#but this has been in my head for a while now and it just bothered me even more

[orangeblossomsintheair]

HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33

summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

wc : 5k

an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. 😦 also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))

Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.

It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor.

When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.

But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.

Monaco isn’t a city, not really.

It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.

Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.

The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.

It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.

Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.

There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.

Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.

Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.

He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.

That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.

He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.

A voice.

Your voice.

It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.

Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.

The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.

He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.

He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.

You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.

The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.

And God, you look good.

For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.

You look different.

Not in a drastic way, just… grown.

Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.

And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.

To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.

You were his best friend.

No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.

He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.

People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.

Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.

Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.

But Max has never been great at logic.

For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

But then you glance over your shoulder.

And your eyes lock.

He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt

You see him.

And Max realizes he’s fucked.

For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.

He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.

It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.

But this? This disarms him completely.

You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.

“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”

Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.

No one except you.

“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.

Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”

You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.

He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.

It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.

Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.

“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”

“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”

Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.

The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.

Maybe months.

It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.

You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.

“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”

“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”

Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”

“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”

Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”

“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.

Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”

You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.

“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.

“He is,” Max agrees.

When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.

“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.

“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.

“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”

“WHAT?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.

So you double down.

“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.

“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”

“WHAT?”

This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.

He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.

“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.

“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.

“UPSTAIRS!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.

The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.

The relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.

“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”

“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.

“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”

“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”

You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”

You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”

Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”

You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”

“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”

Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”

“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.

“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”

“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”

“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”

“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”

He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”

“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”

You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”

“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.

“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.

“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.

“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”

The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.

Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.

Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.

The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.

Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”

“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.

“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.

“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.

“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.

His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.

“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”

“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”

You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”

Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”

“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”

“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.

Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”

“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”

Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”

“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”

“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.

“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”

“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.

“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”

You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”

“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”

“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.

Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”

You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.

“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”

“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”

“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”

“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.

“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.

“Am not,” you huff, pouting.

“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.

When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.

It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.

Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth.

His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.

“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night.

You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out one over the other. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”

Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.

He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.

By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities.

It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.

Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.

The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.

As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.

Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.

You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre.

The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.

“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.

Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You’re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.

You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.

The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.

Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.

You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles.

“This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.

Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”

You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”

The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure.

Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.

When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.

At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent.

The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives in a garble of Dutch and English.

“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates.

He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”

You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair.

With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.

“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.

Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.

“Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.

“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.

“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”

“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under.

The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.

For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.

—-

Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry.

He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses.

A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.

He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices.

He’s still in his room. So far, so good.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.

Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.

For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.

But then—

There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.

Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.

It’s... a person.

A person in his bed.

What the actual hell?

His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him?

Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train.

The person is you.

You, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.

For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up.

How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no.

This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.

“I need to call Daniel..”

[yieldtotemptation]

PAROXYSM ft. Mina

mina x male reader smut

part two of strange currencies

16k words

Go ahead, try and pretend like you’re not obsessed.

Like you’re not bothered that it’s been weeks since you had Mina—felt the heat of her body, the silk of her skin, the sweetness of her breath on your neck.

Since you've seen that ass. Had it in your hands, spread her cheeks with your fingers, stretched her wide with your cock and left Mina in tears, crying out—

"God, I can never go back from this."

And it’s not like you haven’t been searching for opportunities; a party you’d both be invited to, another gala, some event with enough plausible deniability for when you inevitably, ‘accidentally’ bump into her again.

But for some reason, nothing seems to align.

You’ll get word that she’s in Korea, basking in a rare stretch of free time, while you’re in Hong Kong, signing deals and making promises of dubious sincerity.

You’ll be rushing to return, already planning out how you’ll steal another taste of her, another touch; only to find out she’s been whisked away again—to Japan, or Brazil, or any one of the countless countries desperate to host her.

Glimpses is all you ever truly get—paparazzi shots, magazine covers, the odd video that passes through the digital ether.

So, yeah.

You let it rest, go through the motions, try to recreate it in the aggregate. There are plenty of pretty faces, eager bodies in your orbit.

But they're all just that: bodies.

Empty shells of what you had. They don’t laugh like her, they don’t keep you on your toes like she can, they don’t look at you with the same hunger.

(They don’t say your name like Mina did.)

—

“So,” is the first word you hear from Mina. Too much time has passed, and you’ve officially given up on any pretences of nonchalance. Decided to get straight to the point with the right people and just get her number. “I guess I’m not the only one who can’t stop thinking about that night.”

“Uncharted territory and all,” you’re repeating, and there’s a beat of silence on the other line.

A deep breath, and you swear you can hear her smile. “Definitely unique.”

It’s well past midnight and you’re tired and you’re feeling unusually vulnerable, so you're admitting things you'd usually keep under lock and key. “It’s been—you’ve been stuck in my head, Mina.”

“I know the feeling,” she sighs. Just the timbre of her voice and there’s shivers down your spine. “The memory alone is still—”

You finish for her, “Vivid.”

“I was going to say really fucking hot, but yes,” she laughs. “It’s helped me through some lonely nights. Remembering how you felt inside me, everything we did together it’s—God, you have no idea.”

“I’d argue I have the entire idea. For one—the stairs,” you’re supplying, grinning to yourself, leaning back in your chair, remembering the way she clung to you. How tight she was around you, how fucking new she felt as you filled her. “You were so fucking gorgeous. Never felt anything like it.”

“And the shower,” she counters, “you had me pinned against the tiles. Couldn’t move without you fucking me deeper. Just stuck with nowhere to go but further down your cock. No one’s ever done that to me.”

“Don’t forget the kitchen,” you add, “We got pretty creative with the utensils.”

Mina giggles. You didn't know she was capable of sounding so girlish. “I’ll never look at a spatula the same.”

It’s getting dangerous, each memory rekindling the flame of a night that you’d tried to convince yourself couldn’t have been as epic as you remembered. Couldn’t have mattered so much.

And yet here you are now, letting Mina stir up thoughts of her cunt gushing down her thighs, her nipples stiffening between your teeth, her ass choking your cock, the look on her face when she came all over you—and you know she’s wading through the very same set of flashbacks.

“Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that garden. Your hands are all over me, your mouth everywhere—”

“Your cunt on my tongue—”

“Your fingers in my ass—”

“Your fucking moans, Mina—”

“Wait, I need to—”

Mina stops you, and you find yourself releasing a breath you didn't even know you were holding. You think you can hear her; hear the shutting of a door, a lock turning, frantic pacing, the squeak of a bed.

Your eyes close and you're picturing it now—Mina, laid back on pure white sheets, sprawled out like a Goddess. It's all there, crystal clear. Fingers dancing over her collarbones, tracing the delicate line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts.

Teasing herself, running her thumbs over her areola, the skin there a shade darker, a touch more sensitive. Pinching and pulling, peaks hardening into tight buds, missing the roughness of your tongue.

And then going lower, down over her ridged abs and between her toned thighs. Spreading her legs out in an invitation, toes curling into the mattress. Finding herself slick with need, so, so soaked. Dipping down to trace over her folds before sliding right into the wet heat.

Mina gasps. It's not your imagination. She moans into the phone.

You can almost taste her again.

She finds her voice. "Please, keep talking."

—

The first photo comes through the very next day.

You can intuit from the architecture in the background—the steep roofs, the brick exteriors, the gothic towers—she’s somewhere in Paris.

And there’s Mina, flat on her stomach, sheets tangled around her like the aftermath of a hurricane that’s swept through. Smiling at you straight down the barrel of the camera, cutting through the digital space between you. It’s sly and knowing and a little bit wicked, because she knows that it’s not the view of the city behind her that you’re looking at, nor is it even her face, usually so stunningly unavoidable and instantly captivating.

It's her ass.

Plump and round, poking over her shoulder, filling a whole corner of the frame. And you're spotting the indentations where your fingers have sunk in, the stretch of alabaster that your grip turned a shade of pink. A map of memories etched across the curve of her cheeks.

It’s a thousand words in a single photo, a message loud and clear, carefully composed to make you ache. So, you do. You ache.

You save the picture—not because you think you’re going to forget, but because you need to have a piece of her with you at all times.

Something to pull out when the days are too long, too dull. Something to look at when your memories of her aren’t enough anymore.

The photo, you notice, comes with a caption: ‘The only thing missing here is you.’

—

“Stability,” Mina’s telling you nights later, after you’ve spent close to an hour describing to her all the ways you’d like to have her again, like to break her down until she’s just a trembling mess of limbs and cum.

It’s a habit the two of you have picked up; these clandestine calls that come in the dead of night, during those rare occasions you’re in a reasonable enough time zone to talk. You’re actually in the same country this time. The States, but on different coasts, so, close enough.

She’s sending these breathy whispers down the phone; still coming down from her high, from the way her thighs clenched around her own hand, from the way she painted your name onto her skin with her own juices.

Still coming down from you, from the meticulously detailed step-by-step explanations of exactly what you’d do to her if you weren’t thousands of kilometres apart.

“Stability,” you repeat the answer she’s given to the question that’s been burning in your mind for weeks now. It’s certainly a faux pas to ask right after she’s made you cum across your own chest; but it’s late, and tonight’s suite is far too big and much too quiet—the kind of quiet that lets you think too much.

And so you had to ask her. Why was she still with him?

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Mina confirms. “I like stability, I like routine, I like knowing what to expect. Means I can never be disappointed.”

“Never be surprised, either,” you point out. She laughs, the sound warm and rich through the speaker.

“That’s never really been a problem.” She pauses. “Until you.”

There’s an alarm bell sounding somewhere, triggered by the way that last syllable curls around the corners of her lips, bounces across fifty different states to land in your ear.

You.

It rattles around your brain, punches you right in the gut. You try to play it off with a chuckle. But you both know what this really is. The desperation, the need. What you do to each other. How much of a fucking mess you’d make together if you had half the chance.

You make an attempt at being casual: “Apologies, then.”

“You kinda fuck everything up for me, you know?” She admits. “I was fine with it all. Leaving all of this as just a fantasy. Living with the boredom.”

“Everything’s boring.”

“Except this.”

You should really be above all this. The pining, the yearning. Having a crush.

It’s unbecoming.

Leave her alone. Leave her to the dream life she’s built up for herself. The career, the boyfriend, the whole shiny package that everyone’s decided she should want. It’d be the rational thing to do.

And yet— “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“I suppose,” Mina says, and once again, you're swearing you can hear her smile through the phone, because this is far from the end of things, “We’ll just have to find some way to scratch this itch.”

—

(It’s an outrageous abuse of power.

But so what? You’re an asshole billionaire, that’s what everyone expects of you anyway.

Besides, compared to your peers, it falls far short of bankrupting entire economies or causing irreparable damage to the Earth’s oceans and atmosphere.

So why not go full tilt and really indulge?

That’s basically the gist of your justification for forcing fate’s hand and manifesting your own ‘accidental’ meeting with Mina.

Still. It’s only a meeting.)

—

“Quite a situation you’ve engineered here,” is Mina’s first quip, as she steps right out of your daydreams and into your office.

Oh, you’ve been thinking of her.

Spent time replaying that night in your mind, revisiting the sight of her bouncing on that staircase, the feel of her soft skin slapping against yours, the sound of her sighs in your ears.

Obsessed over the messages, the photos, the videos she’s sent—how she moves, that coy smile on her face when she knows she’s got your full attention in her grip. All these mesmerising moments captured in high-definition.

And it’s coming back to you now—the waterfall of hair cascading down her shoulders, the red of her lips, the beauty spot on her nose, above her cupid’s bow—a constellation across her face.

(She makes your office feel small.)

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, aiming for flippant, but missing the mark by a wide margin.

“Mhm,” is all you’re going to get, because you both know better.

She makes herself at home here, taking the long way to your desk. Hips swaying as she runs her fingers over the décor, the lights and the statues, the books and the furniture. Again, fitting right in with the expensive, the luxurious, the exclusive.

You’re not hiding that you’re staring, and she’s not hiding that she knows either.

Mina walks right past you, turns away so you can see the full sweep of her back, the high-waisted skirt that hugs her curves before flaring out at the waist. Eventually, she stops at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city, the urban sprawl below a far cry from the palatial gardens that backdropped your first encounter.

The sun’s setting overhead. It casts a warm glow over her. Outlines her figure in gold.

You break the silence, "Heard the photoshoot went well."

“Well, you get what you pay for,” is Mina’s second quip of the afternoon. She turns back to face you, leaning against the window frame, a perfect silhouette.

You can almost hear the glass tremble.

Mina asks, offhandedly, “You’ll have to enlighten me—is it standard practice for visitor passes to have access to every floor in the tower?”

“Security must be lacking.”

“Right,” Mina says. “And is it normal in your line of work, for the CEO to handpick the brand ambassadors?”

You shrug. “I like to get my hands dirty.”

“If that’s what they’re calling it,” she responds, smiling now. Pushing herself off the glass and taking a dangerous step forward.

“We were looking to appeal to our Japanese market,” you say, repeating the same lines you fed to your team, to her management, to anyone who bothered to raise an eyebrow. It’s a good lie. “Needed someone refined, someone that depicted class. Aspirational.”

Mina takes another step forward. Heels that make her legs look endless hitting the polished flooring with a click. "So that's how you see me, then."

"Amongst other, less appropriate things," you admit, already completely, hopelessly captivated.

"Let me guess: Stunning?"

"That's one."

“Fuckable.”

“Absolutely.”

“Submissive?”

“Are you asking, or telling me?”

Mina’s eyes dazzle as she closes the distance, rounding your desk and stopping just short of your chair. She waits for you to swivel and face her.

And then she leans forward, so close. Nose brushing yours, breath warm and sweet and familiar. Her hands land on your thighs, pushing your legs apart.

She drops to her knees.

“Telling.”

You can’t help yourself, you press your thumb to her lips, stamping it crimson.

It’s a wicked thing, how Mina’s bottom lip dips, how her tongue snakes out to lick the pad of your thumb clean. You push in deeper, watching as she takes you into her mouth, seals her lips around you and sucks.

How she’s looking at you now—building up this image of Mina; kneeling, the skirt riding up, her panties soaked with anticipation. Dressed like this is just another business meeting—masked in a high neckline and a smile so perfect against your skin.

That's today's game. Dress up.

Professionalism went out the window the moment she walked in—it barely crosses your mind to wonder whether or not she locked the door. You don’t even care.

Mina stops her little show, thumb pops out of her mouth with a wet sound, leaving a smear of red behind. There’s something about Mina, something that can’t be intuited unless she’s right in front of you, inhaling your exhales, smiling up at you like you're the only person in the entire world that matters.

It's like magic—makes everything and everyone else feel like a figment of your imagination.

“You forgot to mention a few other things,” Mina breathes on you, low and warm, priming you for a punchline that you know will send you reeling.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know,” and she starts unbuttoning her blouse, reaching for the top button then— “How utterly,”

Then the next button.

“Desperately,”

More still.

“Needy,”

All of them.

“I am for your wonderful, perfect cock.”

The blouse opens up, falls away, drifts off her shoulders until it’s blood-red lace and vanilla-white skin.

Fuck.

(Mina’s not from this world, no fucking way. Definitely not human; jury’s out on if she’s some kind of Goddess. Probably something in between, come down from some place where the air is thinner and the lights are brighter.)

Your mouth is dry. “I could never forget.”

Mina’s eyes crinkle at the corners. Lips spread wide. She’s kissing your cock through your pants.

It’s electric. A long, teasing press of her lips that winds you so tight that just the slightest touch, just a single word could set you off.

Her teeth graze the fabric. You throb through the cotton.

“Mina,” you manage, hand dropping to the side of her face. There’s a tremor in your voice that you’re not used to, that you can’t even pretend to hide. Mina’s got you in the palm of her hand—or rather, on the edge of her lips—even though she’s the one on her knees.

“Relax,” she coos, holding her lips against you, deft fingers unlatching your belt, finding your zipper. “Let me take care of you. Let me take care of this cock,” honeyed words slipping out with the same ease that tugs you free, “Get my tongue all over it, take it deep down my throat, be such a good little whore for you—until you can’t think of anything but how much you want me to swallow every drop you’ve got for me, baby.”

You swallow, caress her cheek, “Darling—”

“Shh," Mina hushes, taking your cock into her hand, holding it against her cheek. So damn happy to have it so close to her mouth once again. “Everything you said over the phone. All that stuff about fucking my face, leaving a mess, filling up my throat—I want it all. You’re going to give it to me now, please.”

She doesn’t even look up at you, just so focused on your cock. Kissing around the shaft, and then drawing her tongue in one, slow, dragging lick all the way from your base, right to the tip. It’s gentle, careful, exploratory.

Introducing her lips to every inch of skin along your cock, over your balls, taking her time to stain all of you with the sheen of her kisses. Careful, so careful. Meticulous too, deep in concentration that you can almost feel her thoughts, intuit from the pressure of her lips how much this means to her. How much she needs it.

And it’s as her breath warms the head of your cock that you realise you’ve got a stranglehold on the armrest of your chair, holding it so tightly you could snap it in two. Not like there’s any helping it, nothing to do but brace yourself as she opens her mouth, pink tongue peeking out, and licks you again—longer, slower.

Holding still now, cock balanced on her tongue, fixing you with this stare.

A dare.

(Don’t move. Don’t interrupt. Let her do her work.)

That’s when her boyfriend calls.

Sorry, her partner.

A jarring noise, a slap in the face that breaks the spell. Vibrating atop your oak desk, a violent buzzing through the room—once, twice, thrice.

Mina’s eyes flick to yours. A split second, a single thought shared. There’s laughter on her lips because of course, because why the fuck not, because this is definitely your kind of chaos. You nod. You’re both in on the joke.

The phone’s still ringing, ringing, ringing.

And Mina’s mouth is still on you, tongue tickling underneath, lips wrapping around, before taking you in deep. Right as she accepts the call.

“Hmf?”

—

(A good idea to mention this theory you’ve been brewing for a while, the other reason why Mina still hasn’t broken up with boyfriend.

Because of you.

Because of how much fucking hotter it makes her. The thrill, the rush, putting a blemish on an otherwise spotless record.

And maybe you’re just as guilty—because you want to hear her lie to him too.)

—

“Still working,” is Mina’s deadpan over the phone, somehow keeping a straight face despite how full her hands are with you. She even rolls her eyes. “You know how it is—unreasonable CEOs jumping down my throat for no good reason at all.”

This woman.

Churning lies with such ease that you almost feel sorry for the poor, oblivious soul on the other end of the phone. Almost.

But Mina's too good at all of this. Too good at hiding it all. Too good at everything, really—whether it's singing, dancing, kneeling before you, making your cock disappear down her throat.

Just a slight adjustment in posture, and she’s taking you in deeper. A gentle suck, a swirl of her tongue around the ridge—and oh, the way she’s looking at you, eyes up and so damn full of mischief.

She’s fucking loving this. Loving the way you’re watching her, the way your hand finds her hair as she takes you in, the way you’re fighting to keep your composure. Fighting to keep your breath even and calm and to stop yourself from groaning so loud that it won’t just be her boyfriend, but the whole fucking tower that’s going to hear how much of a slut she is for you.

You can still hear his voice coming through—muted, indistinct—like a ghost, haunting the edges of this pornographic scene you’ve painted together. 

Fuck this guy likes to talk.

“Mhm,” is all Mina has to say to keep him convinced, to let him believe that she’s actually invested in whatever the fuck he’s on about. Keeping him none the wiser that her full attention is on you, her mouth moving up and down, her eyes glued to yours, watching every twitch, every drop of pleasure that flits across your face.

She reaches up with her free hand, wrapping it around the base of your cock. Gliding along your shaft in this twisting movement that sets your nerves alight.

Everything’s just so tight—her grip, her throat, your own breath in your chest.

“Mhm,” again, longer, sounding closer and closer to a moan than a casual agreement, but still, she’s playing the part. Barely listening to what he’s saying, because she’s doing this thing with her tongue—right at the tip, flicking it around your slit—that’s making you test the strength of your chair.

There’s temptation here—her mouth so warm, so wet—it would be so easy to grab a fistful of her hair and fuck her mouth like you know she wants. But you keep your cool, keep your hand gentle and steady atop her head, let her dictate the rhythm.

And when you hear the voice over the phone rise, maybe a bit of frustration or concern, maybe the start of something suspicious, Mina shamelessly pops your cock out of your mouth and answers, “Just having a snack. Late lunch break.”

She hits the mute button.

Bows her head deep, savouring each inch as she takes you deeper, making this fucking sound when your cock hits the back of the throat. Wet, gagging, sloppy noises that build this tension right at the base of your spine that leaves you aching, absolutely desperate to just give her more.

She holds herself there, choking so nicely, so sweetly, on your cock. Her eyes start water, it’s an effort to keep them open, but she’s still smiling through it all, just so delighted to finally taste what she’s been dying to have for weeks.

You’re struggling, “Fucking hell, Mina.”

Mina giggles into your cock, vibrating along your shaft. Pulls her head back; just a rope of spit that connects the two of you, glinting under the fluorescent lights. A poke of her tongue has her scooping it all up and slurping it all down, smacking her lips with a satisfied ‘ah’.

She unmutes.

“Sorry, it just tastes really good. Like nothing I’ve had before.”

There’s a confused murmur coming out of the speaker, a perturbed, “Really?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” and Mina has the gall to wink at you, the audacity to keep her hand on your cock, stroking it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. All the while she just chats to her boyfriend—partner, again—like you’re not about to cover her face with your entire load.

“Mina,” you let slip when she squeezes too hard, cranes her head to feel the weight of your balls on her tongue. Lapping away, licking and tonguing and teasing, until you’re gritting your teeth, holding back the moan that wants to break free.

The voice at the end of the line crackles, “Who’s that?”

Mina doesn’t miss a beat, “Boss for the day,” presses a wet kiss onto the head of your cock in a futile attempt to still you, “Really pushing me hard, making me work for it, you know?”

The voice relaxes, but not enough. “What’s going on over there? Something doesn’t sound right.”

“Everything’s perfect.” Mina’s just so pleased with herself, tongue dancing up and down, over and around, making the chair creak from the reflexive jerk she forces out of you. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t do these types of jobs, you should listen to me and—”

“Get on my hands and knees and beg them to let me break the contract?” Mina smirks up at you, lips all smeared and messy with your arousal. “I can handle it” she continues on, dragging her lips to your base so she can slur into your waist, “I’m a professional. This is what I’m built for.”

God, he really doesn't deserve her.

He drops the subject so easily, moving on to talk more about him, about his schedules, his work, his boring fucking existence outside of her. And now you’re both rolling your eyes, sharing this secret, this ridiculousness that’s got you both on the edge of laughter and utter bliss.

Mina ups the ante, mutes her side of the call, and places the phone back on top of the desk.

You cock an eyebrow. “Seriously, him?”

She shakes her head. “No, just you.”

And she shows you, proves her point, because Mina’s not one for half-measures. Holds your cock tightly, strokes it again and again, one after another like it’s counting down to something explosive. Bomb’s ticking: the pressure’s building, the heat is coiling in your balls, but she keeps it steady, keeps it slow, keeps it right on that edge where it’s just enough to keep you there, but not enough to push you over.

“I’m just yours,” Mina hums, licking her swollen lips. “I’m yours to do with as you please, but,” she pauses, so she can jerk you just right, stroking with such finesse that you can't believe she's ever been with someone who didn't appreciate it, "I'm really hoping you let me swallow your cock now."

“You’re too fucking greedy.” 

Mina nods so earnestly.

So you give her what she wants, because what’s the point of playing this game if she isn’t going to win? 

You stroke the back of her head, guide her as she takes you all the way—nose to stomach, swallowing you up like you’re her favourite snack, her favourite secret. Her favourite lie to tell herself.

Fucking ridiculous. Too fucking much.

You lift your hips, leaving her to yank down your pants over your knees and to the ground. The clank of your belt buckle against marble echoes through the room, a starting gun to your undoing.

The phone’s still there, he’s still talking, a vaguely muffled annoyance. Mina doesn't even spare it a glance, just looks up at you, mouth full, eyes declaring:

‘Ignore everything else, just enjoy me.’

Fuck.

Mina’s cheeks hollow, her throat pulses, and gone is the usual effortless grace that she carries through everything she does.

No, she’s all raw, all passion. Sloppy now, greedy, showing you just how much she’s willing to do for you. It’s in the way she’s using her hand to squeeze the base of your shaft, the way she’s bobbing her head faster and faster.

Filling the room with the sounds of her slurps and smacking of her lips; her eyes watering with every deepthroat. Making her mouth this perfect, wet, hot little cave that’s swallowing you whole.

And you’re watching, watching every single move she makes. Unable to do anything else, really. Unable to think, to speak, to do anything but stare at her mouth, her eyes, her hand moving up and down, up and down—stare at Mina giving herself over to you.

“Jesus—fuck—” and there’s your voice back again, so much louder than you intended.

But Mina’s smiling around your cock, eyes still on you, urging you on, putting you under her spell. She’s playing with your balls now, her thumb brushing over the sensitive skin, her nails lightly scraping, and it’s like she’s got every button mapped out, knows exactly how to make you go off the deep end.

"Mina, you're just so," you try, rummaging through your addled mind for the right words to pin on this storm before you, "so fucking good at this," you finally settle on.

Mina's eyes light up, triumphant. Deep pools of brown swirling with all sorts of things—few that can be said out loud and even fewer that should ever be thought—and none of which she gives a flying fuck about.

Your cock slides off her lips long enough for her to slur, "Flattery gets you everywhere, sir."

“Mina.”

She's just so happy with it all—it's a little unsettling. Mina, all elegance and poise, so fucking giddy at the opportunity to debase herself at your feet.

She takes a breath, a real one, not the shallow, desperate ones she’s been taking for the past few minutes, and then she’s diving back down. You can see the determination in the set of her jaw, the way she’s holding herself in place with one hand on your thigh so she can devour you whole. And she’s doing a phenomenal job, really, because your cock’s so hard it’s almost painful, and your thighs are trembling with the effort of keeping still.

But she’s not done yet, Mina’s never done. She reaches behind her, unclips her bra with a flick of her thumb, slipping it off her shoulders—a silent, unnoticed escape.

Perfect little tits, perfect little dusky nipples, peaked and ready for your attention. 

She takes one in her hand, rolls the nub between her fingers, playing with it, plucking it like a guitar string, making it sing. Making sure you’re still looking, while she's still sucking you off with her mouth, still fucking grinning around your cock.

A true masterclass in multitasking.

Her other hand stays on you, working in tandem with her mouth. A stroke for every bob, a squeeze for every moan, and she’s whining into your skin, a muffled—mmph, mmph, mmph—so loving that you know it’s not just for show.

Her hand drops down, slipping between her legs, disappearing into the fabric of her skirt. You can’t quite see it, but you know by her sigh as she leans into your thigh, by the way her other hand pinches her nipple harder, that she’s pressing up and into herself.

The fabric’s too thick to see much, but you can imagine her—fuck, you don’t have to imagine—you can almost feel her, her fingers sliding into her wetness, her palm cupping her mound, her middle finger circling her clit like it’s the head of a tiny drum, matching the same rhythm that’s been driving this whole spectacle.

“Your fucking mouth, Mina.”

The words leave you on a groan, a tightening of your grip on her head as she just plays and plays. Every suck pure heaven, warm, wet, utterly divine; pulling your hips closer and closer off the edge of your seat, until you’re nearly falling down her throat.

But even Mina, for all her skill and polish, can’t hold out forever. The fingers at her cunt, the kneading of her own tits, the gagging around your cock, the oblivious boyfriend still blissfully unaware of the depraved scene unfolding on the other end of the line.

It’s a heady cocktail, and she’s had too much too quickly. Her throat’s tightening around you, rogue tears are sliding down her cheeks, and it’s about time that you both give up on pretence and hurtle straight to the crux of this entire escapade.

You stand, rising to your feet before Mina has you tumbling off your chair, sliding your cock out of her chasing lips.

“Mina,” you breathe, voice full of gravel, heavy.

Mina’s frozen, just staring at your cock dangling above her nose, her mouth open and wet, her big, brown eyes begging for its return to her lips.

“Mina,” you repeat.

“Mmm?”

“I want to fuck your face now.”  

Mina licks her lips. “Want to?”

“I will.”

“Please,” she says, a single word like a hot knife slicing through whatever restraint you have let. And you’re just about to lose it, really fucking lose it because she’s so fucking eager, so fucking hot for it, so absolutely fucking yours.

In your office, at your desk, kneeling at your feet, skirt rucked up around her waist, panties drenched.

She ties up her hair into a messy bun.

“Please, use me.”

A twist of your hips has your cock slapping against her cheek, the sound bouncing off the walls, leaving a trail of gloss across her flushed skin.

Mina laughs.

You lean down, grab her hair, thread your fingers through the strands, and guide her lips to where they were made to be.

“Christ,” is ripped from your throat as your cock is back down hers, plunging into her mouth like its home.

You push, push until her nose is squished against your pelvis, holding her there; her throat tight against your cock, her hand working her clit in double time. Whimpers escape past her lips, muffled whines that threaten to break you if you’ll let it.

But you don’t, not yet. You pull out, just long enough to let her gasp for air, only, she doesn't need the respite. She just blinks, and begs—

“Again.”

And again. And again.

Until she’s a writhing mess, until she’s shaking with the effort of holding herself together, until you’re plunging into her mouth so fast that you’re truly fucking her throat.

Deep, harsh strokes that make her cheek bulge, that fuck tears from her eyes. And Mina fucking loves it. Loves every second of it, loves having her head thrown back, her throat working for you like it’s your divine right, like her sole purpose in life has been to take your cock.

You’re fucking her face like you said you would, like she’s been begging you to do for weeks, whispering sweet nothings and filthy somethings into your ear during those late-night phone calls. Giving exactly what she’s been craving, exactly what she’s been dreaming about when she fucked herself so nicely for you to hear.

And she’s just taking it, letting you use her mouth like it’s nothing, because to her, it’s everything.

She’s lost in it, her hand a blur between her legs, her eyes glazed over. She’s so close, so fucking close, and she’s taking you with her; dragging you down into this pit of depravity that she’s been keeping warm for you.

“Mina?”

And there’s the phone again. Louder now, insistent, demanding. Finally noticing somethings not quite right.

"Mina?"

There’s panic in Mina’s eyes—but you’re quick to realise it’s not worry for him. It’s desperation for you. For you to keep going, for you to not notice, for you to keep the fantasy alive.

But you do notice. And it just makes you harder.

You're too far gone now—you're thrusting into her mouth with a fervour that’s almost violent. Mina’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she takes it all, letting you fuck her face with a reckless abandon that’s only heightened by the voice on the phone getting louder, more concerned.

You’re the only voice she’ll listen to now. “Hold still for me, Mina.”

Her eyes go wide, and she nods, her mouth stretched wide around you. Cradling her cheeks, just firm enough to feel the heat of her blush.

“Mina, why are you muted?”

She’s barely even on this planet anymore—just bringing herself closer to the edge, loosening these ragged, wet moans around your pistoning cock.

“Mina, are you ignoring me again, seriously?”

“Mmph—fuh—mmph—” is her attempt at an answer, but she’s too busy letting you use your mouth, too busy fucking herself on her fingers, too busy being the perfect little slut she’s told you she wanted to be.

It fills the room—the sounds of wet, sloppy sucking, careless fucking, your own grunts of pleasure. And somewhere in the background, that voice getting more and more insistent.

“Mina, say something, answer me!”

And she does. Just not to him. She says it to you, mouth full, eyes on yours.

Garbled, stuttered, fucked-up little pleas— “there—there—please—please—oh my god—"

Her hand moves faster, her throat seizes, her eyes roll back in her head. Her body jerks, her hand still working her clit, her mouth still full of you.

Mina cums at your feet, a terrible, beautiful orchestra of noises—moaning, gurgling, gagging around your cock. Swallowing, desperate for a breath of air, trying not to choke, eyes watering so badly it’s a surprise she can see you at all.

You pull out, so abruptly that she gasps and stumbles a little. And yet, despite it all, despite how brutally hard and fast her orgasm hits her, she’s still smiling up at you, as graceful and gorgeous as ever.

So fucking proud of herself.

And she’s not done yet. She’s never done, not really.

Her hand comes up to catch you, holding your cock like an anchor, keeping you ready as she takes a moment to recover. The other reaches for the phone, a shaky hand bringing it to her lips, level with your own tip.

She takes a breath. She’s going to answer.

She unmutes again.

“Sorry. Can’t talk. Gotta finish something big.”

“Mina—what the fuck are you—”

Mina gives you that look—that nod.

Sucks you in one last time, gives you a final choke. A desperate gag, a deep impossible swallow down her throat. And then she releases you from her lips.

The phone clatters to the floor, forgotten.

“Cum for me, please, baby.”

At her instruction, you're erupting.

Mina captures the head of your cock with her lips, keeps it balanced on the edge. Uses both hands to twist and wind around your shaft. Overwhelming you, seizing you into her mouth because this is exactly what she’s been starved for.

Breaking a fucking dam inside you, flooding her mouth with your cum, completing her with your taste. It hits the back of her throat, thick and hot and she swallows and swallows and swallows.

So fucking grateful for every drop, for every pulse that shoots into her mouth, coating her tongue, sliding down her throat. She’s drinking you down like water, like air, like she can’t get enough of you, leaving you breathless until all you can do is just repeat her name over and over again—an endless chant of “Mina.”

And when you’re finally done, when every nerve-ending in your legs isn’t burning down and threatening to take you with it, you pull out of her mouth, gasping for air.

Mina just sits there.

Looking up at you, naked chest heaving, nipples stinging red. Cum slipping out the corners of her mouth, staining her chin. Skirt ruined, panties a sodden mess around her ankles. Hand still on your cock, coaxing you to peace.

And fuck, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

With a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, Mina reaches down to the floor and picks up the phone. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, not even bothering to be delicate about it.

"Hey," she says, voice miraculously calm and collected. "Sorry—got distracted."

You watch, utterly stunned, as she plays the part of the girlfriend so flawlessly, puts on an Oscar-worthy performance. You can hear the boyfriend's voice, frantic and worried—and completely fooled.

But then she looks at you, clears her throat, and her smile goes wide, and you can see the woman beneath the façade. The woman who's had enough of being bored. Who's decided that she's owed the impossible fantasy.

Kneeling on the floor, yet more powerful than ever.

So, so fucking perfect.

Spreading her thighs, fingers back at her cunt, carefully toying with her clit. Building herself back up to that peak she’s just thrown herself from, because apparently, that’s what you’ve taught her to do.

To never settle, never stop, never be satisfied with just one taste.

You’re cock throbs.

“Mina, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Her hand moves faster, her thumb circling and pressing, her middle finger slipping inside herself. You can see the gleam under the artificial lights, how her cunt’s making everything sticky and messy.

Making herself nice and ready.

“There's a big mess here,” she says into the phone, all sugary sweet, a perfect story that drips from her tongue like molasses. “Lot of clean up. It’s ruined me—ruined the whole job. It’s gonna keep me here all fucking night.”

—

(It’s just an arrangement.

That’s what you’re calling it when the moon’s rising over your office, and Mina’s kissing these promises over your heart, drawing up the terms of this unwritten contract that neither of you can really commit to—even though you're both well aware of how much you want to.

Sex, as an agreement. Sex, as a release. Sex, because you’re both fucking incredible at it.

It just might be everything you both need.

You're both just too afraid to be the first to say it out loud.) 

—

Weeks later, and you get really fucking good at making time for her.

Whether it’s fifteen minutes at a party, a couple hours at an airport, or a few nights spent in a hotel room with the curtains drawn and a do not disturb sign nailed to the door—everything starts to fall into place.

There's always an empty room to be pulled in to, a shadow to be claimed, a corner of the world that belongs to you.

It’s Mina, straddling you in the backseat of a limo, her cunt tight around you as the city lights slide by. Your hand on her throat, not choking but guiding, a conversation based on pressure and pleasure alone. Her tits bounce in your face, begging for your teeth, and you give it to them, biting down until she’s gasping your name into the leather upholstery. The chauffeur pretends not to notice. You don’t pretend anything.

It's you, bending her over the bathroom counter of some stranger’s house, her rather business-like slacks down at her feet to expose the bare, wonderful convex of her ass. You spank her until she’s crying, until she’s bright red and demanding that you make good on your promise to fill her up so she can’t leave this party without globs of you leaking down her legs.

It’s hotel beds that have seen too much, office desks forced to bear your weight, dressing rooms with the door locked tight.

It’s the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching, the way she says your name. How she laughs, how she teases you, how she lets you in—just a little, just enough to keep you hooked. And you do the same.

It’s sex, but it’s not just sex, no matter what you tell yourself.

And it’s Mina again, fixing her hair while you zip her into something far more appropriate, already mentioning, “I'm going to be in New York next week, if you're in the area—"

And it's you, answering in the same way that you always do, "I’ll find a way."

—

Serendipity finds the two of you in Shanghai, amidst all its concrete jungle and neon lights, kept at bay by the soundproof windows and the drawn curtains of this hotel room turned temporary sanctuary.

Mina's stretched out on the bed, wearing one of your shirts that swallows her up to her knees, her hair a mess of curls and knots that she hasn't bothered to tame. Nose buried in a book—something thick and weighty Nayeon recommended her.

Paying no mind to you, as you’re busy brewing tea in the kitchenette (piping hot, oolong, how she likes it).

You sneak a glance as you wait for the kettle to boil, at the perfect picture she's composing—her bare legs peeking out from the shirt, the soft curve of her waist, the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows across her skin.

It's seeing her like this, far more exposed and naked than minutes ago when she was pinned beneath you wearing nothing at all, draining your cum into her cunt and thanking you for the privilege.

The drawbridge is coming down, guards leaving their posts—just the two of you in your stolen moments.

It's nice.

She catches you staring.

Tilts her chin down, peering at you over her glasses.

You ask, "Am I distracting you?"

"Always," she says, and it's loaded with the sum of whispered secrets and inside jokes, the weight of a dozen different glances stolen across crowded rooms. She closes the book, setting it aside, and pats the you-shaped imprint on the spread next to her. "Come here."

You bring a steaming cup over, handing it to her, adding a little more warmth to her side of the bed. An unneeded murmur of thanks, a smile that's brighter than any of the skyscrapers gleaming outside, and a careful sip.

You wait for her review.

A cool, clear, "Ah."

And as for your reward, she sets the mug down on her lap, closing her eyes and pursing her lips. Waiting, patiently.

It's built in you like a habit now—lean in, get the light peck you're owed. Gentle press against her lips, nose bumping up against her glasses, sweetness that makes her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink.

Just so fucking cute and domestic that it almost feels wrong.

The normalcy, you're realising—doing something that millions of other people do every single day—kisses that aren’t about fucking, power plays and games. Kisses that are just...kisses.

Mina's on the same wavelength, that's her thing now. Looking at you with a slanted smile. A little disbelieving, a little amused.

You're sure you're mirroring it back.

“This is... weird, right?” You finally say, breaking the silence. Feeling the weight of the question, the implication of what you’re really asking. Is this okay? Is it allowed? Can we put a name on this without the whole world imploding?

Mina's smile doesn't falter. "Kinda," she says, and her hand's slipping into yours, her thumb tracing little circles against your palm. “Very. But also, good.”

You nod, not quite believing it. You've had relationships (is that what you're calling this now?)—but none of them felt like this. Like, sure, she makes you hard, but fuck if she doesn't make you weak.

Pulling you into this loop of familiarity, learning things about her that you would've dismissed if it was anyone else. Not just the carnal things—the ones that make her thighs run with need, that make her chant your name like it’s the only word she knows.

Normal people things. Snack addictions, sleeping habits, temperature controls.

The mug goes to the bedside table, and Mina twists her body into yours, landing her head on your lap and curling her legs up so they stay on the bed.

"You know," she says, still holding your hand, fingers tracing up your forearm now, nails drawing in a light tattoo. "I thought that this wouldn't work out."

You mention the obvious. "Because you still, technically, have a boyfriend?"

Mina stretches herself out against your waist, incidental movements that just so happen to make you stir. "No, darling," she's saying, turning to look at you, making your heart stutter. "It's because you're you. Relationships just don’t seem to be in your nature."

You feign injury.  

Even though, truth be told, she has a point there. You’ve never been one for the quiet moments, for the mundane comforts, mornings next to someone you spent the night with.

Maybe it's your own guardrails you've put up, maybe it's some sappy Trojan Horse she's pushed through the gates of your stoic heart—but here you are, stroking her hair while she holds your hand, your fingers playing with the soft strands like you're trying to learn Braille.

"You know," she says, reaching it out to run her thumb down the line of your jaw, "guys like you are all the same."

You arch a brow. "I think I’ve heard this one before.”

"Let me finish," she says, "Obsessed with the thrill of the chase, with the idea of something you can't have. And when you finally get it, you just...disappear."

She grants you the headspace to ruminate over that one. 

"Are you saying I already have you?"

"Haven’t figured it out yet?" she whispers, shifting her weight on the bed. Another Mina special, the incidental movements, shirt pulling taut against her, and with benevolent grace, it slides down an inch. The swell of her breast revealed, an already pebbled nipple peeking out. A shy secret. As if.

And she knows. Mina knows what it takes to turn you on because, deep down, she’s the same. Different animals, same beasts, the roles could easily be flipped: her the billionaire, you the idol, and it would still end up the same.

You’re both chasers of thrills, craving the high of the untouchable, the unattainable.

Doing whatever it takes to feel alive—that's what it boils down to, isn't it?

"I meant it, you know," you're saying, exposing yourself, all gooey and raw. "Never once dreamt of owning you."

It's obvious where Mina's headed with this. So used to people just laying claim of her without even asking—like it's their fucking right. Believing that just because she’s in their vicinity, smiling all pretty and dressed up, she's fair game. Thinking the fame has done to her what it's done to so many others, turned them into commodities.

And maybe she's let them believe the fantasy, it's her job after all, to fuel the delusion and make it feel real. But never once did she truly belong to anyone but herself.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

Mina lifts herself off your lap, body bowing, leaving the shirt to ghost down her arms and leave her chest bare.

Closer still, until she's straddling your hips, thighs pressing down on either side of your legs, and oh, mystery solved, there was nothing under the shirt but her.

And again, Mina, on the subject of your title over her: "Not even if I wanted you to?"

—

(It takes the length of a phone call for Mina to be officially yours.

Brutal in her efficiency, cutting the guy down and pushing him off the cliff of the inevitable.

You're just as cruel, laughing between her thighs as she slurs vague platitudes, barely encroaching on an apology, uncaring bullets flying across borders.

And then the 'I can't' when prompted for a chance to negotiate, an 'I'm busy' when the pleas come, and a final 'just fucking give up already' when the desperation gets too much and he's becoming less and less important the further your tongue gets into her cunt.

Poor bastard doesn't even know he's not the only one getting fucked.)

—

You feel like you’ve earned the right to be a tad more reckless.

So, dates.

Conventional, yes, but fuck you could do with some of that now. You had the money, the power, and now you had the girl. So, secret dates, grand gestures, the whole nine yards.

And yet, each one was its own little disaster.

An example: the restaurant.

Michelin stars, gourmet courses, over-the-top bullshit that you unashamedly love. Booking out the entire joint for the night, only for it to all go haywire when Mina showed up in that dress; tight, tiny, black.

"Eyes up here, darling," is what she said, before, "Or, you know, don't. I like the attention."

Just fucking you all the way up, having you pushing her into a backroom before the wine was even poured. Ruining said dress, rucking it up to her waist, making it some poor drycleaner’s problem.

“I was never big on grand gestures,” she assures you, as you pepper her neck with kisses, hands curving around to her breasts on sheer instinct.

"Wish you'd told me that in advance."

"And miss out on this?" Mina groans something fierce when your fingers find purchase. “Never.”

It's just Mina and you, doing what you've done a dozen times over by now, having long blown past any insecurities that this might just be too good, too perfect, that one of you might be the first to bolt for the door and run.

“I swear to god,” Mina’s managing, as you’re shoving her panties to the side, because you’re both well aware that this has to happen right here, right now. “This cock is going to be the death of me.”

You chuckle against her throat. “Wouldn’t be a bad way to go though, right?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Says you.”

“Please, just—”

Your hips snap into her. She flinches. Screams your name so fucking loud.

Each and every one of the kitchen staff receives a very, very sizeable tip.

—

It becomes a problem.

Oddly enough, neither of you are at fault.

Leaked photos light up every website, tabloid, and social media platform in mere minutes—Mina and her ex, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the unmistakable blur of a bedroom in the background. Nothing too lurid, nothing too explicit—but just enough to get the world to gasp in collective shock.

The fucking coward did it. You never knew he had it in him.

Sure there's dating on the pictures. Years, probably, back to when their happiness couldn't be called into question, but it does its job.

The statements pointing this out do little to shift the public's attention though, they've already latched on to the chance to rip apart her spotless record. You’ve seen it before, a hundred times with a hundred different celebrities. The cycle of love turned to dust in the blink of a camera flash.

And yet despite all of this, despite the shitstorm that’s swirling around her, despite the radio silence you're expecting, not an hour passes before Mina's calling you again.

“I need you.”

“Then come over.”

—

Mina belongs here, it’s so obvious.

Walking through the rooms of your home like she’s always been there, like she’s what’s been missing.

None of the art on the walls, the books on the shelves, none of the sculptures worth more money than any person should ever see in their life—none of it make as much sense as she does here, in your space.

Ours, you’re already thinking.

While you’re staring at her, she’s taking it all in—every detail of your domain, eyes brushing over the aged furniture and modern finishes, each aspect of your home that you’ve curated as meticulously as you’ve cultivated your own reputation.

She doesn’t say a word about whatever conclusion she’s drawing—because she’s not the type to judge—she’s just curious. She’s always been curious.

And then she’s in your arms.

Hands looping around your neck as you hold her tight, like it’s been years instead of the mere days since you’ve seen her. Since you’ve felt her heat, heard her whimpers, felt her nails dig into your skin like she’s trying to slip in underneath.

