#endless sky au

[wisteriavines]

Endless Sky

katekyo hitman reborn/fairy tail prompt:

Your heart is magic Pure and tragic Just like mine, but you can have it Now until forever, not alone

⎯ Katherine Ho, Kenton Chen, and Weilim Lin, Endless Sky

: : :

Despite the fact that the nights have gotten colder, and will most certainly only continue to get colder, Tsunayoshi doesn’t dare venture out of the forest he’s called home for the last year.

His reasons for why have little to do with fear, considering he’s only in the forest in the first place because he was chased into it. He does not fear those that hunt him, no; it’s the other people he fears. The strangers, the innocents, the ignorant. People that, once learning where he is from and who he is, will look at him with pity.

Tsuna doesn’t want the pity of people that don’t know what he’s been through. Does not want to walk down the streets hearing whispered conversations of what happened to his village- home, and how lucky he is to be alive.

He doesn’t think it’s luck. Instead, it’d probably be more fitting to call it punishment. A reminder of what he failed to do the first time and will continue to fail to do: protect his loved ones.

Ironic that the very thing which took his home away from him also gave a piece of it back to him, in a way. Cruel too. He still wonders if he should be grateful or curse it all to Hell.

The raid and subsequent burning of his village took away his family, friends, and innocence of this life. But it also dumped a lifetime of memories of another, different, past life - filled with more family, fun times, and hardships.

Truly, if anyone knew of his predicament, could he be blamed for cherishing the life of decades lived more than his measly five years here? Is it really any wonder he let go of the name Sora to be Tsunayoshi?

Oh, he still loves and holds the five years he lived close to heart. Still considers the woman who birthed and named him to be his mother, and the man who spun fantastical tales for him to be his father. Still thinks of the neighborhood children that played and laughed with him as friends. Still believes that the little village, isolated by the valley it was built on, to be his home.

But that was a life of innocence and safety- both of which were destroyed by the group of mages that sowed destruction for their own amusement. It was a life he couldn’t cling to and hope to survive.

In more plain words, he supposes that Sora Aurora died in the fire that consumed his village so that Tsunayoshi Aurora could continue to live.

Tsunayoshi for his first life, proof of what he’s capable of being and doing. Aurora for his second life, to honor the people that raised and loved him. Both names joined together as a reminder of what he’s been through and lost along the way.

He doesn’t want to forget the people that died where he survived. Doesn’t want to forget the sacrifices that were made for his benefit. Sacrifices that never should have been made in the first place. Not for someone like him. Not when he should have been stronger, faster, better.

Not when he should have died right alongside them.

[starry-bi-sky]

changeling danny has his wretched little claws in me so here's some AU fey lore

Okay so, i've got a lot of ideas for the Fey Lore in this au. But to start out what may become a sling of posts: a simplified set up of the Infinite Realms. I think I mentioned it before in a reblog of the original changeling danny post, but the fey wilds exist in the IR. In most fanon I see the same scale as the rest of the realms, however i have a different idea for it.

In simplified terms, the fey wilds and the ghost zone are two different things. They both exist in the Infinite Realms, however, they exist on different planes of existence. In simplified terms, there are three separate planes in the Infinite Realms.

The Long Far: Highest realm in the infinite realms. Home to most, if not all, the Ancients. Beings that reside in The Long Far are eldritch abominations, gods, personifications of concepts, and other celestial-type beings. The only way to access the Long Far is through the Starflare Currents in the Feywilds. Which are a nebula of stars that work similar to the ocean currents in Finding Nemo. They are a rapid vortex full of stars that pass over the feywilds that can be seen at night. In order to reach the Long Far, one must fly up to the Current and latch onto one of the stars rapidly flying past. And then they must stay on the star until the currents begin to ascend rapidly upwards. This is harder than it sounds. Ever been indoor surfing? Where you lie on your stomach on a small board and try not to get flung off? Exact same concept. It’s basically the world’s most terrifying escalator to the gods.

The Fey Wilds: The Fey Wilds isn't exactly strictly home to the Fey, however for convenience sake I'm calling it the Fey Wilds. This is the home to fey and other folklore and mythological creatures that may not want to reside in the Ghost Zone. There are no Fey in the GZ. It's not that they hate being down there, but. well.. they hate being down there. They think the place is ugly. The Fey Wilds has ever shifting, expanding amount of biomes. These biomes range from massive redwood forests, to swamps, to essentially Pandora from Avatar. The place can look almost entirely human one moment, and then like a different planet the next. Fey and other inhabitants know how to navigate this easily -- but ghosts? Not so much. There are currently two known ways to reach the Fey Wilds from the Ghost Zone and vice versa: Lake Portals, and Cave Tunnels. Which I will expand upon in a moment.

Ghost Zone: Exactly how it sounds! The Ghost Zone is, well, the ghost zone! It's essentially the same as canon. Same looks, same everything. This is the home of mortal souls and the occasional mythological creature or two, as well as weaker concept spirits. By that I mean like, ecto-octopi. Concept spirits can manifest in both the GZ and Feywilds. Ghosts tend to stick inside the Ghost Zone and avoid venturing into the Fey Wilds because, well, they're still mortal souls. They're gonna get jumped by a fey looking for a new decoration or a new pet/servant/whatever. Best to honestly avoid the fey wilds as a whole.

Now, I just mentioned that there were two known ways to reach the Fey Wilds from the Ghost Zone: lake portals and cave tunnels. I made goofy little visual aides which I will attach below, and then I will explain how they work.

I'll start with the Lake Portals. They are, well, as the name suggests lake portals. Not every lake in the fey wild is a portal to the ghost zone, and vice versa. They're rather uncommon to find in both planes, but it's not like they're hard to recognize.

In the Fey Wilds, lake portals will have a sheen over the water like an oil spill. But instead of the regular rainbow-y colors, it will instead have the ghost zone's colors swirling in it; green and purple. The water will have that sickly green tint to it, and have a slight glow. The plant life surrounding the water are not typically what you'd find in the Fey Wilds, but might in the Ghost Zone. They look different from the regular noxious swamp bogs in the wilds, so its easy to tell that they're lake portals.

In the Ghost Zone, the lake portals will instead be shimmery and blue like a tropical ocean. And just like how there are GZ plants in the fey wilds surrounding the water, there's fey wild plants on the island where the lake is.

How these portals work is rather simple. You dive in and begin swimming down. It's a long swim down, but that's all you gotta do. It will get dark, as there are no plant life in these portals, and no aquatic life either.

It starts getting complicated when you reach what I like to call the border. The border is as the name implies; its a border between the planes. In the lakes it's not physical, however you will feel when you've reached the border and crossed it. Intense vertigo washes over you as your sense of gravity begins to shift and flip; up is becoming down, down is becoming up.

Your goal at this point is to try and push through that vertigo and discomfort and make it to the other side of the border, without getting flipped upside down and swimming back to the surface you came from. This is harder than it sounds as you become dizzy underwater, and since there's no light anywhere, you will try and instinctively seek it out and follow it. You're down too deep to know where that light is.

Once you've reached the other end of the border successfully, your gravity will have flipped without you needing to do anything. You are now swimming up to the surface, and once you do, boom! You're in the ghost zone! Lake Portals are faster to use than tunnels, but very disorientating.

Now cave tunnels are longer, but simpler. Essentially some caves have tunnels that lead into the ghost zone, similar to how in greek mythology there are random entrances to the underworld in the mortal world. I haven't exactly figured out what the tell is for when you're in a tunnel leading to the Ghost Zone, but I know that when it's the other way around it's rather easy -- as you start to climb up.

It's a less complicated explanation: essentially you are descending into the ghost zone through this tunnel. You are on your way down like Orpheus in search of his wife, or like Heracles doing his twelve labors. It can get claustrophobic and of course there is the border.

Unlike experiencing a shift in gravity, you're instead hit with the intense vertigo and an intrinsic fear to turn around. It's an instinctual response to your surroundings changing on a molecular level, and your body in response is telling you to Flee. Basically, you've taken a rip of the Cave Gasses and you feel like you're losing your mind. Once you exit the border its smooth sailing.

Sometimes you get unlucky and there's a Pit Drop and you're suddenly Alice in Wonderlanding your way down to the Ghost Zone. But hey! At least you're not swimming.

those are currently the only two ways i've come up with for traveling between the GZ and Fey Wilds. But all in all, it's meant to be very disorientating stuff; vertigo and nausea-inducing, with just a dash of Existentially Terrifying. Traveling between planes usually is.

[wyvernquill]

Finally some more Dreamling Anastasia AU!

(Obligatory link to the masterpost with all the other posts in this AU - it's also pinned at the top of my blog!)

So, it's been... a while... but I've recently finally got some motivation to write a bit more of this. Apologies to everyone really looking forward to the finale/resolution - I've decided to go all the way back to the start of the story, instead. I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless!

(Tag list: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-kingdom - since it's been a, uh, really long time, please let me know if you're no longer interested in this AU/fandom and don't want to be tagged anymore, I won't mind! On the other hand, if someone else would like to be tagged in future updates, please let me know!)

---

“Sister… it’s me.”

The man on the dilapidated theatre’s stage shrugs a heavy, moth-eaten velvet coat off his narrow shoulders. It crumples into a dark semi-circle around him, releasing a dramatic cloud of dust.

“Dream… of the Endless~”

.

“Ah. Hm.” A somewhat fussy older gentleman in the empty space usually reserved for the audience adjusts the small circular glasses on his nose, grimacing in a polite and distinctly English way - which he has, once, after first coming to this realm and taking this form, spent hours practising in the mirror - while checking a long list in front of him. “Mr… Carter, was it…?”

