#emma x sister!reader

[xiefuyu]

Brother, I'm here.

-- Kurokawa Izana x little sister reader

🖤 — Tokyo Revengers

📝 — angst, implication of domestic abuse, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff at the end

:a/n — this one is a bit heavy :'> (wc: 2.4k)

— PT. 1 / PT. 2/PT.3/PT.4/PT.5

You, Kurokawa Y/N, only wanted only one thing.

A family.

A household with the said family who’s loving and will treat you with care and affection. A family who won’t paint your skin blue and purple at any given chance and will protect you from all the things that you find to be scary.

That was the only thing you want but apparently, you’re considered greedy by the world for longing for something that’s supposed to be given to anyone the moment they were born.

Something was wrong with you.

Something has got to be deeply wrong with you because if not, why else would you be standing outside the hospital where you just got discharged a few minutes ago and currently drowning the moment your Kuya Mikey fills you in with what happened and the truth?

The fucking truth of not being related to them at all.

Your Kuya Mikey- are you even allowed to still call him that?- who you see walking towards you, panic in his eyes because you're walking backwards, walking away from them as if walking away from the truth.

He was saying something. Emma was saying something, also reaching out for you. Hell, even Takemichi was saying something but you’re drowning, you’re falling, and you’re…

You’re just there.

Alone.

A part of you begs to listen to them, to run to them, to beg for them to accept you as their little sister because God, oh dear God, you loved how they treated you for the last few days in your stay at the hospital.

They treated you like glass. Like someone precious. Treated you in a way that you didn’t even know was possible.

It got you questioning if you even deserved it because your stepmother said that you didn’t deserve anyone else’s love but only her’s.

And then it hit you.

You don’t deserve it, don’t you?

It was just a pity. It wasn’t love, it was pity.

But guilt bubbles in you as the thought passes through your mind. Who do you think you are to judge their actions? Who do you think you are to doubt their love for you?

You’re just a fool who wanted to force her way into their own little bubble of family.

It’s fucking embarrassing, you tell yourself.

So you run away. Turn your back on them like how Izana did to you. You ignore their calls of pleas and waits. You drown everything around you.

As they curse at how fast you could run, you’re grateful for the times you need to run away and hide on the nights where your stepmother’s wrath was too much. Maybe it was a destiny to be abused for this very moment. This moment to run away from people who turned out to be not blood-related at all.

You should’ve just remained in your own hell.

You’re not supposed to be here.

You don’t belong here.

Kakucho kneels in front of his king. His king who he found in front of the orphanage. He felt like a fool for not thinking about this place first.

Because as much as they wanted to leave this place before, it was still their home in their younger years.

"Izana, please. She's looking for you. She begged me to bring you back to her." He remembers the way your lips wobbled, your eyes dripping with unshed tears as you begged him to bring your brother back.

As you told him that you want Izana to stay with you because he's your family.

"She doesn't deserve me and I don't deserve her." Izana says and it hits Kakucho, as well as the Haitani brothers who helped him in finding Izana, that their king was just as desperate as you but in a different way.

While you're desperate to run after him, he's desperate to run away from you.

All because he thinks he doesn't deserve you and vice versa.

"She's…she's too pure for me, Kakucho. She's too bright." Ran looks down, eyes glancing at Rindou because he knows what Izana is saying. He understands.

But he frowns and shakes his head, stepping forward.

"Your sister…" he starts and he could see Rindou's eyebrows rising in surprise. "I understand that you want to push her away. Hell, I wanted to push Rindou away from this…gang activities before but he's all I have and I'm all he has." 

Ran stops, sighing.

"What I want to say is that she deserves at least an explanation of why you want her away from you. That is, if you still want to push her away after all this talk. She was longing for you, you know? Kakucho told me."

Izana looks up at the sky. It was so…unfamiliar. Did the sky always look that way? It was always dull before, wasn't it? Why is it suddenly blue and white? 

Why is it suddenly bright?

His hands are painted with blood and violence and yours looked like they aren't even aware of what violence is.

His head was filled with dark thoughts and you looked like all your thoughts were all flowers and sunshines.

How could he face you after all he's done? How could he tell you that he also wanted to stay with you because apparently, you're his real blood-related sister and that's all he ever wanted?

He breathes out shakily.

God fucking damnit.

If he's selfish to want to have you accept him even though he knows he fucked up his first interaction with you, then so be it. Make him look selfish. Greedy. Asshole.

He doesn't care anymore.

Kakucho's phone rings before he could even tell them to bring him to you.

"Hello?"

Something grips Izana's heart as he watches Kakucho's eyes widen as he looks straight back at him.

"What…what do you mean she's missing?"

The concept of family was always known yet unfamiliar to you. Everytime you go out and see parents with their children laughing happily, there’s a longing, a nostalgia that you feel. It was ironic how nostalgia is present when all you could remember was rough hands and sharp nails connecting with your skin.

However, when you got informed that you have an older brother miles away from you, it was enough to at least dull the painful memories and it was changed to an imagination, hope, that your brother will let you piggy ride his back, will let you play with his hair, and just…just simple bondings that a family do.

But you found out that it was merely imagination. A feeble hope to be destroyed by said brother.

You found yourself running and running and running.

You don’t even know where you are. You don’t care anymore. You just want to run away from here, want to get away from these almost familiar looking streets. Your eyes and lungs are burning. Exhaustion seeps through your body and your head is back to letting something hit it from the inside.

Everything is becoming blurry; was it because of the tears? The dizziness? Either way, you kept running until your feet took you to a soft feeling under.

A beach.

You’re on a beach and the sand felt so soft underneath you it was making you sick. Everything seems big, bright, dull, soft, and rough. They’re loud. The waves are loud, entrancing and calling you.

Your mind is racing with a million thoughts and yet, it is empty. All you could think about was how nice it was to just rest naturally like the sun setting beyond the horizon in front of you. All you could think about was the “what-if’s” and “could’ve been’s” if you didn’t look for your brother, if said brother didn’t turn his back on you, and if you didn’t turn your back on the people who were nothing but nice to you.

Your unshed tears were dried by the breeze, thoughts seemingly getting blown away with it, the waves in front of you engulfing it and taking it away.

And then you’re just there.

An empty shell of what used to be you.

You’re just there, feet slowly walking towards the waves.

Family is a concept you tried so hard to understand. It’s something you know and don’t know. It’s something you experienced in a wrong way.

Something that got you questioning your true purpose in life. It was supposed to be given to you the moment you were born so why?

Why are you all alone and trembling in fear and yet, you keep walking? The water is cold and it’s pulling and pushing you in and out. It’s shooing you away at the same time it’s pulling you in.

You were born in a household that paints your skin blue and purple. People are supposed to be born and cradled with gentle and soothing hands, aren’t they? So why were you even born if you don’t have those?

Ahh.

You get it.

You were born to die, weren’t you?

Izana’s vision was obscured with his own unshed tears. He’s trembling and running. A part of him blame the Sanos for your disappearance. How could they tell you about the truth? Couldn’t they have just hid it from you? Protect you from it?

But then he’s too aware of what could happen if people let the water boil for too long. He’s seen it in himself. He’s seen how he was so full of hope and was ignorant of the truth that it utterly destroyed him when he was forced to face the reality.

It was funny, he thinks. Funny how he uttered the words that you’re no sister of his but the both of you are just too similar, aren’t you?

Both longing for a family.

It was funny because you’re there, a family, and yet he pushed you away. He’s such a fool, isn’t he?

But he vows to himself that this time, he’ll make things right. This time, he’ll open his heart and accept people. He’ll open his kingdom and let people do whatever they want. He’ll be a king who comes down from his throne for you- his family.

He’s running along a beach, he registers, and your name comes out of his mouth as if it’s the last thing keeping him sane. And maybe it was, maybe you are the only thing keeping him sane because he’s running like a madman, the word “No” stumbling out of his mouth over and over again.

You’re the only family he has. The only blood-related family he has so why are you trying to run away? He’s selfish, he knows. He’s the cause of this and he wants the waves to engulf him instead.

The waves already reached your waist but you’re just looking ahead, unaware of the people running towards you. Your eyes looked empty and it terrifies him. Those similar lilac eyes are supposed to be shining albeit a bit dim. They’re not supposed to be empty like his.

He reaches for your hand and tugs you to him. It scared him how you were so limp that you let him engulf you in his arms as he frantically dragged you towards the shore, how you let the both of you fall on your knees.

Kakucho, the Sanos, Draken, the Haitani brothers, and Takemichi sees the pure terror in Izana’s eyes as he holds you against him tightly. They notice the trembles of his body, the wobble of his lips and his tears that are freely flowing, carving their way on his cheeks.

His mouth was gaping, opening and closing, finding their words but it seemed like the waves took it away with them. He doesn’t know what to say.

He almost lost you.

Forever.

One moment, you’re feeling the water reaching your waist and the next, it was trembling warm arms around you. Having disassociated with your reality, you were baffled because you’re suddenly at the shore, kneeling, and leaning against someone.

You didn’t have to look up to see who it was for he smelled like a family, a comfort, and safety.

You sob quietly against your brother, feeling him tense under you but his arms around you further tightens. You’re also trembling, fear creeping in you with full force with the realisation that you were so close to killing yourself.

You feel lost.

Afraid.

Are you even alive? What if you’re actually under the waves and all of this is just an imagination? A last resort of your brain that’s seeking comfort?

Your hand grips your brother’s clothes, hard and tight, as if he’ll disappear if you let go for at least a second. You hear him shushing you, calming you down, but it just made you sob more. 

Despite being treated softly by the Sanos, being treated in the same way by your real blood-related brother was different.

You felt loved. You felt safe. You felt accepted.

This was the purpose you were cradling in your delicate, trembling hands years ago. Now, it’s being cradled by you and your brother; shared.

But something inside you is still not content. You need to make sure that everything is real. That right now is not just a figment of your imagination.

“Kuya…” you cry out.

“Yeah?” Izana says, so soft and gentle.

“Kuya, I’m here…I’m here, right?” you question the reality, daring. You hear Izana breathing out shakily, his right hand cupping your cheek, tilting your head to his direction. 

And his eyes. You have those eyes, don’t you? They’re so similar to yours and it makes you sob more. You’re finally staring at your family. 

“You’re here, Y/N, you’re here with me.” he reassures. It took you a moment to process his words but after a while, a wobbly little smile made its way to your lips before it fell- in relief- as you hid in his neck once again.

Your sobs echo through the area. The waves were calm as if giving you privacy, the sunset basking you with its gentle light and warmth.

The Sanos and Haitani brothers watch with a smile and deep gratitude to the world. Even though their family is broken, they know they were lucky enough to have each other since the beginning unlike you and your brother who had to cross multiple challenges just to see each other.

With a soft grin, all of them made their way to the both of you.

And all of a sudden, affection seeps to your head from their pats. It was overwhelming but you found yourself smiling and not running away. Your eyelids feel heavy, making you sigh.

Before succumbing to darkness in your brother’s arms, the last thing you felt was warm lips against your forehead along with a soft “thank you for not giving up on me, Y/n.” and,

“Thank you for being here.”

A/N: i swear we're getting fluff next hehe (with a sprinkle of angst)

@bontensbabygirl

[katsune-nya]

Emma's first period.

Platonic!Emma × Reader.

Gender neutral but she calls you with the "-nee" suffix once in the beginning and you enter the restroom with her.

Mentions of Shin being dead. Grandpa Sano mentioned lmao.

You are suddenly startled by the ringing of your phone. You set your items next to the aisle and pick them up.

"Hello?"

"Y/N-nee, something is wrong." The girly voice says from the other side.

You used to be friends with Shinichiro before he passed, thanks to him you met his two younger siblings, Manjiro- no, he would throw a tantrum if you said that: Mikey, and Emma.

After the loss of their older brother, you started visiting them and their grandpa every chance you could. You helped out around when you felt like it and tried to offer some semblance of normalcy in their lives. Helping them with school work (well, forcing Mikey to do his homework), gossiping about Emma's crush, telling them stories about Shin and even guiding them through their recent start on teenagehood whenever they allowed you to.

"What? What happened? Are you OK?" You ask now concerned, already about to leave your stuff stranded there to run to the girl's rescue.

"I'm... I'm in the toilet and I'm bleeding." She responds.

You think for a moment. "Wait... Where are you bleeding from."

"Well... Down there?" She responds shyly.

"Oh, thank God." You might have forgotten to talk about one very important topic. You didn't expect it to be so soon "You'll be OK, love. You got your period. I'll be at your place in a moment. Is anyone else home?"

"Grandpa is teaching and Mikey is napping, I think."

"Alright, if you feel unwell while you wait you can try calling one of them, but I promise you'll be OK, I'm on my way." You grab some pads and snacks from a nearby shelf and get some pain meds before paying for all the items and rushing to the Sano residence.

You unlock the door with your keys that Grandpa Sano had made for you some time ago and step in, setting your bags on the dinner table and going to the restroom Emma might be in.

You knock. "Emma? It's me."

"You can come in." Says the girl, opening the door slightly.

You step inside carefully and crouch on the floor in front of her.

"It hurts..." She says softly. "I thought something was wrong..."

You get some pads from the bag you brought with you. "Here, I'll teach you how to stick them." You unwrap the pad for the girl and show her the covered sticky sides. "Now uncover the bottom one and stick it right in the middle of the underwear." She does as you say. "Perfect. Take the plastic off the wings and stick them tightly on the sides of the cloth." She does so a bit slowly, accidentally making one of the wings stick to itself and then trying again.

"Done." She says.

"Good job. I'll wait for you outside, yeah?" She nods and you leave the bathroom, putting the padded packet back in your bag and waiting for her to come out. After around a minute, she does.

You go with her to her bedroom and she immediately lays in bed with a grumpy face. "Does this mean I'm grown at least?" It's obvious she doesn't like the situation, but she always had the want to show she was already a woman, so the words just came out.

"Eh... Not really." You set the pads on her nightstand and sit next to her on the bed, caressing her honey-blonde hair. "You are bigger than you were yesterday, but you're still a kid... well, teen, and that's fine. Don't rush it."

She looks up at you with a pout and you start talking again. "This will be uncomfortable for a few days and maybe hurt a bit, but it shouldn't be too bad. If it is, we'll tell your grandpa to take you to the doctor."

"I thought it was supposed to start later?" She looks almost offended.

"Well, it depends, some get it at 8, others at 17, there's not one exact age." You caress her hair some more and she starts to relax.

"How long will it last?"

"Hmm. From three to seven days normally. Sometimes more or less."

"Ugh." That's all she says.

"You might get bloated, break out, have pain in weird parts of your body, feel fatter, uglier, weaker, more uncomfortable, or like everything sucks, but try not to listen to those thoughts too much, it's not ALL bad, you're in your period. When it's over, you'll go back to normal. Your hormones are hell right now, so don't think you're crazy if you suddenly start crying or yelling about something you don't normally even care about."

"Ugh." She groans. "That sucks."

You chuckle. "Hey, but it's a good excuse for some stuff."

"Like what?" She asks, getting in a better position with her head on your thighs.

"Well, chocolate sometimes helps with the pain, so you can eat all you want." You start. "Even though exercise can help too, you need to rest, so you can stay all day in bed, or on the couch watching TV."