“It was inevitable, right?” She whispers against your collarbone. “Something was bound to fuck this all up eventually. My life, yours. It was all too perfect.”

You hold her tight. Letting her sink into your embrace, disappear into your chest. She’s so small in your arms—not that she’s ever not been, but right now, it’s stark. Like she’s shrunk, folded herself into something more manageable, something easier to hide. Something that won’t be torn apart by the teeth of the media and the rabid fans.

Kiss the top of her head to make her relax a fraction, opening a pressure valve that releases a shaky exhale.

You point out, “It still is.”

Mina blinks up at you, and you pretend you don’t see the dampening in the corners of her eyes. “I need to do the whole apology tour now. Keep my head down, hide my face. That’s what they’re saying anyway. What they expect.”

You shrug. “Could hide out here.”

That makes Mina smile, laugh even, colouring her features with something far more impactful than any of the decor. “And, I'm guessing, fucking each other’s brains out from sunrise to sunset?"

"There'll be a couple of meals in between. You may be surprised to learn I make a mean bowl of ramen."

Mina laughs again, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world—like the chiming of a bell that’s only meant for you. She looks at you, really looks, and you can see the wheels turning in her mind, the genuine consideration she's giving your proposal.

“What do you say?”

“I—”

Before she can finish, you add, “I can handle our little problem. Just leave it to me.”

Mina blinks. There’s the curiosity again. “Handle?”

“Yeah,” you reply, vaguely amused. Something darker in the back of your throat. “I know some people. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Mina stares at you aghast, the smile slipping from her lips. Wondering if she might have missed something in the reality of the billionaire with a silver tongue and a penchant for ruining dresses.

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’m kidding, Mina. Jesus, the look on your face. I’m not going to have the guy killed.”

Mina rolls her eyes. Slaps your chest with a little more force than intended.

You add, with a Disney Villain-worthy ominous tone, “For now.”

“You ass,” she says, but she’s smiling again, the tension all but dissipated.

“Not even I’m capable of having that sort of thing arranged. Well, maybe I am, just never tried, so—” you begin, only to stop immediately at the curving of Mina’s lips. “I was just planning on doing a bit of spin. Tap some of our PR Wizards, maybe offer the wolves something juicier. Whitewash the whole thing—shut him down.”

And a cherry on top of your whole plan—

"Make him wish I'd kill him instead."

Mina’s expression shifts, taking pause to study your face, your words. It’s the pragmatism that gets her, you think—but it’s baked into who you are. You don’t get to a billion dollars by making friends.

As a point of clarification, she asks, "What are you going to offer the press? I mean, you’re not going to leak dirt on someone else, are you?"

You shrug, an easy smile playing on your lips, "I was thinking we could just go public with us. Offer our whole thing."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"My jokes usually make you laugh."

Mina takes her time to ponder this, to consider what you’re actually saying. To process the idea of turning all this—the sneaking around, the private moments, the stolen kisses—into something so exposed. Something translated and made palatable for public consumption, to be picked apart by the vultures skirting the edges of the media.

And there’s fear there too. That the thrill could wear off for her again, the exhilaration could evaporate, and the boredom would settle in.

Or it could be a whole brand-new opportunity. Replacing one thrill with another, the rush that comes with being seen together, the excitement of the chase being replaced with the passion of the capture.

She asks, slowly, carefully choosing each word, doing her best to avoid setting off a bomb that could send this whole thing into a downward spiral. "Is this what you want to do?"

You pull her closer, fit her body flush against yours, and bring your lips down onto hers. You let them linger, let her sigh, let her melt and keen and smile against your mouth.

"Darling," you murmur against her lips, "I've been ready to tell the whole world since the moment I sat down next to you."

—

Sometimes, the conventional ways are the best.

Stumbling through your house—kissing her hard in the hallway, losing her skirt in the kitchen, tearing off her shirt at the top of the staircase. Carrying her past the threshold of your bedroom and leaving her panties at the door; truly letting her into your world in every way, shape, and form.

Holding her close, one hand at her waist, the other looping around her chest. Kissing into her neck as you lay her down onto your mattress, getting up close and personal until it’s all Mina, all the sweetness and heat of her, the richness of her perfume that’s become her signature.

The red of her blush, her lips, the marks you’re leaving on her skin. The white of her throat, her collarbone, the bra that’s half on, half of.

Pinning her wrists over her head, keeping her still, watching her pupils dilate.

Fucking flawless. Every inch, every glorious detail. Underneath you, at your mercy, already staining your sheets with her need.

And then, a beg:

“Please.”

“Greedy.”

“It’s how you made me.”

Your other hand ventures lower, drifting down her stomach, holding against her abs, leaving your fingertips to ghost over her mound.

She shudders at your touch.

You let her know, “I wasn’t complaining.”

And your tongue is on hers, soft to start, relaxing into familiar patterns, swipes of reintroductions, until Mina’s arching her back, urging you on. But you’re greedy in your own way; wanting to take your time, wanting to extract all these sighs and moans straight from the source.

Only, Mina’s having none of it.

“You’re really going to torture me after the day I’ve had?”

You quirk an eyebrow, push your thumb down against her clit. Applying enough pressure to make her hips buck.

"Torture is a strong word, darling."

Mina's huffs as you hold her there, keeping her locked in place and at your mercy. Wriggling under your grasp, but not making any real effort to escape. After all, where would the fun be in that?

"Fine," she's relenting, eyes slipping shut, unable to hide the smile that’s making its way onto her face. "Call it what you want. Just—more."

"Then let's just call it a pleasant distraction."

Your lips are together once more, your kiss quickly turning from something sweet to something a lot more demanding. Throwing Mina a bone, pressing into her a declaration of intent that has her wild for you.

You take your fingers, slide it down, swiping through her folds. Dancing around her entrance, seeing how nice and slick she already is for you, feeding that gnat in the back of your head that urges you to just fill her whole. Right before pressing up into her cunt.

“Yes,” Mina whispers into your mouth, hips rising to meet your hand, helpless little shivers around your first, then second digit—pushing until you’re knuckle deep inside her heat, making her squirm and cry, “Just stretch this fucking pussy, please.”

“Oh, you’re so wet for me,” you say, like it's a surprise, like she's ever not, like she doesn't part her legs and beg for you to take the invitation to her cunt every single time.

And Mina’s reaffirming, “Of course I am, I’m always—” but she never gets to finish her sentence, because you’re sliding a third finger in, and she’s trying so hard to keep it all together despite how determined you are to pull it all apart.

You’re too attentive—watching her face, every micro expression. Watching for every twitch, every whine, every cry that gets stuck in her throat when she tries to swallow it down.

There’s beauty in all of it, every single time, you could never get enough of it. Been burned into you now—what it takes to make Mina come undone. The right ways to touch her, the spots that make her preen. Where to be gentle, when to be rough, how to keep her guessing.

It’s all here, now, distilled to its basest elements, and it doesn’t even take much. You’re too good at this, know her far too well to need anything other than the sound of her breath to dictate your pace.

Your thumb plays at her swollen clit, doing nothing but pressing down as your fingers saw in and out of her slippery cunt, making her clench around you like she always does. Faster and faster, until she’s crying for it, shivering and trembling underneath you, struggling against your hold on her wrists because she's dying for something to hold onto.

“You—you’re too much,” Mina pants, because that’s all she can do now as you push into her with purpose. So, so fucking wet, creaming around your fingers, pooling in the palm of your hand. “Too—too—too fucking—”

Losing control over her own limbs, cumming with a sharp cry, levitating off the bed as your hand works magic between her legs, needing a hard kiss to ease her back down to Earth.

The aftershocks still roll through her body, leaving her with these tiny, frantic whimpers. You keep her pinned, soothe her with your thumb at her clit, padding around in gentle circles, feeling her spasm and pulse around your fingers.

Your kiss ends on that high note, parting lips to give Mina a chance at a complete inhale. Her chest is heaving, nipples poking out of the top of her bra, skin already sticky with sweat. Eyes opening, hazed over with need and the beginnings of tears.

“I—I need more.”

Hands let go of her wrists, fingers slide out of her cunt, and you lean back to watch her try to compose herself. It’s a battle she’s not winning.

Mina’s blinking up at you, trying to catch her breath, trying to remember how to do anything other than be fucked into oblivion by you. You help her—leaning over, thumbs hooking under her bra straps. Pulling it down with a gentle tug that makes her arch into the motion, makes her chest spill out and your mouth water.

You take the chance to admire her. To drink her in, appreciate her the way she deserves to be appreciated��a masterpiece spread out on your bed, naked and needy.

There’s the intoxication, knowing you’re the one that did that to her, knowing that you’re the one that’s going to do it again. Over and over again.

“If I have to wait another second, I’m going to scream,” Mina says, the demand losing its edge in a whine.

You chuckle, press an open-mouthed kiss onto her breast, sucking a nipple between your teeth.

Sometimes, you just can’t resist.

“Let’s not pretend that isn’t exactly what I want.”

“Make it happen, then.”

Mina holds position as you pull back, keeping her hands over her head, keeping as still as a statue as you come to your knees over her. Eyes on you as your shirt, your belt, your pants go. Eyes on your cock as your briefs fall away, leaving it standing tall and thick and ready for her.

There’s power dynamics at play here—how Mina’s so vulnerable to you, how she’s laid herself out, unwilling to move until you tell her to. She understands it, implicitly. Knows she’s playing right into your hands, forced to wait while you let the anticipation build.

You hold your cock above her, stroke it carefully. Watch her eyes track it. See her gulp.

And she begs, again, “Please,” softer now, the unmistakable tremble in her voice. "I just—I need it so fucking bad."

Whether on purpose or by instinct, her legs splay, presenting her pussy, glistening with want. There’s the pulse in her clit, the need dripping over her folds—you feed the agony just a little more, hovering over the entrance, letting the tip of your cock graze over it. Teasing, taunting.

"Beg for it."

Mina opens her mouth, but she fails to summon the words. Just leaves her lips hanging open, leaving you an opening for your fingers to push in and try to help her find the right plea.

Her tongue flicks out, licks at your digits, the taste of her arousal still thick on them. The wetness of her tongue as she sucks, the suction of her lips as she envelopes each finger, one by one. Savouring her own flavour with deep, longing slurps, with grateful hums resonating around your fingers.

Leaking down the tip of your cock, cunt getting wetter and wetter the longer she’s denied. Making you throb against her, making your hips jerk and bump dangerously close to where she needs you to be.

But you still don’t enter her. You just wait until she’s done, until your fingers are clean and wet, and she’s left a trail of kisses up to your wrist.

It’s then that you drag your fingers out from her lips and demand of her once more:

“Beg.”

And this time, Mina’s able to say it clearly, confidently, right from her chest—

“I need you inside me. Need to feel you so deep inside me that I can’t tell where I end and you begin. I want to make you cum so hard you’ll never want to leave, want to leave your mark so deep inside me that even if you do, I’ll still feel you.”

Each word, a fucking gift.

And her reward—

A hard, quick plunge straight into her cunt. Inside her, instantly buried, immediately unbearable. Just too good.

Mina can’t do anything, just dig her nails into the sheets and try not to scream at the suddenness of it, at the way you complete her without any warning at all.

It all just ripples through her, a second orgasm already possessing her and forcing her into seizure. Can’t even hold it together—can’t keep the moans contained, can’t keep herself steady—can only just lock eyes with you and hope that you’re seeing it all, hope that you’re feeling it too.

Mina’s got no control around you anymore, none at all.

“Your cock,” she’s saying, repeating it over and over. Like it’s brand new to her, like it hasn’t ever left her wrecked a hundred times over.  “Your fucking cock.”

Words punctuated by the slaps of your hips, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding, of Mina welcoming every stroke of your cock inside her. So fucking tight, gloved around you like it was forged specifically for your cock; not for anything else but you, only you.

“So hard, my God.” Mina’s hands clasp behind your neck, needing a firm hold on something solid and real. “So fucking hard for me, so—so—fuck—”

Her lips are everywhere, a flurry of butterfly kisses across your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the edges of your jawline. Crazed, unbridled assault of affection. Disarming, incredibly hot. Mina doing her best to mark you up before she’s torn away again.

It’s far too early in the processions—habit would usually have her playing it cool, trying to keep up the façade of control, hold onto shreds of dignity, until she’s unravelling completely and begging you to fuck her harder, deeper.

But now, she’s just letting you have her.

No games, no pretences.

Just you, and her, and this wild, hopeless need to feel good, to be consumed by this.

“Yours,” Mina’s whispering, voice cracking around the edges, “All yours.”

And you know it. Have known it. Had it signed and sealed in ink since the very first time she told you. When you made her knees buckle and eyes water as you took her in every way possible. Since she called out for you, said your name into the quiet of the night like it was a secret she never wanted to keep.

Yet it’s hearing it now, the sum of all these moments stacked on top of each other; the haunts that you’d frequent, the private corners that you’d made yours, the endless phone calls and messages and photos that could fill entire warehouses with their filth.

Finally here—both of you, panting, sweating, sex thick in the air. The world outside forgotten.

Fucking Mina so hard, so deep, euphoria shooting straight through you each time your cock bottoms out inside her. The softness of her cunt, its heat, its creaminess, its fucking divinity. Leaking out all around you and squeezing you so good that it’s a miracle that you’re still coherent enough to speak.

But you do, with a gruff, “Already knew that, darling.”

Mina’s laughing, because that’s the type of high you’re giving her. Even with the way you’re stretching her open, even with her eyes barely open and her toes curling into the bed—she’s laughing because it’s the only thing she can do. Because it’s all so absurdly perfect that she can’t find the energy to do anything else.

“All this, all of you,” you’re leaning in, at the base of her throat, licking a stripe up to her earlobe. Drumming the words into her skin, until she shivers. “Every part of you. All mine.”

Simple words that hold so much sway over her, that could pull her apart or build her right back up. Words that make Mina clench around you, make her cunt grasp you so tightly as if she’s trying to make them real.

“Always,” she’s heaving, “Always yours.”

And there’s this look on her face, like she’s lost in a dream—eyes glassy and all fogged up, breath hot against your shoulder. Glowing under the dimmed lights, making the sweat pooling at the base of her throat shimmer.

Keeping your hand there, at her neck, like it’s the only thing keeping her from floating away. Ruining her. Because really, it’s all for her. All of this is all for her pleasure, her satisfaction.

You’re just along for the ride, so fucking lucky to have her like this. So impossibly beautiful, just knowing she exists would drive you insane if you didn’t get to be with her. Didn’t get a chance at this pussy, so perfect, dripping so much, made so hot for you and only you. Your own personal slutty cunt.

It’s the way her legs wrap around your hips—the smoothness of her skin, the power in those thighs, holding you like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. Like she’s terrified you’ll leave her like this, frantic and wretched and so, so fucking wet.

The newest picture you’re painting, your magnum opus in her name—her tits bouncing with each thrust, nipples stiff and flicking in the air. The yielding of her back, bending just so she can accommodate that extra length of you inside her. And her stomach—fuck, those abs. Tightening and loosening, shaking with every hit of your hips, with every sharp gasp of air.

Demanding of you. Cum for me. Please. Now.

“I need this. Exactly this from now on,” Mina’s declaring, stuttering it like you’re fucking every syllable out of her tightness. “Just you fucking me. Whenever we’re together, every second we get alone—fuck—"

And you’re nodding because you’re always right there with her, always on the same wavelength, thinking the exact same fucking thing.

“Keep filing me up until I can’t take it anymore. Until I’m screaming so loud, I can’t even hear myself think—”

Breathless words that flood your ears, that Mina needs to get out, needs to make sure you hear. Absorbed straight into your bloodstream, pumping into your cock, fed right back into her cunt. So fucking tight. So downright incredible that you’re speeding up, driving in deep, as deep as you could possibly go.

“Until I’m so full of you that I forget my own name—forget any other name but yours—until I—until I—”

A nasty hit makes her body curve and rise, makes her pussy clamp around you, in warning of the orgasm to come, the one you’re both hurtling towards with a kind of reckless abandon that’s become second nature.

“Until I—please—just always make me feel this way—”

“You will,” you promise, meaning it, fucking it into her like your life depends on it. Like you need it to survive, because maybe you do. Maybe you’ve never truly lived until you’ve felt Mina’s cunt quiver around your cock like this, until you’ve heard her beg for you like you’re the only thing she needs to breathe. And again, for good measure, “you will."

And oh, that’s all it takes. That’s enough to have Mina spilling.

“Cumming,” is her proclamation. Repeated, ad infinitum, just, “Cumming, cumming, cumming.”

All over your cock, all around your cock. Cunt strangling you with the force of it.

And this is where you decide Mina’s most beautiful.

When she’s consumed by climax, when she’s held prisoner by it, when she’s just nothing but a canvas for you to leave your marks all over.

“Feel so good—so fucking good—”

It’s the best kind of challenge, pushing her through it.

Worshipping her in all the ways that count, treating Mina in ways woman like her should never be treated. Tearing an angel down from the heavens just to hammer her cunt into submission, and being thanked for it afterwards.

“God,” Mina’s trying, voice rasping and broken, “I—fuck—I can’t—”

You take her, hand wrapping around her tits, pinching, rolling, teasing nipples until they’re as tight as her cunt around you. Leaning in and capturing her lips, drinking down her whimpers with a kiss so deep you can taste your name on her tongue.

Fucking her, ruining that tight, little pussy, through every wave that crashes down over her, that burns her up from the inside and makes her so Goddamn hot.

Leaving her in disbelief that it could ever feel this good again, that there's a light at the end of this tunnel, that there's a life after being fucked so thoroughly by your cock.

Holding her through it, preventing her from crumbling into a million overstimulated pieces. Slowing down the pace of your hips with steady, deliberate thrusts until you’re just inside her. Cock throbbing, bathing in her heat, waiting.

Mina stirs, eyes flutter open, meeting yours. “Cum inside me. Wherever you’d like.”

There’s only one real choice. Mina knows this as well as you do.

Your cock leaves her cunt, slick with her juices, her cum. Proof of your dominion over her body, gleaming along your shaft.

Nothing but bliss on Mina’s face, so well-fucked and satisfied and just plain happy that it’s almost a surprise she hasn’t melted away into a puddle. She’s smiling, looking up at you through her lashes, sweet and soft and perfect.

Turning herself over, bowing down on her knees, pointing her ass up at you like it’s the universe itself handing you a present and saying, ‘Here, this is yours.’

You can’t resist that kind of temptation.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Mina tells you, rolling her hips higher still, flaring out her hips, treating you to the perfectly round globes of her ass. “Waiting for you to take me. However you want. Make it hurt so good. Make me remember how you feel.”

Her hands reach back, delicate fingers spreading plump cheeks apart. The tight, pink ring of her ass winking at you. A sight that never gets old, a vision that’s forever carved into the back of your eyeballs.

One last request. “Please.”

Your cock pushes in.

“Thank you.”

Right away, it’s too fucking much. Your cock breaching through her asshole, pushing in inch by inch. Slow and torturous, the kind of thing that makes you want to yell.

Then the first thrust—that first hit, like a narcotic, straight through your veins, every single time. Feeling it, sensations so intense, so sharp, that you forget to even breathe.

And Mina’s crying. Crying out, muffled by the pillow she’s biting into. Yet still, pushing back against you, urging you deeper, even though she’s coming apart, even though she’s shaking from the sheer effort of having you fill her.

“Darling,” you call to her, “you’re doing so good,” because she is. Good, good, so fucking good for letting you split her in two like this. For letting you ruin her in all the best ways.

The second thrust is easier, smoother. Body giving in to your demands, stretching around your cock like it always does, like it’s made to do. To bend and flex to your whims and desires.

With every push, every retreat, every agonisingly, achingly slow grind into her ass, you’re nearing that rapturous end.

“So fucking good for me, Mina. Your ass is so tight around me. Such a good girl.” You’re grunting now, trying to ease her into it, to build up to the point where you can pound her, push her like you really want to.

Mina’s nodding, eyes screwed shut, sunken in the way you’re stretching her out. It’s a familiar feeling, having her ass opening up for you. A dance you’ve performed so often it’s almost muscle memory—each step painstakingly learned; each move carefully choreographed.

You’re easing into her, slow, so fucking slow that it’s a wonder that either of you doesn’t implode with want. But Mina’s good, so good, letting out these tiny, shuddering breaths that you feel down to the marrow of your bones.

And then, as your is fully seated in her ass—

“Don’t hold back,” Mina says, quietly, barely audible, but the need is crystal clear. “All of it, please.”

Hand in her hair, hand at her waist. Gripping into her, guiding her and then fucking her, really, truly flooding her ass with your cock, disappearing into her tightness until your hips are slapping into hers.

So pretty, even like this, even when her moans are getting louder, borderline screams that are cut off by the cotton of the pillow, her knuckles turning white in the effort. Her back tenses, muscles rippling underneath your palms.

She dips a hand underneath her, between her legs. Fingers at her cunt, whirling around her clit, doing all she can to keep up with you.

“Feels fucking amazing. Your ass, Mina,” you’re trying to say, but it’s coming out all gravelly and thick. “So fucking tight for me.”

It’s the one through-line that’s kept steady over these months. Mina’s transcendental beauty, Mina’s razor-sharp intelligence, Mina’s pussy that’s always, perpetually yours. All these things; but it’s Mina’s ass—that perfect, juicy, heart-shaped, fucking flawless ass that keeps you up at night.

Every time you’re buried inside, it’s like coming home to something sacred. Tightness gripping you, ass swallowing your cock in waves, the kind of feeling that makes you believe in a higher power—because nothing so divine could possibly be man-made.

“Fuck, I just—” Mina’s breathing out, quick huffs because that’s all she can manage, “just love this so fucking much. Love how you feel in my fucking ass.”

Her hand’s working overtime now, circling her clit with a fervour that’s almost religious. Pussy starting to leak again, juices running down her thighs, mixing with the sweat, pooling at her knees. Fuck, the way she’s touching herself while taking you in, so willingly, so wantonly, so utterly destroyed for you—she’s going to cum again, you can feel it. And you’re not far behind.

“I think I’m going to—fuck, I only just—but I’m going to—again—you’re going to make me—again—” She’s squealing, half-mumbling, full-crying, and your heart nearly bursts out of your chest because it’s all for you.  

You’re not even managing anything other than desperate thrusts, just fucking her with everything you have—like you’re trying to claim her inside and out, trying to leave your fingerprints on every part of her so everyone will know she’s been yours all along.

“Please, please, please,” again and again, stuttering out, “Just—just—just—”

Just keep going, keep pushing into her until she’s shaking, until she’s pleading for you to stop, to let her breathe, because she’s about to fucking break.

Or, really:

Keep going and never, ever stop.

The hand in her hair tightens, pulling her back, making her arch. That perfect spine, the curve that’s painted by God himself. Kisses into her shoulder, into the crook of her neck, making her whimper.

“Keep fucking me. Like this—like this—God—I’m going to—again—”

Pulling her closer to you, so you can feel the tremors starting from her core, spreading out like wildfire. Pushing her hand away, taking over between her legs—rubbing, teasing, circling her cunt and pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Fucking her so deeply that you can feel the first quivers of her orgasm from the inside out, daring to take over her body again.

“Keep fucking—touching me, fill me up—just don’t—please, I need it—”

A final plea, her last rites, before she’s lost.

“Cumming—cumming again—please, oh, please—oh—”

Mina’s body goes lax, a ragdoll in your arms. But you keep fucking her through it. Through the quakes and shivers, through the cries—through the crying out. Pleading. Pleading for you to follow her into oblivion.

And fuck. If you’re not right there with her.

You’re close, chasing her, feeling her orgasm, feeling it coil around your cock and pump through her veins and into yours. Feel her—her body, her muscles, her cunt—tightening, tightening, tightening around you until it’s unbearable.

“Cum for me—with me—” she’s repeating, her newest mantra, “cum inside me. Give it to me—please, I need it—please—so badly—”

Begging, dying for it. Willing, wanting to do anything for it.

But she doesn’t need to—you can’t fucking hold on any longer.

“Mina—fuck—"

You slam into her, and finally burst.

Filling her ass with your cum, feeling it spurt into her, thick and hot. Pumping into her, over and over, getting wrung dry by her ass, cumming so hard it feels like your bones might shatter.

Cumming until your vision swims, until the architecture in your knees threaten to give out, until all you can do is hold onto her hips and keep her in place, keep her right there, impaled on your cock, until every single drop of cum has found a home inside her ass.

Until you’re so sensitive it’s almost painful. Until the orgasm has passed over the two of you and left you feeling like you might dissolve into nothing but pure sensation.

“Christ,” you manage to get out, the word tearing out of you like it’s being ripped from your chest. Holding Mina close—embracing her, seeing just how much she’s loving it. How thankful she is. Taking it all, soaking it all in, moans turning into whimpers that you’d swear are prayers of gratitude.

Body limp and strung out, fucked so hard she can’t even hold herself up anymore—Mina collapses into the bed, pulling you with her, your cock still buried deep inside her.

Like the first time, like every time, it’s a complete fucking disaster.

Tangled up in sheets, in each other. Sticky with sweat, stickier with cum. And Mina turns her head to look at you, just so pleased, and so gleefully satisfied.

You lean in and kiss her, slow and deep, resisting the urge to stir, to roll her onto her back and start this whole thing over again. Claim her once, twice, a dozen times more.

But you don’t. You just lay there, breathing into her neck, letting all of this, your orgasms, your bliss, your absolute contentment roll through you.

There’ll be time to keep going, to keep fucking her. Give her the same tour of your house that she gave you that first night.

Eat her out in the kitchen. Fuck her into the sofa. And yeah, introduce her to the balconies on the higher floors.

For now though, there’s Mina, lips parting with yours, looking at you with a smile that’s this original blend of lust and love and admiration. “You really know how to ruin a girl, you know that?”

You chuckle, picking a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Just trying to scratch an itch.”

—

Everybody loves a love story.

And yours is packaged up so nicely, polished and made shiny and perfect for the public to see.

It's the type of story the media dies for—a tale of modern romance, woven through the glitz and glamour of celebrity life. The cold-blooded billionaire who had his heart stolen by one of the nation’s daughters, and then chased her across continents in order to get it back.

You and Mina, becoming the ultimate power couple—the kind that makes the paparazzi's cameras click in unison and tabloids sell by the millions.

Together at every high-profile event, her hand nestled in the crook of your arm, your thumb tracing lazy circles on her wrist—a secret promise of the bruises she’ll wear under her designer dresses. A whispered reminder of the things you’ll do to her when the lights go out and the world isn’t watching.

But nobody sees that. The public sees the smiles, the kisses, the sweet little glances that pass between you—and they eat it all up.

They'll never see the way she begs for your cock, the way you fuck her until she can't walk straight, the way she rides you until all you know is her name. They don’t know that it wasn’t love at first sight—it was lust, paroxysms of it, pure and raw and unbridled.

But here you are.

Mina, in your bathroom, smiling at you through the mirror. Dressed to the nines, looking like a fucking dream. Making it so obvious now that you wonder how you missed it at the start. The way she looked at you that first night, the way she looked. It was all there, laid out in big bold letters, all caps, telling you that this is what you’ve been searching for—what you needed all along.

That dress she’s wearing—some dazzling shade of green. Olive? Celadon?

“Emerald,” she smiles, catching you staring. “It’s emerald, darling.”

You grin back. “Then it should match.”

Mina’s eyes flick to the box in your hand, curiosity piqued.

“Got you something.”

You hand her the box—a simple, muted green velvet, lacking any markers or logos to give away the contents. Ergo, it’s really fucking expensive.

She takes it out of your hands. Opens it, and her breath catches.

“It’s—” Mina whispers, lifting a necklace from the box. A simple, stunning piece. A thin diamond band with a solitary jade teardrop hanging from the center.

"Yours."

Mina holds it up against the light, seeing how it dances through the stone like it’s alive. When her eyes come back to yours, she’s beaming—a smile so wide it makes you wish you had your phone ready to snap a photo.

“Help a girl out, would you?” she says, turning her back to you, sweeping her hair over her bare shoulder.

You step forward, kissing the skin there, feeling the softness of her neck, the pulse of her vein. Your hands come up to fasten the necklace around her, the coldness of the diamonds brushing against your knuckles.

“You know, there’s one thing I was wondering about,” you murmur, letting the jade rest atop her throat.

Mina giggles, tilts her head slightly to the side. The jewels sparkle. “Oh?”

“That first night. The gala. You came alone.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Mina repeats, amused. Happy to have her own little secret, the one thing you've yet to pry out of her between the sheets. She regards you through the reflection, a twinkle in her eye that says she’s been wondering what took you so long to ask.

“Yeah, I’ve never quite figured it out. I mean I know why you were alone. But why did you come at all? What were you doing there, just sitting all pretty and by yourself. It felt so wrong to me at the time.”

That makes Mina laugh, making you feel somewhat silly to even ask. She spins on her heels, facing you; the necklace sitting perfectly against her skin. She runs her fingers over the chain, ending at the pendant. Tapping it. Once. Twice.

And she doesn’t even need to ask you if it looks good on her or if it suits her because she knows. She can tell by the look on your face.

She wears it like a fucking collar.

“Why?” Mina says again, stretching the syllable out long and wide, until you’re staring at her lips, knowing you’re about to kiss her again, knowing that you may very well not make it out of the house tonight, likely not even make it out of the bathroom.

You’ll be ruining that dress, fucking her against the sink, pushing her up into the mirror, kissing into the top of her spine and repeating over and over again—mine, mine, mine.

“Because you invited me.”

[dollyichi]

DUMB PETALS ᯓ★ bakugou katsuki. fluff / f ! reader in mind (just in case) / in my head i want them to be engaged / katsuki who amps up his acts of service and gifts because you’re engaged :p / not proofread

katsuki who says “huh? don’t be stupid.” when you ask for flowers but deep down he’s really pissed off cause you beat him to it.

now, he has to one up you.

you don’t get any flowers at all, it’s been a week since your request too. you begin to wonder if he just didn’t want to bother, which made you a little bit sad. his affection never changed though. you think that maybe, he just didn’t have the time to since the demand for heroes were high recently.

then one day he tells you to wear something nice and get in the car. though you’re still a little sulky, thinking about how he ignored your request (you never brought it up again). he pulls you up from the bed to change “stop acting like a brat.” he says while pulling down your top from your head acting difficult and having him dress you himself. (vocally complains, internally is satisfied).

and he drives, acting all casual, acting like normal and you didn’t know why he wanted to leave so suddenly, nor where he wanted to go.

parks somewhere, gets out, opens your door before he leads you to where he wanted you to be. and when you reach the destination your eyes widen from shock.

“here’s your dumb flowers. a whole fucking field of them.” he says acting all tough, but seeing your reaction he can’t help but say it with a soft smile.

and you look at the pretty field of your favorite flowers (which you never specified, by the way) and you’re not sure how this was even possible but he was always able to, and you’re so grateful for him.

before you know it, you’re looking at him as your lips quivered, unaware how you’re tearing up because of this.

katsuki pulls you into a warm hug while the lovely scent of its petals flew around you both. “aww well aren’t you so fucking romantic?” and he couldn’t help but chuckle while you sniffle in between words.

“yeah yeah, i love you too.” pulling you in a gentle kiss.

you took so many pictures with him in the field. he even brought a basket for you so you can pick them to bring home.

now you have to be extra careful asking for something. maybe you should just stick to giving hints again. besides, he’ll always know what you exactly want.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : they are two wolves inside me. katsuki and his simplistic way to show his affection, and katsuki with grand gestures there is no in between and today i chose the latter

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters That Are Big of Heart and Dumb of Ass

Pairing: Vi, Sevika, Vander, Jayce, Loris, Ambessa x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, flirting, cuddles, kissing, sparing, muscles, protectiveness

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: This came to me today during my work break. I love himbos and whatever the female version of it is!

PURE OF HEART: She will do anything, put herself in any kind of danger to protect you. Vi is ready to get into a fight with anyone, stand up to anyone if they're bothering you. The bruises might be there after but she knows you'll help her get patched up. Depending on where the bruises are she might get some kisses.

DUMB OF ASS: Charges head first into any situation and that more often than not gets her hurt. One would think she learned to use hear head a bit more by now. And just in terms of headbutting her opponent. However she defends her attitude by saying that she's the muscle here, so you should let her take care of things her way.

PURE OF HEART: First of all she doesn't want anyone knowing she has a soft spot for you. She is very aggressive in her flirting both in public and in private but when you're up close, in her lap she will whisper sweet nothings into your ear. After which she will bite it. Don't blame her, she has an image to uphold.

DUMB OF ASS: Sevika has always been a badass in Zaun, but not for her brains. As respected as she is some also see her as a glorified bodyguard that's now dating her boss's cute secretary. She hears these rumors of course but they don't phase her when she's had a few shots of her favorite drink. Not her best moment.

PURE OF HEART: He is a family man to the bone. And he sees you as his wife even though you're not officially married yet. It won't stop him from grabbing you around the hips and pulling you into a kiss, his tongue tasting of tabaco and your favorite drink. Yes, your favorite, because he wants to taste good when he kisses you.

DUMB OF ASS: While Vander might be one of the de facto leaders in Zaun he's made his fair share of dumb choices. He's forgotten to lock up more than once, leading to the people thinking the bar open and he walked out in his underwear. What made it more embarrassing is that you were right behind him, wearing just his shirt.

PURE OF HEART: Everyone who met Jayce even once can see that he has a heart of gold. There isn't a challenge he won't try to take out, be it with brains or brawn. Knowing he's smart hasn't stopped you from visiting him a few times in the forge and appreciating the way the sweat rolls down his muscled body. He even flexes for you.

DUMB OF ASS: The amount of times he accidentally burned himself because he was too busy making out with you is astounding. He picks you up easily enough. But then backs up a bit too much, touching or stepping too close to the heat of the forge. Either that or he knocks important tools down when he places you on his table.

PURE OF HEART: No one's got your back like Loris has your back. He's is one of the most supportive boyfriends you could ask for, husband material really. Whenever he notices you're having a bad day he will beckon you over and scoop you into his big arms. You're not getting away from him or his cuddles until you feel better.

DUMB OF ASS: Among the Enforcers he has always been known as the muscle, and as more than a bit of drinker. But he also tells the best stories. He can be a little crude sometimes, flirting with you and forgetting there are other people in the room. The next morning everyone is smirking at him and he has no idea why.

PURE OF HEART: Ambessa will crush anyone who has anything bad to say about her, her family, or anyone in her army. Her strength is in her physique, strategy and loyalty of her people. But on occasion she can show her softer side, when it's just the two of you. It's one of her weaknesses, that cute smile of yours that she would do anything for.

DUMB OF ASS: One of her favorite ways to flirt, and have foreplay, is to spar with you. However that tends to attract more than a few eyes. She always acts insanely possessive over you in those moments, her head still in the fight but also getting in between you and her soldiers. it ends up looking a bit like a dance, much to everyone's amusement.

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 3

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.4k A/N: This is the final part to this mini-series! I meant to upload it last night but I added in some things last minute. Thank yall so much for all the love on the first two parts, and thank you for reading!! As always, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz @batmandallyboy

Part 2

You remained holed up in your room all day, alternating between sobbing and staring blankly at the wall. No matter what transpired, your life was irreversibly altered. Even if you gave away the baby and came home, you would still be the loose hussy. The unruly girl. Doomed to a life of being a spinster and an example to the younger girls in town.

At some point you started praying, hoping God would hear you and somehow lift you from this awful predicament.

All too soon, Elisabeth knocked on the door, saying you were being summoned to the sitting room. You were on edge; it felt like you could feel your individual neurons pulsing and transmitting a network of regret all over your body.

You dragged your feet downstairs and trudged to the sitting room, feeling like you were approaching the guillotine. 

Your two executioners sat on the couch. Your mother had an angry, nasty look on her face while your father seemed a bit apprehensive. It was clear she hadn’t told him yet, choosing instead to let him wonder.

“Sit down,” your mother said icily.

You sat. 

“Our lovely daughter has something to tell us, darling,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. 

You were starting to think she was genuinely evil. You kept silent. Lord, save me. 

“Go on, don’t be shy.” Your mother chuckled. “Or shall I?”

There was no way you were going to admit to your father what you’d done. Eating nails would be preferable to this.

She scoffed. “Alright then. Our daughter…this woman…has gone and got herself with child.”

Both you and your father flinched, him with surprise and you with shame. You bowed your head low. Your secret was out in the open now. 

“With child?” he repeated incredulously. “How?”

How, indeed.

“That is the question,” your mother said. “She won’t tell me who the father is, or she doesn’t know.”

Your father struggled to form words. You didn't dare meet their gazes.

“Is this true?” he finally asked you.

Of course it was true. It was the worst, most painful truth of your life. “Yes,” you admitted in a tiny voice.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I just don't understand how this could happen,” he remarked. “What happened to our little girl?”

You hadn’t been a little girl in a long time, but you didn’t bother pointing this out.

“Do you have any idea who the father is?” your mother demanded. “Or are you such a loose hussy that it could be any man in town? Is that what you’ve been doing every time you sneak out? Answer me!” 

I hate you.

You put your head in your hands and sobbed. 

Your mother sighed. “Now I suppose you’ll wash my feet with your tears next? Stop with the crocodile tears. If you thought yourself mature enough to partake in such activities, you’re surely smart enough to know the consequences.”

The tears came harder and faster. You could barely stand to be here any longer. This was pure torture. You just wanted…well, what you wanted was far away right now, and also the cause of your problems. 

“I’m sending you to the nunnery,” your mother announced, raising her voice above your noisy sobs. “Until this…issue is resolved. You clearly need the fear of God put into you.”

Anything but that! “No!” you cried. “No, please, I can’t! Mother, please!”

“We have no other choice,” she replied flatly. “I will not allow you to bring shame upon this family. Now, you’re dismissed back to your room and don’t you dare try to leave and corrupt anyone else with the knowledge of your actions. Just the sight of you disgusts me.”

“Father,” you pleaded. “Don’t let her do this!”

Your father, the coward, was already standing up. “Well, I don’t think I should disagree with your mother-”

“To your room,” your mother spoke angrily.

You ran out of the room, despaired, fearful, and angry all at once.

It had been less than 3 days since your parents were made aware of your pregnancy, and your mother moved like she had firecrackers under her feet, directing the packing up of your room.

You were being sent to a convent north of Valentine, many, many miles away. According to your mother, you would stay there until the baby was born and either raise it there or give it away. 

“If you ever return here, I have no desire to see a crying brat with you,” your mother told you bluntly. What a pleasant woman.

Well, you were not going to any nunnery, that was for sure. You had a plan. An admittedly rough around the edges one, but a plan nonetheless.

Late at night, you quietly packed a large satchel with clothes and essentials. You were getting the hell out of here, and you were going to track down Arthur.

It was his fault this was happening, and you would refuse to leave until he took responsibility. As much as you hated the idea of groveling at his feet, you had no other options. Raising a baby by yourself was basically unheard of, and you were almost certain to screw it up somehow.

The gang was no longer hiding at Clemen’s Point. You knew this because you’d (ashamedly) ridden down to see Arthur about a month after your final meeting, and saw that the land was abandoned.

At the time you figured it was best he was gone. That toxic energy was better off not being in your life, and so what if you craved his red-hot touch every single day, and touched yourself thinking of him, hoping to replicate the feel of his thick fingers massaging your pussy?

Anyway, you had an idea of where he was. He’d told you before that the gang would probably move further east to outrun the Pinkertons, and he’d expressed his distaste of Saint Denis. 

So, he was possibly somewhere near Saint Denis, maybe on the outskirts. You’d have to ask around a bit. It would be a daunting task– a single, defenseless woman in a big, strange city. 

Not to mention pregnant. Maybe you should have taken those shooting lessons after all.

And it wasn’t like he was waiting for you there– surely the gang was laying low, after that crazy shootout with the Grays in town.

You finished packing and sneaked downstairs, careful to stick to the edge of the stairway. Your parents were apparently asleep, and only some of the help was awake this late.

Elisabeth, as kind as she was, couldn’t be trusted. She was in the pay of your mother and therefore on the enemy’s side.

So you had no one, no companion but your horse, Maverick. He was a very dependable creature and honestly your only friend. 

You attached your satchel to his saddle, then got on and quietly directed him off the property. Luckily the help wasn’t paid to ask questions, so no one batted an eye as you passed by. 

You didn’t dare make a sound, or even breathe, until the manor disappeared from view, and all you could see for miles was the forest and the midnight blue sky.

Sighing in relief, you sped up almost to a gallop, going towards Saint Denis. It wasn’t a terribly long ride, but it was long enough and made more difficult by worrying about your…Arthur’s...child. You still couldn’t quite get used to saying that. 

After some time, you arrived in Saint Denis. It was about 12am, and you were eager to be off the road after getting lost several times and nearly falling into a swamp. You led Maverick to a hotel, where you purchased a room for the night.

You laid down on the bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one back home, but it was miles away from your troubles. That was the important bit.

Snuggling into the pillow, you sighed deeply, formulating a plan to look for Arthur. You would try the saloon first; he’d spent a lot of time there in Rhodes, and you were sure he hadn’t changed that habit. After that, perhaps the post office, or the stables. 

You fell asleep dreaming of his beard scratching against your face and his fingers exploring your filthiest bits.

The next morning, you rode over to the saloon and inquired about Arthur with the bartender. “Tall, broad, very handsome, with brown hair,” you explained. “Looks like a gunslinger.”

“Oh yes, him and his pals have come here a few times,” the bartender exclaimed. “They was just down here last night, even.”

Dammit. You’d just missed him. But that confirmed he was in Saint Denis. “Did he say anything about where he was staying?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am, not that I can recall. But just turn up here ‘round six and he’ll surely be here.”

That was that, then. You would come back to the bar later tonight and catch him.

You left the saloon and remounted Maverick in hopeful spirits. Now that you knew for sure he was here, it was okay to relax a bit. And you definitely felt worn out after that long journey.

You stopped by the general store to get some fresh food and an apple for Maverick. A bit of rum would have taken the edge off, but you supposed it wasn’t good given your…condition.

Arriving back at the hotel, you bathed and washed your hair. As silly as it probably was, you wanted to look nice for Arthur. To show that you were a survivor.

Your thoughts drifted. What kind of a father would he be? What kind of family unit would you be? What with him still on the run, still following that silver-tongued Dutch, it would be difficult for you to run from place to place with him. Perhaps he would just tell you to get a room in Saint Denis and he would visit when he could. What if he walked out of your life one day, and never entered it again?

A scenario like that would effectively doom you for life. You weren’t certain you could stomach giving the baby away, but the thought of raising a child with no money or prior knowledge made you equally queasy. 

But even if Arthur let you stay with him– what then? You’d seen the mess that was John Marston’s relationship with his family. And Jack, the little boy. Did you want your child in the same circumstances?

Arthur is not like John, you told yourself firmly. But really, you had no way to tell until he knew.

You spent the day milling about Saint Denis, exploring the markets and seeing the many entertainers on the streets. The people were definitely ruder here, more coarse and quick to anger. It almost made you miss Rhodes.

Almost, anyway.

At about six o’clock you came back to the saloon. Your heart was pounding like crazy, and you mentally prepared yourself for what you were going to say.

Arthur, I’m expecting.

Arthur, I’m pregnant…and it’s yours.

Please help me.

I’ve nowhere else to go.

Please?

You opened the doors, swallowing hard and gritting your teeth.

“Arthur,” you squeaked, then looked around. It was quite full of businessmen, factory workers, and the odd prostitute. 

You carefully took a pace around the room, searching for that familiar form. You looked all over, but didn’t hear him nor see him. Nor anyone from the gang.

Sidling up to the bartender (a different one this time), you asked, “Excuse me, sir, have you seen a…a gunslinger-type fellow here? Brown hair with a beard. Super handsome. You would remember him.”

He thought for a bit while pouring glasses. “Don’t think so, madam. But a lot of people come through here, I might just not remember. If you don’t see him here, you can sit near the door, watch it n’ see if he comes in.”

Sigh. “Alright, thank you kindly.”

You took up a post near the door, awkwardly clutching your satchel, examining everyone that came through the door. More men, some women, even a couple rough-looking folks that looked like the company Arthur kept. But no Arthur.

Unbelievable. Had the bartender from yesterday been mistaken? Or did the gang skip town already?...Most likely, it was just a fluke and they decided not to come today. Dammit!

After about half an hour of waiting, you gave up, just wanting to lie down. You dejectedly got up and exited the saloon.

However, as soon as you did, you almost ran face first into someone’s horse.

The horse nearly trampled you, and you screamed in fear as you tripped and fell to the ground.

“What the hell?!” you cried, shaken. What idiot couldn’t control their horse?

“Dammit, sorry, lady,” a gruff voice spoke. The man got his horse under control after a bit of calming. “You okay– wait…do I know you?”

You got up, dusting off your skirt, looked closer at the man and gasped. It was Bill Williamson, another member of the Van Der Linde gang!

This was an extremely lucky situation. “Bill?” you asked, praying you were right.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Ain’t you…wasn’t you Arthur’s little thing?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes, I know Arthur. Is he here?”

Bill shook his head. “No, he’s back at camp–, err, well, no. He ain’t here. You know, he acted mighty strange after you left–”

“Can you take me to him? Please, Bill,” you begged. “It’s imperative.”

He sighed and scratched his nose. “I was plannin’ on gettin’ drunk…but I s’pose so. But keep your voice down, we’re not exactly best buds with the Pinkertons right now. You got a horse?”

“I do.” 

You quickly mounted Maverick, then followed Bill out of Saint Denis towards the gang’s camp. You were practically buzzing with nervousness. The courage you’d had last night had been used up, and now you were just scared. Would he reject you, force you back to your parents? Or claim that the baby wasn’t his? What if he had a new girl?!

You cleared your throat. “Has he…err, has Arthur…been seeing anyone else since I left?”

Bill laughed. “Arthur? Hell no. I swear, all he talks about is you. Back in Rhodes, he swore up and down you would be back soon. Heh, we all had a good laugh at him then. But I guess the joke’s on us, now that you’re here.”