“Oh, please.” The man on stage flicks back his white-streaked bangs. “Call me Hal.”

“Yes. Of course, Mr. Hal.” The gentleman purses his lips. “That was… not, er. Not terrible, I suppose. And we’re pleased to note that you appear to have… brought your own cloak.”

“Don’t get used to it. Zelda and Chantal only let me borrow it for the audition.”

“Well, it is a lovely cloak. Only, ah, while Dream of the Endless was known to have quite striking eyes, I do think that, perhaps a little less eyeliner…”

“I could tone it down, I suppose, but I really think the performance would lose something without the makeup.” Hal sighs melodramatically. “I can sing and dance too, if you need it for your… what is this audition for, actually? Play? Music hall show? Ooo, one of those moving pictures?”

“Er.” The gentleman fidgets with his cane, grass-green eyes flickering around the empty theatre. “Well-”

“Thank you, Hal.” The younger man beside him interrupts with a winning smile that only barely covers the boredom and frustration lining a rather ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll let you know.”

“Hm.” Hal, clearly enough of an old hand in the acting business to know a polite “you’re not getting the role, piss off” when he hears one, frowns, and bends down to gather up the borrowed cloak, stalking off towards stage exit right with his head held high, not deigning either of the two men with even one more look.

“...I really do not think this will work, young Robert.” The older man mutters, decisively striking through Hal Carter’s name on his list. It is the last. “None of them look even remotely like him. And the voice-”

“I know, Gil. I know.” The younger man, Hob - only Gilbert is proper and precise enough to call him Robert - rubs at his temples, as if to stave off a headache. “They never manage to get the voice right, do they.”

“Ah, if it were only that…” Gilbert sighs, setting the list down. His eyes are soft and unfocused, seeing far into a past that has long since been razed to the ground. “His Lordship, he… he had a certain air about him, you understand. An otherworldly strangeness. He was the dream-maker, and dream-made, and to look at him was to gaze upon infinity.”

A soft scoff.

“Even if we claim that he has been greatly reduced by being turned into a meagre human - no offence, dear friend - as long as he does not have some spark of endlessness about him, nobody who has ever met him would fall for the ruse. And we are attempting to con his family. I simply cannot see any viable path to success.”

Hob does not respond, for a moment, picking up one of the flyers on their table.

It reads:

.

SEEKING Actor, slender, pale, tall, dark-haired, in the 20-40 age range to play the role of Dream of the Endless (method actors preferred). Generous pay and further benefits await. Auditions each weekday at 6pm at the Old Whickber Street Theatre, Soho. Ask for Hob and Gil.

.

“We’ll find him.” Hob insists. “The perfect pretender. He’s out there, I just know it.”

“We are not the first fools who have attempted a, a caper of this sort.” Gil points out, almost gently. “None of the others ever succeeded.”

“Yes. Well. None of the others managed to find and correctly identify the late Dream’s own pouch of genuine dream-sand on sale at the black market.” Hob shoots back, gesturing at the cord just barely peeking out from under Gil’s collar. (They’ve decided it would be safer if Hob comes into contact with the sand as little as possible, and Gilbert has taken to carrying it as closely to his heart as he can manage.) “It’s hard evidence, Gil, it’s a sign, it’s our chance - and it might just be enough. The trick with a good con is really making it look like you’re giving the mark exactly what they desperately want… and there’s nothing in the world Death of the Endless wants more than to have her brother back.”

.

(She wants it so desperately, in fact, that she’s offering immortality to any sentient being who manages to procure Dream for her.

And, well.

There’s nothing in the world Hob wants more than to live forever…)

.

“Your word in- or, well, kept out of Destiny’s ears, young friend.” Gil sighs, collecting his lists and notes and the remaining flyers, tucking them into his coat and reaching for his cane. “In the meantime, how about we go down to the public house and have a bit of a snifter to wash away the memories of all those atrocious performances, eh, my lad?”

“Best idea you had all day, Gil.” Hob grins, clapping a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Are you buying?”

Gilbert raises one grey brow. “At the risk of provoking a joke regarding my non-human status: in your dreams, Robert.”

Hob laughs; and, together, they step out into the winter night, old snow crunching under their shoes and new flakes beginning to drift, gradually, down from the sky.

.

.

.

It has been a decade since the end of the Endless’ reign.

Ten years since humanity tore Destiny’s book from his hands and burned it.

Ten years since Destruction abandoned his siblings, hiding away in his own, separate exile. 

Ten years since Despair’s first aspect was killed, and another took her place.

Ten years since Delight went mad with grief and became Delirium…

.

And ten years since Dream of the Endless was captured, bound, turned human, and killed.

.

People still whisper about it. Still speculate, trade gossip and hearsay back and forth. Some insist that the Dream King yet lives, hidden away, turned human, just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to return to his siblings.

It’s a lovely legend, Hob supposes. A fitting end and non-end, for the Lord of Stories, to live on in one… but that’s all it is. A pretty tale, which will breathe new life into a myth only for as long as it’s being told. It isn’t true…

…but now, ten years later, Hob and Gil will damn well make it so.

.

.

.

Ten years is also, coincidentally, all that a man a few streets down from the old theatre can remember of his life.

Ten years since he was found, naked and emaciated and bleeding, in a ditch next to some countryside road in East Sussex.

Ten years of fighting his way through a life in poverty, with no family, no friends, no-one to care for him, except perhaps the birds.

Ten years of strange and haunting dreams, blurred faces calling out to him with names he can never remember later but knows are his; ten years of waking every morning with tears on his face and a longing for someplace - and someones - he wishes he could remember; ten years of a woman’s voice begging him night after night to come home to her, to them.

.

Ten years of being much too busy starving and freezing and barely surviving to spare even a single thought to the dying legends of the Endless.

.

This man turns his face up to the sky, snowflakes catching in his dark hair and on his coat like stars glinting in the night; and he shivers, his breath clouding mist-white in the air, curling thin arms around a narrow torso.

(For a moment, just a moment, his eyes glow dark and infinite, a mirror to the night sky and the endless universe beyond.)

And then, he ducks his head down into his scarf, shivers again, and continues on through the snow.

Ten hard years have taught this man better than to waste his time standing about and daydreaming.

[youcanseethecosmos]

For the actors AU, how famous are the siblings? Is it like recognized whenever they go out or do the different siblings have different levels of public recognition?

This is a really good question !

In terms of "fame" they're all known in a way. They're nepo babies so that's pretty much a given. But since they all have different preferences in their careers, some are more famous than others.

Dream and Desire I would say are the most famous siblings. Dream more so than Desire (which irritates them to NO end).

Death and Delirium come close but they're more well known in the theater scene. Delirium is stuck in a lot of people's minds as that child from that one very popular sitcom back in the day that she tries desperately to erase from memory.

Destiny is the eldest and most WELL KNOWN but he's not as clamored over or bothered by fans as the others. He's built a solid career as a respected producer/director/writer.

Despair is a voice actor and quit acting in front of the camera in her early twenties. People recognize her voice more than her face.

Destruction is recognizable but people only end up putting two and two together when he says smth about his family. He's the least likely to be followed around by paparazzi and shit.

[offkeyed-reason]

...in shadowclan, clan loyalty is secondary. loyalty to individuals -- to your clutter -- is valued far more. in shadowclan, individuals are valued for who they are, not what they can contribute. this is why tigerstar was able to take over the clan... and why tigerclan would have fallen apart, had tigerstar lived longer.

a clutter is a shadowclan exclusive term for a group of cats who hunt, patrol, sleep, and do just about everything together. they're formed during apprenticeships and last for life. cats typically only join new clutters when most of their members have died.

many of the cats who followed brokenstar into exile were either part of his clutter or most of their clutter obeyed brokenstar without question. not every cat who left was "evil", but many of the ones who left valued the bonds they had. this is a uniquely shadowclan ideology, which means many of the cats who left shadowclan could have been accepted back into the clan easier. brokenstar's own clutter is a different story.

tigerstar is a thunderclan cat who looks at shadowclan and doesn't see it, the same way he looks at riverclan and doesn't see them. they're just pieces to be sacrificed for position. so he forces thunderclan ideals on the two clans he's unified. tigerclan, two clans hastily stitched together, probably would have only lasted three season cycles at the most. riverclan and shadowclan would have rebelled, killing both their leaders and many of the cats who supported them...

[021894s]

TANGLED DESIRES- p.sh

PAIRING: enemy!sunghoon x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: At a prestigious private school, you and Park Sunghoon are locked in a constant rivalry. During a party at your friend Karina’s, a heated argument between you two escalates into an unexpected, passionate encounter. The next morning, you wake up in his arms, forcing both of you to confront the new, complicated tension between you. As you navigate the fallout and shifting feelings, you start to question if your biggest enemy might actually be something much more.

GENRE: enemies to lovers, rich kids au

WARNINGS: smut (unprotected sex, oral sex) rivalry, hurt feelings, angst. ALL ARE OF AGE

wc: 15.4k

You attend the most prestigious school in Korea, where the sky-high tuition fees are only accessible to those born into pure wealth. This elite institution is a playground for the richest families, and your name is synonymous with success. Your family, being the owners of one of Korea’s top corporations, you seem to have everything at your fingertips—a glamorous life of luxury, an enviable social circle, and endless opportunities.

To the outside world, you’re the quintessential rich girl: impeccably stylish, effortlessly popular, and seemingly flawless. Yet beneath this polished veneer lies a different reality. Despite your privileged upbringing, you’re kind-hearted, fiercely intelligent, and deeply dedicated to everything you do. Your friend group, including Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunoo, Niki, Jungwon, Yuna, and Karina, forms a close-knit circle that navigates the pressures of their world together.