She doesn't look too convinced, but she doesn't seem to dislike the ideas.

"You can go and act like a poor damsel in distress and get Mikey to do your chores for you."

Her eyes brighten. "OK, I don't have a choice, and it still sucks... But it's not ALL bad." Her expression is more relaxed now.

"Oh no, you look like you're in pain."

"What? Oh no, it's honestly not th-"

"We better have some chocolate to make it better!"

"Oh, I mean, ouch! So hurt, such pain!" she says dramatically.

•••••

I'm on my period and have older sister syndrome so I got this idea and needed to write it.

I headcanon she developed early from what we've learned.

And also like, she definitely has an obsession with seeming grown.

She deserved a good female role model ffs.

[freakshowtwopointoh]

How Long? - All I've Ever Known Part 9

Nothing comes of wishing on stars...

Show them a crack they’ll tear down the wall

< prev | next >

After a sleepless night in the bathroom, I waited until I heard a few students milling about in the halls before I left. I turned my phone back on and raided the nearest lost and found for a change of clothes. I found a random sweatshirt and shorts that smelled... off. But it's better than everyone staring at me as I walk across campus in my dress from last night. When I get back to the townhouse, Jordan is on the porch, halfway through a cigarette. Relief flashed across their face before it was replaced with annoyance and maybe... jealousy?

“Whose clothes are you wearing?” They asked, disdain covering the concern in their tone. They flicked the ash from their cig. I looked down at my outfit and brushed off imaginary specks of dust. With my silk dress shoved unceremoniously in a plastic bag, I looked less like a college student from a well-off family and more like a sad and unemployed tech bro. 

“No idea.” I said, making my way up the steps to stand next to them. A few months ago, I would have rushed inside. But I was willing to do almost anything to steal a few moments with Jordan - even sit in these stale strangers' gym clothes.

“Where’d you go? No one saw you after you took pictures, and then the power went out... we hoped you might have ditched before anything happened.” My brow furrowed in confusion and I turned to look back at them.

“Luke was with me up until maybe ten minutes before the power went out. He wanted to make sure I spoke to some of our dad’s associates.” I said.

“He told me he hadn’t seen you since he took pictures with you. He was convinced that you must have left before the power was cut.” Jordan replied, just as confused as I was. I shook my head.

“That’s a lie.” I said, my voice barely audible. I realized my hands were shaking. I sat heavily on the bench. My ears were ringing, the world was spinning around me, and I thought I might actually be sick. There’s a lot I don’t understand, but there is no good reason that he would lie about that. Every red flag I had been ignoring was being waved in my face. The truth I had been fighting for months was undeniable now: I could not trust my own family. Not with my dreams, not with my secrets, and apparently, not with my life. And I had to go spend a whole month with them, the longest I’d been away from Godolkin since The Incident. 

“Mouse?” Jordan’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. “You with me?” I looked up at them, unsure if I could even vocalize the tangled mess of emotions coursing through my veins.

“I’d been wondering why he didn’t call me. He...” I couldn’t even bring myself to try to hide my fear anymore. “Jordan, I don’t know what’s going on, but something is wrong.” I looked around nervously, trying to see if there was anyone else around and lowered my voice. “I keep telling myself I’m being paranoid. When the power went out last night, it felt like everyone around me - my dad’s associates or whatever - was surrounding me. Grabbing me, pulling me. I, you know,” I mimed pushing the energy outwards. “Pushed them off, and bolted. Spent the night in the performing arts library, hiding in a bathroom stall.” I took a steadying breath. “I can’t think of any good reason why Luke would lie about seeing me at the gala. I’m worried that there’s something I’m not seeing.” 

“Maybe he just wanted to keep me from worrying?” Jordan said, but even they didn’t sound like they believed it. We sat for a moment, rolling the information over in our minds. Our bodies instinctively turned into each other, seeking solace and connection in the face of danger. 

But the moment ended too soon. Andre came out onto the porch, we quickly changed the subject, and I didn’t get another chance to speak to Jordan alone before the winter break. It killed me. I wanted to spend another few minutes just sitting with them. It was the only place I felt understood. But they had a train to catch, and my parents sent a car to pick me and Luke up to take us to some house they rented with our aunt’s family. I was dreading every second of it. Last Christmas was two months after Sammy disappeared, and even then, my family sent me disapproving glares every time my eyes got watery or I got lost in my grief. I haven’t even been to my parents house since then - he had been erased from the house. Photos - removed. Bedroom - remodeled. Belongings - buried in boxes in the attic. I remember the day after Christmas, I fled to the attic, grief and sorrow wracking my body. I unpacked every box, searching for something of his that I could hold onto. Something real. But everything was cleaned - scents and stains scrubbed from fabric and wood alike. Some items were missing - donated or regifted, most likely. I ended up falling asleep on the rough wooden floor, surrounded by old clothes. Either no one else in my family noticed, or more likely, they didn’t care. Sam was to be forgotten - our story rewritten as if he never existed. Any violation of that rule was to be ignored, a social faux pas not unlike an unexpected yawn.

I wondered if anyone would even say his name. Would we do some phony remembrance to soothe my parents' guilt? Or would it be a repeat of last year? Like the mere mention of the dead was what brought grief into existence. But my grief burned in my soul, boiled under my skin, and it didn’t go away when I ignored it. It festered and rotted in my heart. I didn’t understand how the rest of my family could bear it. Sometimes I saw a twinge of it in my mother’s eye, or an echo of it in Luke’s voice. But that only made it worse, made me want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them. 

The break passed by painfully slowly, and it didn’t help that my nightmares were back in full force. I found myself ‘boxing’ with cement bags in the garage and wishing I could spar with Jordan. They were right - there was something about fighting a thinking opponent. Especially one as formidable as they are. In another world, I would have asked Luke to spar with me. We used to train together, the three of us. We mainly focused on utilizing our powers against “gangs” of training dummies or something similar. Luke caused a small forest fire once, and Sam would often destroy the training dummies after a few days. But after everything... 

Punching things also helped with my anger, which seemed to be constantly bubbling under the surface, alongside my grief and my fear. And not just my grief for Sam, but my grief for the life I lost, the future I had been working towards for years. And the worst part? Every lie, every signature, every interview or event feels like an insult to his memory. We planned our future together. If I could create a life he would be proud of, it wouldn’t hurt so bad that he was gone. And if I had to go through the lies and bullshit I was going through now, it wouldn’t be so painful if I had him by my side. But I was stuck with the worst of both worlds - everything was wrong and no one else noticed or cared. Except for maybe Jordan. Scratch that, I know they care. 

We had been able to talk late at night, when both of us were too anxious or angry to sleep. Never about anything too important, but hearing their voice was soothing nonetheless. Plus, it was incredibly cathartic to drink whiskey and bitch about our parents together. Like Christmas night.

“Still no one, Jor. Not even on Christmas.” I clenched my jaw, forcing the hot, angry tears back.

“I hope I get to meet him one day.” they said quietly, and I had to cover my mouth to muffle the choked sob that threatened to burst from my chest. 

“Me too.” I whispered. I took a long, shaky breath, regaining a bit of my composure. “How about you? Did your parents hold it together for the big day?”

“Eh.” They said dismissively. “But my cousin was here, and she’s a riot. I can’t wait for you guys to meet.” For the second time that night, I was grateful we weren’t video chatting because my face flushed crimson. “She and Emma together are like a tornado of blonde hair and chaos.” I laughed, unable to keep myself from picturing a literal tornado a la Looney Toons.

“That’s amazing. I’m so in. If both you and Emma like someone, it usually means they’re good people.” 

“You’re not wrong there.” They said, their voice light and teasing.

“By the way, we have to have another sparring session when we get back. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m losing my mind punching the same stacks of cement bags every night.” And it doesn’t work as well at getting rid of my nightmares. I think to myself. 

“That’s the easiest fucking deal I’ve ever made. You’re a fun opponent.” I giggled a little, laying back on my bed. I heard them suppress a yawn. “Alright, mouse, it’s my bedtime. Talk to ya later. And merry christmas.” I smiled softly. 

“Sweet dreams, Jor. Merry Christmas.” I said, and then the line clicked off. I spared a glance for the gift I found for Jordan, and I couldn’t deny the butterflies in my stomach. 

I had been wandering in town and I stumbled upon this antique store, with an old long-haired black cat napping in the window. As I wandered the aisles, there was a vintage motorcycle jacket with an eagle patch on the back. I couldn’t help but picture Jordan wearing it, pulling up on their bike with that smirk gracing their face. The woman behind the counter gave me a knowing look as she wrapped it carefully. 

“You have a good eye.” She said, smiling at me as she handed me the box. I nodded and smiled, blushing as I left the store. I have no idea how I’ll be able to act casual when I give it to them. My heart races and my hands get clammy just thinking about it. There wasn’t anything romantic about the jacket, but it still sort of felt like an admission in and of itself. 

But even the most intense crushes couldn’t stop the turmoil in my mind forever. I went to work out, slamming my fists into the bags repeatedly. My mind keeps running through the situation we’re in, reminding me of the danger always looming overhead.

We needed to be careful, but we were running out of time before they struck again. My brother and father have been more obvious over this vacation about their opinions on my attitude. They are constantly reminding me of the gifts I’ve been given and making passive aggressive comments about my less-than-stellar mood. It's clear to me that my father doesn’t think I’m doing enough to sell the story. But I still don’t know what they’ll do about it - how far would they go to ensure I’m a believable success story. And I still couldn’t figure out how much they were involved in - both my family and Vought. Was my father aware of what truly happened to me in the spring? Was my brother? 

One night, a few days before I had to go back to campus, I heard a news report that caught me off guard. A small group of vigilantes had been attempting to break into some undisclosed Vought Industries facility. The pictures they flashed were pulled from security footage, and the name didn’t sound familiar, but I wrote it down anyway. I can trust exactly one person right now, and I have a feeling things are going to get worse. If there’s someone else going against Vought, it’s worth at least a look. Jordan ... disagreed.

“I get that you’re desperate, but isn’t he a literal murderer?”

“Accused, from what I understand. But yeah, it seems so.” I said, hoping I sounded more nonchalant than I felt. “I did some digging at a cafe here. I didn’t find much.” I sighed. “I just... have so many questions. And no way to get answers. It’s infuriating.”

“Like I said, you’re desperate. I know. But don’t be an idiot, yeah?” I grit my teeth in frustration, but I knew they were right.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” I said finally, and then changed the subject. 

I was grateful that I had a few extra days with Jordan before classes started. Technically we’re there in an official capacity, to be available for our professors and whatnot. But I was just happy to get away from Luke for a few days, just to figure everything out. 

I got to the house first and put Jordan’s gift on their bed, too nervous to actually contemplate handing it to them. Like yeah, we spoke nearly every day over break, but it felt like my nerves about seeing them again only got worse. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and it’s honestly scaring me. I always considered myself a level-headed person, able to keep my emotions in check. Even with the struggles of the past year, my grades stayed steady, and my friends and family noticed little difference. But Jordan. Jordan saw through me before they even knew me. And they’re real, genuine in a way that I’ve never seen before. I think that’s what gets me the most. Yes, Jordan’s insanely hot. And yes, they’re insanely smart and insanely powerful. But it isn’t any of that that makes my heart race or my stomach flood with butterflies. It’s their boldness, their determination, their integrity. They made me want to push myself harder, to prove myself worthy of their respect. 

All of that to say, I’m hiding out in my bedroom, spending way more time than necessary responding to emails for Professor Park. I had one earbud in, half-listening for when Jordan got in. My heart thudded in my chest as I finally heard the front door swing open. God, I’m pathetic! It’s just a fucking jacket, Mags, get it together. But I found myself twisting my fingers around each other, reading and rereading the same email without processing a word of it.

It was another hour before Jordan would come and knock on my door. 

“Come in!” I called out. Jordan came in, looking so hot in that jacket it was actually unfair. It was baggy on them in this form, but it looked effortlessly cool. I grinned, hoping to hide my attraction. “I hoped it would fit.” I said. 

“Dude, this is fucking sick. Where’d you find it?” I let out a shaky breath, laughing awkwardly. I thought after they got the gift I’d calm down, but I swore my hands were trembling slightly. 

“Oh, there was this vintage store in the town we were in. They had a super old black cat, so you know I had to go in.” Jordan laughed.

“Obviously.” They teased. 

“It was in the back, but the owner of the shop seemed pleased I pulled it out.” I paused, admiring them in the jacket once more. “And it looks much better off the hanger.” They winked, but I almost swore I saw their cheeks flush red. 

We spent the next day or so catching up and doing busywork for Park and Brink. Jordan and I were walking in a nervous silence back to the townhouse from a pre-semester T.A. meeting. Ever since I got back, I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of being watched, and it was all the more intensified in the evening light. We were a bit more than halfway there when a skinny, nervous man with curly brown hair and big eyes walked up to us, tapping me on the shoulder. I jumped, and Jordan glared.

“Margaret Riordan? We heard you were looking for us.” When he registered my frightened and confused expression, he added: “I work for Butcher. Follow me.” And with that, he started off into the darkness. I turned to Jordan, shrugged, and followed the strange anxious man. I heard them sigh exasperatedly before following me. 

“This better not get us killed.” They muttered. We followed the anxious man to a small navy blue sedan, where another man sat in the driver’s seat - he was more muscular with a shaved head and facial hair, and a surprisingly alternative fashion sense. 

He gave us a small but cheery wave, and we clambered into the backseat. He didn’t wait for us to buckle up before beginning to careen through the streets. The anxious man, who introduced himself as Hughie, looked resigned to the chaos, white knuckling the passenger side door. The driver introduced himself as Frenchie, with a thick French accent. He drove the car with one hand on the wheel, the other hand dangling a cigarette out the open window. 

We took a winding route there, listening to fast-paced french music as we drove. My heart raced, but I almost felt... excited. I looked over at Jordan, seeing their trepidation clear on their face. On a whim, I took their hand, squeezing it gently. They looked a little surprised but didn’t pull away. I ignored the way that made my stomach lurch.

When we finally made it to an unassuming brick building, Frenchie parked the car haphazardly before leading us inside, with Hughie trailing behind us.

“How did you find her?” Jordan hissed once we were inside, their eyes blazing. Hughie and Frenchie both looked uncomfortable, sharing a look that I couldn’t read. And then, my entire world changed.

< prev | next >

[eclipse-rain]

TR; Yin and Yang:

☆☆☆

Summary: What would happen of there was another child of the sano family that no one knew about, not even mikey. A secret sibling who seemingly came from no where. One who looked alot like a ghost of the past long dead and buried.

Warnings; Slight manga spoilers?, Tense: You/Your, She/her pronouns, slight swearing, Plantonic/sfw - duh, Reader has a resembalance to mikeys mom and shinichiro

Part 2 •Part 3

Masterlist~

He remembered it vividly.

Those moments.

He remebered them all.

The image of his mother in a hospital bed.

His mother, the one who birthed him and his beloved older brother. The one who loved the two as well as their younger half sister emma.

His mother had loved his father very much. So much so that he was almost the only thing they ever talked about when he would go to visit her in the hospital. So much so that she loved his child who wasnt even her own.

Who wasnt her blood nor from her own womb but that didnt matter to her. She loved emma like she did her biological children.

Her children.