Well, that was good at least. But why was he so sure you would be back? You’d mutually agreed never to contact each other again.

It was kind of ironic. You’d insisted on cutting him off, yet here you were, chasing him down.

After a few minutes of riding, you finally arrived at the dilapidated house the gang was calling their home. It looked more like a demolition zone to you, but you supposed they would take what they could get after Rhodes.

“Here we are, little lady,” Bill announced. “Arthur!”

You dismounted your horse and went into the main campsite. Karen, Javier, Charles…the gang was all here. You got a few greetings and hand waves from the women.

“Arthur,” Bill barked. “You got a visitor, get out here!”

You stood awkwardly by the entrance of the house, looking in the propped open door, waiting for Arthur with bated breath.

Dutch was sitting by the front door, reading. He looked up when you approached. “Well, welcome back, sweetheart,” he said in that demeaning voice. “You wasn’t followed, were you? A lot of people want us dead right now.”

“Err, no sir, I don’t think so,” you squeaked. Dutch made you uncomfortable. You got the feeling he thought of women as delicate creatures that were lesser than men. Even with the few times you’d been to camp, you had heard the cruel words he flung at and about Molly.

You just hoped none of it had rubbed off on Arthur. You knew he was fiercely loyal to the man.

Heavy footsteps could be heard from inside the house. “Alright, I’m comin’, shut up,” a familiar voice grunted.

A lightning strike bolted down between your legs and you gasped softly when Arthur’s familiar, muscular form filled your vision.

“What-” he started, then froze when his eyes landed on you. His lips parted, but no words came out for a second. “You-”

“Arthur,” you whispered.

This was the greatest day of his life.

Arthur was certain he’d failed to impregnate you. That you’d been living fine all this time, not sparing a single thought to his well being.

But you were here. You’d hunted him down, somehow, and you looked scared out of your mind. And he could guess why.

He licked his lips. “What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You stared at him for a good few seconds, transfixed by his rugged beauty. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Arthur took you to the back of the house. The two of you sat in the grass, legs crossed.

“How’d you find me?” he asked.

“By chance,” you said. “I knew you went east, so I asked around at Saint Denis– then I ran straight into Bill.”

He nodded. “You…you got somethin’ to tell me?”

You took a deep breath. Now that the moment was actually here, every nerve in your body was thrumming with anticipation. “I’m…well, actually, I’m…pregnant.”

The only sound was the chirping of birds. 

“Excuse me?” he said quietly.

You felt ashamed. “I’m with child, Arthur. My parents done kicked me out because of it. S’why I came here.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said slowly, like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes. And you’re the father for sure.”

He stayed silent for a bit, but you could hear his breath accelerate sharply.

You felt scared of what he was thinking. “Arthur?”

After a long period of silence, he said, “Are you showin’ yet?”

What an odd question. “A little.”

“Can I see?”

What? But you obliged, letting him lift up your skirt high enough to show off your bump.

Arthur inhaled sharply, then put his hand on your belly. “That’s– that’s my baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I’m about 4 months along, I think,” you said, fixing your clothes. “So…so are you going to…step up? I don’t have anyone else, Arthur.” Your voice turned squeaky and desperate, and tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “My parents wanted to send me to a convent–”

“Baby, hey, shh. I can promise you I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Arthur said hoarsely. “You’re staying here with me.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at his declaration. He was such a…man. Never afraid to take responsibility or action. You were supremely glad that he was going to take care of you and the baby. However long the gang could outrun the Pinkertons, he would, you knew it.

Arthur embraced you, curving his hands around your stomach and kissing your cheek. The two of you rocked back and forth for a minute, in unadulterated bliss. Everything melted away: the camp, the law, your parents. It was just you and him. And the baby between you.

"Told ya, you belong with me," he whispered in your ear.

Arthur was right. You came back again and again and again because you craved the action. You craved excitement and freedom and yes, even bloodshed to a certain extent. There was no use trying to leave him when he represented everything you wanted in life, even the most sinful things.

He was made for you.

Arthur hustled you back up to where Dutch was, fighting a raging erection. Seeing his girl growing round with his baby was insanely satisfying. He felt that was an appropriate reward for everything he had worked for.

And now you were certain to be stuck with him. With a baby in you, you couldn’t do much of anything, much less run away again. He would gently insist that you stay in Shady Belle to recuperate from your no doubt difficult journey east, then as the months went by you would grow more and more dependent on him, stomach getting bigger every day, till you needed his help with the simplest tasks.

He would do it all for you. All this time, Arthur had tried to make you see that your place was by his side. It was just unfortunate that he’d had to resort to deceit to make you realize the truth.

But no matter. All was forgiven. He couldn’t wait to see your pregnant body and show you off to everyone in camp.

And just maybe he would put another kid or two in you, in case you had any doubts after the first one.

Arthur sighed in contentment as he approached Dutch to explain the situation. No matter what, he knew your love was genuine. It burned brighter than the sun, certain to destroy anyone that dared cross its path.

You, him, and your child– you would make a picture perfect family. He was certain of it.

End.

[sweetinsaniiity]

Don't Lean On Me

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - tsundere!outcast!Yeosang x semi-stalker!reader◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - enemies-to-lovers trope, college au, heavy angst, tooth-rotting fluff, Yeosang is kind of an !asshole (in the beginning), reader fell first but he fell harder, reader is down bad for Yeosang, reader has !stalker tendencies, abandonment in the rain, eventual make up, happy ending ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-14+, kissing scene, suggestive content, threats (both harmful and non-harmful), scene where Yeosang holds your arm to kick you out, mentions of a car accident (non-graphic), no smut this time, sorry folks ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 27K words (I can explain) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - Yeosang was the campus freak. An outcast, to say the least. He didn't particularly do anything, well, except cover his face with a black mask and avoids everybody. He never takes it off and nobody has ever seen his face before. But you couldn't help but fall for him, so you follow him every single time. You get caught, however, and he threatens you to stay away from him. To add salt to the injury, you were both partnered for a project that will exempt you from the subject next semester. ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - It wasn't my intention to make this as long as it is, and again, easygoing fluff without any drama and plot-twists aren't my thing, but I really wanted to start 2025 with something sweet! Stay tuned because the next one will be EXTREMELY TOXIC. Enjoy! Title from Amity Affliction. Also, I'm really sick right now, bear with me. ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 ◄

► 𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @dove-net @keopihaus @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet @pirateeznet @hiraya-m ◄

It was him, yet again. It was very easy to spot him as he always took the same spot where he was now at the far corner of the classroom where everybody blatantly ignored him.

But not you though. You could have burned a hole in this guy's skull with how hard you stared at him every single time you saw him. How could you not? The way his rigid posture sat straight as he tuned the world out with his earphones and the way his uninterested eyes would scan all over the room definitely caught your eye.

And you knew that everybody in the classroom did, too. But that was the thing, you weren't aloof to all the sneers and snickers they sent towards his direction.

You tapped the person sitting to your left, who just also happened to be one of your best friends, without leaving your sights on the mysterious man that already made your heart beat unknowingly. "Hey, who's that again?"

You've been in this particular class, the only class you share, but for some reason, you never did bother to ask. Until now.

Yunho glances behind him with a small frown, following the direction of where your index finger was pointing. His brows tilt up ever so slightly as you watch his face slowly transform into that of recognition.

"Kang Yeosang," he said more as a surprise rather than a statement. He turns back to look at you inquisitively. "Very smart, like, really damn smart, but that's not what a lot of people notice at first."

He was right. You were guilty as charged, though, because it was also the reason why you were suddenly interested in him. 

Yeosang wore a face mask that covered half of his face from his nose to his chin. Now, that part wasn't odd in itself since everybody wore them once in a while for whatever reason that may be, but Yeosang wore them literally everywhere. He never took them off, at least, from what you know.

But that was definitely the case. Again, you weren't privy to all the whispers that travelled in the air. Kang Yeosang literally never took the mask off of his face. Nobody has ever seen what the guy looked like.

"Don't be judgmental," you murmured, forcing your head to look forward. "Nobody does something different for absolutely no reason at all." 

"I didn't say anything like that," Yunho counters. "I do admit that it is a bit odd, but hey, whatever works. I mean, look..."

He dug something out of his coat pocket. A small, compact mirror. You raised a brow at Yunho, but he shrugs it off. He angled the mirror and then you realized what he was doing. 

"He's already good-looking with that thing on," Yunho muttered under his breath as you both looked at Yeosang. "Imagine if he actually took that mask off? There will be no pussy left for everyone in this building."

You rolled your eyes dramatically, ignoring his crass statement. What Yunho said, though, you couldn't refute. 

Even with the face mask covering almost the majority of his face, there was no denying that Yeosang was simply gorgeous. There was an itch for you to do something about the mask, but you willed them to go away. It was none of your business.

A pang hits your chest. You suddenly felt bad for him, people were just mean for no definitive reason. It shouldn't have mattered that Yeosang wanted to wear a mask, hell, even if he wore a chicken mascot costume it was still none of everybody's business.

But alas. Such is human nature.

Your class had started, and as usual, it was a bore. Still, you had to endure it for your grades. You couldn't concentrate, however, as your mind kept drifting to the mysterious man who sat at the far corner of the classroom away from prying eyes.

Against your better judgment, you swiveled your head once more to take a good look at him, but your heart leapt to your throat when you made eye contact with him. That meant he was already looking in your direction before you turned.

Your jaw slackened, your heart beating faster and faster you were afraid it would jump out of your ribcage, as you stared into his eyes. They were captivating. It was the understatement of the century. His eyes were a home for a tempest that raged without end.

In short, they were dead. At some point, you were sure that his eyes were once alive because despite the horrors that hid them, you could tell he had a beautiful soul.

A soul that you didn't have anymore, for the moment that your eyes had met his, it was over. He stole it from you just as fast as the light from his eyes was stolen, as well.

Dryness covered your entire mouth when his brow raised in question, challenging you to say something to him since you were staring at him so intently.

You were rendered frozen in your seat. Not for nothing, but he must be doing something to hypnotize you. Yeah, that was probably it, why else would you stay unmoving for the favour of staring at him?

Yeosang tilted his head in curiosity, leaning back on his seat to get comfortable. He crossed his arms, eyes not breaking their contact with yours. You gulped, even his gestures were so fascinating.

There was a world within this classroom, and the only inhabitants in it were you and Yeosang. Forget your class, it was too late for that because you'd already lost yourself in this. Nobody paid attention to the both of you, and nobody had noticed what was going on.

Not even when everybody had started standing up since class was over had distracted you. The one that did, however, was Yunho's hand wrapping around your arm to catch your attention.

You jumped at the touch, your head snapping quickly in his direction, eyes widened, clearly startled. Yunho chuckled in amusement at your expression. "You okay? You seemed pretty lost there," he asked.

You robotically turned back to answer Yunho. "Yeah, I'm good," you cleared your throat. "Just a bit distracted, boring class, you know?"

"Right," Yunho drawled, eyes squinting in suspicion. He stood up, his sling bag on his shoulder already, and smoothly picked up your tote that contained all your notes. "Anyhow. Jongho's already ordered us some brunch, we have to go."

You nodded, hesitantly standing up, watching as Yunho went ahead to the exit and started talking to another friend of his. 

When you looked back at that particular spot, you were disheartened to see that Yeosang was already gone. 

Your eyes tried to find the masked brunette, but no such luck. He must have rushed out the moment you looked away.

What a shame, you thought with an internal pout. You followed Yunho with an aimless gait through the halls, you trusted him to get you to where you needed to go because you didn't even trust yourself right now.

You've always been a sucker for the eccentric. While you didn't think Yeosang was one per se, you were just so sick of normalcy. It wasn't entirely for you.

"Right on time, lazy bums," Jongho smirked, standing up as you and Yunho both approached him. "I already paid for everything---don't even fucking think about it."

Yunho paused, mouth agape, the hand that held his wallet frozen in the air. "C'mon, dude. You can't do this every time. We just want to hang out."

Jongho sat back down, gesturing for the both of you to sit down. "Yeah, well, I asked for it, so it's a no-brainer, yes?"

Yunho rolled his eyes, temporarily accepting defeat, because you all knew none of you would win. Choi Jongho was born into a family that had conglomerates everywhere. He had the money, which you and Yunho had made clear that you didn't need, but he did it, anyway.

You inched a bit closer to Jongho and gave him a small peck on his cheeks. "Thanks, baby bear. But Yunho's right. We can pay for our stuff."

Jongho jokingly pushed you away, making you giggle softly. He hastily rubbed the spot you pecked. "Don't ever do that again," he groaned. "And stop being an ungrateful brat. I swear I need new friends."

You smiled a bit, your lips pursed with the action. It didn't reach your eyes, Jongho noticed. He raised a brow to stare at Yunho, who only shrugged.

You realized that the three of you were in a cafe near the college grounds. The ambience was nice, but you couldn't remember the last time where you just sat like this, enjoying the moment with your friends, and simply just passing time.

Your appetite had long gone, but you couldn't tell Jongho that since he'd paid for the food. You had to at least pretend you were enjoying it. At least, they were. Yunho chuckled at something Jongho said, but you didn't even hear it.'

A certain brunette flashed in your mind again. You paused, suddenly wondering what he was doing. You knew it was ridiculous, Yeosang probably thought you were ridiculous. 

You wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself in it, cringing at the fact that Yeosang probably thought that you were staring at him just to make fun of him, just like the rest. You weren't, though, but he possibly can't know that.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the distinct clatter of utensils hit your ears. It was Jongho's doing, you frowned in confusion. 

"Alright, what the hell is wrong with you?" Jongho demanded, leaning his elbow on the table, twisting his body so he'd face you. "You've been so distracted the entire time and it's getting on my nerves."

You glanced up at him and stared at him for a good couple of seconds. He wasn't going to yield, so you couldn't keep the eye contact you started. It suddenly got difficult to swallow with how dry your throat was getting. 

"I'm just tired," you mumbled, sounding unconvincing even to yourself. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, cut the crap," Yunho interjected, cluttering his utensils in a comical way that you couldn't help but let out a real smile. "I know why you're like this. It's Kang Yeosang, isn't it?"

You blushed beet red. You supposed to weren't discreet. The intensity in which your scalp tingles at the mention of his name was electrifying, the sensation akin to when you met eyes with each other prior to this.

Jongho's brows reached his hairline, his expression turning from curious to one of complete surprise. "Yeosang? Flower-looking dude, pale skin, about 'ye height?" Jongho gestured to his own height. "How do you know him?"

You and Yunho looked at each other before turning to Jongho in suspicion. "I have one class with him," you admitted.

"How do you know him?" Yunho questioned with scrutiny. 

Jongho hesitated. He looked between you and Yunho repeatedly for what seemed like a while, before he sighed deeply, looking around him cautiously. When he saw that the coast was clear, he leaned closer. You and Yunho did the same.

"You didn't hear this from me," he said, eyes hard. "Yeosang is, was, my childhood friend. Remember my friend that I always spoke about that always had my back?"

It clicked, and you nodded. "That's him? But you said he's very funny and talkative," you blurted out without thinking. You were genuinely flabbergasted. 

Jongho drummed his fingers on the table, a faraway look in his eyes present before he spoke again. "Something happened that made him the way he is now," he cryptically explained. "It's not my story to tell. All I ask is to not judge him."

You elbowed Yunho and sassed at him with your eyes, signaling with the 'I-told-you-so' look. He smirked, pushing your elbow away.

"Little Miss Y/N here," Yunho sarcastically gestured to you, then ruffled your hair messily. "Has a bit of a crush with your childhood friend---"

"Shut up, I definitely do not," you hissed, though it didn't have any bite to it. You didn't know it was possible for your face to be redder than it already was, but here you were.

Just then, Jongho started laughing, his voice bellowing loudly in the small confines of the cafe, earning your table stares, but you couldn't care less. His gummy smile had always been contagious, so it was no surprise when you started laughing along with him.

"It's such a shame, though," Jongho chuckled away the remnants of his laughter with a small shake of his head. "I know Yeosang even though we fell apart. You're definitely his type, down to a T."

Yunho started to laugh but nodded his head in agreement anyway. "I could see that, honestly. Mingi has a thing or two for you."

"No, he doesn't," you rolled your eyes. Song Mingi was the campus crush, and you did have a crush on him before, but that ship had long sailed and it was fleeting anyway. "What makes you say that, though, Jongie?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Jongho smirked, playfully teasing you, much to your chagrin. 

You groaned. "Seriously!"

Of course, you weren't going to tell him that you were definitely curious now. You also weren't going to tell him that you were going to use this information to your advantage.

Jongho flicked your forehead lightheartedly. "He likes cute things, plain and simple," he shrugged, side-eyeing you. "That includes potential girlfriends, too."

The mischief in that Cheshire-like smile that was bigger than anything you've ever seen. You were glad he crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat, you didn’t want him in your face.

That didn't mean you weren't going to think about what he said for days, though.

Unfortunately, you hadn't really seen Yeosang anymore after that. 

He didn't attend the once-a-week class the next week, and you couldn't attend the one the following week. You had an unlucky bout of allergy due to the pollen going around campus. All Yunho did that whole day he visited was roll his eyes at your antics.

You were hoping to cross paths with him again, even though you knew you weren't going to talk to him anyway. You just wanted to take one more peek at him before you continued on with your life.

Yeah, totally not creepy. 

"Good morning, Y/N."

You were forced out of your thoughts when a voice from behind you sounded. You were currently in front of the professors' lounge early in the morning.

"Oh! Good morning, Mr. Park, I'm so sorry to disturb you so early in the morning," you bowed deeply in the presence of  your professor. 

"It's quite alright, dear," Park Seonghwa, your professor in that one class you missed, chuckled. You couldn't help but loosen up, he really was your favourite professor and you respected him a lot. 

He opened his briefcase to get out a stack of papers. "I hope everything is fine on your end? Here, take them," he handed them to you.

You nodded, explaining that it was pollen and that it was fine now. "Wonderful," he said. "Regardless, I expect my star student in my class next week. Good day."

"Thank you, Professor," you bowed one more time before you completely walked away.

There were more notes than expected, you realized that as you riffled through them, skimming just to get a general gist from where you stopped and where you should begin to catch up.

You weren't one of those students that studied a lot, but you also weren't careless about your grades. You just wanted to get by, and you were just lucky that all your professors remember and like you well enough to give you some notes when you miss some classes.

You sighed, contemplating what to do. With all these notes, you had to concentrate on them for a day or two. Final was coming and you didn't have enough time to study the following days. 

To the library it is, you decided. Your feet were already taking you to that sacred place that you love so much. And when you entered, your mood instantly lifted.

You loved how empty the space was, yet it was extensive in nature. It was the perfect labyrinth to get trapped in; once you get inside the minds of great authors or whatnot and relive the adventures, the sorrow, and the laughter imprinted and immortalized by the writings in the pages of their books, you can never leave.

It was perfect. You approached the front desk so you could greet your friend who was working part-time to sustain his scholarship. He didn't notice you at first, but when he did, he was all smiles. 

"Well, look who we have here," he smirked, closing the book he, himself, held in his hand. "Good to see you, Y/N."

You chuckled softly so as to not break the peace. "Likewise, Kim Hongjoong," you nodded. "I need a couple of books about these for my finals..."

Hongjoong gently took the notes Professor Park gave you and scanned them quickly before doing whatever it was he needed to do on his computer. He wrote a series of numbers on the paper before handing them back to you.

"I put the aisles and shelf numbers on every book you need," he murmured, pointing them out. "Shouldn't be too difficult to find."

"Got it. I appreciate the help, Joong," you thanked him. He nodded and waved you off, dismissing you. You couldn't help but laugh under your breath.

Just like he said, the books weren't too difficult to find, and soon, you found yourself with a stack of them. You were pleased when you found that your favourite spot was free, and so, you studied away.

You lost yourself in the process, like you always did when you started, but along the way, there was an itch in your neck that was begging to be noticed.

Subconsciously, you looked up, and your world stopped along with your heart.

Yeosang, too, was busying himself with a stack of his own books. Of course, he still wore that mask on his face, but there was something different about him from the last time you had seen him.

His hair was styled up in a way that looked effortlessly good, his forehead was a bit exposed and you were able to see his eyes clearly this time even though his nose was deep in the book he held. 

He was a couple of tables away from you, isolated from everybody at the very end of the library where you knew not a lot of people went. It reminded you of the way he sat down in your class.

His presence just engulfed you, and you didn't know why. The grip you had on your book would've been suffocating had it been alive, you couldn't stop staring at Yeosang.

His brown cashmere coat perfectly complemented his physique; it made him look very masculine. His cropped out hair fitted him well, and the way he carried himself interested you so much.

The way his fingers moved to turn the pages of his book mesmerized you, brought you into a world where you wondered what it would feel like if that hand was holding yours. He wasn't even doing anything but sit down like someone would in a library, yet he simply exuded grace and elegance.

You knew then and there, that this wasn't just a fleeting crush on a man that doesn't even know your name.

Ever since then, you made an effort to go the library every single day just to peek a glance on Yeosang. Whether it was hours or minutes to an end, you didn't mind. Of course, you didn't want to be borderline creepy, there were times where you actually needed to study and so many times where you didn't realize that he had left because you were so engrossed with your work.

His schedule was simple, you learned that he'd go to the library every other day either to just read or actually study. You took note of the books he read, they were way too advanced for you. Yunho wasn't lying - this man was intelligent.

Your little crush soon turned into genuine admiration. If one would look hard enough, it was easy to say that Yeosang was one of the most hardworking people you've had the pleasure to go to university with.

And just like you, he'd get lost in his world once he got too deep, and it was when you'd take the time to study him just a bit more.

You had memorized the notes that you were given from front to back, word per word, punctuation per punctuation, but you still went to the library anyway.

There were times where Yeosang would subconsciously look forward, he would take a break from reading and stretch his neck, and you'd panic and look down, but you were sure he didn't notice you. You sure hoped he didn't, the blush on your cheeks could be seen miles away.

Hongjoong raised his brow one day when you handed him the book that you wanted to check out for a week, and you couldn't look him straight in the eye.

"The Art Of War?" Hongjoong blurted out incredulously. He sheepishly looked down when a couple of people turned to our direction with a small glare. You bit your lip when he kept staring at the book.

He leaned forward, his voice hushed, his eyes glowing with mirth, but with suspicion nonetheless. "I didn't know you were interested in Machiavellian beliefs and principles."

You weren't. In fact, you didn't give a crap or two about it. Yunho snatched the book from Hongjoong and flipped a couple of pages. "Damn, I can't even understand this," he chortled, giving the book back. "You're really gonna read this?"

You rolled your eyes in half-annoyance to cover up how red the tips of your ears were. You saw Yeosang reading the book for days before he returned it, and you just wanted to see what kind of books he read.

You wanted to know what ran in Yeosang's head as he sat there and read it and maybe, just maybe, you were absolutely insane in the head because you liked him a bit too much.

"Is it so hard to believe that I'm interested in it? Geez," you murmured, grabbing the book and hastily chucking in your purse as if doing so would make Hongjoong and Yunho forget that it existed.

"Yes," they both answered in unison.

You scoffed, offended that they actually thought so, but you couldn't really get mad at them, because it was truly unbecoming of you. You weren't really interested in how the world worked, you were a hopeless romantic, and you wanted to stay that way for a while.

"Maybe it's in the air, someone just returned that book yesterday after a week," Hongjoong scoffed, grabbing a book that you just logged into to check out anything. "Yeah, that guy, Kang Yeosang. Cool guy, a bit withdrawn, kinda weird, but cool regardless."

Yunho's eyes almost popped out of its sockets and he turned to you with the most shit-eating grin on his face. He was about to open his mouth, but before he could, you quickly reached up and covered it. It was a challenge since Yunho was a giant, but you didn't want him tattling. You wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Ah, we have classes in a couple of minutes," you laughed nervously, stomping on Yunho's foot, making him groan in pain that was muffled by your hand. "Bye, Joong!"

You left, dragging the big Jeong Yunho comically while Hongjoong watched with his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a wee little fish.

Yunho forcefully removed your hand from his face the moment you got outside, but it didn't stop him from giving you that mouth-splitting grin that you wanted to wipe off of his face. "I can expla---"

"Oh, no need," he playfully teased in a sing-songy voice. "You're already head over heels for the guy, it's remarkable---"

"Jeong Yunho, I swear to God---"

"I cannot wait to actually tell Jongho, man, I thought you'd give Mingi a chance---"

You turned around to run away from his relentless teasing, you could hear him laughing behind you. You giggled under your breath and usually you'd entertain his teasing, but you were so confused on what you felt for Yeosang lately.

The entire night was spent on you reading the book and as expected, you abhorred it. You crumpled your face in genuine skepticism, did Yeosang truly enjoy this? 

The more you turned the pages, the more pissed you got, suddenly realizing that you were doing this for a man who doesn't even give two shits about you. It was deplorable. 

After a day or two, you decided to return the book. There was no point in keeping it if you weren't interested in it anyway, but you decided to do it later. You'd sit down on your usual spot first.

To your surprise and dismay, Yeosang wasn't sitting in his usual spot. It wasn't really odd, sometimes his schedule did become sporadic, but still, your heart slowed its beating. You already felt a bit down.

But there would have been no need. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you as you sat down at your usual spot. Before you could turn around and inspect, they leaned down, and you felt hands on your shoulders. They were firm and sure.

Shivers travelled down your spine when a deep, rich voice hit your ear as they whispered. "Machiavelli, huh?"

The voice was muffled with something, like a mask. Heat soaked up your entire face and the tips of your ears. You had forgotten to put the book away and thought it was a great idea to have it out in the open.

Or maybe, you did it on purpose hoping that Yeosang would see and pique his interest.

"Meet me at the blind spot to the left behind the staircase. If you're not there within three minutes, I will sabotage all of your projects until you graduate," he ordered gruffly, his tone gravelly and unpleasant, to be quite frank. "All of them."

A cold bucket of water could have been poured directly on your head without warning and it still wouldn't be able to bring you any type of dread like those words would ever do. It was insane.

You didn't hesitate, haphazardly throwing all your belongings hastily without any sort of order in your purse before sprinting out of the library. Today was not the day to test the validity of the whispered threat.

A record should've been awarded to you with how quick your feet had taken you were Yeosang told you to. At first, you didn't see him, but when you noticed a shadow fleeting in and out at the very corner of the staircase, you knew it was him. It was indeed a blind spot - no one would be able to see him unless they were looking for him.

The moment you stepped in that hidden area, you were roughly slammed against the adjacent wall. To say you were shocked would be an understatement.

Right away, you tried to cradle your head to halt the oncoming nausea from the sheer force, but your hands were also pinned above your head.

"What," you said rather than questioned. "W-What are you doing?"

When your eyes finally focused on what's in front of you, you couldn't help but let out a small gasp. His black mask covered his face well, but never his eyes. God, you hoped not.

You were right all along, his eyes were beautiful, especially this close. You could smell his cologne, too. Heat started to travel from your neck all the way to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on his scent.

"Cut the shit," Yeosang spat, venom coated in every syllable. His hold on your hands tightens to the point of pain. "Stop following me."

Time stopped at that very second. His voice was a lot deeper than you thought. You swallowed, Yeosang's eyes subconsciously trailing down your throat at the motion. "I-I'm not following you," you squeaked out.

"Oh?" Yeosang tilted his head. The movement would have been cute, if he didn't look angry and menacing right now. One of his hands let go to dig into your purse. He grabbed the book you were supposed to return, but couldn't. 

"You don't look like the type to read Machiavellian beliefs, princess," he gritted out. "And I mean that with full offense."

You frowned, thoroughly confused as to why Yeosang was, frankly, acting like an ass towards you. "You're a judgmental one, aren't you? What if I was?"

"Then what's his name?"

You blanched, mouth getting dry from the sudden question. Yeosang's unimpressed glare catches you off guard. You felt your heart cracking a bit.

"I'm not sure," you admitted, voice small, embarrassed to be caught red-handed in a lie. You bit your lip, looking down towards the floor to avoid his indifferent eyes.

For a moment, you both stayed like that - Yeosang pinning you, and you just staying still just to see what he was going to do. And then, he lets go, and puts his hands on either side of you on the wall with a loud thud.

"It's Niccolo," he murmured, bitterness seeping towards his voice. It made your frown grow deeper.

"N-Niccolo?"

Yeosang scoffed, rolling his eyes sarcastically at you. "Yes. Your brain stutters, too?"

That definitely stung. You didn't know what to say but, "W-What?"

"W-What?" Yeosang repeated, voice higher in pitch in an effort to mimic and mock you as if you were a degenerate. It was honestly offensive, but you were too frozen to do anything. 

"No wonder why you're so obvious, this here," he continued, his index finger tapping your temple once. "Doesn't work quite well, doesn't it?"

It was an eloquent way of saying that you were, indeed, stupid. Your manner completely transforms, it becomes rigid against him. You wanted to scoff, who knew that his angelic eyes held this much contempt in them?

Your mouth opens to defend your honour against his insults, but the same index finger touches your lips, effectively shushing you. Warmth automatically spreads through them.

"Ah, ah, ah, you have absolutely no right to talk right now," he interrupted rather rudely, his voice dropping an octave. You forced yourself not to shiver. "I mean it, Y/N. Stop fucking following me. I don't like my privacy invaded."

You couldn't stop the sigh that bubbled up your chest. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, but we could have talked this out."

He chuckled, the sound of it dark and devoid of anything that resembled emotions. "You forfeited that right since the first day. You're not as subtle as you think you are, princess."

"Don't call me that," you frowned, your hand sticking out to push his chest away, albeit weakly. "What is your damn problem?" 

"What's my problem?" Yeosang reiterates, his tone taking an angrier and more aggravated tone to it. "My problem is that you are literally tailing me at the library like I'm some sort of circus zoo animal."

He sarcastically chuckled, more to himself than towards you. "But then again, that's what everyone thinks."

You felt your heart breaking a little when he adjusted the mask he was wearing as if doing so would protect him right now when in reality, you were the one in need of protection. Behind the malice in his voice was a hurt so deep, it was impossible to ignore.

His eyes met yours again, and this time, they were ablaze. "Who put you up to this?" Yeosang snarled. "Who fucking told you to watch me? And why? So you and your stupid little friends would have a laugh and go?"

"No, that's not it, I swear," you immediately denied, shaking your head repeatedly to make a point. "I didn't mean for it to look like that, I-I promise you---"

"So why the hell are you following me? Tell me," he demanded. You yelped when he roughly lifted your chin up. "At least give me the decency of looking at me straight in the eye while you tell me why you've been watching me."

"Ow, you're hurting me," you pried his hand off of your face successfully, slightly glaring at him in the process. "It's not like that," you hesitated, gulping once more before continuing. "Is it so hard to believe that someone actually admires you, or something?"

He raised a brow in irritation. "God, you're so full of shit."

He pulls away, jutting one arm out and shoves your shoulder hard - hard enough for it to collide with the wall behind you. You were stunned at his aggression. 

"Stay the hell away from me," he growled, bending down to pick up the backpack he had that you didn't even notice. He started to emerge from the staircase towards the hallways where, surprisingly, no one was. 

He gave you one last glare, a scathing one. "If I catch you again, I won't go easy on you next time. Save your judgment for somebody else."

You scoffed, emerging from the same spot. You inevitably ended up in front of him; the hallways were narrow, unfortunately. You looked up at him, not knowing exactly what to say. It wasn't like you didn't know where he came from, he was probably creeped out by your behaviour.

But you weren't going to tell him that it was because of your crush with him, especially not now that you know he clearly doesn't like you.

"I'm dead serious, Y/N. Stay away from me," he glared. "Now, if you'll kindly fuck off..."

He moves past you, his shoulders deliberately hitting yours, causing you to stagger back a little bit. The only thing you could do from then was to look behind you as you watched him walk away.

You couldn't help but notice how confident his gait was - how sure he was of himself. You shook your head in disbelief, utterly and thoroughly confused, not knowing what to believe at this point.

Tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. The resonating voice of realization in your head made you numb, the mortification slowly trickling down your chest slowly. It tightens as the shame presents itself at the discomfort written on your face.

It wasn’t like he was wrong, because definitely had a valid point. Still, you couldn’t help the cascade of tears that started to fall from your eyes from the direct confrontation.

A thought had suddenly struck your head as you watched him walk away and disappear when he rounded the corner of the hallway - how did he even know your name?

It wouldn’t be the last time you and Yeosang encountered each other. One way or another, you were especially hyper aware of his presence.

You stopped going to the library. You weren’t an idiot, you weren’t going to frequent a place where you know you weren’t wanted. Yeosang, however, made it a point to glare at you every single time your eyes would meet.

That in itself would have been fine, but when he started to purposely bump into your shoulders hard enough to send you reeling backwards, it became a little personal. You certainly didn’t miss his little smirk when he saw you riled up.

You actively avoided him for good. Curse you for being attracted to the eccentric. 

Today was one of those - you sat in your usual seat along with Yunho while Yeosang was in that same isolated spot he liked taking since nobody wanted to be associated with him. It was fine, it wasn’t difficult to ignore him given his little attitude towards you.

”Hey,” Yunho called softly. You raised a brow in question. “You and Yeosang got beef, or something?”

“No, not that I know of,” you frowned. “Why?”

”Because he’s been staring, or rather, shooting daggers at you the moment you sat down. He figured out your weird little habit of watching him, huh?” Yunho smirked, crossing his arms.

You grumbled a little curse in his direction, making him chuckle at your antics. You didn’t doubt what he said, though. Yeosang definitely didn’t like you and you gave him the ammunition to do so.

The commotion died down gradually when the professor entered the classroom and hushed everybody. Soon enough, you were able to tune out the prickling sensation towards the back of your neck you knew came from Yeosang’s stares.

You bunched your brows up, though, when you noticed that your professor wasn’t carrying his usual lecture materials and, instead, had a small box in his hands. It didn’t happen often with college students, but he definitely had everybody’s attention hanging in a thread successfully.

”Good day, everybody,” Professor Choi San greeted with a soft smile, his dimples deepening at the gesture, along with his eyes that laid subdued behind a pair of glasses that made him look undeniably attractive. He shakes the box that he held in one hand while he gestured to the class with the other. “Before the year ends, I’d like everybody to do a project instead of the usual examinations. It’ll be a two-person team effort.”

You automatically turned to your side and bumped your elbows at Yunho, who was already looking at you with a gleeful smile. However, that bubble soon burst when Professor Choi cleared his throat, effectively silencing the room once again. “Your partners will be randomized,” he shook the box once more to prove his point. “I’ve already picked half of the class, random as well, to pick out names inside this box.”

What the hell kind of concept is this? You couldn’t help but grimace on the inside, you knew barely anybody in this class, let alone work with somebody for a project that would determine if you will pass this class or not.

”It’s better than a written exam, yes?” Professor Choi smirked.

It was a bore. You had no interest in doing the project, but you have no choice. Surely, you didn’t want to pick a random name either. When Yunho was called, the little hope you had in partnering with him got shattered when he picked a name that wasn’t yours.

He still technically won the lottery though, because he was partnered up with Mingi. When he got back to the seat, you couldn’t help but chuckle at his excitement and relief when he showed you the paper that held Mingi’s name.

He, too, was worried he’d pick a random name even though he was a bit more extroverted than you were. “You’ll get lucky, too, I’m sure of it,” he patted your shoulders in faux comfort. “My luck extends to friends, you know?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I can already see this project being a disaster with the two of you being together like this.”

He laughed out loud at your statement, and as if he had jinxed it, your name was suddenly called. Somebody had already picked your name. When you looked towards the front, it was by this girl you recalled seeing in multiple of your classes.

You offered her a small smile, one she returned awkwardly. She seemed nice enough to you and that’s all that mattered to you. Yunho and Jongho had told you before that you had an uncanny way of making someone like you eventually. 

“Kang Yeosang.”

Your breath hitched, deliberately straining your neck to not turn around and look at him as he walked towards the centre of the room with the Professor. 

It wasn’t just you - everybody turned silent as they all stared at the man with that confident shadow behind him. He knew everybody stared and he didn’t care, and you genuinely admired that mentality. If only you could turn back time and actually tell him that instead of watching him like a creep.

But you were pretty sure that you were the only one who stared at him with admiration. Everyone else judged him for hiding his face, and you could have sworn you felt your break a little more at that.

Finally, he puts his head inside the box and quickly pulls it out, the piece of paper in his hand crumpling with how hard he gripped it. You suddenly wished you could see his entire face to know exactly what he’s feeling.

You could hear the snickers behind you, people relieved that they had already picked a partner, or people laughing at him. They were just plain nasty, and you couldn’t take hearing them anymore.

You held your fists tights, they were almost white with how tight you were holding them. You tried tuning them out, focusing on the sight of Yeosang with Professor Choi.

You frowned, something wasn’t right. The way Yeosang’s brows furrowed. Suddenly, he looked up, eyes meeting yours. You froze, not knowing exactly why he was looking at you.

He took one more look at the paper before pocketing it. “I got L/N Y/N,” he said, clear as day, his deep voice resonating all over the vast classroom.

Your brain definitely short-circuited that day and you can’t read the future, but you were sure that this was the exact moment where you were sure that your life would turn upside down and change.

”Are you sure?” Professor Choi asked, confused, amidst all the hushed whispers that resounded all over the room. 

Redness spreads through your cheeks at all the unwanted attention. You turned to Yunho and tapped his arms cautiously “There goes my chance of being normal in school,” you murmured.

He patted your shoulders in comfort. “Professor Choi must’ve accidentally put your name twice without noticing.”

It was a legitimate cause, you’ve thought the very same thing. You couldn’t help but glance at Yeosang once more, and unbelievably, your cheeks became even hotter to the touch. You definitely wouldn’t mind partnering with him for this project.

And that’s exactly what happened. As it turns out, there was only one person left that didn’t have a partner yet. The girl who was partnered with you insisted that they be partnered, instead, and Professor Choi agreed, leaving you and Yeosang together.

You wanted to give him a piece of your mind for how he was treating you for the last few weeks, but that resolve faltered when you noticed Yeosang’s eyes from a distance. He looked hurt, and you knew why. 

He could hide under that glare or pretend that he was indifferent, but it definitely hurt him to be tossed around as if he wasn’t even in the room in the first place.

To add salt to the wound, Professor Choi instructed all partners to be seated together for the rest of the class. Yunho gave you a small peck on the cheek - platonically - before getting up and making his way towards Mingi.

”Can you guys keep that PDA bullshit somewhere else? So disrespectful to the public,” Yeosang murmured, his voice muffled by the mask, plopping down the seat where Yunho once was. “Does your boyfriend know you were stalking me?”

You scoffed, appalled at what he was trying to insinuate. “First of all, Yunho is my best friend—-”

”Yeah, that’s what they all say,” he smirked dirtily, his head swiveling towards you in a mocking move. “Then you find out they’re screwing. Tell me, are you the type of bitch who’ll give it in some random back alleyway? ”

The ringing in your ears became louder and louder, and it took you everything in your soul to not lash out in the middle of class and just grab your purse so you could smack the living daylights out of this guy.

”And what if I am? You sound bitter to me,” you challenged him, keeping your voice to a minimum, just to rile him up. You’d like to think of yourself as kind, but you are definitely not a pushover.

His brow shots up in mild surprise at your statement, clearly not expecting for you to stand up for yourself. His eyes had this unmistakable fire that contained fiery rage, and instead of standing down, you rolled your eyes at him. His eyes squint in response.

He did start this, but you wouldn’t let him finish. He was about to open his mouth and say something but you beat him to it.

”I feel bad for you,” you chuckled without any humour in it. “Nobody has shown you enough love in your life, it seems, and you don’t look like anybody who has ever given any ounce of love towards somebody else.”

Even if you meant what you had said, you immediately regretted saying it to his face directly. You bit your lip to stop the yelp that wanted to escape your throat when he gripped your arm fast.

”You don’t know a thing or two about me, princess,” he hissed, his grip on your arm tightening to a point of constriction. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

He pulled you harshly towards him. “What the hell are you doing?” You hissed back at him.

You tried to pry your arms away, but all that did was make his grip tighter. You looked around you and was displeased when nobody had noticed what was going on. Even Yunho was busy discussing with Mingi from where he was.

”Watch your damn mouth around me,” he warned you, his face dangerously close to your own. “You have no idea what I'm capable of.”

”Oh, sure. Says the guy who has a freaking face mask around his face like a little coward,” you sarcastically rebutted.

A deep chuckle hits your ears before he lets go. Nothing in particular happened after that, except for the contents of the project.

“Whoever does the best will be exempted for the rest of the year on exams and will automatically get an A,” Professor Choi bargained, much to everybody’s surprise. “You better do well.”

Damn it, you cursed internally. This project would be the challenge of a lifetime. Soon enough, class was dismissed, and you were determined to set things with Yeosang.

But apparently, he was, too. As usual, the moment class ended, Yeosang was nowhere to be seen. You were about to march off in annoyance when a hand from seemingly out of nowhere materialized and pulled you back in the now-empty classroom.

”I’ll cut this short,” he cleared his throat, as if that would do anything for you since he sounded muffled anyway. “I’ll do all the work, all you have to do is—-”

”And why would you do that?” You raised a brow in irritation, feeling what little left of your patience ebb away. “I’d have you know that I’m not half-bad in things like these.”

He grimaced, his fingers pinching his nose bridge like you were the one stuck-up one and not him. “That’s not what I’m trying to allude to here,” he sighed exasperatedly, eyes closed in deep thought. 

“Really, Yeosang? You want me to believe that?”

He went rigid, one eye opening to stare at you. You were caught off-guard by how heavy and lidded they were as he stared straight at you, unblinking. Was it something you said?

”Fine,” he muttered after what felt like an eternity. “We could do a solo performance and stuff.”

”Are you kidding me? That’s not how this works, and you know it,” you sarcastically remarked, throwing your hands up in frustration. You never thought you’d meet anybody that could make you lose your mind like this after Jongho, it was incredible. “Do you live alone?”

He squinted his eyes immediately. “Yes,” he dragged out slowly. “Why?”

”Perfect,” you murmured. You quickly dug into your pocket for your phone and handed it to him. ”Here.”

He frowned, staring at your phone as if you were offering him some sort of alien symbiote and was planning to annihilate him. You jutted your phone towards him again even firmer when he didn’t move. “Well?”

“Hold on a minute,” he blurted out, breaking character for just a second. “Why my house? This is your idea, your house should be the available one, not mine.”

“You think I want to get inside the house of somebody that clearly has distaste for me? I think the hell not,” you counteracted. “I don’t live alone. I have two roommates, one of which you accused me of screwing. I would never live it down if they saw you with me.”

”So please,” you continued, pressing the phone on his chest this time. “Take the phone, put your number in, and your house address, please.”

Yeosang snatched your phone rather rudely, glaring at you scathingly before doing as he was told anyway. You internally rolled your eyes at how ridiculous this all was. But at the same time, you were trying not to explode. Despite the circumstance, you couldn’t believe you were getting your crush’s phone number.

“If you show up randomly at my house one day, I will end you,“ he snarled menacingly, tossing your phone callously for you to catch in the air. “I mean it, you better not.”

“You’re not all that,” you scoffed, annoyed that he would just throw your phone like that. “I might turn into an asshole like you if I absorb all the bad juju you seem to be getting from somewhere.”

You didn’t mean to say it like that, and truth be told, you weren’t one to fight fire with fire - stone with boulder. But the things he’s been saying has been setting you off on your rocker, a taste of it wouldn’t hurt him.

Right?

“I wouldn’t say that just yet,” he sneered. “Famous last words, princess. Nobody knows what the future holds, do they?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically at him, opting not to question him when he led you out of the classroom, opening the door for you to go through. “Anyway, we do this my way, or I’m dropping you,” he mustered up, adjusting his mask a bit as we walked.

“I don’t care, honestly, I just want to pass,” you truthfully said. You heard him sigh irritatingly under his breath.”How do you propose we do this, then?”

“Do you have more classes today?” Yeosang asked, brows furrowed from above that mask. You shook your head in denial. He nodded in acknowledgement. “Great. Let’s head to that cafe near here. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

He began walking faster. You could barely keep up with him, Yeosang was of average height, however, his legs were long, you noticed, while yours were a poor excuse for a pair. 

“Wow,” you whistled. “I’m not even going to question why you hate me this much, but okay.”

He laughed, the baritone timbre of his voice enhancing the quality of that beautiful sound. “I don’t hate you. Hate is quite the word,” he scoffed. “It’s strong. You don’t matter enough to me for me to spend strong emotions on.”

Your steps faltered a bit. It felt like a physical blow to your chest and tendrils started to wrap around your heart, squeezing it bit by bit until it was fully constricting against your ribcage. What he said stung more than you’d like to admit.

You couldn’t concentrate when you got in the cafe and sat down. You realized that it was the same cafe you had brunch in with Jongho and Yunho. What he said was all you could think about was all you could think about, were you really that bad? 

Yeosang sat in front of you, tinkering on his phone and not paying attention to you for the time being. Not that you wanted him to, anyway, because if he did, he’d see the tears that were starting to form in your eyes.

Yeosang stood up, pocketing his phone, and walked away without even telling you, even out of courtesy and respect, and without looking in your direction. Another blow hit your chest then and there.

You took that opportunity to wipe your tears away, lifting your arm so you could use your sleeves to do so. There was no finesse in it, but you didn’t care. You felt ridiculous, but you felt bad for yourself.

Your head sprung up when something was suddenly placed on the table within your line of vision. Your brows shot up ever so slightly when you registered that it was a cup of hot, steaming, delicious chocolate. Your head snapped towards Yeosang, who just tilted his head at you.

“No ‘thank you’? Damn,” he said sarcastically, pulling on his chair and taking his place back in front of you. He leans forward, his eyes piercing straight onto yours. “Drink. I don’t want people thinking I’m abusing you or something, I’m already stigmatized as is.”