But there’s always been one glaring exception: Park Sunghoon. The feud between the two of you is infamous, an unspoken tension that pulses beneath the surface of your otherwise harmonious friendships. No one really knows how it started, and no one seems to care enough to unravel it. Instead, everyone just tolerates your constant bickering.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch table is alive with conversation, the usual chatter amplified by the excitement of the latest gossip. Karina sits comfortably beside Heeseung, leaning into him with an easy confidence that only she can pull off. She’s in the middle of talking about her parents’ latest venture—something about opening another resort somewhere exotic—when she casually drops the bomb.

“So, they’re gone for the whole weekend,” she says, her voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “And you know what that means…”

Jake perks up immediately, his eyes bright. “Party?”

Karina grins. “Obviously. Saturday night, my place. No theme this time, just show up and bring your best energy.”

Yuna claps her hands in excitement. “Finally! It’s been forever since the last one. I was starting to forget what a real party looks like.”

Jay laughs. “As if you’d ever forget. You practically live for these things.”

Yuna sticks her tongue out at him, but her smile doesn’t waver. “Guilty as charged.”

Heeseung wraps an arm around Karina’s shoulders, looking amused. “You’re not worried about your parents finding out?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, they won’t even notice. And even if they do, what’s the worst that could happen? They’ll just buy me something to make up for being gone.”

“Must be nice,” Niki mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Sunoo nudges him with a grin. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you’re not excited. You were the first one to ask about the music last time.”

Niki shrugs, but he can’t hide his smile. “Yeah, well, only if it’s not Sunghoon’s terrible playlist again.”

You glance across the table, catching Sunghoon’s eye. He’s lounging back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “My playlist was fine, thank you very much,” he retorts. “It’s not my fault you have no taste.”

You snort. “Please, Sunghoon, your taste in music is as bad as your taste in everything else.”

He looks over at you, eyebrow raised. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Nothing, just that your definition of ‘good’ is highly questionable.”

He chuckles, the sound low and irritatingly smug. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Karina cuts in, sensing the rising tension. “Alright, let’s not turn this into another one of your little spats. Save it for the party, okay?”

Sunghoon smirks, still looking at you. “Looking forward to it already.”

You roll your eyes but can’t resist shooting back, “Don’t get too excited, I might just ignore you all night.”

“Oh, the horror,” he replies, his voice dripping with mock terror. “How will I ever survive?”

Jay laughs, nudging Jake. “You know, one day they might actually get along.”

Jake shakes his head, grinning. “Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

Karina steers the conversation back to the party details, running through a list of essentials while Heeseung nods along, offering suggestions. “Invite whoever you want,” she says, “oh except luci, last time I caught her giving mark head in my parents bedroom, I haven’t been able to go in there since.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, trying not to notice how Sunghoon is still watching you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wonder what’s going through his head, but then you push the thought away. Whatever it is, it’s probably nothing you need to worry about.

Karina claps her hands, bringing the attention back to her. “So, everyone’s in?”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and the table erupts into a mix of laughter and excited chatter as plans start to form. You glance over at Sunghoon one more time, catching his eye for a brief second before looking away. This party is already shaping up to be interesting… and you have a feeling that’s an understatement.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch buzz still lingers in your ears as the group makes its way back across the pristine campus grounds. The sunlight reflects off the sleek, modern architecture of the school’s main building, and you can’t help but admire the way everything here seems to sparkle—like even the bricks and mortar are aware of the school's prestige.

You find yourself walking beside Karina, who’s still chatting excitedly about the party, while Heeseung stays close, throwing in a comment or two. Yuna and Sunoo are a few steps ahead, their heads bent together as they giggle over something on Sunoo’s phone. You catch Jake and Jay trailing behind, still debating something about sports cars or the best summer destinations.

Just as you’re about to reach the entrance, you feel a presence beside you. You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is; Sunghoon always manages to sidle up to you when you least expect it.

“What, are you following me now?” you ask, not breaking your stride.

He chuckles. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. It just so happens our lockers are in the same direction.”

“Right,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. “Like you don’t go out of your way to annoy me.”

He glances at you, smirk still firmly in place. “Maybe I just like seeing you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can fire back a retort, the group reaches the main hallway. The chatter from the student body fills the air, a mix of excitement and post-lunch drowsiness. The smell of expensive cologne and designer perfumes lingers in the air, an unmistakable signature of the school’s elite.

Karina stops at her locker, Heeseung leaning against it with a casual arm draped over her shoulder. She turns to you, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, you’re coming early on Saturday, right? I need a hand setting things up.”

You nod, grateful for the distraction from Sunghoon. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Great!” She beams. “And maybe you can help me make sure everything stays under control. You know how things can get with this crowd.”

Heeseung laughs softly. “Good luck with that. I don’t think anyone’s ever managed to keep Sunoo and Niki under control for more than five minutes.”

As if on cue, Sunoo pops up beside you with a grin. “I heard that, Heeseung! I’m an angel, thank you very much.”

Niki appears at his side, raising an eyebrow. “An angel of chaos, maybe.”

The group laughs, and you feel the tension in your shoulders ease. It’s moments like these that make all the bickering and drama feel worth it.

But then, just as you’re about to make another comment, Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the noise. “So, Y/N,” he says casually, “what are you going to wear to the party? Let me guess… something that screams ‘trying too hard’?”

You whip your head around, narrowing your eyes at him. “And what are you planning on wearing, Sunghoon? Something that screams ‘I own everything but a personality’?”

There’s a collective gasp from your friends, followed by a chorus of laughter. Sunghoon raises his eyebrows, feigning a look of hurt. “Ouch, that one actually stung a little. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You cross your arms, feeling a triumphant smile tug at your lips. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Try me.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe I will,” he says, his eyes flicking over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken. “But you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get under my skin.”

You’re about to retort when a voice interrupts. “Can we get through one day without you two turning everything into a competition?” Jay sighs, looking exasperated. “Seriously, it’s exhausting just watching you.”

Jake nods in agreement, though he’s grinning. “You guys need to find a new hobby. Preferably one that doesn’t involve verbal sparring in the middle of the hallway.”

You shrug, unable to resist the urge to keep poking at Sunghoon. “I’m open to suggestions, but I doubt Sunghoon has any better ideas.”

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms with a playful smile. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas. But I think you’d be too scared to try them.”

Before you can respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Karina groans. “Ugh, saved by the bell. I guess we’ll have to pick this up later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As everyone starts to disperse to their respective classes, Sunghoon gives you one last look, a challenge in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is beating just a little faster. You can’t help but wonder what exactly he’s planning… and why a part of you is actually looking forward to finding out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The day of the party arrives with a crisp, clear sky and a hint of excitement that seems to permeate every corner of the city. You wake up early, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Karina had texted you the night before, reminding you to come over in the afternoon to help set up for the party. You agreed eagerly, knowing that any opportunity to help would give you something to focus on and take your mind off the strange tension building between you and Sunghoon.

When you arrive at Karina’s mansion, the house is buzzing with activity. Karina’s housekeeper greets you at the door with a warm smile, directing you to the large, open-plan living area where Karina is already busy coordinating the decorations with a small army of helpers. The space is being transformed into a glamorous party venue with twinkling lights, elegant table settings, and a dance floor that looks like it’s straight out of a high-end club.

Karina spots you as soon as you walk in, her face lighting up with relief and excitement. “Y/N! Perfect timing. I’m so glad you’re here. We could use an extra pair of hands.”

You smile, rolling up your sleeves. “What can I do to help?”

Karina hands you a stack of neatly folded napkins and points towards a table covered with party favors. “Start by setting these up on the tables. I want everything to look perfect tonight.”

You get to work, organizing napkins and arranging snack trays, chatting with Karina about the last-minute details. The hours fly by as you work alongside her, the room gradually coming together into a setting that is unmistakably Karina’s style—classy, sophisticated, and just a bit over the top.

As the afternoon drifts into evening, Karina claps her hands and gathers you for a brief break. “Alright, it’s time for a quick change. You’ve been working so hard, and I want you to look as fabulous as the rest of the evening.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-teasing. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Karina waves her hand dismissively. “you don’t want me to answer that. cmon you’re hot, why not show off a little?”

Before you can protest, Karina ushers you into her bedroom and pulls out a sleek, little black dress from her closet. The dress is short and simple with a cut that accentuates your figure without being too revealing.

“Put this on,” Karina insists, handing you the dress. “Trust me, you’ll look amazing. And don’t worry about the hair and makeup; I’ve got that covered too.”

You change quickly, admiring the way the dress fits and the way it makes you feel more confident and glamorous. When you step out of the room, Karina is waiting with a professional-looking makeup kit and a few hair tools.

As she works on your hair and makeup, she chatters away, filling the room with her usual upbeat energy. “you look sexy”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “Thanks, Karina. You don’t think it’s a bit much? It’s definitely more out there than I usually go for”.

Karina beams, finishing up with a final touch of lipstick. “babe there’s no such thing as too much. And who knows, maybe you’ll catch someone eye tonight,” she tells you with a wink.

With a laugh and a final look at yourself in the mirror, you feel a surge of excitement. The dress feels perfect, and the makeup and hair make you look polished and ready for the night. As you head back downstairs, you catch sight of Karina’s smile of approval, and you can’t help but feel a bit more confident about the evening ahead.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The music starts pumping through the walls as you and Karina make your way back downstairs. The final touches have been set, and the room looks like a scene straight out of a teen movie: fairy lights strung up in every corner, a couple of disco balls catching the light just right, and a dance floor that practically begs people to let loose. Karina surveys everything with a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

“See?” she says, nudging you with her elbow. “This is why I always go all out.”