They were her children.

They were all her children.

You wondered if that included you.

If it had ever included you.

But you never knew and you never would know now that you stood in the freezing cold air with only one black umbrella held high above your head to keep the pelting rain from drenching your small frame.

Now that you stood at the back of your biological mothers funeral while you watched people walk up to pay their respects.

He nudged you forward, the man who held the umbrella above you, pushing you to start your journey up to the front.

Mabey it was weird that instead of focusing on the sadness of being headed to the place where you would say your final goodbyes to your mother you felt like you were walking the plank of a pirate ship.

You felt weird.

You felt exposed.

You felt like all the eyes in the room bore into you, like they could see who you were and what you were hiding.

You had inched your way about halfways up the aisle in the middle of the rows where people sat to the right and left of you when you felt a familiar hand on the top of your small back.

One that was familar to you but now felt slightly diffrent.

A strong hand that once held yours. Lifted you high and patted your head a million times. One you felt was reliable. One you could entrust everything to like the whole world revolved around this one hand that was held out just for you that you could fall back on anytime no matter what.

That hand now felt diffrent. It was weaker than it was before, it was tired, it was sad. There was no strength to its grip where it was placed on your back, like all the fight in it had finally run its course and had been washed away by the same rain that threatened to grow heavier outside the establishment.

The one who this hand belonged to guided you up to the place where your mothers picture was displayed in the center of seemingly a thousand white flowers.

You hesitated.

The lone flower in your small hands felt meager in comparison.

Noticing your reluctance the man cupped your hands in his and guided them to the place where your flower would rest by your mothers picture, his black hair falling in front of his face to hide his pained eyes in the process.

This was the last time you would see your mother, the only send off you could give her.

He was the same.

This time you both could do nothing more than accept defeat and cut your losses.

Because this had just about been the greatest loss either of you had faced yet.

~

You had lingered up there for too long. Lost in the few memories you had. All your thoughts swirled seeming to have too many and none at the same time.

You hated to think to much, it never did you any good.

But you couldnt stop yourself most of the time.

You hated to be seen.

You hated when you felt like people could see through you and into your heart and soul.

Like they could see past the barriers you put around them.

Thats why you probably felt more embarrassed than sad at your own mothers funeral.

Because she was someone who no one knew had any relation to you at all.

All except one person.

That one person who you could rely on.

Whos hands cupped yours, patted your head and guided you back down the middle of the aisle and out of the building.

Only a few moments had passed since you had been lead out of the establishment but you heard the two male voices not too far from you gradually rising.

'Those two are fighting arent they?' you thought flatly

The one who had brought you here, the one who held the umbrella, the one in the suit was fighting with the one who you relied upon, the one who rested a hand on your back in a comforting gesture, who was donned in a funeral garb and whos wet black hair stuck to his angered face because of the pelting rain.

The rain was belting down and you could still hear them shouting at each other through it.

Mabey they were shouting to be heard because the rain was so loud or mabey it was just the perfect cover. The perfect excuse for people to think that was the reason why they were shouting so angrily.

Trying to be heard.

It was something every person wanted.

But whether people then decided to listen in return was another matter and one you might never have the privilege of.

And you definitely would not if they were fighting about what you thought they were fighting about.

The rain splattered against the window on the car, where you had been sat, sheltered from the rain outside. You drew various shapes in the condensation that formed along it. You paused your drawing to watch two raindrops seemingly race each other to the bottom of the window.

You tried to guess which one would win. And you watched as they slowly made their way down, seeing the one you chose lose to the other.

"Hmn?" you made an interested sound having formed a thought on the matter

A bad sign?

Could that tell you something about what choice the two men outside were going to come to.

Make for you.

Make for your future.

'Thats dumb' you thought.

It wasnt a bad sign. It wasnt a sign at all. They were just bad feelings. It was just the bad feelings from your whole ordeal right now.

Your mothers death which in turn also ment the re-examination of your future. Of you and what to do with you.

Thats what they were disscusing, or rather, fighting about right now.

Where would you go? Who would you stay with? Grow up with?

It would shape your future, your life.

The choice had to be the correct one and even if it wasnt you, yourself, had no choice in the matter.

You who was still a child had no choice in the matter at all.

You had no choice and therefore you were forced to rely on the adults around you to make the correct choices for you.

The best ones. The ones that would give you the best future possible. The ones that wouldnt fuck you up the most.

But you specifically only relied on one person to do that for you after your mothers death.

Not the man in the suit but the one who donned the funeral garb. The only other person you could remember who was always kind to you and had always been by your side other than your mother.

Thats when you were pried from your thoughts as your eyes shifted to a blurry figure through the foggy window who seemed to be approching the car you were in.

It was that very same man.

The one in the funeral garb.

The only other person you could rely on, who was kind to you, who loved you, other than your mother.

Your older brother.

"Shin" you murmured in greeting and recognition, in a soft quiet voice, a voice that seemed unsure in itself of how it was feeling, that of a child who was lost and looking in this moment for something to cling onto for some solidarity and something in her life that would finally be permanent.

The only thing you had ever had close to that was your mother but even then you knew that someday your mother would leave you. Your mother who was always so sickly and frail looking, which couldnt be hidden even by her immense beauty.

Your mother was not something who would be permanent in your life, she was not someone who you could rely on to stay by your side and never leave you. To take care of you and not cause you any pain.

In fact it was quite the opposite.

It might sound cruel but you would be lying if you said you didnt feel the slightest bit realieved when she finally died.

Always being kept on the edge of your seat. Always being on the edge of that plank which you had started walking a long time ago, which now you could finally step off of to take the plunge into that despair, into that cold darkness that was almost like a refuge at this stage.

You didnt have to stay strong for her any longer. You could finally let go. Let go of your own emotions and despair and cry until you were comforted.

Comforted by a strong hand. One that could be relied upon, one that could protect you, one that you didnt have to be strong in front of.

That was why you felt even a slight bit of realief no matter how selfish that sounded.

The car door had been pried open and the soaking wet man in front of you made a gesture with his hand for you to scooch over.

You both sat there like that for a while in silence. You waited expectantly for his first words but you wouldnt push. You had learned not to push for more than you needed to survive at a young age.

And he was the only person you had every truly, fully relied on. You had no doubt that even if he made you wait years that the first words to come out of his mouth would reasure you of your future.

Yes. That was it.

He was just taking it all in as well.

He already has two younger siblings, even if they have their grandfather it would be hard to take you in as well.

But you were family.

You shared the same mother.

The same mother who was now a corpse that lay stone cold in a casket.

You had another older brother who you shared the same mother with as well, although you had never met him.

He was Shin's younger brother. Shin and your mother had told you about him. He was about ten years younger than shin, close enough to your age actually.

You wanted to live with Shin. You would be lying if you said you werent the slightest bit curious when he had told you about his younger siblings, your other siblings. You were even more intrigued when Shin had told you about his younger half sister.

Even if you and her were not related by blood, since you shared the same mother with your brothers while she shared the same father, that didnt matter. You thought having a sister would be fun and a younger one would be super cute.

So just say the word.

Say those words and im ready to start my new life. I'll try really hard to get along with them. I wont be bothersome. I wont take more than i need. I just need a palce to belong. Where i dont have to be strong all the time. To finally be able to rest.

When you live a life of uncertainty you never get to rest and when you have been living a life like that from a young age you never truly learn how to rest in the first place.

Constantly worried, constantly anxious.

Constant thoughts.

Ones you cant shut out or shut up.

Thoughts of a million diffrent scenario's. About everything. About life. About your future. About death.

But have somewhere you could finally belong, finally rest, and those thoughts might become quite, be silenced, be put at ease for the first time in your short but hard life.

Its not that you didnt love your mother, you loved her more than anything in this world. She was everything to you. Having Shinichiro made everything slightly more bareable though. With the help of your mothers reasurance you felt like even if she really did end up leaving you that you wouldnt be completely lost without her.

Before, you always had constant anxiety about what would happen to you if your mother ever did pass. It never really went away even after she reassured you but as you saw your mothers health declining when you were completely alone you started to spiral yourself.

Shin was your stabilizer.

Honestly, you knew your mother had other kids but you never thought about them much before Shinichiro made a point to tell you about them. And even when your mother would tell you tid-bits about them from time to time you only nodded along while doing something else and gave out the occasional response to show that you were listening to your mother.

You had always known Shinichiro though. He had always been just there. He had always been in your life. He was your constant. He had always been your big brother. Shinichiro really was a natural big brother. He was so easy to get along with, he was reliable and you felt like he understood you.

Understood you who had no one else in your life who you could talk to apart from your mother never mind confide in about your worries and mothers illness and how that might be affecting you and your mental well being.

You didnt really think much about your mothers other kids until one day your older brother asked you a certain question.

"What would you think about having other siblings?"

"Are you talking about moms other children?" You replied

"Yeah, my siblings. Yours too..." He continued "If you want them to be. Im sure they would love to have you as their sibling. Emma especially, she would go crazy for an older sister, im sure of it."

~~~

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw Shinichiros attention finally shift to you. He had been looking straight ahead ever since he got in the car as if in thought.

To be honest it hadnt even been that long since he had gotten in. It definitely had only been about a minute or two but the pounding of your heart in your chest blasted in your ears as if intensifying every second that passed by tenfold.

When his gaze shifted over to look at your small form you didnt miss the way his expression darkened slightly. He might have had a slight hesitance to look at you now and you could take a good guess as to why.

Even so, he continued to look you straight in the eye as he started to speak and never once did his eyes leave yours until the conversation between the two of you had ended.

You felt your heartbeat quicken in your ears as if your heart was trying to push more blood into them as you strained to hear the words that would be next to fall out of your older brothers mouth.

Your every hope and dream for your future relied on them, on him and you were just waiting to take your chance and run with it.

And run with it you would.

Well, you would have.

If the words that came out of his mouth were the ones you had expected to hear.

But you should have known by now. That there really was not a single soul you could truly rely on but yourself.

Oh...how hard it is to trust someone.

And how easy it is to have that trust betrayed.

Months and months of building up trust, mabey even longer depending on the person and then just like that, in a split second everything is thrown out the window.

Every hope. Every dream. And possibly every spec of trust you had left in your person.

That hand that you had relied upon, the one that had felt strong, well you were right earlier, it had grown weak.

Not in physical strength so to say, but in the capacity that the only words the man could muster while looking deep into your eyes as if also being able to see into your heart and soul in the process were...

"I'm sorry." He murmured in a voice that sounded so defeated, so heartbroken it would have tore at your own heart for him if you had not been in a situation where those words might as well be sentencing you

You stared at him blankly.

"I'm so, so sorry" he repeated

~~~

You blanked out for a second after hearing those words, trying not to believe that you knew the meaning behind them.

But you knew that this time you couldnt run from them, you were cornered and there was no way out.

You felt frozen and then all at once you felt a rush jolt though your body, through every vein, every nerve.

A rush of panic.

One so strong it could have winded you as all the emotions you had been bottling up over the years, almost the whole span of your short fleeting life, burst out.

"It's because i look like her isnt it!"

You hadnt missed the way his expression had slightly darkened earlier when he had turned to look at you.

You were well aware of, even if you were many years younger, just how much you resembled your mother in many diffrent aspects.

"...what...No! Of course thats not w-" Shinichiro sounded as if he had been caught off guard and wasnt expecting such a question but let himself be cut off by the shear panic in your voice

"If its because i look like mother i can fix it! I can just cut and dye my hair! I can wear glasses and even get contacts, it'll be no problem really!" The surge of emotions making anything you thought in that moment that would help the situation go back in the right direction spilled out.

Of course that was not the true reason for the cause of Shinichiros words but the panic inducing thoughts of a child left no room for a proper explaination or interpretation of the meaning of his words or why they were being said.

Outside the car a streak of lightning flashed and soon after a loud crack of thunder was heard as the sky grew darker and the rain continued to poor even heavier.

Although, the two inside the car seemed as if they had not noticed anything that could call for even a split second break in their concentration over their current conversation.

That was until the man in the suit strode over to the car where you both were. He who had been standing just outside the funeral venue under the roof while holding his umbrella seemed to have thought that enough time had been had between the two of you for your older brother, to clear things up.

Not that he cared.

He didnt care if shinichiro had the time of day or not. Who was the one who had to take his annoying little sister away with him?

Shinichiro and his grandfather could fight for custody of you all they wanted but it was certain to say that at least now they were no where near going to be granted that.

His grandfather was far too elderly by now to take in another kid after already having custody of three. Shinichiro could try for custody but he had only just become an adult and was already helping his grandfather in keeping his two child siblings together with them so it was not likely to be granted.

CPS had not been keen on the idea of pushing two children onto their elderly guardian either.

This ment shinichiros younger brother and sister probably could have come close to being rehomed or sent to an orphanage as well if shinichiro hadnt become an adult recently and was working and earning money in a motorcycle shop. And also if theyre grandfather wasnt in good health and still earning money by working in his dojo.

The man with the umbrella didnt want to take you away from them, it really just ment more work for him so your presence really was just entirely bothersome for everyone involved.

And you knew that.

He was sure you knew that.

As long as you were alone with any other person besides your mother or shinchiro you wouldnt speak a word.

Not one.

No matter who talked to you or tried to get you to talk, be it adult or child.

Either you knew you were a nuscance or you were just trying to piss everyone who had to help you off.

Mabey it was both.

It probably was.

Well, he wondered if you would start talking to others now that you would be taken away from the only other person who you would respond to.

Though he didnt care about that either at least it would make his job the slightest bit easier, although he didnt know if it would make you any less annoying than you already were. Worst case scenario it could make you even more so.

All of this really just ment more paper work. More work. More time. More energy. More money.

Nothing that you had but everything that needed to be put in by other people just to raise you.

This you knew.

This was something that you were prevy to from a young age. Something you had often observed.

How everyone would be better off if you had never been born. How much easier life would have been for everyone.

Why were you born?

You didnt know.

Perhaps you would never know the answer to that question.

Well that was the last you saw of your older brother that awful day.

A fleeting and blurry image of his drenched form standing in the rain in the rear view mirror. Donned in his funaral garb watching you go as the black car pulled away with you in the back seat.

Did you get a proper goodbye?

No.

When would you see him again?

You didnt know.

Do you remember what the last thing he said to you was.

Also no.

You had basically blanked out almost straight after those first words he had uttered to you in that car left his lips.

But you did remember one thing.

The way his eyes never left yours.

The way tears pooled in them before they began to fall as you had yet to see him do at his own mothers funeral.

The way he clutched your shoulders as if holding on tighter ment he wouldnt have to let you go.

He was there through his mothers pregnancy and birth of you, his younger sister, like he was for his younger brothers.

He was the first to hold you aside from his mother and imagined what it would be like for you and manjiro to grow up beside each other.

But of course that never happened.

He didnt really remember how everything went to shit. How you ended up being separated from the rest of them. Just passing flashes here and there.

Neither did you. That was one thing you both had in common.

Blocking things out, wheather it was subconsciously or not.

And soon enough you found yourself walking up that aisle again.

The aisle where no one knew you.

Only this time you were saying a final goodbye to your older brother instead.