”What in the hell are you talking about?” You blurted out, tentatively reaching out, wrapping your hands around the mug. Warmth immediately spreads through them, seeping deep inside you and reaching the deepest creases of your heart. “T-thank you.”

You went rigid, your muscles tightening against your body, when Yeosang’s finger wipes a lone tear on the side of your right eye. When he pulled away, you immediately started to sip on your chocolate, cursing internally when it started to burn on your tongue, but you didn’t relent. It was a sign that you were truly alive and not dreaming at all.

”Good?” Yeosang raised his brow tentatively.

You nodded a little more enthusiastically than you’d expect yourself to do so. “What about you? I-I can get you one, if you’d like.”

“If I really wanted one, I would’ve gotten one, myself,” he scoffed. This time, you ignored how rude he was, but only for today. He lazily pointed at his face. “Plus, I have this stupid mask.”

You bit your lip, pausing before continuing. “Just take it off.”

Your heart started to pound uncontrollably at that aspect You were already infatuated with this brute with that thing on, what more if he actually took it off?

”Don’t push it, princess,” he snorted, a hint of amusement tinged in his voice. You watched as he took out his laptop from his sling bag, setting it down the table before he looked at you once more. “Shall we start?”

You and Yeosang quickly learned a routine that worked for both of your schedules. You you had to up your meetings from once a week to four times a week just so everything was perfect. You both wanted that exception next semester.

Unfortunately for you, your crush with Yeosang worsened the more time you spent with him. He was everything you liked in somebody, and as rude as his attitude and insensitive his mouth was, you could tell that deep down, you knew that he wasn’t a bad person.

And of course, you still don’t know what he looked like; not entirely, anyway. He never slipped and took it off, not once. Whenever he’d drink something, all he had to do was slip the straw from underneath the mask and drink away, or when he ate, he would lift the mask a bit underneath as well.

It bummed you out, but you respected his choice. Besides, it’s just, well, a face. It wasn’t a deal breaker or anything. Call it an added bonus to the enigma that was Kang Yeosang.

You yelped when something hit the top of your head. Your hands immediately found their place on your scalp, frowning and giving Yeosang a small glare for having the audacity to hit you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped, setting down the book he used to bonk your head on his lap before he crossed his arms and glared at you. “Were you even paying attention to what I was saying?”

”O-Of course I was,” you said without thinking.

“Oh? What did I say, then?”

”That I’m the bestest partner ever and that you were going to treat me for some ice cream after this?” You peered at him, exaggerating your actions because you knew that would agitate him.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought,” he sneered, moving to grab the book again but stopping midway to take a breathe to prevent himself from potentially committing a crime.

You giggled, covering your mouth with your palms to stop the loud snorts that made you look unlady-like. “Did I hear that right? Goody two-shoes, Kang Yeosang, cursing like a sailor?”

“Yes, because you are the most irritating person I’ve had the displeasure of ever meeting,” he declared dryly. “What are you going to fucking do about it?”

This time, you didn’t even bother to cover your mouth at all and just let loose. Your laugh made your belly hurt, but it made your heart soar. You forgot the last time you just laughed and didn’t care.

”Keep it down, you’re attracting unwanted attention,” he hissed, but it didn’t have that usual intensity in it, as he looked around cautiously before he stared down the floor like he always did.

The both of you were in the campus cafeteria. You weren’t in the mood to go back to that cafe, and Yeosang wasn’t feeling it either, so the cafeteria was the only option left to go.

You weren’t privy to all the stares that were being sent in your direction, not entirely oblivious of what they’re all thinking. But mostly, they were wondering what was funny, especially because it was Yeosang with you.

”Hey,” you softly called out. He didn't meet your eye, but he nodded slightly to signify that he was listening to you. 

You tapped on his hand with your finger once before pulling away. That got his attention and he finally looked at you. “Don’t mind them, they’re idiots,” you reassured. “I think you’re really cool.”

He smirked, tilting his head in curiosity. “You don’t know squat about me, that’s some high-praise for someone who’s practically a stranger to you, little princess.”

Little princess. You swallowed the blush that threatened to warm your cheeks. “I already know what I need the most,” you shrugged, sincerity coating your voice. “You’re literally the smartest person I know, seriously, how do you do it? And I like your mentality, fuck all these people, you know?”

He stayed silent. Usually, you’d hear an insult or two from him by now, but all he did was stare at you intently, his eyes getting shrouded by an emotion you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. It wasn’t malice, and it definitely wasn’t acknowledgement, but you found that you didn’t mind this look on Yeosang. He looked freer this way.

“You remind me of someone,” he suddenly spoke up. Your curiosity peaked with how far away he suddenly looked. “He was the only one who was more annoying than you, and that’s saying a lot, if you could believe it.”

He sounded so nostalgic, and you were savouring this. If he wasn’t being an asshole, he’d have a point most of the time, because he was right, you knew virtually nothing about him. It wasn’t always where Yeosang would divulge in his personal life with you or in general.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you remarked, making him roll his eyes so far back in his head, you were surprised they didn’t get stuck in there. “Anyway, is he your friend?”

“The bestest,”  he immediately answered, sighing afterwads. You pursed your lips,  you knew that he didn’t mean to do so.

You hesitated for a bit in fear of saying something you knew he wouldn’t like. Yeosang was what you would describe as a ticking time-bomb - you just never knew what would set him off. “Did something happen between you and him?”

He seemed to realize that he was oversharing. Much to your dismay, his eyes immediately hardened, his eyes brewing a storm that permanently seemed to cause his mind turbulence.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, changing the topic like a tidal wave that knew no consistency. It matched that of his personality so well. “I don’t have any classes for the next few days. I got exempted from all of them.”

You scoffed in awe and disbelief before you could stop yourself. It certainly earned you a nasty glare from him. Of course, you thought. This man was literally a genius. Something tells you that boredom is the biggest reason why he hasn’t gotten himself exempted from the rest of his classes.

“What are you trying to tell me? Are you perhaps,” you smirked as nasty as he was glaring at you. “Are you perhaps telling me that you’re going to miss me?”

You were kidding - well, mostly, anyway. As expected, he growled and pushed your shoulder roughly in an attempt to wake you up from your delusional thoughts.

”I’ll miss my peace of mind, that’s what,” he rolled his eyes. “Can you be for damn real for once in your miserable life? I really want to get this stupid project done.”

For some reason, that response brought you relief more than the usual sting you’d feel in your chest. You’ve spent enough time with Yeosang to know that he didn’t mean what he said eight out of ten times. The bar was that low. But the truth was, you knew you’d malfunction if he said that he would miss you.

“Do you still have the address that I gave you?” Yeosang questioned gruffly. He was in the process of putting away all his class notes in that stylish sling bag he always had on him. 

You nodded. “I do. But wait, where are you going?”

He raised a brow. “You’re not my keeper,” he clicked his tongue, standing up and adjusting the bag on his shoulder across his chest. “I’m going home, if you must know. I need to meditate and ask the Lord for some patience for when you go to my house this week.”

You blinked, eyes widened owlishly, repeating the action over and over again just so you were sure you heard him right. Yeah, you were definitely malfunctioning as is.

”I’ll text you the details,” he turned around and began to walk away, leaving you to your seat alone - nobody wanted to sit with you and Yeosang - for your thoughts to wander and go haywire.

Sputtering, you stood up and called to him, ignoring the odd looks you received from the students around. “A-Are you sure?“

He paused from walking, not bothering to turn around. He raised his hand and waved from behind. “Bye, Y/N.”

You were dazed the entire day, not being able to concentrate on the rest of your class, your heart doing somersaults in your chest that felt too giddy for you to relax. Excitement rolled off of you in waves and all you could do was imagine what Yeosang would be like in the comfort of his own house.

But the first thing you thought of was his face. Would he remove the mask? Surely, it gets stuffy and musty wearing it the entire day, and plus, you knew how uncomfortable it could get the longer you wore it, not to mention how it could clog your skin.

Of course, the thought did cross your mind once or twice - was he wearing it because he has something to hide? You always mentally slapped yourself whenever this would cross your mind, everybody was judgmental to a certain extent, but you tried your damned hardest to not consciously do it and make an effort to always remind yourself that it isn’t good to judge people because they all have their own stories.

However, the longer you thought of this, you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t care what was under that mask. Over the month and a couple of weeks, you have come to truly enjoy Yeosang’s company a lot, regardless if he felt the same or not.

You received the awaited text the following night. A laugh bubbled up from your chest when you opened the message like a child opening up presents during Christmas. You found it adorable that his personality also seeped in through his texts. 

‘Tomorrow. Three in the afternoon. Bring your laptop, but no food since I will provide it. Be on your best behaviour, I have a dog I will not hesitate to sic on you.’

“Wow,” Yunho whistled the next day, tossing the phone back at you after reading the text message with a small chuckle. “What a douchebag.”

You replied with a dry chuckle of your own, lifting a dress you snatched from your dresser, hanger still attached and all, and laid it across the bed, beside the area where Yunho was currently sitting down. He stared at the black dress with a scoff.

”Girl, this is a study session, not a funeral,” he chortled. “Then again, if he actually has a dog, it might as well be.”

A shiver passed through you, but you gave him a stern look, anyway. “Quiet, you,” you hissed. “I don’t fucking know what to wear, I don’t want to look like a bum, but I don’t want to try too hard, either!”

“Are you trying to do that project, stupid, by the way, or are you trying to get laid?” Jongho blurted out bluntly from across Yunho, lifting the dress and inspecting it. “If you’re going for the latter, this isn’t the way to go.”

You blushed furiously, slapping your cheeks to conceal the fact, but it was already too late. You loved these two to death, but sometimes, you were just ready to not be roommates with them anymore when they both made fun of you.

“Choi Jongho, I will end you,” you seethed.

He raised his hands defensively in surrender. “Relax, tiger. Just go for a white shirt and some jeans, it’s comfortable and effective. I can tell you right now, he literally wouldn’t give a shit.”

He made it a point to raid your closet himself. “In fact,” he continued, yelping a bit when he suddenly lifted your bra and tossed it like it was bacterial. “He definitely won’t notice, trust me.”

You were mortified, but so was Yunho when said bra landed on his lap. He shrugged it off like it, too, was infectious. “Goddamn it, Y/N, clean your fucking closet,” he groaned. “But I agree. He has that thing literally on his face 24/7, I highly doubt he’ll notice anything else.”

“Here. I got this for you on your birthday, it’s high time you wear it now,” Jongho haphazardly tossed some clothes directly on your face callously. “Hurry up, it’s almost three. He won’t let you in if you’re late.”

”That’s comforting,” you remarked sarcastically. 

Luckily, in your apartment, there was a walk-in closet - perks of living with an affluent roommate like Jongho - and so, you walked in there to change in your own privacy, but you didn’t shut the door so you could still talk to the both of them as you changed. 

You noticed that Jongho had, indeed, given you a simple white shirt and some jeans, but he also handed you the hoodie he had given you. With that, you began to undress and change.

”How’s your project coming along, Yun?” You asked to fill in the silence.

”Good, actually. Mingi is really good at these things,” Yunho answered cheerfully. “We’ve decided to just do a short dance number, he’ll do a remix and I’ll choreograph for us.”

“Mingi dances?” Jongho asked in surprise. 

“Oh, I didn’t tell you guys? Mingi and I used to go to the same dance school before he moved away during high school,” he explained. “This isn’t the first time we’ve worked together, so it helps, you know?”

You were happy for Yunho, and if you were honest, even though Yeosang and you haven’t decided on what to do yet, you were pretty content in being his partner. You paused, however, a line of thought suddenly crossed your mind.

“Hey, Jjong?”

“Here,” the latter answered.

You bit your bottom lip, not really sure how to articulate the thoughts plaguing your mind into coherent words. “Do you have any idea if Yeosang is also inclined in the arts?”

The arts, meaning dancing and singing. There was a fat pause on the other side of the room. You heard Jongho sigh, the springs of your bed sinking down as he sat on it. “Yeah, he is,” he confirmed. “You’re going to find out the rest by yourself, I’m not willing to divulge the rest.”

“No, that’s all I wanted to know. He literally wouldn’t touch me with a ten-feet poll, let alone tell me the juicy details of his life,” you snorted. “Hell, I don’t even know what the guy looks like.”

Yunho made a sound, likely thinking the same thing as you were at the same time as you heard movement on the bed once more. And he asked the same question you had in your head, “Do you know what he looks like?” 

“Of course, I do,” Jongho said incredulously as if he was offended that he was even asked in the first place, until he realized the reason. “Well—“

”Wait,” you interrupted abruptly. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know, I will not disrespect his privacy unless he tells me himself.”

You were tempted, who wouldn’t be? Your big, beaming crush on the guy, alone, was enough for you to be curious to know what’s underneath, but it just felt wrong. 

They both laughed out loud the moment you opened the door to go back in the room. “Damn, you’re down bad,” Yunho slapped his thighs in amusement as he laughed even more. 

“Haha,” your voice dripped with sarcasm. You went past them to grab your things and headed towards the door. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Ew, I don’t want to know if you guys end up fucking or something,” Jongho gagged exaggeratingly, making Yunho laugh even harder, his entire body contorting with how hard he was laughing.

When you started driving, your brows shot up in mild surprise when you realized that Yeosang’s place was a lot closer than you thought it was. In fact, if you jacked on the gas, you could get there within ten minutes. 

Your hands gripped on the wheel the more your mind worked on itself - there was a huge possibility that you and Yeosang crossed each other’s path at one point and you just never knew. Heat pools in your tummy, he could have been one of the people you encountered everyday and you would be none the wiser because of the mask.

You arrived in no time, and you parked in an even lesser time. An impressive whistle slipped past your lips, this meant that you were on the better side of the city with how easy the accommodation was. When you looked around, every single building looked more modern and sleeker, too.

And you were right. Your mouth hung open ever so slightly when you realized that you were in the affluent area of the city. By all means, you were fortunate to grow up comfortably, but you could still never afford to live in one of the units where Yeosang apparently resided. What’s more, is that he said he lived alone.

You quickly sent a text to him that you were here and put your phone back in your pockets after that quick text. Shame crept in your bones when you looked at your outfit. Had you known that this was where you’d end up going, you would have worn that black dress because as drab as it was, it was elegant enough to fit the opulent vibe of the place. Soon enough, your phone vibrated.

‘Walk in and go straight to the receptionist. Give them my name and press ‘50’ when she leads you to the elevators. It’ll take you directly inside my unit. Don’t forget to take your filthy shoes off.'

You ignored the last statement, your jaw slacking further when you read the message over and over again. Who the hell does that? Geez, you thought incredulously, who the hell has a unit literally connected to the elevators?

But you followed his instructions, anyway. And in no time, the receptionist was leading towards said elevators. She gave you a kind smile as the doors opened and you bowed back politely. The moment you pressed the number, you leaned your back against the walls of the metal box.

It was the last floor on the very top, it made sense that it led directly in his unit. That also meant he had the penthouse. You felt your body ascend slowly, and the best thing you could do was fix your clothes and your hair to make yourself a bit more presentable.

You started to imagine what Yeosang’s space would look like, but more so, you were just curious on what a penthouse would look like since you’ve never been to one before. You scoffed under your breath, Yeosang did seem the type to live in penthouses.

You weren’t expecting anything in general, but however, the last thing you expected was a small presence waiting for you the moment the elevator dinged and the doors parted. 

There it was, with its head tilted, looking at you curiously as you cautiously stepped in Yeosang’s space. This must be the dog, but it wasn’t just a dog. 

You gulped, knees threatening to buckle under your weight, when the dog started to walk forward and sniff your feet, your legs, back to your feet. It definitely intimidated you as you tried to stay absolutely still. 

Yeosang conveniently forgot to tell you that he had a Great Dane. It was so big that if it stood on two paws, it would tower over you.

But all those worries faded away when it yelped a happy yelp and laid down on its back. Her, you found out soon enough, tail wagged back and forth in glee and excitement as her eyes looked up at you, pleading for you to lean down and give her the belly rubs she so wanted.

Who were you to say no to that? 

“Who’s the good girl?! You are, yes, you are,” you giggled incessantly, your hand rubbing on her sweet tummy while your other hand found its way behind her ear. Her happy barks reached your ears and it prompted you to rub faster.

You completely sat down on the floor and patted your thighs. ”Aww, c’mere, you sweet pup, come…”

Your landlord has strict rules against pets, which was such a shame because Jongho wouldn’t have to leave his Persian to his parents and Yunho wouldn’t be going out every so often to spend time with his Golden Retriever at his brother’s place.

”I see you met Nabi.”

You jumped out, startled at the deep, muffled voice that intruded your well-needed little pup therapy. It also startled the dog, whose head rested on your lap, and you couldn't help but feel bad. You were about to give Yeosang a piece of your mind, but when you turned around, you wanted to whine just like her, maybe a bit worse.

He still wore that mask, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. Yeosang leaned casually against the wall behind you, his hair was completely unstyled, a stark contrast to the prim and proper hair he sported on campus. 

But what really got you was his even more casual outfit, it was dangerous. He wore a body-fitting tank top, and you tried not to drool at his exposed arms and the way they absolutely flexed whenever he moved even a single inch. Your eyes traced the veins that were deliciously spread all throughout his hands all the way to his forearms.

And by God, the way his sweatpants hung alarmingly low against his hip bones. And then, his brow slowly lifted, his eyes shining in mischief. It was your cue to look away in shame, because you knew that he knew.

You didn’t say anything when he leaned down, lifting the mid-ends of his pants as he squatted down. He looked you in the eye as his hands slowly started to rub the back of Nabi’s other ear.

”That’s a good girl,” he whispered.

You didn’t even know what to say, you can’t just assume that he was doing what you thought he was actually doing. You stayed silent, not breaking eye contact with him until he stood back up and walked inside. 

“Go sit on the couch so you can settle down. You can leave your things on the coffee table,” he murmured, Nabi hot on his tail as he walked away.

If it wasn’t even more possible, your jaw dropped when you finally took in the interior of the penthouse. It was the epitome of opulence and luxury. The theme was the classic marbled black-and-white overalls, the space was neat, and if it wasn’t for the crystal chandelier hanging from above you, you would have spent more time just looking around. Not to mention, the grand staircase towards the corner that leads to the second floor. 

Yeosang stood by the kitchenette, tinkering at whatever. It was state-of-the-art, but what really made you fall in love was the huge glass window behind him that overlooked the entire city. You bet it would look stunning during nighttime.

Despite your awe, you couldn’t help but blurt out, ”Who are you?”

”Uh, Kang Yeosang,” he replied absentmindedly. Your lips quivered in an effort to not chuckle, “Anything to drink?”

“Just water,” you replied.

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “I should have specified for you to also bring your brain when you come. You didn’t come all the way here for just water.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes in offense. “Coffee, then?”

You expected him to say ‘no’ and tell you to, frankly, to fuck off and be serious, but your heart thumped in your chest when he immediately went to work without saying anything.

You watched him move as he grabbed a cup and set it down. It made sense now, he’s always had this elegance to him when he moved and talked, even though he was rude most of the time, and he had this air of grandeur to him that you couldn’t explain.

Your heart was close to flatlining when he wordlessly gave you the freshly made cup of coffee, and it tasted exactly like the one you always order at the cafe you and him always meet up for the project. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He hummed in response, setting himself down on the couch across you and relaxing into it. You took great effort to ignore his arms once more. “I think I have an idea on what to do for the project,” he said, directly to the point. “If you’re okay with it.”

You breath hitched, He’s never wanted your approval before. You stared at him expectantly and waited for him to continue. “Don’t make fun of me,” he blurted out. The way he wrung his hands together gave out his nervousness. “Maybe we could just sing a song together.”

You almost dropped the cup on the table that probably cost more than your life. You were expecting a lot of things, but you weren’t expecting that. But then again, Jongho did say Yeosang was inclined in the arts.

“Why would I make fun of that?” You asked truthfully with genuine confusion. “That sounds like a lovely idea. I was in choir until middle school, it’s good on my end.”

Yeosang didn’t say anything. He stared at you deeply, intently. His eyes held something you’ve never seen before - vulnerability. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile, one you knew he wouldn’t reciprocate, but you did it, anyway.

But he did. Even though you couldn’t see his lips, his eyes squinted at the gesture. Just about when your heart was about to give out, you just had to find out that Yeosang’s eyes smiled with him.

“Can I tell you something?” Yeosang asked, softness coating his voice, his body visibly relaxing even more from where he sat. 

“You can tell me anything,” you chirped up. “What friends are for, right?”

His eyes drooped, hooding ever so slightly before he shook his head, a deep chuckle escaping from his lips. You bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming, you believed this was the first time that he actually produced such a sound without being sarcastic or pretentious.

“You are definitely something, Y/N,” he whispered, more to himself, but you heard it. “Anyway, I know how to sing. Uhm, I was training to be an idol. I did it for years before stopping entirely.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, heat coursing through your veins at the newfound information that you also realized that Yeosang divulged by his own accord. You cleared your throat to cover the blush that spread through your cheeks and ears. You would literally kill anyone and anything to be able to witness Yeosang as an idol.

”Was? Is there a reason why you stopped?” You asked softly, trying to be as respectful as you possibly can so you wouldn’t turn him off. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel like you were trying to intrude.

He paused, sighing deeply and exhaling slowly as he closed his eyes and leaned his back down the couch, almost slouching. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” you conceded, nodding towards him.

He opened one eye, staring at you from his peripheral vision. You tried to ignore how long his lashes were even from where you were. “Just like that? You’re not going to ask me why?”

You were taken aback, beyond confused at what he was insinuating. Your heart bled for this man, just what has he gone through?

”Uhm, no, why should I? It’s disrespectful,” you supplied truthfully. “You’re not obligated to tell me, or anyone in general, anything. You don’t owe me, but I’ll lend you an ear whenever you are ready.”

He stared at you with clouded eyes. The thing with Yeosang that you liked was that he wasn’t a liar - what you see with him is what you get - but this time, you couldn’t decipher what lay beneath those enthralling eyes. The closest would be soul-searching but you’d have to be a fool to actually believe that. 

The longer he stared, the more it morphed, transforming into something you finally understood. They were full of hope, those bright eyes shining and reflecting your faltering gaze. Yeosang was the hope that whispered of the sun. 

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing vertically at the motion. “Would you like to start over with me?” Yeosang scoots closer and juts his hand out for you to take. “Hi, I’m Kang Yeosang.”

You tilted your head, smiling through your teeth as you took his hand, squeezing it lightly as you shook it. “L/N Y/N.”

Things were never truly the same after that. Yeosang’s mouth, as kissable as it looked, was still brutish and blunt, and you were still that blubbering mess around him whenever he’d get a bit too close for comfort, but everything has changed.

You’d keep coming back to his place and Yeosang would always invite you under the pretense of practicing for the performance, but the two of you always ended up doing something else, instead; something more fun.

There was nothing set in stone, the other day, he showed you his drone collection and even let you fly one of them since you mentioned offhandedly that you’ve never tried to before.

Needless to say, you had no talent for this. You had a heavy hand with no coordination.

”Hey, hey, if you break that, I’ll break you,” he hissed when you accidentally manoeuvered the flying robot by mistake and almost crashed it onto the nearby concrete wall.

”I-I’m sorry,” you blurted out, trying hard to set it down before you damaged it. You knew it cost a pretty penny. The both of you were currently on his balcony, fifty stories high. One wrong move could make it crash all the way down.

He sighed exasperatedly, gesturing for you to come closer. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

You were expecting him to just take the remote control away from you, but you were rendered speechless when he pulled your arm and guided you in front of him. He positioned himself comfortably behind you, his hand grabbing onto yours as he did, indeed, help you with the drone.

”The trick is to be gentle with this button,” he murmured, breath tickling the shell of your ear, his fingers guiding yours on said button.

You were surprised you didn’t disintegrate on the spot. What could have, however, was when you tried to teach Yeosang how to cook the next time. 

You didn’t start out being a good cook, but living with Jongho and Yunho taught you over the years. Yunho could burn water and Jongho always spent an exorbitant amount of money on take-outs that didn’t even offer an ounce of health in them.

“You’re literally doing well,” you cheered him on as he tried to toss the ingredients for the pasta dish you were guiding him to make for lunch. “It’s easy, isn’t it?”

”Sure,” he sneered, startling himself when the oil in the pan began to crackle. “If you’re trying to get food poisoning, it is.”

”Stop setting yourself up for failure,” you rolled your eyes. You nudged a bottle towards him, sliding it against the counter for him to take. “Here, wine. Take it.”

You snorted at the wild and confused look on his face as he tried to sauté some shrimp. “I don’t drink,” he sputtered out.

It was moments like these that prevent you from regretting how bad you two started from before. If you knew you’d always end up here, you would do it all over again without any hesitation. You laughed, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. That was another thing, skinship wasn’t lost on the both of you now.

”No, dummy,” you laughed. “It’s for the pasta. Pour a little to deglaze the pan, it’s good for flavour.”

He still looked confused, but ,nonetheless, still grabbed the bottle. It shouldn’t be difficult, right?

“W-Wait, Yeosang, do it slowly, wait—-“

But it was too late. He had managed to pour half of its content straight onto the pan, causing blue fire to rise up and almost hit both of you in the face. 

“The fuck was that? Was that normal?” Yeosang hissed, tentatively stepping back from the flames.

”Well, no, you were supposed to do it slowly—-”

”Then why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

”Because it was common sense!”

It became a routine, minus the drones - you were definitely going to break them one way or another. It was so easy to fall for this man, but it was also so easy to get your heart broken by the same man.

He even lets you take Nabi out for a walk when he’d get too tired to do so. You took that task proudly and quite seriously.

”Wouldn’t want your dad laying it out on me now,” you’d giggle while giving Nabi the ear rubs you knew she loved.

You get it, though. Nabi was one energetic pup, and on one particular day where she wore you out, you didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep on the couch, not that Yeosang minded. You knew that he didn’t mind.

Your eyes started to flutter awake, still dazed from that afternoon nap that you took, but then you realized what actually woke you up.

Everything came to you bit by bit. They say that the first thing to come and leave both in life and death was the sense of touch. It was soft, you noticed. And warm. You were laying on soft, pillowy thighs. Dazed as you were, you weren’t an all-rounder idiot; you knew it was Yeosang’s. You smile to yourself, you knew you didn’t fall asleep on his lap earlier.

But you were completely done for when you felt a hand, fingers to be specific, run slowly through your hair over and over again. You wanted to groan in contentment, no wonder Nabi likes rubs.

What truly woke you up, however, was his voice. Shivers traveled your arms all the way to your neck, you didn’t even need to strain your ears; Yeosang was singing. It was the song you’d both decided to perform, but you’d actually never heard him try and sing it before. 

It waa supposed to be a jolly tune, something awe-inspiring, but when it came from him, it sounded almost melancholic akin to a lullaby meant to reminisce rather than fill your heart with merry and joy.

He stopped, so did his fingers. “I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

You pouted, wanting to hear more. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you rose up from his lap, your body protesting from the lack of his warmth, voice hoarse from the prolonged unuse. “How long have I been sleeping on your lap?”

He stared at you like he always did, and you wanted to know why because its intensity was strong, but it was impossible to know without asking, because in truth, you were scared to find out.

“You should just stay for the night,” he mumbled, sitting straight up, his form rigid. “I have a guest room upstairs, and frankly, I feel uncomfortable letting you drive out this late.”

Looking around, it wasn’t difficult to deduce that it was well late into the night even though your mind wasn’t all there yet. You gulped, the offer was too tempting to not consider, but you had to go. You just knew that you weren’t going to sleep properly if you stayed.

Yeosang sighed deeply, standing up straight to face you. “Let me walk you to your car, then.”

You blushed in embarrassment. He must’ve seen the hesitation on your face. “O-Oh, there’s really no need—-”

”Let me walk you to your car, at least,” he repeated, one brow arched, his voice firmer and more resolute. It left you no room for any arguments. “Here.”

A startled ‘oof’ leaves your lips when the hoodie that he threw at you hits you square in the face. He rolled his eyes dramatically when you stared at it as if it were an abomination. He snatched it back harshly.

”God, it’s like taking care of a fucking child with you. Raise your arms,” he clicked his tongue, putting his hoodie on for you, looping your arms carefully in. 

If asking to stay the night wasn’t intimate enough for you, this definitely was. When he was done, he held your hand and started guiding you outside. It would have been funny, since it looked like a parent leading their unruly child, if you didn’t feel like you were going to combust on the spot.

It felt like you were on autopilot. Even when you sat in your car, your muscles felt so rigid and robotic. When he leaned down from the outside, his head peeking at you by the window, his toned arms hanging and leaning on the roof. “Drive safe, yeah?”

”W-what about this?”

You bunched up the hoodie in an attempt to take it off, but he stopped you. “Return it next time,” he mumbled.

You nodded, and he returned it with a curt one, patting the roof of your car before he turned around and jogged back inside. You felt slightly bad, he did give you his hoodie, after all, and he only had a tank top on.

You were completely out of it when you drove home, to the point that you reached your apartment without even realizing it. A silent scream threatens to escape your mouth as you bumped your forehead on the steering wheel, there was a faint blush on your cheeks at everything that happened.

You slept on your crush’s lap, and you even got to wear his hoodie. 

You carefully closed your bedroom door so as not to disturb Jongho and Yunho, who you knew were both sleeping since it was late, and as if it was timed, your phone vibrated in your pockets. You didn’t need to look at the ID to know who it was.

“Did you get home safely?” Yeosang’s comforting voice floods your ears, effectively soothing you and making you smile.

“Mhhm,” you hummed exhaustedly, taking your pants off, but not the hoodie, and plopping down unceremoniously on your bed. “You’re worried about me, the world must be ending soon.”

He mumbled a curse so crass, it made you giggle under your breath. “If you die on the way back, who would be my source of entertainment?” Yeosang deadpanned. A shuffling sound on his end tells you that he’s also laying down on his bed. “I’ll be bored.”

“Wow. Good to know I’m nothing but your source of fun,” you scoffed.

“What can I say? Your misery feeds my fun,” he flatly said. There was a pause on the line before a small sigh sounded. “Princess?”

That nickname will always make your heart sing no matter how much time passes. You hummed in response. “Hmm?”

“Would you like to come over again tomorrow? Forget about the project for a while, I just want to watch a movie with you,” he murmured.

Your heart warmed, you’ve never heard him sound like this before. You’ve made up your mind before he even finished talking. “Only if you let me choose the movie,” you grinned.

”Deal,” he laughed. “I’ll pick you up in the afternoon, sounds good?”

“Sounds good,” you affirmed, kicking your feet up in the air repeatedly. You reckon you resembled a flopping fish out of water right now, but you could care less. You had to bite onto your fist to stop yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs.

He said goodnight and was about to hang up, when you stopped him. “Yeosang.”

He hummed, clearly off guard at the sound of his name. “You have a beautiful voice,” you whispered, referring to his singing when you woke up from your nap. “You would have been a fantastic idol.”

He chuckled. “Good night, princess.”

You hugged your phone close to your chest, a grin stretching out from your lips so wide, your mouth was starting to ache a bit, but the high and ecstasy wasn’t going to go down easily. 

Tonight, sleep came easily to you. Yeosang’s hoodie comforted you, wrapped you in the solace you didn’t know you were missing. His scent gave you the calm that you didn’t mind getting off of.

And tomorrow couldn’t have come any faster. You didn’t tell Jongho and Yunho what you were going to do - the teasing would only get worse from then on - but they did give you odd looks here and there.

“Nice hoodie,” Jongho commented out of the blue while you were waiting for Yeosang. He squints his eyes. “It looks familiar, though. Where’d you buy it?”

“I didn’t buy it,” you replied cryptically, earning you a side-glance from Yunho this time.

He was about to say something when you heard a car engine pull up directly in front  of your apartment. The three of you lived on the first floor, so that perk was there. You jumped up excitedly, hastily picking up your purse before dashing out.

”I’ll see you guys later—-” you tried to say before you got pulled back, a hand tugging your arm backwards.

”Hold the hell on, you have a date?” Yunho blurted out, a flabbergasted look on his face present. “Why am I finding this out just now?”

He gives Jongho a look, and the latter’s eyes narrow even further. Jongho’s brow raises before he stalks towards the door. “Let me size up this fucker,” he sneers, cracking his knuckles loudly.

You wiggled your arm free from Yunho to pull Jongho away from the door so you could get out. Your best friends were protective like that. 

“Get back here,” Jongho called out, opening the door wide so he could chase you down. “You can’t just—-wait.”

You were confused, Jongho’s intimidating aura slowly slips out and gives way to confusion all the way to realization. He blanched, face slightly pale as he stared at the car parked just a couple of metres away from where we stood. 

The car window was already open, and Yeosang was already staring at Jongho. He nods once before closing it once again.

“I should have known,” he mumbled, voice dejected before giving you a tight smile. “Call when you need anything.”

He quickly went inside, followed by Yunho who whispered to you the same thing. “Have fun,” he waved before he closed the door.

Yeosang didn't say anything as you both drove away. It wasn’t an awkward type of silence, but you didn’t have the need to fill it. You wanted to give him some space, the way he gripped the steering wheel repeatedly told you everything you needed to know.

Instead, you spent the entire time chastising yourself because your eyes kept traveling at his hands and his face from your peripheral vision. You chose to look out the window, his veiny arms were distracting you a little too much.

He still had the mask on his face but honestly, you didn’t care less anymore. You couldn’t help but also stare at the way he was dressed. He was in casual wear, nothing special, but the way it emphasized his toned chest yet tiny waist got you sweating even though it was quite cool inside the luxurious car he was driving.

“There’s a drive through nearby. I want to get coffee,” he finally spoke. The softness in his voice made your heart pound, it boosted the already intimate setting of being in a car with him.

”Are you going to let me pay for us?” You asked rhetorically.

”Of course,” he shrugged, and you were about to celebrate until he continued. “Of course not.”

You rolled your eyes, an exasperated groan of frustration leaving your lips. The sound makes Yeosang laugh out loud, and he was still laughing even when the drive through speaker crackled on. Cute. 

This was dangerous. You stared at him as he spoke, his deep voice rumbling. It wasn’t fair that his side profile looked this ethereal, but it also wasn’t fair that your heart was slowly giving in to its demands little by little. He didn’t even need to ask what you wanted, he just knew what you needed.

 “Thank you,” you murmured in gratitude when he handed you your iced latte. You grit your teeth when your hands brushed with his as you tried to grab the cup.

The same hand lands gently on your thigh. You thought it was just him being him and he was absentmindedly doing it, but when the searing heat from his palms didn’t relinquish any relief, you couldn’t help but smirk to hide the growing tingle in between your thighs.

”Getting comfortable there,” you said, trying very, very hard not to look at his veiny, masculine hands. It turned you on to no end.

”Does it bother you?” Yeosang asked, not bothering to look at you since he was actually driving. You gulped, the sight of him driving with one hand increased the tingling sensation down there.

“No,” you lied. “Not at all.”

He hummed, giving your thigh a soft squeeze before he resorted to just drawing random lines on it. He made a small sound of surprise. “You work out?”

You blinked repeatedly, not really understanding what he was saying at first. “What? O-Oh, I used to do gymnastics in high school,” you revealed. The activity has made your thighs and legs toned even though you haven’t done heavy routines in a while.

”Used to? How come?”

“Had a nasty concussion. Plus, college was keeping me busy, anyway.”

“Ah,” he acknowledged with a small smirk. “I knew you hit your head somewhere along the line—-”

You playfully pushed his hand away from your thigh. “You ass.”

He laughed, his deep voice rumbling through the small space of the car, and knocking into your heart, as he pulled in in the familiar section of his apartment that led to the parking lot. 

The appreciation you had for this man knew no bounds. During the walk back to his penthouse, no words needed to be said. This was how it was with him, and you didn’t mind at all. The silence was already telling enough.

“Do you like the hoodie?” Yeosang asked the moment he closed the door behind him. 

“I do,” you admitted, grinning as you rubbed Nabi’s beautiful fur, your fingers trailing to the spot behind her ears you knew brought her joy. “Hey, girl.”

”I see,” he murmured, passing you, but not before patting Nabi’s head, and walked towards the staircase. “Follow me,” he beckoned you over with a small wave of his hand.

”Where to?” You asked, following him anyway, albeit reluctantly. 

As you climbed the stairs, something you’ve never done before, let alone go near since you didn’t want to just invade Yeosang’s privacy, especially since you knew that his personal bedroom was located on the second floor of the penthouse.

You will never get used to how simply gorgeous his space was. If you thought that the first floor where his living room was located was jaw-dropping, the second floor was something out-of-this-world. You were able to see the grand chandelier even closer in this section of the penthouse.

Multiple paintings you knew weren’t just ordinary art hung around the walls, which were made out of opulent marble, the swirls of black and white giving the space an elegance you knew cannot just be replicated and duplicated just because.

”Wow,” you whispered, not able to stop yourself in awe.

”Like what you see?” Yeosang asked, his hand absentmindedly trailing over the walls as you both still walked on, you just followed him wherever he took you.

It didn’t take long, and once again, you were in for a wild ride. Soon, the overall theme of the second floor had changed from something bright, to something just a bit darker. The swirled marble of the walls gave way to something pure black, and that included all the paintings, vase, and furniture that surrounded the area. 

“Is this your room? Wow,” you remarked like a little kid in a candy store.

”No,” he shook his head, opening the door to one of the rooms. “This is just a spare bedroom, really. Nobody’s ever used it, so I just store all my old stuff in here.”

You frowned at him. “Nobody? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

You weren’t lying when you said that. You truly found it hard to believe that he has never brought anybody in, whether it be just a couple of close friends, or even a past fling or some hookups. The last sting of thoughts brought on a horrible churning that started deep in your gut area.

”Well, considering that you were the first one I’ve ever willingly brought here, I’d say it’s not really difficult to comprehend,” he shrugged. “My, uhm, father used to own this before he bought another unit. He would use it for his business.”

You stayed silent, following him inside the bedroom, not anymore surprised to find a large theater setup occupying most of the space. This was another instance of him slowly giving you bits and pieces of his life willingly, and you wanted so badly to ask more about what his family business was, but you didn’t. You didn’t miss the way his eyes faltered when he mentioned it.

“You’re telling me you’ve never had, I don’t know,” you bit your lip. “Flings, perhaps?”

”Of course I did,” he raised an offended brow. “I’m not a eunuch, and not to brag, but I’m not that bad looking.”

You blushed. Yeosang’s part down there was the last thing you’d ever want to think about.

“But I’ve never brought them here,” he continued cryptically, his voice not leaving you any thoughts of questioning him, so you decided to let it slide. “Anyway, I’m going to get the snacks downstairs, why don’t you pick a movie?”

You nodded, getting to your feet and caught the remote that he had thrown your way with surprising reflexes. “What movies are you into?”

“I don’t give a shit, really,” he mumbled, walking away to your devices, and for once, you were glad he was walking away. The blush on your cheeks would just never leave. 

You took this opportunity to try and calm yourself as much as you possibly could. Your corrupted brain was pushing this as a possible date between you and Yeosang, and luckily, the sentient part of it kept pushing that thought back, but it was getting more and more difficult to do so. How could you not? You were in the comfort of his home, in one of his rooms, and in a place where he’s never brought anyone before. Or so he says.

You weren't surprised to find a sizable selection for the movies. He had a state-of-the-art setup, you’d be pretty surprised if he didn’t. He told you to pick whatever you liked, but you weren’t the insensitive type, you wanted him to have a say in it, too.

You were about to sit down and just wait for him to come back when your foot had accidentally gotten caught on something when you tried to sit on the bed. You tried to see what it was and your brows lifted in surprise when you realized that you had tripped on a small box.

It was conspicuously tucked away underneath the bed, but the edge of it was slightly jutted out. You didn’t think much of it, you figured that Yeosang had stored other things in here. Maybe there were other movie selections that he’d kept in here.

So when you grabbed the box and opened it, you just simply weren’t expecting what you’d find. You were gravely mistaken, there were no movies in there. You wanted to hit yourself, of course there wouldn’t be, DVDs were a thing of the past!

There was a piece of paper on top of everything. You inspected it carefully, and you realized that there was a name in it. A girl’s name. You frowned, that was the name of the girl who was picked last for the project.

You gasped, dropping the piece of paper in realization. Professor Choi did not accidentally put your name twice in that box.

You rummaged more to see what was in the box. Instead, there were photos - multiple of them. Your eyes weren’t completely taking everything in, but there were a myriad of photographs that ranged from professionally printed ones all the way to the wallet-sized polaroid prints. 

You bit your lip. You really shouldn’t be doing this, you were invading Yeosang’s privacy, and whether he said it or not, you knew that he appreciated that you didn’t pry on the things he wasn’t ready to tell you. 

You wanted badly to know more about Yeosang, but you knew this wasn’t the way to go about it. The box needed to go, and it was about to, but then, you spotted a particular photo that got your attention. You glanced at the door, and with a shaky hand, you took that photo to stare at it closer.

The lump in your throat was making it difficult for you to breathe, you were nervous, but there was no going back from this.  That wasn’t all, however, it was mostly the photo in your hand.

There were two people in the photo you were holding, one of which you’ve never seen before. He was quite handsome, you noted. He had the biggest grin on his face that made him look so young, you could barely see his face, that’s how wide he was smiling. Had the situation been different, you would have been fascinated by how much he resembled a fox.

And then, there was Yeosang. In an unfortunate coincidence, you picked up a photo where he was still covering half of his face, but this time, it wasn’t by a mask, it was his hands. This photo must have been taken mid-laughter by somebody else.

You’ve never seen him this happy before. His eyes were also smiling, but one thing that absolutely got you was that when you looked closer, you were pleasantly surprised to find a small birthmark on the side of his face. You realized that he must’ve been covering it lately with makeup.

When you turned the photo around, there was a name in there. Jung Wooyoung. And there was a note in there too, one that you knew to be Yeosang’s handwriting.

There were only four words written on it - I am so sorry.

You swallowed, clearly, you weren’t supposed to see this. You suddenly remembered Jongho’s words from before - something had happened that made him the way he was now.

Shame crept in from the bottom of your heart, you had to pretend that you didn’t see any of this, you had to put the box back the way you found it and forget that you ever saw that picture. But it was too late.

”What the fuck are you doing?”

You gasped, jumping up from where you were seated down, causing the box to fall from your lap, exposing what you were doing, which was basically snooping in on his privacy against his will and without his permission.

The snacks he was carrying was long forgotten on the floor, for he must’ve dropped it after seeing you look through the photos. 

You were devastated, but he looked even more devastated as he stood from where he was standing, staring at you with the most disappointed eyes. That was the worst part - he didn’t seem angry, not at all. He looked absolutely broken, and it was your fault.

“Y-Yeosang,” you called out, voice wavering as you felt your tears slowly forming in your eyes. “I c-can explain, please—-”

He looked down at the floor, completely avoiding eye contact with you. Only his fists were moving, they were actively shaking. He had a lump in his throat that he gulped in, albeit with difficulty.

”How could you do this to me?” Yeosang questioned, his voice laced with an unmistakable hint of pain and hurt. He lifted his head, and  heart felt like it was getting pulled out of your chest. “How could you?”

You tried walking towards, the photos on the floor long forgotten, but he raised a palm to stop you. “Yeosang,” you called out once more, your desperation seeping out from you.

”I thought you were different,” he chuckled bitterly. He pressed the heel of his palms on his eyes as if he was trying to soothe an oncoming migraine. “But it turns out, you were the worst of them all.”

Your lips quivered, of all the things he had said to you, the things he had insulted you with, this one statement stung the most, mainly because you knew it to be true. You shook your head desperately. “You know it’s not like that,” you cried, ashamed because you didn’t want to lose him, not like this. “I am so, so sorry, Yeosang, please forgive me, I know I was wrong, please.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Y/N,” he commanded venomously, pointing a shaking finger on the direction away from the room. He exhaled a shaky breath. “I never want to see you again.”

That was when your tears started to fall from your eyes. “Don’t say that,” you sobbed. “P-Please don’t say that—“

”Y/N, you know what hurts the most right now?” Yeosang spat out, running a hand on his hair in frustration. “I could handle the daily insults I hear at campus every single day. That’s fine, I don’t owe anyone an explanation, they can say whatever they want.”

”But you,” he gritted his teeth. “I trusted you, more than I’ve ever come to trust myself,” he took a shaky breath in. “I let you in. The thing that hurts me the most is that I’ve come to care for you. I care about you, Y/N. Do you have any idea how much I want to slap myself right now?”

“You’re right, I am so sorry,” your entire body was shaking, your legs almost threatening to give out. “I’m so sorry, Yeosang, please—-”

“You made me look like an idiot,” he declared. “Get out. Please. I won’t tell you again.”

He turned around to walk away, but your impulses took action by suddenly running forward to give Yeosang a hug from behind. He freezes from the action, but all that did was make you hug him tighter.

”Please, don’t push me away, not like this,” your tears were free-falling, soaking his shirt. “I’m begging you, please.”

“Goddamn it, you have no right to do this right now,” he snapped, grabbing your hand to pry it away from himself before grabbing you by the arm and callously dragging you downstairs.

”Yeosang, stop it, stop—-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he hissed, grabbing onto your arm tighter, so tight you were sure he’d leave marks on it hours from now, dragging you roughly, not caring if you stumbled and tripped along the way.

He pulls on his door, giving you one last look before completely pushing you out so harshly, you fell on the floor of the elevator that will lead you out. You looked up at him, fat tears still rolling down your eyes, and he looked straight at you without any emotion as he pressed down the button.

It still didn’t hit you, not until the elevator doors opened again and you realized that you were back in the parking lot. You walked out with your wobbly legs as far as it could take you before completely breaking down on the nearby wall, slumping down and hugging your legs together as you wailed your heart out.

You shouldn’t have done it. He had every right to be furious with you right now, and there was no repairing this, you had broken his trust and that’s not something that would ever be the same again even if you gained it back. 

The rain from above had begun to mix with your tears and soon enough, you were completely soaked from head to toe. You were so deep in your despair that you didn’t even realize that it had begun raining.