You chuckle, glancing around. “Okay, okay, you were right. This does look kind of amazing.”

The doorbell rings, and Karina practically bounces on her toes. “That must be the first guests! Come on, we have to greet everyone in style.”

The two of you rush to the front door, and soon enough, your friends start streaming in. Sunoo is the first to arrive, with Niki and Jungwon right behind him. They all look ready to have the best night ever, and Sunoo immediately zeroes in on you, his eyes going wide.

“Oh. My. God. Y/N!” Sunoo exclaims dramatically, clutching his chest. “Look at you in that little black dress! Who is she?!”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin. “Alright, Sunoo, calm down. It’s just a dress.”

“It’s not just a dress,” Niki interjects with a grin. “It’s the dress. Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

Jungwon nudges Niki. “Yeah, spill. Is there someone you’re hoping to catch the eye of?”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “Oh, please, like I’d tell you guys even if there was.”

More of your friends arrive, and soon the room is buzzing with chatter and laughter. Jake and Jay show up not long after, both of them effortlessly cool as always. Jay immediately gets to work DJ-ing from his phone, while Jake heads to the makeshift bar, already concocting a round of mixed drinks.

Then, just as you start to relax, you see him—Park Sunghoon. He steps in, looking annoyingly good in a casual black button-down and jeans. His eyes scan the room until they find you. For a split second, he looks almost surprised, but then his trademark smirk appears.

“Well, well,” Sunghoon says as he strolls over to you, hands casually shoved into his pockets. “Look who decided to play dress-up. You got a hot date tonight or something?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “Oh, please, Sunghoon. Unlike you, I don’t have to try so hard to impress everyone.”

Sunghoon chuckles, leaning in just slightly. “Right. Because you just show up looking like that for fun?”

Before you can shoot back a retort, Karina swoops in, looping her arm through yours. “Hey, Sunghoon, quit being a troll. Y/N looks amazing, and you know it. Now go get a drink and try to be nice for once!”

He holds up his hands, his grin widening. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave... for now.”

You watch as he saunters off to join Jake at the bar, and Karina gives you a knowing look. “Don’t let him get under your skin tonight, okay?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, even though you’re still buzzing from his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party is in full swing now—music thumping, people laughing, and the lights twinkling overhead like stars. You find yourself swept up in the fun, moving from one conversation to the next, the earlier tension with Sunghoon momentarily forgotten. You’re by the snack table, popping a few chips into your mouth when Haechan sidles up next to you with his signature grin.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says smoothly, leaning in a little closer than necessary. “Looking good tonight. That dress is seriously working for you.”

You smile at him, amused by his blatant flirting. “Thanks, Haechan. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, playing along. He’s always been a harmless flirt, and you don’t mind the attention tonight.

He grins wider, clearly pleased. “I try. But seriously, I can’t believe I’m just now noticing how stunning you are. Were you hiding this whole time or just waiting for the perfect moment to make your grand entrance?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, you know me. Always dramatic,” you joke, and he chuckles, leaning in a bit more.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N. Makes me want to know you better,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, and you can’t help but laugh at his over-the-top delivery.

What you don’t notice is that from across the room, Sunghoon has been watching the entire interaction with a growing frown. He’s leaning against a wall, a drink in hand, his eyes narrowing as he watches Haechan lean closer to you, flashing that charming smile. His jaw tightens, and his grip on the cup becomes visibly tighter.

Heeseung, who’s been standing beside him, follows his line of sight and notices the tense look on his friend’s face. A knowing grin spreads across Heeseung’s lips as he leans over to Sunghoon, nudging him with his elbow.

“Someone looks like they’ve got their feathers ruffled,” Heeseung teases, keeping his voice low so only Sunghoon can hear.

Sunghoon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Heeseung laughs. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at Haechan like you’re ready to knock that grin off his face.”

Sunghoon doesn’t respond right away, but his eyes remain fixed on you and Haechan. Heeseung watches with amusement, clearly enjoying the show.

“Just admit it, man,” Heeseung continues, his tone light. “You’re jealous.”

Sunghoon finally looks away from you, giving Heeseung a dismissive look. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like seeing him act like a fool.”

Heeseung snorts. “Right. Because you’re so worried about Haechan embarrassing himself.” He claps a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Come on, dude, just go talk to her. Or are you afraid she’ll turn you down?”

Sunghoon shoots him a glare. “Shut up, Heeseung.”

Heeseung just laughs harder, clearly unbothered by Sunghoon’s mood. “Alright, whatever you say. But just so you know, glaring at Haechan isn’t going to do anything except make you look more obvious.”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer, but Heeseung’s words seem to hit a nerve. He turns his attention back to you, his expression unreadable, though there’s still a flicker of something in his eyes—something more than just casual interest.

Meanwhile, you’re still chatting with Haechan, completely unaware of the little drama unfolding across the room. But you can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching you, and when you finally glance up, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s for just a second. He quickly looks away, and you can’t help but wonder what that was all about.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party continues to buzz around you, but after a while, the noise and energy start to feel a bit overwhelming. You decide you need a break, a moment to yourself away from the chaos. Without saying anything, you slip out of the crowded living room and head toward the balcony, where the air is cooler and the music is just a muffled hum in the background.

You push open the glass doors and step outside, letting the crisp night air hit your face. It’s a welcome change from the warmth inside. You lean against the railing, taking a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The stars are faint above the city lights, and you can hear distant sounds of traffic, a reminder of the world continuing outside this little bubble of a party.

You close your eyes for a moment, just enjoying the quiet. But then, you hear the soft sound of footsteps behind you. You turn, half-expecting to see Karina or maybe Sunoo, but your heart skips a beat when you see Sunghoon stepping out onto the balcony.

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” you sigh, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“I could ask you the same thing” he replies, his voice closer than you expected. You feel the warmth of his body behind you, jus inches away. “Running away from the party?”

”Hardly.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “Just needed a break from all the fakes and liars inside.”

His lips curl into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “And here I thought you thrived on that type of thing. Who knew Y/N had limits?”

You roll tour eyes, turning back to the view. “Yeah, well, believe it or not I do. But you wouldn’t know anything, would you?”

Sunghoon steps closer, his breath brushing against your ear, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks and something else you refuse to acknowledge. “You don’t know anything about me, Sunghoon. And id keep it that way if I were you.”

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that makes your skin prickle. “I think you like it when I get under your skin. Why else do you always react like this?” You scoff, turning to face him, only then realizing how close he actually was. “Maybe i’m just tired of you acting like you’re gods gift to the world. newsflash: you’re not.”

His grin widens, and he takes another step closer, invading you’re space entirely as if he wasn’t already to begin with. “Admit it.” he says, his voice dropping lower. “You like our little games. You like the way I push your buttons.”

Your heart is pounding now, and you hate that he’s right, that there’s something about him that gets to you in a way no one else does.But you refuse to five him the satisfaction of knowing it. “In your dreams,” you snap, though the breathlessness in your voice betrays you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm, and you feel a jolt of heat at the contact. “Is that so?” he whispers, his lips dangerously close to yours now, his eyes dark with challenge. “Because I think you’re lying. I think you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you’re frozen, caught in his gaze. The intensity in his eyes makes your pulse race, a mix of anger and undeniable attraction. He’s so close now that you can feel his breath your lips, and before you can stop yourself, you grab his shirt, pulling him the last few inches towards you.

“Maybe I just want to shut you up,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then do it,” he taunts, his lips brushing against yours, almost but not quite a kiss. It’s all the encouragement you need. You close the distance, your mouth crashing against his. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you press against him, fueled by a mix of anger and desire.

The kiss is intense, a battle of wills as much as it is anything else. His lips are firm, demanding, and you meet him with equal force, neither of you willing to give an inch. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging slightly and he groans against your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You’re lost in it. Lost in him, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. His hands slide up your back, his touch sending sparks through you, and you hate how much you crave it, hate how much you want him despite everything.

You’re breathless when you finally pull back, your heart hammering against your ribs. Sunghoon’s lips are parted, his breaths coming in ragged, and his eyes are dark with something dangerous—something you know you shouldn’t be entertaining.

His hand is still on your waist, his thumb brushing the exposed skin just beneath the hem of your shirt, and you swear every nerve in your body is on fire. He leans in close, his lips grazing your ear, and his voice comes out in a low, almost pleading murmur. “Come back to my place.”

It isn’t a question, but there’s something in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine, a combination of hunger and desperation that mirrors what’s coursing through your veins. For a moment, you’re tempted—so, so tempted to just say yes and give in to whatever this is. But logic fights its way to the surface, and you pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Are you serious?” you ask, your voice wavering more than you’d like.

His expression doesn’t falter, his eyes locked onto yours. “Dead serious.” He swallows, his grip on your waist tightening, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “I don’t want this to end here.”

You hesitate, your mind racing. This is Sunghoon—Park Sunghoon—the guy you’ve spent so long arguing with, glaring at across rooms, doing everything in your power to avoid. But there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now, something raw and real that makes it hard to think clearly.

“I don’t know,” you say, trying to sound firm, though your resolve is crumbling by the second. “I mean… this is crazy.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, his voice still low, still laced with that edge of desperation. “But I think you like crazy.” His lips curl into a half-smile, that familiar cockiness tempered with something else, something softer.