☆☆☆

Sometimes i surprise myself by my own writing, i literally basically zone out and then somehow iv gotten from A to B 🤨😟

[devskindawritingblog]

hiiii everyone. ( requests are totally open)

so I’m not working today and I wanted to do some writing….. but I don’t have any ideas…. So if anyone wanted to request anything from the boys or gen V I’d totally do it.

I’m gonna list every woman I’d write for 😅 Victoria neuman( obvs) Queen Maeve, starlight, kimiko, possibly sage 🤷.

Gen V: Marie, Emma, Cate, possibly Indira because why not.

and if I forgot someone just ask

[kumachii]

๑՞⇢ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐘𝐔𝐑𝐈 ⠇🦜↴

general info -

meaning: flower fence (花垣) , chestnut flower (栗花落)

alias: tsu-chan (friends), hermit crab (takemichi), boss girl (mizo middle gang)

age: 16 (in 2005); 28 (in 2017) [everyone is a little aged up, like by a year or so]

birthday: 3rd may 1989

zodiac sign: taurus

appearance -

hairstyle: black, short and usually tied into pigtails with locks and bangs framing her face

eyes: deep blue (classic hanagaki trait)

build: she is a little taller than average with firm muscles from training at the dojo since she could walk basically

height: 171 cm (5ft 6in)

personality -

overall: she is rather calm and often resorts to diplomacy to solve squabbles but isn't beyond handing someone their ass if need be. tsuyuri is playful, hard-working and mostly reliable (i say that because with the people she hangs out, ain't no way she gets out of shit with ease)

positive traits: caring, unconditionally generous, open-minded, responsible, rational, isn’t afraid to stand up for justice

negative traits: impulsive, stubborn, emotional, non-committal, mildly possessive

fear(s): water - due to an incident where she almost drowned, tripping while chasing a puppy down the bridge overlooking a river. thankfully, a nice white-haired stranger pulled her out by the scruff of her hoodie in the nick of time, saving her. he also gave her a lollipop which she took eagerly, since nobody said anything about taking candy from heroes.

favourite... -

food: yakitori and tonkatsu ramen

color: coral pink

animal: harp(white) seal

style: casual-comfortable. she always needs to be in something she can move around freely. most of the time, she wears her school uniform, a light brown coat/jacket over it and paired with leggings.

hobbies: playing the guitar, creating handmade gifts

relationships -

parents: unnamed mother, hanagaki tsuneo

grandparents: hanagaki tadashi & chiyo (paternal)

sibling: hanagaki masaru (twin brother)

relative(s): hanagaki takemichi (younger cousin); unnamed uncle and aunt

best friend: emma sano

likes -

causing chaos. she may look like an innocent and otherwise pacifying company but she thrives in ruckus and feeds off the hyped energy all around. in retrospect, she can and will cause a fight and make it seem like she was never there to begin with.

karate. tsuyuri and masaru were put in the sano dojo by their father. it was to get them into self-defense and not leave them unsupervised while he was busy at work. since he was a student there himself, he didn't worry about them getting in too much trouble. while masaru was always getting into fights and getting beaten up, tsuyuri loved it there. she would spend hours on end practicing the katas and perfecting her kicks. sure, she wasn't a prodigy but her dedication made her one of mansaku's best students.

cooking. from a young age, she had to learn to cook for herself and her family since her father was a disaster in the kitchen (that man could burn water) and her grandparents lived too far away to send daily meals. she doesn't mind and loved experimenting a lot. by the time she is a teen, she can make restaurant-style dishes with the correct recipe.

backstory -

In the timeline before Takemichi time-leaped, Tsuyuri had grown up just about the same way, meeting Baji and Manjiro at the Sano Dojo and remaining friends through Emma and their shared trainings. Her father being in the force as a detective left her alone for long lengths of time. When she wasn't in cram school or busy with karate, she'd do arts and crafts. It was shopping for one of those projects that led her to meeting Mitsuya in a cloth store. Later she would be present while Toman was formed, an honorary person just as much as her best friend, the president's sister.

Takemichi and her were never close and she found him standoffish so him running away—although it made her sad—did not affect her as much as Baji's death. She would try to carry on with her life, being a rock for both Sano siblings through Shin's death, a lot of their friends' demise and the gang falling apart and being corrupted.

Emma's death was the last straw for her to cut off all relation with her remaining friends, that being Mikey and Mitsuya. She went socially awol for a while, focusing solely on her studies, got through medical school with a surgeon's degree and became a well known doctor in Shibuya.

In the future, she would lose her job—the hospital firing her to save themselves—for standing up and speaking publicly against the disturbing occurrences resulting from gang skirmishes. But she wouldn't give up that easily, up until the day the police would find her with a bullet through her head, the scene meticulously staged as a suicide.

[countrymusiclover]

44 - Love is the most powerful magic of all

His Golden Princess

Thank you all for reading ❤️ This is the end of Astrid and Rumple's story

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @icefrye19 @lover-of-books-and-tea

Shooting awake up in the bed holding my stomach with my hands tightly. Frantically looking around I gasped. Fumbling over to my nightstand I dialed the first phone number I could think of. “Em, ah! I need your help. The baby…”

“Ast, what’s wrong?” Even though she wasn’t happy I used the sword to save her life and made her a Dark One she still cared about me.

It had been a few months since I had told her and Rumple the truth. Throwing my head back against the pillows I gripped the phone in my hand. “I think the baby’s coming. I….ohhh. I need Rumple.”

“I’ll come get you.” She said quickly.

Biting my lip I drew blood feeling contractions. My heart was beating faster. “Emma, there’s no need. I can just magic there….ah what the hell?” Looking down to my arm I gasped seeing some dark veins rising up through my veins.

“Astrid, tell me. What’s going on!” My sister declared through the phone hearing the panic in my voice. We could always tell the difference in the other person's voice when we were terrified. Before she gave birth to Henry I visited her in jail and could see she was horrified.

Tossing the covers aside I stumbled out of the bed. Standing on my feet I winced holding a hand over my heart feeling it burning in pain. "Emma, I need Rumple. Ohhh! Call - call Ella…call Ashley. Whoever she's going by. Cinderella!"

"Okay I'm calling her right now." Emma hung up where I stumbled down the stairs in my sleep clothes trying to not panic. Leaning against the wall I knew that Ashly or Ella would be there for me just like my sister.

Walking into Ashly’s hospital room Emma said I should be the one to tell her we convince Gold to let her keep her child. Shutting the door behind me I smiled seeing her holding her daughter. “Hey, how’s she doing. What’s her name?”

“Alexandra. Sean came to see her.” Her smile dropped thinking back to Gold and their deal. “Will he be taking her from me now?”

Sitting down on the edge of her bed I placed a hand on her leg. “Nope. Emma and I got him to let you keep her. My sister will owe him a favor but it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.”

“Thank you, thank you both so much.” She began crying, bouncing her baby girl in her arms.

Sending her a grin I tilted my head sensing she had more to say. “What is it, Ashly?”

“I noticed Emma, your sister said she had a kid. But you don’t. I just thought that if you ever have children I’ll be there for you.” The blonde grinned and we would later learn she was Cinderella. “You and Emma gave me a chance to raise my child. And that is something I will never forget.”

Sniffing through tears I didn’t expect that from the single mother. “Awe thank you, Ashly. I will remember that. You have my word.”

The blonde princess pulled up outside my house and her husband Thomas came inside seeing that I was holding my stomach. Throwing my head back I winced sharply. “Sean!”

“Did someone call a prince to the rescue? Come on, we'll get you to the hospital.” He wrapped his arms around my waist lifting me up bridal style carrying me out to his truck.

Ashly was in the front passenger seat holding her daughter in her lap. But she reached behind the seat taking my hand in hers. “It’s going to be okay. Emma said she is going to get Rumple.”

“Okay…” I nodded, biting my lip, shutting my eyes as we flee to the hospital which thankfully wasn’t far in the small formerly cursed town. Once we were there her prince came back with a wheelchair and the nurse got a room ready.

Laying in the bed I gasped seeing the dark veins making their way through my whole arm. I didn't know why it was happening but it had to be the reason I collapsed and saw my daughter in a future vision. “Ah Mrs. Gold. I am praying that this pregnancy I perform is actually normal this time.” Dr. Whale came into the room with a set of nurses.

“You and I both…urgh!” I bared my teeth down before the lights in the room flickered off and on like crazy. I had a blood pressure cuff on tracing my vitals that started sounding off like crazy.

Whale came over reading the level my heart was going. “Woah, that isn’t good. Your heart rate is way too low.”

“It probably has something to do with these.” Holding my forearm upwards he caught sight of the dark veins. I coughed some blood on my shirt when the door burst open and I saw my sister and husband. “Emma - Rumple!”

My husband rushed over to my bedside as quickly as he could with the limp and cane. He takes my hand in tracing his thumb over the veins that were growing my palms now. “Astrid, I’m sorry. There shouldn’t be this much stress on the baby. But don’t worry I’ll fix it.”

“Rumple ... .no you take the power back.” I gasped through tears seeing him draw the Dark One dagger from inside his suit jacket.

He shook his head clutching the dagger handle tightly in his hands. He began crying heavily where I could see his brown eyes welling with tears. “I can’t let the darkness kill you and our daughter. You are too important to me, lass. You are my heart and soul. If you die then I won’t have my happy ending. You have changed me to be a better man and know love when I didn’t think I deserved it. So let me take the power back please.”

“But if you take it back it will kill you, Rumple. That’s the whole reason why I took it from you….I don’t want to lose the man I love.” I sobbed heavily through tears clutching the bedsheets in my fingers. “Please don’t leave me, Rumple. I need you���.you are my life!”

He placed the dagger in my right wrapping his hand around mine where he winced shaking through the pain feeling how stronger the darkness had become in my bloodstream. “Then we will split the power between us. Together we share a heart. So we can share the power too.”

“How…I thought only one person could be the Dark One.” I croaked, squeezing his hand in mine beginning to feel more scared than before.

Emma stepped forward taking the dagger in her hands raising it up to the two of us all the while Dr. Whale was jumping standing there watching. “I found a way to control my light magic over the darkness that is keeping me alive. I know what to do. You have to each have light and dark magic inside of you.” She focused sternly on us before the dagger glows brightly and we both gasped.

Shifting my gaze to Rumple I saw he was watching me too. Suddenly the dark magic came outside of me and split into two separate strands. The magic shot back into our hearts and the same thing happened with my golden light magic. “That should work….oh my gosh.” My sister sighed with a smile.

“It worked, Rumple.” Leaning my head against his chest I sighed in relief intertwining my hand with his gently. His brown eyes watched the darkness veins disappear from my arms a few seconds after.

Dr. Whale looked at my screen showing the baby getting my legs up and open to push. “Now that your heart is good we need to get this baby out for ya.”

Rumple moved around to the side of the bed so I could hold onto his hand. The contractions started coming closer together when I gave my first few pushes. My heart started banging against my chest and I already felt tired. "It's starting to come out, Astrid. Just a few more big pushes." Dr. Whale said back.

Rumple winced sharply when I squeezed his hand even tighter. My freehand was turning white while I gripped the handle of the dagger. Sweat was sticking to my forehead with the white hair falling over my shoulders appearing to be a mess. "I can't do this, Rumple…I can’t!"

"Yes you can. Astrid. I've seen you overcome things that have been much harder than this. So I know you can do this." He replied, squeezing my hand in his even though I had nearly broken his hand at this point.

Nodding my head slowly I bared my teeth doing one final push that took the last of my energy that I had left. An infant's cry filled the room where I threw my head back onto the pillows. Gulping a lump down my throat I slowly controlled my breathing while the nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket handing them to me once I had sat up again. "Congratulations, you have a baby girl. Have you thought of a name?"

“No….ah what the hell!” I gasped, feeling more contractions breaking through my body.

Emma whipped her head around in panic. “Whale, what is happening to my sister?”

“It’s okay. Uh….she has another baby coming.” He dropped down in his rolling chair frantically getting prepared again telling me to push again. “You have to start pushing again, Mrs. Gold.”

Sucking in a breath Rumple squeezed my hand tightly knowing that I was beginning to panic rapidly. He pushed hair out of my face when I started pushing as much as I could. “Ahhh!”

“There it is. Congratulations again you two. You have a baby boy now too.” Dr. Whale held up the baby in his arms, handing it to the other nurse.

The nurses handed the girl to me and the baby boy to Rumple. He sent me a teary grin and I chuckled, not expecting that we would have two kids at once. “Rumple, I know the name for the daughter. Marigold Ella Stilskin. But you can name the boy.”

“Gideon Baefire Stilskin.” He declares leaning forward kissing me gently. Leaning into the kiss I smiled when he whispered back. “I love you, Astrid. I always will. You are my golden princess.”

Breaking the kiss we both stared down at the infants in our arms. No matter what we had faced, these little joys were all worth it. “I love you too, Rumple. You are my dark prince.” I would never forget that Henry bringing us here to break a curse changed everything for the better.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[i-writes-things]

I will make a deal.

I will be opening requests within the next day, and the last two stories in my inbox will be out by the end of this week!

[nichmeddar]

carlos sainz

𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗦𝗘𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨

paring: carlos sainz x fem!leclerc!reader

summary: you’re the twin of arthur leclerc . . . and you’re dating your other brothers teammate, though he doesn’t know that

request: carlos x leclerc!reader fic pleaseee! reader is arthur's twin and is secretly dating carlos

warnings: establish relationships, family fighting, jokes of assault | for everyone who sent requests, i am slowly making my way through them, i just have a lot going on so be patient 😚 merci

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and 80,321 others

yourusername waiting for the weekend

view all 124 comments

leclerc_pascale ma fille intelligente 😘

↳ yourusername merci maman ❤️

user1 she always slays

user2 cute and smart??

arthur_leclerc what’s got you so excited?

↳ yourusername not telling 🤫

user3 cutie ❤️

↳ yourusername miss you 😔😔 we need to do another study date

user4 what university does she go to?

↳ user5 berkeley. it’s in california

f1gossip

liked by user1, user3, and 132,045 others

f1gossip carlos sainz seen in california over the summer break. any idea who he’s seeing?

view all 132 comments

user1 doesn’t he have friends in cali?

↳ user2 i think so

user3 he looks good ❤️

user4 he’s probably just visiting because he can

↳ user5 i would too if i had a jet at my disposal

user6 do you know where in caifornia?

user7 this is actually so random 🤨

user8 he looks so lost all the time 😭😭😭

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and 102,995 others

yourusername weekend you ❤️

view all 145 comments

arthur_leclerc is that a man

arthur_leclerc who is that?

arthur_leclerc y/n

user1 arthur really panicking at the moment

↳ arthur_leclerc yes.

user2 you look so comfy in the second photo

↳ yourusername i was 😌

leclerc_pascale dis-lui que je lui dis bonjour 👋

↳ yourusername fera 🫡

↳ arthur_leclerc maman?

user3 . . . who’s that man?

yourfriend text me asap !!!!!!

poopy 👺

poopy 👺

who was that man

i have no idea what you’re talking about

poopy 👺

yes you do

i’m your post on instagram

there was a man

it could be one of my girlfriends who’s masculine???

poopy 👺

😐😐😐

no it can’t

none of your friends look like that

how do you know that 🤨🤨

poopy 👺

that’s besides the point

why are you hiding this from me? i’m your twin brother

exactly.

charles, lorenzo, and you (especially) scare everyone off

poopy 👺

no we don’t

what about ryan? or jack?

poopy 👺

they weren’t good enough for you

they never are!

maman liked them and i did too and you made them leave

poopy 👺

does maman know about this one?

yes. now leave me alone arthur, i’m happy for once

i’m not letting you guys ruin this

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 676,414 others

carlossainz55 quick recharge before heading back for some more racing!

view all 327 comments

user1 why did he in cali the time i’m not there 😭😭

user2 boyfriend material

charles_leclerc ready for another week!

user3 is that a woman???

user4 that is not a man’s hand in that last photo ‼️

user5 wasn’t expecting to see a soft launch today

user6 that last pic is so random but okay

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 141,034 others

f1gossip carlos sainz seen in berkeley, california with a mysterious girl. sources say the pair would very close and cuddled up with the other. any ideas on who the girl is?

view all 157 comments

user1 girl what

user2 really pulling out those dance moves 🕺🕺🕺

user3 that kind of looks like y/n leclerc…

user4 why is it so hot that he’s lifting her up like she’s a feather

user5 this is actually so random

user6 when did this start?

user7 doesn’t y/n leclerc go to berkeley university?

