facing us, Gemma being the stiffest of all—she commands the room, adores perfection, and keeps everything in order. She isn’t my personal favorite staff person, but I don’t know what we’d do without her. 

They’re all wearing their boring uniforms—half are in drab grey frocks with white aprons and the other half are in drab grey suits. I’d rather they wear whatever they want.

Formal introductions like these aren’t to my taste. I like getting to know the staff on our own terms. Organically. But this is important to Gemma. It’s a sort of initiation, a welcome into the family. So I let her do what she needs to do, but I’m busy reminding myself of my to-do list.

Email Princess Everly about the upcoming benefitReschedule interview with Philanthropy DailyOutline Climate Week keynote speech

“As you know,” Gemma startles me out of my thoughts. “We’ve welcomed a new person to our team. I want everyone to give her a warm welcome.” Walking to the end of the line, she introduces her, “This is Mira.” 

Mira smiles softly with a curtsy that I’m assuming she learned to do in the kitchen moments earlier. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am,” she says, tilting her head toward Mother. “And you too, Sir.”

“Nice to—oh.” My mouth hangs open. What am I supposed to say again? Oh right, “Um…it’s nice to meet you too,” I finally murmur. That was embarrassing. 

Everything flashes across the movie screen in my mind—memories with her. The girl I fell in love with when I was a stupid teenager. The girl who stole my first kiss. The girl that was so sweet to me and treated me like any other kid because that’s all I was—a kid.

But she wasn’t just a girl to me. She was the first—only—person I was in love with. The girl I snuck out of the castle at night to go stargazing with. The girl I told all my secrets to. The girl I never thought I’d see again. How could I have forgotten her? 

Do you remember me?

Perhaps that’s all I was to her, though—a boy. Another insignificant teenage romance. Then again…how could she forget? We’d talk for hours about spending our lives together. She’d even picked out her favorite room in the castle that we’d move into together when the time came. It’s now the music room, complete with a piano among other instruments. 

We’d sit under her favorite willow tree in the garden eating red bean buns she’d brought back from the next town over when she’d visit her cousins. 

Have you forgotten? To be fair, It has been six…seven years. Wow. 

The room soon clears, except for Mira and myself. She paces around and smooths her skirt.

“Oh!” Mira gasps. “I’m so sorry. I thought everyone had left,” she says with an awkward curtsy. Simply shaking my head, I stay put. “...Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?”

“Nope…uh, no,” I start, fiddling with the edge of one of the couches before finally speaking up again. “Where are you from?” I’m testing the waters. Trying to see if she remembers me without coming straight out and asking. Honestly, I do this with all our staff: ask where they’re from, get to know them a bit. I don’t like having robots I know nothing about doing everything for me. 

“I’m originally from the next town over.”

Hm. Am I wrong? Maybe she simply looks a lot like my Mira. And has the same name. And the same gorgeous brown eyes. Perhaps I shouldn’t refer to her as my Mira anymore. 

“I’ve lived here since I was a kid though,” she adds. Ah, okay. That seems like something I should’ve known. Nodding, I open my mouth to say something else, but Mother calls me from a distance.

“Yep.” I stand up straight as a pin, turning to exit the room. “Be right there.” 

-

Rummaging through my drawers, I finally find it. The necklace I’d bought Mira all those years ago—a delicate circle pendant with an “M” stamped in the middle hanging from a delicate gold chain. She wore it everyday for six months. I can’t remember how I ended up with it, though. 

So, she’s real. At least that’s true. What should I do with it? I pace up and down the hallways clutching it, brainstorming about what to do with it. Perhaps I should simply walk up to her and ask her about it. Should I wrap it for her and give it to her as a present? Should I give it to Gemma to return to her?

“Oh, Gemma, I’m sorry,” I say, apologizing for almost bumping into her. 

“Not a problem, sir.” She curtsies and begins to walk away, but—

“Gemma?” She turns, holding her hands behind her back, awaiting my instruction. “Can you tell me where the new hire stays? I want to make sure I’ve got everyone’s rooms in order in my head.”

“Mira?” I nod. “She lives in room number six, sir.”

“Thank you.” I smile, but she simply waits. Ah— “Dismissed.” 

As I nonchalantly make my way to the staff wing, I keep an eye out for anyone who might be watching. Not that anyone would question me, but I don’t like people in my business. I eventually find her room in the same hallway as everyone else’s—a basic wooden door painted white with a brass “6” nailed to it—I hesitate before knocking softly. No response. I try again, slightly louder. Still nothing. On the third attempt, I test the door handle and find it unlocked. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m just gonna get in, put the necklace somewhere, then get out. I won’t bother any of her stuff. 

But her room is so sweet. Plain and organized since she just moved in. A single photograph of her and her parents with who I’m assuming is her grandmother rests on the dresser. The bed’s made neatly. There’s a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. 

Ah, the bedside table drawer. That should be a good spot, but I find things that are way too personal in there and decide against it, respecting her privacy despite the fact that I’m breaking and entering. 

Hm…where to put it? Sock drawer? The windowsill catches my eye—a perfect blend of visibility and subtlety. I approach it, careful not to disturb anything, and hang the necklace on the window latch. It’s hiding in plain sight but still easy to find and doesn’t show that I rummaged through her drawers, which is a plus.

Now, we wait. 

-

A week passes. Radio silence. I haven’t gone back to her room to see if it's still hanging on her window, but I haven’t seen it around her neck either. Perhaps she threw it away and I should give up. 

Trudging through my bedroom door, I loosen my tie and toss my phone and wallet onto my bed. I attempt to rub the tiredness out of my eyes, but I’m exhausted. Thankfully, my dinner is already waiting for me on my dresser under a cloche. 

Next to my plate is a glass of ice water dripping in condensation along with a napkin and a set of cutlery. And resting right next to my fork is Mira’s necklace. The sight of it sends a jolt through my system. I knew she came into my room somewhat regularly—all the staff do—but thinking about her in my room makes me tingle. 

I sink onto the edge of my bed with a sigh as the chain slips through my fingers. When I first gave it to her seven years ago, her eyes lit up and her smile made everything feel right. I knew we were supposed to be together. That all seems so distant now.

Why didn’t she simply get rid of it? 

Maybe she hasn’t given up entirely and neither should I. 

It goes back and forth between us for a few weeks. After I found it on my dresser, I slipped it into her apron pocket. Then I found it between the pages of my notebook. The day after I wrapped it around the sugar bowl’s lid handle, it appeared wrapped around the handlebar of my bike. 

We never spoke a word of it. 

Every time I found it, it made me smile, but I knew this couldn't continue forever. I need to see her, to talk to her, to find out what was really going on. Does she want to talk to me? Does she hate me? Does she even remember me?

The next morning, I slip a note under her door. 

Meet me under the willow tree at 8. - Y

Every minute of the day feels like an eternity as I wait for evening to arrive. Doubt gnaws at me, but the thought of seeing and speaking to Mira keeps me sane. 

The evening air is cool and crisp. The sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep blue. Waiting under the willow tree, I think about the many times Mira and I have sat under here and talked for hours, watching the stars as the branches swayed in the wind. We’d talk about our days, places we wanted to visit together, how I wanted to tell everyone about us but she was too hesitant. 

Minutes start to feel like hours as I wait, the silence around me amplifying my racing thoughts. What if she never comes? What if she didn’t get the note? What if she’s avoiding me? Does she hate me?

Finally, soft footsteps approach and I turn to see Mira, her silhouette framed by the dim garden lights. She walks slowly, like she’s dragging it out as long as possible. As she comes up to me, her eyes search mine. My heart races, there’s a lump in my throat. 

"Mira," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. She curtsies. “You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s my job, Sir,” she says flatly. Rocking back on my heels, I press my lips together. 

"I thought I’d return this straight to you,” I say, holding up the necklace. “It seems like it keeps getting lost.” I chuckle nervously, trying to break the tension.

“Thanks,” she replies flatly as she accepts the necklace. Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. I thought I’d memorized every detail about her, but seeing her now under the lamppost, it’s like I’m rediscovering her all over again. She’s beautifully chubby and always has been. Her long, dark brunette hair has a tint of red that makes it look like cinnamon. The wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants paired with an old pair of flip flops tells me she either forgot about our meeting and got dressed in a hurry or wants to get this over with. Or perhaps both. 

“What can I help you with, Sir?” Awkward silence. 

“Mira,” I whisper, her name a fragile plea on my lips. She stares at the ground, avoiding my eyes. What was she expecting? For me to never bring us up? Of course I’d talk to her about it. “Mira Ashenrose, right?” She hums quietly. “I realized I never asked your last name since you started working here.” 

The silence between us is thick with tension. Memories flood my mind and I hope the same is happening to her. The last time we were here, we laid with each other for hours, so long that the sun started rising. She fit so perfectly in my arms. 

“I can’t forget you, Mira,” I say, stepping closer. “Why are you avoiding…us?” The space between us is charged as electricity swirls around us. “Remember us? All those nights we went stargazing? Our picnics? Those daisy chains you made me? You can’t tell me you don’t—”

“Of course I remember,” she interrupts, tears glistening in her eyes. My heart aches at the sight. “I remember everything, Yeonjun.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “I remember falling asleep under this willow tree with you. I remember dancing with you. I remember kissing you before sneaking back into my house. I remember everything, okay?” Her voice trembles. “But that doesn’t mean I want to.” 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?”

She looks utterly heartbroken. “Don’t do this to me, Yeonjun. Stop being cruel.”

Her words punch me in the gut and everything comes rushing back. The reason we ended. I’d asked her to our annual ball—our first public appearance together. The Queen would find out. My royal friends would find out. The whole country would find out. She was a wreck for weeks leading up to it, but I reassured her every chance I got that it would be okay. 

She was—and still is—smart, incredibly beautiful, but most of all, I loved her. Why should anyone care if she wasn’t a royal as long as I was in love with her? That should’ve been enough. 

"Yeonjun, darling," my mother's voice sliced through the delicate hum of the ballroom. "I'd like you to meet Princess Penelope. She's your esteemed companion for the evening." Always so professional. 

“Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a strained greeting to Penelope before turning to face my mother.  "May I have a word with you in private?"

Graciously excusing herself, she left me to confront my mother amidst the grandeur of the ballroom. "Why would you do this? I told you I didn’t want to be set up.”

"I understand, Yeonjun," my mother replied with a tight-lipped smile. "But it's time you started considering your future—"

"My future?" I scoffed. "I'm eighteen."

"Exactly," she countered, her tone firm. "You need to think about a suitable partner. Someone who embodies the qualities of a Queen—dignity, wisdom, influence. And most importantly: royal,” she pointed a finger at me. “I won’t be around forever, darling.”

“Do they really need to be royal?”

My mother's smile widened, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

I swallowed what I really needed to say. There’s no way I’d win an argument anyway. With a resigned nod, I returned to Princess Penelope, the weight of my mother's expectations—and I suppose my entire country’s—heavy on my shoulders. So heavy I’d forgotten—

“Mira,” I said under my breath. There she was, staring at me in disbelief as I danced with Princess Penelope. Ignoring the questioning from Penelope, I abandoned her mid-step and made a beeline for Mira, my heart pounding with a mixture of dread and urgency. "Mira, wait!" I called out, desperation lacing my voice as I chased after her out of the ballroom and into the moonlit courtyard.

"Why, Yeonjun?" Mira's voice cracked as she finally turned to face me, tears staining her cheeks. "Why would you do this?"

"I had no choice," I confessed, my mother’s expectations running circles in my mind. “My mother made me.” 

"You could've told me," Mira interjected, her voice trembling.

"When?" I demanded, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I only found out thirty minutes ago—"

"You could've texted me.”

"I can't risk—"

"What, people finding out about us?" Mira's voice rose with each word, her anguish palpable in the cool night air. “Are you ever going to tell The Queen about us?” Squeezing the bridge of my nose, my eyes twist shut. “Well?” 

Looking at her—possibly for the last time—she looked absolutely beautiful. Her gown was perfect. Soft lavender satin that caught the light as it cascaded down the skirt, a glimmer of fuschia reflecting in the light. I wanted nothing but to hug her, to feel the satin on my fingertips. The sweetheart neckline was gorgeous on her, accentuating her frame perfectly. The M necklace rested around her neck. Her hair was absolutely perfect—she’d been trying out styles for weeks and the final choice was supposed to be a surprise.

“Answer me, Yeonjun.”

I couldn’t do that anymore. Mother meant what she said to me earlier that night: they must be royal. “Just go home,” I said, turning to leave her there alone. Breaking her heart was the best thing to do in the moment. If I could never truly be with her, breaking it off right then and there was the easiest thing for both of us. 

“What? Why—”

“What do you expect, Mira? You’re not royalty. You’re nothing,” I said. “Now go home.”

Too stunned to speak, I stare at her in disbelief. How could I have been so evil to her? What was I thinking? Why did I forget that? Must’ve blocked it from my memory. And now that I’m older, I’d never let some stupid outdated rule like that stand in our way. 

“I’m so—”

“Save it,” she says flatly. “I should’ve thrown away the necklace the first time I found it.” Straightening her posture, she wipes the final tear rolling down her cheek, shaking her head to rid of the emotions. “Let’s pretend this whole thing never happened, yeah?” 

Fine. If someone did that to me, if someone told me I was nothing after telling them they were in love with me for six months, I’d probably feel the same way, if I’m honest. 

As I accept my fate, I turn to walk away, but halt in my footsteps. “No,” I start. “I don’t want to forget this—that we ever happened.” She stays standing there, arms crossed, trying to control her breathing. But I hover over her, waiting for a response. “Please. I miss—”

“Don’t.” She snaps, shaking her head. “Don’t even think about starting that bullshit with me…Sir.”

“I told you, Mother set me up with her.”

“I don’t care about that. You told me I was nothing.” Speechless again, I can’t move. “You never even tried to contact me again and you expect me to give you a second chance?”

“That was seven years ago.”

“So?”

“I’m…we’re both so different. I used to be a stupid teenager. I would never— Please—”

“Please, what? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t—” Honestly, I thought maybe we could pick up where we left off, but I don’t know if that’s possible at this point. I hadn’t felt lonely until she showed up, drowning in my endless to do lists, barely ever hanging out with anyone that wasn’t on my staff or another royal. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe think about that first.”

cw. eating food. 

MIRA'S POV

On my days off, I hide away in a gazebo in a quiet part of the garden and sketch. It’s a nice place to escape to, away from everyone while staying close to home. Home. It’s still hard to believe this castle is my home, even if I am just a servant. 

The gazebo sits against a stone wall on one side—one of those that looks so old you wonder how it's still standing, withered with moss growing between the stones, vines going up and around it. The bench theoretically offers lots of seating, but most of it is covered in pots, plants, and gardening supplies. It’s more storage than an intended place to rest. 

My spot was bare when I found it and it gives me a full view of the grounds. To the right, our village is on full display—colorful, quaint, and inviting. To the left, a thick forest stands tall, leaves rustling with the wind.

Someone’s foot crunches the gravel as they walk toward me and my little corner, but I don’t react. As long as I stay relatively still and quiet, no one bothers me. I continue my sketch of those cute squirrels running around together under the willow tree I’ve always loved. Although it’s left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth recently. 

But the presence of a person looms behind me. Can’t I have one quiet day to myself? Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. They’ll leave eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. 

“...Mira?” A familiar voice says, slow and undeniably warm. 

“Oh.” I stand up straight, giving my obligatory curtsy Gemma has ingrained in me since day one. 

“I told you not to do that,” Yeonjun—Prince Yeonjun—says. He’s dressed casually today, cute even. But don’t you dare tell anyone I said that. A simple maroon cashmere sweater that fits perfectly with his dark wash jeans that barely gather at his ankles, exposing his black vans. A short necklace of black beads sits around his neck. One of those outfits you’d see him wearing in a magazine with a caption like, ‘Royals – they’re just like us!’ 

“And I told you, it’s my job,” I say, returning to my seat, continuing my drawing. 

“Not right now though,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s your day off, right?”

“You have my schedule memorized?” 

“No,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his shiny, black hair that I can practically feel on my fingertips. “Why else would you be hiding in my corner?”

“I figured you followed me—your corner?” 

“I wasn’t following you,” he says, walking closer before rocking back on his heels as he stops. “I read here sometimes.” He holds up a book. “You thought this spot just happened to be clear on its own?” I hum, scooting over and patting the bench next me. “You’re really okay with me here? I don’t want to bother you,” he says, as genuine as one can sound. But I’m still surprised. Sure, he’s not the demanding type, but I don’t know if I’d act the same if I were royalty. 

“To be fair, I was here first,” I say smugly. Although, he is still my boss. It doesn’t matter that we know each other from that past. I add a quick, “...Sir.” for good measure. “Go ahead and sit.”

“Don’t you hate me?” He asks and I chuckle, but when I look up, I see he’s serious. 

“No, I don’t hate you,” I say. “I’ve moved on, Yeonjun.”

Shrugging, he sits near me, opening his book. I tried to get a peek at the title, but I never got the chance without being too obvious. As he sits next to me, I must admit his presence adds a peaceful comfort to what would typically be a relatively silent, if not boring, morning. There’s even a sort of completeness. Birds seem to be chirping more harmoniously. The clouds have disappeared. Oh, what am I saying? That’s ridiculous. That’s a coincidence, Mira. 

“You still draw?” He perks up, pulling me from my thoughts. 

“Of course,” I answer immediately. 

“What are you working on?” Straightening on the bench, I riffle through some papers quickly, trying to hide any potentially embarrassing sketches I don’t want him to see. 

“Just sketches.”

He nods, curiosity etched on his face. “Can I see?” 

“Uh,” I clear my throat. “Sure,” I say, sitting one of my feet on the ground, turning toward him. Our knees brush each other for a moment, but I quickly move it out of his way. Smiling, he examines my drawing of my favorite willow tree I finished yesterday before bed. My cheeks flush as I remember why it was on my mind while drawing, but I hope he doesn’t draw that conclusion. 

“Ah, you’ve gotten so much better.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I chuckle. 

“I just mean,” he looks at me, eyebrows raised in defense. “I can tell you’ve been working on it, I dunno. How else would I say that?”

“That’s fine,” I say. Awkwardness fills the air as I shift my weight around. 

“I’ve been doing pottery, you know.”

I do know. But I’m not supposed to be listening in on their conversations at dinner. I can’t help I’m nosy. I simply ask, “Really?” Humming, he pulls out his phone. 

“This one just came out of the kiln.” He hands me his phone—I wonder what world secrets are on Prince Yeonjun’s phone—to show me a beautifully hand thrown vase. The body is smooth and cylindrical with a slightly tapered neck that gracefully flares out at the top. White glaze covers the surface, contrasting with the thick organic strokes of black glaze. Small, oval handles are attached on both sides. “I just learned how to do handles.” 

“Oh my gosh, Yeonjun…” My breath is taken away. I had no idea he was such an incredible artist. It looks like it was plucked straight out of a museum. “It’s gorgeous.” He always was one to do things perfectly—an all-or-nothing kinda guy. 

“Thanks,” he smiles, pressing his lips together. 

“Show off,” I say, lightly nudging his arm with my elbow.  

An hour or so passes and I’ve switched sitting positions several times, eventually landing on a classic leaned-back-against-the-wall position with my feet up on the bench so I can use my knees and thighs as a desk. He’s barely moved an inch though, sitting happily with his back pressed against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, reading. 

I barely notice my toes absent-mindedly tucking themselves under his thigh like I used to do when we were—

“Oh!” A servant that I haven’t learned the name of yet stumbles in on us, carrying a tray full of food. “I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay,” Yeonjun says, but I’m doing everything I can to hide my face. This can’t get back to the other servants. They’re all such gossips, which I guiltily love, but that doesn’t mean I want them gossiping about me. “Come on over, Natalie.”

“I swear I didn’t tell her about your spot, Sir,” Natalie says nervously.

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay,” he offers a gentle smile, reaching out for the tray, dismissing her after she curtsies, scurrying off quickly. “Don’t worry,” Yeonjun says to me. “She keeps all my secrets—she’s the only one that knows I come out here. She won’t say anything about,” he trails off, gesturing his hand between us.

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Alright,” he sighs. “You hungry?”

“No.” My stomach growls at the worst possible moment. 

“I kinda feel like you are.” I ignore him, focusing on my drawing. “I asked her to bring another meal. You can have it if you want.” 

Peeking over my sketchbook, the tray is fully decked out in sandwiches that look absolutely delicious; sides of mac and cheese and fruits, complete with two glasses of water and a little flower.

“I suppose I’m pretty hungry.” My stomach growls again at the sight of it. “Oh, ignore that; she’s been fussy all day.” I scooch closer to him hesitantly accepting the offer. 

“Mira,” Yeonjun starts. I hum, reaching for a pineapple slice. “Why are all the staff afraid of me?”

“Huh?” I look up at him.

“You saw how nervous Natalie was just thinking I might be mad at her.”

“I think you forget you’re a literal prince,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Are you scared of me?”

Hm. That’s an interesting question. No, of course I’m not scared of you. Why would I be? But perhaps the real answer is Yes, but in the way that everyone makes fun of when people say it out loud. Honestly, I am afraid. Afraid of falling for him again. Getting my heart broken again. We’ve barely talked since I started working here, but I know how convincing he can be. If I’m not careful, he’ll have me wrapped around his finger by next week. 

And let’s not forget he told me I was nothing. That kind of thing doesn’t simply go away. 

I wonder if he’s ever said something like that to one of the servants. Does he think all non-royalty are nothing? No, he wouldn’t be like that anymore. But how would I really know?

Shrugging, I finally say, “No.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

I roll my eyes, “I don’t know, Jjun—” I catch myself as that dumb nickname comes out of my stupid fucking mouth. What’s wrong with me? He looks at me with wide eyes. “Uh, Yeonjun…Sir.” Let’s just pretend like nothing happened. “You said some hurtful stuff to me. Have you said anything like that to one of them?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You could ask a servant if they’re scared of you.”

“I just did,” he points out. Right. I’m…a servant. I keep forgetting that bit when we’re alone. When we’re alone, it's like we’re friends. It’s casual and comfortable. See? What did I tell you? A few hours of silence followed by a few minutes of talking and I’m right back to where I was seven years ago. Stop being so pathetic. 

“Ah.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” I chuckle. “You’re right. But maybe ask a servant that seems like they’re scared of you. They’re probably scared of Gemma more than anything.”

As we wrap up our lunch, his phone buzzes—a calendar reminder probably. 

"I have to get going," he announces, moving efficiently to gather the remnants of our meal onto the tray. But as he stands to leave, an inexplicable urge pulls at me, begging him to stay. Please don’t do this, Mira. Don’t be stupid. 

With a gentle smile, he suggests, "I'll talk to you later?" It's then that I realize I’ve been staring at him in silence for the past who knows how long. "Oh, you have a leaf in your hair." I attempt to remove it myself, but without a mirror, it’s proving to be difficult. "Here," he offers, leaning down. My mind screams at me to resist, but his closeness sends a rush of warmth through my body. With gentle precision, he plucks the leaf away, discarding it casually.

Yet, instead of stepping away, he stays close. I pretend not to notice the magnetic pull between us. Stop it. Admit it. You want him to stay. Straightening my posture, we’re almost leaning into each other, like we’re about to—no. Our gazes dart between each other's lips, ghosts of his touch haunting my senses. Does he still taste the same?

The cool breeze snaps me back to reality. What were you thinking? "Thanks," I mumble, retreating to reestablish a distinct boundary.

"No worries," he replies. The fading sound of his footsteps on gravel leaves me facepalming.

How can I be this close to him without seeing him? Without falling for him again? There’s only one thing to do. 

Avoid him at all costs.

cw. sexual tension, suggestive.  

MIRA'S POV

“Didn’t you finish Mother’s painting in two weeks?” Prince Yeonjun asks, leaning against the doorframe to the sunroom. It’s become my makeshift painting studio. Once the Queen found out I sometimes do art, she thought it’d be a good idea to commission me for new portraits to replace the old ones in the Great Hall. I like painting and I need the money so I of course said yes. 

“Mm-hmm,” I nod, finishing up the final touches on the pattern of his royal cloak. “I’ve been busier recently,” I lie. In the painting, he sits with an arm resting atop a piano against a backdrop of rich velvet curtains like the ones in the living room. The intricate details of his uniform are perfect if I do say so myself. His face, though, is a grey blob with a basic sketch. I work off photographs for the most part, but for faces, I like them sitting right in front of me to get every detail.

But him sitting a foot away from me while I carefully analyze every detail of his face for hours does not sound like a good idea right now. Even if it does sound appealing. 

“You almost ready for me?” 

I should get it over with, but my hands are tired and I have a lot of tasks for my actual job to do before the end of the day.

“Tomorrow,” I say, walking my paintbrushes to the sink. “Does that work for you?” He’s quiet, so I look over my shoulder to make sure he heard me. Pushing himself off the doorframe, he shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“Y-yeah,” he says. “That should work.”

“Okay.” I wipe my paintbrushes with a towel. “Meet here after lunch?” Smiling gently, he nods. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to my real job. See you tomorrow,” I say with a curtsy. 

Tomorrow comes way too fast. I brush my teeth, floss, use mouthwash, and chew some gum to get rid of any trace of my lunch. Dragging my feet down the hallway, I can’t get there slow enough. 

“Ah, Mira,” he says with a smile that warms me from the inside out. I respond with a simple hello, but I’m already burning up as I gather my brushes and paints while he watches me in silence. I realize I’d forgotten to curtsy, but I decide to omit it this time considering he hates it so much. 

“The Queen sat on this stool when I painted her,” I say, moving the stool into place. “You might need to adjust the height.” While he does that, I mix a base for his skin. Starting by mixing the primary colors to get a deep brown, I add a good amount of white to lighten it up then a good amount of yellow and a touch of red for warmth. “Sit still,” I giggle, holding my palette knife next to his cheek. His shoulders rise and fall with his breathing while I add more brown to darken it a bit. Clasping my hands together, I say, “Alright, I’ll be painting for at least two hours, so do anything else you need to do.” 

“I’m good.” 

Shrugging, I adjust my easel so he’s in my sightline but not too close.

Two minutes into painting, he asks, “So how’s your day been?”

“Good. You?” 

“Good,” he responds. I truly don’t mind silence between us two, but I must admit this silence is deafening. “Do you work in silence or can you talk?”

I giggle and say, “I can talk. Or you can play music if you want.” 

“How about both?” I nod. “Alexa, play classical music to focus,” he pauses, waiting for it to respond and start playing. “Tell me what you’re working on.”

“Well,” I start, swishing my brush into some clean water. “I’d already had a basic sketch of your face, but I made some skin tones first. A base, a highlight, and a shadow,” I say, showing him my palette. “Then I’ll go in and fine tune everything.” 

Time passes by—I’ve honestly always liked simply existing near him. We used to do this all the time back when we were dating. Sit near each other and just be. Quietly. Like the other day in the garden when I was drawing and he was reading. It’s peaceful. I can focus. 

It smells like that day in here—soil and paint. Whoever keeps up with these plants is great at their job. They’re gorgeous even in the winter.

“Now I’m working on your eyes,” I say matter-of-factly. Part of me starts with his eyes to get it over with and avoid them as soon as I can, but the other part counts myself lucky that I have reason to stare at them for the next thirty minutes or so. I mix a deep, cool brown and dip my pinkie into it to hold it up next to his eye. “I’m, um,” I glance down. “I’m gonna touch your face.” My pinkie rests on the apple of his cheek so I can get as close as I can to his eye without touching it. “Open your eyes.” 

Damn. Those eyes are like mirrors reflecting my deepest emotions. The world around us fades. I almost drop my palette. Glimpses of our history, our laughter, tears, and dreams we’ve shared together swirl around in them. They take my breath away. 

Realizing we’re staring at each other, I snap out of it, jerking my hand away from him and dive into painting them instead of gazing into them. 

“First try?” I hum in question. “You got the color of my eyes right on the first try?” My ears warm up.

“Well, you know…” I say, my head hanging low. “They’re the same as the Queen’s.” Lie. The Queen’s are much warmer. Hues of deep mahogany and amber; they’re vibrant with hints of gold and copper that catch the light. They glow in the sun. His, on the other hand, are intensely dark. Deep and rich like shadowy moonlight. You could get lost in them like a maze at night. They’re like reading a book by candlelight. They’re gorgeous. 

“Why do I need to be here again?” He asks and I look jokingly offended. “I mean, you worked off photos up until now.”

“So I can get the details of your face I might otherwise miss,” I say, closely examining his face. “Like this freckle,” I say, poking the freckle on his right cheek with the end of my paintbrush that I would never miss in a million years. It’s one of my favorites. “Or this little birthmark.” He’s got the slightest purple splotch on his cheek that again, I’d never miss. 

“You’re painting those?”

“Of course,” I say. “They’re part of you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him grazing his fingertips over his cheek, smiling to himself. “Move closer.” Examining his features even closer, I’m a few inches from his face. I, again, realize I’m staring at his face and my heartbeat quickens. I snap back and say, “Um…sorry.”

“You’re okay.”

But this keeps happening. I keep getting close to him, our hearts beating together as our breath gets sharp. And fuck, I miss him. I can’t help but think about if I were doing this for fun, not as a staff person. I used to draw him all the time. 