You bite your lip, weighing your options, feeling the tension between you both—hot, magnetic, impossible to ignore. “This is a bad idea,” you whisper, though even you can hear the lack of conviction in your words.

Sunghoon steps closer, closing the distance again, his forehead almost touching yours. “Probably the worst,” he says, his breath hot against your skin. “But if you don’t say yes, I’m going to lose my mind.”

You can feel his heartbeat through his shirt, can feel how fast it’s racing, and you know he means it. Part of you is screaming to walk away, to leave now before you make a mistake, but there’s another part—a louder, more reckless part—that’s screaming for you to stay, to see where this goes.

“Just one night,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours again, barely a kiss, just enough to make you shiver. “No strings, no expectations. Just… us.”

You close your eyes, fighting against every instinct telling you to run. But when you open them again, his gaze is still locked onto yours, and you can’t deny the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your skin tingles with every touch.

“Fine,” you breathe, barely louder than a whisper. “One night.”

His grin is immediate, but there’s relief in it too, and he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours again, this time harder, more insistent. “Let’s get out of here,” he says against your mouth, his hand sliding to intertwine with yours, and you know there’s no going back now.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You manage to sneak past your friends to leave Karina’s mansion, the partygoers and scattered distractions making it all that more simple.

The drive is quiet, both of you caught in your own thoughts. The city passes by in a blur of neon signs and headlights, the streets quieter than they were earlier. You steal a glance at him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against the wheel like he’s counting down the seconds.

Sunghoon pulls up to his mansion, its sprawling, modern architecture framed by towering trees and high walls that ensure absolute privacy. The wide driveway curves up to the grand entrance, where soft lights cast a warm glow over the marble steps and tall double doors. You glance around, taking in the sheer size of the place—not because it surprises you, but because you’ve never been here before.

Your own family’s estate is nothing to scoff at, but there’s a distinct style to his home—something sleek and almost understated, despite its size. You tilt your head slightly, noticing the details: the way the garden is meticulously maintained, the sharp lines of the building softened by the greenery that surrounds it. It’s impressive, in a way that’s different from what you’re used to.

He takes your hand to lead you inside, you follow him down the dimly lit corridor, decorated with family pictures and modern art that costs a fortune. He pauses at his bedroom door, his hand still holding yours, and turns to look at you one more time. “Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, though his thumb strokes the back of your hand, a comforting gesture.

You take a deep breath, then shake your head. “I’m not changing my mind.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Good,” he whispers, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

You step inside, and he follows, closing the door behind you. The space is dimly lit, warm, and there’s an unexpected coziness to it—minimalistic but comfortable. The air feels thick with everything unspoken between you.

Sunghoon turns to you, his gaze intense, and he steps closer, his hand moving up to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admits quietly, his voice almost a growl.

Your breath catches, and you feel the heat rush to your face. “Then stop talking,” you murmur, your own voice breathless.

His lips are on yours in an instant, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s all-consuming, filled with all the tension, the want, the frustration that’s been building for so long. You kiss him back just as fiercely, hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding beneath your palms.

Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, squeezing your tits. You let out a small involuntary moan, a grunt leaving him immediately after. His lips move down to your next, trailing up and down before reaching that sweet spot right behind your ear.

It all feels to fucking good, your panties sticking to your core. He moves to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you into his lap before catching your lips once again. His growing hardness is poking at you. “You look so fucking sexy in this little dress,” He tells you in a low tone that makes you clench around nothing, the ache between your legs growing. You start grinding on him, his hands grabbing your ass, encouraging you to keep grinding against his clothed length. “That’s it baby, grind on me, keep rubbing that pretty pussy over my cock.”

Your head is thrown back, lip in between your teeth, his words encouraging your quickening movements. “Need you so bad, Hoon,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah baby? tell me what you need.” He tells you. It’s almost embarrassing how much you wanted him. “Need your cock.” Without another word you feel his hands back on your ass, lifting you up and throwing you down on his bed. He looks up at you with mischievious eyes, hovering over you as his hands roam down the sides of your thighs to them hem of your dress. “Can i take this off?” he asks, caressing the soft, exposed skin there.

Eagerly, you nod quickly, reaching for the hem to help him pull it up and over your head. Luckily you opted for a pair of black lacy panties and opposed to your more comfortable ones. He audibly sighs and your exposed figure, “You’re so beautiful,” He tells you, his fingers working to slide your panties down your legs and tossing them to the side, revealing just how much you wanted him.

“Shit baby you’re so wet.” He leans down, placing soft, wet kisses just below your navel, dangerously close to where you wanted him most. “Hoon please,” you murmur out. He straightens out, unbuckling his belt to pull down his pants and boxers all in one go. While he wasn’t remarkably long, he made up for it in girth. You lick your lips at the sight, anticipation and heat pooling.

He pumps himself a couple times before he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He takes his time, making sure to smear your slick between your clit and his length. You feel his tip parting your folds, your breath hitching in your throat. “You ready?” his eyes meet yours for assurance. No words come out your mouth, all you do is nod.

He enters you carefully, a strong contrast from his words earlier in the night. The last thing he wants is to rush, just because of how unpatient and horny he is. You close your eyes, holding in the gasp that threatens to escape your lips. “Relax baby, I got you.”

“I know,” you breathe out. The sudden stretch has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The burn quickly turning into a delicious one. “That’s it,” he praises you continuing to slide in until he’s nestled completely between your walls. “You take me so well,” he grunts, his length twitching inside of you.

“Fuck me, Hoon” you murmur, your walls clench around him, throwing his head back at the feeling. Before you know it he’s pulling out of you, only to smack his hips back against yours. It knocks all the oxygen out your lungs, leaving you breathless as he repeats the same action over and over again. “Fuck,” you breathe out, focusing on how good he looks above you.

You’re in a complete feeling of euphoria. Sunghoon’s skills topping those of the few guys you’ve slept with before. In that moment, all the bickering and years of back and forth leave your mind completely. The only thing closing your mind is how good him of all people is making you feel.

“Hoon… faster,” you let out, his hips snapping in a faster pace on command. Your back arches off the bed, hands grasping the sheets in small fists. He notices and reaches for them to thread his fingers through yours, pinning them above your head. “You like that baby? love how good you feel… fuck you’re so tight. Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“I’m so c-close, fuck,” you breathe out. His thrusts become messier and you know he’s close. “Cum on my cock pretty,” he grunts, hands letting go of yours to grip your hips. Clenching around him, it takes a few for pumps before you’re both coming undone. His cock twitching inside you as he fucks his cum into you.

He drops his sweaty forehead against your shoulder, quick, deep breaths meeting your skin and he comes down from his high. It takes you both a while before your breathing steadys. “You good?,” he asks you, settling on the bed beside you. “mhm,” is all you say in response, unsure as to where this leaves your relationship. It all felt to good to ignore. “Are you good?” you ask him after a moment of silence. “Better than I have in a long time.”

You’re not sure when you fall asleep. The exhaustion taking over you all at once.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The morning light filters softly through the heavy curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. You wake to the sound of birds chirping outside, their songs a peaceful contrast to the intensity of the night before. The bed is warm, and you’re nestled comfortably under the covers, Sunghoon’s arm draped over you.

You shift slightly, the movement causing Sunghoon to stir beside you. He mumbles something incoherent, tightening his hold on you before settling back into a deeper sleep. You take a moment to just lie there, letting yourself absorb the strange, surreal comfort of the situation. There’s an odd serenity in the room, a calm that feels almost unreal given the whirlwind of emotions that led you here.

As you slowly become more aware, you gently untangle yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him. You sit up and stretch, glancing around at the elegant room that’s now your temporary sanctuary. The soft morning light highlights the sleek lines and modern decor, giving the space an almost ethereal quality.

You slide out of bed and make your way to the bathroom, feeling a little self-conscious but determined to gather yourself. You glance at yourself in the mirror, trying to process the whirlwind of the past night. The evidence of sleep lingers in your eyes, and you smooth your hair, mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

When you return to the bedroom, Sunghoon is still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You take a moment to just watch him, the vulnerability in his expression softened by sleep. There’s a part of you that feels a pang of something—softness, maybe even affection—though you’re still trying to fully understand what it all means.

Deciding not to linger too long, you quietly gather your things and start to get dressed. You’re pulling on your clothes when you hear a rustling behind you. You turn to find Sunghoon blinking awake, his gaze immediately locking on you with a sleepy, yet intense look.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the previous night's intensity. “Morning. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He stretches lazily, a smirk forming on his lips. “And here I was thinking you’d sneak out before I even woke up. Not very considerate of you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to tiptoe around your mansion.”

He chuckles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, well, you should be lucky you’re not being kicked out for your unexpected visit.”

You roll your eyes, pulling on your shirt. “Oh, please. It’s not like I forced my way in. You made it pretty clear you wanted me here.”

His smirk widens. “True. And now I’m faced with the charming aftermath of our little escapade. How do you intend to handle that?”

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “I think we both know this doesn’t exactly change things. We still don’t like each other. This was… a one-off.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “A one-off? That’s what we’re calling it now? What happened to all that intense ‘hate’ from last night?”

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a bit defensive. “It’s complicated. We both know that. I’m just here to sort myself out.”

He stands up, stretching with a yawn. “Well, I suppose if you’re done with the morning-after drama, I should at least make you breakfast.”

You look at him skeptically. “Breakfast? You’re really pulling out the stops now?”

He gives you a mockingly hurt look. “Don’t sound so surprised. Even enemies deserve to be fed after a night like that.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Fine. Breakfast it is. But don’t think this means I’m sticking around for a whole lot of chit-chat.”