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, and 202,537 others

yourusername last photo is us waiting for arthur

view all 176 comments

arthur_leclerc i was not late you guys were too early

↳ yourusername 🤨🤨🤨

↳ charles_leclerc sure…

user1 where are y’all going now

↳ user2 probably the dutch grand prix? where else

user3 is arthur just chronically late?

↳ yourusername yes 😔

↳ charles_leclerc yes

↳ arthur_leclerc lies. all lies

user4 he really be kicking his feet

f1gossip

liked by user1, user4, and 123,084 others

f1gossip carlos sainz seen with the same girl he’d been with in california after the dutch grand prix. the couple was reported to be kissing and holding hands while out.

view all 137 comments

user1 who is she???

user2 they’re very touchy

user3 he looks like he doesn’t know what’s happening

↳ user4 he always looks like that babe

user5 you have to admit they’re cute

arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 351,180 others

arthur_leclerc it’s my twin sisters birthday! lucky to have you as a sister. happy birthday ❤️

view all 221 comments

yourusername i feel exposed and vulnerable

user1 stunnin since birth

↳ yourusername you know it 💅

yourusername thanks ig 🙄🙄

user2 THE GOGGLES

user3 gorgeous babes

charles_leclerc happy birthday little sis ❤️

↳ yourusername i’m still not forgiving you for the 3rd photo

user4 her and arthur were so cute as little kids ☺️☺️

↳ yourusername still are babe

↳ arthur_leclerc what do you mean were???

user5 iconic

leclerc_pascale joyeux anniversaire ma belle fille ❤️

↳ yourusername je t'aime maman ❤️😘

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 907,508 others

carlossainz55 feliz cumpleaños a mi bebé ❤️

happy birthday to my baby ❤️

view all 401 comments

yourusername merci my love ❤️

arthur_leclerc It was YOU?!?!

user1 i’m actually shocked

user2 was not expecting this

user3 my jaw is on the floor

charles_leclerc we have to talk

user4 the leclerc brothers are planning an assult

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ daddy playlist (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : f1 gird x leclerc! reader ( platonic )

summary: the leclerc sister causing havoc in the f1 driver’s life

tw : fluff; chaos, VERY SUGGESTIVE

fc : emma chamberlain

a/n : this was requested anonymously by an anon! I hope you like it and thank you so much for supporting me ! lysm 🫶🏻 the reader is gay, so don’t like it, don’t read it 🫶🏻 also, there are a lot of suggestive jokes, so please don’t read if you are uncomfortable

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norriz, albono, georgey and 78 others

babyn daddy's home chauffeuring these Lil girls

view comments

lordperceval wtf are you driving a Mercedes !?

lordperceval haven't I bought like 10 ferrari's for you ?

lordperceval even Lewis is leaving Mercedes

babyn calm down, brother dearest, it's georgey's

georgey shame on all of you for catfishing in my car

albono I AS WELL also own a Mercedes 🙏

albono norris, you better be careful in track, the fuck are you sending my ugliest pictures on the net

norizz oh come on, if you are ugly, you are going to be ugly

max1 and not like you don't crash every now and then

colawithice it's the Williams' fault

chillijr that's why I am replacing you

colawithice and that's why I am replacing checko ✅

babyn YOU ARE GOING TO REDBULL!?

babyn OH MY GOD

babyn REDBULL WILL HAVE MILFS

babyn BOTH OF THE DRIVERS ARE DATING MILFS

norizz or they just have mummy issues

max1 and you have height issues

colawithice height does not matter, it's the girth

hamsandwich it's the looks 💪🏻

georgey why do you follow yn?

babyn WHY WONT HE!?

kikagnome the whole grid follows her

babyn except the drivers without talent and daddy issues

peirreneedsgas then why is Lando following you ?

norriz mate, last time I checked, I WAS THE ONE COMPETING FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP

babyn and it was all too much for little Lando Norris

pastry we still are winning then constructors💪🏻

chillijr Ferrari will cover up

babyn only if they pass the radio in spanish from now on

georgey 😶

albono 😶

pastry 😶

lilyhye 😶

babyn LILY WHY WERE YOU OFFLINE

carmenvroom 😶

liked by lilyhye, kikagnome, alexmieux and 104 others

babyn the only man I would ever spread my legs for -

view comments

lordperceval you are not getting out of my sight anymore

lordperceval dare you leave the Ferrari garage

babyn I will go the McLaren garage

pastry oh fuck no, BIANCA IS NOT THERE FOR EVERY RACE

babyn 😔

max1 I will join you

babyn turning people gay since 01 💪🏻

babyn but before, give me Kelly

max1 you can very much take toto, thank you

kikagnome yn, babe stick to one person yeah ?

babyn stop flaunting your relationship with pierre

pierreneedsgas SHE DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING !

babyn your existence is enough

kikagnome why do I have you as my best friend again ?

babyn idk, sounds like a you problem

liked by norizz, kikagnome and 84 others

babyn SHE FUCKING LOOKED AT ME !?

view comments

norizz was it necessary to use me ?

babyn well yes, you are confused everytime

max1 thank God you will stay off Kelly now

babyn NEVER FROM MY FAV MILF

ollibear Bianca gave me her number

babyn TO YOU !?

olliebear what's so surprising ?

babyn YOU ARE WHITE AND YOUNG AND WELL A KID

olliebear YOU ARE WHITE TOO !?

babyn I AM MONEGASQUE

kingarthur sorry ollie, she failed her middle school

norizz she just looked

babyn itz the start of our marriage book, I have already made like 10 playlists

colawithice tell me you're gay without telling me you are gay

babyn you are LaTiNa

colawithice I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU

lordperceval every week, you tell me some other girl is going to my sister in law

babyn I WANT TO BECOME A WAG

kikagnomes ITS FRIENDSHIP GOALS CHARLES

pierreneedsgas wait what

babyn calm down french fry, you both only met because of me

hamsandwich please don't, we don't need another person on the grid with an age gap

chillijr I think being in the f1 world has a mandatory check of having an age gap relationship

albono ME AND LILY are very happy 😊

georgey so are we Carlos

rebecamour Carlos, I AM ONLY ELDER TO YOU BY ONE YEAR

chillijr I didn't mean it about us !!

rebecamour Aren't you an f1 driver !?

babyn he is not, he is unemployed

chillijr I am!! But we love each other and Y/N, STOP

babyn no one tells me to stop, I LOVE BEING IN COMMAND

chillijr Charles, control your sister

lordperceval Arthur, please do

kingarthur only maman can

hamsandwich well you could show this account to her ?

babyn ALL GOOD

babyn NO NEED

babyn I AM GAY AND HAPPY

babyn NOT SHARING ANYMORE

lordperceval I love maman

kingarthur so do I 😊

liked by pierreneedgas, kikagnome and 92 others

babyn Kika, the first girl who I fell in love with, the girl who taught me how to wear heels, the girl who taught me how to make my boobs look big ( you kind of catfished pierre..?) and girl who has been with me since we were thirteen. happy 21 my love 😗😗

view comments

kikagnomes finally I get some appreciation 🫶🏻😊

pierreneedsgas the only post I ever liked on this account

babyn says the man who got catfished

kikagnomes I AM NOT THAT FLAT

babyn OH PLEASE

kikagnomes WELL I HAVE A BOYFRIEND

babyn who will gladly lick the plate

kikagnomes PLATE !?

norizz this is the first time I have seen boobs being compared to plates

pierreneedsgas shut up norris

kikagnomes shut up lando !!

babyn love let's just continue on the gc ?

kikagnomes yes, I need to debrief as well !

pierreneedsgas debrief what ?

babyn how you only last like 3 rounds !?

pierreneedsgas HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW !? FRANSISCA !?

lordperceval 3 rounds is impressive !!

babyn not for an athlete

kingarthur sister, what more do you expect from a human ?

babyn like minimum 5 rounds ?

max1 Y/N, this is not a formula 1 race where you go for rounds with pitstops

babyn y'all are just old

hamsandwich it's not about being old !!!

babyn forgot there were 40 year olds who can't even do one round

colawithice you women don't know how hard is it to keep the hip movements going

georgey EXACLTY, WE HAVE MORE FLEXIBLE HIPS THAN SHAKIRA

carmenvroom ....

lordoerceval the silence says a lot more my mate

babyn Colapinto beans, I am more dominant in bed than you are begging to be rode

lordperceval EVERYONE TAKE THIS ON YOUR CHATS, Y/N, SISTER I HAVE NO INTEREST IN YOUR SEX LIFE

babyn also Charles, work on your stamina mate, can't even go 2 rounds without panting

lordoerceval !? ALEXANDRA !?

alexmieux ... yn, love meet me NOW

liked by kikagnome, norriz, colawithice and 134 others

babyn when mom asks what me and that girl are going to do on a sleepover

view comments

norriz at this point, you should sign up this account for onlyfans

lordperceval Lando, stop giving my BABY SISTER such ideas

babyn what makes you think I am not already there

kingarthur excuse me !?

babyn don't worry, I just sell your feet pics 😺😊

lordperceval the best investment from my money would be getting you a psychiatrist

colawithice give me some tongue tips

babyn milf not getting satisfied ?

colawithice you wish

chillijr telling your mom for future sleepovers

babyn telling reb about your Italy escapade

rebecamour Italy what !?

babyn nothing 🤭

rebecamour Carlos !?!?

chillijr nothing my love, she is just joking

chilijr STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FIGHT WITH HER !

babyn sorry, I just thought you liked mariella

rebecamour MARIELLA !?

norizz just informing that Carlos won't be online for some time because I saw him run after her in the paddock

pastry why are you so mean yn ?

lilyhye Mena in What?

lilyhye exposing an affair !?

alexmieux as she should !?

babyn loves, there was no affair

kikagnomes you nasty -

lilyhye those are some damn long fingers ...

babyn someone just expressed their desire @ albono

albono thank you very much and I can work on it without your interference

lordperceval why in the world have you put me there !?

babyn Alex is lucky you know ?

lordperceval what did mom even eat before giving birth to you !?

babyn dad

kingarthur Y/N !!!

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

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

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

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

word count: 21,858

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

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

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

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

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

Or to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon cries again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

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

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

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

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

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

“Open the boot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

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

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

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

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

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

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

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

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

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

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t respond. 

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

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

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

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, me too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

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

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

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

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

“The longest of my life.” 

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

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

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

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

“You’re disgusting.” 

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

“Shut up.” 

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

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[xiefuyu]

Brother, I'm here.

-- Kurokawa Izana x little sister reader

🖤 — Tokyo Revengers

📝 — spoilers from manga (around tenjiku arc), angst, mention of domestic abuse, mention of blood, mention of murder, mention of death

:a/n — I think I enjoy writing angst what do i do?? jk. hi, here's the third part. enjoy! (wc: 1.7k)

— PT. 1 / PT. 2/PT.3/PT.4/PT.5

Sano Manjiro stares at his hands. Droplets of blood and the feeling of them getting in his hands present. He felt responsible and god he did because how can he not know that he has another sibling?

Emma’s sobs broke him out of his trance and it was only then that he noticed Draken. “It..it was supposed to be me.” she cries out. “That Kisaki was about to hit me but she protected me and- and-”

“Emma, stop.” Draken softly stops her, heart aching at how the teenager is blaming herself.

But Mikey’s heart ached more when he realised that he almost had Emma dying on his back. Did that make him feel at least a bit of relief? No. Of course not. How could he when his another sibling is the one laying, holding onto dear life?

“I should’ve moved…I was there and I should’ve done something.” they heard Takemichi say but no one was blaming him. No one could’ve known what would happen at that moment except you who knew about your brother’s sick plan.

Mikey stands up, determined. “Emma, Hina-chan, stay here.” he commands and looks at Draken and Takemichi.

“We’re going. I’ll drag Izana here as if it’s the last thing keeping me alive.”

“Woah, how strong, Mikey! You’re here even after Emma’s death?” Izana asked with a wicked grin but Mikey could see it wavering. He could read those empty eyes; pleading and hope behind.

“What are you talking about, Izana? It was Y/N, our other sister who got hit.” he explains, frowning. “What…?” he hears Kakucho ask, breathless.

“What are you talking about?” he asked once again, stepping forward. “Kaku-chan, you know Y/N-san?” Takemichi asks, eyes widening. “Of course I know her! She’s Izana’s sister! What do you mean she got hit?!” Kakucho’s head whipped to where Kisaki was, blood boiling.

“She’s no sister of mine. I don’t know her.” It was the last thread that snapped loudly and hard as Kakucho stomped his way in front of his king. “She’s your sister, Izana! She’s Kurokawa Y/N!” he shouts, praying to whatever deity out there for his message to come across the kingdom that Izana built around his heart.

“How could you be so sure of that, huh? How could you be when you don’t even know that I’m blood related to no one at all?!” Mikey’s and Kakucho’s eyes widened. A simple huh coming out from their mouths.

Izana tells them how his mother told him that he’s just another son of her ex-husband with a Filipina and how he’s not Emma’s blood-related stepbrother.

But Kakucho wasn’t deterred, telling him that he should meet Y/N because she’s his blood-related sister instead.

A gunshot echoes throughout the bay, silence following.

“You’re so goddamn annoying!” they hear Kisaki say and for one moment, all Izana could think was Kakucho. 

And that set of eyes that he saw earlier.

Regret bubbles in his whole body and it moved faster than his brain could comprehend as he saw Kisaki getting ready for another shot.

Three gunshots were heard this time and Izana waited for the inevitable pain to rain upon him but none came. He didn’t fall nor did he feel a bullet making his body their own home. He looks up and sees Draken gripping Kisaki’s hand, gun pointed towards the sky.

Saved.

They were saved.

“Let’s go visit Y/N, Izana. And…you’re still our big brother.” Mikey says, bowing lightly.

And for the second time that day, the king falls from his throne and onto his knees. But this time, it came with emotions dripping from his lilac eyes.

The Yokohama conflict ended with one loss- Kisaki Tetta who was run over by a truck.

The beeping sound of the heart monitor was deafening. 

He did this to his sister, didn’t he? How sick and vile of him. Even though it was Emma who was supposed to get hit and die, he knows that everything was fucked up.