And now, here he is, grown up, mature, tall, and utterly handsome as I’m forced to paint a larger-than-life portrait of the guy I used to love and thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. I was such a stupid eighteen-year-old. 

He doesn’t stop staring at me. Not when I add details to his nose. Not when I clean my brush. Not when I observe my painting from a distance. I catch his glare. 

“Can you stop staring at me like that?” I ask, a smile teasing my lips. 

“Like what?”

“Like…” I cock my head to the side. 

“Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?” Ah, fuck you. The warmth that rushes through my body is overwhelming and I swear my knees are ready to buckle. My hands tremble as I fight the urge to drop everything. “I don’t think I can stop that, Mira,” he adds softly. 

“You can’t say shit like that to me, Yeonjun,” I manage to say, my smile stubbornly betraying my attempt to stay cool. I keep my eyes on the brush, pretending I’m not seconds away from screaming. 

“Why not?” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“Because…” I finally look over at him, incredibly close to me, eyes flitting all over my face, indiscreetly hovering on my lips. Admittedly, my eyes do the same: land on his lips and suddenly the only thing I’m thinking about is kissing him. “Because…” I repeat, trying to get me to do literally anything but kiss him in this moment, but we both know that’s the only thing either of us want. Each other. To be together. 

I try to remember what his lips feel like. Strong and passionate. At least they used to be. 

How have they changed now that he’s older and has most likely gone through a few serious partners and several hook-ups? Are they softer and more loving now that he’s not a dumb ego-ridden eighteen-year-old? Are they even stronger now that he’s found himself and has solidified his position as a Prince? I wonder. No. Don’t do this. Oh, but why not? 

In one ear, the wise and cautious version of me begs me to refrain from kissing him. Don’t do this, Mira. Remember how heartbroken you were. Mixing romance with your boss is a terrible idea. 

The more rebellious, lust-ridden version of me counters, Look how much hotter he’s gotten. Just make out with him. The Queen is your boss, not him. You could always make out with him, maybe even fuck him, and pretend like nothing happened. 

Wise Mira gasps, That’s mean! 

Right, Lustful Mira says. But he was mean to her. 

Listen to me, Wise Mira chirps up. Don’t kiss him at all. 

Lustful Mira chimes in again, But Mira…look how absolutely delicious his lips look. You want him. He clearly wants you. Don’t you wanna—

“Because I said so.”

He chuckles, “Fair enough.” 

cw. brief mentions of alcohol, cunnilingus, fingering, mira briefly feels self conscious about her body and pubic hair, mira lies to a stranger, begging, yj sneaks into a room she's in, sir kink. 

MIRA'S POV

"What are you wearing friday?" Hyomin casually asks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she effortlessly dusts the coffee table while I clean the windows—the newbie’s job. 

"Aren't we supposed to wear our uniforms?"

"Oh no, darling! The quarterly dinners are the sacred day we break free from the uniform chains—as long as it’s formal." Hyomin is one of few servants I genuinely like. Most of the others are constantly trying to play the game to move up the ladder—none of them really want to be friends. 

The ones that aren’t too busy playing the game are too on edge, following each rule to the letter. 

Yeonjun—Prince Yeonjun, I correct myself for the millionth time—unexpectedly knocks on the door. I, Hyomin, and Natalie perform our obligatory curtsies, even though I know he hates it. If we don’t though, Gemma fusses at us, which he also knows, so he plays along.

"Excuse me," he says, clearing his throat. "Could I trouble someone for a refill on my coffee?"

Natalie, always willing to volunteer, seizes the opportunity and responds quickly. "Certainly, Sir." She breezes by the coffee table to scoop up the metal coffee pot resting on it, returning to the Prince to pour him a fresh mug. 

Our eyes catch each other, a small yet obnoxiously noticeable smile appears on both our faces. Hyomin nudges my arm and mumbles, "And you've gotta wear something extra special for him, right?" What? My eyes widen, shock and annoyance evident in my expression. Shooting a piercing glare at her, I’m rendered momentarily speechless. Hyomin persists, her voice low, "Oh, don't act all innocent. I've seen how you two look at each other.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A mischievous smile plays on her lips, "It's adorable, really. The blushing, the hair-tucking when he says hello, the clumsy encounters,” she says, tilting her head toward him. “Look how red his ears are.” I must admit, they are pretty pink. “We all talk about it, you know.”

“Did Natalie say something?”

“No,” she says confused, but her look soon turns suspicious. “Why would she?” Damn it. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? I avoid eye contact, hoping she’ll give up, but I doubt she ever will. “Mira, why would Natalie say something?”

“No idea.” 

She hums knowingly. "Yeah, right. You two are so obviously dating, it’s ridiculous,” she says, folding the decorative blanket that hangs on the back of the couch while he leaves the room. “We're all waiting for the announcement."

“We are not dating.”

Persistent as ever, Hyomin challenges again, "Look me in the eye right now and swear you haven’t at least kissed him."

I stand tall, smoothing the skirt of my uniform, then take a deep breath and lock eyes with her. “I swear I haven’t kissed him.”

Hyomin narrows her gaze, searching for any crack in my expression. My stomach churns, and before I can stop it, the words spill out in an unfiltered confession.

“…in seven years.”

Damn it. How did she get that out of me?

“What?”

“Shh—!”

“But wh-what do you mean?” She giggles, eager to hear what I’m assuming is the best gossip in years. Although, with royals, there has to have been something juicier than a teenage romance, right?

Motioning for secrecy, I say, “Promise you won’t say anything to the other servants. Please.” Hyomin nods, an expression that practically screams, Spill it. “We knew each other when we were teenagers. We dated then, okay? We broke up seven years ago. I’ve barely spoken to him since.” 

“Oh. My. God. Oh my god, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!”

“Calm down.” I hold my hands up. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? It’s a huge deal,” she exclaims. “Y’all are totally still into each other.” 

“I mean, he’s cute,” I say. “But that ship has sailed.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.” I nod. “We’re just too different.”

“I dunno, I think—”

“Nope.”

“I just mean—”

“Drop it, Hyomin. It will never happen.” My words carry a finality to the discussion.

“Fine,” she concedes, folding her dust rag to place on the table. “The question still stands—what are you wearing Friday?”

Shrugging, I shake my head, “I don’t have anything formal.”

“A perfect excuse for a shopping trip—let’s go into town tomorrow,” she suggests. “I’ll get someone to cover for us for the lunch service.” 

-

“Ah, look at you!” Hyomin cheers. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

“I can’t remember the last time I got this dressed up.” Actually, I do. That night. The night he broke my heart. But I’m not thinking about that right now. In fact, I won’t be thinking about Yeonjun at all tonight. 

Walking down the stairs into the royal hall, the silk of my dress rustles gently as it shimmers in the light. It’s a gorgeous deep viridian that cascades to the floor, creating an ethereal effect with every move I make. The bodice is fitted perfectly, with boning that snatches my waist and makes my tits look amazing. The off-the-shoulder straps elegantly drape across my arms. To complete the look, I’m wearing gold dangle earrings and my hair is styled in loose waves that cascade down one of my shoulders. Around my neck is a delicate circle pendant with a moon stamped into it. 

It’s simply beautiful in here. I’d helped set it up this morning, but seeing the guests dressed up, hearing the musicians playing, the grandeur of it all—it takes my breath away. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation with an occasional loud laugh. 

One couple glides along the dancefloor in each other’s arms, both of their dresses flowing gracefully across the dancefloor. A group of young people wearing crowns and tiaras clink their glasses near the champagne tower. Someone else checks their jacket at the front door. 

Deep emerald velvet curtains drape along the walls, adding even more drama. Every detail of the Hall has been meticulously curated to evoke a sense of luxury. 

“Excuse me,” someone says as they brush my shoulder. “Oh.” It’s Yeon—Prince Yeonjun. “Hello.” I nod to him before my obligatory curtsy. Not even trying to hide the fact that he looks me up and down, he makes my cheeks burn. “You look…” He clears his throat. “Um, really pretty.” Well, there goes me not thinking about him at all tonight. How could I put him out of my mind when he looks like this? Positively sexy as hell in his prince uniform. So regal, rich, and powerful. 

“Thank you, Sir,” I say. I catch Hyomin out of the corner of my eye looking stiff as a board with her mouth hanging open. 

Extending his arm out, he asks me, “Care to dance?”

God, I’d fucking love to. How did he do this to me so quickly? We have one nice conversation, maybe a few glances in the hallway and suddenly he’s making my heart race like he did when we were dating. “I don’t think it would look very good for either of us if you were dancing with one of your servants.” Is that even true? I don’t know. 

He nods, pressing his lips together. “I’ll see you later then?”

“When?” I ask as he raises an eyebrow. I hope I didn’t sound too desperate. “I just mean, I don’t know why we would see each other.”

“Right,” he says. “Well, have a good evening.” He nods gently at me and then to Hyomin before walking away. 

Turning to Hyomin, she looks at me with a wide smile and knowing glare. She’s such a smug bitch. “Oh my god,” she gasps under her breath, drawing the edge of her wine glass to her lips. “Look at Prince Sipho over there.” Tilting her head to the side, she adds, “He may be even dreamier than Yeonjun.”

I scoff in my head, but I’d never tell anyone that. Instead, I murmur, “Where?”

“Right over there,” she smirks, tipping her head toward a literal tall, dark, and handsome man. Commanding the room with his height, he undeniably catches my gaze—not an eye contact that stops time in its tracks, but one where we can’t take our eyes off each other. 

Prince Sipho pushes his way through the crowd toward me, but I can’t help but wonder where Yeonjun is. Actually, why do I care at all? Shaking the thought out of my mind, I welcome this new prince’s hand reaching for my own as he delicately touches my knuckles with the poutiest part of his lips. I suppose he’s too much of a gentleman to fully press them to my skin. 

“May I have this dance?” He asks, looking up at me through his eye lashes. So formal. Quickly glancing at Hyomin, she gives me an eager nod. I guess the servants will have something to gossip about later. At least that’ll replace the conversations about me and Yeonjun. 

“Yes, you may,” I say, returning the formality. We do all the obligatory dancing things—hand on my waist, mine around his neck, holding each other’s free hands. Slowly stepping with the classy romantic music of the string quintet, he admittedly looks stunning in his formal wear—baby blue with gold trim. The baby blue brings out the radiant sapphire undertones of his deep brown skin, the gold showcasing the warmth of his amber irises. 

“So,” he starts, his voice deep and rumbling. “Who am I dancing with?” 

Without any hesitation, I lie, “Charlotte.”

“Well, Charlotte,” he says. “You’re on Prince Yeonjun’s staff?” I blink up at him with confusion etched on my face. How did he— “The rose?” He asks, tilting his head toward my chest where a delicate ivory rose is pinned to my dress to differentiate us from the guests in case someone needs something from us. 

“Ah,” I giggle. “Yes. Yes, I am.” Where is he anyway? No. I’m not dancing with Prince Sipho to make Yeonjun jealous—I’m dancing with him because he’s hot, seems sweet, and seems to think I’m hot too. Why would he be watching anyway? This is his party. He’s probably busy schmoozing with some high-stakes donors or some other royals. 

Prince Sipho’s hand glides down to the spot right above my ass—he’s really testing the boundaries, huh? I love it. But guilt twinges my heart. Half of me hopes he isn’t watching this and the other half hopes he is. I don’t know which is worse. 

A loud crash brings the room to a halt and I try to locate where the accident is, but Hyomin waves me over. “Damn it,” I murmur. “I’ve gotta go…clean that up. Excuse me.”

After rushing to clean up the broken glass, I return the broom to the closet that’s three times the size of my bedroom. I take my time putting it back—a break from the hustle and bustle of the party is very much needed right now. The click of the deadbolt jolts my heart. 

A million things run through my mind. A creep is in here with me. Hyomin locked it from the outside and forgot about me and now I’m locked in until someone remembers to come get me. How long am I gonna be in here? Is someone in here with me?

“Hello.”

“Oh,” I say, relieved. “Hello, Sir.” I curtsy, tilting my head toward Prince Yeonjun as he steps into the light. Why is he in here anyway? I’ve been trying so hard to avoid him since the garden when we almost—nevermind. But he’s weaseled his way into my life. Telling the Queen I paint so I’d paint those portraits of them—yeah, I saw right through that bullshit. Bumping into me earlier tonight. But there’s nowhere to run now. We’re utterly alone. 

That’s terrifying. 

He’s never looked at me like this. Dark pupils dilated with lust and desire. It makes my heart race and I stumble back, tripping over some old cardboard boxes, but I catch myself on the countertop. 

Walking toward me, he keeps his hands in his pockets, but manages to box me in, cornering me and standing tall over me, intimidating and somehow…safe. I know he’d never hurt me. Physically at least. But I also can’t wait to see what he does next. 

“So it’s okay for you to dance with Prince Sipho but not me?” His voice grumbles with the low hum of the music right outside the door. 

“I’m not one of his servants,” I say matter-of-factly. “Why do you care anyway?” I ask cheekily as he creeps closer and closer. So close I’m fully backed into this counter now, almost sitting on top of it. “What are you—” 

“Can I kiss you?”

“No,” I answer quickly. 

“Mira…” he sighs. “How can you expect me not to kiss you when you look like that?” That makes me feel things all throughout my body that I definitely shouldn’t be feeling for ex-boyfriends, especially an ex-boyfriend that’s also my boss. And the prince of my country. 

My mouth parts and I swear I tried my best not to lick my lips. “Don’t kiss my mouth,” I say. I told Hyomin I haven’t kissed him in seven years. At least that’ll still be true after whatever happens next. 

Reaching for my hand with his white-glove-clad one, he places a gentle yet devastatingly sensual kiss to the back of it, looking up at me through his eyelashes like Prince Sipho did moments ago. But he had nowhere near the effect Yeonjun has on me. I bet he can smell the nail polish from when Hyomin painted it on my nails a few hours ago. As his perfect pouty lips kiss my hand, I can’t help but wonder how those lips would feel in other places. 

“You look—” he stops for another kiss on my palm. “Absolutely—” then the pulse-point of my wrist. “Stunning.” Then inside my elbow. Making his way up higher, my breath hitches in the back of my throat. “As usual,” he adds. 

That fucker. 

He’s always been like this. Silky smooth then sugary sweet. It gives me whiplash. 

Eventually, his lips explore my collarbone. “You’re so warm.” I don’t know how I got up here, but I’m fully sitting on the counter now. His hands are all over me—brushing my upper arms, grazing the smooth satin of the dress that covers my thighs, digging into the folds of my hips. 

How did this happen? How did I go from dancing with one Prince—a perfectly nice and gentlemanly prince—to sharing this romantic…something with Prince Yeonjun? Something because it’s not a kiss, it’s not more than a kiss, but it’s certainly not less than a kiss. It’s…something. 

His palm brushes the side of my breast and he stops himself from pushing any further before he whispers in my ear, “Can I touch you?”

“I think you already are.”

Firmly squeezing my tit over my dress, I groan as my back arches. Oh my fucking god. Is this real?

Something in his body language switches at the sound of my groaning and he drops everything to get to his knees. He pushes the skirt of my dress up and past my thighs, looking up at me for permission.

Is he…? 

My pussy clenches around nothing at the sheer thought of those gorgeous plump lips around my clit. I let him explore further with his lips without any hesitation whatsoever. Then they’re inside my thighs, slowly moving closer where I desperately need him. Nerves fill my stomach. Flashbacks of other guys going to taste me and not liking what they find enter my mind. Is that gonna happen with him? Is he gonna be turned off by my hair? My stretch marks? The way my fat thighs cover his ears?

As much as my inner feminist hates those thoughts, there’s always that twinge of embarrassment that I still haven’t managed to work through. 

“Yeonjun…” I sigh. “You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?” He asks. “Do you want me to?” Obviously. I nod. Pressing his lips to the outside of my panties, he breathes me in and I realize he’s never been this close to me. Ever. 

Sure, we’ve kissed, but we were teenagers, we had no idea what we were doing. It never got this far. Never got past the occasional makeout session on my picnic blanket under the willow tree. “You smell so good.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious. You smell delicious.” 

Lips delicate and careful, he takes his time. I never thought this is how it would be with him. I always thought of him as the kind of guy to get straight to it. At least that’s how I imagined it—him embracing me because he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed me right then and there. Whisking me off to his bedroom to undress me, never careful, never delicate. 

But I love it. Love taking a deep breath, letting my head lull back onto the wall behind me, my entire body relaxing. The feeling of a tongue flicking my clit for the first time in months, and the first time it’s his tongue. I card my hand through his hair, gripping some strands between my fingers. Mouth dropping open, I sigh, looking down at him, eyes closed, fully entranced by my taste. Thank fuck he knows exactly what he’s doing now. 

The softness of his white cotton gloves feels like heaven against the heat of my thighs, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want his bare hands on me. 

Like a mind-reader, he plucks his gloves off, one finger at a time, putting me under a spell as he goes. I stare at him as he loosens the glove by pulling on the pointer finger, then the middle, the ring, his pinky, then tugging it all the way off. It’s so sexy. I think I caught a small smirk, but it's just dark enough for it to be hidden. 

The tip of his finger teases my entrance and I can tell— “Fuck,” he gasps. “You’re so wet, darling.”

Don’t call me that. But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud…I’m not even sure I’d mean it if I did. He finally pushes his finger all the way inside me, curling the tip of it to find just the right spot that makes me absolutely moan. He lets go of my skirt to grip my thighs, finally feeling him squeeze and touch me after all these years of wanting him. I beg myself not to stop him and make him touch me everywhere before continuing. 

My pointer fingers graces his and he intertwines his fingers with mine. Something this intimate only happens between lovers, right? Holding hands while fucking in the closet when there’s a party right outside the door? I can’t decide if this is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done or if it’s the most romantic thing. 

Arguing with myself internally, a second finger breaches my entrance, filling me even more so than before. He’s incredible…almost skillful with his fingers. It’s sexy. And exciting. 

Expertly flicking his tongue, he finds the perfect spot with his fingertips, forcing me to buck my hips…fuck I’m so close already. How did he do this to me?

“Please…”

Everything comes to a halt. “Please what?”

“Fuck, Yeonjun, don’t do that to me.” 

“Don’t do what to you? Get you to talk to me?” I look down, defeated. How am I supposed to respond to that? Is that the only reason he’s doing this? Because I’ve been avoiding him and this was the only way he could think of to get me to talk to him? “Tell me what you want. What are you asking for?” Oh. It’s like that. Okay. 

“Please…” It’s already unbelievable that we’re doing this in a closet with a party going on outside. Prince Yeonjun is on his knees for me. And he’s making me beg? I can hardly take it. “Uh…” I stutter, trying to close my legs instinctively. He backs off, eyebrows furrowed. He’s worried about me. I didn’t mean it like that. “You’re not finished yet, are you?” I ask, pushing him back closer with my heel. 

“I’ll finish when you tell me what you want.”

Gracing my finger under his chin, I force him to look at me in the eye before saying, “Make me come. I need it so bad. Please.”  

Cocking his head to the side, he says, “I’ve always wanted to hear you beg for me.” 

My chest heaves as he dives back in for more, flicking his tongue the way I love, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” 

“You are delicious.” I’d love it if he could talk to me the way I—and hopefully he—likes. Dirty, up close and in my ear, but this’ll have to do for now. He can get to the real good stuff later. Will there be a later though? 

A white-hot feeling that someone hasn’t made me feel in quite some time quickly approaches. Deep in the pit of my stomach, it bubbles as my body tenses, breath shallow and quick. It builds and builds until all I want to hear him say is Come for me, darling. I know you’re so close. But I know he won’t. He has to stick to the matter at hand. 

With a sharp inhale, I moan and whimper, euphoria washing over me as my thighs tighten around his head. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this good. He’s incredibly talented—like I said, he’s an all or nothing kinda guy and I love that about him. 

“Fuck. Oh my god,” I gasp, my hips rolling needing more, more, more. Goddamn, I’m in trouble. “Holy shit.” I trail off, my breathing shallow. My eyes squeeze shut as my head drops back before my body starts flinching. “Thank you, Sir.”

My body goes slack as he slows down. Once I catch my breath, my eyes flutter open to see him looking at me with a cheeky smirk. He’s so fucking smug. 

“Sir?” 

Shit. That is just about the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve been correcting myself for weeks, reminding myself to call him Prince Yeonjun, Your Majesty, Sir. I know he hates when I call him that, even in normal scenarios. I can’t imagine how mad he is now that I’ve called him that while giving me an orgasm. Not just any orgasm, though. One of the best I’ve had in months. All while wearing our formal wear too. Fuck, he looks so sexy in his uniform. Especially with it slightly disheveled, hair messy, gloves off. 

“It must’ve slipped.”

He simply stands, darkness and lust still in his eyes as his hands grip my hips, squeezing harshly before moving them up further to my waist. His right hand trails up even higher, cupping my face to force my ear to line up with his lips. “Call me that again next time.” Next time? There’s gonna be a next time? “Got it?”

Speechless, I compose myself before whispering, “Yes, Sir.”  

cw. cunnilingus, mentions of previous bjs and hand jobs, mira is described as chubby/fat/curvy in a good way, hickeys, biting, masturbation.

YEONJUN'S POV

“Mira,” I say simply as she walks by me looking gorgeous as always. Since our little rendezvous in the butler’s closet last month, we’ve “seen” each other several times since, each meeting ending with at least one of us coming. Nothing beyond oral and hand stuff—we still haven’t kissed or seen each other fully naked yet—but even so, it’s been amazing. She’s so good at it all. The teasing, the touching, the talking, all of it. I don’t think I can pick a favorite moment.

Maybe when she asked me to give her hickeys on the inside of her thighs. Her whispering, Give me hickeys, please…wanna look down and imagine you’re there after you’re gone. Oof. Chills. 

Or maybe when she laid her back against my chest and I rubbed her clit so perfectly, she dug her nails into my forearm for dear life, so hard it broke skin. I had to wear long sleeves for three days. 

Perhaps her seeing my cock for the first time, eyes wide as she said Oh my god, Sir. You have a beautiful cock. No one’s ever called me beautiful before, let alone my dick. That made me giddier than I even thought possible. 

“Yeon—Sir,” she quickly corrects herself in case anyone’s listening. Glancing around, we’re the only ones nearby. “You look nice. New uniform jacket?” I nod. 

Tonight’s occasion is much less grand than our first night together. A simple gathering with a few royals. It was the high-stakes donors I was hoping to get some money from tonight, but they’re all donationed-out it seems. 

“You look…” I look over her, never subtle about ogling her. “Absolutely stunning. New dress?” She subtly tilts her head. I stuff my hands in my pockets. What’s the point of delaying it any more? “I need to taste you again.”

“Already? You ate me out yesterday.”

“What can I say?” I chuckle. “I’ve got a craving.” She takes a deep breath before nodding at me, not changing her facial expression. “Closet, five minutes?” 

The closet isn’t the only place we’ve had our meetings but it is definitely our most frequented spot. Honorable mentions include the library, the sunroom, and under the willow tree where she laid back against me. That was only once but it was magical. 

As she turns away, I can’t help but wonder what the rest of her looks like. She’s got what feels like the most perfect ass, but I still haven’t gotten a good look at it. And her tits…good lord what I’d give to bury my face between her bare tits. 

“Prince Yeonjun?”

“Ah, Prince Sipho,” I say, returning his bow. “Nice to see you again.” He holds his hands behind him and maintains his intimidating eye contact. “I hope you’re enjoying dinner.”

“Can I ask for a favor?” He asks, almost urgently. 

“Sure.”

“I saw you were talking to Charlotte,” he says. “I danced with her last month and I never got her phone number.” His expression softens. “I realize how awkward and potentially inappropriate this is considering she’s on your staff. Would you mind providing me with her phone number?”

“I’m sorry,” I begin. “I don’t think I know a Charlotte.”

“You were just speaking with her,” he says matter-of-factly. “Right over there.” He tilts his head in the direction of…Mira? Happily prancing off in the direction of the closet. Our closet. Oh no. 

I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. Someone was bound to be interested in her at some point. I just didn’t think my competition would be another handsome prince. What am I saying? Competition? Stop being such an ass.

“You can ask her yourself, you know.” 

“Fair enough.”

“I don’t think now’s a good time though,” I rush to say, stopping him in his tracks before he turns around. “She’s busy. I just sent her to do a task.”

“Then I suppose you should give me her number now, then?”

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I finally speak up to say, “I’ll talk to her first. You know, make sure she’s comfortable with me giving out her phone number.”

“Of course.” He tilts his head and walks away. My mind races with questions. Did he sweep her off her feet? Have they slept together? Or worse: have they kissed? Why does he think her name is Charlotte? But I’ve gotta get back to the matter at hand.

“You’re already ready for me, hm?” I ask, seeing her proudly sitting on the countertop, waiting for me. She nods cutely, wiggling her feet back and forth. Locking the door, I take my gloves off one finger at a time before stuffing them in my pocket for safe keeping. Then I loosen my collar a bit, something I know she thinks is hot, so I always make a show out of it just for her. 

As I step closer, she grips the edge of the counter so tightly the veins on the back of her hand pop out. She crosses her ankles and looks down briefly but puts on a brave face to stare me in the eye. Wrapping my arms around her, I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. 

“You smell so good.” I’ve noticed she’s started wearing a specific perfume for special occasions—the gala last month, dinners like these, she even wore it once when she shyly asked me to eat her out again on a random Tuesday. 

“Thank you, Sir.” Never taking my lips off her neck, I feel all over her, albeit over her dress, but she feels lovely. Dropping to my knees, I lift her skirt up to access her thighs with my lips, placing kisses everywhere. And there they are—those gorgeous hickeys I gave her last week. Still there. I swipe my thumb across one before biting her skin gently.

“Can I ask you something?” She hums as I move closer and closer to her center. Glancing up at her, her eyelids have fluttered shut and her hands are in my hair. “Do you know Prince Sipho?” Her hands stop.

“I know of him,” she says plainly. “Why?”

“No reason,” I say, nudging her thigh with my nose to encourage her to open wider. I add, “Said he danced with you and I guess he likes you.” I place a kiss on the outside of her thong right between her pussy lips. “Asked me for your phone number.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“...Oh.” She leans back, resting her hands behind her back for support. Is that a good oh or a bad oh?

“He thinks your name’s Charlotte though.” I chuckle. “What’s that about?”

“I don’t know,” she says awkwardly while I dig my fingers into her thong, pulling it down her legs, still watching her body language carefully. “That’s weird.” 

“Mira.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, but still welcomes my lips around her pussy. “I dunno—I wasn’t interested so I gave him a fake name. Doesn’t everyone do that?”

“Mm…I suppose,” I say, spreading her lips to flick my tongue against her clit. Fuck, she tastes amazing. Every fucking time. Her hand flies to my hair again, taking quick breaths. “Why wouldn’t you be interested in him?” 

“Can we not talk about Prince Sipho while you’re eating me out, please?”

“I was just curious.” 

Why wouldn’t she be interested, though? He’s definitely her type—tall, handsome, smart, royal. 

Images of them dancing together, arms wrapped around each other, his hand sliding further down her back make my vision red. 

Maybe she’s interested in someone else with those same qualities, perhaps even more devastatingly handsome than him. And hilarious, might I add. 

But thinking about her dancing with Sipho while thinking about me makes me giddy. When else does she think about me? When she’s eating breakfast? Doing her chores? Getting ready to go to bed? In the shower? When she touches herself? Oh. That sends shivers down my spine. 

“How often do you think about me, Mira?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when do you think about me?”

She takes a deep breath, letting her head fall back against the wall, the slightest smile flashing over her lips before she says, “When I’m horny.”

“So you think about me when you touch yourself?” 

Her fingers stop again and she looks up, eyes wide like I caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been. I’d never let her see it, but I’m giggling on the inside. She’s so cute. 

“Um,” she clears her throat. “I guess, yeah.” There’s a looming awkward silence while I keep licking her. She’s trying not to react to how good it feels. Trying not to give in. 

“Well, go on.”

“What?” Mira asks. 

“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me exactly what you think about.” She takes a deep breath to collect herself, like she’s trying to hold back her noises and movements. I don’t like that she feels the need to do that with me. If anything, I crave hearing and feeling them. “It’s okay, you can tell me anything.”

Her breath hitches, eyes flitting away before locking back to mine. "I think about you touching me," she admits quietly, but I can tell she’s gaining confidence. "The way you did the first time.” She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I think about your hands on my body," she continues. "The way you knew exactly where to touch me, how to make me feel..."

"How to make you feel what?" I prompt, my hands gently caressing her thighs, urging her to keep going while my mouth is nowhere near her pussy.

"How to make me feel good," she breathes out, her eyes closing as she loses herself in the memory and the feeling of my tongue on her clit. 

“Do you miss it? ” I ask, my breath hot against her skin. "Do you miss me when I’m gone and can’t make you feel good?”

She nods, her breath sharp and quick. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice trembling with desire. "I miss it so much." My hands continue to explore her body, relearning every curve and contour, desperate to rip this dress off her, but we haven’t crossed that boundary yet. 