He grins, clearly pleased with your response. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just a quick meal and then you can be on your way.”

As he leads you to the kitchen, you both fall into a familiar rhythm, trading barbs and jabs that feel almost comfortable in their own way. The awkwardness of the night before is still there, but it’s tempered by the humor and banter that defines your relationship.

In the kitchen, Sunghoon starts pulling out ingredients, his movements confident and efficient. You watch him, feeling a strange mix of irritation and appreciation. Despite everything, there’s something almost endearing about the way he’s trying to play the gracious host.

“So, what’s the plan after breakfast?” you ask, grabbing a coffee cup and filling it. “Are we going to pretend like nothing happened, or do you have some other grand gesture in mind?”

He looks over at you with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just enjoy the novelty of seeing you eat my food. Consider it a small victory.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a genuine smile on your lips. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’m not here for long.”

He chuckles, placing a plate of food in front of you. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you leave right after. I’m sure we’ll find new ways to annoy each other soon enough.”

You take a bite of the breakfast, shaking your head in mock exasperation. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As you eat, the tension from the night before begins to ease, replaced by the familiar dynamic of your interactions. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s familiar—a small reminder that despite everything, some things never really change.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, you gather your things and stand up, eager to leave the classroom and escape the strange tension that’s been hanging between you and Sunghoon all day. You’re heading toward the door when you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around to find Sunghoon standing close, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Sunghoon leans in, his face just inches from yours. His breath is warm against your ear, and you can feel his proximity even though you try to back away slightly. “You look cute today,” he whispers, his voice low and deliberately teasing.

You freeze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as his words sink in. You’re taken aback by the unexpected comment, feeling a rush of irritation mixed with something you can’t quite define. You quickly compose yourself, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, trying to keep your voice low so that no one else hears. “Now you’re trying to play nice? How pathetic.”

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just making an observation,” he says innocently, though the amusement in his eyes betrays him.

You roll your eyes, your frustration evident. “Yeah, well, save it for someone who actually cares. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

As you turn and walk toward the door, you hear Sunghoon’s laughter behind you, light and mocking. You try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as you make your way out of the classroom, determined not to let him get under your skin. Despite your efforts to stay composed, his words linger in your mind, adding to the awkwardness and confusion of the day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Lunch at school is a lively affair, with the cafeteria buzzing with the chatter of students and the clatter of trays. You and your friends—Yuna, Karina, and the rest—settle into your usual spot at the table. Sunghoon and his group are seated across from you, and you can feel his gaze lingering on you, even as you try to focus on the conversation with your friends.

Karina is mid-sentence, animatedly discussing the latest school gossip when Sunghoon's voice cuts through. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can't actually believe that nonsense.”

You glance up, catching Sunghoon’s eyes. He’s smirking, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke at you. “And what’s so ridiculous about it?” you retort, trying to keep your voice steady despite the irritation brewing inside you.

“Seriously?” Sunghoon’s grin widens. “It’s just a bunch of exaggerated stories. You’ve always had a knack for falling for that kind of thing.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a familiar annoyance bubbling up. “Says the guy who’s always spouting off about how everything’s ‘not worth his time.’”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “At least I don’t get caught up in every little bit of drama that comes my way.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I’m not the one who spends half his day looking for ways to pick fights. Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with making everything a competition, you’d see things more clearly.”

Yuna and Karina exchange glances, trying to stifle their laughter as the two of you go back and forth. Karina nudges you playfully. “Looks like you two are back to your old routine.”

You shoot her a sidelong glance, annoyed but unable to hide a small smile. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his smirk never fading. Every time you catch him looking, you feel a mix of frustration and unease. His gaze is unrelenting, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“What are you staring at?” you snap, catching him in the act.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, his expression innocent. “Just observing. Is that a problem?”

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. “Maybe if you had something better to do than harass me, you wouldn’t have to be so nosy.”

He chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy watching you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You glare at him, feeling your irritation spike. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a compliment.”

Sunghoon shrugs, still smirking. “Suit yourself.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

After lunch, you head to your next class with a sense of relief, hoping to escape the tension of the cafeteria. As you settle into your seat, the classroom buzzes with the usual pre-class chatter. You glance around, hoping to avoid any more interactions with Sunghoon, but he’s in the same class, sitting a few rows behind you.

The teacher arrives, and the room quiets down as the lesson begins. You try to focus on the lecture, but the lingering effects of the lunchtime bickering keep your thoughts scattered. Every now and then, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes on you, though you avoid turning around to confirm it.

Halfway through the class, you feel a small piece of paper land softly on your desk. You glance down to find a note with neat handwriting:

*“Can we at least pretend to be civil? I promise I’m not plotting your demise.”*

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You scribble a quick reply:

“Why start now? It’s more fun to keep you on your toes.”

You fold the note and toss it back over your shoulder, hoping it will reach him without drawing too much attention. A few moments later, you see Sunghoon’s hand reach forward to grab it, his expression unreadable.

The rest of the class proceeds in a blur of lectures and notes. The occasional glances you and Sunghoon exchange are filled with unspoken tension, but you both manage to keep your interactions to a minimum.

At the end of your lecture, you pack up your things and make your way out of the classroom. You’re heading down the hall when you hear Sunghoon’s voice behind you.

“Hey, wait up.”

You stop, turning to see him catching up with you. He’s wearing a casual expression, though there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Seriously? What now?” you ask, trying to keep your tone even.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you, and he seems to consider his next words carefully. “So, I was thinking… why don’t you come over to my place later?”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “For what? We already had our… whatever that was.”

Sunghoon gives you a knowing look, his smirk widening. “Come on, you know you’re curious. Besides, you know you want me.”

You feel a rush of heat at his words, and you try to maintain your composure. “And what happened to it being a one-night thing? Are you trying to make this a regular thing now?”

Sunghoon’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you. Either way, I think you’re interested.”

You hesitate, feeling the pull of his words. The desire that was ignited the night before is still burning strong, and you find yourself tempted despite your better judgment.

With a sigh, you give in, unable to resist the allure of what he’s offering. “Alright, fine. I’ll come over. But just to see what you have in mind.” Sunghoon’s smile broadens, clearly pleased with your decision. “Great. see you later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that night, you stand outside Sunghoon’s, house, or rather mansion. With a deep breath, you ring the doorbelll, and a moment later, Sunghoon opens the door. His eyes rake over you, and there’s that cocky familiar smirk on his face. “Youre here,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. There’s no hint of surprise, just a kind of smug statisfaction, like he knew you’d come.

“Yeah,” you reply, stepping inside “so what’s this all about?” Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He just walks past you, heading into the foyer. You follow, your curiosity piqued, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker back to you with that same intent look. He turns around suddenly, before you can even process what’s happening, he’s closing the distance between you, leaning in like he’s about to kiss you.

“Woah wait,” you say quickly, pressing a hand against him firm chest to stop him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sunghoon pauses, eyebrows raised, but there’s no real apology in his expression. “What do you think in doing?” he counters, his voice low, almost daring him to challenge you. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. “I didn’t come here just to… you know.”

He smirks, leaning in just enough that you feel the warmth of his breath. “Then why did you come here?”

You hesitate, caught between wanting to play it cool and the undeniable pull you feel toward him. “Maybe I was curious.” Sunghoon chuckles, “You’re here because you want this, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand grazing your hip lightly, testing your boundaries.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

His smirk widens. “I know enough.” He leans in again, and this time, his lips brush against your neck, a bold move that sends a jolt of heat through you. You bite your lip, figuring the urge to melt into his touch. “I didn’t say you could—“

“Then stop me,” he challenges, his voice a whisper against your skin. Your mind races every logical thought battling against the desire that’s been simmering between you since the other night. You hate how easily he gets under your skin, how is arrogance is both infuriating and strangely alluring. But instead of pushing him away, you find yourself lingering, testing the r limits just like he is.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, half annoyed, half breathless. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression smug but hungry. “Yet I don’t see you walking away.”

You hate that he’s right. Instead of anything else, you meet his gaze head on, feeling that dangerous spark between you flicker into something more. “Just shut up and kiss me,” you say, finally giving in, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. And he does—without hesitation, with the kind of intensity that makes your head spin. It’s heated, unrestrained, and nothing like you imagined, and yet somehow it’s exactly what you wanted.

With a frustrated sigh, you put a hand on his chest and push him back a step. “Okay, seriously, what is this?” you demand, trying to keep your tone steady. “We can’t just keep… doing this whenever we feel like it. It’s stupid.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking way too amused for your liking. “Why not? You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

You shoot him a glare. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just… I don’t want this to get messy.”

He smirks, clearly entertained by your struggle. “Messy? You mean you don’t want people to know you like kissing me?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I don’t like anything about you, Sunghoon. But if we’re being honest, there’s… something here, and I don’t see it going away anytime soon.”

His grin widens, and you want to slap it right off his face. “So, what? You’re proposing a deal?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe. Friends with benefits. No strings attached, no drama, no catching feelings.”

Sunghoon chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. “Friends? I don’t think we’re even close to that.”

“Fine,” you snap, annoyed that he’s right. “Enemies with benefits then. Just… an arrangement. To get this out of our systems.”

His gaze darkens, and for a second, you think you see something flicker there, something unreadable. But then he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “And what makes you think I’d agree to that?”

You raise your chin, meeting his challenge head-on. “Because you want this just as much as I do. Maybe more.”

He pauses, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smile. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he says, his voice low. “But here’s the deal: we do this my way. No whining, no complaining, and you definitely don’t get to pretend you don’t want it.”