Kakucho had filled him with the information he got from you. He got informed that you knew he existed years ago and worked hard to earn money just so you could come to Japan and look for him. How you kept hoping to see him in every street you walked through.

How you’re looking for your big brother.

He was getting impatient. He wants you to wake up and look at that set of eyes similar to his. He was getting impatient but a voice stopped him.

Will she even accept you after what you did? After you turn your back on her?

His breath hitches and his hand longs to grip yours gently. Praying that the apologies lingering on the tip of his tongue will make their way through the tip of his fingers instead and flow into yours, interrupting you in your slumber.

He was getting impatient and he wants you to open your eyes because he wants to see them again. Because he knows there’s a possibility of you not waking up and how he won’t be able to stare back at another set of lilac eyes.

He stares at your limp hand and stops breathing altogether when they twitch. His gaze slowly racked over your form, settling on your face as he waited with bated breath for you to wake up.

But you didn’t and Izana visibly deflates, sighing before standing up to leave.

He doesn’t deserve you. You’re clearly a white paint in his black canvas and he doesn’t want your light fading.

So he does what he thinks is for the best.

Leaving you once more.

Your life wasn’t as eventful as the others. You have no experience of proper support- financially, emotionally, and physically.

Your stepmother was abusive; always taking her frustrations out on you that you got used to it. Your father doesn’t even spare you a glance while you’re getting beaten up. It was a common occurrence that it got you questioning if it’s normal in a household. (It’s not, you found out later.) Your stepmother did her best to make you think otherwise, after all.

Always saying that it’s for your own good and that she loves you that’s why she’s doing it. You were just a naive little girl new to the world you were brought in and believed in.

Not until you found out that everything in your household is fucked up. Your stepmother and father are fucked up in the head and are irresponsible shits that liked to neglect you. However, there’s a part of you that thanked your father for giving you an older brother even though it took him years to remember and finally tell you one day so casually.

With that knowledge, you found your purpose again. 

Older brother.

A kuya.

Oh how you always wanted an older sibling to take care of you. To baby you and to shower you with affection. You worked again and again despite the pity looks you got for working at such a young age. Were you ten? Thirteen? Fifteen? You’re not even sure anymore.

All you could think about was escaping your shitty household and meeting your Kuya.

That’s all you ever wanted and yet, nothing was ever free to you in this godforsaken world, no? Everything and everyone around you just looks at your expectations, takes them and throws them to the ground and stomps on it for an extra measure.

Maybe it was the price for being greedy for a family. The price for being selfish, not considering how your Kuya is living and proceeding to look for him and bother him with your presence, full of scars and bruises painted by a family.

You were longing and now you’re paying the price in the form of your pounding head and blurry vision.

Your eyes wander around the vicinity you’re in. You’re in a hospital, you figured. Right, you were hit with a bat in the head. Your Kuya Mikey brought you here, hand tugging yours away from death’s own ones.

You see Emma beside you, holding your hand as she sleeps. You notice her puffy eyes and apologise to her in your mind for giving her a scare. On the sofa a few feet away was a pink-haired girl, dozing off in Takemichi’s shoulder who’s also sleeping. You look to your right and see Mikey and another guy, almost bald, looking out the window.

They’re awake. You should call for them, right?

“Kuya.” you softly called out, Mikey immediately turning to you, eyes wide and full of relief. “Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?” you smile and do your best to nod a little. “Feeling fine.” how idiotic of you to think that Mikey will believe that.

He may have just met you days ago but he’s no fool when it comes to his siblings. 

“Izana is just taking a breather outside.” he says instead of further asking you to tell him the truth. Outside where he’s currently being looked for because he decided to be an asshole once again and disappeared on you.

And yet, somehow, you knew. 

You knew that Izana turned his back on you again but you can’t bring yourself to be mad. No, you are blaming yourself for his actions. You are worried because it’s currently dark outside and the possibility of him getting in danger was making your eyes tear.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed out quietly but it jolted Emma awake, making Mikey grab your hand, asking you what for while simultaneously telling you that it's not your fault and it's okay.

It's overwhelming. You want to hide, you want to run away. Is family supposed to be this reassuring? Are they supposed to be this gentle and soft? Are they supposed to wipe your tears away as they tell you over and over again that everything will be okay?

Are you supposed to feel this safe around a family?

You're too unfamiliar with these…things.

In a way, instead of being the white paint, you're the black canvas and your Kuya Mikey and Emma are the white dots, slowly spreading out with their gentleness.

Draken, Takemichi, and the pink-haired girl stood quietly, watching the Sanos reassuring you, heart aching.

Because you had to know.

You had to know that they’re not your family by blood.

And their heart aches because they’re about to rip away a family, a loving one, from you even though it still hasn’t reached your two delicate hands.

Kakucho stands outside the room with his bandaged body, tears gathering in his eyes as he vows to find Izana for you.

For the now two Kurokawa royalty in his life.

A/N: I'm currently enjoying writing this hahaha I hope you're enjoying the mini series, too, love <3

[ tag list: @bontensbabygirl ]

[fic-dumpster]

immiscible

Pairing: Cat hybrid!Sanzu x Hamster hybrid!Reader

Summary: You were not meant to be. Everything pointed to a disastrous outcome, but Haruchiyo Sanzu refused to let something as dumb as biology dictate his life. He wanted you and that was final.

CW: Hybrid AU, dubcon, PiV, oral (female receiving), mean Sanzu, possessiveness, typical cat behavior. Idk… lmk if I missed anything. Not edited and no beta.

Word count: 2.2K+

A.N: funny how this was inspired by Hamtaro and the pink panther. A very… unexpected crossover.

“Haru, stop bothering her!” Mikey’s voice boomed through the room for the third time.

You were hiding, again, under Mikey’s covers, attempting to stay as far away as possible from Sanzu who hadn’t been as welcoming as you were promised. You were told a good time awaited, but your current situation was not your definition of a good time.

Emma, Mikey’s sister and your owner, had to leave for a trip with her boyfriend and they left you under her brother’s care. You were against the idea, adamant about it. You cried and begged to be left alone or any other person available would do. But alas, nobody seemed to be able to besides Mikey.

Knowing the pink cat hybrid living under Mikey’s care was an ass, you knew It was a terrible idea. You were a rodent for crying out loud. A hamster hybrid. It was like trying to mix water and oil… an impossible task, and they expected you to share a living space with them for who knows how long.

Yes, you have been in Mikey’s place for less than four days and your life has been in danger more times than you can count.

Sanzu, the feline menace of this house, seemed to find joy in your little squeaks and chubby cheeks puffing even more every time he pawed at you; sending you back and forth to his entertainment. He was just doing that a second ago until you managed to escape and made a run for Mikey’s bed.

“Haru, let her go.” Mikey warned him with a stern voice, “she doesn’t like your games.”

Little did he know those weren’t just games for Sanzu. While you thought he wanted nothing more than to make a snack out of you, he had a whole other plan in mind.

Your small and round face peeked from under the covers and you instantly regretted your decision. Right there, looking straight at you with a wicked grin, was Sanzu. His green emerald eyes shined with mischief as he saw the scared look on your face.

“Ple-please, Haru… I-I do-don’t wanna play…” you stammered. Your heart beating wildly as you scurried deeper into the bed and away from the border where a crazed hybrid stood.

Have you ever tried to make a cat let go of his prey? Hardest thing to accomplish. Mikey knew that, but he also believed in his pet. Overall, Sanzu was harmless, according to Mikey. So when the only human in the room heard his pet hybrid promise to be civil. Well, Mikey believed him.

“I won’t do that again, I promise.”

To his credit, Sanzu didn’t chase you around anymore. There was no reason to run after something that was under his paw.

The first week passed by in a flash and you learned a few things. One of them was how Sanzu loved to see your attempts of scrambling away from him, whining every time he pulled your short puffy tail or yanked your whiskers. You saw the gratification on his face.

He would not leave you alone. So much so that he even gathered your things from the guest room and moved them to his. Mikey allowed such idea; believing in Sanzu’s excuse about hybrid bonding time or something.

Before bed, the cat hybrid would yank you against his warm body, wrap himself around you and nibble on your round ears; every time before bed it was the same, almost like a night routine. You would tremble under his arms, scared of becoming dinner if you made a wrong move.

Things got heated in the third week. Almost a month in and you had your fair share of questions about Sanzu’s behavior. He began to pin you down more often; growling and rubbing himself all over you. Grooming your neck and cheeks, for then to stay in that position for a while. Inhaling your scent and humming and purring in contempt.

Mikey just thought you two were finally getting along well and ignored whenever Sanzu dragged you into his room.

“Yeah, Emma. She’s doing fine. Haru is good company.” Mikey would always speak with reassuring words to his sister. Not lying, just telling his truth. “No need to take her to Takashi’s.”

As the phone conversation went on, in a different room your silent whines told a different story. The spiked tongue of Sanzu’s kept licking your skin, leaving it tender afterward.

“Heard that? You’re not going anywhere,” Sanzu rasped against your twitching ears.

The cat hybrid was ecstatic when he first heard the news from Mikey. You, the fragile little rodent, were going to stay with him? His prayers had been answered.

Sanzu couldn’t help himself, you were just too pretty for your own good. All shy and sweet with everyone else but him. You were a trembling mess whenever he prowled around you, his tail swiftly moving around your hips and legs got you squirming in place. He loved the special treatment you gave him.

The pink menace had begun to behave even weirder lately. Headbutts here and there, making biscuits on your tummy and chest which left you all hot and bothered, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. All smiles and hugs as your mind went from zero to a hundred in seconds. It all left you confused and dizzy at the end of the day.

For things to make sense something had to happen, right? Because such… affectionate behavior wasn’t normal. Well, a few days later when Mikey left to hang out with some friends; it did happen.

You heard a strange sound coming from Sanzu’s room. It was a very loud meowing, almost raw and it seemed painful; and as afraid of him as you were, you couldn’t just leave your only housemate alone if he was in pain.

With shaky steps, ears tuned in to the yowling, you made your way to his room. Stopping at the door, you saw your things still scattered around, but now a bunch of pillows and blankets also shared the space. As your eyes roamed through the room you finally spotted Sanzu. He was a sweating mess—pink hair sticking to his face, wild eyes unblinking and his face contorted in pain.

“Ha-haru? Are you ok—” But before you could say one more word, a strong scent invaded your nostrils.

It hit you with so much force that your eyes watered instantly. The smell was sweet; earthy and cinnamon-like but oh, so suffocating. You gagged and coughed at the burning sensation in your throat.

Suddenly, everything began to spin, but before your knees could hit the ground, you were swept off your feet. The sickly sweet smell surrounding you in waves—enveloping you whole. “S-stop! I ca-can’t brea-breath!”

“I knew you would come,” cooed Sanzu, completely ignoring your pleas.

He had you in his arms, carrying you towards the improvised nest made of blankets. Your body shivered, rejecting the aroma of a different hybrid. It was clear—compatibility? Null. Even your body’s biology refused to accept the idea of it.

Before you could gather your thoughts, you were being dropped on a soft surface and still, the potent scent kept mingling all your senses. Just as fast, he was on top of you; holding your hands above your head and leaning forward with his whole weight pressing down on you.

“You look so pretty… underneath me,” Sanzu sharply whispered against your temple. Nose caressing the border of your face as it traveled to your lips.

Nudging your legs apart with his knees, he nestled himself between them. Slowly but steadily grinding his hips against your clothed core. “You did this, you know? You made me go into heat, you little minx.”

“No! I didn’t know– didn’t mean to!” You whimpered—lips to lips, sharing the same air.

A whirlwind of thoughts passed through your mind. Guilt, fear, anger and… surprisingly lust. The more he rubbed himself against you, the more your body reacted. Your legs fastening around his waist, pulling Sanzu even closer which made the feline purr louder as your little squeaks mixed in between.

You felt the weight of his body—of his clothed cock constantly pressing on your entrance, humping, just rutting in place. Wetness had begun to creep in between your clothes

“We can’t do this, Ha-Haru…”

“You want me to stop?” Sanzu asked with clenched teeth but you shaked your head in denial, “Good, because I don’t think I would be able to…”

The feline eagerly pawed your clothes off, feeling a surge of giddiness born in his stomach. He was so close to you, he was finally touching every single part of you. Sanzu could practically taste the air charged with your arousal.

“You need me here,” he purred, lithe fingers dancing around your gushing entrance. “I’ll have a quick taste and you’re gonna be good and let me.”

Not soon had you felt his hands let go, ignoring his previous words, you tried to scramble away. On your hands and knees, you made a big mistake. Sanzu felt your cotton-like tail hit him in the face and it just made him latch onto you even harder. His hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you back and at the same time wrangling you back into your last position just to directly smash his face against your cunt.

A hollow scream erupted from your raw throat once you felt his tongue practically forcing its way in. His fingers digging into your skin, the force of his sucking lips and never had his tongue stopped moving inside you. You were ashamed to admit he felt too good, your bucking hips constantly hitting him but Sanzu didn't even notice. Too focused, too drunk on your hypnotic flavor.

A straight lick later and a moan of satisfaction from the pink feline had you in almost tears. “You were already wet enough, but I couldn't help myself. You’ve made me… a voracious beast.”

You felt his fingers open your lower lips, heat radiating from your center smearing his digits. You don't know when or how he discarded his own clothes but as your eyes refocused, you saw his skin almost glowing, radiating scorching warmth on top of you. Unhurriedly, Sanzu guided his cock inside, stretching your opening to mold him, to take him. You were so soft, so warm that it almost hurt with how sensitive his tip was.

“I promise to—fuck… aah— mount you properly next time,” he growled at the thought of having you—ass up squeaking for him again, “but I need to see your cute face right now.”

Sanzu hissed at the contact and gave a final push of his hips; entering you with force. In return, your face contorted at the intrusion, you were a squealing mess under him. The sudden action wasn’t as pleasant as the previous activity. Your insides burned as your walls tried to push the foreign object out. But Sanzu persisted, holding you in place as he slowly retracted and moved back in. Inch by inch of his cock with no hurry.

He repeated this action until he felt almost no restraint on your part. Your cute little cunt had finally gotten used to him. He went in and out smoothly and your sounds had changed to mewls and puffs of air—full of need. Your hands traveled from his chest to his shoulders, no longer trying to stop him. On the contrary, you were pulling him in, scraping his neck with a sudden need to have him closer.

The feline purred loudly as he absorbed the change in your demeanor. Your half-lidded eyes were calling to him. His words failed him, he couldn’t even tell you how good you felt. All that left his lips were groans and beastly sounds.

“Fa-faster, Haru!” You moaned out without shame. Gone was the timid little rodent.

His chest reverberated once again, an instant answer to your plea. His tail moving wildly behind him, his ear twitching at the sound of your voice. All his body automatically responded to your calling.

His hips hitting you with abandon. Your pussy lips are swollen from the constant friction.

“M-mine.” He heaved with furrowed brows; fingers gripping tightly at your soft and plush skin.

Sanzu wasn’t even sure he was speaking out loud, too lost in the overwhelming feeling of finally being buried deep in your heat. Nothing could take him away from you.

─────── · · ·

“Get your furry fiend away from her!” Emma was a red from rage, “Manjiro Sano! I am serious!