"What else do you think about?" I ask, my voice a gentle command.

“The way you taste.”

"And how do I taste?" I ask, my lips ghosting over her skin, teasing her with the promise of more.

"Salty," she whispers, her voice hitching. I can’t tell if she means— “That’s a good thing.” I smile against her skin, relieved while my hands squeeze her thighs. “But I mostly think about your mouth. How good you are at this. Those hickeys you gave me have certainly come in handy.” 

“How so?” I slide two fingers inside her and her breath gets quicker. 

Groaning, she says, “Looking down at them turns me on so much.” She swipes her hand across them. “Thinking about us sneaking around like this. It makes me feel…dirty.” She giggles. “Is that cheesy?” I shake my head and start licking her clit again. “They need to stop assigning me tasks while you’re around.” I hum in question. “The other day they made me clean the studio while you were in your pottery lesson—why it couldn’t wait, I don’t know—but it was too much,” she says. “Watching you with your sleeves pushed up, your hands on the clay, oh my god, you were so hot. You had me hot and bothered all day long.”

I genuinely had no idea. She does a great job of hiding that. Little does she know, I was stealing glances of her that whole lesson—I don’t remember a single word my instructor said. The only thing I was looking at was her body, her curvy thighs, full breasts, squishy tummy, the greatest ass I’ve ever seen and I haven’t even seen it bare yet. “What did you do afterward?”

She hesitates, tensing up, holding back. “I don’t wanna say.”

I stop in my tracks. “Tell me.”

“No,” she whines. “Don’t make me.” Refusing to speak or look down at me, I pull away from her, looking at her like, I’m not gonna keep going until you tell me. With an insatiable eye roll, she finally speaks up, “I thought about you.” I look at her again like, That’s not enough and you know it. “Fine,” she says. Of course, if this truly bothered her, she knows our safe word. Tapping her fingers on the counter before bashfully looking away, she admits, “I thought about you while I touched myself.”

Satisfied, I give her a kitten lick on her clit, making her gasp. 

“I, uh…I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, at the hickeys you gave me.” I start licking more and more, rewarding her for talking. “I thought about what it would look like if someone walked in on us while you did this to me. Or what someone would think if they saw the hickeys you gave me.”

Her hips start to roll and I know I can’t speak anymore. Because that would mean taking my mouth off her pussy, which neither of us want. Instead, my grip on the fat of her thighs gets harsher and I stay steady with my mouth, knowing this is the exact speed and pressure she needs. 

“I thought about you ripping my dress off but then slowing down to take my thong and bra off,” she says. Well, that’s new. We’ve never mentioned anything further than this. Does she want something more than this? 

“About you pressing your bare chest against mine,” she adds breathlessly. “You licking my tits.” Her thoughts and words start speeding up, like she’s telling me not to stop no matter what. “You tapping my clit with your cock.” Oh my god. She wants to do things like that with me? Fuck. I can’t show how giddy that makes me, not right now at least. 

Her hands hold onto my hair for dear life. Her moans pitch up and increase speed, like a chant, getting louder and louder. “You fucking me from behind,” she says. “Fucking me so good I can hardly take it.” She’s so close. “Until—until…” She's panting, clearly right on the verge of reaching her orgasm. “I’m coming so good for you,” she whispers breathlessly. I can feel it when her thighs tremble, when her clit pulsates against my tongue, when her nails dig into my scalp. 

Catching her breath after she comes, she finishes off with a sweet, “Thank you, Sir.”

cw. more yeonjun environmental activist, suggestive, cheesy idk. 

MIRA'S POV

“I can’t believe you did this,” I spit at Yeonjun, messily packing my old beat up carry-on. He refolds one of my t-shirts and hands it to me. 

“I thought you’d be excited to go.” 

Scoffing, I put a fist on my hip and face him. “I’m going as your servant.” He rolls his eyes before shoving his hands in his pockets. “All the other servants already think there’s something going on between us. Requesting me for your dumb business trip is gonna look suspicious.”

“Dumb?” He’s visibly offended. “This is an important business trip for me.”

“Still. They won’t shut up about this for months and you know it.”

“I thought you said there was nothing to talk about,” he says smugly, but I ignore him. “Look, I knew you wouldn’t act all servant-y the whole time, okay? Mother insists I take someone, but I’m a grown-up. I can do things on my own,” he says. “I knew you would be…normal, I don’t know. You wouldn’t curtsy, be on edge, or call me Sir.”

I stop in my tracks to look him in the eye and ask, “Except for when you want me to, right?” I hadn’t thought about what we might do at the hotel while we’re gone. Would he invite me to his room so he could taste me? Would he surprise me with a knock on my door? Would he text me to meet him somewhere else? I don’t know but I admit I’m excited to find out. 

The next morning, I hoist my suitcase into the trunk of the town car while the chauffeur, Eston, opens the door for me. I’m greeted with a sleepy “Morning,” from Yeonjun as he hands me a travel mug full of coffee that I didn’t ask for, but I’m definitely grateful for. 

“We’re taking the same car?”

“Of course,” he says. “Less cars on the road.”

Oh my god, he looks so cute with his sleepy eyes and messy hair. Although he flies commercial everywhere he goes, he wears every disguise possible: hat, face mask, hoodie with the hood up, you name it. We get to go through security privately though, which is nice. 

After our long flight, I want nothing more than to crash into a nice, warm bed—actually, any bed will do. It’s still light, but it’s evening and I’m ready to go to bed early. While he handles check-in, I scroll through my phone—international data plan paid for by the Queen, thank you very much. 

On the elevator, I ask , “Which floor am I on?” 

“Seven.” I nod, reaching for the seven button on the elevator, but it only goes up to six. There’s only one above it, which is labeled ‘Penthouse.’

Wait. “Did you only get one room?”

“Well…”

“Yeonjun!” I scream-whisper. “What is wrong with you? What did you think—”

He holds his hands up to clarify, “It has two rooms, okay? I wasn’t trying to…I dunno, make anything happen. It seemed easier.” 

The room is truly magnificent. Luxurious gold silk drapes frame the windows to let light flood the room. Sofas and armchairs surround a marble fireplace—cozy yet regal, just how Yeonjun likes it. An intricately carved coffee table sits in the middle of the room holding a vase of fresh flowers. There’s even a piano sitting in the corner. 

The view from the terrace takes my breath away. The gorgeous blues of Lake Geneva and the snow-capped alps are gorgeous. The air is crisp and clean and refreshes my lungs from the inside out. I lean on the railing, letting the cool breeze brush against my face as calmness washes over me.

“Gorgeous, huh?” Yeonjun asks as he stands beside me, his eyes scanning the horizon. 

“This is fucking incredible,” I say, my gaze never waiving from the beauty of the landscape. 

“I knew you’d like it,” he says. I glance over at him and he gives me a warm smile. 

“You’ve been here?”

“I’ve never stayed in this hotel, but I’ve been to Geneva, yes.” 

There’s a silence. Like we both know we want to do something, but we’re unsure of exactly what. Go in for a hug? No. Let him wrap his arm around me? No. Kiss him? Absolutely not. We can’t fall into that relationship space. The tension presses down on us, unspoken but palpable.

“Well, I’m exhausted,” he says, breaking the silence. “Did you wanna take a shower first or…?” 

“You can go ahead,” I say as I walk through the room, planning to unpack a bit first. Extending my suitcase’s handle, I ask, “Where’s the other room?” He grimaces, avoiding my gaze. “What?”

“Don’t be mad,” he starts, but I’m already visibly mad. “I must’ve looked at the website wrong.” I brace for the inevitable while he braces for my reaction. “This is it.”

“Seriously, Yeonjun? One bed?.” This is not gonna turn into a cheesy only-one-bed-left story. Nope. I won’t let it. “You better get me another room.”

“I already called and they’re out.” I’m fuming. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says. My face softens. I didn’t necessarily want that. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Yeonjun,” I say, guilt in my voice. 

“Mira, it’s fine. Really. It was my mistake, so I’ll take the couch.” 

“Okay,” I say. “I guess you can’t do stuff on your own, then, huh?”

-

The next morning, I wake up in this giant bed. Alone. The smell of coffee is already wafting through the air. Stretching under the covers, I sit up to see Yeonjun on the terrace, reading a newspaper. Not on his phone—a literal printed newspaper. I don't even know where he got it. 

An adorable little prince sitting there with his luxurious silk PJs, fuzzy slippers, messy hair, and the cutest pair of glasses anyone’s ever seen. Before joining him, I pull a hoodie over my tank top.

“Aren’t I supposed to get you your coffee?” I ask, admiring the view of the lake. 

“When you wake up on time, yes,” he says, not looking up from his paper while he pushes up his glasses. 

“I…I’m sorry,” I say, forcing myself back into my professional persona. 

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckles, sitting his coffee on the coaster and looking at me. “I wasn’t trying to be bossy. You seemed like you needed sleep. And I can get my own coffee,” he says. “Besides, today is a day off. You can get me coffee tomorrow.” I nod. “Did you have plans today?”

“I dunno…maybe I’ll draw by the lake or something.” 

“I’m kayaking on the lake and having a picnic lunch if you want to join me,” he suggests. “You can bring your sketchbook.”

-

The lake shimmers like a bed of gems, crystal-clear waters reflecting the sunlight in brilliant shades of blue. As we paddle alongside each other, our rowing is rhythmic until we reach a small pebbled shore on the other side of the lake.

Yeonjun jumps out first, standing up in the water to pull his kayak to shore. He’s so charming with his crocs and shorts short enough to expose his muscular thighs. The t-shirt he’s got on is somehow the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him wear, perfectly accentuating his pecs and clinging to his biceps. And the cutest lake hat sits on his head, making me absolutely giddy. 

Without having to ask, he pulls my kayak in so I don’t need to step in the water or pull it up myself. He offers his hand to me with a smile, my fingers lingering a bit too long after I stand to my feet. 

While I set up the blanket on the pebbled shore, I ask, “What’s tomorrow’s meeting about?”

His eyes light up while he unpacks our picnic. "Tomorrow's meeting is with the Global Environment Facility," he begins, settling back against the kayak, pouring some juice into two glasses. "We're discussing several things, but we’ll be focusing on keeping our water clean.” He tilts his head toward the sparkling Lake Geneva in front of us, its pristine waters a reminder of the importance of this endeavor. "Access to clean water is a fundamental human right," he says passionately. “But there’s so much…crap in them. You know 26% of the world doesn’t have access to safe drinking water?” My eyes widen. “And so many beautiful oceans and rivers and lakes like this one keep getting trashed.” 

His dedication is contagious, and I find myself leaning in, captivated by his words. "It's more than policies and proposals," he continues. "It's about creating real, tangible changes that will protect our planet.” He smiles, a mix of determination and hope in his expression. "I mean, I dunno…it’s a big goal I guess,” he says, glancing down in embarrassment. 

“Seems like you’re actually doing something about it.”

“We’re at least trying to make change happen.”

Sitting on the blanket, I fest my legs out in front of me with my hands supporting me from behind. He hands me a glass while he sits criss-cross next to me. “You seem really passionate about it,” I say. 

“I am,” he nods.

A comfortable silence settles over us as we enjoy our meal. Afterward, he takes his book out of his backpack, reclining back to rest his head against the kayak. I take out my sketchbook and pencils, setting it up against my knees and thighs. 

I try to focus on capturing the serenity of the lake, but my eyes keep drifting to him. His presence is so comforting and I’m reminded of that every time we’re alone like this. Watching him, I can’t help but think about what it would feel like to rest my cheek against his chest. Warm. Strong. Safe. 

“Yeonjun?”

“Hm?” He looks up at me from under his hat, but I don’t know what to say. After a few seconds of silence, he sits up completely and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I stutter, returning to my drawing. 

An hour or so passes—I’ve made great progress on my drawing and it seems like he made a nice dent in his book, but the sun’s setting fast. 

“We should probably go soon,” he notes. “We shouldn’t kayak in the dark and it’ll probably take an hour to get back.”

-

“Everything okay?” Yeonjun asks, startling me on the terrace. I hum, avoiding looking at him. He looks too good after showers—hair damp and skin pink from the hot water—so I better not take a peek. I’ve clipped my wet hair up—it holds its waves better that way. 

“I’m finishing up this drawing I started at the lake. Adding some watercolor.” 

“Is that me?” He asks, pulling the other seat around to sit next to me. 

“Yeah,” I nod awkwardly. “I just drew what I saw.” I say, giving in and glancing at him while he smiles to himself as he examines the art. 

Seconds pass before he adds, “I had a lot of fun today.”

“Me too,” I say, my arms crossed. He’s so, so close to me. 

“Yeah?” I hum. “Since you showed me this,” he says, gesturing to the drawing. “I’ll show you this picture I took of you,” he says, reaching for his phone in his pocket. Leaning even closer to me, I feel his warmth. I must say I look pretty. My hair’s windswept, I have a nice pink in my cheeks, and I look genuinely happy looking out over the water. His fingers mindlessly touch mine while he looks at me. “Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “You know, on the picnic.”

“No worries,” I say. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” he says, not moving an inch. Oh my god, he looks so kissable right now. I can’t believe how long we’ve gone without kissing each other even once. I didn’t think we’d last one week after we started…whatever we’re doing. Hooking up? 

Regardless, I’m relieved. We should not be starting something right now. He’s my boss. My boss and my ex that broke my heart. 

But we’re leaning in closer and closer, like we’re about to—don’t you dare. I catch myself first. 

“You can, uh…you can sleep in the bed with me if you want,” I whisper. He shakes his head and starts to protest. “Really, it’s okay. Swear. It’s a huge bed.”

cw. brief mention of the death of a grandparent, yeonjun environmental activist, eating food.

YEONJUN'S POV

As I make my way toward the grand conference hall, the weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. Today's meeting is a pivotal moment in my advocacy work and I need to be right on. I love this though. Speaking for what I believe in. Convincing people. And admittedly, sounding smart, which I am.

Glancing over my shoulder, Mira follows close behind me, which is what she’s meant to be doing. It still sends shivers down my spine. Our return to our professional roles after our idyllic kayaking excursion feels strange, but duty calls and we both have our parts to play. I square my shoulders and quicken my pace, the marble floors echoing under my feet. 

With a final glance back at Mira, she offers an encouraging smile and asks, “Ready?” I take a deep breath. “You’re gonna be great.” She opens the door and I step into the grandeur of the conference room. The air is charged with energy, a palpable sense of purpose radiating throughout the room. 

Taking my place at the head of the table, pride and excitement surges through me. This is it—the moment I’ve been preparing for, the chance to make a real difference.

-

Coming back home—hotel room—I’m exhausted but exhilarated. As I’m about to collapse onto the couch, a knock at the living room entryway wakes me up. 

“You hungry?” Mira asks, flipping through the room service menu. 

“Order whatever you like.”

“What would you like?”

“Anything’s fine. I’m not picky.”

After she places the order on the phone, we chat about the meeting a bit, but it isn’t long before the conversation gets lighter. We laugh about our kayaking adventure yesterday, recalling the near-disaster when I almost tripped into the water face first. The room service arrives promptly, and we dig into our meal. 

"So, tell me," she says between bites of her spaghetti, "what got you interested in environmental advocacy in the first place?"

I lean back, chewing the bite of pizza in thought. "I guess it started when I was a kid. You remember how much I loved nature even back then.” She nods. “Whenever I got stressed, I’d go outside—you know, for a walk, camping, whatever, and one day, I looked around and only saw wealthy people and it was one of those moments where I realized how lucky I am,” I say, not breaking eye contact. “Access to nature is a fundamental human right. It’s already inaccessible to many and it’s only getting worse.”

She nods. “It's easy to take it for granted.”

“It was something I’d never thought about,” I chuckle. “I was a fucking prick back then.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, a little too easily. She’s not wrong though.

“As I got older, I started to see the impact of pollution and climate change. I knew I had to do something, even if it was just a small part."

We continue talking late into the night, sharing stories and dreams, discovering new facets of each other's personalities. It’s in these quiet moments I cherish that I get to see some real parts of her, like in the garden, when she painted my portrait, when we went kayaking. 

“What’s something you’re passionate about?” I ask. She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Nah, come on, you gotta be passionate about something.” Shrugging, she shakes her head. “How about your art?”

Smiling to herself, she asks, “What about it?”

“Why are you an artist?”

She leans back, tracing patterns of the fabric on the couch with her finger. "This is cheesy but when I look around, I see colors, shapes, emotions. When I draw or paint or whatever, it's like I'm putting pieces together, creating something whole. It’s not about making something beautiful, but capturing a moment or a feeling, things I can’t say out loud,” she says, glancing around the room bashfully. “Or whatever.”

“Not or whatever. You need to give yourself more credit.”

She nods shyly, looking down with a grin. "I remember this painting I did. It was of an old barn, you know, out of town a bit. Everyone thought it was just a pretty picture of decay. But it was about resilience, how even in decay, there’s a story that refuses to be forgotten, even if it can’t speak for itself or if no one’s listening but me.” I nod. “That’s what I really love. Finding those moments that only a few people notice. It’s like saying, ‘Hey, I see you and I feel this too.’” That’s amazing. She’s never spoken so candidly like this with me before. “Like when you asked if I was gonna paint your freckle and your birthmark, like, of course I am! That’s a part of you and I see you, you know?”

I chuckle with her. “Do you have a favorite piece?”

She thinks for a moment. “Probably a painting I did of my grandmother’s hands. She was a seamstress, and her hands were always so busy, always creating. When she wasn’t sewing, she was sketching, measuring, creating patterns. It was my way of honoring her, capturing her essence. Her hands have so many stories to tell.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “She was the one person in my family I really wanted you to meet back then.”

“Invite her over for dinner some time,” I suggest. 

“She, uh,” She clears her throat. “She passed a couple years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” She waves her hand. “I would’ve loved to have met her.”

“It’s okay.” But her eyes are tearing up just a bit. She blinks them away and adds, “She meant so much to me, but I guess that’s…how things go.”

“Where’s that painting now?”

“It’s back home, like, my home home, not the castle.” 

“I’d love to see it.”

“I’ll find it the next time I go back home and bring it back with me.” As the conversation winds down, we sit in comfortable silence as the city lights cast a soft glow through the window. "I should probably let you get some rest," Mira says, breaking the silence.

I nod, feeling a pang of reluctance. "Yeah, we have another busy day tomorrow."

She stands up, but before she leaves, she turns to me, her expression gentle. "Goodnight, Yeonjun. And thank you for tonight. It was nice to just...talk."

"It was,” I reply. “Let's do it again sometime."

cw. cunnilingus, protected sex, mira’s body is described as squishy/chubby in a good way, mention of moles and vvv brief mention of armpits, toys, body worship, masturbation, pet names (darling, love, babe, baby).

YEONJUN'S POV

After another grueling meeting, I’ve ditched my tie and unbuttoned a few of my shirt buttons while Mira has completely changed into lounge clothes back at the hotel room. Out of the corner of my eye, I sense her watching me, leaning up against the wall. But I let it slide. I don’t think she realizes how often she does it. 

“How did today’s meeting go?” She asks. 

“You were there.”

“I know, but how did it go from your perspective?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events fresh in my mind. "It was intense," I start, a mix of relief and excitement in my voice. "We covered a lot of ground. Like I said, we talked about keeping waters clean.”

“Did you all come up with any new ideas?"

"Actually, yes," I say, a spark of enthusiasm igniting. "We talked about implementing advanced watershed management and enhancing wastewater treatment technologies. But what really stood out was the proposal for a global initiative to reduce industrial runoff. It's ambitious, but the potential impact is huge."

She nods, clearly intrigued. "Was everyone on board?"

"For the most part," I reply, recalling the lively debates. "There were a few moments of contention, especially when it came to funding, so I’ll be doing a lot of fundraising for awhile, but everyone agreed they seem like good ideas.”

Mira's smile is warm and encouraging. "I'm glad it went well.” Her words, simple yet heartfelt, warm me up. She finally pipes up again to add, “You looked hot up there.” 

I chuckle. “Yeah?” She nods. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she starts, walking closer to me. “How smart and passionate you are. That’s hot.” That is exactly what I was hoping she’d say. I kept catching myself stealing glances of her during the meetings. It was hard to tell if she was looking at me to look at me or because that’s technically her job. Even if it is her job, I can tell between her different looks—her checking in look, her secretly admiring me look, and her I need you and I need you now look, which might be my favorite.

The look she’s got on her face is starting to lean toward that last one, but she’s not quite there yet. I only observe, let her fall into that place if she wants to.

“Well, thank you,” I tilt my head in her direction before the piano behind her catches my attention. “You know, I’ve been taking piano lessons.” She hums. Sometimes I forget it's also her job to know everything about me—everything about my schedule and activities at least. “You still like classical music, right?” She nods gently, a slight smile constantly on her lips. 

I’m not the best at piano, so I start fumbling through Moonlight Sonata. Giggling through every wrong note, she brushes some hair away from my face. 

“Ah, I need the sheet music,” I say quietly. Wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs, I know she’s still staring at me with look number three: I need you and I need you now. All professionalism has gone out the window. The biker shorts she’s wearing outlines her stomach perfectly, her thighs barely bulge at the hem, and her tank top accentuates her breasts beautifully. She’s a stunner. 

I reach for her hand and drag my thumb across her knuckles. My hands rest against the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer so she steps between my legs, my hand moving to her backside, squeezing her so deliciously. Her hands rest on my shoulders as I bury my nose between her breasts, taking a deep breath. She always smells so goddamn amazing. 

“I need you,” she whispers as her fingertips drag across my scalp. 

“I know, darling.”

“No,” she chuckles. “I need more from you this time,” she says breathlessly. I stand up straight, looking down at her as she looks at me through her eyelashes. “I need you inside me. Please.” 

“Of course,” I say, diving straight for her lips, but she turns her head, so my lips crash into her cheek. 

“Did I say you could kiss me?” Picking her up, I let my face rest in her chest again as I carry her to the bed, praying I don’t trip over anything along the way. As I sit her down on the mattress, she says, “Kiss me everywhere but my mouth, okay? Everywhere.” 

I don’t wanna argue with the no kissing rule right now, so I simply nod, covering her neck with kisses while I tug her shorts off her legs. Holding her leg by her ankle, I press my lips to it, trailing it all the way up to her thigh while her hand slips under her thong. I’m looking over her body, closing my eyes for a few seconds at a time, but I can feel her eyes on me. 

“Everywhere, babe,” she reminds me. Babe? I decide not to mention it—don’t ruin the moment. I slowly lift her shirt, but she gets impatient and takes it off herself, throwing it somewhere before tugging at the hem of mine, hinting at me to ditch it. 

My lips land right above her bra, kissing and nipping the tops of her breasts. I literally can’t wait to see her completely, so I waste no time in snapping it off and taking a second to admire her. Then, I gently kiss her neck and feel her whole body with my hands. Warm, soft, welcoming, curvy, squishy, perfect. 

When I squeeze her tit for the first time, she moans, arching her back while I sloppily stamp her collarbone with my lips. I want nothing more than to lick her nipples—it’s all I’ve thought about for the last few days—but…I dunno. I’m nervous. 

“Jjun…please,” she starts. There’s that nickname. It made my heart sing when she accidentally called me that a couple months ago. It used to slip past her lips so easily when we were together all those years ago, but now she stays so formal. “Lick my nipples, please.” 

Tongue flicking her nipple, her eyes roll back as her body follows. As I kiss further down her body toward her tummy, she reaches for my hair and pulls, making both our breath quicken. She takes the liberty of taking off her own thong and I get rid of my pants. 

We’ve been desperate for this. Desperate to actually feel each other’s bodies. Not clothing-clad bodies, but bare, vulnerable, warm bodies that want each other. And I can’t get enough. I thought I could taste her forever, but now that I’ve gotten my hands on her, on her squishy, chubby body, I’ll never be able to keep my hands off her.

She starts to get impatient, but I’m not finished with her yet. Landing back on top of her, I say, “Lemme just…kiss on ya for a second, okay?”

“Not my—”

“Not your mouth, I know,” I say, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, trailing down her jaw and sneaking in to nuzzle her neck. Whispering into her ear, I tell her, “I love making you gasp like that.” She chuckles, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, but I grab them and put them over her head to continue kissing her everywhere, tasting each bit of her with the tip of my tongue before pressing my lips to her. Her collarbone, her shoulders, her underarms. Everywhere.

She’s got the cutest mole on her side of her breast I kiss three times before moving on. 

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips when I gently kiss under her breasts. I lick a stripe up her chest between them, making eye contact with her, followed by a harsh bite of one of them. Reaching for her arm, I kiss her palm, then gently suck on the tip of her pointer finger. 

“Remember when you painted that portrait of me?”

“How could I forget?”

“When you put this pinky on my face,” I say, sucking on the tip of it. “I thought I was gonna explode. Feeling you so close to me like that. You looked so pretty that day too. With the sun shining in through the window and the plants around you.” Okay, shut up dork, too many feelings. I squeeze her tits harshly, burying my face in them. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” 

Rubbing up and down her sides, she scrunches her shoulders, letting out a giggle. I kiss and bite her tummy—I’ve always loved her stomach, but especially so when she wears biker shorts. The way the fabric pulls, creating an outline of her tummy with rays of fabric going toward her hips. It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. And to finally see her bare tummy right here in front of me, there’s no way I’m not gonna cover it in kisses. 

“Why are you being all touchy?”

Why wouldn’t I be? Spreading her lips, she looks absolutely delicious. I lick her clit, earning one of the most gorgeous moans I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth. 

“I told you, Sir,” she says. “I want all of you this time.” 

“I know. I’m just tasting you, darling.” I glance up at her. “You thought I was gonna fuck you and not taste you first?” 

Grinding against my mouth, she can hardly take it before she starts begging. “Please, please, please, Yeonjun. I need your cock inside me. Please. I need it so bad.” 

“You’ve never had to beg like this before, hm?”

“Nope,” she says. “People usually do what I ask.” Standing, I leave her briefly for a condom that’s in my toiletries bag in the bathroom. When I come back, she asks, “Prepared, huh?” I nod awkwardly. “Wait, wait,” she stops me from rolling the condom down myself. “Let me see you.” I stand back, letting her look at me in awe before she reaches her hands out, rubbing all over my chest and stomach, kissing my hips, squeezing my balls and licking my nipple, making me gasp. 

Taking a deep breath, I admit, “I want to fuck you so bad, Mira.”

Sitting up on her knees, she reaches for my hand and places it on her breast before leaning into my ear to whisper, “Then fuck me, Sir.” Then, she takes the condom and rolls it down my cock, drawing out the process as long as she possibly can. “Your cock is so fucking beautiful,” she says. “I’m still not over it.”

She lays on her back and spreads her legs while I think of all the things I wanna do to her. I really wanna kiss her, but I can’t. She’s right. We shouldn’t. Resting between her legs, I rub my hands over her body again, taking my time contemplating, even if she protests, claiming I’m teasing her too much. But she teased me, so now I get to tease her. 

Honestly, I can’t believe this is happening. I thought we’d never get past oral in the closet. I line myself up with her entrance, bending to press my lips to her neck and whisper, “Are you sure?” 

“Yeonjun,” she says, placing a hand on my cheek to force me to look at her. “I’m sure. Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

As I push into her slowly, my whole world comes crumbling down around me. She is perfection. The way she wraps around me like a warm blanket, her eyes full of pleasure sparkling up at mine, the noises she’s making. Nothing else matters anymore but her. 

She breathes out like she’s relieved and says, “I’ve been waiting for this for seven years.” My head reels. Our arms wrap around each other as I find a slow and steady pace. Everything is her. She fits right in my arms as her nails claw at my back and her legs wrap around my waist to make sure I won't go anywhere, which I won’t. But I need to see the way her body moves. 

Sitting up, I stare down at her, pumping in and out, her tits bouncing with every move I make. Finding her clit with my thumb, the noise she makes in response is intoxicating. She arches her back, squeezing her own tit, which is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

“That’s my girl.” Can I call her that? I don’t care. I’m going to. 

She giggles and scratches my thigh, whispering, “You feel so good. Faster?” And I can’t help but comply, speeding up my thrusts but maintaining control. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up though. I want…need to go faster and she’s asking me to, but I also want to take things slow, be with her forever. “Faster, please,” she almost sounds like she’s in tears. 

I don’t go much faster, though. This has to be perfect. I can’t be too much. But—

“Hey, stop for a second,” she says genuinely and I oblige, slipping out of her to sit back on my knees. She sits up and reaches for my hands. “Come here,” she says, pulling me closer so our chests are grazing each other’s. “Are you okay?” I nod enthusiastically. “It seems like you’re holding back.” 

“I just…you feel so good and I don’t wanna get carried away. And I don’t know your, like, limits.”

“You can fuck me so hard—no, I want you to fuck me so hard. You don’t have to hold back, okay?” She reaches down and squeezes my cock, waiting for a reaction from me. “I’ve been waiting for this cock and I need you to fuck me and don’t stop until I’m begging you to.” She smiles. “Unless you ever wanna stop, of course.” I nod. “Did you wanna take it slow?”

Without giving my brain time to process, I flip her onto her stomach, yanking her up by her hips so she’s on her knees, ass up. I gather her hair in a makeshift ponytail before thrusting into her so hard it takes her breath away. She feels indescribable—a radiating ache overcomes me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let her go after this. 