Yeosang’s hoodie did nothing to shield you from the bitter cold. There was only so much your body could take until you had begun shivering, and stupidly, you waited a little thinking that maybe, just maybe, Yeosang would change his mind, especially since you didn’t drive here yourself.

But you knew it was never going to happen. Shaking, you got your phone out and dialed the first number that you saw first. You were sniffling hard, your teeth chattering, sobs broken with hiccups here and there.

“Hello?” Yunho’s sweet and comforting voice came through the line.

“Y-Yunho,” you uttered in broken sobs. “C-Can you please pick me up? I need help.”

“Y/N? Are you okay? Hang on,” his frantic voice asked. “Tell me the address, do not go anywhere. I’m on my way.”

You tried your best to describe the location to him before hanging up. You were glad it was Yunho, his name was eerily close to Yeosang’s in your contact list.

You didn’t notice that car that pulled up directly in front of you, startling yourself when an arm started to help you up, handling you with such care you wanted to cry all over again.

“I got you, I got you,” he reassured, not caring if he got wet by the rain, let alone get his car soaked when you sat inside.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Yunho tried to ask, driving out of the parking lot as soon as he possibly could.

You could only shake your head, the words you wanted to tell him caught in your throat. A hoarse and grating sound from your mouth escaped, instead, your lungs wheezing for air the moment your tears started to fall again. The only thing Yunho could do was be patient, even though the sight of you sobbing your heart out squeezed his own.

It had to be bad, he thought. You were never one to cry, you and Jongho were similar in that aspect while he was the odd one out since he was very easily touched. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his foot unconsciously stepping on the gas in an attempt to get back to the apartment faster.

He got out of the car in record speed to pound on the apartment door. An annoyed, but confused, Jongho answered. “Go to my car,” he panted. Jongho was about to ask when Yunho cut him off. “It’s Y/N, it’s really bad, Jjong.”

No words need to be said. Jongho moved past him, not even bothering to put on any shoes, as he ran to his car and practically flung the door open. You felt yourself getting carried, but you didn’t bother to look up, your tears blurring your vision, anyway.

“Bathroom,” Yunho said, sighing in concern as he watched Jongho carry you in his arms. “Do it quickly, she was shivering really bad when I picked her up…”

Jongho laid you down on the tub and began filling it with water so you wouldn’t get sick from the rain while Yunho did his best to tuck your hair out of your face as much as possible and helped you out of the hoodie that was weighing your body down. Deep in your heart, you knew that you owe these two forever.

“What the hell happened?” Jongho questioned, the anger in his voice straining his own throat. “I’m going to strangle him. Did he hurt you?”

You didn’t respond, Jongho had to hold you by the shoulders and shake you a bit. “Did he fucking hurt you?”

“Jongho, cut it out, you’re scaring her,” Yunho hissed, prying the latter’s hands off of you in a rare show of his own anger. He kneeled down, gently holding your eyes with his own. “Y/N? I need you to tell us what happened.”

And so you did. It was difficult on your part because you had to retell everything that happened. The longer you talked, the more pitiful you looked - your voice was almost gone, your cheeks sullen and pale, and your eyes rimmed with reddish and purplish hues due to crying. You could see it in their faces that they agreed with the one thing you told them after - that it was, indeed, your fault. 

“You didn’t know, okay?” Jongho held your head firmly. “You didn’t know. I should’ve emphasized how fucked up he is before you approached him. ”

“Do you know what’s in the box?” Yunho asked curiously.

You hesitated before answering. “A name. Jung Wooyoung.”

Jongho froze, his hands on his head automatically pulling away as if you had burned him. It pretty much confirmed what you already had in mind - the name had something to do with why Yeosang was the way he was.

All the anger he had simmered down faster than you realized. “I see,” Jongho sighed. “That makes a lot of sense now. Wooyoung is very, very important to Yeosang.”

“Still,” Yunho murmured. “How important has this guy gotta be for him to kick her out like an asshole?”

“Very important,” Jongho deadpanned. He heaved a weighted sigh, completely slumping down on the floor beside the tub. “Wooyoung is Yeosang’s half-brother.“

That night, you already knew that you weren’t feeling the best. There was so much information in your head that you wanted to completely forget for now, but how would you do that when even your own body was reminding you about what had happened today?

If Yeosang forgave you one day, you knew you’d still live with the guilt as long as you’re alive.

You had to skip your classes the next day. As you suspected - more like expected - you had raging fever and there was no way you would be able to go anyway, Yunho guarded your door like a hound.

There was a lot of berating on his end, and admittedly, while it was fascinating to see, the sweet Jeong Yunho had disappeared for a bit when you heard an earful from him when you wouldn’t drink your medicine or eat the soup he bought.

But you had to go the day after that. There was only so much leeway Professor Park could give you without you having to take more extracurricular activities after. The project alone was daunting enough.

That was another thing. You had to tell him that this project with Yeosang might be over and that there was a huge possibility that you were opting out now before it even started.

Your phone kept vibrating in between your classes. You knew it was Yunho reminding you to take it easy. Or perhaps, it was Jongho looking for you. You were actively avoiding him because you knew you’d receive an earful too. Between the two, he was definitely more overprotective.

It was pointless, you couldn’t concentrate on anything. The pounding in your head just wasn’t going to go away in a day or two, even though you hoped it did, and your entire body just felt hot to the touch, sweat kept leaking out of your pores at an alarming rate.

You missed Yeosang already. You were so used to hanging out with him the moment you set foot on campus, and you could already hear the whispers of why you were alone while Yeosang was nowhere to be seen.

It certainly made you mad. The assumption was that you finally got sick of Yeosang and had finally opened your eyes to how weird he was. It wasn’t true at all, you wanted to scream at everyone to stop being judgmental, but you couldn’t even stand straight without toppling over.

It was getting difficult to not give in to your fever. You were walking through the hallways of the campus to get to your next class, not to actually go, but to tell your next professor that you couldn’t attend and needed to go home. You were at your limit, especially when you accidentally bumped into a girl in your class. Luckily, she wasn’t salty about it and asked you if you were okay, instead.

You wouldn’t get the opportunity to answer her. It all happened so fast, black spots were covering your vision and you felt your muscles going weak. Soon enough,  your body just gave out on you, and you came tumbling over, passing out in this girl’s arms.

Yeosang saw everything. He hadn’t meant to, he usually took a different hallway to go to his classes since this one was very crowded, but something in his mind just kept telling him to pass through this one just once. 

Nothing mattered to him at that moment. He dropped everything - his books, his coffee, his inhibitions, his anger - and ran towards you, not caring at all the stares he was getting. He didn’t care, not anymore, especially not when it came towards you.

He didn’t even realize that Jongho had gotten to you first. His childhood friend was kneeling on the floor, cradling your head to his chest, his hands tapping your cheeks in an attempt to wake you up. He didn’t care about that either.

”Wait, what in God’s name are you doing?” Jongho was thoroughly surprised when Yeosang pushed him away and grabbed your limp body towards himself. He didn’t even have time to register anything when Yeosang began to carry you in one go as if you didn’t weigh anything.

“What does it look like?” Yeosang snapped. “I’m taking her—-”

“Hell no, you are not,” Jongho gritted his teeth, grabbing onto his arm to try and stop him. His explosion had already caught on to the other students, it was embarrassing.

Yeosang tried to shrug off Jongho’s hand, but he didn’t budge and held tighter. “You are the reason she is sick, bastard,” he hissed under his breath. He was about to say more, but he was caught off guard at the way Yeosang glared at him.

There was an intense, burning rage of fire in those eyes. He’s known Yeosang all his life, yet he has never seen this much emotion in his friend’s eyes. He was a no-nonsense type of man, and the magnitude of his feelings written in those eyes, the possessiveness, he had no choice but to let go and let Yeosang carry you away.

White lights penetrated through your eyelids even when they weren’t open. It was odd, you woke up with your eyes completely closed, but that flashing light was completely blinding you. It was unbearable.

You sat up with a groan, your hands clutching your head to soothe the pounding headache that made you want to split your head in half. The last thing you remembered was falling completely into that void, blackness swallowing you into its chasm, and then, nothing.

There was a small moment of panic that set in when you looked around and realized that you had absolutely no idea where you were. The only reason why you knew that you were back in Yeosang’s apartment was that the bed you were lying on smelled exactly like him; that sweet, musky, earthy scent that invaded your olfactory senses always brought heaven down to you.

A sudden ache clustered behind your eyes, the worst kind. It rendered you weak all over again, like your body was suddenly remembering that it was supposed to be sick. And just like that, you fell back asleep. 

But not for long. You felt something on your forehead, something wet and cold, and it was disrupting your well-needed rest. Your lips were getting parted a bit, an unconscious groan slipped past them.

“Yunho,” you mumbled, voice scratchy, throat itchy with how sore it was becoming.

Yeosang scoffed softly, his grip on the thermometre tightens ever so slightly, his other hand holding the cold towel on your forehead in place, hoping your fever would lessen, if not completely go away. 

You kept mumbling your roommates’ names, specifically Yunho’s. He knew of Yunho, he didn’t mind him, but he’d rather not hear it right now. He’ll let it pass for now, you were quite delirious, after all. It wasn’t something he couldn’t fully blame you for, it was him who was to blame for what happened to you.

His brow raised when your hand suddenly held his, the one holding the towel on your forehead. “Yuyu, cold,” you mumbled.

”Think again, princess,” his left eye twitched in annoyance, but he kept his voice as gentle as possible. 

You opened one eye so as to not overwhelm yourself with the light. Ah, how could you forget? You squeezed his hand slightly. “Yeo,” you smiled a little. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he muttered, trying hard not to squeeze your hand back with the small nickname you gave him this time. “You are in my house, in my bed, calling another man’s name. You tell me.”

You frowned when he leaned away. “Keep that thing on,” he pointed at the cloth on your forehead. “I’ll be back to get some soup.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you weren’t in the mood for soup and that you just wanted to go to sleep, so just watched him walk out of the room. You had no right to complain, your heart was getting warmer in your chest at the thought of Yeosang still taking care of you even when he was mad at you.

People don’t know how pure-hearted this man was, but you knew. You knew.

When sleep was about to come knocking towards you once more, Yeosang had to tap your cheeks a bit to wake you up. He wouldn’t admit it, but it did make him feel bad, but you had to eat to replenish your energy.

“Open up,” he lifted the spoon to feed you, himself. “Don’t soil my bed.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little, the sound of it a bit grating in your ears. His rough-around-the-edges made you feel reassured, like he was never angry at you in the first place. You’d take this over anything any other day.

With his help, you were able to finish the soup very quickly. Here came the hard part, though - you needed to drink some medicine. Your stomach refused to take anything anymore, you didn’t want to throw up.

”Open your mouth,” Yeosang tried to push the pill in your mouth. “I don't want you dying on me.” 

Your fever is taking over your senses now, delirium setting in, and your vision is doubling. “Can I take it later? I really can’t, it’s too bitter,” you whined.

He frowned. “No. I don’t give a damn, take it before I shove it down your throat.”

He sighed exasperatedly when you weren’t letting up. He wasn’t a complete ass, he would never force you to do something you didn’t want to. 

An idea crosses his head. He bit his bottom lip apprehensively, there was one thing he could do, but was it going to be worth it? 

He took a look at your pitiful state. Drops of sweat trickled down your forehead, yet you were still shivering terribly. Your eyes opened and shut themselves repeatedly, yet they remained unfocused on anything.

One thing was for sure - you were still beautiful. The answer wasn’t lost on him.

He takes his mask off, the one that covered the majority of his face, the one he detested yet swore would never take off. He puts the pill on his tongue, grabs your face, then puts his lips against yours.

You mewled, caught off-guard by the suddenness of it, but you were far too gone to notice and care. This was a dream, it had to be. It was the only way to not lose your mind over this. You were too delirious to see his face, and you didn’t realize that you had already swallowed the pill in the heat of the moment.

He pulled away, giving you a small peck on the nose. He walked towards the door to leave, putting his mask back on in the process, but not before looking back at you one more time. It wasn’t the way he would’ve normally done things, but it helped, didn’t it?

”Yeosang, wait,” you mumbled. It came out as a weak call, but at least he heard you when he turned around. You actually didn’t know if he did, but you just hoped he did.

”What?”

“Whatever it is that’s trapping you in your own mind,” you began. You had no idea what compelled you to say it, your delirium was getting to you, but you just had to say it. “Whatever has happened to you, just know that it wasn’t your fault.”

Yeosang froze, his entire body going rigid. “Go back to sleep,” he muttered, teeth gritted. It wasn’t out of anger, it was out of concern.

”Forgive yourself, please,” you coughed one last time before your head hit the pillow to rest. “And forgive me too…”

He wouldn’t go back to that room until the next day. He clearly had a lot to think about.

He was never truly mad at you, not entirely anyway. Rather, he was terrified. He was utterly scared of you finding out the skeletons in his closet before he told you, and he was close, he was so damn close, but when you found out first, he just couldn’t help the anger that filled his veins at that moment.

You slept for another day straight with Yeosang checking in on you once in a while. He didn’t wake you up, you definitely needed that rest to recuperate your energy

Your phone would ring once in a while but Yeosang was quick to assure Yunho, if he called, that you were fine. And if Jongho called, he wouldn’t even bother picking up. He wanted to be petty, what could he say?

By the third day, you were feeling completely fine. You were able to get up on your own and finally shower after staying on the same bed with the same clothes for a couple of days. You were able to deduce that Yeosang had taken you to his other guest room, the one that didn’t have the theater system.

When you got in the bathroom, you were pleasantly surprised to find clothes already provided in there for you. You couldn’t help the beating of your heart, both in adoration with this man and in the hurt you feel for him.

You hugged your knees, huddling in the corner of the shower as your tears mixed with the cascading water from above you. You hoped that it would wash away all the wrongs you’ve done, but you knew it never worked like that. If only things were that easy.

The shower definitely made you feel better, your body was so sore from laying down for days. You needed to stretch, and so when you looked at the time, you realized that it was only seven o’clock in the morning, so you could make breakfast for you and Yeosang.

Your body was on autopilot, years of making breakfast for Jongho and Yunho has trained you for this very moment. You just hoped Yeosang liked what you made, but you would understand if he didn’t.

“Smells good.”

You screeched, jumping a couple of feet away from where you were standing, throwing the spatula you were holding in the air. There he was, standing at the foot of the stairs just watching you.

He sighed, walking and picking up the spatual to hand it over to you. You avoided eye contact with him when he got so close, you could smell him. It makes your head grow weary with dizziness.

“I’m glad the clothes fit you,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “Do you feel better?”

“I-I think so,” you replied, tucking a strand of your hair at the back of your ears, not knowing what to do now that he was directly in front of you like this.  

When you closed your eyes, you envisioned his face. Not in its entirety, however. You could perfectly see his features one by one when he removed the mask that night, but it was difficult to imagine them all together. Redness coloured your cheeks at the very thought of it. 

It wasn’t lost on him what you were thinking. The nervous ticks of your hands and the slightest shift of your body told him everything you needed to know, that you were nervous. 

You were expecting him to reply with something snide, something sarcastic, like he has always done with you. But instead, he heaved a sigh so heavy, it sounded like he was completely giving up and surrendering. “What am I going to do with you?” Yeosang said.

You frowned, looking up at him in apprehension. “W-What do you mean?”

“First, you invade my privacy by snooping around,” he said bluntly. You winced. “And then, you have the audacity to get sick. And now you’re here, making me breakfast you know I wouldn’t eat in front of you.”

You bit your lip, chewing on it nervously. You let out a small gasp when his thumb gently presses on your chin, pulling it down a little to stop you from doing so. “And then do you shit like this,” he whispered.

”I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “I’m so sorry for everything, I didn’t mean to be sick, but I’m very grateful that you took care of me.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, did you really think I’d just leave you hanging like that? Did you honestly think that you weren’t important to me enough?”

You blinked at him owlishly, your mouth opened a little as you stared comically at him. “But, you weren’t wrong,” you gulped, your vulnerability overpowering how nervous you were actually feeling right now. ”I did snoop around but I promise you I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise you—-“

”Shh,” he hushes you, pressing his thumb on your lips this time. “I know, princess, I know,“ he swallowed before continuing. “None of it was your fault, i-it’s all mine. I am so, so sorry, Y/N.”

It hurt you to see him like this, the Yeosang you knew was headstrong, upfront, and outspoken. The Yeosang in front of you right now was vulnerable, just like you, nervous, and hesitant to say what was on his mind. His eyes bore into you, they shone with endearment towards you.

His hand makes way to your cheeks, his hand cupping your face tenderly. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered, a tone I’ve never heard from him before. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

You sniffled, forcing a smile on your face. “Nah, you can’t get rid of me that easily,“ you chuckled. “I’m strong, aren’t I? Cheer up, Yeo.”

His hand itched to pull your head closer. “I’ve always liked it when you call my name like that,” he confessed, testing the waters by taking one step closer towards you. “When all you hear everywhere is ‘freak’, it sounds like a treat, you know?”

“I’m the only one who should matter,” you blurted out without thinking. “Those people don’t deserve you, they don’t deserve the smart, kind, empathetic person that you are, they just don’t.”

You saw Yeosang close his eyes slowly, his entire body trembling as he held you. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he muttered, both of his hands holding your face this time. “I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Don’t say that—-”

“I told myself to not cross this line before,” he said, walking forward, his hand pushing you backwards until you hit the countertop with your behind. “So I pushed you down a million times, but the truth was, I’d love it if you knew that you were on my mind.”

Your heart was constricting, shrinking on itself, that it hurt to even breathe. The vulnerability in his eyes was making you tear up. You purse your lips to stop yourself from tearing up then and there. “Do you remember what you told me the other night?” Yeosang asked you, his hand going behind your neck. 

You shook your head, not because you didn’t truly remember, but because you can’t even describe what you’re truly feeling right now. “You told me to forgive myself,” he murmured. “But how am I supposed to do that when I was this close to losing you because of some misunderstanding from my insecurities?”

You could feel the weight of what he was saying as something tangible. You gulped, opening your mouth those three little words you’ve always wanted to tell him, but he quickly shook his head. 

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded. “Not yet, Y/N. Not yet.”

This was it for Yeosang, it was now or never. With what he’s going to tell you, it’s either you stay or you don’t. There is no in between. He ran his hand through his hair, something you noticed he did a lot when he was frustrated, as if doing so would lessen his unraveling thoughts and feelings. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. He can’t do it, where did he even want to start?

It was a constant push and pull between you and Yeosang - he was good at being there without suffocating, you were good at offering your support without asking for anything in return. It infuriated him, yet intoxicated him. All he wanted was to run away when all you wanted to do was lean on him. 

But not anymore, he wasn’t going to run anymore.

“For the lack of a better word, I’m fucked up, Y/N,” he chuckled bitterly, breaking your heart into small pieces. “It wasn’t always like this, you know? I have my reasons, and I was fine being alone, but you.”

He held your hands and warmth spread all throughout your fingertips. It sent sparks down your spine. “The first time I looked at you, you didn’t even notice it. You were the only one who didn’t pay attention to me or said anything remotely stupid about this.”

He was referring to the mask. You stared at him in sadness, was the bar really that low? It wasn’t difficult to not talk about it, it wasn’t your place, and you believed everyone does what they do for a reason regardless or how unreasonable it could be. 

His eyes started to search yours. He wanted to stop breathing. It was those eyes of yours. He swallowed a lump on his throat because you always looked at him like the only thing you saw was him. It was too much for him at times, yet it was never enough at the same time.

“There are a lot of things I want to tell you, but I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. He hated how small he sounded. “I want to tell you everything, I’m just stuck in my head lately, that’s all.”

You didn’t respond immediately, what were you supposed to say to something like that? You weren’t good with things like this, and your heart twisted with hurt as you took a good look at him, he looked hopeful yet sad. Yeosang thought you looked so understanding right now, and he wanted to scream.

“You saw it when you opened the box, didn’t you?”

You tilted your head, confused at first, but you knew exactly what he was talking about. You wanted to hear it from him. “What about it?”

“I’m so stupid,” he chuckled bitterly. “I guess I was embarrassed when you found out that you weren’t going to be my original partner for the project.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. I knew it, you thought. You did have an inkling, but you didn’t want to assume anything. “I don’t know why I did it, but I don’t regret it. Deep down, I think Professor Choi knew,” he continued.

You noticed that he was slowly pulling away, you can read it in his eyes that he’s said enough. You weren’t going to let him do that.

”Yeosang,” you uttered his name with gentle care; with such grace. “You can tell me anything, alright? No matter what it is, I’m here. You have no reason to carry your burdens by yourself anymore.”

You could tell that your words hit him like a hurricane. You stared at him, the conflict in his eyes, oh, how you want to take that all away from him. You definitely wanted to tell him how you felt about him, and you just might. 

Yeosang stepped closer to you, your face almost brushing against his chest. His hand tightened their hold on your and the contact sent jolts of shivers against your scalp. He was having an internal conflict, his resolve slowly breaking down in front of you as his eyes met with yours once again. You almost couldn’t handle the softness in his eyes, it was too much, yet it was everything.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he choked out, eyes reddening. He was pulling away.

But you weren’t going to let him. “You can,” you encouraged, voice gentle yet firm. You brought his hands to your lips and gave them a small peck. “I’m not leaving, even if you push me away. I am not leaving you.”

"No, you don't understand," he counteracted. "I don't want you to lean on me, because I'm falling, and I don't want that for you."

His hands were trembling. "And don't even count on me, because I'm drowning," he gazed at you with despair. "Please don't drown with me."

That hurt more than you thought possible for your heart to take. The emotions behind it were so rough, and for the first time, you didn't know what to do. "What do you want, then?"

"To hold you in my arms," he admitted. "Because I'd let the ocean take me if I can't."

The pounding of Yeosang’s heart slowed down, and finally, he finally felt like he could breathe again. He’d always felt like he was standing on the edge of the cliff, but this time, he could see himself finally jumping towards that liberation he’d always dreamt of chasing.

”Do you trust me?” You suddenly asked him.

It didn’t even take him a second to answer. “With all my heart.”

You suddenly lifted your fingers, eyes never leaving his. The fabric of the mask he wore on his face felt smooth and heavy against your fingertips as you slowly pulled it down and pulled it away from his face. It was the symbolization of it - you were going to set him free. 

To say you were starstruck was the least of your concerns. You’ve never seen someone so astoundingly beautiful that it took your breath away. It was like being hit by lightning - so sudden and intense that you felt like you were being blown away. You took all of his features one by one - his perfect nose, his kissable lips, that adorable birthmark that was now in full view.

It certainly brought tears to your eyes. You cupped Yeosang’s face as your tears fell. “You’re beautiful,” you sobbed, more tears filling your lips as you smiled at him. “So beautiful, Yeo. So, so beautiful.”

“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes filling up with his own tears. Finally saying them felt like something broke inside him yet healed at the same time. “I wanted to tell you in a better setting, in a more graceful way, but I don’t think I can keep it all in anymore.”

It was true. The words just slipped out before he could stop himself. It hung in the air, it felt unreal, and it was suffocating because his chest tightened with a mix of fear and anxiety as he waited for your response.

Your eyes widened and for a moment, you thought your knees were going to buckle underneath you. Before you even understood it, yourself, your hands left his face to snake behind his neck and then you were leaning towards him, your lips finally meeting with his.

It was everything and more. He was surprised at first, but then his lips started to move in sync with yours. It was months of pining with one another, feelings that were left unsaid for most of the time. And now you were here, breathing each other in as if today was going to be your last.

You felt so soft and warm against him. You were everything he ever wanted and now that he had you, there was no way he was letting you go. Not again.

”I love you too,” you pulled away slightly, your faces still inches away from each other. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, not in amusement, but in relief. For the first time, he just let himself fall. He felt a deep yearning for you, it was far more than the desire to have you for himself. It was the unadulterated love he had for you.

You bit your lips at the sound of his voice, deep and unfiltered without the mask covering it. Yeosang tentatively held your face, his head tilting, the ghost of his lips fleeting against yours. He hesitated. While he wanted nothing more than to capture your lips one more time, he wanted to ask you one last thing.

“If I kiss you again right now, that will mean you will be mine,” he whispered. 

His impatient side was taking over, but no, it was up to you. If you want him, you’ll have him.

You blushed at the implication, but you already knew what you wanted. This was why you fell for him - it wasn’t for what he looked like or what he could and could have offered you, it was his warm and considerate attitude.

Your lips brushed against his. It was meant to be sweet, a confirmation of what your answer was without even needing to spell the words out to him. 

Yeosang’s resolve broke when you parted your lips. You let out a breathy, startled cry when he plunged his tongue straight onto your mouth, and your hold on his shoulders did nothing to calm down the wild beating of your heart. He pulled you close to him as if he was scared that you were going to leave him and all you did was kiss him even deeper to prove that you wouldn’t.

He needed to hear that sweet sound again. It was supposed to be a chaste kiss,  but when he sucked on your tongue after you had teasingly bitten his bottom lip, sweetness be damned. He swallowed your quiet, whiny moans as he held you closer against him, his hand just holding your cheeks as if you were the most precious of treasures.

The both of you were startled out of the kiss when the loud beeping of the fire alarm sounded from somewhere above you.

You paled, quickly pushing Yeosang away to put the fire away from the burning pan of breakfast that you had totally both forgotten in the heat of the moment. You pouted, disheartened at the blackened eggs, or what was left of it.

Yeosang started to laugh, not believing that an egg cockblocked him. It wasn’t the sarcastic laugh you were used to nor was it that passing laugh he’d make when he was restraining himself. No, this was the tummy-tickling type. His entire face was scrunched up, his lips spread throughout his face, his eyes squinting with that unmistakable happiness, and his demeanor light and free. You loved this look on him.

“Stop making fun of me,” you pouted, laughing in between. You never realized how contagious his laughter was, and that realization led you to another thought - you are loving the new things you were learning about him.

“Just leave them,” he said, taking the pan from you to put it down the sink and pulling you plush against his toned chest. 

“Yeosang,” you whined, blushing profusely at his affectionate gestures. It was a total change from who he was just hours prior to this. “Stop, I’m embarrassed…”

When he planted a quick peck on your lips, he couldn’t help but laugh again at your even more reddened face. You were so cute in his eyes, and had he known that he would feel this happy just by being with you like this, he would’ve gotten his head out of his ass a while back.

”I’ll take you out for lunch, princess,” he bargained, holding on to your hand. It wasn’t the first time he said the pet name, but it felt entirely different this time on your ears. “There’s this place I have to take you after.”

You didn’t miss the melancholy in his eyes when he said it, but you tried your best to cheer him up. “Oh? Is this a date, Kang Yeosang?”

”What if it is?” Yeosang scoffed playfully, hugging you from the waist tighter. “Can’t I take my girl out?”

“Who said I was your girl?”

You slightly felt bad at his shocked, widened eyes. You laughed out loud, leaning towards him once more to give him a sweet peck on his cheeks. “Relax, hot stuff,” you smirked when pink tinted his cheeks. “Thank you for loving me.”

A genuine smile crossed his lips, the adoration in his eyes tripling from the words you just uttered. He leaned his forehead against yours, content and happy. “No, thank you for loving me.”

Lunch was better than you could have ever imagined. Yeosang took you to this place that was an hour away from his apartment. Unsurprisingly, it was a high-end place, somewhere you would never have imagined you’d ever dine in.

“Yeo, I feel underdressed,” you frowned in concern, tugging at your dress that you both shopped for on a whim to suit the ambience of the fine dining spot.

”You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “The most beautiful princess.”

When you finally sat down, he kept looking around, fiddling with his suit uncomfortably. You took his hand in yours in reassurance, it was the first time he went out without his mask and you could tell that he wasn’t used to it.

If only he knew. You ate lunch slowly, not because you were trying to be posh, but because you kept stealing glances at your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. The thought almost made you choke on your food so many times.

He really was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, heck, he was even prettier than you ever will be. His features were so refined, like God took his time with him. And now, he was yours.

However, the old Yeosang you knew was still there. He glared nastily at you when you tried to split the bill when you were done eating. You sheepishly smiled at him, putting your card back in your wallet to let him pay for everything. You would make it up to him by kissing him in front of everybody in the restaurant when you were leaving.

Public display of affection wasn’t your thing, but it was so worth it to see his flustered smirk.

”Do you know why I brought you here?” Yeosang questioned, buckling your seatbelt for you like a true gentleman, curiously. 

You frowned, looking around from inside the car. You’ve never been here before and to be fair, when you told him to surprise you, he did deliver. “You’re not going to kill me and dump my body out here, aren’t you?” You teased him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I should,” he murmured. He laid his arm at your headrest, looking behind as he reversed the car. You gulped, he looked hot. “Seriously, Y/N? God, you’re so fucking weird.”

You chortled, the snorting sound coming from you was so embarrassing but you didn’t care. “True, but you love me,” you smirked triumphantly. 

He sniffled, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “I know,” he fake cried. “Is it too late for me to find the receipt so I can still return you to the store?”

You gasped, your mouth dropping in mock offense. “Yeosang!”

He wasn’t going to change from that apathetic friend that you had first before this, except that you had the benefit of having his love now. 

The drive was smooth-sailing. You felt like you were in cloud nine the entire time, giggling when he would smirk at you knowingly, his hand on yours the entire time while the other was on the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but notice how smooth his hands were.

Soon enough, you were driving in an area where the houses had great views and were situated in prime locations. You didn’t notice it at first, but the more you drove, the bigger the houses got. You weren’t naive, you had an idea just how wealthy Yeosang’s family was, but you were about to find out just how wealthy they actually were.

”Let’s go,” he murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt after parking directly in front of this gated house - mansion, rather. It was intimidating, the driveway, alone, was long and winding, surrounded by pretty lights and vast greenery. 

He opened your door for you, holding your hand and gently ushering you out. You gulped, if you felt underdressed earlier when you went to a fine dining restaurant, you definitely felt out of place and you haven’t even gone inside yet.

“You could’ve told me we were going here,” you frowned, your mind already getting poisoned by your own insecurities. You gestured to yourself. “I would’ve dressed better.”

Outside the gates was a small hut-looking station, presumably where the security guards were whose jobs were to filter out who entered the property and kick out whoever isn't welcome. Yeosang knocked twice on the window with his knuckles. You were fascinated when the sliding window opened quickly, seemingly like whoever was there wasn’t expecting to be disturbed when they opened their mouth to speak.

But when they saw who was knocking, they immediately shut up. “Young Master,” the guard said in surprise rather than contempt. 

Your boyfriend smiled. “Hello, Juyeon,” he waved slightly. He gestured to me. “I’m with my girl. Open the gates, do not announce my arrival. Wooyo?”

You didn’t pay attention to their conversation, your insecurities getting the best of you. You generally weren’t someone to get intimidated by opulence and the material luxury that this world could offer, but now that it was right in front of you staring you in the face, you didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t realize that the gates had opened and Yeosang was holding your hand again and leading you inside. You smiled politely at the guard, bowing slightly to each other before you turned your attention back to Yeosang.

“You’re beautiful, I told you,” he shook his head, walking forward and leading you in. “If anything, you look perfect.”

He chuckled at your confused face. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, someone important to me,” he explained, his voice taking on a sadder tone even though he tried to hide it from you. “This is my family home. I want everyone to see you for you and they will accept that because I’d hate for you to change just to fit in.”

You didn’t know squat about construction, but even to the inexperienced eye, it was easy to tell that the way the entire property was built was made up of high-quality and premium materials. You were still on the lawn and it was already boasting a large amount of space. 

“It’s called common courtesy,” you reasoned out, trying hard not to gawk at your surroundings. “I don’t want to look like I didn’t make an effort or anything.”

You faced the front door with him, pausing when he hesitated to push it open. “You’re literally fine, though I understand where you’re coming from,” he reassured me. “My parents are very kind people, trust me.”

You blanched. “Your parents?”

Now you felt totally out of place, you were about to meet his parents! “Yeo, a-are you sure about this? We’ve only been together for a day, are you sure—-”

“Princess,” he stopped you, worry in his eyes at your panicked state. It significantly calmed you down, but it didn’t stop the wild beating of your heart. “You were my friend first,” he smiled tightly at you. “I think my parents would be pleased to meet the person that helped me and was there for me whenever I needed comfort.”

Your chest warmed, his words hitting you directly in your heart. To say you were touched would be an understatement. “I did that for you?”

“In more ways than one, yeah,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair affectionately before fixing it, tucking the stray ones behind your ears gently and tenderly. “Ready?”

If the driveway and the lawn weren’t enough to impress you and make your jaw hit the floor, the interior of the house definitely did. Everything from the living room down the smallest corners of the walls screamed luxury and money, the attention to detail was impressive, especially since you grew up in a humble home.

”Holy shit, Yeosang,” you blurted out as he gave you a tour. “I knew you had money, but this is crazy.”

“Old money,” he shrugged. “Didn’t Jongho tell you we were childhood friends? My little princess can think about that for a second, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but he was right. It also didn’t stop the blush from rising up your cheeks. You would just never get used to his affectionate nature being out in the open now. 

Besides the few house workers that were delighted at the sight of Yeosang, you didn’t encounter anybody significant yet. You weren’t sure if that was a relief or not, but so far you were enjoying the tour. He showed the pool, the built-in sauna with the promise of using it with you next time, and the outdoor kitchen.

There was also a home theater, but he didn’t stay long. You figured it had something to do with how you two had a falling out a week prior. Instead, he took you to his favourite place - the wine cellar. Apparently, his father loved collecting wine from all over the world. You gulped at the mere thought of the price tag attached to them.

He smirked when he brought you to the main kitchen. Your eyes shone at the granite countertops, the marbled floors, and the custom cabinetry that held every spice and herb known to mankind. There, a kind looking woman approached you with a wide smile. Yeosang introduced her as the head chef.

”I see you got yourself a little girlfriend, Sangie,” she teased mischievously. 

Yeosang cleared his throat, rolling his eyes affectionately as he gave the head a tight hug. “It’s been a while,” he whispered with an emotion you haven’t recognized before. “Uhm, this is Y/N,“ he gestures to you after he’s pulled away. 

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled as the head chef gave you a tight hug of your own. It certainly touched you, it was such a warm gesture and you’ve never met them before, too.

”Hopefully, Yeosang has been treating you well,” she said with a knowing smile. “My, you are very pretty, dear.”

“Who’s very pretty?”

You turned to a new voice from the entrance of the grand kitchen. Judging from what you were seeing, you knew exactly who this woman was. She looked just like Yeosang, except she was much, much older. She had this elegance and grace that one couldn’t get from anywhere else except for age and the wisdom that came along with it.

You bowed in a ninety-degree angle as politely and as respectfully as you possibly can. “G-Good afternoon, Mrs. Kang, I am so sorry to intrude into your house like this!” 

You heard her amused laughter, and when you rose back up, you held back in your own laughter when you saw her hold the shell of her son’s ear and pulled it towards her cheekily. 

“You unfilial son of mine,” she started off, ignoring Yeosang’s groans of pain as she tightened her hold. “You haven’t set foot in here for a while and you dare just show up unannounced? Oh, your father will have a field day with you!”

“But it’s okay,” she giggled, your eyes widening when she held you by the arm. “Finally, you bring a beautiful girl home, oh, I thought my son was going to die a virgin forever!”

“Mum! What the hell?”

Yeosang’s mom was a chatterbox, and she was the sweetest. It made you breathe out a sigh of relief because you were slightly terrified that she’d reject your humble background compared to theirs and her son’s lifestyle growing up.

The only way Yeosang was able to drag you away was when you made a promise to her that you’d come back for tea time.

“Princess, I hope this doesn’t deter you from coming back,” he remarked sarcastically, leading you outside with his hand on your lower back. “I swear everybody here is sane.”

As if on cue, the house staff that would either pass the two of you or you would pass bowed and giggled to themselves in amusement and surprise when they saw Yeosang. You smiled awkwardly at everybody, breathing a sigh of relief when you reached the back part of the property once more, except Yeosang led you to an entirely different place.

“I think everybody is sweet and it’s quite endearing to see them like you,” you chuckled. “I get it though. It’s like they haven’t seen you in months.”

“That’s because they actually haven’t seen me in months,” he deadpanned.

You chuckled a bit, thinking that he was joking just to uplift the mood, but when you saw his facial expression remaining unchanged, your smile dropped. “W-Wait, you’re serious?”

“We’ve been technically together for a while now without the label, have you ever seen my family visit or heard a phone call?” Yeosang scoffed, pulling on your hand to stop you from walking. “We’re here.”

Your mouth parted in awe. Flowers littered your vision, they were a dancing rainbow of pretty blossoms. You’ve always dreamt of getting a house one day with a huge garden like this, you could almost detect the insatiable fragrance this garden offered, and the way the beautiful petals curled from the summer heat made you want to touch them. You could stay here and make this your sanctuary.

”But why? Was there any reason you cut contact with them? They love you, Yeo, I could see that,” you said softly, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

He lifted a finger to point at something. “That’s why,” he said. His eyes were swimming with a mixture of anxiety and longing, but when he blinked, it was gone. He offered you his hand once more. “Come along, princess. There’s someone I would like you to meet.”

You didn’t notice it at first, but there was a person on the far end of the garden. The closer you got, the more you realized that it was a man. He was obscured by all the pretty flowers, but he was there clear as day.

Your heart dropped to your feet, for the man was in a wheelchair, his entire right leg in a cast along with his right arm. Was this the reason why Yeosang chose to leave his family? You were nervous to know the answer.

He didn’t notice you at first, too busy basking underneath the sun that was beaming down on him. He had a soft, serene smile painted on his face that signified that he was truly at peace at the moment. Your brows shot up when you got closer, he was handsome. 

Finally, he looked up, and then his eyes widened. Between Yeosang’s trembling hands and the man’s widened, unsure eyes, you didn’t know what to do, exactly. The three of you were frozen in time.

“Yeosang,” he whispered, eyes hooded with emotions you couldn’t stand looking at, not because you had something against this man, but because you might end up crying if you stare too long. He tried to get up hurriedly, struggling against his restrictions, and it was when Yeosang finally broke out of his trance and rushed forward.

“Damn it, Wooyoung, what the hell is wrong with you?” Yeosang hissed, his harsh voice a contrast to the gentle way he helped the latter sit back properly on his wheelchair. “Have you lost your mind?”

You purse your lips. Ah, you thought, so this was Wooyoung. The genes in this family continue to astound you. You didn’t recognize him at first - in the photo you saw, Wooyoung had shorter hair, and right now, his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders. And he has a thorny rose tattoo that he didn’t have in the photo.

Wooyoung stared at Yeosang when he lifted his pants a little before squatting down to his level, using his hands to lean on the wheelchair for support. The fox-looking man stared at his brother with no particular expression on his face except for his teary eyes. You felt like you were intruding.

Yeosang smirked lightly, without any malice or ill-intent. “How are you, Woo?”

You weren’t expecting much, in fact, you weren’t expecting anything at all, but you sure as hell weren’t expecting your boyfriend’s face to be, for the lack of a better word, bitch-slapped so hard, it sent his head reeling to the side. The loud, cracking sound of skin hitting skin surprised you, to say the least.

“That’s for disappearing on me for months,” Wooyoung hissed, his hand still in the air.

Yeosang’s mouth was parted in shock. He slowly turned his head back to Wooyoung, his eyes widened, but he didn’t say a word. His cheek was slowly growing red and if it wasn’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at the handprint forming on the area.

After a while, Wooyoung burst out crying, leaning forward to grab Yeosang by his shirt so he could wrap his arms tightly around him. Yeosang relaxes into the hug, patting Wooyoung’s shaking body whilst rubbing onto his back soothingly like a father comforting a son. The only sound in the garden right now was Wooyoung’s silent wails and sniffles.

“How did you even know I was here?” Wooyoung wondered, sniffling, as he pulled away and took a good look at Yeosang by holding onto his face. “You look…happier.”

You blushed when he side-eyes you mischievously, winking at you subtly before turning his attention back at Yeosang. “You’re a jerk, you know that?” Wooyoung further chided, scoffing loudly at Yeosang, who rolled his eyes. “Dad is pretty pissed at you and mum was running around like a chicken without a head. You left me high and dry, bastard.”

“And you?” Yeosang raised a brow, rubbing his cheek, offended.  “What about you?”

“You tell me,”  Wooyoung pushed Yeosang’s shoulder. You wanted to giggle at how different the two brothers were. “You were having so much fun at dad’s penthouse.”

Yeosang was genuinely surprised. “How—”

“Anyway,” he grinned, turning his wheelchair manually to face you. He stretches his arm towards you and waves it to gesture to you to come closer to him. “Come, come,” he said. “I need to know the girl who removed my brother’s stick from his ass.”

“Bold of you to assume we’re together,” Yeosang scoffed, motioning for you to sit down on the nearby bench.

“Keep telling yourself that. Move along,” he turned his wheelchair once more, the wheels going over Yeosang’s foot like a bump on the road. He mumbled a small ‘oops,’ not really caring about the latter’s groan of pain as he clutched on his foot while glaring behind the former’s back intensely.

He grinned again, bringing his hand out for you to shake. “Jung Wooyoung, the better looking brother.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Yeosang rebutted. “She’s my girlfriend, dimwit.”

“L/N Y/N, the stick holder,” you smirked, bringing your own hand out to shake his. You tried hard not to stare at his cast and his injuries, though you were extra curious about them especially since Yeosang kept looking at them when he thought Wooyoung didn’t notice, and his eyes held pain.

Wooyoung laughed, surprising you with his high-pitched cackle. “Oh my God, I like her, I like her!” He repeatedly said, slapping his own thigh as he laughed. He batted his eyelashes at you. “So, what did you do to bring my brother out of his shell?”

It was when the atmosphere turned tense. Yeosang’s shoulders stiffened, his back muscles turning rigid. “I don’t think we should talk about that right now,” he murmured, sitting beside you and draping an arm across your shoulders.  “There’s so much time, Woo–”

“What, so much time for you to leave again? I won’t see you for months, hell, I might not see you again, knowing you,” Wooyoung scoffed, sighing heavily. He looked up at the sky again for minutes before setting his eyes towards Yeosang once more. “You need to let go, Sangie,” he paused, tilting his chin at me. “Does she know?”

Your curiosity was definitely piqued this time. Yeosang shook his head. “That’s why I’m here,” he sighed. He looked at you, giving you a tight smile. “I figured if you’re going to be with me, you have to know soon, anyway.”

“Is this related to why you covered your face the entire time during this semester?” You wondered absentmindedly, not expecting that it would set off another set of questions.

“Wait, what the hell does that mean?” Wooyoung blurted out in surprise. “Cover your face, how? Yeosang?”

Both of you proceeded to tell in your own experiences on how Yeosang would wear a mask to cover the bottom half of his face on campus and even around you until recently. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped lower and lower down to the floor the more you recounted your experiences, especially how Yeosang was being treated by the other students.

Wooyoung had this forlorn look on his face that got sadder and sadder the more you talked to the point that you regretted talking in the first place. He rubbed his face with his hands frustratedly. “Damn it, Sangie, I told you, I’m fine.”

Yeosang raised a brow, giving his injuries a pointed look, making Wooyoung roll his eyes. “It will heal,” he tried to console, but it wasn’t working. He turned to you, eyes laced with pain, before he sighed and spoke. “There was a car accident a couple of months ago. I was in the passenger’s seat, and Yeosang was driving.”

Hearing that felt like a dream, the sudden shock of it not fully sinking into you until Yeosang tightened his hold on your shoulder. “I like you, and you seem like a nice girl,” Wooyoung continued. “But I have to ask you this - what do you think about Yeosang?”

It definitely sparked something in you, it was an easy answer. “Everything,” you grabbed Yeosang’s hands in yours. “He’s very sweet, a bit of a jackass sometimes, but it’s a part of his personality I’m willing to work around because I’m in love with him. Anybody who doesn’t like him is lost on them, and I feel bad for them.”

Wooyoung seemed satisfied with this answer. His hand patted your free hand before he looked down. “There was this girl,” he began, voice hardening. “Long story short, she was obsessed with him. She followed him everywhere, she even broke into our house one night, I mean, this girl was crazy.”

You gasped, turning your head abruptly at Yeosang, who was avoiding eye contact. You had an idea where this was going, you didn’t want to hear the repeated heartbreak for both of them, but you had to because it will help Yeosang move on. You tightened your hold on his hand.

It made sense. It all made sense. The attitude, the melancholy, and the mask. It just made sense. His face was his downfall.

“One day, we were coming home from the arcade,” Wooyoung continued. “Next thing we know, she was trailing us from behind and trying to line herself to the car,” he shook his head bitterly. “She was drunk. One thing led to another, my side of the car hit a pole head on.”

You gasped loudly, covering your mouth with your hands. Anger coursed through your veins, its hot trail going up your brain at the pain that must’ve brought upon everybody. “As you can see, I’m still recovering. Couple of broken bones,” he pointed to his casts. “But I’m fine. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” Yeosang gritted his teeth. “I should have been careful, I should’ve just driven faster, I should’ve,” he paused, sniffling, rubbing his eyes to stop the tears from falling. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt, Wooyoung. You lost your baseball scholarship because of me.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Wooyoung shook his head. “It’s her fault, Yeosang. It was never yours, it’s high time you stopped blaming yourself.”

Yeosang buried his head on the crook of your shoulder and neck, his other arm wrapping completely around your shoulders until he was fully hugging you for his own comfort. You and Wooyoung looked at each other and you couldn’t help but admire the man. The accident should have deterred him, but no, he still looked like a bright and cheerful person. Jung Wooyoung was stronger than anyone you know.

Wooyoung lifted his hand, trembling, wanting to reach out to his brother, but he put them back down. “You already gave up your dreams of being an idol because of this, because of that bitch,” he whispered bitterly. You were taken aback at the animosity, but you couldn’t blame him. “How much more of yourself are you going to take?”