“He doesn't wanna let go!” Mikey looked over at his friend, Emma’s boyfriend, for help, “Ken-Chin, tell her!”

Meanwhile, Sanzu with flattened ears and a swatting tail had you under his body; hissing menacingly at the three humans trying to take away his mate.

Of course, you had tried to explain but your meek voice wasn't heard in the middle of all the shouting.

[venusbyline]

Taste ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 03, oct.

— pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fiancée!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: lactation

— summary: Hotch never felt horny seeing a woman breastfeeding. Until he watched his fiancée doing it.

— word count: 2.9k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 3rd day, female!reader, fiance!Hotch, lactation kink, breastfeeding, breast worship, fingering, light overstimulation, mention of Haley's death, Jack has a little sister, canon divergence. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @magnoliatrees-world @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a

— crossposting: AO3

Hotch swore to himself that he wouldn't get involved with anyone else after Haley's death. He promised for Jack's sake and his ex-wife's memory, he would try his best to stay away from any woman who could mean more to him than just a few nights of sex or random drinks at a bar. He swore he wouldn't love anyone again, much less allow himself to remarry.

That's until you came into his life.

The damn day he saw you at the hospital after one of his teammates was grazed by a bullet. You were working your shift as a nurse and seemed almost shocked by the number of BAU agents in just one room. But your eyes didn't take long to focus on him. Eye contact only lasted a few seconds until Reid interrupted the magical moment by asking you about the coffee machine not working properly.

Hotch looked straight into your eyes long enough to realize he was fucked up and all his promises were going to go down the drain.

It didn't take long until the simple memory to invade Hotch's mind frequently and he was convinced to find out more about you, profiling you. Prentiss and Reid said he was starting to obsess, JJ thought it was cute, and Garcia and Morgan made fun of him like he was womanizer. Deep down, everyone was also excited but wary by the idea of Hotch being interested in another woman after Haley's murder. This could be good for him and also traumatize him even more.

When Hotch started visiting a pub that you and your co-workers went to often after work, he tried to maintain an indifferent attitude every time he saw you, trying to convince himself that you two would just flirt and maybe fuck. Nothing more than that, something random and insignificant.

However, during a day when he was reflecting on his life, sitting at one of the empty tables and drinking whiskey, Hotch was surprised to see you sit down with him, without even being invited. A sweet smile on your face as you began to strike up a conversation, even though he was clearly perplexed by the fact that you had already noticed his interest in you — no matter how obvious it was to anyone who saw him always watching you.

Two years later, Hotch still had difficulty admitting how much he loved you, feeling like it could be a weakness to him and a danger to Jack, you and his new child. The baby named after the protagonist of The Silence of the Lambs.

"Jack told me that Clarice was crying a lot today..." He said as soon as he came your room after putting Jack to bed, admiring you sitting on the double bed with some pillows behind your back, cradling the little thing in your hands while you breastfed her at the same time.

"Oh, it was just colic." You gave him a soft smile. "But she's better for now. Jack's such a good big brother to Clarice, he helps me a lot to take care of her."

Hotch smiled slightly, knowing how much his oldest son was enjoying having a little sister. Jack was such a sweet boy that sometimes he found himself wondering if he really deserved to be his father.

Jack was an incredible son with an incredible mother. And now Hotch also had an amazing little daughter and an amazing fiancée. With each passing day, insecurities and fears hit his mind hard to the point that he even became lost in thoughts during his own work at the BAU. "What's wrong, Hotch?"

Your question caught him off guard and he clenched his jaw. You could still read him as well as the first time you spoke to him in the pub. "Nothing's wrong."

You rolled your eyes, cradling Clarice a little more slowly now that she seemed to be starting to sleep. "Oh, please. I know you very well at that. It's pretty clear from your frown that you're worried about something." You teased him and it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Just tell me. Keeping everything to yourself will make you explode someday."

Hotch huffed, always hating the idea of opening himself up to anyone, even if you were his fiancée. On the one hand, he wanted to keep you in the dark about the vulnerability he was trying to hide, protecting himself from any judgment or see a look of pity on your face. But on the other hand, he just wanted to not pretend to be strong and invincible for at least a few minutes.

"I'm just thinking about some things, that's all..." He swallowed, the trembling voice exposing him more than his words.

You frowned, caressing Clarice's thinning hair before looking at Hotch. "Well... I'd like you to tell me at least one of them."

Hotch snorted again, but the attempt at indifference failed miserably when he looked at Clarice, still feeding on your breast. "She's looking more like you every day." He smiled, articulating his right index finger so he could caress her chubby cheek with his middle knuckles.

You smiled at Hotch, before raising an eyebrow when you noticed his gaze straying to your breast for a considerably long time. "That's very disrespectful, you know? I can't even breastfeed my own baby without you being a pervert?"

His eyes widened, immediately stopping and looking at you embarrassed to explain, sighing with a little frustration when he noticed that you were just playing with him. "Damn, angel..." He rubbed his face to hide his frightened expression, but also to distract himself from that unusual thoughts. "For a second I thought you were angry."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Why would I be angry seeing my fiance horny?"

Your teasing made his face turn red and his cock started to feel tight in his work pants. "I'm not...I'm not horny. This is ridiculous. You're just breastfeeding."

His effort to look uninterested by the sight made you laugh again, as you looked at him with your eyebrow still raised. After a few seconds, you checked if the baby was already sleeping enough so you could burp her and go put her in the crib. Then you fixed your nursing bra and turned to Hotch with a playful smirk. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

Your words weren't a random joke, much less a common warning. You were flirting with him, teasing him, warning him that the matter wasn't over and you would come back to learn more about that curiosity that was burning his brain. He watched you leave with Clarice in your arms and go to her room.

Hotch sat down on the bed, the tie starting to tighten around his neck just as his cock was already hurting from being trapped in those damn underwear. He untied the bow with a little more agony than usual, taking a deep breath as he threw the fabric anywhere on the floor. He wasn't worried about organization for now, focused on trying to understand why he was suddenly so turned on.

Okay... He had seen your breast, something he clearly loved to admire at any time possible. But he never got horny seeing you breastfeeding his daughter. Just as he never got horny when Haley was breastfeeding Jack too. In truth, Hotch had never thought of breastfeeding as something rousing and erotic to watch.

Until those few minutes before.

"There... She's sleeping like a little angel." Hotch almost jumped at the sound of your sweet voice returning to the room, locking the door behind you.

Hotch cleared his throat, pretending not to know exactly why you locked the door. It was a rule not to lock the door at night for the children's safety in case something horrible happened. You only did this when both of you wanted a moment alone. "Well, it took you less than ten minutes."

You shrugged nonchalantly. "She went back to sleep quickly."

He nodded silently, placing his hand in his own lap so you wouldn't see his boner growing more and more, even though he knew you had already noticed it since you returned to the room.

"Lactation kink is more common than it seems." You said and Hotch almost choked due your blunt way.

"What? Where did you get that from? I don't... I don't have a lactation kink. That doesn't even make sense." He exclaimed, his frowning face turning red for a second time as he tried to press down on his boner to hide yet another twinge he felt.

You held back your chuckle, but not for long. The moment you sat on the bed next to him and watched how the grumpy man was struggling to hide his desire, you let out a brief giggle, but it was enough to hurt his ego. "That's not funny."

Despite everything, you nodded, not wanting to upset him further. The realization that perhaps this was the first time he could be feeling that specific kind of desire hit you hard, and you felt a mixture of pride with yourself, but also a huge excitement that you hadn't felt since the pregnancy.

"I know, baby..." You reassured him, smiling slightly at him now. "But you don't need to hide from me either. We agree not to keep secrets from each other."

Your sentence had more than one meaning and Hotch knew it. He shouldn't lie to you, either about his own fears or about what he was wanting at that moment.

Hotch took a deep breath, deciding to start slowly. "Maybe... Maybe I'm horny."

"Seeing me breastfeeding?" You asked to be sure, but without any hint of judgment.

He nodded, clenching his jaw as he looked away, before holding his breath when he felt your hand caressing his thigh through his dress pants. "Hey... Look at me, Aaron."

Almost a minute passed before he worked up enough courage to look into your eyes. He felt pathetic inside. How could he deal with criminals every day, but not be able to receive a touch on his thigh from you without feeling like a stupid teenage virgin?

"Do you wanna... Taste it?" Your suggestion made his dark eyes widen as if you were saying the most unexpected thing he'd ever heard. "I'm serious, Aaron."

"Taste your milk?" He frowned. However, you knew he wasn't offended, but rather embarrassed with himself for even considering that. Everything was driving him crazy... the memory of you breastfeeding, his vivid imagination, your hand remaining caressing his thigh. Aaron felt like he was going to explode. "Hmm... Maybe."

You smiled when he gave in a little, knowing that his lust was speaking louder than any self-loathing he was feeling. Without waiting for him to think better and maybe change his mind, you adjusted your body on the bed, leaning your back against the headboard, while your legs were stretched out and comfortable. You smirked, pointing to the other pillow, indicating to him to get comfortable too.

Your command made his cock throb. As he obeyed, lying down in place, he felt a sigh of pleasure escape when he realized how much closer your bust was to his face in that position.

"It's a good view..." He muttered, fighting his pride.

You bit your bottom lip. "Oh, really?" You took your hands to your bra, removing it completely and watching Hotch's breathing hitch. "And now?"

"Angel... You're such a tease." He watched your breast for a few minutes, feeling his mouth water with the uncontrollable need to taste you like that. He moved his large hand to one of your mounds, biting his lip as he gently squeezed the soft flesh, barely holding back the groan that escaped by a strangled way when some milk splashed on his shirt "Fuck..."

You couldn't help but whine too. The feeling of his slender fingers groping your breast had been great, but it was the hunger in his eyes when your breast milk splashed out that made you start to feel desperate. "A-Aaron... I want you. I want your mouth."

"Oh, do you want my mouth, angel?" He scoffed, going back to caressing your breast, but now with one hand on each one. "And where do you want my mouth? Here?" Hotch questioned teasingly and leaned in, brushing his lips against the skin of your neck, feeling you shudder when he licked it and grazed his teeth afterwards.

He waited for your answer, but you just shook your head. It was good, of course. However, it was far from what you really wanted.

"Oh, no?" He feigned surprise, looking into your eyes now desperate for more. Hotch then smirked and stood up enough for you to be face to face. He moistened his lips, noticing the way your gaze fell there immediately. "Here, maybe?" Hotch teased, capturing your mouth in a slow but intense kiss. He tasted your lips as if they were heaven, delighting with the pleasure of dipping his tongue into your mouth and feeling your tongue too.

Then you moved your face away, panting for air. "No. More..." You whispered, lips red and swollen from the kiss.

He laughed lightly. "More? You're so greedy, baby..." Hotch scoffed, thinking about stopping the teasing, but an idea popped into his head, lowering his face until he was close to your breasts again. One of his hands kept caressing one of them, his long fingers playing with your nipple wet with milk.

However, his right hand let go of your left breast, making you whimper with confusion. "Why did you stop? You're so fucking... Oh!" You moaned, your eyes widening when his fingers got into your panties. "H-Hotch..."

Your moans made Hotch smirked, as he rubbed your clit slowly, enjoying how wet your pussy already was. "Is this where you want my mouth, baby?" He said, rubbing a little slower to get some verbal reaction from you.

"Not yet... Not yet." You managed to whisper as he slowed down, afraid he would completely stop rubbing your needy bud.

Hotch scoffed. "Wow, my future wife's a spoiled and needy little whore...." He went back to interspersing the movements of the hand that pleasured your pussy with the hand that caressed your heavy breast. "How about here then?" He blew lightly on your left nipple that was without his attention. "What do you think, angel?"

You almost whimpered at that teasing. It was obvious what you wanted and it was obvious Hotch was desperate for it too. Meanwhile, Hotch liked to hear you ask him. Beg him.

"Y-yes, please..." You pouted sadly as he chuckle, finally bringing his mouth, licking the sensitive nipple and making you moan his name, his soft tongue tasting the light drops of milk that flowed through contact. "S-suck... Please, Aaron, I need you to suck my milk."

Hotch lifted his face to look at you, doing as you asked. His mouth closed carefully around your nipple, making a gentle sucking motion, his eyes widening as much as you did when a favorable amount of milk came on his tongue, making him swallow with surprise before keeping sucking.

You felt the movements of his hands faltering, his mind going into a frenzy as he heard you moaning desperately each time he sucked you like a hungry baby. Your entire body had been needy since giving birth, but your breasts... They had become a powerful and fragile little thing at the same time. They were always sensitive due to continuous breastfeeding. Hotch had never given you pleasure there since Clarice was born, too busy taking care of you two and Jack, in addition to always having his mind stuck on work. Besides, neither of you have had much time since then.

However, you knew it wasn't just because your breasts were sensitive or the fact that both of you had been deprived of sex for a while. It was the incredible feeling of having Hotch suckle on your milk, seeing him desperate for every drop.

When he closed his eyes to focus on sucking and enjoy the slightly sweet taste of breast milk even more, you began to tremble your orgasm getting closer. His fingers kept rubbing your clit while the other fingers played with your free nipple, but it was the sight of him with his eyes closed and sucking your milk that made you cum, moaning his name breathlessly and wetting his fingers with your release.

Hotch smirked as he noticed the real reason for your orgasm. He opened his eyes, nibbling on the tip of your breast and stopping fingering you so as not to prolong your overstimulation too much after you whimpered in slight discomfort when it all started to get too much. "That was more amazing than I imagined it would be." He murmured, tongue still busy licking you.

“Too amazing, actually…” You teased, moving his lips away from your nipple. "You better save some drops for Clarice."

He chuckled at your joke, feeling you run your hand over his chin, wiping away the drops of milk that had run down, gently licking your own fingers.

"Thanks for not judging me, angel."

The sweet words made you smile, and you stroked his hair tenderly. "I would never do that." Your gaze dropped to his boner, even bigger than before. "And I'll help you with that if you promise to tell me about what was plaguing your mind earlier."

Hotch rolled his eyes sarcastically, looking at you with a frown and a small smile on his face. "Okay... That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make then. But just this once."

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[eclipse-rain]

TR ; Yin and Yang : Part 2

☆☆☆

Warnings; Pronouns : she/her, Slight manga spoilers, TW : ¿slight? angst, Tense you/your

Part 1 •Part 3

Masterlist~

You never knew your biological father.

You think you werent suposed to ever find out anything about him.

You think they tried to shelter you.

Your mother and brother did.

To keep it from you like they did with so many other things. Shelter you from the outside world that the eyes and ears of a child are not ment to yet witness.

You heard your mothers husband, your brothers father, had an affair with another woman. That was how your younger non-blood related sister was born.

You wondered why that happened.

Why he had an affair with a woman other than your mother. Why he would do such a thing since mother really seemed to love him so much.

Than again you were never told how you were brought into the world either.

How you came to be.

It had to have happened before he cheated on mother considering you were older than his daughter, even if it was only by a couple months.

Although, even after considering your similarities to that sister you didnt think you were brought into the world quite like how she was.

You didnt think she was born out of love like how you thought shin and his younger brother were. But you also thought that the reason she was born wasnt the same as your reason for birth either.

Which begs the question once again.

Why were you born?