My thrusts reach a speed finally fast enough for her as she’s whimpering on my cock, shuddering from the feeling of me buried deep inside her. The room fills with the sound of my thighs smacking her ass, making ripples roll down her cheeks. My hand tingles wanting to spank her, but that’s a bit much, no? But she said not to hold back.

I decide to indulge myself, spanking her harshly, my hand making a loud smack, earning an irresistible moan from her. She whispers, “Thank you.”

“Thank you, who?”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whimpers. I spank her again, rubbing it to soothe the sting. I’m fucking her so fast and hard that we’re both sweating, skin getting sticky and slick. Pushing on the small of her back to deepen her arch, I find an even deeper spot inside her. “Ohmygod—” Mira gasps. 

“You sound so sexy,” I groan. I don’t want her to hold back either. I want her to be as loud as she wants to be. No one else is on this floor anyway. Pulling her up by her shoulder, I reach in front of her to rub her clit, her head dropping back and onto my shoulder. 

Slipping out of her, she shudders and whines at the sudden loss but I turn her around so she’s on her back before I land on top of her again, pinning her hands above her head. Her knees fall open and I hook my hands under her thighs before thrusting back into her, earning an incredible eye roll from her. 

“Fuck, Yeonjun.”

“I know, darling,” I say lowly. I wonder if she actually likes it when I call her that. Should I call her something else? Baby? Babe? Love? 

The speed of my thrusts increases again, while I massage her tit. She grips her legs by the back of her knees, holding them wide open for me. “Look at you…being such a good girl for me, hm?” Using my body, I push her legs down gently, letting me in even deeper. Our faces are so close to each other, her lips are just begging to be kissed, but I resist. 

She takes a deep breath, her eyebrows stitch together and she looks up at me before saying with the most genuine sounding voice, “You’re so pretty.”

That makes me absolutely gush. My shoulders scrunch as I run my fingers through my hair before I bend to lick one of her nipples so slowly she can hardly stand it. Kissing up her chest, I whisper, “You’re fucking beautiful, Mira.” Her arms wrap around my neck to pull me closer. 

“Wait, Yeonjun,” she says. I stop in my tracks. “Can you, uh…” she asks, pushing me out of her before getting up off the bed. 

“Is everything okay?” I ask. “Did I hurt you?”

She’s rummaging through her bag and replies, “No, Sir.” Returning, she hands me a small clit vibrator. Oh. “Can you, um…can you use that on me?”

“Whatever you wish, darling,” I say, watching her lay on her back again, spreading her legs open for me. I switch her toy on to the lowest setting. “Do you think about me when you use this to make yourself feel good?” Before she can answer, I place it onto her clit. 

Gasping and nodding, she says, “Yes, Sir.” Her fingers grip the sheets before she admits, “I think about you every time.” She sighs. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Of course.”

“What do you think about doing to me?”

“I think about licking all over you. About making you feel good,” I say. “About you screaming my name.”

“You like making me feel good?” 

I nod and we’re both desperate as ever now. Desperate to feel each other. To come together. I thrust back into her, quickly reaching a speed we both like, increasing the intensity of the toy along the way. Her mouth drops open as she furrows her eyebrows, her moans getting higher pitched and quicker. 

“Mira, I wanna see you cum.”

Dropping one of her legs, she wraps it around my waist, grabbing my forearm, clearly close to losing it. “Don’t stop, babe,” she whimpers. I shake my head. “Please, Yeonjun, don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, darling.”

I reach the deepest part of her, and she finally lets go—eyes rolling back, thighs trembling, clit shuddering under the toy. She’s fucking stunning when she cums. Her other leg falls to the bed while she moans out loud, the corners of her mouth curving upward. “Babe, fuck,” she says breathlessly, “You’re making me cum so hard.”

My thrusts get sloppier and I bury my free hand in her soft waves, groaning and whimpering in her ear as I cum inside her, collapsing on her shoulder. That was truly the best I’ve ever felt. 

Forehead glistening with sweat under the moonlight barely shining through the bedroom window, she looks fucking gorgeous. Her post-sex glow would make anyone swoon. My stomach swirls with emotions. I need her. But I just had her. But I need more. No, I need something else. 

“I wanna kiss you,” she says. Fuck, don’t do this to me. “Please?”

I think about it for a second—I really do. That’s what I want, no, that’s exactly what I need, but— “You told me not to.” 

Shaking her head, she admits, “I don’t care.” She looks absolutely kissable right now. I need to feel her lips on mine again. Passing by each other in the hallway and pretending not to be fucking has been miserable. Every time I see her, I refrain from running up and wrapping my arms around her to give her the best kiss she’s ever had. Not being able to do that has been bad enough, but not even kissing her when I’m literally still inside her? Now that’s torture. 

The way she looks at me too—up through her eyelashes, eyes glistening from pure pleasure, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen and utterly plump.

She hooks two fingers under my necklace to pull me closer, tilting her chin up toward me. Fuck, don’t do that. My heart races. “Please,” she says. “I need to kiss you.” 

No. Don’t. She’s the one that initiated the no kissing rule. And for good reason. We shouldn’t get involved right now. I let her tug me a few inches closer, but I dodge her lips and turn to my side to lean on the bed before clearing my throat.

“Let’s go take a shower, yeah?” I suggest. 

She sighs and says, “Okay.” Standing up silently, I watch her walk slowly to the bathroom, her body moving so beautifully, but I can tell she’s upset even from behind. I plop down on my back. Did I do the right thing? I want to kiss her more than anything but she’s told me over and over again not to. I didn’t want her to regret something because of the heat of the moment. I don’t want her to feel like I took advantage of her but I also don’t want her to feel like I don’t want her. 

The shower turns on, making me stand up. I catch her looking at herself in the mirror before she glances down. Without speaking, we both get in the huge shower that luckily has two shower heads. She wets her hair then smiles at me sweetly. 

“Can I at least have a hug?” She asks. I chuckle, opening my arms up to her. She wraps her arms around my waist. We wash the day off each other—stressful meetings, long walks to and from the conference center, the amazing sex we just had. The room is mostly silent with the occasional Can you hand me my soap? 

After drying off, we crawl back into the shared bed. I’m sitting up with my back against the headboard while I flick through the TV channels. Half laying down and half resting against the headboard, she keeps awkwardly moving closer to me, opening her mouth and breathing in like she wants to say something but never does.

I slouch a bit to get to her level before opening up my arm up to her and so she can lay her head on my chest. As she snuggles into me, I swear I could die happy right here. The air is calm and sweet and warm, her presence provides an overwhelming sense of comfort and I can’t help but graze my fingers up and down her arm until she falls asleep. 

As predicted, insomnia is my enemy tonight. Questions swirl around my mind. 

Should I have kissed her? What does she want after this? What’s she gonna be like tomorrow morning? How should I act tomorrow morning? After eating some almonds and a banana to try and induce sleep, I go for a walk around the hotel, trying to tire out my body and mind. Eventually, I lay back down thinking about what I really want between the two of us.

Normally, I’d squeeze my eyes shut to picture her lips and eyelashes, but the real Mira is lying right next to me. But I probably shouldn’t stare at her without her permission. With the warmth of thinking of her, there’s also a tug of uncertainty. What if she doesn’t feel the same way I do? What if she just wanted sex? I couldn’t really be mad at her for that, though. That’s what we both wanted at the beginning, even if there may have been some underlying feelings. That’s at least all we were expecting. 

Sighing, I turn away from her, thoughts tangling into each other, emotions pulling on the threads in every direction. I count my breaths, slow and steady, but each breath is full of her scent, making things worse, the adrenaline of unspoken feelings keeping me awake. 

Time stretches out and I look at my phone, the clock glaring back at me—4:37 AM. Another sigh escapes me, heavier this time. My meetings are done for the week, but I don’t like massive changes in my sleep schedule, even when I'm abroad. 

Pulling the covers over my head, I block out the world before quietly whispering her name, like it’s a confession I hope she may hear. I’m answered only by the faintest of snores that have been steady for hours. Finally, my thoughts blur, exhaustion pulling me into a restless sleep. But even in my dreams, she’s there, a shadow at the edge of consciousness.

-

“Hey,” I say groggily to Mira. “What happened to you?” Mira’s already dressed in her work clothes with her hair neatly tied back. The smell of the coffee she’s pouring wafts through the air and warms me up. I start to hug her from behind, but—

“I made coffee,” she replies, her tone professional and clipped. 

“Why’d you get out of bed?”

“To work. That’s why I’m here.” Her voice is detached and she finally turns to look at me. 

Searching her face for the warmth I’d seen last night, I say, “Yeah, but I thought after—”

“We shouldn’t have done that last night.”

“What?”

“Sex,” she says matter-of-factly. “We should not have had sex last night.”

“I know what you meant, but why not?” I ask, my heart pounding. “We’ve been practically having sex for months now.”

“Last night was different.” 

“So?”

Mira takes a deep breath before sitting the coffee pot back on the table. “Because, Yeonjun, I’m your servant and we used to date and now…”

“And now what? We pretend it didn’t happen?” Anger and frustration bubbles inside me. Whether I consciously knew it or not, I’d made my decision last night. I want to be with her for real and I’m willing to do whatever it takes, as long as she’ll have me. I was hoping she felt the same way, but she’s still not willing to admit the depth of our relationship out loud. “Mira, last night was…it was real. You can’t just ignore that.”

She looks away from me, wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart races faster with each step I take toward her. “It’s okay to have feelings.”

“No, it’s not,” she spits, twisting her head back to look at me. “I cannot do this again. We cannot do this again.” I start to interrupt. “I don’t wanna hear it, Yeonjun.”

“Mira, please—”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice breaking. “We have to end this before it even starts.” Her words bring a finality to us before she walks out of the kitchenette and onto the balcony. I suppose that’s it then. 

The silence left in her wake is deafening. I slump into a chair, running my hands through my hair, the weight of every unspoken word heavy on my shoulders. The morning light filters through the window, casting long shadows across the room. It’s surreal. 

No. This is not how we end.

Following her out onto the balcony, she stands with her back to me, staring blankly at the lake. The same lake we kayaked on together a few days ago. I envy the serenity of the water. “Mira, you can’t just walk away,” I say softly, hoping to reach her through the wall she’s built around herself. 

She doesn’t turn, but her shoulders tense. “You said it yourself, Yeonjun. I’m nothing. We couldn’t even be together even if we wanted to.” 

“Is that what this is about? You’re still upset about something I said seven years ago?” She shakes her head. “Then what is it?” She keeps turning away from me. And ignoring me. “Talk to me. Please.” 

“There’s nothing left to say.”

cw. crying, kissing. 

MIRA'S POV

The rest of our trip to Switzerland was business as usual. I made sure of it. I woke up on time, got his coffee, did everything a servant does and in the manner a servant would do. No smiles. No anger. Just business. 

“What’s been up with you recently?” Hyomin shakes me out of my daydreaming—or daynightmaring, perhaps—replaying that morning with Yeonjun. How hurt he looked. How it felt to break my own heart. How it felt to break his heart. “You haven’t been acting like yourself. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say, glancing over at Yeonjun sitting at the dining table without even realizing it at first. 

Narrowing her eyes, she asks, “Did something happen between you two?”

“No,” I say harshly. 

“You can’t be serious.” I shrug. “You went to Switzerland together for a week and nothing happened? Not even a kiss or a not-so-platonic hug?”

“I have work to do, Hyomin.” Shaking my head, I stomp away in the direction of my room. Slamming my door shut, I press the heels of my hands into my eyes to stop the tears from coming but it's no use. My phone buzzes but I already know who it is. 

Yeonjun 3:52 PM Are you ever gonna talk to me again?

It’s been four days since Switzerland but that’s the twelfth message since we got back. 

Can we talk? Can you meet me in our closet tonight? Just to talk, nothing else. I’d really like to talk to you. Please stop ignoring me. 

I have sent zero. I can’t bring myself to. Tossing my phone on my mattress, there’s a black dress bag and a note on my bed. 

For Saturday. –Y

Are you fucking kidding me? He’s buying me gifts now? What kind of relationship does he think we have? We make each other come a few times, have sex in Switzerland once and now he won’t stop texting me and buying me dresses? Fuck this. 

Me. 4:01 PM Closet. Now.

-

“Hello, darling,” Yeonjun says smugly as I slam the door shut. 

“What the fuck is this, Yeonjun?” I scream-whisper, shoving the dress bag into his chest as his face turns horrified. 

“A dress,” he says defensively, trying to not let the dress bag fall to the floor. 

“Don’t patronize me,” I spit. “You think you can buy me or something?” He shakes his head nervously. “Taking me to Switzerland, staying in a fancy hotel, buying me food, now you’re buying me an expensive dress?”

“I took you to Switzerland as a member of my staff,” he reminds me.

“If you think for one second that I’ll just come running back to you because of this—”

He grabs me by my forearm and gently yanks me close to him to stare down at me hungrily, like he wants to take me right then and there. I know this look very well by this point. 

“You’re cute when you’re mad at me.”

“Shut up.” I throw the dress down and attempt to turn away from him. “Leave me alone, Yeonjun.” His grip tightens, not painfully, but firmly enough to prevent me from going anywhere. 

“Why are you so angry, really? Is it the gifts, or is it because you’re scared of what this means?” I glare at him, feeling the anger bubble up again. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I roll my eyes. He sighs, letting go of my arm but not stepping back. 

“I’m not trying to buy you, okay? I just...I like you. And I want to do things for you.”

I cross my arms, trying to maintain the obviousness of my anger but I can’t help I’m shocked. He likes me? Like that? I mean, I was hopeful but I never thought he’d ever say it out loud. Should I say it too? I almost think about it, but instead, I ask, “You think throwing money at me will make me like you more?”

“No,” he says softly, surprising me. “I just don’t know what to do, Mira,” he raises his voice. “You’re ignoring me and I want to show you I care about you.”

“I know you care about me, Yeonjun. I’m telling you to stop caring about me,” I say sternly. “It’s over.”

Over the next few days, he stops texting me, talking to me, I don’t even catch him glancing at me like I usually do several times a day. He must be avoiding me—or doing exactly what I asked him to do, I guess. Which pisses me off too. 

Saturday rolls around and we have yet another fancy dinner to host. The Queen pulled out all the stops for this one too—amazing food, open bar with fancy drinks, great music, even greater decorations. It’s gorgeous. I’d realized I should probably stop being such a bitch and make amends with him. As a gesture, I show up wearing the dress he gave me. 

“Prince Yeonjun?” I ask, watching his ears perk up as he turns around, a clear smile on his face at the sound of my voice. “Can I have a dance, please?” His face relaxes as he nods before he extends his hand to take me to the dancefloor. He performs his customary bow, followed by my curtsy. My tummy tingles a bit at the formality of it all. I feel like a princess. 

As my hand falls into his, nothing matters. Not our history. Not our future. Not his title. Not the lack of mine. I’m with him. We’re together. The soft music from the chamber orchestra is perfect accompaniment for us. 

I’d thought about the idea of us for so long. What we could be, what I want us to be, what I think he wants us to be. I don’t think it’ll ever work, but at least there’s tonight. There’s this dance. 

We sway together, hand in hand, my other hand on his shoulder while his rests around my waist. Eyes locked. His jacket catches the flicker of the chandelier while my gown flows down my waist and onto the floor gracefully. 

Expertly turning me, I can’t help but think back to the first night he broke my heart. Would he do that again? Pressing his hand firmer against my waist, I welcome it by pressing my body more securely against his.  The warmth between us grows stronger by the second. We’re falling in love again. Or maybe we already did. 

He towers over me, much like he did the night of our first kiss. Returning from a night where we’d once again snuck out to see each other, he walked me home. Standing on the front porch of my cottage, we refused to wish each other a good night. The moon was the only light source, but it was enough to see how handsome he was, even back then. 

“Yeonjun…” I whisper as he continues to lead us through a casual dance that lets us focus on a conversation. “I’m sorry.” He looks at me questioningly. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset about the dress. I felt…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I just felt so used, I dunno.” Horror crosses his face. 

“Mira…I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” I say. “But I felt like we could never be together, not really anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath and say, “Keeping secrets, never being able to tell everyone…we should probably stop…you know, what we’ve been doing.” I look up at him through my shaky eyes and he frowns but forces himself to nod. 

“If that’s what you want.”

“I just can’t,” I sniffle. “I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m right here.” He presses his hands even firmer against my waist to prove it. 

“But where were you seven years ago? I’ve—” My eyes can’t hold my tears any longer, breaking free to run down my cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Brushing the apple of my cheek with his thumb, he lifts my face to meet his eyes. “I’ve missed you too.” Pressing my lips together, I blink a tear out of my eye and I shake my head in protest. “Mira…listen.” He never lets me go. “I am so sorry for what I said that night. If I could take it back, I would.” I smile. “You know that doesn’t matter to me. You mean so much to me,” he says genuinely. “That night in Switzerland meant so much to me.” Everything halts. Our eyes meet. “But if you want me to stop, I will. I’ll never bring us up again.” 

“Us?”

“You know I’m yours whenever you’re ready.” The wind’s knocked out of me. My heart races as he inches closer and closer. So close I can see each individual eyelash. “Tell me to stop.” 

“No,” I say, welcoming his lips on top of mine. His lips meet mine softly, a whisper of a kiss that feels like a promise. It's gentle, tentative at first, like we’re both terrified to lose each other. But then, the years of longing we've kept hidden surge forward, and the kiss deepens.

The room around us fades away, the music, the murmurs of the crowd, the flickering candlelight—they all dissolve into a hazy backdrop. All that exists is us, bound together in this moment of rawness. His hands move from my waist to cradle my face, his touch tender yet insistent. My hands rest against his chest. 

His kiss is everything I've ever dreamed of—sweet yet passionate, comforting yet electrifying. It speaks of forgiveness and second chances. The saltiness of my tears mingle with the softness of his lips.

It's as if we're communicating without words. Each movement, each touch, each breath shared between us is a declaration of our feelings for each other. His arms encircle me, holding me close, and I feel safe, cherished, and utterly adored.

When we finally part, breathless and overwhelmed, our foreheads rest against each other, our eyes closed as we savor the moment. The world starts to come back into focus, but it's different now. Everyone’s eyes are on us. The room has come to a halt. Glancing around the room, there isn’t one person that hasn’t stopped what they’re doing to stare at us. Not us. Me. 

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Excuse me.” I scurry off quickly, leaving him there alone.

cw. unsupportive parents, classism, crying, love.

YEONJUN'S POV

Everyone watches as she runs off like it’s a movie. She’s picked up her skirt to avoid tripping, and her head hangs low as she searches for the nearest exit. I awkwardly look around the room, excusing myself with a few head bows.

Running through the castle hallway, I catch up to her right outside my bedroom door. Her forehead’s pressed against the doorframe, arms wrapped around her body while she waits for me. She’s waiting for me. That gives me hope. At least she’s not running from me anymore. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” I whisper, grazing my hand across her shoulder blade. “C’mere.” I pull her into my chest, wrapping one of my arms around her while I open the door with my free hand. I lead her to my bed where she sits awkwardly scrunched into a ball while I rush to flick on some lamps. Then, I sit next to her, my hand resting on her shoulder blade for comfort. 

“I can’t—” she can hardly speak through her tears. 

“It’s okay.”

“I can’t do this, Jjun, I can’t.” She’s shaking her head, tears running down her cheeks. “I really want to but I just…” She trails off. Before I can speak up, she adds, “Your mother—” 

My heart sinks. “My mother? Did she do something to you?” Pressing her lips together, she nods. “Take some deep breaths, love, and tell me what she did.” She does as I say, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, attempting to compose herself. 

“After,” she starts hiccuping and I encourage her to take more deep breaths by modeling the breathing technique she was using earlier. “After that night in Switzerland,” she begins, but it’s too difficult for her to speak. Pulling out her phone, she silently thumbs through her phone to her voice mail box. My mother’s voice, cold and stern, plays from the speaker. 

Mira Ashenrose, the audacious servant who dares aspire beyond her station, it has come to my attention that your eyes linger far too long on my son. Your actions are not only bold but also insolent, as you seem to have forgotten your place within my castle walls.

Let me be clear: the Prince's future is one of sovereignty and grandeur, a path predetermined by bloodline and duty. Any attempts to disrupt or divert his focus with your insignificant presence will be met with severe consequences.

You are a servant, a role you should embrace with humility and gratitude. Your duties do not include entertaining fantasies of a life beyond your given position, especially one involving a royal whom you are unworthy to even address directly.

Cease your imprudent behavior immediately. Should I find even the slightest hint of your infatuation resurfacing, you will discover that my patience is not to be tested. Your continued employment—and indeed, your very well-being—hangs by a thread of my tolerance, a thread that I am fully prepared to cut.

Do not mistake this warning for mere words. You will find that I am a queen of action. Refrain from crossing boundaries that were never meant for you, and remember your place. It is only in your compliance that you will find any semblance of mercy from me.

Consider this your only warning.

By this point, her crying has subsided to sniffles but I’m speechless. How could she have done this? “I woke up that night after we…were together. You were still next to me. I was just checking the time and I had that message waiting for me.” 

“Mira, I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

“I care,” she says. “I can’t be with someone whose mother thinks of me like this,” she says, gesturing to her phone. “And you used to think of me that way. What if you start thinking like that again? Or do you already think of me this way?”

“Of course not,” I say, grabbing her hands. “Look at me.” She puts on a brave face before looking me straight in the eye. “Do you wanna know what I think of you?” She hums. “Perfect. Beautiful. Kind. Caring. Talented.” Smiling to herself, she looks down at our hands. “That’s what I think of you.” She nods gently and I brush some hair back. “You should have told me.” She shakes her head. 

“I decided to quit anyway,” she sniffles. “I already put in my two weeks. That’s why I asked you to dance. I wasn’t gonna leave without dancing with you at least once.” She glances down at my lips. “Or kissing you at least once,” she giggles. 

“Or twice?”

She chuckles again, glancing down at the floor, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Sure.” I peck her lips gently. 

“Three times?” I ask, barely backing away from her. 

“How about you kiss me over and over until I tell you to stop?”

I don’t waste any more time playing silly games with her. I crash my lips into hers and we melt together, she groans against my lips and I deepen the kiss, my hand against her cheek. But she soon breaks it to ask, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me? You know, when I asked you to.”

“Because I thought if I did, you’d do exactly what you did the next morning,” I say. “I didn't wanna lose you.” 

Nodding, she runs her thumb across my knuckles. “What are we gonna do?” She asks. 

“About what?”

“Us.”

“There’s an us?”

“Ah, shut up,” she laughs, nudging my shoulder. “You know I’m yours whenever you’re ready.”

-

“Yeonjun, what is it? I’m very busy,” Mother says, not bothering to look up from the many papers that are shuffled across her desk. 

“Mother, we need to talk,” I say, my voice steady but firm.

Sliding her glasses off her nose, she drops them on the desk and turns in her chair to make eye contact. “You’re right,” she says and I look confused. “What are these policy proposals you wrote?” Why is she reading those? How did she even find them? “This Freshwater Sustainability Proposal,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“What’s wr—”

“This is some of your worst writing. Half of it doesn’t even make sense,” she says, my stomach dropping. Those were drafts. “I mean, what is this part about ‘aquatic ecosystem revitalization through bioremediation techniques’? You think the council will understand that jargon? And this section on ‘community-based water stewardship programs’? It’s laughably naive. Who’s going to manage these programs? Volunteers?”

“That is a well-researched proposal meant to—”

“Well-researched?” She scoffs, flipping through the pages with a dismissive hand. “It’s idealistic drivel, Yeonjun. We need practical solutions, not fanciful ideas that belong in a classroom.”

“These ideas could make a real difference.”

She waves a hand, brushing off my words. “Idealism is pointless. We can’t gamble on untested theories.”

“Untested theories?” I can’t help but let a note of disbelief slip into my voice. “They’re proven methods many other countries have successfully implemented.”

“Our priority is status and stability.”

“What good is status and stability if our environment collapses?” I challenge.

She glares at me, her eyes cold before she lets out an evil chuckle. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

“Is that why you feel the need to control every aspect of my life?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I take a deep breath, preparing for the moment of truth. “When did you find out about Mira?”

The question hangs in the air, catching her completely off guard. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, but she quickly masks her surprise. “Who? Oh, that servant that quit last week? I did see you two kiss at the party.”

“Don’t play games with me, Mother,” I say, my voice hard. “I know you knew about us before that. That voicemail you left her? Where you threatened her, told her she was nothing but a servant, and to stay away from me.”

She recovers quickly, her expression turning cold. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

“How dare you do such a thing?” I shoot back. “Mira is someone I care about and you had no right to interfere with our relationship,” I say.

“Relationship?” She rolls her eyes. “Your relationship is a shallow, pleasant distraction at best. She’s simply a way to blow off steam, to indulge in sexual frustrations.”

Ew. But okay. “It’s more than that, Mother. Mira means something to me.”

She sighs, a mix of impatience and disappointment in her voice. “Yeonjun, you’re too young to understand the complexities involved here. You have a duty to this kingdom, to your people. Mira is not part of that equation.”

“If you can’t find a way to accept the woman I love, then…I don’t know if there’s anything else for us to say to each other.”

“You’ve known her for three months, Yeonjun. You’re not in love.”

I shake my head. “We’ve known each other for seven years.”

“What?” She asks, shocked. “You’ve been seeing her behind my back for seven years?”

“No,” I say. “We used to date a while ago and then we…I dunno, started back up after she started working here.” 

“You think you love her,” she counters sharply. “But what you feel is temporary. It’s not sustainable. And you’re all for sustainability, right?” I roll my eyes. “I will not allow you to jeopardize your future and duty for a fleeting infatuation,” I say. “Your choices affect everyone,” she says, her tone unyielding. “Including the stability of this kingdom.”

“You’re trying to control me,” I accuse, feeling the weight of her authority pressing down on me.

“I’m trying to protect you. You must think beyond your own desires.”

Eventually, I say, “Mother, mind your business.” I storm off, headed in the direction of the garden to get some air. I don’t stop walking until I find myself sitting under the willow tree that Mira and I love so much. She’s always loved it here. 

Maybe Mira’s right—I don't know if it's such a great idea to be with someone whose mother thinks of them like mine does about her. Fuck, this is so unfair. Regardless, Mother’s getting what she wants. Us not together. 

Quiet footsteps approach me. Not now, please. I can’t argue with Mother anymore. 

“The woman you love, huh?”

“Mira,” I say, happiness evident in my voice. “Hi.” She smiles, holding her hands behind her back before she walks closer to me. “Um…” She sticks her hand out for me to grab and helps me to my feet. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear,” she says but I wouldn’t care if she were to be honest. “I was getting some water from the kitchen and overheard.” 

“Mira…” I say, an undeniable smile spreading across my face, my hands running down her arms, wrapping around her waist to bring her closer. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Why’s that?” She asks with a sweet smile. 

“I’m always happy to see you,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to hear what she said about you.” She shakes her head. “I do by the way,” I say. “I love you.”

“Fucking finally,” she whispers before reaching her arms around my neck to pull me closer to her, crashing her lips into mine. They move over each other passionately. She tastes so fucking delicious. She feels so fucking warm. She smells so fucking good. “Oh, I love you too,” she giggles, breaking the kiss. “Sorry, I should’ve said it sooner.”

“I love you too too,” I say between kisses. “So much. You have no idea.” She looks so sweet. “I guess we should probably talk about—”

Shaking her head, she says, “Not yet. Let’s just—” She gives me another deep kiss. “We can think about that later, okay?” I nod and press my lips to hers again. 

Everything is so perfect. The way her laugh echoes in my ear like nothing could ever go wrong, the way her body slowly but sensually grinds against my own, the way we know we love each other and can finally say it out loud, even if we don’t know what the future holds for us. 

Breaking the kiss gently, she’s absolutely stunning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as gorgeous as her. I brush my thumb across her eyebrow and say matter-of-factly, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “So are you.”

The air shifts. We’re alone and we’re hyper aware of that fact. I doubt anyone could even hear us. Our eyelids get heavy as we lean into each other, our lips touching in a fiery kiss that leaves me needing more. Holding her cheek in my hand, it grows deeper and hotter until a tiny moan leaves her mouth. “Fuck,” she says under her breath. “You’re such a good kisser.”

“That’s all you, baby,” I say, sliding my hand down to squeeze her amazing ass. 

“Yeonjun,” she whines. “You can’t tell me you love me and then not immediately fuck me.” 

“I can’t even imagine doing such a thing,” I chuckle.

“You think…” she glances behind her. “Think we can sneak into your room together?”

“Absolutely.”

Walking back to the castle makes us all the more giddy. Hands touching each other playfully, giggling and flirting in hushed tones all the way back to my room where I lead her to my bed. 

Landing on top of her, she’s so pretty. Covering every inch of her bare skin with kisses, I can’t stop whispering compliments to her. Real compliments I’ve always wanted to say. 

You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky I get to love you. I love every inch of you and I’m gonna show how much I mean it. 

“Please, Jjun, I need you.”

“You know I need to taste you first, though, right?”