You scowl, hating how cocky he looks, how certain he is that you’ll cave. “Fine,” you bite back. “But don’t think for a second that this means I like you.”

He laughs, the sound rich and mocking. “Trust me, I’d hate it if you did.”

You feel your blood boil at his arrogance, but there’s a thrill in it too, in the way you both seem to enjoy this game. “Deal,” you snap, holding out your hand.

He takes it, but instead of shaking, he pulls you in closer, his lips just inches from yours. “Just remember,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours, “this doesn’t change anything. I still can’t stand you.”

You smirk, matching his intensity. “Right back at you.”

And before you know it, his lips are crashing against yours again, and all that frustration and anger blurs into something reckless and wild. For now, you’ll play his game, but you know this is far from over.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, the “arrangement” with Sunghoon becomes a twisted game of secrecy and tension. You find yourself sneaking glances in class, meeting him in darkened hallways between periods, and exchanging heated looks across crowded lunch tables. The two of you are constantly dancing on the edge of discovery, and it’s becoming harder to hide the intensity simmering between you.

It starts small. The accidental brush of fingers when passing by in the hallway, the way his eyes linger a little too long when you’re speaking. But then, it escalates. The stolen moments between classes turn into late-night texts and spontaneous meetings wherever you can find some privacy. Empty classrooms, deserted stairwells, even the back of the library—places where no one would think to find the two of you together. The more time passes, the harder it gets to keep up the charade.

You’re starting to notice the way his friends glance between you two, confused by the sudden silences or the shared looks you forget to hide. Jay catches you one morning when you’re walking out of the library with Sunghoon following a few steps behind, your hair slightly mussed, your lips redder than usual.

“What’s going on there?” he asks, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You and Sunghoon plotting world domination or something?”

You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. “Please. He’s too much of an idiot for that.”

But Jay looks unconvinced, his gaze flicking back to where Sunghoon is standing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk that’s all too knowing. “Sure,” Jay says, dragging out the word like he’s not buying it.

At lunch, it’s even worse. Sunghoon sits across from you, his foot nudging yours under the table. It’s subtle, but it’s enough to send a jolt up your spine. You kick him back, hard, and he just chuckles, leaning back in his chair like he’s thoroughly enjoying the game.

“What are you two whispering about?” Yuna asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. You’re both quick to cover it up, but it’s obvious that your friends are starting to catch on.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon says smoothly, his voice annoyingly casual. “Just telling Y/N that she looks like she needs more sleep. Those dark circles are really showing.”

Your jaw clenches, but you force a sweet smile, playing along. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll sleep just fine once I stop seeing your face every day.”

He grins, but there’s a flicker of something more heated in his eyes, something you recognize all too well. “Yeah, right.”

Karina frowns, sensing the tension that seems to hang in the air whenever you two are in the same room. “Seriously, what is up with you guys?” she asks, tilting her head.

You wave it off, laughing a little too loudly. “We’re just being our usual selves. You know how it is—can’t stand each other.”

But your friends are starting to notice the little things. The way Sunghoon’s gaze always seems to drift in your direction, the way you keep sneaking out of group study sessions with flimsy excuses, only to return looking flustered and breathless. Sunoo even catches you and Sunghoon exchanging hushed words in the corner of the hallway, too close for comfort, and he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Are you two planning a secret mission, or is there something else we should know?” he asks, his tone playful but probing.

Sunghoon just shrugs, but you can feel his eyes on you, daring you to say something. “No mission,” he replies coolly, “unless it’s trying to survive Y/N’s terrible attitude.”

You force a laugh, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away. “Yeah, well, some of us have better things to do than deal with you, Sunghoon.”

But it’s getting harder to pretend, harder to keep the fire between you from spilling over in front of everyone else. Every time he’s near, it feels like the world narrows down to just the two of you, a constant push and pull that’s impossible to ignore. The stolen kisses, the midnight texts, the moments of heated bickering that seem to blur into something more—it’s becoming too much to hide.

And it’s only a matter of time before someone figures it out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You grip the sheets of your bed, lip caught between your teeth as sunghoon is under your duvet, tonguing your wet entrance, heat pooling in your belly, felling the intensity of your orgasm creeping up on you.

It’s all cut short when your door bursts open without warning, and Karina barges in, her voice already raised. “Y/N, I swear I’m going to lose my mind—!”

You freeze, your heart stopping in your chest. “Karina!” you squeak, quickly yanking the sheets up to your chin. “What happened to knocking?”

Karina stops mid-rant, blinking at you. “Oh, come on, like I ever knock?” she scoffs, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Anyway, you will not believe what Heeseung just did—”

She’s moving closer to the bed, and you panic, shifting slightly to keep Sunghoon hidden beneath the covers. You can feel him tense up, and his hand slips to your thigh under the sheets, pinching you playfully. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp, kneeing him as a warning.

Karina continues her rant, oblivious. “I mean, he had the nerve to ditch me for practice again, and I’m just—ugh, I needed to vent to someone who understands!”

Your mind races, desperately trying to keep her attention away from the suspicious lump between your legs. “That sounds… really frustrating,” you say, a bit too brightly. “But maybe just, you know, talk to him?”

Karina flops down on the edge of your bed, dangerously close to Sunghoon’s concealed figure. “Oh, I’ll talk to him, alright. I’m just so sick of his stupid excuses—”

Sunghoon’s fingers press into your clit under the sheets. He’s grinning, enjoying the situation far too much. You jab him again, your heart racing.

Karina glances at you, finally noticing your tense posture. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird,” she says, her brows furrowing.

You force a laugh, your voice too high. “I’m fine! Just… woke up. Didn’t expect you to burst in like that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you care if I burst in? And why are you so… red?”

You feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Uh, just… hot in here,” you stammer, shifting to keep Sunghoon completely out of sight.

Karina looks like she’s about to press further, but then she sighs, clearly more focused on her Heeseung drama. “Whatever, I just needed to get that off my chest. He drives me insane!”

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I get it. He’s… Heeseung, you know?” Karina gives you a small smile, her frustration easing. “Thanks for listening. And seriously, you look so weird right now.”

You laugh nervously. “Yeah, just tired.”

Finally, she stands up, heading toward the door. “Alright, I’ll leave you to… whatever you were doing. I’m gonna go call him and give him a piece of my mind.”

You nod eagerly. “Good luck with that!”

As soon as she leaves, you exhale in relief, lifting the cover to eye Sunghoon, who’s still grinning like an idiot. “What?” he whispers, amused.

“What?” you repeat, incredulous. “You almost got us caught, that’s what!”

He chuckles, pulling you back down under the sheets. “Relax. She didn’t notice a thing.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is still racing from the close call. “You’re lucky,” you mutter.

Sunghoon just leans in closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You love the thrill,” he murmurs.

And damn it, you hate that he’s right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It's late, the night air cool against your skin as you lean against the wall outside the school building, waiting for Sunghoon. You don't even know why you agreed to meet him here. Maybe because he seemed so insistent, or maybe because a part of you wanted to see him, even though you’d never admit it.

He arrives moments later, his footsteps heavy as he approaches. There’s a different energy about him tonight—something serious, something intense. His usual smirk is nowhere to be found, and his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. He stops in front of you, a little too close, and you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

“What’s this about?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze boring into yours like he’s searching for something, something he can’t quite find. You shift on your feet, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Sunghoon?” you prompt, your voice wavering just slightly.

He finally speaks, his tone lower than usual. “I’ve been thinking… about us,” he says, the words almost hesitant, like he’s testing them out.

You blink, caught off guard. “Us?”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah, Y/N, us. You and me… whatever this is.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your face neutral. “I thought we agreed it’s nothing,” you reply, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrow, frustration flashing in his gaze. “Yeah, that’s what we said,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me anymore.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. You’ve never seen him like this—so open, so exposed. “Sunghoon, I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you say carefully.

He takes a step closer, his expression more intense. “I’m saying that I’ve caught myself… thinking about you. A lot. When you’re not around, I’m wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with. I hate that it bothers me when I see you talking to other guys, and I can’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else.”

You feel a wave of panic rising in your chest. This is too much, too fast. You press your back harder against the wall as if trying to create more distance between you. “Sunghoon, this was never supposed to be serious,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I know, and I tried to keep it that way. But every time I see you, every time we’re together… I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it.”

You shake your head, refusing to let his words sink in. “You don’t mean that,” you insist, more to yourself than to him. “You’re just saying this because it’s… new or whatever. It’ll pass.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he moves even closer, leaving barely any space between you. “No, Y/N, it won’t. I’ve tried to stop feeling this way, but I can’t. And I know you feel something too, even if you won’t admit it.”

Your pulse quickens, and you feel your resolve starting to crumble. “I don’t—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“Stop lying,” he says firmly, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. “You’re scared, I get it. But don’t pretend like this is all just a game to you.”

You feel a flash of anger, your defenses rising. “What if it is, Sunghoon? What if I don’t want anything more than what we already have?”

His expression falters for a moment, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “Then I guess I’ve made a mistake,” he murmurs, taking a step back.

You feel a pang in your chest, a sharp, unexpected ache. “Sunghoon…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

For a second, you want to reach out, to say something, anything, to make that look on his face go away. But the fear of letting your guard down, of admitting that he might be right, keeps you silent.

He takes another step back, his expression hardening. “I won’t bother you about it again,” he says, his voice cold. “Let’s just go back to pretending like none of this ever happened.”

You nod, though you feel a tightness in your throat. “Yeah, let’s do that,” you say quietly, even though your chest aches with a feeling you don’t want to name.