Wetness hit your neck, but Yeosang made no sound. You respected it even though you wanted him to just let it out completely. You smoothed his hair out, whispering sweet nothings in his ear and letting him know that you were here for him. You wanted to cry with him, he has been through so much and you never knew.

“A little birdie did tell me to forgive myself,” he chuckled, sniffling a bit before chuckling lightheartedly. 

You blushed again when Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. Yeosang pulls apart from you to lean down to hug his brother. It was then that you all knew that that weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, that the ghost of his past was finally leaving him to be the person he once was slowly, but surely.

“Mum and dad had never blamed you, and neither did I,” Wooyoung closed his eyes, rubbing Yeosang’s back. “We’ll heal together, okay?”

Campus was fascinating, to say the least. You had stayed over Yeosang’s penthouse the entire weekend. You couldn’t bear to leave him after that, but right now, you kept adjusting your sweater because makeup wasn’t enough to cover the hickeys that littered your collarbone and your chest.

After much deliberation, Yeosang had decided to ditch the mask. You assured him that whether or not he wore it would not change anything about your relationship, but all he gave you was a small smile and a reassuring peck on the lips.

“I have you now, I have no reason to wear it anymore,” he said. “Plus, it was getting difficult to wear it, anyway. I don’t know why I even started.”

One thing you were excited about, however, was being in the car with him to spend more time with him since you only had one class together. Luckily, both of your classes started in the afternoon, so you had time in the morning to go on a small date.

“Nervous?” You asked him, holding his hand as he stared out at the parking lot of the campus. “We should have taken my car, it’s a little more laidback.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’ve been hiding who I am for a while and to be quite frank, there’s only a lot of smack talking I can take, and plus,” he smirked, opening the car door and swinging his legs out. “You’re with me. . I refuse to let you get dragged in this shit.”

You were proud of Yeosang, even though he was slightly nervous, you could tell that he was at least trying. Everyone started to stare, you two were definitely eye-catching. You weren’t the most well-known student, but everybody did recognize you for being a friend of not only Jongho and Yunho, but also Hongjoong. 

Yeosang, however, nobody has ever seen him before. You were slightly peeved, it wasn’t that much of a secret that Yeosang was definitely attractive, subjectively and objectively. His jawline was defined, his eyes brighter and more expressive now, and overall, he just looked free.

The closer you got to the crowded places, the more heads turned. Eyes after eyes following your every move, wondering who the handsome man with you was and whether he was a student or just someone you’re with. Yes, people did stare. It was hypocritical and you couldn’t help but get mad, now that Yeosang was more pleasing to their eyes, they chatter with excitement?

“Relax, princess,” Yeosang chuckled, pushing your head towards his so he could plant a small kiss on your forehead. You smirked at all the ‘aww’ and ‘damn’ in the background. “You’re like a little cat with its fur standing up.”

He opened the door to the library for you with a small chuckle and suddenly, his eyes shone with nostalgia. He smirked at you, this was where everything had started, and right now, he was silently making fun of you when you were still technically stalking him back then when you had a crush on him.

Hongjoong smiled brightly at you when you and Yeosang approached the table. “Hey, Y/N. What’s going on?”

You sheepishly gave him the book that you had borrowed from before and avoided eye contact with him when he raised his brows so high, it almost reached his hairline. Even Yeosang was trying not to laugh beside you.

“Y/N, this is the same book from months ago when you were trying to butter up to Kang Yeosang,” Hongjoong muttered, scoffing in disbelief and amusement. “Holy crap, I have to see what your penalty fee would be.”

You didn’t care. You were embarrassed to the high heavens, especially when Yeosang started to put his knuckles in his mouth to stop himself from bursting out laughing. “Yeah? I wonder how that went,” he asked, adding salt to your wounds.

“Oh, you should’ve seen her,” Hongjoong grinned. “She had such a massive crush on the guy, it was hilarious,” he shook his head before clearing his throat. “Sorry about that. Would you like to return a book or borrow one, yourself?”

“I’ll borrow the same book, if you don’t mind,” Yeosang pointed at the Machiavellian book absentmindedly. “I promise to return it on time.”

You hissed at him, actually sounding like a cat, in annoyance. Hongjoong laughed and nodded. “Of course,” he gave Yeosang the logbook and a pen like he did to you before when you borrowed the book, yourself. “I just need you to write your name here.”

“Oh, no need,” Yeosang brushed off. “My name should be in the book. Kang Yeosang.”

“Ah, I see—what?” Hongjoong said before doing a comical double-take with his eyes bulged out from its sockets. It was your turn to smirk and look at him in amusement. He looked at Yeosang up and down with a huge smile. “Holy shit, man, you look amazing! I love the coat on you.”

Yeosang was genuinely surprised. At first, he didn’t know how to react and it made you smile. He was still getting used to genuine compliments and you found it adorable. “Hongjoong was one of the people who didn’t judge you,” you supplied. 

“Thank you,” your boyfriend’s cheeks were tinted pink.

Class wasn’t any better either. Instead of sitting by the corner like he usually did, Yeosang sat beside you proudly. Those who had been there before you came had either looks of curiosity or awe. The two of you couldn’t help but giggle. Soon enough, the class started to fill up, and then Yunho came to sit beside you like he usually did.

“You,” he seethed, giving you a pointed look. You sheepishly looked back. “You went MIA on both Jongho and I, you owe us for making you worry the whole week!”

He notices who was beside me and does a double look before bowing a little. “Ah, hello, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” Yunho juts his hand out respectfully. “Jeong Yunho.”

Yeosang gives me an amused look before he smirks. “But you have seen me before, do you not remember?”

“W-well, no, I don’t think so,” Yunho frowned, his face contorting into confusion before his eyes widened like Hongjoong’s and his mouth dropped open. “Wait, hold on—”

You giggled into your hands, it was so amusing to see your friends’ reactions to Yeosang so far. Yunho’s rant got cut off when Professor Choi entered the room along with Professor Park behind him in tow. You will admit, your two professors were both attractive and you have confessed once or twice to Yeosang that you had a crush on Professor Choi at one point.

There was a third person who trailed behind them and it made you and Yunho snort in amusement. It was Jongho. He didn’t make a point to look at anybody except the professors so he didn’t notice you and Yunho.

“I have Professor Park Seonghwa with me to judge everybody’s performance with me,” Professor Choi gestures to the latter, his dimpled smile swooning everybody present. “I’m hoping for something wonderful today,” he then gestured to Jongho next. “We also have our winner from last semester judging you all.”

You had totally forgotten about that part. Jongho did a solo the other semester. It was the reason why only you and Yunho had been in this class since Jongho was exempted.

Yunho elbowed you amidst all the chatters, droning the Professors’ explanation. “Fucking hell, Y/N, that’s Yeosang?” Yunho whistled in awe. You nodded and he snorted. “I knew it, I damn well knew he’d be attractive, but holy hell, are you sure that’s him?”

“I’m pretty sure I know who my boyfriend is,” you giggled.

You almost felt bad for Yunho, who seems to be going through an internal mental crisis. “Boyfriend? Since when?” 

Coincidentally and unluckily for him, Yunho was cut off when his name and Mingi’s were called. He seemed to forget what he was inquiring about and stood up to go. Mingi passed the both of you and smirked before greeting you.

“Wish us luck,” he chuckled. He waved slightly. “What’s up, Yeosang?”

And then he went with Yunho towards the front. Your boyfriend frowned, taken aback by Mingi’s sudden greeting. “How the heck does he know?” Yeosang murmured in surprise. He had always assumed that the campus jock was a massive asshole.

“Hell, if I knew,” you shrugged. “We barely practiced for this thing, ugh. I’m saying goodbye to those benefits now.”

After the camera had been set up by Professor Park, Yunho and Mingi began to introduce themselves towards it. You had totally forgotten that this will be a recorded performance for submission and future referrence. You clutched Yeosang’s hand nervously and he squeezed back.

You weren’t surprised at Yunho’s skills. He occasionally went to a dance studio and had even dragged you and Jongho with him at one point. However, you were definitely taken aback at Mingi’s deep and raspy voice when he started rapping. What’s more is that the guy could dance too. You groaned, you and Yeosang were definitely done for.

When Yunho went back, he looked genuinely happy, and you couldn’t help but beam at him and be happy for him, too. Even Yeosang gave him a friendly pat in the back as a congratulatory gesture.

By then, it was pretty obvious that Yunho and Mingi would win and be exempted for the next semester. Not that the others weren’t good, in fact, there were a couple of close calls. Dancing and acting seemed to be the norm and since nobody except Mingi had rapped, theirs was remarkable.

“L/N Y/N? Kang Yeosang?”

When your names were called, you suddenly felt like your legs had become like lead. Jongho looked up so fast, you were surprised his neck didn’t crack from the whiplash of looking up at your direction as if he knew you were there the entire time. His hold on the pen loosened as he stared at Yeosang in bewilderment as he started to walk down with you.

“What the fuck?” Jongho mouthed at you, perplexed at what he was seeing. You shrugged and gave him a small wink.

At first, it didn’t hit everyone - especially since a handsome man was walking towards the front of the class with you and they were expecting a masked freak. You had to control your oncoming anger, it was easy to get it misplaced since you were in a position where you could give everyone a piece of your mind, but you didn’t want to embarrass Yeosang further.

“Uhm,” Professor Park cleared his throat to mask his own surprise. “You are Yeosang, correct?”

Your boyfriend nodded, showing his campus identification card. “I think so, yeah,” he joked lightheartedly. 

All hell broke loose after a small pause. Gasps of surprise, whispers and murmurs of your fellow students all talking about Yeosang, the boy who wore a mask and who everybody called weird or eccentric, but that was long gone by now. There was a small tinge of pink on his cheeks at all the attention but when he looked at you, he knew that everything was alright.

“What will you present to us?” Professor Choi tentatively asked as he started to tinker at the recording camera. He set his wise eyes on Yeosang before lowering his voice, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “We would have given you a fair grading even if you chose to wear your self-expression.”

Yeosang gave the professor a genuine smile, going forward to grab two microphones from a still puzzled Jongho. “Thank you,” he uttered. He gave you one mic before turning again. “Uhm, we're performing a song.”

Professor Choi lifts a surprised brow while Professor Park nods, glee evident on his face. “Ah, we haven’t had anybody sing for us yet,” the former supplied. 

“Are you going to be okay? I’m worried for you,” you whispered to him truthfully amidst all the murmurs that were going around the room. 

“I’m still used to this,” he reassured. “Former idol, remember?”

The moment the music started, Yeosang lost his soul into the rhythm. You guys had decided long ago that he’d sing all the main parts while you remained as harmonies. You were proud of  him and you can see that it felt good for him, his voice elevated your soul like it was your catharsis.

You were still annoyed at all the swoons he was receiving, but you decided to ignore it for now and tamped down your jealousy, not when Yeosang was releasing the emotions he’s held within himself for a while now.

But what surprised you was not only was everyone, including Yunho and Mingi, swaying to the rhythm of Yeosang voice, but someone else’s voice had joined to harmonize with you. You looked at Jongho in surprise and it was his turn to wink at you. Yeosang patted Jongho’s shoulder as the three of you filled the room with your voices.

You weren’t sure if that was okay, but everyone went along with it. Soon enough, everybody was singing along with the two of you. Yeosang’s voice faltered and your quick thinking decided to take over for a few seconds so he could contain himself. He held your hand for comfort, this meant a lot to him, but Jongho comically pulled your hands apart, his eyes widening in a ‘no’ stance.

And soon enough, it was over. Just like when Professor Park picked who your partners would be, your performance was also the last for the day. Cheers along with loud claps surrounded the entire room and Professor Choi had to calm everybody down to not disrupt the neighbouring classes, but even he was pleased with the outcome.

“I think it’s safe to say who gets the prize, isn’t it?” Professor Park cleared his throat to hide the smirk that was threatening to spread all over his face. 

It was all surreal. Another good thing happened next and Professor Park also announced that Yunho and Mingi were to be exempted as well since their performance was unique on its own. The four of you shared a wide grin with one another, and before you knew it, your classes for the whole day were also exempted, courtesy of Jongho’s smooth-talking so the four of you could hang out.

“Fuck, man, I didn’t know you could sing like that!” Mingi exclaimed as the five of you started to walk to the parking lot. Since classes were still ongoing, you were free to do and say anything you wanted. “You should be an idol, or something.”

Yeosang put his arm across your shoulder and pulled you closer.  “I should’ve, shouldn’t I?” He grinned. Then, he cleared his throat. “You guys, uh, don’t care to be associated with me, or something?”

“What do you mean?” Mingi frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Do you not like us?”

“N-No! I mean, it’s not that,” Yeosang blanched, making you snort and laugh after. Before he could explain himself, Mingi, ever the people person, slaps Yeosang’s back playfully.

But Yeosang wasn’t the one surprised, it was Mingi. “Woah.” he blurted out. “Your back muscles, you work out too?! Say, mind if I call another friend of mine? I think he’d like to hang out, too.”

You blushed at the imagery that suddenly popped in your head. Yunho gags jokingly while waving his hands in front of him. “Oh, God, I did not want to know about that in your eyes, Y/N,” he barfs. “Also, you have a number one fan now, Yeosang—”

“Sure,” you glared at Yunho before turning to Mingi. “Depends on who's the friend though—”

“Ya! Song Mingi, what the hell did you want?!”

You all turned to the loud source of the voice and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Hongjoong who was marching towards your group with a menacing look, until his eyes went to Yeosang again and he snorted in amusement.

“I will never get over what your face looks like. Are you sure you’re not a model?” Hongjoong waved. “Anyway, Mingi texted me to come here.”

Everyone looked at the gentle giant, who was rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have texted him already to come here…”

Yeosang was surprised again when Hongjoong slapped his back like an old friend does when they see them. “So where to? I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been so burnt out by this university thing,” he rolled his eyes. He sees Yeosang’s hold on you and raises a brow. “Woah, are we interrupting something?”

“Maybe,” you replied cryptically.

“Are you guys together or something?” Jongho blurted out, twirling his car keys on his finger. Leave it to Jongho to be blunt as always.

Yeosang possessively wraps an arm all over your waist from behind and plants his chin on your shoulder. You laughed sheepishly at everybody’s bulged out eyes while Yunho started cackling loudly. “It kinda just happened,” you chuckled.

Yeosang looks at Jongho, who had his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You gonna do something about it, dad?” He joked, making everyone laugh.

Jongho rolled his eyes dramatically, pinching his nose bridge. “Not only do we have to deal with all the crazy energy this group will have in the future,” he stared pointedly at an excited Mingi, who was shaking Yunho’s collar. “But we also have to deal with you two eye-fucking each other constantly. Spare me the drama, please.”

Suddenly, Jongho and Yeosang stared at each other, a million emotions written in their eyes. You nudge your boyfriend closer to Jongho, giving him a reassuring nod. He shyly rubs the back of his neck before turning to everybody.

“Uhm, I’d love to have company in my place,” he began, causing Jongho to raise a brow. “I’ll send everybody the address, it’s only a fifteen minute drive from here.”

You were proud of Yeosang since he was trying to branch out of his comfort space and trying to let people in now so he could move forward and not get stuck in the past where he was all alone. 

“You’re you again,” Jongho mumbled softly, sighing. “Can’t say I miss when you were stuck up and walked around like everybody was going to jump on you. You were a major dickhead, Sangie.”

Before Yeosang could reply, he turned to the rest of the group, who were already planning what to do and who should bring the snacks and stuff. “Uh, go ahead and drive on without us,” he gestured to himself and Jongho.

He turned to you with a small, serene smile. You could have cried, he didn’t even need to say anything, he looked so much happier from when you first met him when he threatened you at the library. “You go ahead without me, princess—”

“Princess,” Hongjoong blabbered out, his delight evident in his tone while the other started to jokingly and openly mock you both for being too sweet.

“I have a score to settle with this brute—” he tried to continue.

“I’m literally right here,” Jongho counteracted, holding his hand to his chest as if he was offended.

You hopped and kissed Yeosang in front of everybody, which resulted in a hilarious ruckus before pulling away and dragging Yunho away so you could get in the car with him. You looked back at your boyfriend, subtly giving him a thumbs, mouthing ‘I’m proud at you’ before completely turning around.

Both Yeosang and Jongho watched as everyone’s car started to peel out of the parking lot one by one underneath the red setting sun of the sky. It painted such a beautiful picture and it set the mood for what was about to come.

Yeosang had a small sense of dread woven into his nervousness. To be fair, it would have been odd if he wasn’t nervous, this was the first time he was talking to Jongho after he had pretty much ghosted him for months, disappearing on him like he did with Wooyoung.

“Listen,” he started, his anxiety through the roof. “I know you’re mad and you have the right to be, but I want you to know that I’m very sorry.”

It was now or never, his relationship with Jongho was on the line. He loved you, but he can’t just turn his back completely to the other person he grew up with. Jongho sighed, the sound of it harsh and unwelcoming.

“I am, I still am,” the latter huffed out. Yeosang hated it, but he understood why. “At least you know how to grasp the situation and you’re not in denial anymore. You piss me off so damn much, you know?”

“I understand,” he breathed out, kicking a nearby pebble off of the ground onto nowhere in particular. This was it, he thought, he had lost Jongho forever.

However, he wasn’t expecting a nudge on the shoulder and a friendly ruffle of his hair. He groaned, as self-deprecating as he was with his appearance, he hated his hair being messed  up, and Jongho knew that.

“You’re a goddamn fool,” Jongho shook his head after. He choked out a laugh from his chest. “I’m mad at you for doing this to yourself. I’m mad at you for blaming yourself even though it wasn’t your fault. I’m mad at you for letting those assholes bully you and bring you down.”

“But mostly of all,” Jongho spoke in finality. “I’m mad at you for not letting me help and be there for you when you needed it the most.” 

And with that, Jongho finally smiled, his teeth and gums all baring out like the sunshine for him to see. Finally, the last burden off of his shoulders and chest was finally being lifted away. They both laughed out loud as they both got into their cars, which were coincidentally parked next to each other.

“So, you and Y/, huh?” Jongho smirked, the playfulness that Yeosang knew him to have back on his face. How he missed it so. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, hopping into the driver’s seat and rolling the window down so he could still talk to Jongho. “She’s changed me, you know? I mean, I could tell you all the details—”

“Spare me,” Jongho groaned, honking to stop him from talking. “I get it, but I don’t wanna know all the juicy details of your relationship. Just don’t hurt her, or you’ll get a taste of this.”

He lifted his fists up in the air, waving them around comically and causing Yeosang to laugh out loud so much, his tummy and his sides started to ache and cramp up. This was it, this was all he needed. How had he been such a fool to let all of this go? Suddenly, your face popped up in his mind, and he smiled. He vowed to make you happy, for you had given him so much without knowing and asking for anything in return.

“Where to?” Jongho asked after he turned his car on, the sound of the engine being the background noise of it all. It was so fitting.

“You know my dad’s penthouse? The one near yours?”

Jongho’s eyes bulged out. “That’s where you’ve been staying? Fuck, I should’ve known,” he shook his head. Suddenly, he turned to Yeosang with an impish smirk, the delinquency in his face palpable and hard to miss. “Like the old times?”

Yeosang didn’t get it at first, until Jongho revved his engine, smoke coming out of the exhaust at a faster rate, and he laughed, revving his own engine competitively with a grin. When they were younger, they would race each other anywhere - the streets, a dirt road, anywhere. It wasn’t legal, by all means, because they really were young at one point.

“Loser buys dinner for the entire crew?” Jongho chided, his laughter filling the air.

It was contagious and Yeosang went ahead and pressed on the gas. “Deal.”

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[dixonsbrat]

𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 — send in any character from my masterlist + a prompt from one of the lists ( fluff , angst , smut ) for a blurb.

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜ with babygirl daryl dixon <33

── .✦  𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 ┆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you see daryl smile for the first time in a while.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; daryl dixon x reader , alexandria era, just lots of fluff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.5k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; this was only supposed to be a lil blurb but i got carried away writing for my scrumdidlyumpcious mans *sighs dreamily*

you were sitting alone on the front porch as the rest of alexandria slept soundlessly around you. the air was warm against your skin with only the slightest breeze. it was the perfect night to sit under the stars and just let yourself breathe for once.

though, the small moment of peace is interrupted when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. they were soft against the wood, yet making it creak beneath them, and you don’t need to turn to know who it was.

daryl slowly sat down beside you, sinking onto the step you were on, and leaning his head against the pillar behind him. he looked tired, more tired than usual. dark circles encapsulated his otherwise icy blue eyes, and there was a slumpiness to his shoulders.

"can't sleep?" you tilt your head to the side slightly, turning so that you too were leaning against a pillar now and facing him onward.

“nah,” he murmured, his drawl thick and heavy with exhaustion. it was clear that something was weighing down on him. perhaps the same thing that had even been disrupting his sleep.

you give it a moment to see if he would tell you what was wrong on his own accord, but this was daryl, and he wasn't one to talk about his feelings or express his troubles without prompting. he rarely spoke much anymore as it was, not compared to how he used to anyway.

watching as his gaze pans off to your surroundings, taking in the other houses along the street and the trees that were rustling in the wind, you can’t help but wonder what’s got him so stuck in his head. there was a clear distance in his eyes that you had only ever seen a few times before, but there was no telling what could be the cause of it.

eventually, you gently nudge his leg with your foot to get his attention, "what’s going on in that big ole head'o yours? and don't tell me it’s 'nothing'."

daryl’s eyes flickered towards you as you nudged his leg, as if being pulled back to reality for a brief moment. he looked away again, the darkness outside seeming to be easier to focus on than actually having to talk. he knew it was only because you cared and he, of course, didn’t want to worry you. you already worried about him enough as it was.

“it’s just…” he begins after a few moments, but stops, shaking his head. it was clear by the tension in his jaw that he was really bothered by whatever it was.

"hey, you can talk to me." you say, offering him solace for his thoughts.

he glances over at you, seeing the genuine concern in your eyes. he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid telling you, not when he knew how stubborn you could be and that you probably wouldn’t leave him alone until he gave you some sort of an explanation. he takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts into words before responding.

“it’s just… it’s been a lot,” he finally mutters, his voice low and gruff in the air.

you sit forward now, no longer leaning on the pillar behind you as you rest your hands in your lap, "what has?"

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated, though not at you. never at you. his shoulders slump a bit more and it makes him look even more exhausted. “everything,” he answers after a short pause, the word simple enough, but you knew well enough that he wasn’t talking about just his tired state. he shakes his head, looking back out towards the small settlement, not really focusing on anything in particular. “jus’ feelin’ a bit… weighed down lately. i guess.”

you nod along softly as he speaks, taking in his words and letting him know that you were listening, "is there anything i can do to help?"

he can’t help but feel a swell of warmth in his chest as you offer your assistance. you always cared so much, cared about him. it made his heart feel full for the first time in a while. but he was stubborn, and even now it was difficult for him to admit that he needed support sometimes. the feeling of being a burden loomed over him constantly as that’s what he was accused of being growing up.

he shook his head slightly, still not looking at you, though a small part of him wanted to. “you do enough,” he mumbled.

“daryl, i’m serious. what can i do to help?” you move forward on the step a little, your knees hitting his now. “do you want me to take up some of your runs? will that help make you feel better?”

his brow furrows as you press the question again, his jaw tensing. he felt stuck between letting you help and being his stubborn self that tried to push everything away. though hearing you offer to take up some of his runs, a part of him considered accepting, which surprised even himself.

he was silent for a moment before speaking again in a hushed, gruff voice, the words almost being strained from his mouth, “i don’t… i don’t wanna ask things of you.”

“don’t be silly. i care about you, and i don’t want to see you run yourself into the ground.” you place a hand on his knee and give it a little squeeze. you hated how stubborn he could be, how he always pushed away the help that he clearly so desperately needed. “you do that and then who else am i going to annoy, huh?”

daryl stiffens a bit at the touch of your hand on his knee. it’s unexpected and he could feel the warmth through his jeans. he knew you wanted to help him and he knew you cared, but he was too used to being self-sufficient. yet, there was something about you, something that made him want to let his guard down and accept you. to allow your kindness to seep through the many walls that he’d built over the years.

so, after a short pause, he lets out an exhausted sigh and the faintest smile graces his lips, “mhm, cause i’m the only one that puts up with ya.”

"okay, wow. rude." you scoff a laughter, and shove his knee with the hand that was still on it. you let out a small sigh after a moment, before meeting daryl’s gaze once more. you don’t say anything, not for a second, you just wanted to take him in. "y'know, i don't think i've ever seen you smile. not like that anyway.”

he was surprised when you shoved his knee, more surprised by the fact that he didn’t expect to enjoy it. he lets out a small huff of a laugh at your reaction. though, the moment is short lived when you mention his smile and it quickly fades, the tension from earlier returning to his jaw.

“yeah, well, i ain’t much of a smilin’ kinda guy,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing.

you let your gaze fall to your lap, your fingers idly playing with a loose thread on your pants. “maybe you should be. you have a nice smile,” you shrug, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks immediately.

daryl’s heart suddenly seems to jump inside his chest at your comment, the words catching him off guard. no one had ever said that he had a nice smile before. though, coming from you, it seemed to hit him hard in a way that he had never felt before.

the smallest touch of pink spreads across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he glances to the side, avoiding your gaze as you look back up at him. “shut up,” he mumbled under his breath, the words without any malice just more embarrassed than anything.

“i’m being serious. i like your smile,’ you admit, causing not only yours, but daryl’s heart to race even more.

the honesty in your statement causes him to look back at you, his heart slamming against his chest. the sight of how sincere you are causes his stomach to twist and yet, he feels as if he could melt into the wooden steps beneath him.

“… shut up,” he says again, though it’s said with less embarrassment and more just overwhelmed feelings, and the faintest hint of a smile returns to his lips.

you just shake your head, and roll your eyes, at his reaction. he was so cute whenever he got flustered, and you enjoyed the fact of knowing you were the one that had caused it. though, you decide not to push him any further and leave it, letting yourselves enjoy the rest of the quiet before you knew you had to eventually head back inside.

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend ignored you

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader genre: fluff (itz not zat zeep) word count: 1.8k notes: soft jay hours

Lately, something has been bothering you.

"Ugh..." You scrunched your forehead as you sat in your corner of the office, lost in your thoughts. Your mind was full of worries, and you couldn’t shake off the confusing feelings that weighed on your heart.

"What's wrong with him?" One of your co-workers passed by your desk, curious about your mood.

"He's just thinking too much," your quirky office friend jumped in, excited for some office gossip.

"About what?"

"He'll be fine. He’s just being dramatic," your other co-worker said, leaning back in his chair. "He’s been like this since he got here—"

"I'm not being dramatic!" You protested, your voice rising a bit.

"See?" Your co-worker pointed at you with a teasing look.

Frustration filled you, and you scratched your head quickly, feeling stuck with this problem. It wasn’t just any small issue; it felt really important.

"Totally," your quirky friend agreed, tapping her pen on your desk playfully. "Veins popping, eyes turning red... He’s really in his head."

"But it’s Jay!" You whined, spinning your office chair around.

Your colleagues groaned collectively at the mention of your boyfriend’s name. Of course, it had to do with your sweet love life.

"Let me guess, he wanted to see that new musical movie?" Your laid-back co-worker chimed in without missing a beat. You turned to him and nodded eagerly.

"Yes! Yes!" You stomped your feet like a child. "But now I feel like I messed up!"

"It’s not the end of the world if you don’t go to the movies. The film will still be there," he pointed out, trying to be practical.

"But still! He really wanted to take me out since this is all the time he has before going back to his gigs!" You squeezed your face in frustration. "And this morning, he just ignored me."

A chorus of mock gasps filled the air.

"Come on!"

"You do realize he’s still a person, right? He probably didn’t notice he was ignoring you," your co-worker patted your back, trying to comfort you.

"But..."

"But?"

"He didn’t give me cuddles... I miss his cuddles when he’s all tired and sleepy..."

Your quirky friend let out a dramatic sigh, moving closer to you.

"You know what you should do?" she suggested, her eyes sparkling with ideas. "Surprise him tonight."

You looked at her, confused. "With what?"

"You know."

"Huh?"

Your other co-worker facepalmed at her suggestion, while you raised an eyebrow in realization.

"It’s not that easy!"

"What? You said he gives in easily!" Your friend insisted, pushing the idea.

"You really need to stop sharing so much about your boyfriend at work," your laid-back co-worker sighed, shaking his head.

"But he can’t be that down right now! He hates being upset..."

"Okay, I’ve heard enough," your closest co-worker stood up and walked away from the conversation.

Your quirky friend leaned in closer, her expression softening. "Just try to stay calm and talk to him before the day ends," she said sincerely. "I’m sure he’s not mad."

You thought about her words. Even though Jay could get mad at his friends, he had never gotten mad at you, even during playful teasing.

"I hope so..." You rubbed your forehead, trying to ease your stress.

"It’s just not like him to ignore me..." You mumbled, feeling down.

"Oh come on, you sometimes forget to text him back when you’re here," your friend reminded you.

You looked at her, realization hitting you. "Oh my god... I'm a hypocrite, aren’t I?" You sighed, feeling embarrassed, but your quirky friend just laughed.

"Don’t worry," she said, trying to cheer you up. "He still loves you, I’m sure."

As the long workday finally ended, you packed your things and got ready to head down the elevator. With your phone in hand, you scrolled through your contacts, searching for that one sweet photo of your boyfriend.

I should call him like I usually do, you thought. Maybe he’ll be okay and reply like nothing happened.

With a light tap, you dialed Jay's number, his nickname decorated with two hearts on your screen. You gazed at the cute photo you took of him on one of your dates. His smile was unforgettable.

"Hello?" He answered, his voice warm and familiar.

"Hi, honey..." You said softly.

"Hi? What's up?"

".... I'm sorry." You mentally kicked yourself as you said those words. You were supposed to hold back, but it just slipped out.

"You're cutting in and out..." He tried to speak clearly, but the call was breaking up. All you could hear were garbled sounds like "ksher ksher" and "zzh zzhh."

"Hello? Honey? You’re breaking up—"

"Let me call you later." He hung up before you could check if the problem was on your end. You sighed, watching the call end, the wallpaper of him smiling back at you.

So you just have this saved pic as your wallpaper, huh? WHIPPED.

All you could think about was how much you loved this man.

As you let out another heavy sigh, you stepped out of the elevator, fixing your hair and scarf as you walked outside.

As you passed through the rotating doors, you noticed a crowd gathering outside your office building. People were piling up, excitement buzzing in the air. You felt the urge to see what was happening.

"They're definitely a band. I saw them on TV."

A band? Right outside your office building was a plaza, a usual spot for performances. But the crowd seemed too big for it to be just any local act.

"Are they famous?"

"Are you kidding? They're Enhypen! They were on that band show..."

You turned sharply to one of the people trying to see what was going on. "Enhypen? They’re here?"

"I think so? It’s just a random plaza, though. Could be cover artists."

"No, it’s them! I saw Jake and Sunghoon there!"

They’re just outside?!

"Hey, you over there!" A familiar voice boomed through the speakers, full of energy. It was a voice you knew well, one that made your heart race.

Slowly, you turned your head as other people stared at you.

"This one's for you."

Park. Jongseong. In the flesh. Pointing his damn finger right through your heart.

He adjusted the microphone on the shaky stand, his charm lighting up the crowd. Even if the equipment wasn’t the best, he looked amazing, holding the mic like it was meant for him. He began to sing your favorite song—a sweet, romantic tune.

Cheers erupted as he finished, applause ringing out from everyone, including your co-workers, who cheered for him and his bandmates.

As snow started to fall gently around you, Jay rushed toward you, concern on his face as he adjusted your scarf.

"You’re shivering," he said, worry in his voice. But all you could do was look at this wonderful man you called yours.

"It’s... fine," you replied, holding his hand. He paused, looking down at your joined hands before meeting your gaze.

In that moment, everything felt perfect as snowflakes floated around you. His eyes sparkled, reflecting the light and warmth of the moment.

You couldn’t hold back any longer.

"I'm sorry!" you both blurted out at the same time, creating a funny mix of apologies.

"Wha-what?"

"I'm sorry, why are you sorry?"

"Wait, I'm sorry. What are you trying to—"

You both laughed, the tension fading away. Jay still looked a bit confused, which only made it more charming.

"I said I'm sorry. I felt like I hurt your feelings when you wanted to watch a movie with me during your free time..." You held his hands tightly, feeling sincere.

Jay tilted his head, a smile spreading across his face. "No way! I totally get it, honey." He pinched your cheek playfully. "It’s not like I’m going far away."

"But you wanted more time with me."

"I know." Jay’s smile was real, a sign of understanding. "I thought you were mad at me for being too needy."

"What?" You exclaimed, your voice rising in surprise.

"Slow down."

"I would never! NEVER!" You declared firmly. "If anything, I want to always be close to you! I like the clingy you!"

Jay couldn’t help but laugh, and you hugged him tightly, feeling the warmth between you. At that moment, he rested his head on your shoulder.

"I was worried for nothing," he whispered softly.

"Hey, that tickles!" You booped his nose playfully. "And same here. I thought you were ignoring me."

Jay looked at you with sincerity. "Sorry. I was just in my own head this morning. I didn’t mean to tune out."

You smiled back, brushing a stray hair from his face. "It’s okay. I understand now."

Taking one last look at him, you wrapped your arms around him again. "Don’t ever feel shy with me! We’ve been a couple for years! Come on!"

Jay chuckled at your words, a mix of affection and disbelief shining in his eyes. He often felt insecure whenever you seemed upset, worrying that he could do better. But in the end, you always calmed him down, reminding him that he was enough and that you accepted him just as he was.

You fixed your clothes, pulling away slightly from Jay’s embrace. "So, are we still going to see the movie?"

Jay’s smile grew wider, his eyes filled with joy. "It’s tonight. We won’t be late if we hurry."

"Yay!" You grabbed his face and kissed him quickly, catching him off guard. He blinked in surprise as you linked your arm through his, walking side by side toward the cinema.

Meanwhile, in the distance...

"Are you seeing that? He just left us!" Jake shouted, struggling to carry amplifiers toward the van as he watched you walk away with Jay.

"You're just jealous you don’t get to use anyone as an excuse to go out," Sunghoon replied dryly, packing up other gear. He wasn’t wrong, though.

"Shut it, man!" Jake scratched his head, feeling a bit embarrassed by that comment.

| masterlist! | previous | next |

[my-starlights]

ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ…

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which you stumble into your ex, Nanami Kento.

ʟɪᴍʙᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. Angst :: hurt/comfort :: fluff at the end :: sfw

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Nanami Kento  :: Gojo Satoru

ʀᴜɪ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. It’s been a while since I wrote something haha… I said I’d do geto but Nanami has my heart so here we are 😭

ᴡᴄ.  1.1k

“Listen, let’s be mature about this, please.”

The light on your phone glares into your glassy eyes.

“I don’t want this either, but you’re not a child anymore.”

Even though you’re looking at couplecore posts on social media, Kento’s voice keeps breaking through.

Stupid lovey-dovey couples on Tik Tok. You angrily swipe at your eyes and press ‘not interested’ at the video.

“If you can’t handle this argument like an adult, perhaps you should take a step back from this relationship.”

Your phone suddenly turns dark - agh, it died - and with a huff you set it down to charge, looking at the ceiling. It’s been three weeks since your messy breakup with Nanami Kento, and social media isn’t helping you forget about you and your boyfriend’s - ex-boyfriend’s - argument;  it started as a small confrontation about him overworking and ended with… with this.

You, leaving your shared home and going to your old Jujutsu Tech dorm.

Kento, still at his office, head in hands and unable to focus.

You know he’d never cheat; but it seemed like he was working to the bone. No more weekend dates or him coming home to you cooking dinner; he was at the office more than he’d see you, and for weeks on end. You’d been crying, begging him for a break from work, and him stoically telling you in an impatient voice that this was just what being an adult was.

The two of you never fought like this before. Ever since the argument, you feel as if a chunk of your being was forced away from you, leaving you empty. Alone. You feel a lump in your throat and swallow, blinking back more tears.

It’s time to move on, you reason with yourself. It was nearing midnight.

You sigh and close your eyes.

—

The next day, you wake up with the same sense of dread you’ve had in the past couple weeks, and just as you exit the old dorms… you see Gojo Satoru. Of course. You hadn’t seen him alone in a while, only with his girlfriend.

He spots you and strolls towards you, running hand through his hair. Was he… relieved?

Something’s awry.

“Ah! I’ve been looking for you,” he says, sighing as he takes in your somber appearance. “Everywhere. You have no idea.”

“Well here I am,” you say tiredly. “Why… why were you looking for me?”

“Nanami has been quite worried about you, you know. He wouldn’t tell me anything other than that. He’s asked me to look for you and taken time off from work, and everything.”

What? Kento off of work? This only happened on birthdays or holidays. And Gojo actually listening to Kento for once too? This has never happened.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Well, I don’t know why anyone’s looking for me. I’ve been here. Besides, Kento and I, we’ve broken up, so—“

“WHAT??” Gojo screeches, and you jump back, surprised by the noise. “YOU’RE NOT TOGETHER ANYMORE?”

You rub your temples. “Not anymore, I think?  He said I should take a step back from our relationship, and—“

Gojo is about to screech again when Kento walks up, hair ruffled and tie loosened, looking ready to murder Gojo. “Leave,” he barks at Gojo. “You found her, now go bother someone else.”

You jerk away from the two men. What the hell is happening?

Kento moves up to Gojo mutters something into his ear;  the latter turns pink and begins walking away, looking at you apologetically. Kento rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to you.

“Oh, love,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry about the past couple weeks. It wasn’t you who was immature, it was me.”

You look at him, defensive, eyes already slightly glassy. “You broke up with me. And now you want me back? That’s not how break ups work.” You pivot on your heel, heart breaking at his surprised face, and start walking briskly away, him quickly catching up.

“Love, I didn’t mean to… we’re not seriously broken up, are we? I never meant to… I was speaking without thinking, please don’t tell me you thought we’re broken up…”

You turn to Kento abruptly, still walking. “What was I supposed to think?” You say, incredulous.

“No, no, no, love, I’m so sorry, please just stop walking—”

“—Kento, I’m not mature enough for you. I don’t take what you take seriously, I’m childish near you, and you made that clear. I understand now—“

You’re interrupted by Kento falling to his knees in front of you. “Love,” he says, collecting your palms in his hands. “Please forgive me. I was the immature one, you’re too good to me, you were looking out for me—“

“Kento please get up—“

“—You need to understand this. You’re the love of my life, how could I ask that you step back? I’m ruined without you—“

“—Kento, please just—“

“—you’re the love of my life, I’m so sorry, I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I’ve started going only part-time at my job. I’m ready to do the best I can for you. You were worried about my well being and I punished you for it. Please just forgive me…”

Tears finally start rushing down your face, but Kento doesn’t let go of your hands. “Oh, Ken…” you sniffle. “You started part-time? For me? Please get up, I…. Let me hug you….”

He rushes up, feeling the blood run to his head, but he doesn’t care; you hug him hard, still crying. He feels a stab in his chest every time he feels a tear sink into his shirt.

You mumble against his broad chest. “I forgive you,” you mumble. “I missed you, Ken. I love you.”

He wraps you in a hug, looking down and cupping your face. His usually steady voice tremors slightly. “Am I still your… are we still together?”

You smile up, eyes watery, at him. “If you’ll have me.”

He hugs you hard. “There is no universe in which I don’t want you. I… let’s not do this here, love. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Your eyebrows crinkle in a way Kento didn’t realize he missed. You look up at him. “Home?”

“You think I just meant to apologize and move on? No, love, I have gifts for you. And a dinner planned. I don’t want to spend any more time at work that I could spend instead with you.”

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his, then lean upwards to peck his cheek. “I love you, Ken,” you say, stepping back.

The somberness, the loneliness you felt just this morning, fade away. The part of you that broke after your fight seems to mend itself back into you. Finally, you’re….

Complete again.

© property of @ghost-buddies. do not repost, translate or edit.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 36 Have you left a seat for me?

Final chapter of Moonlight

A/N- The final chapter! but there will be an epilogue!!

Warning- some angst, FLUFF!!!! Talks of death and violence, SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- Past 578

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

And there he is ever so gracefully under the moonlight, like a wild wolf admiring the beautiful moon. Only Cregan is very quietly watching over your son as he continues to talk to Alys, making sure that she doesn’t…cast a spell on him you assume? He is very wary of her because of what she can do.

“How is it going?” You interrupt his silence even though he already heard you approaching him since you were a few paces back.

“I do not know,” he shares as he peers over his shoulder and watches you break the barrier of space that was between you by wrapping your arms around his waist, and then pressing a kiss on his shoulder blade before resting your chin on his shoulder.

“He left dinner a while ago to come talk to her again,” he adds as he turns his head away to continue watching the pair distancing themselves from the Weirwood tree—“At least he hasn’t turned into a frog.”

You roll your eyes and gently knee the back of his leg, causing him to laugh breathlessly as he cups your hands wrapped around him before drifting his gaze to the corner of his eyes to be able to look at you.

“We can ask in the morning,” you try to assure him. “Just trust her okay? Has Alys given you a reason to distrust her? Alys likes the kids. All of them. If she didn’t she wouldn’t have agreed to help.”

Cregan hums in comprehension and then turns around to be able to look at you, letting you see his conflicted eyes brewing under the moonlight. “I tried talking to Jacaerys, but he brushed me off. Again.”

You watch the desperation in his eyes and lift your hand to stroke his jaw. “My love, he’s drinking right now and carried away with his brothers. Try again when he’s sober. Alright?”

Cregan nods his head and then lifts his hand to caress your arms. “I have been dropping my woes on you, how was your funeral?”

The softness taking ahold of your eyes fades and that sorrow and ache once again contorts your face. Cregan notices right away and interjects rapidly. “I am sorry I could not be at your side. I wanted to…”

“But Aemond would not have liked it,” you finish his sentence and move away from him to start leading him away from the Godswood. “So it’s okay. I already told you it was. Besides, the girls were at my side in your place.”

“And because they wanted to be there too,” he adds, causing you to respond with a small smile that tells him that you know that too.

“And I'm grateful for it…” You trail off and your smile fades whilst agony quickly takes over the sorrow as you think back to what Aerion said and did earlier.

“Do you think…I did something wrong to make Aerion and Daenys forsake their father?” You have to ask out of helplessness because what Aerion said has been gnawing at your mind all night and wounding your heart for Aemond— “You know I tried to keep our people from speaking ill of him when they lived in Winterfell, and I never talked bad about him to them either, but they still don’t acknowledge him. That’s why Daenys didn’t bother showing up for his funeral.”

Cregan glances at you and sees your distress and guilt clearly spewing out, making this conversation easier to navigate. “They know what you told them. They remember your efforts of painting him in a good light so they can look at him fondly, but, my darling, they are adults now and you cannot keep the world silent.”

Your frown deepens and you whisper. “I know.”

He swallows back nervously and continues to be brutal but honest. “They were going to learn about their father's doings and form their own opinion about him one way or another. Besides, they…didn’t know him as you did, so the good shared by one person cannot outweigh the bad written in history and shared by thousands.”

You draw in a shaky breath and nod, leaving a silence to spread between you and linger as you make your way to your dragon. Cregan doesn’t know that but he follows you anyhow with the silence not bothering him.

“One time,” you break the silence and keep the melancholy emotions running high. “A Red Priestess told me that three of my children would be followed by sin,” you pause and Cregan looks at you bewildered, not because he finds what you’re saying absurd, but because he can’t believe you seem to take words from the priestess so seriously.

“I have tried to break my head trying to figure out what she meant for so long…”

Cregan sighs out of annoyance but he doesn’t fail to amuse you. “What does it mean?” He probes.

You glance at the starry sky and share what you assume. “Daenerys is a bastard. We cannot deny that. We can't spin it any other way. She was created while I was married to Aemond,” you say with no actual guilt or distress because you don’t let that fact bother you anymore—“And Daenys and Aerion will always be overshadowed by the actions of their father and me. Kinslayers. Every time someone figures out who their parents are, that's the first thing that will come to mind. That sin.” Your voice breaks but tears don’t spill. You continue to look distressed.

“That should not bother you. They’re words of a witch. I have told you this many times.”

“But it does,” you retort and drop your eyes on him. “Because it’s what makes me a bad mother.”

Cregan lifts his eyebrow and leans his face towards you to whisper. “If you’re a bad parent then I am one too. I cannot talk to my sons and in turn, they don’t trust me enough to bear their sorrows on me. They think I hate them because I cannot simply talk to them. I am too cold. I am their Lord rather than their father, so don’t bear that burden alone.”

You hold his gaze and your eyes soften with awe as you let out a soft and relieved scoff. In turn, Cregan strokes your chin and then drags his hand up to caress your cheek, making you lean into his touch.

“I love you,” you remind him, making a warmth creep onto his cheeks and a timid smile tug on his lips.

“I love you too,” he doesn’t hesitate to redirect.

You hold his grey eyes for a second longer before you look ahead and pick up your speed as you walk past the castle gates and see Astraea curled up outside the wall since she’s too big to fit within the castle walls and too protective to stray far to find a nice open space to rest.

“<Look at you!>” You exclaim to your beloved dragon in High Valyrian and skip before you jog to her. “<Too worried to go far?>” You ask. “<Good girl,>” You coo as you reach Astraea and throw your arms around her snout.

This time Astraea fills her silence by letting out an affectionate growl. You proceed to caress her and press your forehead against her, choosing to leave it there for a moment, but then getting interrupted by the sound of a word that sends you in alert. “Mother.”

Your eyes snap open and you move away from Astraea without letting her go to follow the sound and that’s when you catch Jacaerys sitting against Astraea with a goblet in his hand that he lifts in the air for you, and Cregan walking up behind you.

“Father.”

You share a quick glance with Astraea and then let your hands slip to slowly approach Jacaerys. “I’m surprised you’re out here, Jace.”

He scoffs and takes a long drink of wine before he gives you his response. “Why? You should know I’m going to enjoy my last bits of freedom before I am forced to wither away at the Wall.”