“Of course.” She lets me slip her sweatpants off her legs, the cool air making goosebumps prick her skin. Her maroon thong is so sexy. Desperately moving her thong to the side, I take a deep breath, wanting to take my time with her. Letting go of her thong, it snaps back into place, covering her back up. I press my lips to her tummy, peppering her with soft and slow kisses. 

“So perfect,” I whisper against her skin. And I mean it. Every time I say it. “I could worship your body for hours.” 

“We’ve got time, my love.” 

All I know is by the time I’m done covering her body in kisses, the sun has completely set and she’s illuminated only by the lamp on my bedside table. But I can absolutely still see how beautiful she is. I could see her beauty in the pitch black. 

“Yeonjun,” she starts, pulling me up to look her in the eyes. She brushes some of my hair back and says, “Whatever happens after this, I want you to know—” I start to protest. What does she mean? I know what’s gonna happen after this. We’re gonna find a way to be together. “I want you to know that I love you, okay?”

“Mira…I love you too.”

“Just know that…” she takes a deep breath. “I’m yours.”

I give her a long, lingering kiss and say, “And I’m yours.”  

@aduh0308 request a tag :)

[suna-cerely-yours]

Say you love me (Losing all my innocence in the backseat) ft Tobio Kageyama

Synopsis: What should you do when you're being forced into marriage?

a. Seek ravishment from the most notorious rake

b. Get ravished by a stranger who you thought was the most notorious rake

c. Get married anyway d. All of the above

warnings: fem!reader, afab reader, 18+, mdni, themes of misogyny, historical inaccuracy, dubcon (not really but it's a case of mistaken identity), public sex, dry humping, making out, reader is called good girl.

a/n: think of it as a Bridgerton au. not historically accurate at all, and i might have gone overboard with the dialogue. i also use the phrase 'notorious rake' too much, but there's so much fun to be had in this universe

♛

"She's turning four and twenty next month! She debuted six years ago! She'll be on the shelf if you wait any longer. I've given enough autonomy to you, and clearly, I am the only one who's worried about the poor child!"

Your aunt announces to your mother a fair morning in September, having arrived at your townhouse in London a mere three days after you and your family had yourselves arrived for the season.

You freeze in your seat at the sudden change in topic (they had been discussing lace doilies, for heaven's sake), teacup raised halfway to your mouth. Your mother is also taken aback at this, although she hides it better than you, having years of experience dealing with your father's cousin.

Painting a gracious smile, ignoring your sudden personification of the stone gargoyles that graced the roof of your townhouse, she swallows her sip of tea.

"Surely, you've given this a lot of thought."

Your aunt sniffs, the flamboyant feathers on her dress quivering as you watch, teacup still in hand, " Someone has to! You handle a household so charmingly my dear, but you are too lax with your daughter. I should have known the moment you and my brother decided on teaching the lass Mathematics and Science. Honestly, had she taken up the piano forte instead she might already be popping out her third child!"

Your mother's smile becomes strained as she pats your hand, gesturing you to put down your teacup. "The piano forte is of course, a fine skill to be knowledgeable of. We have been looking for suitable er suitors for her, but you must know how the mart is, there's been a recent dearth of good men."

"What a load of hogwash that is! You know the ladies of the ton have been talking, after that whole ordeal with Lord Miya, especially Lady Evans- she gossips entirely too much for her own good. Either way, I have a perfect gentleman in mind for her, in fact they share quite a bit in common."

You watch in horror as your mother's interest piques at this, and your aunt barrels on. White noise fills your ears as you find yourself rising from the breakfast table, barely remembering to excuse yourself, rushing to your room. Gripping a bed post you lower yourself on your bed. It wasn't as if you were unaware of the fact that you were nearing an age after which you could no longer be looked at as an eligible option, nor were you unaware that your parents wished you married soon. However, you quite liked your life on the sidelines. You had a bit more autonomy than usual for an unmarried woman your age, and after what your friends and neighbors had said about marriage itself, you certainly were in no rush to partake.

You had to get out of this, by any means necessary.

♛

"D'you reckon Lady Wei has a female lover? I didn't know you could do that, Mama always said only men and women can be married, but that's such an old concept, don't you think?" your friend chatters, pointing out various people milling about at the Beauford-Shankar Annual Ball. You had attended every year, since your debut, and so had your friend, and usually the two of you would have a splendid time, pigging out on the different cakes and gossiping about the various characters who showed up each year. However, this year, you could barely stomach the few sips of lemonade you had, stomach turning at the prospect of meeting Lord Grant, the oh-so-perfect suitor your aunt has scrounged up.

"Oh!" she gasps, "and did you hear? Lady Garcia was ruined over the summer, by none other than our favorite rake, Lord Oikawa. She's apparently headed to the continent now, to traipse around, since she can spend her dowry as wishes. I wish I could do the same, Lord Oikawa please ruin me!" she laments, pretending to swoon against the window in front of which the two of you were situated.

Casting another cursory sweep around the ballroom, you turn towards your friend smiling, " And what news about our second favorite rake, Duke Kageyama? I overheard two ladies discussing he saved yet another poor girl from marrying her grandfather's schoolmate."

Your friend's eyes widen as she latches onto your arm, "Did I not tell you? He's so dashing, a libertine of course, having ruined what- at least fifty girls by now-" she stops to fan her face. "But all those women would have been positively miserable, had they married their intendeds. He's done the world a great good, if you were to ask me."

Smiling slightly, you're reminded of a quiet boy. You cannot recall his features very well, but it is rather hard to forget the only man who's ever caught your eye. You hadn't realized he'd turn into a libertine, but at least in your memories he'd always be the shy boy who'd helped his older sister secure her love match.

Lifting the glass of lemonade to your lips, you take a sip, before promptly choking, as you catch sight of your aunt and mother, being followed by a blonde gentleman, heading straight towards you.

♛

Tobio was decidedly not having a good time. Society events were low on the list of things he did enjoy, and after many years of not attending any, the Beauford-Shankar Ball was bordering unbearable.

"Tobio! Smile a little, you'll scare off all your admirers."

"Lord Sugawara, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's your first society event in nearly six years, why don't you look around? See if anyone catches your eye, or if you can even find that one girl who you used to stare at."

Tobio sputters, cheeks heating, "I- I didn't stare at anyone, and besides even if I had she would have been married by now."

Swallowing, an unbidden image of an eighteen-year-old girl comes to his mind, laughing at something Miwa had said to her. He'd been nineteen that year, much too young to even think about marriage and too focused on his sudden inheritance of the Kageyama dukedom. Miwa had married that year, and he had been running himself ragged trying to keep everything in order. But he remembered that one ball, the last one of that season, a young woman with a throaty laugh, big eyes and a closed posture, as if she were unsure of being there. He hadn't caught more than a glimpse of her, but her memory had remained, after all these years.

Suppressing a twinge of jealousy and sadness Tobio continued, "There was no one. Besides, it is becoming a little difficult to enjoy myself with all these Mamas glaring at me."

Sugawara tilts his head, surveying the room. "Ah, that must be because you've deflowered nearly fifty young ladies these few years."

"Yes, there's that but- wait, wait a moment, what? What did I do?" Tobio turns to Sugawara, astonishment smeared across his face, eyes narrowed incredulously.

"Deflowered, ruined, y'know all the good stuff." Sugawara shrugs with a small grin.

"No, what- I, no that's impossible. I- yes, there's been one or two women, but not- not young ladies. What are you saying?"

"Well, Your Grace, in the years you've declined to grace, ha, us with your presence, the gossip mill has churned quite a bit. You've prevented many marriages; I am sure you're aware."

Feeling completely discombobulated at the news, Tobio groans, "You have got to be jesting, there's no way- I certainly would know if I had ruined fifty young ladies, and I can assure you I have done no such thing."

"The truth is often not gossiped about my young friend. It seems as if the young ladies of the ton are taking advantage of your absence from society to escape from their intended marriages by using your name. They say they've been ruined by you, pay off a maid to spread rumors of 'catching' the two of you in the act and voila! No unhappy marriages for these women, and an expansion of your sordid reputation."

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Tobio sighs," and you did not think to inform me of these happenings, at least once?"

"I was completely under the impression that you were a right rake!"

Tipping his head back, Tobio sighs again. This was going to be a long season.

♛

"Well? What do you think about Lord Grant? He's the modern sort of man, isn't he?" your mother asks you the morning after the ball, hope evident in her eyes.

"He's nice, I suppose," you mutter, refraining from mentioning exactly how modern the man was. "Sure, if thinking a woman's only role in life is being a perfect wife- then yes, he's perfectly modern."

Your mother frowns at this," darling, you know Lord Grant is a better choice than being a spinster. He may have his faults, but your aunt is right, your father and I have been too careless on the topic of your marriage. You've always been the adjusting sort, surely you can adjust here as well?"

Pressing your lips together you offer no reply, choosing to focus on your breakfast instead. Your mother sighs, pressing her fingertips to her temple.

"All of this would have been easier had you just accepted Earl Miya's proposal two years ago. I don't see how you could refuse a man of his type!"

"Lord Miya had proposed to me because he had lost a wager, Mama. I was not going to marry a man only because he was trying to honor his dignity."

"Nonsense, wherever did you get such an idea!"

"Well, you see, the other Lord Miya-"

"And whyever would you be a wager forfeit, of all things!"

There was no arguing against her. "Mama, I do not wish to marry Lord Grant."

Your mother appeared to have gained selective hearing.

"There's to be another ball tonight. You will dance with Lord Grant and form a more solid opinion on him. Your father is already quite fond of him."

"Mama, why are we doing this now? We don't have to listen to Aunt-"

"And stay away from the edges of the room and other dark corners, Lord Sugawara is friends with the nastiest men, I do not know why, he is a gracious man, but London's notorious are sure to be there tonight. The last thing we need is you to be found with, with that Lothario Oikawa, or worse, Kageyama!"

Rolling your eyes this time you retort, "Mama, the ton hasn't seen Duke Kageyama in years, I wouldn't even know who to look out for. As for Lord Oikawa-"

You stop. Lord Oikawa, notorious libertine, deflowerer of virgins, and all-round suave gentleman. Lord Oikawa, who from the whispers of the ton, was tall and handsome, and never turned a lady down.

You smiled.

"Mama, please be sure to ask Lord Grant to find me before the final waltz."

♛

"You've completely lost it, haven't you?"

You choose to ignore your friend, and continue your search for Lord Oikawa.

"Why is it, that he's our favorite rake, yet we've never actually seen what he looks like?"

"He's tall and handsome and has the prettiest eyes, or so I'm told. There cannot be many men that fit that description, can there?"

You discreetly point to a man standing in front of the painting of a fruit bowl, seemingly immersed in thought.

"There, he fits the bill perfectly, would you not say?"

Your friend follows your finger, before seeming to melt at the sight of the man.

"That's Baron Wakatoshi, he is quite tall and handsome, isn't he?"

"What about the man on the stairwell?"

"That's Lord Kuroo, he's quite a catch too, I must say-"

"What about him?" you whisper urgently, "in the center of the gaggle of mamas."

"That's Lord Kita, any lady who catches his eye would be the luckiest woman ever. And I mean ever-"

You groan, pressing your palm to your face. Why was Lord Sugawara acquainted with so many tall and handsome men? Granted he too was a part of the set, but surely friendship required more criteria? Perhaps a love of Plato, or horse riding?

Your friend suddenly tugs at your wrist, "that's him, oh my goodness, it has to be! Look at the refreshments, in the maroon coat, that's Lord Oikawa!"

An icy shiver bolted down your spine, as you glanced at the refreshments table. Now that you had found him, it was time to seduce him.

"The maroon coat you say?"

"Yes, he's reaching for that pastry look!"

You paused.

"That is not Lord Oikawa. That's Lord Miya."

Your friend looks at you with her eyes widened.

"You turned down a proposal from that man? It's worse than I thought!"

"No, I turned down a proposal from his brother, although they are identical, I suppose."

Your friend moaned," why haven't you introduced me to him, I could have been Lady Miya by now. You're a terrible friend."

"Er, I'm not exactly friends with him, but I'm sure he'll recognize me. Do you want an introduction now, or-"

A flash of navy catches the corner of your eye. You sharply turn your head, to watch a tall, dark-haired man slip out the garden door. Frowning, you glance at the clock, the final waltz would begin soon, and no gentleman would escape to the gardens right before it. It had to be him.

"I- I'm heading to the gardens, if Mama comes looking for me, tell her I'm in the gardens."

Your friend, still fixated on Lord Miya, flutters her hand in a go shoo motion. "Happy ravishment dear, tell me how it goes will you?"

♛

Tobio never should have believed Sugawara. Tonight's ball was worse than the previous and once Tobio caught sight of Oikawa it had been game over. Without looking back, he had rushed out the doors into the cool night. Making his way through the garden maze, he arrives at the center of it, where a small waterfall sparkles under the moonlight. Loosening his cravat, he pulls it off and slips it into his pocket, gulping fresh air. Tilting his head back, he closes his eyes, grateful for the solitary moment. He'd always hated the London ton- the socializing, the small talk, the judgement. Perhaps he ought to retire for the season and return back to his country home.

A rustling of skirts draws his attention, and he turns quickly, eyes flying open and, oh.

It's you. The girl from six years ago.

You don't quite look the same, but you do. Your stand straight now, eyes fixed on him. The same eyes, the same lips. Tobio feels the strongest urge to say something jocular, to hear you laugh again- to know if it was the same. However, before he can open his mouth, you're making your way to him, purpose in your steps. Instinctively he takes a step back, the back of his shins bumping into a stone bench.

"I," you begin, and Tobio's lips part at your voice.

"I," you say again, before stopping to take a deep breath. It takes every ounce of strength to Tobio has to not let his eyes flicker down as your bosom heaves with the motion.

"You're Lord Tooru Oikawa."

Tobio blinks. It cannot be, there's no way. No fucking way.

Before he can inject, you continue, effectively quashing any opportunity for him to rectify your mistake.

"I'm going to just say it, so please listen. I need to be ravished, right now."

Tobio's head has stopped working, and clearly so have his ears. There is no way in actual hell you said what he thought you did, and not to someone you thought was fucking Oikawa.

"I know it's improper to ask, and I'm not sure how these things go exactly, but I really need you to- to," you stumble over your words, clearly unsure what a ravishment entails.

Tobio finally finds his words and raises a hand to stop you.

"You have the wrong person, and I'm not sure why you're here, but your reputation would be ruined if you were to be found with me. Please let me leave you alone."

Heart pounding, he goes to move, but you quickly close in on the few paces that separate the two of you. Startled by your sudden proximity, Tobio drops down on the bench behind him.

"No, please. You don't understand- I need you to, to ruin me."

"You want to be fucked by Oikawa?" Tobio asks incredulously, feeling too confused and hurt to register the use of profanity before a young lady.

You frown, brow furrowing.

"Er, yes- I want to be ahem fucked, by you," you whisper the word, and a shiver runs down Tobio's back.

You move closer, placing your hands on his shoulders, and nudging his legs apart so that you can stand between them.

"Please, fuck me."

♛

You had no idea why Lord Oikawa was referring to himself in third person, but you decided to move on to more pressing matters. The man in question was looking up at you, eyes darkened, and mouth parted.

The rumors weren't wrong, and with a face like that- you could see why the ladies of the ton were queuing up to be ravished by this man.

There was something so curiously familiar about this man as well, although you suppose that was a part of his charm as well.

His hands rise to hover around the vicinity of your waist- hesistating.

Impatiently you guide his hands to your waist, heart backflipping as he immediately squeezes and pulls you closer to rest his head on your stomach.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

You shiver at his dark tone, acutely aware of his hands wandering, stopping occasionally to press into a particularly plush part.

"I know what I want."

"What if I were to tell you this is it? This is all there is to ravishment?"

"No!" you blurt out, sinking your hands into his hair and pulling, "it's not enough."

Inhaling sharply, he tugs, pulling you fully into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Wrapping an arm around your waist he leans in, lips brushing yours as he speaks, warm breath fanning across your face.

"Say it again, tell me what you want."

Heat pooling in your lower stomach, you swallow once before you're able to get the words out. You feel your nipples peak, pushing against the thin silk of your dress.

"I want you to fuck me," you whisper, "I need you to fuck me."

His eyes flutter shut as slowly exhales, one hand sliding up your back to rest on your nape. Tilting your head back he leans forward and presses an open-mouthed kiss right in between your collarbones, then lower. You gasp as he licks across your décolletage, nipping at the swells of your breasts. Your nerves feel on fire, liquid lava coursing as he continues his ministrations.

"Who?" he murmurs, "Who do you need to fuck you?"

Whimpering you grind down on his lap, desperate for some sort of friction. Cursing softly, he rolls his hips up, and you whine as something hard presses against your core, at just the right angle- leaving you incapable of coherent thought.

"Please, again, just-" you cry, desperately searching for that rhythm again. Panting, he grips your waist again, lifting and moving you on his lap so that you're able to chase your pleasure.

The two of you rock together, Oikawa cursing under his breath as he scrambles to untie the laces holding your dress together. A faint part of you wonders why a rake with so much experience was struggling with a mere corset, but that thought vanishes the moment he slips his hands into your dress. Grinding against him, you frantically get rid of your gloves as he pushes your bodice down, baring yourself for him and the cool night. Sinking your hands into his hair you gasp again, as he nips at the edge of your nipple, before enveloping the entire thing.

"I. I'm-" you feel something building inside you, gasping for air.

"Yeah, just from this? Fuck, let go darling, I have you, just-"

You moan as your pleasure crashes over you, panting. He holds you close through it, pressing gentle kisses wherever he can reach. Panting, you come down from your high, hands gripping his shoulder for purchase.

Cheeks warm, you lift your head to look at him, finding his dark eyes trained on you.

"Open your mouth," he whispers, breath fanning over your face. Swallowing, you follow his orders.

"Wider."

You part your mouth even more. Pausing for a heartbeat, his eyes flicker down to your lips, before the corner of his mouth lifts- just barely- the beginnings of a half-smile. Leaning in, he licks into your mouth, muffling your whine. You move to kiss him back, but he sharply draws back.

"Did I say you could do that? Sit on my lap and keep your mouth open, just for me."

Eyes flickering shut, you part your mouth once more, waiting.

"You're such a good girl."

Saliva pools in your mouth as he continues licking, one hand gripping your jaw, palm resting against your neck, to keep you in position- the other slipping under your dress, flirting up your thigh.

Which is exactly how your mother, your aunt, and Lord Grant find the two of you.

♛

Your aunt's shriek pierces the night, causing the two of you to fly apart- well it would've, had Lord Oikawa not held firm on your very naked back. There was certainly no way to misconstrue what was happening here.

Biting your lip to hide a smile, you glance up at Lord Oikawa, who seems shell-shocked.

"What on earth is this! I cannot believe it, this- this is a mistake," your aunt continues, as more people start trailing over, alerted by your aunt's shriek. Your mother rushes over immediately, "Your dress, button up your dress, my god."

Oikawa seems to spring into action at this, sliding his coat off and covering you, ensuring you're completely covered before helping you slide off his lap and stand on your own. As more people crowd around, hushed murmurs and gasps fill the air, the rake strikes again!

The crowd parts as two tall gentlemen make their way.

"What is the issue here-"

"Oho? What indeed is the issue here?"

"Lord Sugawara, Lord Oikawa," the man behind you (still standing so close) begins, before stopping short.

You decide to take over, your plan had worked splendidly, might as well help the man out a little.

"Lord Sugawara, Lord Oikawa," you begin as well, curtseying to the best of your ability in the oversized coat.

Wait. Lord Oikawa?

You whip your head back at the man behind you, and then at the men in front of you.

"Lord Oikawa?" you ask again, hesitantly, and the man beside Lord Sugawara makes a noise of affirmation.

"Tobio-chan, it looks like you've surpassed me and Lord Miya!"

Dread fills you as you realize why Lord Oikawa, no, not-Lord-Oikawa had been speaking in third person and had been so insistent on names.

You turn to your mother, who looks like she's taken to praying, and then back to the man behind- now beside you.

Lord Kageyama.

Thoughts racing, you breathe. No harm done anyway, all you needed was to be ravished- what did it matter if it just so happened to be the quiet boy who had caught your eye six years ago, who had somehow turned into a rake. How did you not recognize him?

"Alright everyone, let's let the family handle this. Back to the ball, off you go," the other Lord Miya's voice cuts through the chatter, and you catch his bemused eye as he winks at you.

Your aunt comes forward, anger visible on her face.

"I will marry her."

Everyone stops.

Lord Kageyama turns to you, " Let's get married."

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

There's something in the differing emphasis that Brad and Hunter and Charles place on the phrase "good guy" that really affected me on my first watch and hit even harder on my second. I'm going to try and put it into words.

When Brad and Hunter say it, they say "we're good guys", as in, good at everything a guy "should" be good at - good at sports, popular with the ladies, on their way to a good university. But they turn out to be total shitheads. They don't care about being "good", they just care about their reputation, how they're perceived. It's status and power - they're good guys and they feel entitled to do whatever they want.

But when Charles, feeling betrayed by this reveal of their character, says he wanted them to be good guys, the emphasis is completely different. Charles wants to be a "good guy". He doesn't want to be a "bad guy".

The emphasis is on good, because that's really the crux of Charles' greatest fears, isn't it?

When Charles wants to be a good guy, he doesn't mean it the way Brad and Hunter do; that veneer of goodness that comes with popularity. He means that nothing he did was ever good enough for his dad. Doing the good thing and helping that kid his "friends" were beating up literally got him killed. Trying to stop Devlin only got him trapped in the loop, stuck until his friends freed him, only able to watch helplessly as a mother and her innocent children get slashed to death before his eyes.

And it's this helplessness that is the thing that truly sets him off at the end of episode 4.

It always struck me just how much of his breakdown there, for as much as he finally gives a voice to his own hurt at the injustice of his situation, was still about other people. Because he was secure-ish, at one point, when he was Edwin's partner and protector. He thought he did a good job at it anyways, but guess not, because something obviously happened with Edwin and he's not talking to him about it. And he likes to think he did good with solving cases, but Crystal is still hurting and haunted by a demon and nearly threw herself off a cliff earlier that day because she wants her parents so badly, and he's no closer to helping her solve that. And all of it, every single part of it, is a reflection of his own unresolved trauma; that he never "made it better" and he can't, so now he tries to be good enough for other people, but that isn't working anymore either, and now someone is threatening to take Edwin away, and even this final shocking act of anger and violence is still in service of protecting; of saving someone from the suffering he was never able to escape except by fucking dying.

His anger, really, stems from the injustice of it all, and the abuse of power by guys who can get away with it because they're guys, when they should've, could've, been good to others instead. It's a large part of why he projected so strongly onto Brad and Hunter - they did everything right, they were good guys who got screwed over, because even if everyone seems to love you, there's always that one person you can never please, right? Who will hurt you, no matter how good you are. When it's revealed that Brad and Hunter are far more like his bullies, like Devlin, like his dad, than he'd thought - controlling, intolerant, cruel to those who "step out of line" - Charles feels betrayed and horrified because he related to them... so what does that say about him?

But here's one major difference that Charles does not seem to recognize well. Charles has never had the power in these situations. He was the victim, and his being the victim is through no fault of his own, but the fault of those who decided to be cruel. It is certainly not contingent on how good he is. Being good in the eyes of people who want to hurt you will not stop them from hurting you.

When he lashes out at the Night Nurse, it's out of helplessness and rage. Once again, he's pitted against someone who holds more power than he does and is threatening harm, and he's just been bitterly, brutally reminded that a smile and a helping hand and a firm word never, ever worked to make it stop. There's only one other way he can think of to shift the balance of power, and he's finally livid enough to actually do it. This violence is a desperate attempt to finally overcome yet another force much greater than him, a transdimensional entity that has unjustly arrived to take his best friend to Hell. And Charles wins, he did it, he stopped her, at least for the moment. But at what cost, when he looks at his friends and can't tell whether they look more scared for him or of him? And can he blame them, when he's clearly scared of his own anger and how overwhelming it is now that it's been let out?

Because he tries so hard to be good and it's never good enough to stop the suffering. Because that anger rose to the surface so easily and maybe that means he's not good at all.

But of course, Charles once again misses something important here - there is a distinction in why that anger exists. His dad, Devlin, and Brad and Hunter get angry because their power over others makes them feel they have a right to punish when things don't go their way. Charles gets angry because he feels more helpless than he'd care to admit, and seeing cruelty inflicted onto others by those with power makes him want to cut them down to size.

And herein lies the second major difference. Charles... is a kind person, at heart. He's genuine. He really does likes helping out, he likes making people happy, he doesn't turn people away who need help, he's friendly and protective. The scene where Edwin pulls him out of his fear that he's somehow bad even though he really doesn't want to be, is outright one of my favourite scenes for what it brings to both of their characters. Edwin knows exactly what to say. While it's always good to check your behaviour, to apologize and take accountability - because no one can be good all the time, and even the most well-intentioned of us will mess up sometimes - Edwin is right.

"Bad guys do not worry about being bad guys."

[cross-crye]

𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙

TW: some graphic descriptions of pain and just result of overblot violence?? idrk how else to phrase it

hurt/comfort

wc: 2.2k

first person pov; reader is yuu

vil schoenheit x reader; takes place after book 5

also on Ao3 -> read here

"To be loved is to be changed" is a saying I heard rather often back in my world, but hadn't quite grasped the meaning of until recently.

I mean, just how can some half baked gestures of affection and an possibly faked fondness truly change a person?

Or at least that's what I used to think.

And all I have to thank for changing my mind is him.

――――

Initially, I couldn't have imagined how life could become any worse. Just how can you top being transported to another universe with no hope of finding a way home? The crushing feeling of despair that comes with the prospects of having to come to terms with such a predicament outright suffocates any figment of positivity you could hope to grasp.

Then the overblots started.

And that was so much worse than anything I could have imagined. I never knew what it was like to choke on the same air you breathe just because the blot in your immediate vicinity was so thick, that it had even started building a layer inside your lungs due to the continued inhalation. I never knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of magic so unrestrained and powerful that I felt its impact on the bones inside my body, even before they were finished breaking. And all I can wish for is to forget those feelings.

I wish I can forget the fear and desperation that controlled my body during Riddle's overblot. I wish I could've done something to actually help. While I couldn't have possibly been expected to be able to deal with the situation, sometimes I still felt guilty about it. First time (and supposedly only) I’d witnessed an overblot and all I could think of was how bad I had felt for riddle. While at the time I didn't quite like him much and we certainly weren't friends, and I had no obligation towards him, I couldn't help but feel guilty. I was complaining at having been a victim of an overblot but couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of pain he’d been in when that thing took over his bodily autonomy. Did he choke on his own blot? Did his bones break and shift as the blot expanded and changed his body? Did he still remember what he did while in that form controlled and erased his will?

After Riddle’s overblot I started to go to Coach Vargas outside of classes in order to learn some basic self defence tehniques.

Then the spelldrive tournament came round. And I went through the worst experience of my life a second time.

I wish I can forget the way in which I lost touch with my senses during Leona's overblot. Despite being more prepared to deal with it that time around I remained virtually useless. I could barely see through the thick cloud of swirling sand. Even though I desperately wish I could forget, I still remember how I could feel the rough sand scratching at the back of my neck as I spoke, hoping to talk Leona down that ledge. Again I had found myself feeling bad for the house warden. I wouldn't say I pitied him, as any student at NRC would be too prideful to do anything but take offence to such a claim, but rather that I felt dismay in his place. I once again felt haunted by questions I shouldn't have been asking myself. How did Leona live with the guilt of almost ending Ruggie's life? Did he even feel such a thing?

After Leona's overblot I started to spend my weekends learning first aid.

Then my idiot friends got wrapped up in Octavinelle's ‘deal with the devil’ sort of crap. And dragged me down with them.

I wish I could forget how suffocation feels. But I cant. Sometimes I wake up feeling like those tentacles are still wrapping around me and squeezing around my neck until my airway closes. Sometimes I still feel as if all it takes is the tiniest of pressure and my bones will break. Seems it didn’t matter to the Great Seven just how desperate I was to forget, I couldn't shake the feeling of drowning in somebody else's blot. Unsurprisingly, I had begun to feel bad for Azul as well. I could empathise with him, which made it all the worse as I could, for once, truly tell just how little I'd help him. The questions followed once again. Seems like my own thoughts would damn me if they could. Seeing as how I ended up almost drowning in his blot; Did Azul breathe through it? Did he, in all three of his (alleged) hearts not hold a shred of guilt for what he'd done to me? And to so many another? Did he know how many potions I had taken to fix my crushed rib cage? And if he did, why did he refuse to address it and pretend as if nothing happened?

After Azul's overblot, I found myself visiting the Octavinelle pool every so often, practising both my swimming and holding my breath. (The offer to access the pool undisturbed was an indirect bribe from Azul to buy my silence about the picture)

Then the winter break rolled around and I had thought I finally got a break. Only I was wrong.