Why didnt she throw you away?

Your mother.

Why didnt she get rid of you?

Out of a sense of responsibility?

They were right.

You knew they were.

When they had said everyone would have been better off if you were never born.

And your mother and brother tried to keep that from you. To shelter you from the truth. But even if you hadnt found out that day, before you even knew the meaning behind those words you were hearing, you probably would have found out one way or another.

Your mother loved your brothers very much.

She even loved their sister who was not her own.

But did she love you?

Could she have?

I mean could she really have?

When you grew old enough to finally comprehend and understand you came to a conclusion.

You didnt think you could have if you were in her position.

So you always asked yourself those two reoccurring questions.

'Why was i born?'

And,

'Why didnt she get rid of me?'

I guess the time had just finally come.

At the worst time when you finally dared to have hope.

You were cast aside.

You were thrown away.

Like you were always ment to be.

You had fooled yourself too long on the delusion of hope. Hope for a better future, for a better life in this world.

Mabey it actually gave you a bit of relief like how it did when your mother died and you thought you no longer had to be kept on the edge of uncertainty, of unknowing. A scared child who finally didnt have to stay strong anymore.

Or so you thought.

You were taken away in that black car and away from any dream, any hope, of a regular life with a normal happy family you had at that time.

Now you had two new questions to answer.

What was your purpose in life?

And where would you go from here?

Unfortunately, though, you didnt know if it was unfortunate for yourself or everyone else, you could now only see one direction that would point you in the direction in which might answer those questions.

And that was down.

Down the wrong path.

The path of darkness.

The path of no return.

Or so they say.

Who's they?

You weren't really sure.

You didnt think anyone was really sure.

No one really knew.

But people fear the unknown.

They fear the darkness.

The embodiment, the physical apperance of the unknown in this world.

Not you though.

You would embrace it.

You had to.

Or it would consume you too.

Then mabey embracing it was like sentencing yourself.

But if that was the case than at least it was the first thing in your life that you had control over.

And you would do anything in your power to keep it that way.

To keep yourself from ever again feeling the powerlessness of those days in which you could do no more than watch as your life was debated right in front of you and you couldnt do or say a single thing to stop it.

When your life was thrown around in front of your eyes carlessly like you were a rag doll. A side character in a story getting in the way of the main characters happiness.

Like you were a doll who was only ment to sit still while her body was moved for her. Her arms and legs repositioned and her face painted on like a mask.

A mask to cover the fact that while she was beautiful on the outside, on the inside she was only hollow.

That she didnt have a soul.

So to keep yourself from ever being thrown away again you would put a lock and chain around your heart and build up the walls of the barrier that had long been forming behind your mask.

You would throw yourself down the path of darkness.

Of tranquillity.

Of refuge.

The only refuge left in this world for you.

You, who had finally been cast aside after being kept on the edge of your seat, on the edge of that pirate ship plank, would take the plunge into that icy water below, into that unknown.

So you would no longer have to seek out those things, for if you let the power to have those things rest in other peoples hands to hold over you it could strike a fatal blow.

A final blow.

One you could not return from and if that would be the case you would rather the finishing blow be by your own hand.

That even if it was in your last moments you would be the one to have control over your own life.

Of course this change didnt happen straight after you were taken away in that black car.

No, no. It didnt happen until two years later.

You had not been so weak willed that you could not retain sanity or understanding or compassion for the situation you and your older brother were in. You had done it many times before.

Fought down your own feelings to please others. Why talk when you could say something wrong? Why breath when you shouldnt be alive in the first place?

'A waste of space' they told you. Live like your dead so you dont bother those around you, thats the least you could do.

And so you would do that once again, although it didnt bother you as much when it was for your brother. Yes, your feelings were hurt but you could understand, couldnt you?

There were responsibilities, there were priorities. So you could push your own feelings aside to not be a bother or a hinderance of any sort. And if you werent a priority for your older brother than you couldnt do a thing about it. Of course this was all just your thought, the way your mind worked, the thoughts that were always flowing without end.

It was another thing in your life that you had no control over. But you tried your best to do so and so you pushed everything as deep in your heart as you could, put everything on the highest shelf so you wouldnt have to face it.

You chose to remain ignorant so that you could keep your older brother even for a little longer. Only, you didnt know how little time that would really be.

You think it actually all started, your decent into the unknown, when locks of your hair fell like those flower petels withering.

Those flower petels, the ones from the flower you layed at the side of your mothers picture.

They withered as time went on.

And so did you.

They say time heals all wounds.

The same 'they' that are afraid of what they dont understand and so in their hardest efforts not to face the truth they make the most practical understanding they can for themselves.

So they can stay ignorant in their own little bubble without having to face the outside world.

Mabey thats what you were doing too.

Creating your own little bubble.

Mabey you were just like them.

Or you would have been, if that bubble hadnt been popped.

Mabey you could also have been blissfully ignorant.

But that chance had long passed you by and the most ignorance you had instead were the four walls of the barriers around your heart that time had also built up. As well as the walls of the orphanage where you were forced to grow up.

The dull damp grey walls that looked like they would blow apart if there was a strong enough wind.

The walls of the orphanage, not the ones around your heart.

No, no, those ones had been built far sturdier, time had been kind to them and done them well, at least thats what you thought.

More hair fell.

Lock by lock you got rid of one of the cursed key features that made you be abandoned by your brother, to you, hacking off as much as your could without mangling your face.

Of course after your mother died and you were abandoned by your older brother there was no adult left to take care of you, shelter you, so naturally you would be staying right you always had been.

In that damned orpahnage.

Though now you thought that if you were going to say goodbye to that same brother, whatever feelings you now held, which even you couldnt quite discern, you should at least not look the same as when he had last seen you.

The last time you had seen him alive which was also the time he had abandoned you.

And mabey for that reason. Your damned appreance. Your damed hair which you hacked off in an effort to pretend like you were actually doing something useful to relieve your anger.

You thought back to that time. The time you last saw him.

No, not the time after your mothers funeral. Not the time you were taken away in that black car by another social worker and back to the orphanage instead of to a warm and happy house with your brother.

But two years after.

Just a little while before the accident that permanently ment you would never again get to see your older brother.

It happened on a day much like the day of your mothers funeral, another day in the pouring rain.

Only this time you had been the one who chose to walk away from shin instead of being taken away from him forcefully.

You heard that hair holds memories.

So that when a girl gets broken up with thats why the first thing they do is cut their hair.

To get rid of the memories, good or bad, to start anew.

To be reborn.

The same could be said here, only when you were done and the slight cuts on your fingers bled from where you were careless with your scissors, you seemed to have replaced one dead face with another.

A newer ghost of a person.

Now instead of the last one you had buried you looked like one whos blood had only recently been spilled. Whos body was basically still warm.

And whos funeral you had been preparing to somewhat attend.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, the way your hair now hacked off into shorter pieces fell around your face, shaping it, made you look strikingly and sickeningly like your older brother, Shinichiro.

The one who now lay in that casket instead of your mother.

Of course he had also looked like your mother.

You both shared much the same face as her, you had heard that his younger brother also had a strong resembalance to her.

You recalled how your mother and even shinichiro had loved your long hair. Your mother would often spend time brushing the soft locks as she sat in her hospital bed with you sat close in front of her body.

She would praised it by saying how beautiful you were and shinichiro would chime in saying you took after her as you would agree and giggle at the compliments you were given.

She would sit and brush it all the while you both talked together in the hospital. And then when ever you would leave and return to the orphanage you often felt a sensation, almost ghost like, of a hand, your mothers hand as she stroked the top of your head.

Then your mind would immediately switch to how shinichiros much bigger, stronger, hand would roughly pat the top of your head with his calloused fingers from working on the bikes in his mechanics shop daily.

Then the question of why you were at the orphanage at all would continuously pop into your head.

Why did shinichiro and his little brother get to live with their grandfather while you lived in this place. Even their little sister lived with them as well.

You had heard that she had previously lived with her mother and her mothers husband but shin had taken her in to live with him when she was three.

This you had not heard from shinichiro or your mother like the other bits and pieces you heard from them about your other siblings. This, you were told by someone diffrent but also in much the same situation as you.

You wondered why emmas mother was willing to let her live with shinichiros family when she already had a family and why didnt your mother, who knew you didnt have any other family, let you live with them as well.

Were you missing something? Were they keeping something from you like they always were? Trying to shield you again? Or was it all just a misunderstanding, a mistake?

Was it because they all shared the same dad while you had no blood relation to him. Their dad had been their grandfathers son so perhaps that was the case. You were only the child of his son's wife so could you really be allowed to be part of their family.

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

You saw your older brother staring back at you.

Your eyes had always looked rather lifeless, creepy even, you had been told by others, but now even more so.

No matter how hard you tried then you couldnt recall what it was like to cry.

Or when the last time you had cried was.

You hadnt shed a single one at even your own biological mothers funeral.

Your eyes remained bone dry, no tears would flow.

Not now, not then, not since a long time.

You had heard that shinichiros younger borther had the opposite problem.

And that he thought it must have stemmed from the conversations he had with his mother. The start of his dream to be strong, to protect.

The conversations about his father in which he recalled the only memory he had of the man before he died. That was of a little superhero action figure and what it ment to be strong.

'Mikey had always tried his hardest to be strong' - like those memories, you had been told.

He always tried his best not to cry. But you, you had the oppsite problem.

You couldnt cry anymore.

No matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much you tried to make the tears come out, your eyes remained dry.

And your heart remained void.

Another memory had started to resurface but you forcefully pushed it away when you heard a noise behind you.

When you turned that person seemed to have just seen your face properly. It was also their first time seeing you with your hair cut short.

You knew then, by the look on their face, that you werent the only one who thought you looked like your older brother.

Like Shinichiro.

"You're not going to the funeral...are you?" You asked in a monotone voice.

You caught the hint of a grimice when you looked him in the eyes, much like how shinichiro had done when you had started to look a bit too much like your mother after her passing.

You stared at the man who had returned back to the dazed look on his face seeming as of he were a million miles away. The man who chose to ignore you as you didnt get a responce to your question but you didnt need one, you knew the answer. You knew he would not be going.

You would once again have to walk up that aisle alone. There would be no hand to guide you this time. You knew shins death had hit the man hard, as it did you. You suposed you just were able to hide it better since hiding your emotuons was something that you had long grown accustomed to doing. You also knew that was most likely the reason he was not going to his funeral and also because of the last interaction this man had with your older brother.

One you had unfortunately been present for. One which unfortunately had also been your last interaction with shin.

At that time you had once again been made witness to the broken trust of another person. Witness to the lies and the heartbreak. To both sides of the story and the unfareness of the world.

Something you were too young to have already witnessed countless times before.

And when your that young and someone who has never yet learned how to rest and been witness to such betrayal, the lines get skewed.

Good and bad. Morals and empathy.

You learn from the wrong person, witness the wrong things and suddenly your walking a whole diffrent path wheather you mean to or not.

You had blocked that out as well, when your vision had been blurred, the lines turned askew. As many seemed to do as a coping mechanism.

Maybe it started at your first betrayal mabey at your last. Mabey it was when your mother died or the conversation you had had with her just before her health went downhill for the final time.

The conversation that would never leave your mind no matter how much you wanted it to.

The day when your mother had taken a turn for the worst in the hospital and you knew the end was near.

That day when the rest of your astranged family all gathered in the hospital as you peered at them from around the corner of one of the white hospital walls.

Those two siblings that you had never before met and their grandfather who knew of your existence and often sent you small presents on your birthday or get well wishes through shin whenever you fell ill but who you had never personally met either.

And shin stood in the middle of them all as you peered around the corner at him hoping he would spot you as you had come looking for him.

The news had just been shared. Your mother was dead and they were just about to go into the room to see her lifeless body laid out on the hospital bed where she spent the last years of her life.

You had yet to see her but you had been with her when she had taken a turn for the worst.

You were the one who alerted the nurses and made the call to your older brother about what had happened before the hospital could.

You had yet to see her lifeless body but you didnt want to, you couldnt, not when you had been the last one to see her alive.

You could hear the crying of a young girl from inside the room and you watched as a moment later a blond haired boy who looked much around your own age stormed out of it and veered towards the staircase before decending down them.

That must have been shins younger brother. The one who was so hung up on the idea of being strong. You wondered then what his idea of strength was. If he could cry without restraint in a house where he didnt have to be strong to survive. When he could rely on other people, the people around him, his loved ones and the ones who loved him back and if he couldnt than his only barrier was himself.

Like yours was, like your is.

Although you hadnt started to build barriers around your heart until a while later.

But you already know how that part of the story goes.

A minute later shin also came out of the room. His head turned in all directions around the hall. He was probably looking for his younger brother who had left the room a little while before him, you had thought at that time.

And mabey he was or mabey he was really looking for you. You didnt know and you didnt want to find out so that if the answer was one you didnt like you wouldnt have to bury your feelings once again like you always did for those around you. For the sake of happiness for everyone else even at the cost of your own.

"He went that way" you said as you pointed a small finger in the direction of the stairs in which Manjiro, Shins younger brother had decended.

Shin had stopped when you said that. You expected him to turn and go in the direction you had pointed to, to follow and console his brother but he only stared at you.

You had stayed in your position hiding behind the corner of the hospital wall when you had spoken, only showing half of your body. Shin started to slowly walk over to you and you backed behind the wall more. So that you would both not be seen together if anyone were to leave your mothers room and venture into the hall or if his brother were to walk back up the stairs that also led to it.

He turned the corner to follow you and now with you both behind the wall he was standing in front of you as you both stared at each other neither knowing what to say.

What could he say in this situation. He didnt know. He was the adult. Ten years older than you who was only two months older than Emma. Making you thirteen months younger than Mikey. You were still a child and you had just lost your mother.

The only parent you had and the only other person you had with you all your life other than him. What could he possibly say except...

"Im sorry" he murmured as his voice cracked holding back tears.

"I'm so, so sorry" he repeated as he knelt down on the hard white tiles of the hospital floor in front of you and wrapped his arms around your much smaller body.

You could do nothing more than stay still as he hugged you. It hit you then. Your mother was really dead this time. There was no going back from here.

You couldnt move. You couldnt cry. You couldnt think.

It was a rush of everything and nothing all at once.

So you just let him hold you.

You let yourself rely on him.

And that was the worst mistake you could have made.

But you couldnt stop yourself.

And in that moment you didnt want to stop yourself.

Right then all you wanted was to fall into his warm embrace.

You wanted to soke in your amazing older brothers light and reminisce in all the memories you had with your mother that you would never have again and that you could never make more of.

But that embrace he gave you spoke to you.

It told you kind words.

Words that said 'its going to be alright'.

And just for a little while...you would let yourself believe that.

☆☆☆

If i accidentally delete one more of my drafts i will have a mental break down and you will be made hear about it 👹.

@rianemorgan @kazuhabrainrot @night-shadowblood-writes2

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hi yall

I am going on a little trip. It’s an 8 hour drive on Thursday and Sunday soooo….. if anyone wants to send requests for The boys or gen V women that’s like would be awesome. Because I’ll have so much time on my hands. I plan on finishing my Victoria one while we’re driving and posting when I get to the hotel. Also I love getting requests so it would really help pass the time. Thank you gay people 😘😘 my requests are open!!!!