You blink repeatedly out of nervousness and then you snap at him. “Jacaerys. We already talked. Don’t—”

“All for you father,” he cuts you off and pushes the cup toward Cregan slowly making his way to you and Jacaerys.

“Jacaerys.”

“It's alright,” Cregan assures you. “He may speak his mind.”

Jacaerys rolls his eyes away as he turns his head away. Cregan reaches where you are and pats your arm before walking past you to be closer to Jacaerys.

“Why are you mad at me, Jace?” Cregan asks, making your stomach knot with concern. Especially as Jacaerys keeps quiet for a while.

Astraea senses this and turns her head to gently tap your side with her snout so you can relax. And you do take a breath but you still feel worried. More so as Jacaerys finally meets his father's eyes.

“Because of you and this need to send me away to the Wall,” he finally snaps with his eyebrows quickly furrowing. “I may not be next in line to be Lord like Rickon or Maekor. I may not have dragon dreams like Torrhen, or be married to a lady with a powerful family, but have you ever thought about what I wanted and not what you wanted? Have you thought about the fact that wasting away with a bunch of old men is not what I consider honorable? It’s always, “It's an honor”, or “It’s your duty”, that I started to be someone that I wasn’t to believe it, but I’m tired. I do not want to be a Brother of the Night's watch. That’s not me.”

Cregan drops his head and places his arms on his hips, whilst Jacaerys glances over at you with a flicker of surprise over the fact that he just said all that to his father. And as Cregan remains quiet Jacaerys speechlessly asks for reassurance so you offer him a small nod and a gentle smile, letting him draw in a deep breath and return his attention to his father.

“Then what do you want, Jacaerys?” Cregan interjects as he lifts his eyes off the ground to look at Jacaerys without anger. It would be heard in his voice if he was angry.

“I,” said man pauses but not because he’s caught off guard or clueless. He just exhales and then continues. “I cannot have a dragon like mother, but maybe I want to sail and…see the world like Yi-Ti, or some other distant land. This world is big. I don't want to just waste away in some corner imagining what it might look like when I have the ability to actually know it.”

A proud smile spreads on your face as you hear your son's dream. One similar to the one you had once upon a time.

“It was told to me that a Stark always had to serve the Wall. With all your brothers having a place in this world, I placed that duty on you without taking your opinion under consideration. And maybe if your mother had been another woman I would have forced you, but…” Cregan pauses and looks back at you with an admiring smile. “I have heard your words before. I know that girl would want nothing more than to let you go and do what she couldn’t,” he says, making your smile tremble—“So go if you want Jace,” he directs back at his son. “Or stay. Follow your heart. Be free and keep dreaming in ways that girl couldn’t.”

Jacaerys eyes fall and you see his mind racing so you approach Cregan and hook your arm around his. He turns his head and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

“Mother…is it true?” Jacaerys questions since your past desires are something you haven’t shared with your kids. It’s been forgotten for a long time until now.

“Once. I always wanted more, but your father helped me see that I already had so much in what I was given. I just had to learn to see it and enjoy it. Besides…my place was always here. I learned that long ago, but your place…is wherever you want it to be because you don’t have the burdens we did…so be free Jace.”

Said man nods in comprehension and his breath shudders as he lowers his head again. Cregan takes this time to approach him and take a seat beside him without uttering a word. He just sits with his son, causing the boy to slowly look at his father with an appreciative smile.

Cregan slowly meets his gaze and offers a sweet smile in return, making your heart swoon as you watch the silent interaction from where you stand.

——

*A FEW DAYS LATER*

“<Trust me we’re getting out of here now,>” you assure Astraea since she’s not a fan of the Riverlands. “<But I do have to tell you that when we get to King’s Landing you’ll have to fly to Dragonstone. Aegon…” you breathe out as you stroke her face. “Is not a fan of you, so stay at Dragonstone until it’s time to leave okay?>”

Astraea, like always doesn’t respond, you know she listens but she can’t respond.

“Are you flying Astraea to Kings Landing?” You hear a voice travel into your ears, making your hands fall off Astraea to turn and face Torrhen joining you and your dragon in the field past the castle walls.

“Not yet. I don’t want to leave you all behind for two weeks,” you let him know and watch Astraea as she pushes herself up and crawls closer to Torrhen to nudge him gently.

“About that,” Torrhen brings up softly as he lays his eyes on Astraea. “I am going to stay with Alys. Just until you make your way back this way. After that, I am leaving back home with you.”

You blink in surprise and then your eyebrows knot together. “Are you…sure? You don’t want to go see your sister? Or your uncles?”

Torrhen's grey eyes slowly find you and he sighs before he explains his reasoning. “I would like to, but I have been learning so much from Alys, and she still has a lot to teach me. I don’t want to waste this opportunity, not while my mind is still rampant. I still cannot make sense of what I see, but…the weight of them is not as heavy anymore and it’s thanks to her.”

Your confusion and concern falls and the corner of your lips show your amusement as it rises. “And you didn’t want to talk to her,” you remark teasingly, making him laugh under his breath.

“Maybe after this, I can be unburdened by my dreams and visions and be carefree like her,” he adds, causing you to fall serious and close the space between you to wrap your hand around his arm and gently caress him.

“If that's what you believe then stay,” you assure him since even if he wasn’t asking, he was still seeking your opinion without demanding it. “And then come home,” you press, but quickly break into a smile to let him know you’re not all that serious about demanding him home.

“Or don’t. If that’s what you want. I will be sad, but it is normal.”

Torrhen shows his pity, but he quickly consoles you. “My place is still at home. Do not worry.”

You scoff and nod lightly in comprehension before you let go of his arm and offer him a sweet smile. “Stay then, and after…talk to your father? Him and Jacaerys talked, so maybe you can try talking with him now.”

Torrhen sees the desperation and the plea in your eyes so even if he’s hesitant he tries to please you. “I will try. I swear.”

You let out a breath of relief and when he notices the change on your face he flashes you a faint smile before he licks his lips and tries to share his concern. “Will you be okay when you return to King's Landing?”

You have returned to King’s Landing many times already, so going shouldn’t bring you so much conflict, but you still grow stiff and nervously avert your gaze. “I always am,” you respond in a stiff voice and then drift your eyes over to him to offer him a faint smile to go with your response.

“Now,” you avoid going deeper into that conversation since he knows more than anyone you're depressing history with King’s Landing. “See us off?”

Torrhen doesn’t deny your request, he happily lets you hook your arm around him to return to the castle side by side.

The moments that follow aren’t eventful, you stick to your schedule and depart from Harrenhal to head to King’s Landing whilst also leaving Torrhen behind with Alys with no protests from anyone. Then again what could they say? Even if this would be his first time being alone away from home, he’s a man grown trying to make sense of his abilities. It’s best to leave him be so he can get his help.

Besides, the further you get away from Harrenhal and your youngest child, the less you worry about him and the more that you feel distressed by returning to King's Landing, the land where you once lived your life for fifteen years.

Happy memories were made there. Good memories you cherish, but the grief, agony, torment, and the violence that you lived through there is what makes itself present every time you think about King’s Landing and every single time you've returned because it’s a constant reminder of what you lost. Just like Dragonstone. Albeit you can actually step foot in King’s Landing, you cannot and have not returned to Dragonstone—Even if it’s been twenty-five years since your mother died.

Time was supposed to heal you. Turn your wounds into scars, and then distant and faded memories, alas, the moment you arrive to the great capital and lay your eyes on the amazing Red Keep, you curse everyone who said such a stupid thing because twenty-five years since your mother's death, twenty-six years since Aemond’s death, and twenty-seven years since the war started has not passed in your heart or your mind. The memories and the anguish are not vivid anymore, but the scar hurts, and the ache is a reminder of what you no longer have.

At least there is happiness and light in the family you do have living here though. They keep the storm at bay and break a smile on your face.

“Grandmother!” The sweet little sing-song voice of Naerys rings as she breaks out of formation and makes her way to you.

You beam right away as you see your young granddaughter running to you and meet her halfway to quickly sweep her off her feet and hold her against you. “Hello, my little songbird,” you coo as you hug her tightly. “How are you feeling, hm?” You ask right away.

“Oh grandmother I have missed you,” she lets you know before she pulls back to face you with her sweet blue eyes. “I am better.”

You grin brighter. “I’m glad to hear it. And for that, your grandfather and I have brought you a present.”

The little girl's eyes brighten as she grows giddy. “What is it? Where is it?” She asks and looks past your shoulder.

“With your grandfather. You’ll have to wait for him to get here,” you tell her, making her even more eager to know. “Now let’s put you down—”

“Hey! Where is Astraea going?!” Another young voice interjects, making you drift your eyes down to see your grandson Aemon running past you to watch Astraea fly away with a pout—“I wanted to ride her,” he complains as he crosses his arms over his chest whilst you put Naerys down and approach him from behind.

“Forgive me little one. I don’t want to distress your uncle Aegon, so she has to leave,” you tell Aemon, Daenys’ oldest child with her husband and your brother Viserys, making Naerys their youngest child and Aemon’s sister.

“Well,” Aemon huffs and turns around to face you. “Then can you promise that I will ride her with you before you leave?” He pleads and bats his eyes, making you touch your chest and melt.

“Of course, I promise, but first,” you add and crouch to be at his level. “Why don’t you show me some love, hm?”

The little boy grins brightly and then throws his arms around you, causing Naerys to join in and throw her little arms around you too.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you all. You’ve grown so much since I last saw you,” you mutter as you embrace them against you.

“I lost a tooth since we saw each other last,” Aemon shares as he peels back to show the gap where his tooth is meant to be. “Because Aegon pushed me during training.”

You stroke his chin and whisper. “Did you get a coin for that tooth?”

Aemon closes his mouth a nods, causing you to flash him one last smile before you let Naerys go and stand to your given height to turn around and face your daughter Daenys.

Once your eyes are on her, much like her daughter, she breaks from formation and makes her way to you as you make your way to her to meet each other halfway with an embrace.

“I am sorry I could not go to Harrenhal,” Daenys chooses to make that the first thing she still tells you without knowing that her brother already told you the real reason why she chose not to go.

Albeit you don’t bring it up. Like with her brother, you let her be angry and have her own emotions toward her father. Instead, you caress her back and assure her. “It’s alright. I understand. I’m just glad Naerys is okay and I could make it here to see you.”

Without needing to see her you know Daenys is smiling timidly and that’s all you need from her to let the ordeal go.

“When do the others get here? Is Alysanne coming?” She asks as you both pull away from each other and hold each other's hands.

“She is. And they should be here by the end of the day.”

Her smile widens at the sound of the news, making you stroke her cheek before you move to greet your brother Viserys, who was thought of as dead for a while, but a few years after peace was officially announced throughout the realm, a family from Lys sailed to Westeros with him aboard to bring him back home. With conditions of course, but alas, that condition abandoned Viserys a year after she had their son Aegon the Fourth.

After that condition left is when Daenys and Viserys married, out of duty, but also because they grew a liking to each other as Daenys was the Queen’s Lady-in-waiting.

“Vis,” you greet sweetly and don’t greet him with an embrace, instead you cup the back of his neck and offer him a sweet smile that he mirrors with a charm added to it.

“Sister. I’m happy to see you and I know our brother Aegon is eager too, but…” he trails off and you finish for him.

“Astraea. Yes, I assumed. How are you?”

He shrugs. “I have no reason to complain. My daughter made it out of her illness and you are here with the rest of our family soon to join…Aerion is coming, yes?”

You giggle and nod. “Of course.”

His smile grows wider and he nods in comprehension. After that, you step to the side and look down at the little boy standing beside him.

“Hello, Aegon.”

Said boy offers you a faint tight-lipped smile, but that’s it. He doesn’t mirror his siblings' excitement, so you move on to greet the Queen, Daenaera Velaryon, one of your cousins, and the second wife to your brother Aegon after Jaehaera sadly passed away not long after she was crowned Queen and before she and Aegon could have children.

Daenaera is sweet and charming. Kind and understanding which is why you were comfortable greeting your grandchildren, daughter, and brother first, because she doesn’t mind it and because to her your title as the Dowager Queen commands more respect, so she lets you be, plus she knows you’ll never leave her out, and you don’t. After you greet her, you then greet her children standing at her side, but then hastily return to her to touch her expecting belly since you treat her like you do your brothers, with affection and warmth.

Once that greeting is over nevertheless, as all the noise of your welcome has calmed down, you make your way to a drawing room in the royal apartments. One that you would spend your time at with your mother and brothers. One where the setting sun would shine through the balcony window and bask your mother ever so perfectly, making her look ethereal and angelic as she listened to you read your books in Valyrian, or sing a song.

You always liked the end of the day in that room because of that detail. You looked forward to it every day because it was always so warm and comforting. She was always so warm and comforting…

When you're there now, all that's gone, leaving only a sad memory. Thus your exhale is heavy and not relaxed, and when a knock raps on the door you expect to see someone who’s been dead a long time, but instead you see your brother Aegon walking in so you quickly get up and curtsy. “Your Grace,” you greet, and right away Aegon puts his hands out and interjects.

“Please, you do not have to do that when we’re alone. You’re the Dowager Queen. I owe you my respects,” he says and then offers you a small bow, making you giggle before you make your way around the couch to reach him.

“Dowager Queen or not you are still my King,” you argue, causing him to lower his head and then shake it.

“Perhaps but I prefer to be your brother first,” he counters and you sigh before taking his hands in yours.

“Alright…sweet brother. I’m glad to see you.”

He lifts his solemn blue eyes off the floor to meet your gaze, causing a shuddering breath to escape through your nose as a memory of your mother flashes in your mind. Aegon doesn’t look like your mother, he doesn’t have her eyes or the same color hair. His hair is also pin straight and he’s impressively tall and lean, but even so, as you look into the eyes of the little brother who was with you when your mother died, you see her in him for a fraction of a second.

“And I you,” he redirects as he gently rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs. “Is your dragon…”

“Gone?” You cut him off and then nod. “She flew to Dragonstone. She’ll stay there until it’s time to leave, so you can rest easy.”

He nods stiffly in comprehension and you proceed to take a long look at his thin face, noticing he looks a bit thinner than usual. “Aegon, my sweet, have you been eating?” You ask and he pulls his hands away and nods quickly as if to brush you off.

“Quite well in fact,” he dismisses you and makes his way over to the couch to take a seat, making you walk back to sit beside him.

“Why do you come here first every time you come to King's Landing?” He cuts the other conversation short. “I always mean to ask, but I always forget.”

You intertwine your fingers together and exhale deeply as if trying to work up the courage to share the reason. As if it was costly to your scarred heart. “Uh…when I was a little girl I used to come here with our brothers and mother…”

Aegon shifts slightly at the sound of the memory but you continue.

“…it was not every evening, just some, but we would spend time here whether it be playing, talking about our day, and or doing some different activity, but,” you pause and your eyes flicker to your hands as the memory becomes more vivid than before. “One of my favorite things to do was read or sing to our mother right here on this couch because when the sun was setting it would peek through the balcony doors and all the windows and kiss her ever so gracefully, making her look…absolutely breathtaking, so I would admire her and hope every time that I would grow up to be as beautiful as her…” you trail off and peel your hands away from each other to gently rub the couch before finding the strength to look at him without feeling like you’ll cry.

However, you notice that Aegon is teary-eyed, so you reach over for his hand and cradle it.

“I wish I could have seen that,” he mutters and averts his gaze. “I wish I had been born earlier so I had more time with her like you and our brothers did.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze, causing his eyes to pull back to you and catch your pitiful smile.

“I try to talk to Viserys about our mother, or our father, but…he doesn’t remember how they look like or actually hold a single memory about our life before, so I’m alone in my grief until you’re here.”

If only he knew how alone you felt in your grief whether it was with him, or without him over the simple fact that he never lived in the earlier years when you still lived with your mother and brothers. But you don’t tell him that to avoid breaking his heart.

“If you ever want to talk you can send me a raven,” you remind him. “I’ll answer as soon as I can or even fly here if need be.”

He giggles softly and you can’t help but smile before you drag yourself closer to him and share a small story about your mother since he loves hearing them. Albeit there was a time when he was a boy that he wanted nothing to do with you because of the fact that you left; he was so livid that you left him all on his lonesome, but when he got older and a bit mature he figured out that you left because you had your duty to your husband and your family, and well…older sisters eventually have to leave their little brothers behind to live their lives. He was never aware of the fact that you couldn’t continue living here, and you would never tell him.

“One time when I was a little girl, as you know, I liked going down to the platform by the sea,” you begin your story, sparking eagerness within him to know more.

“I liked to sneak away from my Septa’s, and our mother never got me in trouble even if she was told to, but,” you giggle. “She got curious as to where I always ran off to one day, so she followed me without my knowledge. Every step I took, she took in secret without making a peep. She was rather sneaky. Eventually, when I reached the platform, she came up behind me as I reached my straw man and announced her presence so abruptly that she frightened me so badly that I fell over the ledge with my straw man falling under me, breaking my fall, but not shielding me from the wave that crashed over me. So I got soaked, and after our mother helped me back to stable ground she laughed…and I laughed with her.”

A smile tugs on Aegon’s lips before he laughs softly, making his shoulders shake and his solemn eyes spark with a flicker of joy.

That reaction makes you laugh with him, giggle in fact as you watch him and admire the way he laughs because it’s so rare to hear. You have to grasp and internalize the scraps you’re given. However in doing so, even though the sun is not seeping through the balcony door and all the drawing rooms windows, sunbeams still find their way inside and cast Aegon in its illuminating hue, making his usually dark blue eyes gleam brightly, and making him appear as beautiful as you mother looked when she was basked by the same sun.

For the first time in twenty-five years since her death, for a fraction of a second, your mother was in the same quarters as you in the body of her son. And then…as fast as that second same, she left and you were orphaned all over again.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

After some time of being in King's Landing, it’s finally time to leave, and yes, you’ll miss your brothers, your daughter, and your grandchildren, but besides the memories that haunt you, this place is not as grandeur as you once believed. Thus you’re eager to leave with Alysanne to the Riverlands until she gives birth—albeit you will miss the sea; it’s so far from Winterfell...

Nevertheless, before you can even attempt to leave, you enter your chambers to grab what you need before you meet up with Daenys and Aerion, but as you come across your bed; you see that there's a rather long and wide gift box sitting on the bed.

You look around in confusion before you approach the gift box and notice a small square folded note attached to the ribbon that has your name neatly written on it.

Cregan comes to mind, but he has not eluded to gifting you something. He usually would, but he hasn’t and neither have any of your children, so, you eagerly grab the note to see who it could be from.

“Dear sister,

I found one of Mother’s gowns so I had it tailored for you so you could cherish and wear it. And that’s not at all, in my search I also found one of her rings and I noticed that you fidget with your rings the same way she did, so I had it customized for you.

From,

Aegon.”

Whether you wanted to or not, tears run out of your eyes without warning and stream down the curve of your cheeks whilst your heart dances with pure bliss. You try to open the gift box, but all you can do is put the note down before you start sobbing, and your heart starts aching out of genuine bliss.

You can hardly breathe for quite a while so you have to sit down and catch your breath first before you wipe the tears off your face and pull the box onto your lap. More tears do quickly well up in your eyes, but you ignore them and pull on the ribbon to loosen it and put it aside before you open the box. Thin paper presides over the gown so you yank it off and when you lay your eyes on the black and crimson gown you break down again, but to avoid staining the gown with tears you cover your face to cry into your hands.

After a few more tears you pull your hands away to wipe them off your face and then wipe your hands on your thighs before grabbing a small velvet box that was placed on top of the gown.

Of course, more tears stream down your face and your shoulders tremble as you take in the simple yet beautiful gold ruby ring that once belonged to your beloved mother.

After she fled the city and after she died you never thought you’d find any of her things. Most of the smallfolk took off with the jewelry and the clothes she had to leave behind, leaving only a few things behind, so you didn’t have much until now. And it’s all thanks to your sweet melancholy brother, Aegon.

You smile at your gifts and gently smooth out the gown. You would wear it right away, but the day is coming to an end so you’ll have to save it for later. As for the ring, well, you wear that now and get surprised when it fits just right.

You proceed to linger on the edge of the bed after that with the things resting on your lap until you feel like it doesn’t look like you’ve been sobbing uncontrollably. After that, you set the gift box down on the bed again and grab what you came here for before meeting up with your children.

As expected they’re already waiting for you where you told them to with quite the impatient look painted on their faces.

“Mother,” Daenys complains as she unfolds her arms. “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting here for ages.”

You snicker and roll your eyes as you walk past the pair, catching the way Aerion tries to study your face as evidence that you’ve been crying still remains on your face.

“Mother,” Aerion speaks up as he trails right behind you. “Are you alright?”

You hum in agreement and unlatch the tall windows to push them open and reveal the roofs. The same roofs that Aemond and you would escape to when you were children—“Come,” you urge them and step out of the window to stand on the roofs.

“Mother,” Daenys calls out. “Are you mad? What are you doing?!”

“Just come on,” you brush off her panic and lead them away from the window and around the corner where no windows decorate the walls so you aren’t seen. Aerion and Daenys are hesitant to follow, you almost believe that they won’t follow you, but eventually, you see them peeking around the corner.

“Mother,” Aerion calls out now with worry, but you just pat the empty spots beside you.

The siblings look at each other with concern but Daenys takes the risk and falls by your side, Aerion lingers behind cautiously, so you interject with amusement. “We will not fall, trust me. I have done this hundreds of times.”

“I believe you,” Daenys mutters and raises her head to peek over the ledge.

“We will not stay long,” you assure them, and then turn around to dig into the bag that you brought with you and pull out things they have not seen before.

Aerion notices that you’re pulling things out of your bag so he carefully makes his way over to join you and his sister. “This is completely unsafe,” he mutters. “You are meant to safeguard us, not put us in harm's way.”

You snort and cover the things by pulling back a thin layer of your gown. “I fought in a battle with your sisters in my belly, and have taken you on dragonback when you were babes. I am not someone who takes safety as my priority, besides, you will be fine. Unless you’re reckless. Are you?”

Aerion carefully takes a seat beside you and then shakes his head and deadpans. “No.”

You shrug to brush him off and then move along with the matter at hand. “I brought you here today because when we were in the capital together a few years back, I…never took your feelings toward your father under consideration. I worried about my own grief and my own loss that I disregarded yours and thought lies that I would only recently uncover. So now that the three of us are here I summoned you to a…rather unexpected place, but it’s a place where Aemond and I would come to when we were kids. So it’s special.”

Aerion and Daenys share another quick glance before their eyes fall on your lap as you yank off the layer of your gown to show what you brought.

“This,” you continue to speak before they have the thought of interrupting and pick up a hand-carved wooden siren. “Is a siren your father carved me when he was a boy. He lacked a dragon so he picked up other talents, and whittling was one of them.”

You put the siren down and grab the heart-shaped book that holds songs and ballads in Valyrian. “This,” you move on to the book. “Is a rare book of ballads and songs he scoured the earth for because he knew how much I loved to sing in Valyrian, and well, he really liked it when I sang in our mother tongue.” You giggle and pass the book to Aerion since he’s more musically inclined than Daenys.

“And this,” you move on to the third thing made of glimmering gold and beautiful gems. “Is a circlet inspired by one of my favorite ancestors, Daenys the Dreamer. He,” you pause and draw in a deep breath to calm your racing heart—“he had this done like one Daenys wore in a drawing of her in one of the history books because he knew how much I looked up to her. It was after I had you, Aerion.”

Said man sits in silence for a moment and when he returns the book to your lap he quips, “expecting a girl?”

You smile bashfully. “Desired a girl, yes, but we were still rejoiced when we had you…he really did love you Aerion, and you too Daenys. He never got to meet you, but he loved you. He cared about you both,” you finally share what you came here to say as you put the circlet down to give them your attention.

“If he really did love us like you say,” Aerion cuts in while Daenys remains quiet—“he would have tried harder to make it back to us, but he fought and died. He left and died.”

You nod rapidly. “Yes. Yes, don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I was furious too? I was left widowed with three children. Newborn twins and an infant. I was mad too Aerion, because he died after he promised that it was just us in this world that mattered. Him and me…Me and him, but he left with only traces of him to haunt me.”

“Then perhaps he should have fought harder,” Aerion continues to be hard-headed as he pouts down at the surface beneath his feet.

“I…” you trail on with tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. “I was angry at my father once too. I forsook him because he left too. I carried that hate in my heart because I was betrayed by him and my mother. All I felt pulsing through me was my anger, so I know, I know some of that resentment you hold for your own father, but as someone who went through that, as someone who knew how much Aemond loved and cared for you both, I just want you to change your perspectives. Open your hearts and accept a little piece of him at least.”

“But,” Daenys’ sweet voice finally fills your ears. “He was a monster. You have your scar to prove it.”

“And you have a new part of the city to prove my sins,” you defend him by shedding light on your own wrongdoings. “He did bad things, yes, but I did too. Everyone who fought in that war did bad things, some worse than the others, but it was done. It doesn’t make him any less of your father. It doesn’t take away that he still loved you.”

“But you have your life to make up for it,” Aerion argues, making your eyes drift to him. “And you raised us. You were here and made sure that we did not only think of the bad parts when we thought of you. When I think about Aemond…I see the death, destruction, and pain he left behind.”

“Because,” you pause and drop your head to fiddle with the wooden siren. “That’s what you hear. That’s what they all say about him, but he was much more than that. He,” you laugh softly and with a fond smile. “He would watch you sleep to make sure you were breathing when you slept. He went out to make sure you found your dragon so you didn’t feel ostracized like he did. He was selfish, but that made his love that more passionate.”

“I wish…we had memories together,” Daenys whispers in such a way that can only be heard if you’re sitting next to her, so you barely catch what she said—“Not just words spoken by you and others. That’s why it makes seeing him as a monster easier because I can’t even dream of him. At least Aerion can cling onto that, but me…I only have his name and trinkets that have no meaning to me.”

You look at her with pity and you catch tears crawling out of her eyes, but she’s quick to wipe them away.

“I am sorry, my Sweet,” is all you can offer her besides the wooden siren he had made for you—“keep it. It was made by his own hands. It’s not him, but it’s something made by him.”

Daenys carefully takes the siren and looks at you with worry. “Are you sure?” She asks.

You nod and pat her hand. “Positive.”

With a faint smile, Daenys looks down at the hand-carved siren, assuring you without words that she will try to look at her father under a different light, leaving you to seek Aerion’s response to all this now.

“You can’t ask me to forgive him just like that,” Aerion says and tries to hide his quiver.

“Nor will I ask you to,” you reassure him as you take his hand in yours. “Just change your prescriptive.”

Aerion takes a deep breath and then shudders. “I’ll try.”

A relieved look unfurls on your face and you squeeze his hand. “That’s all I want. Monster to man.”

Aerion meets your gaze and shares a faint nod, causing you to raise your hand to stroke his cheek and look into his striking blue eyes for a second longer before you look away and watch the horizon with contentment just like you would so long ago.

Life has been hard. It is still hard sometimes, but you can admit that you know what peace means now. You’re not falling into any abyss. You know happiness, you can find it in every member of your family. You know love, and it’s true you miss so many people, but their loss is not like being pierced in the heart or getting it torn and shattered, it aches when you remember the good moments, but you’ve preserved through your agony and grief, and that’s your greatest achievement because you can love again. You can smile with your lips and your eyes, and you can enjoy the sun's warm embrace as it seems to shine just for you as you dip your feet in the sand and let the salty sea waves crash over your feet on the morning of the day you have to leave King’s Landing.

Everyone else is barely starting to stir awake because you made it your mission to get up as the sun was rising to find serenity by the sea before you left.

Albeit there is one presence who does join you in your moment of solitude, but they don’t announce themselves. They watch you from afar as the sun completely shines just for you, kissing your skin, and making your silver-white hair glimmer like untouched snowflakes on fields of snow.

They can’t see your face since they’re behind you, but they know you well, they can picture your blissful smile as clear as day as you take in the sun and welcome the cold touch of the water. Perhaps—no, this is the best part about departing from the North and visiting King’s Landing and or visiting Driftmark, they get to see you completely enamored by the sea as if you were a mythical creature parted from their home. It’s always breathtaking to see and be a part of it that they don’t want to move from where they are, but after a while of stillness, you’re the one who looks over your shoulder with your smiling gaze.

“Come. Join me,” you wave Cregan over and his lips show off a fascinated smile before he breaks away from his spot and joins your side unable to part his eyes away from your face.

“What?” You quiere with a giddy smile. “Will you dive with me this time? Just a few miles offshore. I swear it this time.”

Cregan’s smile softens and his eyes darken as his pupils dilate even bigger as you’re all that reflects over his gaze.

“You are and have always been my heart's keeper,” he interjects assertively and catches you off guard. “Everywhere you go my heart follows. Even in death, where the sea meets the edge of tomorrow.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you look as if this is the first time he’s ever made such a passionate confession, when in truth he has never stopped reminding you how much he loves you. Physically and with sweet and romantic words. You're the one who lacks in reminding him sometimes, but your heart has never faltered, it has only grown fonder.

“And you, are the reason I am here,” you now offer him a confession of your own filled with just as much passion. “You are the reason my heart beats and why I draw in air. You are my morning and evening star. My light and the color that forbids me from looking at the world in black in white. Everything about you fascinates me, from the inner markings of your soul to your stormful grey eyes.”

Cregan scoffs softly as he stands in disbelief, causing you to react by cradling his cheeks to close the space between you. He follows by wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pushing you to him to rest your foreheads against each other and just breathe in and be in each other's presence under the shining sun, and by the peaceful blue sea.

——

*SEVERAL YEARS LATER*

A loud gasp escapes your lips as your heart jolts and your eyes spring open. However, you’re quickly forced to shield your eyes from the blinding light that shines before you, letting your other senses take in your surroundings instead, like your ears, that catch the sound of louder chatter, laughter, and music in High Valyrian. Your nose also kicks in and you smell freshly made strawberry tarts, roasted pig, and every other traditional Valyrian food that you love.

But it’s weird because the last thing you remember is…getting swallowed by darkness. It was slightly terrifying, but you couldn’t resist its call, you let it take you…here…

You slowly pull your hand down and open your eyes, catching at that moment, the sight of your hands missing the wrinkles that once marked your skin to proudly show off how long you’ve lived. Now besides seeing the expensive and extravagant jewelry decorating your hands and fingers, you see that your hands look like they did when you were a young adult…

You would ask yourself why and start to panic, but as your surroundings come into focus you realize that you’re in a corridor you don’t recognize, but one still so familiar that doesn’t let you feel estranged. You feel at home like this is where you were meant to be the whole time. It’s why your jolting heart that had started to race calms down to a relaxed beat.

That’s not all, the bright light that once blinded you is not actually before you, but casting through the colorful stained glass set on the stone walls that all tell a story of…your Targaryen ancestors. Every major event that you read in books or got told is told on the glass, even the past you lived through.

You see a visual summary of the war, the dragons that fell, and the family that got torn apart. It’s there and as tempted as you are to walk to it to admire it from up close, the commotion coming from behind the tall doors ahead of you is more tempting, so you break away from the spot you woke up from, walk past grand stone dragon heads sitting at the sides of the doors, and without hesitation you push the doors open, catching sight of the beautiful lilac gown on your body made of your favorite silk from Yi-Ti, and catching sight of your long white-silver hair flowing past you with the swift movement.

Yet what does the sight of a beautiful gown and unique colored hair hold compared to what you see in front of you, the marvelous and breathtaking sight of so many different people, all whom you know in your heart have Targaryen and Velaryon blood running through them just like you. They’re all your family…every body and soul is your family that once lived…just like you…That’s right…you’re dead and now you’re…yet in another space you don’t recognize, but it doesn’t feel at all strange; not with the warm setting sun embracing your figure, or the sight of your family.

You could melt with all the heartwarming bliss you’re already filled with, however, before you can melt, the sound of your name breaks through the commotion, snapping your attention straight ahead.

Albeit you don't catch a thing. The sound of your name continues to be called though so you walk down the stairs and go toward the crowd. Before you can make an attempt to break through though, none other than Jacaerys and Lucerys come out, catching you off guard and paralyzing you right where you are.

“Jace,” you breathe out with your eyes set wide with bewilderment and fascination. “Luke.”

The pair look at one another with a teasing smile before they both offer you heart-warming smiles that you start to mirror as your eyes immediately brim with hot tears.

“Jace…Luke,” you call out again and then laugh, making them flash you a grin before they giggle too and set off toward you, causing you to break away from your spot and run at them. When you meet each other halfway you can’t contain your excitement, you jump on them and they don’t fail to catch you or laugh with you the moment you’re wrapped in each other's embrace.

Nothing is said when you’re tangled in each other's arms; no witty remark, and no funny joke, nothing is passed between you but a comfortable silence as the three of you take in the fact that you’re together again. After so much longing, you’re together again and nothing will tear you apart ever again.

“Mother!”

Your eyes snap open and ahead of you comes Alysanne; the girl who reintroduced you to an agonizing grief when she died after the birth of her first child. Following at her side is your eldest boy, your Aerion who died alongside his step-brother Rickon as they fought a war his cousin Daeron started against Dorne.

They were both gone from your life for so long. You mourned their death until your dying breath because losing children was a different and more painful heartbreak than you had felt before. Alas, there they are and every muscle in your body takes you to them right away.

“<My loves,>” you mewl in High Valyrian as you embrace the both of them the same way you embraced your brothers so you wouldn’t leave either of them out.

“<Mother,>” Alysanne cries as she's overcome with emotion. “It's been so long.”

“I’m here now my darling,” you console her as you rub her back. “I’m here.”

Alysanne nods, you can feel her head moving as she welcomes your comfort as if that’s what she’s been needing since she died.

“Oh,” you gasp and step back to turn around and face your brothers. “I’m assuming you know my brothers, your uncles. Jacaerys and Lucerys.”

“Yes, we do,” Aerion lets you know while Lucerys confirms with a nod.

“Don't worry we’ve been looking out for them since they got here,” Lucerys offers you some consolation, making you smile brightly.

“Not that we needed looking out for,” Alysanne quips. “But we’ve been together all this time. We hardly separate.” She says with the corner of her lips perking up.

“Because mother hardly lets them out of her sight,” Jacaerys interjects and your curiosity piques while every single thought becomes about her.

“Mother…” you mouth and let your children go to step forward and probe. “Where is she?”

Jacaerys’ eyes point forward, past the bodies of your children, so you turn around swiftly as if afraid your mother would disappear, and as if intertwined with each other's thoughts, the dancing crowd in front of you begins to drift away, making a path that leads you to the middle of the floor where your mother is under the twinkling candlelight.

She doesn’t spot you right away, it’s not until she probably feels you staring that she turns and steals your breath when your eyes lock together.

“Mama,” your voice quivers and your heart skips a beat as the commotion around you drowns out, the dancing light all over the room dims except for the lights above her, making her the center of all your attention, and making her beauty that much more enchanting to your eye.

Maybe it is because you haven’t seen her in so long, but something about her just glows.

“Mama,” you say again and start moving toward her with a wobbly smile tugging on your lips and tears flying past you.

Your mother doesn’t lack a reaction; her lips part slightly as her eyes glimmer at the sight of you. She doesn’t keep still either, the moment you make your way toward her she comes after you too, letting you meet in the middle of the hall with a tight embrace that connects your hearts and finally feeds that yearning they felt for each other's connection once again.

“<Oh my sweet,>” she coos as she cradles the back of your head and keeps you close.

“<Mama,>” you keep saying as you weep happy tears, feeling the world around you completely disappear, leaving only you and her in the large hall.

No more yearning and no need to strain your mind to remember how she looked or how she smelled. You’re together again, drawing in her calming scent, and basking in the comfort and warmth only she could provide.

You died an old lady, but here, now, with her and the others you’re the age you were mere days before the war started, that brief period where you were endlessly happy and you had it all; your brothers, your son, Aemond, and your mother.

“<We have all eternity together now,>” she assures you, making you beam and grip onto her tighter.

“<And I’m glad for it. Thank you for looking out for my children. Thank you for loving them while I was gone.>”

She scoffs softly. “<I would do it all for your children because they’re my grandchildren too, so there’s nothing to thank me for…you did good my sweet. I’m so proud of you.>”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck and pamper her with more tears.

“Someone’s been waiting for you,” she interjects, pulling you away from her to look her in the eyes, but not ask who because the moment those words leave her mouth, you think about one person. Thus without asking and without guidance of any guide you let her go and drift away from her to head toward the tall windows that decorate the massive stone walls.

The people around you make way for you without needing to be told, or at least you don’t care to excuse yourself because you’re so consumed by the thought of him; of seeing him, of touching him, and being in his arms again. So much so that when you finally make it past the sea of people and find him outside the window sitting on the roof and watching the sun go down, you stop breathing. Your heart feels like it stops beating and the entire world around you freezes except for him, Aemond.

Just like with your mother, there’s no need to say his name, he turns around and your eyes meet, making sparks fly, and reviving your heart. Whilst his jaw drops and his eyes widen while he slowly stands up.

When he starts moving, your legs move in unison, and after breaking every single barrier of space that was keeping you apart, you throw your arms around each other to bring each other as close as you can manage to be without being in each other's skin.

This time unlike the others there’s no words exchanged because no amount of words can explain how enthralled you both are for being reunited. The longing looks speak for themselves when you pull away at arm's length to take in the sight of each other. The matching breaths share how in sync you are, and the smile your faces hold share how connected your souls are.

Still, he gently cups your cheek, and you cradle his face, taking note that he looks the same age he was when you were the happiest; that moment in time before the war, where you had it all. He chose that moment too, leaving you both to be forever young.

“<Me and you,>” he mutters and pulls you toward him to crash his lips on your forehead.

“<You and me,>” you echo and smile tenderly as your heart feels forever content now.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Lived to watch her family die and then outlived her younger brothers and two of her children…

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[eyneyke]

Live reaction

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: What if Felix had a genius brother who works as a RedBull's engineer and is also secretly dating Max part 40 of A Calm to my Storm Masterlist

It was a regular stream day for Felix and Jack. They were casually playing a co-op game, Felix talking about some random meme while Jack kept glancing at his second monitor, where he always had Twitter and some Formula 1 stuff pulled up.

Jack had been talking more about F1 lately — especially after hearing about the wild weekend Sam had had. He was a fan, though he tried to keep it on the down-low. But during this particular moment in their stream, something on his second screen caught his eye, and his jaw dropped.

Jack: "What the fucking shit—"

He ripped his headphones off, eyes wide as he stared at his other monitor.

Pewdiepie (laughing but also surprised at Jack cursing like that while they're live): "Woah, Jack! Chill, what’s going on?"

Jack (still cussing): "Sam, you sneaky little piece of—HE DIDN’T TELL ME!"

Felix looked at Jack, confused. His friend was freaking out, and while Jack could get animated, this was different. And did he mention Sam? Did something happen?

Pewdiepie: "Dude, what’s happening? It's just the game if that's bothering you. You are freaking me out right now. You have never been a sore loser."

Jack: "No, no, no, it’s not the game! It's... Dude! Sam—your brother— he was DATING Max Verstappen this whole time!"

Felix's confusion grew deeper. Sam... Max Verstappen? What?

Pewdiepie (frowning): "Wait, what? Sam and Max? They’re, like, just colleagues, best friends, whatever, right? Why are you freaking out? Don’t start shipping people, dude."

He shook his head and clicked back to the game.

Jack (frantic, shaking his head): "No, no, no! I’m not making this up! I just watched the post-race stream—Christian Horner, the team's principal slipped up, and just OUTED Sam and Max! They’re not just friends, Felix, they’ve been together! Max is Sam's new boyfriend!!!"

Felix paused mid-action in the game, the pieces finally starting to connect. He knew his brother had been dating someone, and sure, Sam talked about work, but this?

Pewdiepie: "Wait, what?! Like... Max? The guy driving the car fast? Dropping him off in private plane and makes internet crazy about Sam's horrible boyfriend is the actual boyfriend?!"

Jack (practically vibrating with excitement): "YES! That Max! The Max Verstappen! Your brother has been dating him and didn’t even tell us! I can’t believe this!"

Jack leaned back, still cussing and laughing at the absurdity of it all, while Felix was left dumbfounded.

Pewdiepie (stunned): "I… I had no idea. He, he didn't tell me... Why didn't tell me?"

He blinked a few times, absorbing the news. "Wait, Sam never even mentioned it? I mean, they’ve always seemed close, but dating?"

Jack: "Yeah, and the fact that this whole time Max has been roasting himself as Sam’s ‘bad boyfriend’ in interviews and NOBODY knew it was him!" Jack was practically beside himself with excitement. "I swear, Sam’s kept this from us on purpose! He knew we were worried."

Felix was quiet for a second, clearly trying to process all this new information about his brother.

Pewdiepie (smirking, shaking his head): "Well, looks like Sam’s been playing a long con on all of us. I’ll have to give him a hard time about that." He chuckled, clearly amused at, and over, the idea of his younger brother keeping such a big secret.

Jack (jokingly whining): "Dude, I just realised... Max Verstappen is your brother in law. That is so not fair, you don't know shit about formula and this happens? Leave Marzia and marry me so that I can celebrate Christmased and other big holidays with you guys."

Felix rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but laugh too. The whole situation was hilarious. Sam, of all people, had been dating the Max Verstappen and managed to keep it under wraps this whole time.

Pewdiepie (laughing): "Man, I’ve never even met the guy, and now he’s not only my brother’s boyfriend but and in-law already? What a day."

Meanwhile, fans in the chat were freaking out too, spamming the comments with excitement, shock, and laughing emojis.

Fan 485: "OMG Pewds’ brother is dating MAX?! WHAT!?"

Fan 486: "What's killing me is the fact that Jack was waching F1 stream while streaming lmao"

Fan 487: "Jack is all of us right now freaking out about Sam dating Verstappen!"

Fan 488: "Pewdiepie’s reaction is PRICELESS."

Fan 489: "I love how Pewds is just like ‘I didn’t know,’ while Jack is losing it lmao"

---

Pewdiepie (grinning): "Alright, alright, calm down in the chat, I guess we’ll have to ask Sam about it when I see him later. I can’t believe he’s been sneaky about this whole thing."

Jack (laughing): "You better! I NEED the full story. And ALL tth details."

The stream continued, but there was no hiding how much of a bombshell this news had been for both Felix and the fans watching. And while Felix may have played it cool on the surface, the wheels were clearly turning in his head — Sam had some explaining to do.

---

Meanwhile, Sam and Max were watching Felix's stream back at their place in London, laughing at the chaos they’d unleashed. Neither of them cared about the public finding out — they’d kept their relationship private for long enough, and if the world knew now, so be it.

Max smirked as he leaned back on the couch, watching Twitter explode.

Max (teasing): "So, when are you going to introduce me to your brother?"

Sam (laughing): "Oh, I think you’ll meet him soon enough. Just don’t burn toast when you do."

Max grinned. "No promises."

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part four)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: jayce ghosts you when you need him most...so you have no choice but to lean on your best friend, ekko

pining, mental health mentions, neurodivergence, lmk if i missed any!

notes: ekko pic...omg... (you may think this series is going slow but i hate a slow burn ass fic that has them fucking chapter three don't pmo...also this evolved way past just jayce and i need to do ekko justice...bc some of yall don't, clocked it)

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

“Do you know that girl Jayce is always with?” 

You arrived to class, ready to learn—but not about physics truthfully. You expected to cut corners, create friendly conversation about nothing, humor Viktor. When you got there, though, you had to ask him immediately. 

“Mel Medara?” Viktor looked to you with intrigue. “I know of her…but not much about her.” He leaned to his left, toward you, “Why?” 

“She’s just always…around? And we spoke to each other once but I was in a hurry…didn’t get much chance for a formal introduction.” 

“Are you certain that your intrigue is rooted purely in your inquisitive nature…or is there another reason you want to share?” 

“No-“ 

The sound of the door towards the front of the class opening interrupted you—it was perfect timing, actually. You would rather not have to unpack why Mel’s presence bothered you so much; truthfully it was an inexplicable feeling. Someone walked in, and you sat up straighter. 

“Hi, everyone! My name is Caitlyn, some of you may know me if you’ve ever been to the student resource center.” She smiled at you, exchanging a look of recognition. “I wanted to formally introduce myself… I will be joining as a TA. If you need anything and can’t get ahold of the professor, you can ask me your course related questions.” She moved to plug a laptop into the projector, “Here is my email for future reference.” She allowed some time for people to copy and take photos of her email down. “Unfortunately, today’s class will be canceled for an emergency…but I was instructed to relay to you that the quiz will still be held next week. It’ll be on vectors and calculating their angles. Be sure to refresh yourselves over the weekend and reach out to me should you have any questions.” People started to shuffle around her, getting up to leave class. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, guys. Feel free to use the space to get some other work done, or leave early.” 

“What the fuck, this was such a waste of my time.” You glanced back towards the board, making sure you got the email address right. “I have been so tired I could be sleeping right now.” 

“I’m sorry, I know you have a lot to deal with right now.” Viktor moved to the end of the aisle, grabbing his cane while slinging his bag over one shoulder. “At least you’ve been in tutoring. The quiz this week should be easier, right?” 

“That’s the thing,” you reached for your phone, “We’ve only just got to vectors so far. That was hard enough.” You hovered your finger over Jayce’s contact, never actually having messaged him. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you started texting him. 

hi jayce 

im sorry to bother you but i have my quiz next week and its gonna be on more stuff than we got to in our sessions

do you have any time to meet with me this weekend? if not thats ok, i can ask my friend

You paused, walking behind Viktor without looking up from the phone screen. 

i just need you

No, you shook your head, continuing the text. 

i just need your help

lmk

ty 

You grimaced at the text bubbles, hating how you split all of that up. You imagined his annoyed face, seeing all of these desperate messages. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t answer. You wouldn’t answer you. 

Viktor turned to you, “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, just frustrated and irritated and angry…thats all.” 

“That’s not a great combination.” 