I wish I could forget what it felt like to be stripped of my own free will. My stay in Scarabia was the most terrifying thing I had faced. Living where I had lived, I was terrified of loosing my freedom. It was the only thing money couldn't buy. So when I was controlled so easily and forced to act unlike myself and against my wishes I was stuck inside my own mind accompanied by a terror unlike anything I could've imagined. This was why Jamil was the one with whom I’d struggled the most to patch things up with and why he was the one it took the most time to be open to trust again. Despite all this I still felt bad for him. It was undoubted that life had dealt him a bad hand of cards that he sure wasn't going to win any poker games with. (Unless he's the smartest person at the table and fools everyone with a good bluff; But life isn't poker and the only way you win is by getting a good hand or cheating) I just had to wonder about him too. Did he feel any better when he overblotted? Did it finally grant him the freedom he craved? Could he remember the feeling of finally being the one to hold the power and call all the shots?

After Jamil's overblot I started to research magical artifacts. I worked diligently for months at Sam's shop to finally afford one that would prevent me from being controlled again.

Then the VDC was announced. My initial excitement was squashed like a bug by the fifth and hopefully final overblot.

For once I don't have anything I crave to erase from my memory. Its rather tragic if true, but after a certain ammount of overblots there are some things you just get used to. Which is why I might not outright wish for oblivion. The only question that remains is: Did I get used to the pain, or did I get used to the hopelessness of trying to forget it?

Upon further consideration, it might be that the reason as to why I didn't want to forget Vil's overblot was because of what it did to me. Unlike all my prior experiences, this overblot had actually resulted in a positive outcome albeit in an extremely roundabout way.

Throughout his time living at Ramshackle for VDC prep, Vil and I had formed an unlikely friendship. I would be delusional to claim that we were each other’s confidantes, but that didn't mean we had no concern for one another either. Vil had been a great help to me, and someone whose company I greatly enjoyed. I admired him beyond his looks, I found his drive, ambition and ideals to be inspiring. In the short time we'd gotten to know each other he'd quickly become a person I looked up to. And even if he wouldn't outright say it, I know he started to value my opinions.

In the beginning it was merely curiosity. I came from a different world after all. While at first his only interest in my views and beliefs was only fuelled by his own inquisitive desire my insight earned me his respect. He begun to show his appreciation for my contributions in the VDC prep his own way. What to others sounded like a judgemental comment, I knew was a nudge towards bettering myself. And that's how my now most valued relationship started.

What had really brought us together though, was, ironically enough, seeing each other at our most vulnerable.

――――

It was just another ordinary night. The VDC was still a week away and everybody was in high spirits. Except for me that is. It was supposed to be her birthday. My friend's. From back home. My real home, outside of twisted wonderland. Seeing the date in the calendar was only a grim reminder of the life I could never get back. I don't think I had ever missed home as much as I had in that night. The feeling of home sickness was too much to take. All I could do was pity myself and eventually resign to the hopelessness of it all.

Despite having held on to it for so long, my last remaining shred of hope had died that night. I foolishly thought that I could comfort myself, if even temporarily with a familiar sight. Rather than spend my restless night staring at the run down ceiling and slowly spiralling into an even more fragile mental state, I had decided to go outside on Ramshackle’s front porch and watch the stars. It had always used to calm me when I felt poorly back home.

Only when I went outside and really focused on the shining night sky, I couldn't recognise a single star.

It was that realisation that finally broke me. I was alone, and no matter what I’d do or how much I’d hope, home was something I wouldn’t have again. My reactions were outside of my control in that moment, and I felt my eyes start to water as I begun sobbing silently, all my desperation and depression manifesting itself unrestrained for the first time since I had come to Twisted Wonderland.

It was how Vil found me, tears streaming down my face and an overall wreck. He’d initially planned on scolding me for disregarding his rules, similarly to how he’d done with Ace, Deuce and Grim when they went for a midnight snack. Upon noticing the state I was in, that plan had been completely thrown out the window, as instead he’d talk to me and comfort me. Despite what others would think, his efforts were genuine, and while his words didn’t directly convey it, the fact that he’d been willing to stay outside with me a little longer (effectively sacrificing his own valuable time and strict sleeping schedule) before convincing me to return to my room to sleep and rest properly showed just as much.

I noticed that things had started to change after that night. He’d keep a slightly more attentive eye on me, taking an even more direct role in my well-being. While his newfound dedication was subtle, he set me on a path of pursuit of self-improvement.

In return, I had extended him the same curtsy. Following his overblot I’d offered to be a sort of shoulder to cry on. I had confessed to him to just what extent my admiration of him ran. And it ran deep. I’d told Vil how I thought his drive for improvement was inspirational, how his morals were commendable. I’d even followed it up with a sheepish joke about how it would probably serve me well to be at least a bit more like him.

Things started to work themselves out from there. Vil and I had begun to grow closer and spend more time together, eventually becoming romantically involved. Things had finally started to look up for me after all those months in this strange world. When I’d first come to NRC I had been haunted by those memories and feelings. I couldn't escape the doubt and the questions that always lingered in the back of my mind. But Vil had helped me with that. He’d helped me regain hope for my future, and while I still couldn’t find it in me to dream about returning home, I gave myself a chance to hope for a good, successful future free of torment. One where I could finally be truly happy again.

Many people didn’t understand this, but Vil wasn’t obsessed with people being beautiful, but rather with them being the best version of themselves. And despite it all, he was helping me do just that.

cross-crye © 2024.

no reposting, stealing, copying, translating my works or feeding them to AI

reblogs, comments and likes are all highly appreciated

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 13: First Impressions

Woo! DRDT! It is time! Time for despair! Let’s go! My excitement has not faded in the slightest from last week; if anything, it’s stronger than before. Here are my first impressions of this week’s episode!!!

Spoilers for CH2 EP13

CW Suicide, violent murder, mafia mention, suicide, hanging, self-harm.

It’s starting! Levi’s got some explaining to do. Will someone (say, Eden) have an interesting reaction?

Alright, J’s not the one I expected to have first reaction, but cool.

“You…” Is Ace okay? 

“Ah. I didn’t expect that.” Rose’s legendary reaction.

YOU CANNOT “THAT’S WACK” THIS SITUATION WHIT

Oh, so people know, but the court struck it. Interesting.

Ah, there’s the Ace reaction. Also, “no way Hope’s Peak scouted a murderer” but you have a poisoner on another secret and an art forger, at least. Not the same level maybe, but still. 

“Don’t make the mistake of switching cause and effect.” Of course Hope’s Peak is responsible, that was my first gut instinct. God, it’s so shady in this universe.

Woo, Levi backstory! Three “old enemies?”

… Bro??? I don’t think any of us actually expected more than one murder, but I might be wrong on that. Self-defense, then two first degrees, huh?

“Were you in the mafia or something?” Thanks J.

“I don’t think I need to elaborate” No, you do. You really should elaborate. Please? For me?

“Who did you even kill?” And… Levi!Accomplice is looking rougher by the second. Then again, maybe she didn’t know.

Levi tracked two of them down, but doesn’t know who they were? How?

“That car I blew up once?” HUH???

“That’s… kind of a lot to admit all of the sudden.” True, Rose. I’m trying to see what he’s cooking, but I can’t tell.

How do you forget this? Jeez.

“How could you forget?” You know, Arturo, I was kinda irrationally worried Charles was about to throw in his secret phrase, but it’s cool that you avoided that. Thanks.

[For the uninformed; it’s theorized the characters will, at some point in the series, say the quotes hidden in the source code of their dedicated pages out loud, since Min and Arei both said theirs, and Xander’s could be in a flashback. That means that if a character says their secret quotes, their chances of dying go up drastically.]

“If you don’t care about murder, you could be the murderer.” (Paraphrased) Yes thanks Veronika not the point. 

“Almost as if you don’t care…” Great. I didn’t know where Levi was going with this, now I don’t know where Veronika is going with her schtick.

I’m surprised Ace is taking it relatively well [as in, not outwardly terrified]. I guess near death does that to someone.

Woo! Time frame! Junior high school! 

Interesting, so he didn’t start fashion because of the murder. That’s kinda what I was thinking, but I was wrong.

We’re getting our first crumbs of Hope’s Peak being ultra shady in main series! After Rose’s backstory ig. Unfortunately the “pretentious revolutionaries” aren’t here to “hand out tickets of lead” ← LGI brainrot

“It could also refer to the time I murdered my father.”

… 

???????????????????????????

You didn’t lead with that?! Also, what?! I laughed out loud at the fucking absurdity of the statement, but what?!

“It’s a bit of a bother.” The bothersome part is that they’re phrased vaguely and not that they reveal you’re a murderer, got it.

“Go back!” Thank you J.

What do you mean I think. Bro how many people have you killed? What in the name of Kirisaki Shidou [/ref]?

“Not even the police cared about a man like him.” ??? Also, wasn’t your dad a bad influence? You’ve mentioned him before, it didn’t sound that bad- Wait, is he lying? No way he’s lying. Hold on, let me watch more.

[In retrospect, I doubt he’s lying, but his story is certainly weird]

“I see no reason to remain hung up-” Then why are you bringing it up. I still can’t fucking tell what you’re trying to accomplish here.

Eden’s reaction is… neutral, I guess? Makes sense either way?

Eden!Culprit has always been hard to maintain during the trial, huh… Still took the tape though. And I guess it’s potentially interesting she’s getting this much dialogue about Levi’s thing. Teruko’s yet to speak this episode.

“I wonder if I should really tell the truth…” Bro what do you mean there’s more truth to tell?

Oh, hey, speaking of Teruko. And it seems she and I share a mind.

“I don’t care about people at all.” Ooooh, I like this. Some kind of condition?

I feel a little bit like Veronika, interested in hearing his experience with this. Feeling like Veronika is probably a bad thing.

“You’re still a stranger to me.” Levi’s quickly climbing the ranks of fave characters, btw. This is super interesting.

“But you’re a good person-” DO NOT “good person” right now, Eden! That’s a point to Levi!Accomplice, maybe? Maybe not? I don’t know what’s happening. And I still don’t get what Levi is trying to do here.

Double “good person?” Bro what is happening.

“I don’t personally care what happens to Ace.” Mood (that’s a joke I like Ace).

PFT- Ace’s reaction lol.

“But it is “good” to make sure someone else doesn’t die-” Goodbye Levi!Accomplice! I liked you, but I’m probably gonna go try to find other theories after this episode :p (This is a joke, btw; if I didn’t discount theories like Hu!Culprit when the new alibis came up, I’m not going to completely abandon Levi!Accomplice over this. But, just saying, there might be a few revisions to be made)

“Haha. You…” Ace breakdown! Breakdown! (I'm absolutely acting like Veronika now).

“I was right all along.” Yeah, Ace ‘can tell a hawk from a handsaw’ Markey, nice one. (Does anyone even know/remember why I’m referencing that line or is LGI too far in the past for that?)

New Ace sprite! Cool one too. Clutching his heart, Acevi shippers eating ig. 

“Good thing I didn’t fall for it. Not one bit.” Oh they’re eating GOOD good!

“There’s only one person in my whole life who I’ve ever been able to call my friend-” IS THAT A FUCKING TAYLOR REFERENCE?!?!?! Holy shit, I don’t know how many people are even gonna remember we have a canon name for that dude. I hope someone still has the screenshot of the deleted answer from the CH2 Part 1 Q&A. 

“I really hope you fucking die.” We are active in Trial 2 Part 2, huh? Between Arturo telling him to “shut his whore mouth” and this, Levi’s getting verbally jumped!

“You’re quite the interesting person, Levi” Please Veronika, give me the psychoanalysis.

Dude, that’s three “good person” drops all on Levi. Chat the importance of this phrase may have been slightly overexaggerated by me (then again, the list of “good person” people has yet to grow from last chapter).

“You act like a big pushover because-” This is the psychoanalysis I came to see!

I don’t know if I’d call it “intuitive understanding” but I guess Levi’s not fully wrong about Veronika.

Four “good person.” And that’s not counting Veronika’s “good people.”

Five. Also, this continues to be interesting. Why did Levi bring this up again?

“After looking at David, I thought being honest-” Okay that’s hilarious.

“Try looking in a mirror…” First David line of the episode, right? And it’s a nice one of course.

That’s six cases of “good person” in this chapter alone holy shit. At least it’s David, who still had counts.

“I apologize for this tangent” Then can you please explain why the tangent exists in the first place? Or is it really just because being honest is "good"?

[Spoilers. It really was because of that. What]

“I can’t believe there was a time I liked you.” Yeah Acevi is still eating good. I doubt the hostility is gonna drive the shippers away; that’s what they’re here for, right?

And of course Whit’s first line makes him look suspicious. Bro you have an alibi for the time of disappearance of fish and you didn’t take the tape from the gym, stop pretending to be the killer.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Thank you Hu, but let me jump to a conclusion. Is Levi not gonna explain why he revealed his secret beyond the honesty thing?

Okay J’s response is good too.

“No, [Arei] didn’t [talk to Levi about the secret]” Bro what the fuck are we even talking about anymore.

“I don’t have a defense” (Paraphrased) No but seriously what. I’m this close to ripping out my hair. What is he doing.

“We don’t have evidence [Levi is the murderer]” Thank you Teruko Tawaki for being one of three competent people in the building. This is affectionate, one of my favorite parts of the DRDT cast is that they all suck at class trials lol :p

Bro Whit is trying REALLY HARD to look like the murderer rn. I’m still not letting him convince me. Yet.

“I realized that motives alone are not concrete evidence.” Yayyyy! Progress!

“I feel a sneeze coming on…” Dude David and Teruko need to get into comedy, they’re fucking hilarious.

“One second please.” Hu I trusted you. Why. You’re revealing your secret, right?

“...I didn’t want you all to think less of me.” Aww, poor Hu. No one’s gonna think less of you, you’re doing awesome (I am assuming she has hopeless child btw).

“I wanted to believe the past never happened” Butterfly motif and “water as rebirth” symbolism go brrr. 

“I’ve always been a selfish person, haven’t I?” Hu please, you’re really nice, even if you go overboard at times.

“I will share my secret if you promise to immediately move on.” (Paraphrased) Good idea. It would probably be good to talk about it if she wants, but this is kinda not the time.

“I have Veronika’s secret, and she has mine.” Okay I did NOT expect her to reveal she had Veronika’s, but alright! That’s two more on the board, and two more most of us got right! At least the theorists are doing well on the secrets.

[Veronika agreeing to the pact] Bro what pact, how did you communicate that? Also, “I have such little interest in both of our secrets” is wild, but it makes sense given her personality. Recap foils go brr, I’ll sit down and think about this later.

“My own so-called secret isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done.” Uh…??? It’s just bombshell after bombshell, these episodes!

Oh, we are questioning the pact. I kinda thought they’d managed to do that in the trial, now I’m really curious. Please tell me we aren’t gonna have to ignore that question because of what Hu asked of them.

Shit.

“We’re not gonna talk about me?” Oh, Vero, I would love for them to talk about you, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen.

“Arei– Achoo!” WHEN I TELL YOU I CACKLED LIKE A MADPERSON HOLY SHIT

“Bless me! Also, excuse me! Wow, thank you for your support everyone!” WAIT IT GOT FUNNIER.

“I have another interruption–” Either it just got even funnier or he’s about to reveal Teruko’s secret and shit got serious, let’s see.

Oh, right. But, dude, I’m relatively sure the last two unclaimed secrets can’t be hers. Maybe the survivor’s guilt one, even though that felt like Xander’s? Are you absolutely certain you don’t have her secret?

“My family.” Figured she’d try that one. [She probably feels it's true to some extent].

Oh, now THAT’S a David sprite alright. Pretty sure that settles it, the most common theories for secrets during hiatus were all correct.

I’m guessing David’s still not gonna reveal it. We still need to see a Teruko teacher CG, and I don’t think we’re gonna have time for that if he brings it up.

“We did it!” Yeah he ain’t revealing shit. 

“Sir Light Pollution” is actually crazy. Do his eyes really emit light like a flashlight? That’d be really fucking funny actually.

Oh, it was actually funny because Whit is a boyfailure. Alright, joke understood. I smiled.

“I am truly impressed… by how bad that was.” And there I laughed!

“I’ve started to detect this trial isn’t about me.” Iconic of you, Sir Attention Whore /affectionate

Thank you J.

Eden bro can we please let Teruko speak. Also you are not helping the culprit allegations miss Tobisa.

“What happened between you and Arei?” Jesus, we really cannot get to the fucking murder, huh? Fair, though, I’m really curious about this too, though I feel we’re gonna skip past it without an answer or David’s just not gonna respond seriously.

“I know that she’s dead and that she’s never coming back.” We’re getting worryingly close to your secret quote wording here, Eden. You sure you wanna go this route?

What are we, on seven “good person”s now?

Oh shit are we actually getting an answer?

YES! YES! YES! LET’S GO! I wasn’t expecting this!

Eight. Though I think this one’s repeated, though I might be wrong.

Yeah, this is old dialogue.

Man, Arei’s and Eden’s VAs did amazing work this episode!

“That makes me feel really relieved.” Lie. She didn’t say that. That’s my gut reaction, anyways, I could be wrong.

“I was pissed at you for a bit.” Oh shit chat David’s not getting cut off. This might actually be true. What the fuck?

Oh, also. Nine. David again.

“There’s not even anything positive…” Okay this hurts a fucking ton. If David’s lying, I want him dead. If this is true, holy shit this is sad.

“A metamorphosis like that…” Jeez this is actually getting sad sad. Auch.

“I’ll never be a good person.” Ten, and the tenth hurts a LOT. I don’t think David’s lying, members of the jury. Holy shit this is sad. 

“It turns out that you might be a total piece of shit…” Holy shit I miss Arei already.

Eleven.

“Like Santa Claus…” Didn’t Charles bring up something like that talking with Teruko in the computer room? Interesting connection. I guess not “all that glitters,” yeah.

“It’s okay that I’ll never be a good person, because no one else can be either.” Okay, first; twelve. Second, ouch.

[I know my commentary's not exactly thrilling. Forgive me, I'm suffering]

“Even Eden.” And what does that mean?

[Eden with blood on her hands CG]

…

HUH????????????????????????????????????????

I can’t- Words- Not working. Hold on, I gotta see what the fuck is happening here.

[Pan to fork]

I’M EVEN MORE CONFUSED THAN BEFORE! WHAT THE FUCK?!

It has four prongs, which matches the Xander one. Did Eden take out Xander’s eye? How in the actual fuck? No chance, right? I’m just going insane?

“I’m sure even Eden has hurt someone” (Paraphrased). Brain is still not working. Sorry.

“Even someone like her must have made a mistake she couldn’t take back” WE ARE GETTING DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO SECRET QUOTE WORDING!

We’re just moving on? That shit didn’t happen? I’m fucking sorry?

I can’t even- Does this imply fucking MM!Eden? I don’t think so, she doesn’t look like she wanted to- WAS it Xander she stabbed? Again, how? What? I’m so confused. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO US DEV! I NEED ANSWERS!!!

“Second ever friend…” Ouch ouch ouch-

Another “good people” btw.

[Arei CG] That’s the fucking- THAT LOOKS LIKE THE FUCKING GIRL FROM LGI?!?!?!

Like, obviously they look different, but that’s the same pose, with the hand and everything- WHAT?!

Is Arei/David a ship? It’ll probably be one after this. 

“Nothing-” You absolute piece of shit. Holy shit David, when I get my hands on you David…

“Nothing else happened between us, I promise.” Wow. Who would’ve thunk this is how I come to fucking despise a man so much while he simultaneously rises in my fave characters ranking, huh? Holy hell.

“One hundred percent promise-” I get more mad every line. That’s good character writing, folks. Jesus.

I can’t read Eden this episode. Still think she’s the culprit lol.

“Finally.” Yeah, Teruko. Same.

[By the way, the next section has a lot of me rambling about my own theories, so if you don't know them, here's a link to the latest, now likely outdated version]

“From that low of height…” I like where we’re going.

“I’m starting to realize how long it's taken to get here.” (Paraphrased) Yeah, Whit. Yeah.

“Some people had to wait one year and five months-” PFFFT- Also Whit’s reaction means he’s not fully fourth wall aware, which is cool.

NON-STOP DEBATE! LET’S DO IT! 

[Sees truth bullet] Yes! The jugs were used as weights! Tell me I’m right about this!

YEAH! I GOT IT RIGHT! Also Veronika’s “consent” animation is… uuh… very ‘Ronika if you catch my drift. I love it!

“Those jugs ended up breaking…” You know it! I wonder if maybe they didn’t have time to clean the fish? But they could have gotten water literally elsewhere, so they clearly did use them for alibi.

“The jugs alone aren’t enough…” (Paraphrased). Yeah, we gotta go higher. Like, the girders at the top…?

“... rafters on the ceiling.” Yeah!!! Wrong name but I also got this right!

“It must have been one long rope…” Or two, because you need the stopper.

“Oh, wait, you’re agreeing with me. Yes.” Funny, laughed.

“The rafters were way too high…” Ball of clothes, come on.

“...something like a pulley…” Yeah, Whit knows what I’m talking about! The fact he’s being helpful makes him less suspicious. Finally, he managed to open his mouth without incriminating himself of something!

“High location…” Are we actually doing stopper rope? My guess is that that’s when we’ll get teacher Teruko.

“In drop hanging…” Okay, first, love the monologue. Second, is there a reason you know so much about drop hanging? Did your mother…? I guess it’s not necessary. I also came to the same conclusions and I don’t have any history with the stuff. 

“We also know she didn’t hit the ground-” Does anyone have a counter of tasteless Whit jokes? Just checking.

“Aren’t I so smart…” And we’re back to kinda incriminating ourselves, because you're denying pulley method. Fantastic.

WOO! ANOTHER NON-STOP! Let me guess, “spinny thing” is the truth bullet?

“Tape on carousel.” Close enough. Although, hold on, are we actually gonna go “stopped with hands?” No chance, right?

Also am I stupid or does Arturo’s VA sound different in the debates?

Yeah btw Levi!Accomplice is dead and buried, I need to find other ways for Eden to have done this.

I like that Teruko still calls it a spinny thing :p

Wow, everyone’s correcting her, huh? I guess I’m the only one that appreciates her smh.

“...when I need to correct the killer’s grammar.” Funny comeback, but you know, the letter does actually have quite a few spelling errors.

Yay! Teacher Teruko! She looks so cute with glasses!

Also I cannot believe it. These Microsoft-Paint ass diagrams remind me of when I did them too lol.

Oh, shit, under the seesaw! That’s a good one, Teruko! I didn’t catch that. (Then again, I always thought the seesaw was in a different place, but oh well).

Is that dog ears Whit? My guy, you know Charles dislikes dogs, right? Then again, you do canonically have negative rizz, so :p

Oh, tying the rope! Not quite a stopper rope, but same concept. Yeah, would work. Good one Teruko!

“The carousel is made of smooth metal.” THAT’S WHAT THE TAPE WAS FOR! Clutch.

Oh shit, is the cliffhanger going to be the tape’s origin?

“I’ve seen this murder method before.” Okay, wait. One, no origin of tape. That’s big for Eden!Culprit: My current guess is that someone (ie Veronika) will want to discuss the Ace-Nico thing, which will lead to them discovering Eden took the tape. Two, what the fuck do you mean you’ve seen this before?!

“You have?” Looking kinda worried there, Eden…

“And so have you.” Okay am I forgetting something? Min’s execution wasn’t like this, what the hell…

“Me?” Eden, honey, the allegations…

“We’re going to talk about a different case…” Oh shit Teruko’s got the Ace method figured out? I would really love to hear that because I have no idea what the hell was happening with that one. Also, I called it! Didn’t expect it to be Teruko who brought us back to the Ace case, but still. 

“Explain yourself, Nico.” YEAH!!!! I’m actually really excited. I’m gonna look into revising my theory on that case before the next episode, see if I can figure it out, since I think the old methods I’ve discussed with others don’t quite line up with what Teru’s describing. 

What an episode!

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

General Thoughts:

Holy shit. Just. So much happened. It’s too much peak.

The Eden CG is the first thing on my mind; that’s crazy. Did she really take out Xander’s eye? I have zero idea what else I would be looking at. Certainly not MM!Eden, too obvious, but I don’t know what’s happening there. No fucking idea. I might make a more detailed post when I get my thoughts in order, but all I’m saying; the possibility the girl she kissed was Mai? That Mai told her about Teruko, and Eden attacked Xander in the pre-prologue killing game to protect Teruko? Hmm…

The secrets are huge, too. Nothing wild, given like 75% of the fandom had assumed these secrets anyways, but still nice to get them all. The Levi explanation was fascinating, but I don’t know what the fuck it has to do with the trial. Was it really a pointless aside? I don’t know…

The Arei scene was fucking insane even outside the Eden CG. Stabbed through the heart, haven’t felt that sad since Min’s death, and, yeah…

Not to mention, the fucking “Ideal Country Woman from LGI” looking ass frame. At least I finally got my answer; it was a wrist bend, not a glove. 

And David. David. Why are you like this. I genuinely can’t tell why he does anything anymore.

Finally, I love the Taylor mention, that’s insane. And Veronika has a darker secret? She really wants those MM allegations, huh? Jokes aside, I’m really curious about both those things. I kinda wonder if somehow the students will see the motive videos from Trial 1, since we’re hearing about Taylor and I’m hoping Alyssa later.

Just… Holy shit this episode was awesome. Cannot wait for next week.

First Impression Murder Theory Updates

It’s looking like Levi!Accomplice will end up being a nice AU and nothing more, although I’m not 100% ruling it out. That said, I’m still pretty confident in Eden!Culprit, especially with how we mentioned the tape on the spinny thing was easy to grip, but no one’s made the connection to the gym yet. 

The big thing to solve in the Arei case, then, is how Eden got the fish. There’s a few other accomplices she could have, but those are looking rough unless she somehow got Arei to do it. That said, I’m considering the possibility that she took the minnows ultra early, before Nico started feeding them. That would explain how they didn’t notice there were a few missing the night before; they just never counted the ones in the jugs in the first place. That has issues too, but I’ll see about it. 

That said, I’m pretty happy with myself! I got a lot of the major points of the pulley system right. The only thing is the “stopper rope vs tie a knot” thing, but the principle is similar enough. We’ll see about things like the ball of clothes to put the rope over the rafters. There’s still plenty of murder to discuss. 

As for the Ace case… It’ll need a full review later. If it’s supposed to be similar to Arei’s case, I really have no clue what the hell was happening there. Though I guess the ridiculous wire circuit I made might actually have some merit, given we're doing some kind of pulley?

... Maybe not :p

I have no further insight; I just need to look at it again.

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

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Watching this episode took me like two hours and a half while writing this… this almost 4k word post… so… yeah. Gods save me if there actually is an hour long episode left. See ya’!

[thewertsearch]

TT: It reminds me of when Dave and I were trapped in the doomed timeline, and he left to change the past. TT: The timeline ceased to exist, along with my dream self, who in a way became merged with my dream self of this timeline. I kept some of her memories. TT: Is the situation similar? Similar, but more severe. Since this timeline will undergo such a violent upheaval, such a merger of memory cannot happen.

Unlike Future Rose, we're not merely fleeing a doomed timeline - we're resetting the timeline, the real deal.

If you squint, it kind of looks like the Davesprite situation, but the rules are completely different. This isn't a rewind, it's a reboot, complete with entirely new incarnations of John, Rose, Dave and Jade.

It doesn't sound like the original Players are supposed to survive the process - but if you pay attention to Scratch's phrasing, he doesn't actually confirm that it's impossible. He asserts that this type of memory preservation is impossible, but that doesn't mean there's no way for the kids to reach the reboot. I strongly believe that our endgame here will feature both iterations of the kids, allowing us to develop their personalities from two completely different angles.

I'd love to speculate about what Scratched!John and his team will be like, but I don't want another theory that's dead on-arrival. Let's wait and see if Rose learns anything more about the reboot first.

TT: So if the Scratch isn't specifically meant to banish Jack from the session, TT: And our quest to destroy the sun is meant to kill him, TT: Why is the reset necessary at all, especially if it means oblivion for us? Because you cannot achieve the ultimate reward in this session. […] Don't you want to fulfill your purpose?

Whether they should actually want to make a universe isn’t exactly a trivial question. Rose is a little too emotionally compromised to consider it, but I’m not.

For starters, what if their universe is an awful place? Alternia is proof that Sburb's universes can be complete dystopias. We have no idea if Alternia's creators intended for the Empire to exist, but the fact that it's even possible should make any Sburb Player very, very nervous about releasing a new Genesis Frog into the cosmos, lest it become another host for an intergalactic empire.

I suppose the question is kind of moot. The kids still need somewhere to live after the session, and I doubt their own universe is still an option. Their planet certainly isn’t.

[…] if you are inventive, you may find a way to survive the reset and participate in the renewed session. It's up to you.

...hmm.

Do you think the effects of the Scratch extend into the Furthest Ring? Surely not, right? Surely they're localized to the session in which the Scratch was triggered, lest a Scratch reset the entire multiverse.

Could it really be that easy? I guess it would normally be dangerous to enter the domain of the Gods unprotected, but Feferi's alliance should keep them safe. Plus, Rose has an accord with them herself. This feels workable to me - provided the Gods are willing to let our heroes influence the reboot.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Greetings! I have assumed that because you're Welsh you must be able to sing. Am I right, or is this an unfair stereotype of your people? (Love your blog btw)

WELL. Yes. I can. No comment on the stereotypicality, but it's certainly true that group singing is a big cultural thing, particularly among Welsh speakers.

Uh, that said, I have the lowest voice of any cis woman I've ever met or seen. Zero songs are written for my vocal range. I dream of the day I find another so we can bond OR I can finally sing something with my vocal chords and gender in mind. If you're musically inclined at all for this to make sense to you, my comfortable range is B2 - C5, which means I can encompass all of tenor, a chunk of baritone in the low end, and not quite all of alto in the high end. The closest I've ever come to finding a female singer with a similar reach is Madeline in The Amazing Devil, who hits low notes even I struggle with in That Unwanted Animal; but she can go much higher than me (and is certainly more comfortable in a higher range than me), so she's just a vocal prodigy. Every choir teacher I've ever had has confidently told me "Plenty of famous singers are altos, you're not alone!" And I'm like "That would be useful, Beryl, but I'm not an alto and they all sing higher than me."

Thinking about it, though - this is entirely anecdotal and not backed up by any actual statistics - I have consistently found over the years that Welsh voices tend towards the lower end. I'm thinking back to the choir I was in in Aberystwyth, the Elizabethan Madrigal Singers. It was a student choir, so there was a mix of nationalities but mostly Welsh and English. I remember at one point the conductor stopped us on one song and made us sing one of the phrases, section by section from the basses up. The point he was making was about our pronunciation of the word 'castle'.

"Listen to that!" he laughed. "You all need to pronounce that 'a' the same way, and this is a formal piece, it needs to be long. It's "Cahstle", not "cassle". Look how only the sopranos are doing it right!"

And one of the basses looked along the line and went "Rob... that's because they're English."

And we realised that every bass and all but one alto was Welsh; two thirds of the tenors and every single soprano was English. The higher the voices went, the fewer Welsh people were present.

(Shout out to Rob, very quickly - he was an English tenor, but on reaching Aberystwyth University he'd learned a smattering of Welsh as best he could and joined the Welsh language choir as well as the Mads to practice it. He was affectionately known as 'Rob Sais' in honour of this respect. Really nice guy. I believe he's an engineer now.)

But yeah, that's a trend I have noticed over the years in other places, too. No idea how universal that is vs just my own observations in my own bubble, but there we are

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Spider-Woman, NOT Ghost-Spider

This is a tip for people who want to go as canon as possible WITH THE MOVIES, since I feel a lot of people do this mistake because they look into the comics and mix things up.

If you want to call Gwen, Ghost-Spider in your fanfic/fanart/etc because you think is cool, go ahead! Go nuts! I'm not the canon police.

BUT-

In the movies, Gwen still calls herself Spider-Woman.

An explanation as to why this is important in the read more.

(Spoilers about the Spider-Gwen comics, I guess because I am not spoiling anything that came after 2019.)

When I say "important," I mean it in the stick-it-to-the-details type of deal; if you care about technicalities you care about this, but I know that's not the majority.

However, I do want to bring it up because the reason why Gwen switched in the comics, or rather, why chose Ghost-Spider of all things- is really neat and interesting story line that I feel a lot of people skip over when they 'chose' to call her that without knowing why she chose that name.

If you think Gwen has it rough in the movies, don't read the comics because they put this girl through the wringer.

Let's go a little bit before she chose that name.

As you can see, Gwen feels that she has always been marked by death, some way or another.

First her mother, then Peter, and is now hitting pretty hard after losing Spider-UK (is not Hobie, or Malala, I don't think he has appeared in the movies,) Noir and Karn, though arguably Billy was the one who hit her the hardest.

She went to other dimensions to tell their love ones that Billy and Noir passed away; it is implied how this is her way to try to make amends to what happened, make peace with herself.

But is not really enough, the topic doesn't leave her mind,

Death and pain certainly follow her often; she almost lost her dad for good, and she was definitely shaken after Harry got gravely injured precisely because he was always there for her.

That last panel never stops hitting hard for me.

There is just some quietness to it, about how no matter what she does, how hard she tried, Death continues to follow, one way or another. Even when she tries to be a hero, to do the right thing, death follows her.

In the comics, Gwen switches her name because she is studying in Earth-616 rather than her own dimension, so she switches names in order to avoid stepping in any toes.

So, in the movies, is kind of hard to think the switch would happen. Sure, Gwen is interacting with Jessica and other spiders, but believe me, the multiple spider-man haven't changed their names, so having Jessica in the spider society doesn't change much.

However, I do bring all of this because I think implementing this story line in the movies not only is feasible, it would be *amazing.*

The phrase "Death loves Gwen Stacy," not only hits hard for the Spider-Gwen in the comics, but for the movie counterpart too.

Think about it for a second; in the movies, Gwen feels she can't have friends because otherwise, they may lose them like Peter, she has convinced herself it can't work. And then. she goes to the Spider-Society.

And now she feels Gwen Stacy and Death always go hand in hand.

She learns how in so many universes, Peter is the one bitten, he is the one who lives, while Gwen Stacy dies, over, and over again. It almost seems like she is the outlier out of spite, how because she gets to live, everyone else pays the price.

Because Death loves Gwen Stacy, powers or not, that's not changing.

But at the end of the day-

And that's why, no matter what, she will continue fighting to protect her people.

[colectingstrz]

INCOMPATIBLE HARMONY

⤿ a beautiful passion of hatred driving a narrow pathway for foreign emotions and surging familiar ones.

𐙚 g: enimes to lovers, university au, fluff here and there, angst. wc: 10.6k w: one kiss and mentions of a parent passing p: Jay x f reader

𐙚 - like 70% proof read it’s so long I tried 😪

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ

Your mother always said, “Either kill or be killed,” and you regrettably learned the hard way. Life is not easy, and it never will be. You must work for your goals and eliminate any potential distractions, even if they are those you care about. Everything that matters is success. Yet with more independence and freedom of choice u start to crack a little straying further and further away from the motto showing weakness and vulnerability. Success no longer being your priority as you found your focus on a particular someone.

you certainly would not mind eliminating a specific individual , a pest.. a loud, foul mouthed, vile, obnoxious, beastly, filthy inconvenience such as park.

It's not surprising to hear Jay harbours the same feelings as you; it's almost romantic when you think about it. Two people with a passionate desire hatred for one another.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

Unfortunately, your Monday became more dreary when you met him waiting outside your professor's door, whom you had intended to meet.

“What are you doing here” Jay ignored you and continued typing stuff on his phone. The sound of his fingers aggressively tapping on his screen bothered you. “Hello? You know it's rude to ignore somebody while they're addressing you.”

Finally, he raises his deep, dismal eyes to meet yours. “I'm so sorry your majesty I didn't like your tone” he said with a grin “what's wrong with my tone? this is how I always talk why are your..so dramatic” You crossed your arms, your tolerance dwindling as you endured this discourse.

“No... today your tone seems more boooorish” you raised an eyebrow at his strange choice of words; you had no understanding what he had just said, which irritated you even more. You despised the way he used sophisticated vocabulary as if he were from 1985. “Do you want to purposefully mislead me? What do you think because you use fancy phrases, you're better than me, you antiquated freak”

Jay grinned. You despised it when he smiled because it felt like he was mocking you, it made you feel little, and you despised every moment of it. “Intentionally yes I'm glad to see it's working it brings me joy to see u distressed-and confused when I mess with ur little narrow minded brain maybe if u spent ur time reading rather than selling ur self out at party's every weekend you would actually know what im saying half the time”

You close your eyes sighing loudly as you try to compose your anger. He was wrong so wrong

Jay smirked as he recognised he had won. Picking up his bag, he approaches you and gently pats over your shoulder, “What's wrong? Can't bite back? Better luck next time, love.” Before you could respond, he walks away, descending down the corridor, leaving you to throw an internal fit as you accept your defeat.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

“Are you coming to Jake's party tonight? It's at his beach mansion” you shrug as you begin to gather your belongings from your desk. “I'm not sure... with this approaching test, I need time to study.” Yujin rolls her eyes, grasping your arm in a plea “Pleaaaaaaaaaaseeee I don't wanna go by myself it's just one party it's not going to ruin your perfect 4.0 GDA!” you lightly break free from her grasp, “correction it's GPA.. and stop clinging onto me like a leech I know damm well u have plenty of other friends if I don't come it's not the end of the world” She groans.

“What if it is the end of the world! your my best freind I want to go with you w..what if I pass out ?? What if I.. uh.. get lost” she blurs out nonsense and you watch in disbelief shaking your head, preparing to turn and leave.

“Park Sunghoon is comming by the way”

You come to a halt in your tracks, slowly turning around. “Really?..Are you saying that only to get me to co- “yes! Really, he's back from France now; there's no way he'll miss Jake's party.” You sigh deeply, pondering whether a single male who is cute is more essential than your future. “I'll think about it.” Yujin smiles, grabbing you in an embrace and showering you with thank yous as if you answered yes (deep down you know it was a yes as well), before she swiftly leaves for her next class.

What you felt for Sunghoon was like a disease, slowly devouring you from the inside out. You've been pinning for him since your first year of university, and you thought it was just a crush until it wasn't. Now, a year later, your feelings have grown stronger. You would do anything to be in the same space as him-not to talk just to admire from afar You were a woman of many words, but in this instance, Sunghoon was different. It's as if you lost the basic mechanics of communication when talking to him; it's too embarrassing to go through again, so you avoid it at all costs and prefer to admire his features . Even in group setting with your friends you keep your conversations to a minimum.

And, of course, evil forces decided to flirt with and entice you once more by bringing not just Sunghoon but also his pest of a friend Jay into your presence as you make your way down the hall to your next class.

“Oh hey y/n it's been a while” Sunghoon smiles as he embraces you cheerfully. “Oh..h..hi umm how was France and the skating Ice- um, I mean ice skating,” you mentally leaped in front of a bus and ran yourself over 76 times because of the idiotic mistake you just made in front of him. “The ice skating competition was good I should hear back in about a week if I've qualified for the semi finals how have you been?” He looks at you intently and quietly, waiting for your response, while Jay silently notes every element of your expression. Both of their stares made you feel little uneasy, as if you were a vase on display in a museum, attracting a lot of attention. You felt your palms start to sweat.

“That's great to hear! Um.. I've been alright just p..preparing for exams right now.” You give him a constant smile, attempting to distract him from your inability to pronounce a simple basic ass word. “Yikes, midterms.. Hope you do well-Oh! Are you going to Jake's party? Or are you going to study? Parties weren't always your thing” Just as you open your mouth to speak, a rat joins in on the conversation despite the fact that he was not invited.

“Sunghoon it seems you've been gone a while she loves parties I see her at them all with that yujin girl I'm sure she won't miss this one will you y/n?” You glare at Jay, directing your focus to him, and imagine all the horrible ways you would torture him for ruining a moment with your crush. “I'm sure she can speak for herself, and trust me, Jay y/n is not a party girl... well, I have a class to go to, so maybe I'll see you at the party,” he smiles one final time before walking away, leaving you and Jay in solitude.

“Do you lack basic manners? Why are you entering into a conversation that has nothing to do with you? He was talking to meeee the last time I checked, and your not y/n.”He shrugged, “My manners are perfect, thank you very much, and I'm open to adding my two cents wherever I want to; all I did was state the facts.” You roll your eyes and reposition your back to hang over your shoulder.

“Facts? Stop acting like you know me Jay, you don't. You're not my friend, you're not my anything. Stay out of my business and my life.” You leave him as quickly as you spoke, bumping your shoulder against his as you storm down the hall.

Something you said right then must have touched a chord, since Jay's mood plummeted for the rest of the day.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

Parties are just mobs of people, the perfect place for germs to hibernate and circulate like wildfire, with loud music that bursts your eardrums, piles of sweaty bodies, and excessive amounts of alcohol. You don't see what Yujin sees in this type of activity, but the show must go on, and it's too late to back out now.

Deeper within the mashion are Jay, Jake Sunghoon, and Jungwon, who are playing pool round after round. “Sunghoon, did you find any hot French girls or what?”Jake asks, peeking over to see Sunghoon as he effortlessly knocks down two of his targets into the hole. “Ice skating pre occupied me.. plus I still like her”

Now that Jay has disconnected from his talk with Jungwon, his ears immediately peek up at the sound of Sunghoon's crush, and he listens in curiously. He rarely discusses such topics, especially after his heartache with his ex Chaewon.

“Her? Omg bro it’s been monthhhhs” sunghoon sighs “I know.. but she’s just really pretty and kind I really want to get to know her more this year” Jake laughs placing a hand on his chest “ get to know her? Last year you barely held a conversation with the girl u need to work on your game if u wanna bag a girl like y/n”

Jay lifts his brow in disbelief and confusion. Sunghoon liked you. Considering the millions of girls he could have picked. Jay was completely baffled. Great distress surged over him. He became so outraged that he could no longer bear to listen to the discourse. Jay turns to the pool table, leaving a perplexed Jungwon in the middle of his sentence.

“Do you like y/n? Really, dude? Raise your standards.” Jake's mouth drops agape at his comment, and Sunghoon crosses his arms. “Yeah, I like her, and what about it? I think She's a great girl, what's it to you?” Sunghoon now turns to Jay, looking him down. The mood in the room shifts, and Jungwon, who is watching from a distance, becomes anxious about what is going on.

“It's nothing to do with me I'm just looking out for you as a freind she's not a good person” Sunghoon doesn't say anything for a time and simply stares at Jay. “Maybe u haven't had a good experience with her.. that's your opinion but I've had good with her and I'll stick to my opinion thanks for the concern bro” Sunghoon turns, grabs his drink, and leaves the room.

Jay gulped, grabbing the edge of the pool table firmly in rage. How could Sunghoon not realise what an awful person you were? All he wanted was to look out for him. Again, everything is always your fault. Jay groans as he steps outdoors, leaving the manshion.

He walks outdoors on the sidewalk, trailing his feet. He stares ahead to the shore, watching the clam ripples of water. He groans and walks on, but he comes to a halt when he notices you coaching against the wall with your head down.

He immediately becomes enraged again; it was your fault he was out here, and it was your reason he got into a fight with Sunghoon. He comes up to you talking this opportunity to throw a dig “so much for not being a party girl look at you here all drunk and wasted outside on the floor no self composure what so ever”

He waits, but your witty retort never arrives. He lifts his brow lightly, bending down to shove you, but is met once more with the presence of stillness. Jay feels an awful discomfort in his gut. He bends down to get a closer look, only to find your eyes closed and your hand grasping your chest while you breathe extensively.

“Y/n?… Hey y/n” he holds your shoulder trying to urge a response. “t..to many..” he moves his head closer angling his ear towards you “repeat that for me” you muster all the strength in your body to speak “c..claustrophobic..I’m..clau..” Jay hums in realisation.

He thinks quickly on his feet sitting down on the concrete, reaching for your hand and replacing the one on your chest with his own. “Listen to me right now. I need you to breathe in and out slowly, with 3 seconds in between, okay? Can u do that for me” you weakly nod, obeying his directions.

Each time you did, he would lightly sweeze your hand in encouragement, giving you reassuring “well done’s”and “your getting there's” the whole affair felt strange to you. He was really pleasant, calm, patient, and caring towards you. It was rare for Jay this came out of nowhere, but you didn't question it and accepted it with open arms because you needed it.

Shortly after you find your self calm. But the lingering feeling of jays eyes on you as the two of you sit in silence was uncomfortable. You find your self subconsciously looking down to your feet playing with your fingers. “So.. your claustrophobic I never knew that” you shrug still looking down “well yeah.. it’s not a big deal anyways” he hummus “seems like a pretty big deal if it weren’t for me you would have passed out”

You roll your eyes “no I would have been fine this isn’t the first time I topically do this alone no assistance needed park” Jay humms again his hand reaching to cup your chin forcing you to raise your head and look at him. You were shocked at the sudden contact and the way his hand felt so warm againt your cold skin. “Well..um are you okay now looking at your face you seem it” he then used his hand to turn your head slightly as he analyses your face. “I’m..I’m fine thank you”

A tingly feeling perks within him but he shuts it down nodding removing his hand from your skin. The absence of warmth had you feeling cold again but you brushed it off. Jay suddenly stands up dusting dirt off his back and reaches out his hand to you “come I’ll drive you home I’m assuming you woukd rather not go back in there” he raises a brow you nod hesitantly accepting his hand as he wraps it around your firmly.

“My car is about a 10 min walk are u fine with that? Well doesn’t matter if ur not we still have to walk regardless just letting you know anyway” you laugh a little feeling the sense of familiarity again this was more like jay. More like the jay you knew more like the jay you were used too. Yet that feeling in your stomach didn’t leave.

“Don’t do this again” you raise a brow “pardon?” Jay turns to you “going out in the dark at night in some alley by yourself something easily could have happened to you and no one would be there to save you” you roll your eyes “I know u don’t actually care about what happens to me stop acting like you do plus.. I was close to the beach house I would have been fine” jay sighs shaking his head “belive it all not im not a horrible human being your a girl and that make sure automatically vulnerable alone at night im just warning you love”

You humm “just save me next time then” you finnaly turn to look at him awaiting his reaction as he silently looks at you not saying a word. You quickly look away now feeling awkward regretting your exsistnce.

“Pay me I’m not playing superman for free”

Now at the car it’s mostly silent but a comfortable silence never in your life would you think you would be in jays car having him drive you to your dorm but life is full of surprises isn’t it. Soon you arrive home giving him a Short and firm bye before heading to your door.

Little to your knowledge even once you have entered your dorm Jay remains in his car watching you until he sees the lights shine in ur room confirming you have settled.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

Studying was supposed to be peaceful and quiet, but all of that was disrupted the moment you invited Jake to join you.

You wouldn't call him a nuisance, but he was more distracting than anything else. Every 4 minutes, he'd start chatting about strange stuff, and when he wasn't talking, he'd be toying with your hair or poking your check unless he was performing some random asmr with his pen. Sometimes you wish you could just duct wrap his mouth so he would stop talking.

“Jake... please I'm really trying to focus here you know I have an exam soon” he looks down as if you had just rejected or something it made you feel a little bad “Fine.. if you want me gone just say that!” He crosses his arms and looks away, and you sigh, rubbing his shoulder, “It's not that it’s just you talk too much, I need quiet... on second thought yeah, leave, we can hang out later.” You sigh and Jake's mouth opens wide at your unexpected change of direction, huffing silently as he turns to go.

Peace and quiet has made a comeback

You smile to yourself as you study, but as usual, your tranquilly is short-lived when you hear the loud smack of a book beside you. Looking up, there's no one but jay. You raise a curious eyebrow; hardly one visits this section of the library unless a friend tags along, and you've never seen Jay here.

“What brings you here you don't come here this is my space” Jay ignores you, bringing out his laptop, iPad, and any extra papers. “I've come here to study obviously your not the only one who has exams here and last time I checked your name isn't plastered anywhere here so this is everyone's space,” he smiles and returns to getting his stuff.

You groan, your gaze returning to your laptop to drown him out and remain focused. However, that was difficult to do given how fiercely he was looking at you.

“Um, is there a reason why you keep looking at me like that? It makes me uncomfortable.” Jay's eyes stay hanging on yours. “Looking at you? what is it a crime to look at another human being? Arrest me.” He rolls his eyes. You shake your head, closing your laptop and giving him your entire attention.

“Your looking at me like ur going to eat me alive I don't like it please direct your eyes Literally anywhere else” Jay chuckles, moving his head closer to the point your noses would almost just almost connect . “Maybe I should eat you so I don't have to hear your nagging every day. I'll devour you whole nice and slow..how does that sound?”

Unbeknownst to you, a flush rushed across your ears, to which Jay saw with a wide grin. “That's!..that's really inappropriate, Jay. You can't just say things like that to a woman.” He tilts his head, leaning closer. His hot breath stimulating your exposed skin.

“I didn't mean it in that way get your head out of the gutter you.. naughty girl tsk” he paused for a second before starting again “plus I don't really see you as a woman” you raise a brow in disbelief and offence.

“So you’re gay?”

He then abruptly moved back. “Gay? Don't make such a misleading statement; I'm really attracted to women.” You smile slightly, seeing this as an opportunity to twist him even further. “But if you do not view me as a woman, you must see me as a man? And you want to devour this man whole, don't you? Nice and slow Don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” you giggle, covering your mouth from laughing so hard as you watched the dread drown out his face, which turned pale.

“Shut up you’re always so loud and wrong you really think I like men?” You nod “this conversation is proof right here of the Jay is gay statement” Jay places his fingers gently squeezing his temple in vexation. He didn’t appreciate being accused of liking men when he clearly is straight and didn’t like that it was you out of all people.

But

Suddenly he felt the need-the urge to prove it to you he wanted to show you just how wrong you were he wanted to put you in your place and shut you up. So he did just that

Jay leans over in a matter of seconds, one hand behind your neck, the other yanking on your lanyard, forcing tight proximity as he slams his lips against yours. If someone walked in right now, they wouldn't believe their eyes. You didn’t belive it yourself.

His lips brushed against yours, softly and carefully, like you were fragile and he was scared to shatter or harm you. His lips graced yours like butterfly wings, just long enough for him to inhale your breath, feeling the warmth of your skin in his palm as he pulled you in deeper, and the flavour of your strawberry lipgloss lingered in his head, driving him insane.

As soon as it started it quickly ended as you somehow snapped back into reality and roughly pushed him for you. Not wanting to meet his gaze you turn hastily packing your things and leaving as quickly as possible. Leaving a stunned and confused Jay alone in the library.

You slide your back down the wall of an empty corridor, like a dramatic main lead In a teenage drama attempting to regain your calm and gain a grasp of what happened just a few seconds earlier. Were you crazy--or was he crazy? Why did he kiss you, and why was it so long? Most importantly, why did you like it? You loved it You smacked yourself to recover your focus. Choosing to disregard this portion of the day as if it never occurred so that you can sleep soundly tonight.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

After ten minutes of overthinking your life choices in the lounge area, the bell rings for lunch. You grab your phone and text Yunjin to come meet you as soon as possible. She soon appears and sits next to you. You had intentions of telling her but you couldn’t bring yourself too

“What's so urgent that you nee- you having a bad makeup day?” You lift your eyebrow “What?” “My makeup is fine, what do you mean?" she shakes her head, pointing to your lips. “Not your entire makeup, just your lip makeup, it's all smudged.” Flickers of the kiss swarm in your thoughts, making you nauseous.

You quickly get out your mirror attempting to fix it.

“Jay can I ask you something?” Jay nods as he takes a bite out of his sandwich “you smell unusual today” Jay raises an eyebrow, causing Jungwon and Sunghoon to focus on Jake's words: “Yeah, I noticed you smelled kinda fruity today, like... starberries” Jungwon continues, causing Jake to nod in agreement, “I don't smell like that; you're probably smelling something else.”

Unknowingly, while Jay continued to eat, seemingly a little concerned by the claims, Sunghoon discreetly watched Jay, his gaze fixed on the faint hint of lipgloss on his lips.

“Oh my gosh... look at his lips, there's lipgloss. You must have had some action before lunchtime,” Jake wriggles his brows, elbowing Jay. He gulps uneasily, caressing his lip and instantly recalling what he had done; he closes his eyes in regret. “Unless…ur gay? Or something I don’t discriminate ” Jake patted his shoulder

“I knew it I knew u were gay” jay now shoots his head up at that voice your voice as you and yunjin approach his table. You and yunjin were freinds with the rest of jays freinds and sometimes would eat with them though yunjin would limit interactions with jay as by her words “any enemy of my friends is an enemy of mine”

“Jay is gay?” Sunghoon laughs and finally joins the conversation, “Jay and gay, that rhymes!” Jake yelled earning some looks directed at your table Jay simply scowls, “Shut up, both of you.” Jay stands up and grabs his bag and sandwich before leaving. You sighed with relief as he went; sitting directly opposite him seemed wired after what had happened.

It appears that both of you failed to sleep well that night, so you spent it studying to pass the time, while Jay spent it twisting and turning in his bed, extremely upset and ashamed by his irresponsible behaviour. He wishes he could go back in time and prevent it from ever happening.

However, the burning sensation in his chest could not be ignored, and the taste of your strawberry lipgloss lingered on his tongue. He closed his eyes, remembering the taste and feel of your soft lips on his.

The next day was difficult, primarily because you had a council meeting, and of course the vice president had to be Jay, and you the head sadly had a private meeting every 15th, which left you two sitting in an office in silence

“Sooooo..” You spoke but no other words left your lips “should we reschedule this meeting at this rate we will make no progress if you can't even look me in the eye” you grimace a little

“Maybe if a certain somone didn’t just pull up and force themselves onto me I could look them in the eye” you whisper slightly folding your arms turning away. “Force? I didn’t force myself onto you it was mutual” you raise a brow “was it how?”

“You kissed me back and even added your tongue a little; you were clearly into it and wanted it- “shut up please” you placed your fingers on his lips, shushing him before he could humiliate you any further. “Can we change the subject I’m begging” Jay wanted to say more, but judging by your tone and look, he held back.

“Sorry” now, for the first time since this meeting began, you choose to look him in the eye “it was wrong of my to just kiss you out of nowhere I didn't respect your boundaries and I apologise” stunned, you remained silent for a moment before answering “thank you Jay” you smile a little for a split second before it fades away, not wanting to smile for too long because it's Jay after all.

He nods “can we like.. forget this ever happened” you don’t know what it is that you felt then but it was unsettling. You gulped it down agreeing with jays words. “Then let’s start this meeting then”

After a long 30-minute meeting, you and Jay split ways. You go to the library again because you have some free time and run into Sunghoon along the way. You consider many options for running. It's too late; he's already noticed you and invited you to come over.

“hi Sunghoon,” he smiles, waving, “hi y/n, so... do you have any free time right now?” You said, with a nod, “wanna come watch me practise at the rink?” You nodded again, but this time with too much enthusiasm, like a dog. You were embarrassed, but it was difficult to contain your excitement.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

It was chilly. Fortunately, Sunghoon, being the gentleman he is, offered you his puffer, and even though you declined it 15 times, he insisted on forcing you to put it on and zipping you up. The attention in this situation felt good.

You stared in admiration as he skated; he was truly in his element, doing what he does best. You were captivated by how beautifully he swirled and twirled. You hoped you could watch him every day if your schedule wasn't so busy. Interrupting your little display, Yujin texted you.

Yapper: me and the guys are comming over the the rink to ice skate do you wanna come with?

Me: I’m already there? I’m watching Sunghoon practice :)))

Yapper : ARE U LOT ON A ICEY SKATEY DATE? ARE WE INTERRUPTING

Me: NO. He just asked since I also had a free you guys can still come it would be fun I’ll let Sunghoon know

Yapper: if you say so 👀 and btw your bestie is comming

Me: shut up you know dam well he’s not my “bestie” call him that again and I’ll block you

Calling out to Sunghoon, you step down and stand at the edge so he can hear you. “The others are coming down to skate by the way." Sunghoon nods. “Is Jay coming?” You're confused as this was such an unusual and precise inquiry to ask; he should just assume he's coming. You wanted to question further.

“Why are you asking? Is there a reason he shouldn't come?" Sunghoon hastily shakes his head, “I was only wondering—“why? Did something happen?” Sunghoon shakes his head again, “no, I just want to know that's all,” you humm, not believing a word he says. It's times like these that your psychology major comes in handy it was obvious he was lying to you. “Jay is coming”

Soon after they arrived, as you had previously briefed Sunghoon, he prepared and distributed everyone's skates. Jake eagerly put on his skates, excited and ready to go and followed Sunghoon towards the rink. Even when Jungwon and Yujin joined, you still struggled to put on your left shoe.

You attempted to fit your foot in again but failed. You were ready to give up and just watch instead.

“Are you gonna cry over an ice skate?” He teased triggering your frown “No!..this is just really hard” you turn back and try to put it back on for the fifth time. Jay rises up and crouches down in front of you, keeping the shoe in place.

“What are you—“helping I'm helping you, dumbass I'm holding the shoe in place so you can put your foot in, go on.” You comply, pushing your foot in with ease. Before you could reach down to tie the lace, Jay beats you to it, tapping your foot lightly once he's finished. “Thanks” Jay hummed as he turned to leave. Realisation came over you immediately, and you grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Wait, I don't think I can walk on my own. Just help me to the entrance” Jay grumbled, carrying your body up with ease.

“I'll just hold your hand the whole way and bring you to Yujin alright” you agreed, and he now held your hand in his, and you felt the warmth again, just like that night. You didn’t want to let go. Though from afar a pair of flaming eyes watched the scene unfold

“Come on Sunghoon I'm showing you my spin!” Jake yelled as he dragged Sunghoon's arm, diverting his attention. Despite this, Sunghoon cast glances at you and Jay as you entered the rink hand in hand, like some corny couple, and clinched his teeth in anger.