You shook your head. Without trying, Viktor could always cheer you up. “Unrelated, but did Jayce ask you about what snacks I eat?” 

“He did,” he looked over at you, “It was odd. He said something about ‘reinforcements’ for your guys’ tutoring session.” 

“Oh...okay.” 

Viktor would call himself a lot of things, including perceptive. He didn’t say much, but he noticed the way your eyes lingered on one another when you first met. He was aware of the way you spoke about each other, especially when it was just Viktor around. He simply arched a brow at you, observing your concerned look at the phone screen. 

“Maybe you should take the weekend to rest and recuperate.” 

“I would…but the quiz-“ 

“Just for today. Wait for Jayce to get back to you. Then you can focus solely on next week.” He nodded reassuringly. 

He returned the nod, liking the sound of the plan. 

If only Jayce had bothered to answer. 

——————

“Hi.” 

“Come on in.” Ekko stepped back, letting you into his dorm. 

“I know it’s so last minute, but I know nothing about angles …figured you could help.” 

“I absolutely can help and would love to.” 

You sat your stuff down, getting comfortable as you’d done dozens of times before. You turned a corner, washing your hands at the sink before heading to grab a throw blanket from Ekko's bed. 

He knew your habits, calling from the living room area. “I have the heated blanket out here, too, if you wanna use that one. Know you get cold.” 

You exited his room, wearing the slippers you left under his bed. “Once again, you are the best…because I am, in fact, freezing my ass off right now.” 

“Want something to drink?” 

“Always.” 

The two of you were so in sync—it had to be that way after Powder. It became worse when Vi blamed you, suspecting one of you said something to her to make her disappear. Even though you know you did nothing wrong, there was still a self-hate there. That you couldn’t be there for a friend who needed you—so much so that she left entirely. You couldn’t do that to Ekko, he felt the same. 

“So,” you pulled out the folder Jayce had given you, a slight frown on your face at the thought of him completely ignoring you. “I have this paper, its like a cheat sheet for vectors…but besides what Jayce told me I don’t know what to do. The TA said we also have to calculate the angles…that makes no sense.” 

Ekko grabbed his notebook, flipping to a blank sheet of paper. He sketched a makeshift drawing—surprisingly good for how quick he’d done it. You were always in awe of his artistic talent. 

“Okay, so here…is a light pole.” He moved his finger to the other side of the paper, motioning toward a little drawing of you, smiling on the sidewalk. “This is you.” 

“Wait I’m so adorable here!”

Ekko chuckled, side eyeing you a bit, “Yeah…” 

You snatched the pencil—quickly drawing in a stick figure of him. “This is you!” 

“Is it really? Couldn’t tell.” 

“Hey-“ You swatted his arm, “You’re identical in my opinion.” 

“If having lines for a body is identical…then sure. But anyways…not the point of my sketch.” He grabbed the pencil back, “Thank you very much.” He flipped the pencil, using the eraser side to show you the details. “Okay…light pole…you.” He smirked, knowing you wanted to interject. Ekko raised his hand before you could, “This is the distance between you and the pole.” He made up and wrote a random number in feet under the bottom, the same for the pole. “This is the height of the pole. This is all you need to find every angle and distance measurement.” 

The look on your face was one of pure confusion. “How does that make any sense whatsoever, Ekko?” You moved to close the book. “Actually, lets just watch a movie instead. I’m prepared to fail at this point.” 

Ekko grabbed the book from you, reopening it. “Well, I’m not, so let’s get to work.” 

He continued, explaining as best he could. It was no use, though, it just wasn’t making sense to you. You nodded, trying to get him to move on to something else. 

“Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” You reached to hug Ekko, “You’re the best.” Pulling back, you plastered on a smile, hiding the discomfort. You didn’t feel ready whatsoever. Suddenly, Ekko grabbed your hands, pulling your attention to him. 

“You’re gonna do great.” He lingered on you for a while, “Promise.” 

The doubt you felt made you want to hole up and skip class altogether. Eventually, it developed into a disdain for Jayce. When you thought about it, he was the reason you were going to fail…again. 

——————

You decided against skipping class on Monday, but you were definitely opting out of that damn tutoring session. If Jayce can’t answer a simple few texts, how were you to know you even had a standing appointment anymore. It made you feel less than worthy of a proper notice. Above all, it just felt plain unprofessional…he’s an employee after all. 

Walking into class and into this quiz felt like a walk to your execution. Midterms were quickly approaching, which meant you only had so many quizzes you could fail before the majority of your final grade was tainted by bad ones. 

Viktor greeted you as normal, moving over to give you a seat. “Are you prepared?”

“As best as I can be.” 

The beauty of college was that you did assessments in class and got the results as soon as you submitted. Knowing you would get your score back in the next few minutes had your stomach churning. An image of Jayce, carefree and nonchalant, popped into your head. Nothing was making sense. Reluctantly, you started choosing random answers—disregarding the calculator altogether. Before you knew it, your grade, a 56%, reflected back to you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You closed your laptop, getting up to leave class early. “I’ll see you later, Viktor.” 

Before he could reply, you were gone. Pushing through the door. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, texting Ekko. 

im done early, wanna meet rn?

He replied a few seconds later.

omw 

You picked up the pace, not out of urgency, but in pure frustration. Everything you’d been working towards wasn’t paying off. The time you spent not being with Ekko—with Jayce—was a waste. 

When you arrived to the dining hall, Ekko wasn’t there yet. You took the time to grab both you and him something to eat for lunch. Within minutes, Ekko showed up, that warm smile on his face as usual. He leaned into you, giving you a side hug while simultaneously grabbing the food from you. 

“How was the quiz?” You didnt reply, simply giving him a side eye. “Damn…I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault…but thanks for helping.” 

He’d seamlessly changed the subject—allowing the two of you to talk without the reminder of your failure that day. You didn’t acknowledge how fast the time had passed and truthfully, didn’t care. You hadn’t planned to show up to tutoring…much less give Jayce any notice. 

To your right, you suddenly heard a voice, interrupting you and Ekko. 

“Hey.” You looked over, seeing Jayce standing there. “I figured you’d be here.” He looks between you and Ekko, hands now on his hips. “You missed our session.” 

You raised a brow and crossed your arms over your chest. “Wow, really? Didn’t know we were still having those.” 

“Of course we are, you have those quizzes-“ 

“Had.” You interrupted, “There was one today. You’d know if you checked your phone.” 

He looked down, embarrassed at his phone sitting in his front pant pocket. 

“I’m sorry- I know this is important for you but something came up.” 

“What? What came up?” Ekko spoke up. 

Jayce turned to look at him, finally acknowledging his presence again. “Something personal,” he looked away, focusing back on you. “Can we talk alone?” 

Ekko spoke again, “Say what you need to say.” 

“I would, but I’m not talking to you.” 

A screech of Ekko’s chair resounded in the dining hall. You reached a hand out, gesturing toward them. “Ekko, please.” 

Ekko looked over to you and inhaled a deep breath. He was looking at Jayce again, but kept talking to you. “I’ll see you later, okay? Call if you need anything.” 

“Wait- Ekko-” 

Jayce gulped, sitting down across from you. You watched Ekko leave as Jayce took his seat, hands resting on the table. 

“What the hell is your problem? You ghost me then show up here with an attitude? I should be pissed…I am pissed! I failed because of you!” 

He nodded, knowing the weight of his being inaccessible. “I’m sorry.” 

“You said that.” 

“There was a personal thing, a family emergency-“

“And yet, your phone is still in working condition.”

You didn’t want to be insensitive, but it takes seconds to reply. A simple message would’ve sufficed. 

“My mom’s sick.” You froze—remembering that it’s just him and his mom. “She was in the hospital all weekend…it still hasn’t gotten better.” He paused, looking at you now, “I thought I owed you to at least show up today.” 

“Well…now I feel like shit.” 

“Don’t. Not your fault I didn’t tell you what was happening.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“Hope she gets better?” 

You reached over, placing a comforting hand on his, “I can do that.” 

He let you linger there, before pulling back. “How about this week, since I messed up so bad with scheduling…we meet as much as you’d like just so you can be ready. Shit, it can be every day if you want.” He nodded, “We’re gonna make sure you pass this class if it’s the last thing I do.” 

“Are you sure? I can be pretty high maintenance…” 

He leaned back in his chair, a nonchalant yet playful look on his face, “Not worried about it.” 

“Okay.” You shrugged, “If you say so.” 

The pair of you exchanged smiles, not at all prepared for how tumultuous this week would be. 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses

[pinazee]

Lassie did a bad bad thing

This is one of my favorite intros to the show! Theres such a great energy in the air right out of the gate that I’m instantly locked in. The storm, the lights flickering, the running background characters- it all has me hooked. Its nice to see the head detective being good at his job. It actually helps establish Shawn as a better detective too. If shawn continually did laps around the cops, then it diminishes his wins by comparison. Also, its nice to see lassie on his game in general. Sometimes we need a reminder why he made head detective in the first place. His character has the most subtle yet brilliant transformation on the show which i’ll go into later down the line.

Henry said nearly the exact same thing in the flash back of the 70’s ep. Lassie and henry have a lot in common so it’s interesting that when they get paired up they don’t get along. Henry is too overbearing for lassie to go fishing, and here, lassie loves being a cop too much for henry (though thats possibly the depression talking). Could be they are seeing parts of themselves they don’t like in each other, could just be a personality thing.

It’s also telling on lassies character that everyone is quick to believe he shot that guy (and gus probably still does like 15% haha). I think thats definitely a part of why hes so depressed in this ep. Lets face it, if Juliet had been in his place, not one person would have thought she did it (unless the plot asked for it i guess).

This is a slight tangent, but what do you mean “hes letting her drive” lassie?? Does drimmer outrank her somehow because thats the only possible excuse for that line 🤔

Damn this hit was good and a nice surprise! Though, what was drimmer thinking?? Was he taking the drugs the cinco reyes were selling? Like this a public area sir, the peanut vendor is right off screen! Plus he knows people are waiting for him in the office like 13 feet away???

And this is such a dumb criticism, so just know that I’m aware of that, but I’m so distracted in this ep by how much i hate this chocolate mint striped polo shirt

And i hate to do this, but it bothered me then and it bothers me now… the blocking of this scene was kind of clunky. Like, have lassie rotating around slowly to get to his hidden gun while drimmer/ shawn did the wrap up instead of having our bad guy tell him “hey stop that!” Like he was chastising a toddler. It kind of fumbled the pacing/ tension IMO.

But damn lassie is cool here

Lastly, THE JACKAL SWITCH! HE HIT THE JACKAL SWITCH!!! I love anytime the script is flipped and shawn is mildly irritated by some bit gus is doing. Bffs, love them.

P.S this is one of favorites puns they’ve done, if that tells you anything about my style of humor

[astronova-00]

Happy Birthday Sev!! Hope y'all will take this oneshot of an au that I plan for the future (my friend kinda cried...)

“What is that?” That being the subject of the kids’ attention. They were so focused on the vial that they didn’t notice someone walking in with a gaunt look on their face. Although they could sense the shift of change in the atmosphere. 

However, back onto the matter on hand…the kids couldn’t take their eyes off the vial. It seemed to give off a strange glow when Harry played around with it in his hands. As he did this, he caught the attention of the shadow in the background, who then made himself known, “What are you doing with that?” His voice came out strained and sounded more like nails scraping down the front of a chalkboard than the intimidation he wanted. 

Harry, and Ron jumped at the voice while Hermione had the decency to look guilty. “Hello Professor!” She happily replied while arming the other two to say something along the lines of that. They just mumbled nonsense under their voices. “How are you?”

“Enough chatter, I asked a question.” Severus’ tone suggested that he didn’t have time for games, and when Hermione got a good look at him, she could tell why. Dark circles creeped under his eyes and it seemed like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hair looked dishevelled and even more greasy (as if that was possible). The professor looked as if his whole world was turned upside down. Although Hermione didn’t have the time to ponder on it any longer when Sirius bursted into the room, laughing along with Professor Lupin. 

“Oi! Whatcha doing here, Snivellous?” Sirius accusingly asked as he swung his arm around Remus’ shoulder to keep him balanced. The trace of alcohol was evident on his breath. Severus froze, not at the sight of his old bully-no he got quite good at not reacting to him-but instead at the smell. Flashes floated his head all at once and yet it was all a blur. The familiar bottle was seen in each flash with the smell of cheap whiskey lingering on. Same one that Sirius had now harboured. 

Severus was not in the mood for whatever childish games they would usually put up with. His eyes snapped down to Harry’s hand, and a twitch of emotion ran across his face. To tell which one would be hard to say. Ignoring everyone’s curious looks, Severus inched closer to Harry, and snatched the vial out of his hand. “Do not touch what is not yours.” He hissed with a vein popping from his forehead. 

Harry looked back at his professor with glowing hatred in his eyes, matching the vial in Severus’ closed fist. Ron hid behind Hermione with a sheepish face and apologetically smiled.  

Severus curses himself for being too distracted in his thoughts to not have seen the latter coming. Of course when there are so many changes that seem to have forced their way into your life, you don’t bother to acknowledge them until it’s too late. Sirius thrashed his way out of Remus’ arms (despite the other pulling him back) and headed straight for Severus but missed and landed on Harry. Who caught him right away and decided to lay him on the couch in the room they were in. 

Words flew around as the four of them gathered around Sirius and asked if he was alright. Severus couldn’t give a rat’s arse about him. He got what he came for and now he can leave before Dumbledore finds him with the leftover order members. That old man did not know what privacy meant when it came to over people. Severus left the fools in the room without making a sound (which he was very proud of) and wandered down one of the many halls in the manor.

A familiar pain struck through him. The very same one that has been clinging onto him, one that he cannot shake. It’s beautifully poetic in a sense. Warm hands always touch him but never there and they will never touch again. His ears ring with the soft whisper of their nights and the laughter of their youth. How they managed a lifetime together in so little time will always boggle Severus. He remembers everything and even when he tries not to, it sneaks up on him. Memories torn apart to showcase the struggle and how far they’ve gotten. Not far enough. It was never enough. All that pain and effort just for Severus to be left with a singular tag with his name on it. He finally understood the sorrow and grief when it came to these things. Pulled from his thoughts, Severus sees Dumbeldore from the corner of his eye. 

Albus clapped the other gentlemen’s hand and smiled. They seemed to be in a friendly conversation, so Severus decided to sit down at the long dining table that they’ve used for meetings. Severus had no doubts that he was going to get reprimanded for not showing up for the meeting tonight, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. There’s been a lot more of that recently. The urgency to fix all the wrongs he’s committed, seemed like an utter waste. What was the point? He found himself asking more often. What will he get out of all this?

As he sat down, Molly smiled at him and passed him a cup of coffee. Just like he likes it. She took it upon herself to get his preferences written down. Two sugars and one milk. Many guessed he liked it black but that’s what he loved. Severus’ shaky hands wrapped around the warm mug and the steam blinded him for a second as he brought it up to his lips. His eyebrows finally relaxed as he took his first sip and nodded at Molly who looked like a kid on Christmas. “Oh Severus! Let me get you something to eat with your coffee!” Before he could protest, she went straight into the kitchen and came out with a plate of whatever she had made. He looked at the plate and felt his stomach flip. He slipped his hand into his pocket where the vial was and moved it between his fingers. Thankfully those kids were dunderheads and didn’t realise what was inside. 

From the moment Severus walked in, Minerva did not take her eyes off him. Looking at him like there is something else to see. Peeling apart his carefully crafted facade and clawing deeper into him. His eyes floated to the wallpaper behind her and turned his mind off. Blank. Whispers of the past circling in a loop. He’s never felt more isolated, never more detached. It’s cold and empty inside…a feeling that has never quite left him. It’s a sad reminder that he is destined to always lose, no matter how far he gets. The clock was ticking and yet he was the one counting down the seconds. 

Albus Dumbledore was a man who was always able to command a room. Even if you didn’t know him personally or even like him, you respected him. While it be his morals or his powers, there was that common goal of respect that you’ve held for him. Severus was able to fall into that trap as well. Hook. Line. And Sinker. The old bastard managed to get the straggling members to head to the table and locked eyes with Severus. It was a gaze that meant there was something to be discussed in front of everyone with no escape nor time to come up with excuses. Severus clutched the vial tighter. 

“If I may,” Albus started off, gaining the other’s attention with his eyes still trained on Severus, “It has come to my attention that we have one last thing to discuss.” Leave it to him to have that cryptic sentence. 

Tonks had a keen eye for evidence, hence why she made a good auror, but her hair changed from her normal bubblegum pink to a navy blue, expressing her confusion. Her boss sat beside her with a protective look and then Alastor sat at the corner, nursing his flask. “Oi, spit it out already, why don’t ya!” Alastor muttered with a roll of his eye, and the other went haywire. “Some of us got places to be!”

Tonks let out a laugh and her face changed into a snout while her hair switched to a lighter blue and then rested back to her normal look. Kingsley covered his mouth ‘effectively’ with his mug of tea that Molly kindly brought over. Arthur helped her back, supporting the tray with the other mismatched mugs and teacups of hot water. Severus was the only one with taste (and strength) to handle coffee. The rest of the weaklings had their tea, while Albus decided to continue with his announcement when Sirius, Remus, and the kids walked in. Sirius had a drunken smirk plastered on. 

“As I was saying, Sirius has let me know that Severus has not shared all that he has learned within the few weeks that he has been gone. It seems that he is holding a vial that contains memories during the first war that will be crucial for the upcoming.” Severus’ eyes widened at this and slowly shifted his eyes to look at Sirius, who was already staring at him…as were everyone else. 

The thought of everyone’s eyes on him made him feel dirty. Like he had to scratch at himself until the hyponychium turned red. Goosebumps started to form over him, when he noticed that they were all looking for an answer. Sirius Black looked like he won the fucking lottery. Mouth wide open with his perfect pearly whites and even with the decay of twelve years in prison, his face looked even better. Severus parted his lips and silently cleared his throat and shifted his attention from Sirius to the whole room. “I-....I do not know what you are talking about.” He dismissed. 

However, since God was out to get him, he made Ronald Weasley pay attention to a conversation that was not quidditch related and decide to speak against his professor. There were only twelve people in the room and yet Severus felt as if he was on a stage giving a lecture. “Yeah you do! You literally yelled at us to give it back to you.” The ginger boy annoyingly added while Albus nodded his head. 

Severus glared at the boy and cleared his throat, “It has nothing to do with the order.” His words slowly pushed through his teeth and he took another sip from his coffee, using his free hand. 

Sirius barked a laugh and threw his head back, “You hear that, Moony? Seems like our little Snivvy got his own life that we weren’t aware of!” Remus looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. 

Severus was trapped, he couldn’t move. Everything he did was on a loop and his words were like someone else had written them for him. The muffled voices of everyone was coming back clearer into his hearing when suddenly the vial, he was clutching to like a lifeline, was being levitated out of his pocket. He couldn’t move, frozen in another thing that he didn’t have control over. 

“Severus.” Albus’ voice was a dangerous whisper, “Why do you have a pensieve on you?” 

The other’s face still remained calm, cool, and collected. He didn’t give any indication that he was affected by being called out. There were many times where Severus wished he stayed home from an order meeting and this is one time he greeted that he went. Everyone’s eyes varied from looking at him with curiosity or at the vial Albus was holding. “I am not withholding any information relevant to the war.” 

“But you are withholding something.” Albus pushed. 

“Am I not allowed my secrets?”

“Not if they are causing you to slip.” Severus opened his mouth to protest but Albus held up his hand, “Do not think that I have not noticed for the last few weeks, you have become sloppy. You have been giving quick, brief responses. Leaving just as soon as you’ve come in. I decided not to bring it up until someone else noticed and chose to do so with the company of trusted members.” 

Severus rolled his eyes at Albus' abrasive speech. “The vial contains muggle affairs…none of the sort that a respectable wizard would trouble themselves with.” However, this just gained the interest of Hermione and Arthur. “Severus! You know about those wonderful muggle devices? I would love to come together with you on that. I simply cannot get enough of the simplicity of the whole concept.” 

Severus gave the man a tight smile, “If I have the time.” A promise that would never be fulfilled, if Severus had anything to do with it. “However, if you would like to ask Miss Granger for assistance. As I recall she is a muggleborn.” 

“Oh yes! Mr Weasley, I would love to answer any questions you have!” The two broke off into a small conversation on the side as their voices faded in Severus’ head. His eyes drifted back to Albus who was asking Sirius for something. He couldn’t hear anything other than the beating of his own heart along with everyone else's’. The soothing rhythm from the others calmed his nerves. He could feel a bead of sweat on the side of his head, slowly rolling down. Once again, he snapped back into reality when Sirius came back with a wobble in his walk, and the bowl meant for the pensieve.  

“Either you agree to allow us to see whatever you are hiding from the order in this or we will force you too.” Albus’ cold decision came as a shock to both him and Minerva. 

“Albus! Surely the boy is allowed his privacy as does anyone else in this!” Minerva shouted as she stood up in her seat to make her point. 

“I have to think of the order and cannot allow my feelings to be involved with this matter. If the order does not feel safe-...”

“That is bullshit and you know it. Does Severus not matter in this situation? How dare you choose someone else over him, once again?” Minerva could have stopped and let Albus bash him but she didn’t. She has had enough, a little too late but Severus is not complaining…just tired of it all. 

“Minerva.” His voice heavy, “I’ll just get it over with. If being able to see that I am one capable of emotions is what these people who don’t know me need, then so be it.” Minerva saw his resigned sigh and sat back down with a look of pity towards him. He resisted the urge to glare at her. He did not need nor want pity for anything. Severus got up from his seat, carefully making sure his coffee wouldn’t spill and took the fogged up vial from his pocket of his trousers. He placed it in front of Albus at the head of the table. 

Albus had a troubled look in his eyes but his pride for the greater good overcame that. His hand slowly took the vial and uncorked it. “If everyone could gather around me.” Tonks, Kingsley, Molly, Alastor, Arthur, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Minerva, Sirius, and Remus cramped together around the old wizard. They all had different looks in their eyes that Severus couldn’t quite pinpoint due to him not really giving a fuck. 

“If I could do the honours, Black.” It wasn’t a question as Severus took the uncorked vial from Albus and poured it into the pensieve that Sirius was placing down. Sirius didn’t have time to react as they were being pulled into the memories of Severus Snape. 

Old polka dotted wallpaper that seemed like it was there forever. Everything was a faded pink in the bedroom and there sat two teenagers looking into a mirror and one on the bed. “I still think Sev could rock the look.” Said the dark brunette girl with hazel eyes. She was wrapped in a strawberry shortcake blanket and wearing a pair of jorts with beat up converses. 

“You’d think anyone could ‘rock a look’ as long as they got black hair.” A younger looking Severus deadpanned (with a heavy northern accent) as he stretched across the pink frilly bed sheets. His faded ‘Black Sabbath’ lifted up from his stomach and showed his happy trail and his jeans sagging. His docs were discarded on the floor and his bare feet were stretched out around the bed as well. 

“That’s Professor Snape?” Harry muttered to Ron, with a hint of flirtation in his voice. Hermione blushed and tore her glaze from the scene playing in front of her. “Can’t possibly understand why someone would call him ugly.” Hermione muttered softly as her blush stained her face. 

Ron looked at the two with disgust, “Lay off it.” 

“Am I wrong? Also pass me my bra.” The brunette asked with a hand outstretched towards Severus without looking behind her. The third teenager, the one beside her, passed the black bra from Severus to her. “Thanks.” She said as she uncovered herself and let her breasts fall down. 

The group looked around the memory and instantly covered the three kids’ eyes with looks at Severus. However he had a soft smile on his face and couldn’t take his eyes off the scene playing in front of them. “What the fuck is this Snivellous?” Sirius yelled out as his drunken state was sobered quickly when Albus had called them over. Must have taken a potion when he went to get the pensieve. “It’s my childhood.” 

The memory continued on. 

“Eden, I would love it if you didn’t flash our poor boys in my house. We are only fifteen.” A younger Lily Potter neé Evans walked into the open doorway with a six pack of cheap beer in her hand and a lighter in her other. Eden laughed as she coughed into her elbow. 

Hearing her voice snapped Sirius, Remus, and Harry up to look up to her with slight tears. 

“Only fifteen she says as she brings in alcohol and a lighter for underage smoking and drinking.” The darker teen who had dreadlocks and was lying on Eden's back. He had black jeans with an ‘AC/DC’ shirt on, and beat up converses as well. His ear was surprisingly pierced, which dangled a flat, black lighting bolt. “And here I thought our little Miss Princess Perfect was the good one.” He earned a laugh from Eden and Severus.  His twist of words also earned Lily giving him the bird. 

“My mother smoked and drank?” Harry exclaimed as he locked eyes with the memory of Lily Evans. Severus silently answered his question with a nod of his head. 

“Shut the fuck up Daniel before I kick you out. My house, my rules.” Lily stuck her tongue out as she placed the beer next to Eden and flopped on the bed next to Severus. “Move over.” 

“Looks like someone got broken up with.” Eden said as she pushed Daniel over of her and propped up on the inside of her hands with her stomach on the rug. “Tell us what happened, we know you wanna.” She said with a roll of her eyes as she popped open a can of beer and passed one to Daniel who did the same for Severus. 

Tonks and Kingsley raised eyebrows at each other before facing Severus with a look of curiosity. Neither had the guts to speak up until Alastor did. “Albus I don’t know much about you but all I see is a bunch of kids from the past. Ain’t nothing here that wicked boy is hiding.” Sirius flashed his eyes to his former boss and widened his eyes. Within all the years of working for him, he'd seen Moody a compliment. Hence why they also called him Mad-Eye. Sirius snapped back to Remus when he started to whisper something. 

“She looks young.” The words echoed around the empty space where the next memory seemed to be setting up for, Harry inched past his friends and closer to his godfathers. Sirius swung his arm over his boyfriend and looked at Harry with pained eyes and a weak smile. “I didn’t even think that Lily would be in these…”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She was my best friend.” Severus responded as he walked into the house, motioning for the others to follow him. “We should be in here.” He muttered as he opened the door. 

“How is it that you remember these? That isn’t possible.” Albus asked as he followed Severus. 

“It’s impossible to forget.” Severus whispered, before coming to a stop. 

The others filed in and the famous Golden Trio looked at one another for the first time in minutes. Neither one had to say anything to already know what they were going to say. Minerva walked behind them and had a wry smile on her face, and ushered them inside the room. 

The room was the same before but it was obviously a different day. Outside the small window, it was murky and a tough tree branch was racking against it. The rain, pouring harder than before. The four teenagers were still in the room except now they were wearing pyjamas. Lily and Eden had a similar set of silk camisoles with the matching shorts. But Lily’s were a groovy forest green with a touch of brown and dark red mixed in, while Eden’s were a simple blood red with a little lace bow. Severus and Daniel were wearing white wife beaters and black gingham patterned pants. Severus and Daniel shared the bed while Lily was helping Eden blow up the air mattress. 

“Thanks for letting us crash for a couple nights.” Eden thanked in between gasps, trying to regain as much air as possible. 

“I said anything and I mean it. It would be pretty horrible if I let you back at Sev’s while Tobias is there. Besides, think of this as our redo sleepover.” Lily smiled as held onto the almost full mattress. 

“How so?” Daniel asked as he opened a bag of crisps and started to shovel them into his mouth and hand some to Severus. 

Severus watched closer on how his past self and Daniel interacted. He seemed to be taking everything in, not letting him wander until they captured everything. Severus found himself sitting on the bed and staring at Daniel with a face of woe. Severus closed his eyes and let the conversation that he knew all too well flow around him.

“Lils, Jacob was a jerk and you knew that. Besides just last week, you were saying how you wanted a little fun and nothing serious. Why is he bothering you so much? He’s your average brown eyed desi. I mean sure your parents are just bigoted in general, but that’s just cokeworth’s edgy charm.” Eden complained as she couldn’t see the reason why her close friend was acting like this. 

“It’s because she has a crush on James Potter.” 

The room went silent and Lily went red and joined Eden with putting on the bed sheets for the two of them. 

Severus looked at the others to see them truly paying attention as to what was happening. It was like his life story was becoming more of a soap opera than anything else. His eyes lingered on the Potter spawn and for a moment, just a moment. He felt a wave of protection surge through him for the boy. 

“S-Sev, come on. You know I would never betray you like that.” Her perfect English accent, coming out stronger than ever. As if it was a reminder of where they really were. 

“What am I to say? It’s not as if he is unattractive. I cannot blame you.” Severus forced the words from his mouth as they sounded more posh than before. “However he’s a little bastard who thinks his daddy’s money will get him anywhere in life.” The black haired boy sneered, as he shoved the salty crisp into his mouth.

“James wasn’t the bastard, you were Snivvy!” Sirius argued as Harry paid no mind to him. 

“Yes but he has stopped those silly pranks that Sirus and him pulled on you.” Lily tried. 

“Oh yes, because that makes everything much better. Only bullied me for five years, ‘but now I want to get into someone’s pants so I must look like I can do good.’ Sounds like he really cares for you Lily.” Severus snarked back as he faced his back away from her. Lily huffed and layed down on the pillow and covered herself up with the blanket. “Fine.”

“Fine.” 

Awkward silence once again until Eden decided to break it up, “What do you call a pig that practises karate?

This time Daniel couldn’t hold his groan, “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Bitch I asked you a question.” Eden repeated with a threat. 

“What do you call it?” Daniel answered with his voice three octaves higher. 

“A pork chop.” Eden deadpanned before she started giggling at her own stupid joke. 

“That wasn’t funny.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “So just like you then?” Eden replied. 

“Because I am an excellent boyfriend, it is practically my job to be funny. Someone has to be.” Daniel yelped as Severus punched his stomach from not moving his face from the wall. 

“Well a good boyfriend should be like that regardless.” 

“Ay! Sev tell ‘em I’m a good boyfriend.” Daniel whined as he sent air kisses to him. 

“You’re alright, I suppose.” Severus shrugged as he wrapped his legs along Daniel. “Fuck you.” Daniel replied as he snuggled into Severus.

 The four of them laughed. The argument was long forgotten but never gone. It was just shoved underneath everything where later it could explode back into their faces. Severus waved a dragon heartstring wand over them and the lights turned off. The comfort of the rain falling casted them to sleep. The girls cuddled with one another and shared the heavier blanket. While the boys’ limbs were tangled in the early stages of slumber. 

The others thought that a new memory was going to flash by but they stayed there in the quiet room. It wasn’t until movement from the two boys that the order turned their attention back to it. 

Severus turned on his left side to face Daniel who was doing a poor job of sleeping, “Wake up, lover boy.” 

Daniel groaned and shoved his hands in Severus’ face. “Shut the fuck up! That was one time.” 

“But I can be your lover boy.” Severus continued on in a sing-song voice. “SEVERUS!” Daniel shoved his face into the other boy’s chest with his face turning a deep purple. “Promise me that you’ll write until I come back for Christmas?” Severus whispered in their bubble of peacefulness. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. We aren’t a quick fuck.” Daniel reminded him as he lifted his chin and signalled for a kiss. Severus leaned down and met his lips there. They shared a passionate kiss and then Severus dragged Daniel into a cuddle. “I love you.” 

Severus wiped a tear that escaped from his eye and got off from the bed. He walked down the room as the others watched him. 

“Who would have thought Sniv had a boyfriend?” Sirius asked no one in particular. 

“Did my mom always curse like that?” Harry’s words left his lips before he could process the scene between Severus and this so-called Daniel. He was having trouble wanting to leave the pensieve or have the rare opportunity to stay and hopefully see more memories of his mother. Perhaps getting to know Professor Snape better too. Then again, Harry and his friends were fifteen and had never even touched drugs or alcohol, so clearly there were a few things to discover. 

“Severus.” Minerva’s hitched voice told him what he needed to know. “Yes, he is.” The clipped answer let the silent conversation between the two of them come to a rest. Minerva lowered her eyes and mumbled something under her breath that not even Albus could pick up. 

“What…what exactly are we going to see here? Obviously it is your childhood, but are you sure it’s even morally right for us to see?” Hermione spoke slowly, trying to make sense of what she just processed. Ron looked at her like she had a second head, the two boys agreed with one another that they wouldn’t be talking. It was too raw for them to even voice their opinions about their most hated Professor, and they wanted to keep it that way. 

“Miss Granger. Obviously,” Severus drew out his word like he had done in their previous year of Hogwarts. “The moral rights of someone disappear as soon as they join a cult or a group trying to defeat said cult.” His face twitched in a minor annoyance and led the others out of the room and there they were in some sort of park. 

The grass swayed around Severus and Daniel, who were lying with their heads touching and faced up to the sky. “I want to kill myself.”

“I know.” 

It faded back and suddenly the group was in another memory. 

The room had the cigarette smoke stained wallpaper peeling off so badly, you could see the original drywall and plaster. There was an old wooden table in the middle of the kitchen with a beat up refrigerator and a barely working stove. They had to flick a match underneath it for it to work properly. A handed down rug covered the splintered floors, not that the rug mattered. Everyone wore their shoes inside the house regardless. A familiar looking Eden, though looking much older and had an IV attached to her, was cursing at the stove and finally managed to catch a flame.“Eggs?”She asked in a way that wasn’t really asking. 

An older looking Daniel walked through and smiled at her while raising up two fingers. She nodded and cracked a few eggs into the pan and watched them fry. She peeled off the plastic from the fresh bacon she bought the night before. Once the eggs were done she flipped them, “Danny, mind watching the food? I’mma go talk to Sev and see if he gonna get out of his shell.” 

“I hope you have better luck than I did. I’m lucky I got out there with both of my shoes.” Daniel laughed but his face showed a different picture. 

Eden walked out the doorway of the kitchen and climbed up the old stairs while skipping a few of them and dragged her machine up the stairs. She shuffled her hands against each other and then closed her hand into a fist and raised it to knock on the door. “Sev, open the door.” 

“Leave me alone Eden.” His muffled voice came out through the tattered door. “I have nothing to say.”

“Maybe but you got to listen to me.” Eden slid against the door and brought her knees to her chest. She took a second to get her thoughts and breaths together. Everything was different and everything was going to change. “Sevvy, you gotta listen to me real close. ‘Cause I’m only gonna say this once.” She waited until she heard a sudden movement from the other side before continuing. “The fact that you are feeling guilty about whatever the fuck happened during school proves you better than whatever that bitch said.” 

“She is not a-” 

“I’m not done and yes she was. Just because we hung out together doesn’t mean that she’d really give Danny or I the time of day. Besides you see the looks she gives the two of you.” 

“It’s not her fault. That’s just how she was raised.” 

“Yeah, well you were raised to be a bastard but now you only act like one.” Eden knew that she was able to get a laugh from Severus when he went quiet. “Don’t push Danny out. I ain’t gonna be here any longer and I need to know my boys can do good without me.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“You know it’s true. Live on for me and take care of him.” Eden’s voice wandered around Severus’ head. 

The memory closed and the group was left in the dark while Severus was left staring in front of him. 

“When was that, sir?” Hermione’s weak voice spoke up as she fidgeted with her fingers. 

“1975, the same year as the last memory. Although that was during the summer after my fifth year.” 

Hermione hummed and dared to look Severus in the eyes. “Is that when you called Lily Potter a Mudblood?” There was no flinch in her tone of words nor did she let herself waver. 

Severus didn’t turn to her, “Yes.” 

Remus looked more meek and into himself which startled Seveus but paid no mind as his eyes wandered off to Sirius. His face was cold and stoic but his eyes always told a different story. There was a real rage that Severus hadn’t seen in years but there was also a sense of guilt and defeat. A sadness gleamed to them that made Severus’ stomach turn. He did not ever want to be put into the position of ever feeling sorry for one of the guys’ that made his life a living hell. However he knew how Lily left an impact on all of them and him calling her that disgusting, vile name was the cherry on top for the behaviour. 

Harry looked between the three adults but his face surprisingly didn’t give away anything. He saw the memory a few months ago of how his father and godfather hung Professor Snape underside down and was laughing like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing, it was sexual assault and no one batted an eye at that. Not even his own mother who had laughed at her best friend before he called her that disgusting, vile word. 

An owl’s hoot interrupted Harry’s thoughts as he faced in front of him. 

“Oi Sev! A birdie’s here for ya!” Daniel’s deeper voice rang out as he cleared the cluttered table away from the old bills and paperwork. They were sitting in the kitchen of Severus’ house and the light above them was turned off. The sun peeking from the old, ratty curtains lit the overview of the table. 

“Alright I’m coming.” Severus shouted back from somewhere else in the house. 

“Y’a I know you were...” Daniel laughed to himself as he lit his fag and took a puff. 

Severus ran down the stairs with his hair half dried and his shirt backwards. “You fucker, I thought someone was here. I could have put my shirt on properly.” 

“Next time don’t let me fuck you in the middle of the day.” Daniel smugly said as he let out a cloud of smoke in Severus’ face. 

Ron pulled a face and Molly and Arthur looked at Severus closely. “How come you don’t curse nowadays, Sir?” Tonks asked as her hair turned shorter and pointy. 

“I have to keep up the facade.” Severus simply answered. 

“Get that out of here.” Severus whisked his hand back and forth before he took a seat next to Daniel. “At least smoke the good one.” 

“Shut up.” 

Severus laughed and turned his attention to the owl and used his wand to take the letter attached to her off. He unscrolled the letter and rolled his eyes fondly when he saw the Malfoy crest at the bottom. The wax looked fresh, meaning whatever was in this letter was urgent. 

No one but Daniel and Severus knew what was in the letter and Hermione looked disappointed that she couldn’t read it. Albus had a distance, nostalgic look in his eyes as he turned to Severus, who was watching the scene unfold in front of him. 

Severus’ eyes widened and he turned to his boyfriend, “Dan.” Severus passed the letter to him and watched the cigarette fall out his mouth. “Sevvy.” Daniel took a deep breath and looked at him, “Whatchu gonna do?” 

“I need the money…besides it would just be a few higher end potions, ain’t like it's hard.” Severus lowered his voice and his head on the table while Daniel wandlessly and wordlessly summoned a pen for his boyfriend. “Take it and then cut it off. Yer Da fucked you up with that thing that happened last year and you don’t need more stress. I’m takin’ a couple of more shifts from the store, so you can have the house all day for them potions. Understand?” Daniel listed off as he handed the pen off to Severus. 

The other looked at Daniel with disbelief, “Dan, I can’t ask you of that.” 

“Good thing you ain’t.” Daniel stood up from his seat and pressed a kiss on Severus’ slightly sweaty head and wandered off, leaving Severus with the decision. 

Not thinking too hard, Severus let out a sigh of breath and wrote a brief letter back. Saying how he appreciated the opportunity and wanted to start as soon as possible. He needed to make it up for Eden, he promised her. 

“You were forced?” Sirius couldn’t stop the words from coming out his mouth and felt very conflicted. 

“Not at first.” Severus replied, leaving no room for questions. He knew after the last few memories he would have to explain everything. 

Flashes of the past formed in front of them, ranging from young Severus and Lily hanging in an old looking park or a younger Eden giving Daniel and Severus a thumbs up as she walked into the office in the fancy hospital. Scenes of Severus playing piano and singing in a club, wearing eyeliner or punk clothes played. Secret dates between Severus and Daniel, them swimming in the river or running away from an older man who looked to be Severus’ father. Lazy mornings of Seveus and Daniel in post bliss while naked. The two making out in some alleyway. Singing on the streets while carrying half-filled bottles of cheap whiskey.  Severus cries over the corpse of his mother, switching straight to a jail cell and then another funeral with the blurry name of Eden Wilderberry. However, after laughter and melancholy switched and overlapped each other, the headache from everyone came to a stop when they stood in Severus' childhood home. This time Severus looked just as he did now, perhaps a few years younger. 

The broken doorbell gave a pathetic ring before it fuzzed out. Severus, who was washing the dishes-muggle style, flicked his wand up his sleeve and headed for the door. He opened it after looking through the peephole and seeing someone wearing a full black suit with badges pinned to their left hand breast pocket. Dread creeped onto every bone in Severus’ body and he went weak in the knees. He knew that three weeks without hearing from Daniel was strange but thought nothing of it. He plastered a fake smile and opened the door, “How can I help you?” Thankfully he was wearing the only pair of muggle clothes that didn’t have holes in it. Force of habit. 

“Are you Mr. Swan? Daniel Thomas Swan’s brother?” The man asked in a posh voice as he held his composure. 

Severus blinked before nodding his head, “Yes I am.” He’s sure that Daniel spelled someone to not question the fact that Severus was pale as snow while Daniel was dark chocolate.  However his thoughts feld when he noticed a few more in full uniform soldiers coming out of a limousine. They had the Great Britain flag folded up and a blank face. “Why?” That one word tore his life apart especially with how choked up he got. “What’s happening?” And yet he was fully aware, hence why his guard was done and tears were threatening to fall. 

“No..” Molly gasped as she put her hands over her mouth and looked to Severus with tears. 

“Mr. Swan, I apologise.” The soldier bowed his head and continued on, “Your brother was a great man and an even better soldier. He led his squadron through an airstrike mission and they got striked down. He left a letter, we will be back in two weeks with all his personal belongings and all finances set for the funeral. Many blessings and may God watch over you.” The soldier handed off the letter as the others made their way to the door and gave him the flag and saluted him. One by one, they marched off into the limo and drove away.  

Severus numbly closed the door and fell to his knees. His eyes became clouded with tears and he couldn’t think straight, not anymore. He was wishing this was a joke. For once in his life he wished this was a cruel joke they were playing on him. He couldn’t let out any sound but he pushed his head to the dirty floor and rocked back and front clutching the letter in his hands, the flag discarded somewhere else. He was shaking and couldn’t stop, the pain he knew wouldn’t stop. A raw scream ripped from his throat and the tears couldn’t stop. It was too excruciating. 

A gasp brought the teary eyes off the scene in front of them and forced them to face Severus. Minerva pulled him into a hug where he let his hair cover his face and the others turned their eyes back to the scene. Albus looked on with no expression. 

Severus slowly turned on his back with his face looking horrible, snot and tears covered his face and he turned to the letter in his hand. He brought it up to his face and slowly unpeeled it and unfolded it. 

Suddenly the memory changed the point of view and they were able to read the letter that Daniel left to Severus. 

Sevvy, 

I’d think you would be proud that I am able to write correctly instead of how I sound with my accent. No one appreciates the northern culture in these posh parts. The Slavics are getting crazy and on the news with those basketball players in the states and their scandal is not helping. The air feels nice but I cannot wait until you are in my arms again or my cock is buried in your arse. Sorry, it seems that I am getting off track. I want you to know that I love you more than there are stars in the sky, more than the fags that I smoke, more than my whole entire existence. However, writing this with the intention that you are reading this, brings a pain to myself that I haven’t felt in over thirty years. You came into my life and nothing has ever been the same for the better. Through the deaths, trauma, torture, failed therapy sessions, and mini music careers, we have shared…I would never choose differently. I will always choose you like you have always chosen me. I could write a whole novel, a whole series about you that will never end. but I want to keep this short and small. (I will send you the journals I’ve kept over here) Remember the promise the three of us made when we were just five years old? We cannot leave without a bang? I have done more with you than I ever thought was possible. You truly brought the light back into my life (not just because you are white) and I could never repay you for this. Promise me Sevvy, that you will not give up. Fight until the end and make sure you kill that Voldemort bastard for me? Just a little..or a lot. I’m in the air force now Sev, I can authorise this type of shit. I love you forever and always. 

Yours truly, 

Daniel T. Swan 

Severus blinked and lifted his head from Minerva and suddenly everything went black. The group found themselves back in the dining room in Grimmauld Place. Molly looked towards her grandfather clock with the enchantments built in and noticed it was almost three in the morning. “Severus.” Her silent apology was appreciated as she looked at him with Arthur behind. “I will see you all at the next meeting, the children must be heading to bed.” It was a weak excuse but Severus was grateful for it. 

“Ah yes Molly. Please forgive me.” Albus turned on his grandfather's tone and bid them a good evening as they walked out the room and headed upstairs to their rooms. Soon enough, everyone made their own excuses to leave Albus and Severus alone. Sirius couldn’t have waited any longer before he fled with Remus giving Severus a sad smile and headed along with the other. Minerva pressed a kiss on Severus’ cheek and wished him ‘a good night’ as well while she glared at Albus. Then it was two. 

“Take a seat, my boy.” Albus’ voice travelled from one ear to the other as he took a seat at the head of the table. 

“I would rather stand. Actually, I would rather ask you. What the fuck do you think that you are so much as intitled to? You ask me to spy on you? Fine, I did it with no issues. But asking me to completely expose myself in front of these people? I’ve never wanted anyone to ever know about Daniel, and now what happens if any of them gets captured? The Dark Lord would violate their minds and then everything you’ve built for is gone because he’ll know that I have a weakness and will kill me. And then Lily’s son will be doomed because I just fuck everything up!” Albus watched as Severus ranted as he stroked his beard and his thoughts wandered. 

There was no doubt this was true, however Albus couldn’t find it in him to care. “I care for you, Severus. You know that I have for these last couple of years. However I wanted you to be free of all troubles that you’ve kept for yourself. I know that it isn’t easy losing someone that you’ve loved-”

“Love. I still love him and that will never stop.” Severus interrupted as he took a seat next to Albus and played with a necklace underneath the layers of robes he wore. Severus didn’t want to hear the old man’s excuses or pity. “Did you know that we were supposed to be married that year?” Of course he wouldn’t have known but what else could Severus say. 

“We were going to be married and I found out that he was killed on July 7th of 1992.” Severus got up and headed to leave, “Today was the third anniversary since his death and you have stolen any fond memories that I could have of him.” 

Silence accompanied Albus as Severus left with his grief and pain. Something in today had broken between the two of them and it wouldn’t be until a few years down the line that Albus realised what. 

[burningcomputerpersona]

ahhhhhhhh guess who made the mistake of getting a haircut

[laugtherhyena]

Feeling kinda tired/lacking motivation lately