“This is so scary!” Jay glances at you, “You haven't done this before?” You shake your head. “No... this is all new to me, which is why I couldn't do my other shoe properly.” Jay now turns to you, putting your other hand in his. “Do you want me to show you something? I won't let go; don't worry, I'm not the evil creature you see me to be” his comment makes you chuckle “you sooo are if there wasn't any witness I'm so confident you would let go and leave me to fall” Jay rolls his eyes and begins to skate backwards slowly. “w..woah there What are you doing!? What if you bumb into someone! And then boom I fall have an accident and crack my head open and blee-“shh..clam down love im a pro.. I know exactly what im doing now watch and learn newbie”

Jay effortlessly glides backwards, occasionally whirling the two of you in a circle, abruptly changing from fast to slow and slow to fast. It made you a little disoriented, but it was entertaining. Soon, your freinds took notice.

“ I never thought I would see jay and y/n that close to eacother with out any violence involved” jungwon said with a smile “same.. when i look at them now it's kinda cute don't you think ?” Yujin seems complexly clueless of Sunghoon's crush on you: “uh.. nahh, I don't see it”Jake rushes in and shuts off that particular issue, mindful of Sunghoon's facial expression. Jake quickly skates towards the two of you and splits you up.

“Hey guysss y/n I wanna show u somthing come” Jake takes your hands, replacing Jay's warm ones with his chilly ones and yanking you away from him. You felt empty again, and you weren't sure why.

After approximately an hour of ceaseless skating, the others left for ice cream, but you, Jay, and Sunghoon decided to go to study. It felt odd walking back to campus; you could sense the tension, as if you knew something had happened and wanted to know more.

Before u had the chance to bring it up Sunghoon departed calming “something came up” leaving you and Jay alone. It was silent but a comfortable silence you kept talking glances at Jay really only because he kept talking glances at you he seemed he wanted to say somthimg so you gave him the green light

“I know u have something to say don’t be a pussy” Jay chocked on air at the sudden directness “well.. if you say so then please just here here me out when I say this but I really need something form you it’s kinda last minute but your the only option I have” You nodd urging him to talk “my mom is hosting one of her business events but during it she wants to set me up with a daughter of one of her brand partners but shes..she’s I can’t stand her really and..I was wondering-hoping actually if you can step in just for tonight as my temporary date so my mom doesn’t set me with her…??” Jay closes his eyes expecting the worst yet you say nothing he opens your eyes to observe you

Your countenance gradually changes, and you burst out laughing, “Jay, I never took you for the funny type, oh my..” Jay doesn't find any of this funny and frowns “I'm being serious y/n” you glance at him and your face slowly lowers as you realise he is genuinely serious “ well first of all, I don't wanna be dragged into y'all's rich people drama before they assassinate me in my sleep or some shit” Jay throws his hands in the air “no!..no this is real life not some tv show bs your overthinking this nothing bad is going to happen its just one night stop being dramatic!”

“I am not finished. Second, you don't really like me, and I don't really like you, so it makes no sense that we act like a couple. Third, I'm sure someone else would be better for this... you're not all that dumb, so no way I'm a contender.” Jay sighs, recognising that convincing you will be more difficult than he expected. He lays his hands on both shoulders and shoots you with an expression of great desperation.

“I can't ask anyone else; it's this night, and I'm running out of time. You're the only person I think can handle or tolerate my mother. I really need this, please. I'll do everything, give you anything, just do me this one favour.” You place your finger on your chin and tap it, trying to prolong this moment enjoying every second of jays expression. You glance into his yearning stare. “Hmm, I don't know..” Jay holds your shoulder more tightly than previously. “Please y/n you owe me I've helped you 2 times now this is the least you can do for me” you let out a sigh giving in “sure give me 50k” Jay opens his mouth in surprise at the outrageous quantity.

“Oh that’s not..” you sigh “you said anything this classifies as anything your rich aren’t you? You’re basically a walking bank! this should be nothinggg” Jay sighs “fine..but only after you have gone I’ll send it to you understood” you nod “if this is what its like to have a sugar daddy..then I’ll gladly come to every event can you imagine? 50k per event I might as well drop out of uni and start travelling the world” Jay chuckles at your imagination he found you amusing.

“I think I'm a bit young to be a sugar daddy plus I would never willingly wanna spoil a brat like you someone like you needs discipline” your smile dimes kissing your teeth you pinch his arm earning a groan

“What makes you think I want you to be my sugar daddy!? I'm not a brat, and I don't deserve to be disciplined at all, especially by someone like you. Take your own advice.” Jay hums, “You want to discipline me? Didn’t know you were into that” He smirked, leading you to glance away. “Why are you saying it that way!..You're so weird Jay, this is why you don't get any girls because you're a fucking creep.” He laughs, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

“yet your going to a fancy event with this creep tonight aren’t you?”

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

Another thing you didn't expect was Jay to be in your dorm room, just you and him. Jay had bursted in pushing some bags into your chest.

“What's this?” He rolls his eyes. “Are you blind?” It's obviously shopping bags full of clothes and shoes. Use your common sense...anyway, I chose this outfit out for you, so go and wear it; the party is in an hour.” You grumble in irritation, going to the bathroom to change.

You would have preferred that instead of parting ways after the conversation, he had informed you of the timing so you could have begun working on your hair and makeup instead of turning up to close to the time where you were in your lounge wear

After getting ready, you come out and present yourself to Jay. It was a long wine-colored green dress shoulder less showing your collarbone. The sleeves ended at your wrist, slightly flared. It embraced your curves, trailing down to the floor and encompassing your body--in a wonderful manner. Jay matched it with gold earrings that flowed down, a simple necklace with a diamond in the centre, and low heels. Jay hummed in fulfilment, looking down at you from top to bottom.

“How do I look?” Jay nods, “You look good, so good I'll turn straight for you.” You smile and laugh at his comment. It seemed he did have a sense of humour. You excuse yourself shortly rushing to do your hair and makeup while Jay is getting ready in your room. Shortly after, you emerge, stunned to discover his finished look.

He was dressed in an all-black suit with a black turtleneck, which wonderfully highlighted his features, particularly his jawline. You didn't want to acknowledge it, but he looked great. You subconsciously ogled at him, and Jay smiled proudly. “You like what you see love?” You shake your head, “Meh, it's fine I guess.” Jay grins to himself at how quickly you denied, as if your mouth didn't water at the sight of him. “Well then let's get going wouldn't want to be late now would we”

Soon you arrive. Jay comes out and opens your door, assisting you out of the vehicle and locking it behind him. He rests his hand on your waist, but he soon removes it. You turn to him “Can I put my hands there? Are you okay with that?” You nod gently, reassuring him. He places his hand back there, confirming to you the warmth you didn't realise you were missing. It made you feel at ease.

You both walk in while Jay greets all these people you don't recognise. To say you felt out of place is an understatement; you were dressed appropriately, but you didn't feel the part. Soon, a woman appeared, and from her appearance, you could tell she was Jay's "scary" mother, his words not yours.

“Hello, my lovely boy. Oh! And who could this be? Jay smiles and pulls you closer, “This is my date y/n.. and y/n this is my mother.” You bow and smile at her. “hello it's lovely to meet you Mrs park” His mother looks you over, looking for flaws to criticise you for. She stiffly smiles, but you know it's not genuine. “Hello there dear.. it's a pleasure to meet you. What do your parents do hmm?” You gulp.

Clearly, you and Jay did not think this through; you had not prepared anything, so you simply stated the truth. “My father was a senior clinical psychologist and my mother is a paralegal” she hums as she takes a sip of her drink. “So your parents aren't doing so well,” “ah.. what a same” you wrinkle a brow, “pardon? What do you mean by that, Mrs. Park,” she shrugs.

“A psychologist? Might as well have been a doctor, far more money, and a paralegal, was it not enough to not just be a lawyer, maybe she failed law school? I guess.. everyone has to find a means to get by."

Your rage must have been obvious. Jay gently squeezed your waist, rubbing it slightly. You couldn't tell if it was to calm you down or a warning not to overreact, but you moved on impulse. No one would speak about your parents, especially your father, who had passed away.

“Listen here..Mrs Park. I do not appreciate your comments regarding my parents' employment. As you seem to be unaware about, a psychologist is a very wonderful vocation. My father was the head of his own business and owned it; he worked in private health care. He earned a lot of money, more than enough to fucking survive…” you took a deep breath to gain composure “Oh! and for your information, I'm also studying psychology so that when I'm older, I can be as successful as my father-and just because my mother isn't in the spotlight of a law profession doesn't mean her work is any less important; she does all of the behind-the-scenes paperwork without the help of others like her , lawyers would have nothing to present in court. I’m sure you didn’t know that since your mindset is clearly limited”

Mrs park gasps and opens her mouth to inject but you cut her off “My mother makes a lot of money; she's not a billionaire, but she lives nicely and has raised me and my brothers comfortably, so do your research before you start talking down on jobs.” You handed Jay your drink and turned away to leave.

Jay's mother was taken aback because no one had ever spoken to her like that before. She was silent; you chewed and spat her out. As yunijin would say “you ate that girl” Jay was fairly pleased of how you stood up for yourself in the face of disagreements. One thing he liked about you was that no matter who it were, you held firm for what you believed in and never gave in to anyone else. “That insolent, arrogant brat! How could she!?” Jay turned to his mother. “She may be a brat at times, but she is not arrogant in general please stop from talking about my date in any unfavourable way, mother…” Jay quickly turned to walk after you.

You sigh as you step out onto a random balcony, embracing the chill. You lean on the edge, looking over the neighbourhood and gazing at the stars.

“The sky is beautiful isn't it?” You humm your eyes, not leaving what is in front of you. “Are you trying to flirt with me right now?” He rolls his eyes “maybe.. is it working love?” you smirk “if anything im turned off repulsed even disgusted it- “alright no need to over do it like I'm some creature who lacks in every ability to charm a woman” you look him in the eye “maybe you are? But one things for sure you certainly did not charm ms back there park. Neither your mother but that’s not the focus”

Jay's smile shrivels under the implications of your words, and he moves closer to you. “Listen.. my mother, like I said, she's scary, and it's hard to voice my opinions against her.” You cross your arms. “I get that, but she basically humiliated and billeted my parents. I know we're not close, but even if you said something or tried to stop her, I'd have appreciated feeling like im not on my own back there...you know? But I think I anticipated too much from you.”

Jay sighed. “What do you mean by that, and what are you trying to say? Trust me, I wanted to say something but couldn't bring myself to…” “ I'm sorry, I really wish I said something. I didn't like how she talked to you either, and I want to take accountability for that because she's my mother. I feel partly responsible, especially since I brought you here; it's my fault. I'm so sorry, y/n, and I completely understand if you just want to leave, you can I won't force you to stay.”

You turn and move approach him. You had no idea what possessed you to do such a thing, but before you realised it, you had placed a palm on his cheek, cupping it. “Honestly, everything is fine. I get where you're coming from. I don't know about your relationship with your mother, but if it's as difficult as you claim, I'll go with it. It's fine; I handled everything on my own rather well, didn't I?” You smile to yourself with pride. “I’m an independent woman after all”

Jay returned the same look, and if it hadn't been so dark, you would have noticed how bright his cheeks were at the contact of your cold hands “I like my women independent” he winked at you, causing you to quickly retreat your hand back using it to hit his chest “s..stop it” Jay smiles “would you believe me if I told you I stayed silent because I knew you were going to jump in so there was no need..haha” you flick him in the arm, making him yelp “don't make me change my mind park” jay quickly shook his head “just a jokey joke..” You smile as you move towards the door, “No worries then let's continue what we started”

The rest of the night went nicely; Jay's mother scowled at you the entire time, but never said anything, which you appreciated, and the meal was as good as you expected. “So this is what you affluent people do when you're bored?” he shrugs. “I suppose so.. I have these all the time” “How do you have time to prepare for midterms? Especially if it's 11 p.m. and no one appears ready to go home” you raise a brow awaiting his reaction “well... I make it work and quit interviewing me” you frown

“I am not interviewing you. I am only asking some inquiries. Can't a girl be curious?” he rolled his eyes, “you seem too curious for someone who doesn't like me”

“Well maybe I don't like you a little less than before” Jay raises an eyebrow, querying how you worded your sentence “Clearly, you visit the library, but not enough. Your sentence is grammatically incorrect nevertheless, I know how to decode the drivel you spew, therefore I understand you.” As usual, Jay had to find a way to irritate you. “If you understand me, you could have just said thank you and called it a night.” Jay laughs, looking at his watch.

“Like you said it's getting late we have class tommrow come on let's go I'll drive you home” you nod “loving the jays girlfriend experience it's a shame you have such as attitude for that I'll rate it a 7/10” Jay stands up with his hand against your back, guiding you through the crowd. “A 7/10? Come on, I treated you well tonight; I even gave you this lovely outfit and shoes, and I- “woah, woah, cool down, I was just kidding.. you've been so sweet to me today I’ve basically fallen in love with you at this point” you smile.

“Your in love with me?” You hum “I said basically doesn’t mean I actually am don’t get my words twisted I know how badly you want me and all..” you wait for his response yet all he does is stare at you with a look. A particular look you recognise, the look he gave you before he kissed you that day. Was he going to do it again? You secretly hoped he would.

“Y/n actually I- Jay! Is that you my favourite nephew I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Dispite the interruption Jay isn't sure what hit him, but he wanted to make you smile like that again and again, and he yearned for another time when he could be alone with you and do whatever he wanted.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

From that day onwards You and Jay were near each other more from the start. You studied together, spent your spare time together, and even greeted each other in the hallway. While you still had some arguments and words flung back and forth, they were less frequent and less sour and bitter.

“Jay Jay Jay jaayyyyyyy” he hummed as you poked his cheek. He felt the sharp agony of your acrylics scraping his cheque, but not wanting to upset you, he took the pain silently, allowing you to do whatever you pleased. “I've been thinking we should go out,” he shoots his head up. “G..go out really ?” You agree, “Yeah, there's this cool bowling place that opened about 15 minutes away from campus; we should go together.” Jays smile dropped as glad as he was to go with you, he was hoping it was to “go out with you,” if you catch the drift

But Jay was happy that you were happy and that’s what matters now. Your closeness to eacother was somthing Your friends soon all picked up on yet no one questioned it too much because they were relieved that everyone in the group was now on good terms.

But was that really the case?

What was supposed to be a relaxed atmosphere transformed into an uneasy, uncomfortable quiet. Jay Jake Sunghoon and Jungwon are present, but despite the normal cheerful environment, today no one speaks.

“So.. what's up guys..” Jake sought to break the silence but received no response. He sighs and sinks into the chair, succumbing to defeat. “Actually Jake..” Sunghoon answers “I wanna know what's up too” he speaks addressing Jake, but his eyes are straight on Jays, and Jay understands precisely what he is talking about.

“If you have somthing to say just be straight with me Sunghoon” he clicks his tongue againt his check growing agitated “what I can’t seem to understand.. is how you wanted me to stay away from her so bad because she’s a “bad person” yet all of a sudden your associating yourself with you even hanging out with her privately which you never did before..”

“Honestly I wish I could give you a straight answer for that.. but I can't really explain how I feel and I'm sorry for how I acted back then towards you about it I shoukd have just been true with my intentions” he said “then what are your intentions” Jay gulped, little nervous beneath his gaze, “I like her too, Sunghoon, and I think I always have..maybe ”

The room fell silent as Sunghoon's eyes ramined on Jay's eyes, twitching fingernails digging into his skin as his skin redness became sore. “I feel like such a fool.. my best friend has been lying to me all this time I knew it that day with the smell it was y/n's I smelled the same when I invited her to ice skate with me.. you've been lying under my nose this whole time kissing her doing god knows what with he for all I know! when I expressed my fucking interest in her!” Jay felt terribly awful for how it all played out. He wished things had been different, he wished he had never liked you or that sunghoon had never liked you in the first place, but it was too late.

“Sunghoon, I-“save it” he stood up, grabbing his bag departing. Jay gazed down with regret. Jake sighed and hurriedly stood up to follow, while Jungwon remained behind to check on Jay.

Straight after class you proceed to the lounge and in the corner you find Jay and Jungown. You approach them ready to say high until you catch on to the vibes. As you gaze at their looks bewildered, you pry

“Guys? Is everything alright?” They both glance at you silently. Jay says nothing at first but mutters a brief “I'll talk to you later” as he collects his things and leaves. Jungwon tags along, giving you an apologetic look as he departs, leaving you perplexed and alone to ponder your feelings.

Jay has distanced himself since that day. Perhaps you would have preferred not to see his face back then, but the you now dreaded it. He became part of your routine, something you looked forward to, and now it's as if it never happened. You waved at him in the canteen one day, he looked away, (ouch) the next you asked him a question, he got up and left, the other at the store he made eye contact with you and went into another section , you called, he declined, you texted, he was online but left you on delivered.

It's almost pathetic how badly you wanted to talk to him despite the fact that he ignored you every time, but you didn't want to give up; you had some hope that he'd ultimately talk to you, but he didn't.

Yujin was becoming concerned about your state; you stopped hanging out with the others at lunch, you didn't respond to the group chat despite being the most active, you stayed in your dorm most of the time and stopped going out with everyone, and when you did, you looked tired and drained this wasn't like you at all.

“What could I have done wrong yujin.. I don’t understand we were so fine like 2 weeks ago then boom ghosted” yujin sighed as she pattered your back in attempts to comfort you she truely didn’t understand either “I really don’t know.. it seems you guys were fine from what I saw maybe it’s a him issue”

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

Now it's the 15th, the day you dreaded. You had no idea how you would deal with Jay, or if he would even show up, because he now appears to despise you. You felt your stomach churn, which was a restless sensation. Taking the deepest breath your body could bear, you opened the door to see Jay sitting with some papers and reading them. You silently step in, locking the door behind you and sitting a few seats away while bringing out your paperwork.

Silence. As you expected

But impulsively it felt like the one chance you had to receive answers and closure because there were no excuses for him to run away and ignore you. “Jay” he hummed, not looking up, “why are you ignoring me? Have I done something wrong?” Jay doesn't say anything for a moment but eventually says “no”

“Why am I getting silent treatment then? And look at me when I'm talking to you.” Jay sighs softly, looking up to meet your gaze, and immediately lowers in sorrow as he sees your expression. “I've been wondering for weeks what I must have done to irritate you.. but I can't put my finger on it. We were getting there, Jay and we were getting along..then you just cut me off out of nowhere. What was the point if you were just going to do this? You might as well have just let me live my life, but no you made things complicated.”

“I..I'm sorry” you scoff in incredulity. He's not sorry; if he was, he wouldn't have done this to you in the first place if he cared enough. “ If you were sorry, you would not treat me this way, or... is this the goal to make me like you so you can then mess with my emotions!? and make me feel like shit since you despise me so much? If so well done actor of the fucking year.. you fooled me for sure.” You shake your head standing up, Jay replicates your movement, reaching out quickly seizing your wrist.

“Hey... no, no, it's not like that at all! Please hear me out. I didn't want to handle things this way” you sharply, remove your hands from his grip. The warmth he once gave you feeling disgusting It's as if a switch went off in your head, erasing any developing feelings and replaced them with what you once knew.

“What? Want to mislead me again with your lies and restart the cycle? Cut it out, Jay, you've won! Are you pleased with your achievements? Are you satisfied? And to think I thought we could someday... well, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? I don't want anything to do with you, Jay.” Jay was frustrated and scared, and he didn't know what to do. He attempted to convince you, but you refused to listen.

You turn to leave, ignoring his pleads. “Jay, if you know what's good for you, stay away from me right now. You've been doing so well lately, I'm sure it won't be a problem for you. Keep up the good work goodbye Jay,” you turn away, slamming the door behind you, leaving Jay to linger in remorse.

In frustration, he smashed his fists against the table, turning red. He was extremely angry. Angry at himself for being so dumb and small-minded; if he had just been honest with you, maybe things would have been different. Jay wasn't sure what to call it, but it felt like heartbreak more than anything. A wave of anguish overtook him, robbing him of appetite. He felt intense pain in his midsection, like if a shard had sliced through his gut. It felt like death, like despair, choking his body's breath and shutting down his brain effecting his ability to think.

With each passing day, you take another step away from him leaving him in the dark as he once did to you , roles now reversed he feels the same pain you did. despite his constant request and pleas that you show some signs. Your eyes show him distrust, and an averted stare.

“She's leaving today she didn't even say goodbye” Jake frowns and looks down as Jay strides into the room, reading a brow. “Who's leaving?” Jake and Yujin froze. “Uh.. no body jay it's nothing” he crosses his arms “tell me” Yujin keeps her mouth shut to keep her world safe, whereas Jake blabbers your secret under even the slightest pressure.

“Y/n! She is travelling for Canada today- her flight is at 8:45” Jake hurriedly covers his lips while Yunjin slaps him harshly on the shoulder “your so... useless,” she sighs in annoyance now looks at Jay "if your thinking of going don't bother there is no way you will make it in an hour she will be gone and wants nothing to do with..”

Yunjin halts in her sentence in shock as Jay speeds out his room you could practically feel the gust of wind from the speed at which Jay ran to his car. This was his last chance he had to at least try maybe now maybe now you would be willing to talk to him and sourt things out he needed and has been yurning to be in your Presence for so long

You sighed as you waited in queue to board your flight. Was this a hasty decision? Perhaps would it would improve your mental health 100%, especially since it was only for the rest of the academic year you needed this time for yourself. As you go through your playlist, you select a song and discreetly hum along to it, closing your eyes and immersing yourself in the music.

“Y/n!”

You were so engrossed in your music that you missed Jay desperately calling out your name as you made your way to the front, scanning your passport and pulling your bags closer to the jet. Jay worried and tried to get closer to you, but the airport was packed with people "y/n!" He called for you again.

But it was too late your figure was gone.

You wonder occasionally if you and Jay were actually incompatible , and how two wrongs may function together so strangely. Was your perfect harmony a lie?. Was it only temporary, or was it even there at all?-Or simply a thought you deluded yourself into thinking since you craving his attention so much.

You guess you will never know and neither will he.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ

ᝰ.ᐟ - note : after being gone for moths I’ve finnaly had the motivation to writeeee. This has taken me days hopefully you enjoyed and thank you for reading ૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

@SOOTREEPEAR

[joannechocolat]

Burn the library, or walk inside. Either way, it's your choice.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you can't have missed the escalating riots all around the country - riots which the media keep referring to as "protests", in spite of the fact that no-one involved seems to agree on just what they are protesting against.

Dragging strangers out of cars, burning down public buildings, throwing stones at ambulancemen, setting fire to hotels in a deliberate attempt to burn the people inside alive - and maybe scoring a new phone or pair of trainers on the way home - has nothing to do with "protest."

It certainly has nothing to do with the brutal murder of three little girls, although that was used as a springboard by online agitators, claiming that the murderer was an immigrant (he wasn't, and even if he were, attacking other immigrants because of what he did makes about as much sense as torching a Wetherspoons in Manchester in protest against Myra Hindley.) Nor does it have anything to do with Asian grooming gangs in Rotherham, although that's the most recent excuse I've heard: those grooming gangs were dreadful, but these criminals do not represent the Asian community any more than do the white leaders of grooming gangs (which by far outnumber them).

So, what the fuck is this about?

Well, it's the illegal immigrants, they say. Coming into our country, taking our jobs, raping our girls, yadda, yadda, yadda. Except that it isn't. Brexit has made it increasingly difficult for foreigners to work here, which is why so many European doctors and nurses have already left the country, putting still yet more pressure onto our dying NHS. And refugees - let's call them that, given they're neither immigrants, nor here illegally - aren't allowed to work while their application is being processed. As for "immigrant crime", a phrase that these people have borrowed from Trump - it represents a tiny proportion of crime in the UK, which by the way has risen sharply as the riots have escalated, because the police just don't have the manpower to fight on two fronts at the same time.

And add to this the fact that the principal agitators - people like Yaxley-Lennon and Farage - don't even live in this country, I think it's pretty clear that whatever motivation these burners of libraries, looters of shops, and goose-stepping Nazi cosplayers claim, it has nothing to do with "British values" or "taking back the country", and everything to do with doing whatever the fuck they want and blaming it on someone else.

Why do I care? Because I was born in one of these communities. I still have family in Rotherham, in Barnsley. I live less than fifteen miles away from the heart of these riots. I've done events in the libraries and universities that have been attacked. And by the way, isn't it weird how thugs always target libraries and places of learning on their way to robbing their local Lush, or Greggs, or Shoezone?

It's almost as if the agitators know that education is the key. That reading brings us together; teaches us to question what we read on the internet; crosses cultural boundaries; reminds us we're all human. And in disaffected communities like Rotherham, with a high degree of poverty, access to these ideas is very dangerous in the eyes of a far-right movement that wants to take power.

Already, 14 years of austerity, cuts and corruption has brought the country to its knees. By cutting education and the arts, Tories have reduced the access of these underprivileged communities to critical thinking and new ideas. Brexit has done further damage, as well as cutting us off from our allies. After the event, it is now clear how much Russian misinformation played its part in that process, just as it's playing a part right now in spreading its racist rhetoric via supporters like Farage and the fake accounts that amplify him. Now they're no longer in power, the far-right is doing its best to do as much further damage as possible to our society, urging people to "take control" by destroying anything else that can help them out of poverty.

Why? Because poor people are easier for the far-right to control. Poverty and crime are linked; just as illiteracy and crime are linked. And both of those things are linked to hate; to racism and mistrust of anyone who seems different.

But here's the thing. There's always a choice. Not everyone who grows up poor becomes a criminal. Not everyone who missed out on a good education becomes a racist. I grew up in a poor neighbourhood. There were some racists there, and some thugs, but most people were decent and honest. Most people were happy to co-exist with people of different cultures. I was one of those people; my family was different. Sometimes people even told us to go back home where we belonged. Most didn't. But of course, were were white. We looked like them. There's an obvious reason why brown and Black people in particular are being dehumanized and blamed for what's wrong with the country now.

And it's ironic, how people react when someone calls them racist? "But we're just ordinary people, with ordinary concerns."

"I'm not racist, I'm just (insert your bullshit reason here)."

And yet, here we are. Racism is ordinary. And if you do racist things, if you blame all brown people for what one brown person did, if you judge people by the way they look, if you make assumptions about whole groups of people, then you're a racist. And if you spout Nazi slogans, do Nazi salutes, walk with Nazis, repeat Nazi propaganda, then you're a fucking Nazi, mate. Live with it, or change. Your choice.

Because the choices we make today affect what comes tomorrow. And although poverty isn't a choice, being a decent person is. Your choices can help your children break the cycle of despair. Or they can keep your kids stuck in the same rut. To put it another way, you can take your kids to the library and let them learn to think for themselves. Or you can burn the libraries down and take them to watch you and your mates trying to set fire to some terrified refugees in a hotel instead.

Either way, your kids get to live with the choices you make today.

Right now, you're deciding their future.

Your choice.

[ellestra]

Paul Muad'Dib Usul

Dune Part 2 had more changes to the story than Part 1. It's not just omitting stuff for the sake of time but also changing the roles of many prominent characters. On one hand I understand why it feels like changing the story and characters. I felt it too watching - especially with Jessica and Chani becoming so different.

But on the other I feel it makes final message clearer. There are so many people who mistake this for a hero's story. This is why the white saviour phrase is so often thrown around. I feel like this version of the ending makes it very clear that is in not what Paul becomes.

It makes it sadder too since we see him try to avoid this and just be part of his new home. But the weight of expectations of so many people leave very limited options - from the believers and Jessica to his old life and Gurney Halleck - they all push for what they want him to be so they can get their fight and their revenge. And none of them is interested in the cost. Just like Stilgar they see the opportunities to get what they want and ignore everything else (which really is so common in wars it's not surprising even 20 000 more years in the future nothing changes). So Paul is left with only two options - it's either swim with the current and keep some control over where it takes him or go against it and drown.

It is of course magnified by the other side doing all they can to stack the deck for themselves so it's either victory or annihilation. And trying to pull the rains out of the hands of forces controlling the universe is never not bloody.

Reverend Mother Mohiam admits here directly that Bene Gesserit didn't just want a Kwisatz Haderach. They wanted one they could control. Just like they planted religions to control the populaces of countless worlds. But this kind of manipulation is easy to get out of hand when infighting happens and in the end not even chosen one can chose how it ends.

Even knowing the truth doesn't stop it. Even knowing what will happen doesn't stop it. Avalanche of history only stops at the bottom and you can only hope not to be one buried by it. But you can still judge those who started it.

The parts under the cut are bit more spoilery (about spice and controlling the universe)

So I don't necessarily disagree with the changes. Like I understand why Alia the way she is in books wouldn't really work. And I certainly get why they cut Count Fenrig. But there is one thing I wish they did leave - the Space Guild confrontation. Because this is missing important part of the message - the person who rules the Empire isn't the Emperor but the one who controls spice. Paul taking the title is just a formality.

Spice has always been the clear metaphor for oil. Spice is what allows for space travel and without it world become stranded alone. People are literally addicted to it and its life prolonging properties. Who controls the Spice controls the universe. And the person who can destroy something controls it. And this means there is no stopping the jihad. No bombing Arrakis from space. No travel ban on Fremen from Spacing Guild.

This allows Paul to destroy the old balance of power. He controls it all but he only does it through fulfilling other people expectations of who he is. And that means he becomes figurehead of a holy war. Those who helped him win now awaiting their rewards in blood for all that was done to them.