Sunghoon turns and walks away, and you’re left standing there, the cool night air biting at your skin. You watch him go, feeling something inside you break just a little, and you wonder if maybe you’ve made a mistake too.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next morning at school, everything feels heavier. The halls are crowded, but it’s like there’s a spotlight following you, and you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows. You make your way to your locker, avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially Sunghoon.

You don’t see him at first, but you feel him—his presence looming in the periphery. It’s like he’s everywhere, watching you, and it makes your skin prickle with nerves. You busy yourself with rearranging your textbooks, trying to calm the storm inside your head.

“Hey, Y/N,” Karina chirps, appearing beside you. Her usual bright smile is there, but her eyes are curious, searching your face. “Are you okay? You seemed a little… off yesterday.”

You force a smile, gripping your locker door tighter than necessary. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

She studies you for a second longer, then nods. “Well, you should have come to dinner with us last night. It was a total mess, as always, but fun.”

You nod absently, not really listening. Your eyes flick over Karina’s shoulder and catch Sunghoon’s gaze across the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Y/N?” Karina prompts, bringing your attention back to her. “You’re zoning out again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Karina glances over her shoulder, following your line of sight. Her brow furrows slightly. “You’ve been weird around Sunghoon lately,” she remarks. “Did something happen?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly shake your head. “No, nothing. Why would you think that?”

She shrugs, unconvinced. “I don’t know… Just a feeling.”

You’re saved from having to respond when the bell rings. You grab your books and make a beeline for your next class, trying to ignore the heat of Sunghoon’s stare burning into your back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Class drags on painfully. You can’t focus. Your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and annoyance. You thought sneaking around with Sunghoon would be fun, a game—a way to blow off steam. But now it’s getting messy, and you’re starting to feel the consequences.

When the bell finally rings, you bolt out of the classroom, desperate for fresh air. But as soon as you turn the corner, you’re yanked into an empty hallway.

Sunghoon.

His grip on your arm is firm, and his eyes are intense, searching yours. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low.

You pull your arm free, glaring at him. “What’s there to talk about, Sunghoon? We agreed this was supposed to be casual. No strings, remember?”

He frowns, clearly irritated by your tone. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore, does it?”

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s because you’re making it weird. Just… back off a little, okay?”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a step closer. “Back off? You’re the one acting all paranoid, Y/N.”

“Maybe because you won’t stop staring at me like everyone else can’t see it!” you snap back, your voice rising. “This was supposed to be simple. But you’re turning it into something… complicated.”

He scoffs, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe because it is complicated. Or have you not noticed?”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, the way his closeness makes your heart race. “Don’t do this, Sunghoon,” you warn, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you’d like.

He pauses, his gaze softening just for a second. “Do what?”

“Make this more than it is,” you whisper, feeling a knot form in your throat. “Because I can’t… I won’t.”

Sunghoon’s expression hardens again, and he leans back, crossing his arms defensively. “Fine,” he mutters. “If that’s how you want it.”

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Yeah. It is.”

He nods curtly, stepping away, his face unreadable. “Good. See you around, then,” he says before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you standing in the empty hallway with your heart in your throat.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days are torture. Sunghoon keeps his distance, and you tell yourself it’s for the best. But every time you see him, every time you catch his eyes across the cafeteria or in class, there’s a hollow ache in your chest that you can’t ignore.

Your friends notice the tension. They ask questions, but you shrug it off, pretending everything’s fine. But you can’t stop replaying your last conversation with Sunghoon, the way his face looked when you told him to back off. You hate how much you miss him, even if you’d never admit it to anyone, especially not to him.

One afternoon, as you’re walking to your car after school, you spot him leaning against a tree nearby, talking to some girl you don’t recognize. He’s smiling, that same smile that used to be reserved for your private moments. Something sharp twists in your chest, and you quickly look away, anger flaring up.

He catches your glance and, for a moment, his smile falters. But then he leans in closer to the girl, laughing at something she says, and your stomach churns with a mix of jealousy and frustration.

You grip your bag tighter, feeling a sting behind your eyes. This is exactly why you didn’t want things to get complicated. You turn away, refusing to look back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sunghoon avoids you. He’s usually the first one to shoot a teasing remark your way, but he’s silent. The hallways feel strangely empty without his usual jabs, and your friends are starting to notice the shift between you two.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Karina asks, as the two of you walk to lunch. Her tone is half-exasperated, half-amused, but you know she’s genuinely curious. “You and Sunghoon, I mean. There’s definitely more tension than usual.”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but your stomach twists with anxiety. “When aren’t we fighting?” you mutter.

She gives you a knowing look, but thankfully doesn’t push it further. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take without your feelings bubbling over. You’re determined to get through lunch without letting Sunghoon get under your skin, but when you enter the cafeteria, you spot him immediately.

He’s at your usual table, talking to Heeseung, but his gaze is elsewhere. The second you walk in, his eyes find yours, and there’s a fleeting moment of something unreadable in his expression. A flash of frustration? Longing? You can’t be sure.

You take a deep breath and head over, sliding into your usual seat. Karina sits next to you, and for a moment, everything feels normal. But then Sunghoon starts talking.

“So,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes locked on you, “Heeseung, heard you and Karina had another spat. What was it this time? You didn’t say ‘I love you’ enough?”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, but Karina just laughs, lightly smacking Heeseung’s arm. “Don’t listen to him, babe. He’s just deflecting from his own issues,” she teases.

Sunghoon smirks, but there’s no real humor in it. “I don’t have issues, Karina. Just people who like to make things complicated,” he says, glancing at you.

You feel your face heat up, irritation boiling over. “Oh, please,” you snap back. “Like you’re the picture of simplicity.”

He leans back in his chair, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Never said I was. But at least I’m honest about it.”

Your chest tightens. “Honest?” you scoff. “You’ve been playing games from the start, Sunghoon.”

He shrugs, feigning indifference. “Maybe I have. But at least I know what I want.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “And what’s that, exactly?”

He leans forward, his voice dropping low so only you can hear. “You. But you already knew that.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a second, you’re frozen, caught between wanting to slap him and… something else. Something you’re not ready to face.

“You’re such a—” you start, but before you can finish, Sunghoon’s foot nudges yours under the table, and your breath hitches.

You’re hyper-aware of the table between you, the curious glances from your friends, and the heat creeping up your neck. Sunghoon’s gaze is still on you, challenging, waiting for your response.

You can’t help the retort that slips out. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a small grin. “More than you know.”

Before you can shoot back another insult, heeseung cuts in, oblivious to the tension. “Okay, what is happening between you two? I feel like I missed an entire chapter here.”

Sunghoon doesn’t even glance at Heeseung. “Nothing’s happening. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you reply, forcing a smile, but your voice sounds strained, even to your own ears.

Heeseung and Karina exchange a look, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, whatever you say,” Karina murmurs with a smirk. “Just remember, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

Sunghoon’s lips twitch in amusement, and he finally looks away, leaning back in his chair as if nothing happened. But under the table, his foot is still lightly brushing against yours, sending sparks up your leg.

You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to let him see how much he’s getting to you.

But you can’t help it—the sensation, the frustration, and the undeniable attraction between you are all mixing into one chaotic storm.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and everyone begins to gather their things. You stand, trying to shake off the tension still lingering between you and Sunghoon, but Karina has other ideas.

“Hey, Y/N,” she calls, grabbing your arm just as you’re about to head out. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You nod, feeling a knot form in your stomach. She leads you to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the crowd. You can tell by the look on her face that she’s not letting this go.

Karina crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Okay, seriously,” she starts, her voice low but pointed. “What the fuck was that back there?”

You blink, trying to feign ignorance. “What was what?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. You and Sunghoon… there was some serious tension at lunch. It was like watching a live soap opera, and I feel like I’ve missed a few episodes.”

You sigh, glancing around to make sure no one is listening in. “It’s nothing, Karina,” you insist, but even to your own ears, it sounds unconvincing.

Karina raises an eyebrow. “Nothing? Really? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like something. A big something.”

You bite your lip, unsure of how much to tell her. “Look, we… we just don’t get along. You know that.”

“Yeah, but this felt different,” she replies, not letting up. “Like, I don’t know, it almost seemed like… there was something more there.”

Her words hit a little too close to home, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, but Karina’s not buying it.

She leans in closer, her expression turning more serious. “Y/N, I’m your best friend. I know when something’s up. And that? That was definitely something.”

You hesitate, torn between the urge to confide in her and the fear of admitting the truth. “It’s complicated,” you finally admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Karina’s eyes widen with intrigue. “Complicated how?”

You swallow hard, looking away. “I don’t even know how to explain it. We’ve just… been hanging out a little more lately. And things got… weird.”

“Weird how?” she presses, clearly not letting this go.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “We’ve been… hooking up,” you confess, your voice almost inaudible.

Karina’s mouth falls open in shock. “Wait, what? You and Sunghoon?” She looks like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or gasp. “Since when?”

“A few weeks,” you admit, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety now that the secret is out.

Karina blinks, taking a moment to process. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would last this long,” you say defensively. “I thought it was just going to be a one-time thing, but then… it wasn’t.”

Karina’s expression softens slightly. “And how do you feel about it? About him?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I don’t know. It’s confusing. Half the time, I can’t stand him. The other half… well, you saw how lunch went.”

Karina lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I did. It’s like you two can’t decide whether you want to kill each other or… not.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

Karina nudges you with her elbow. “Just be careful, okay? Sunghoon’s not exactly known for being straightforward with his feelings.”

You nod, appreciating her concern. “I know. Trust me, I’m not expecting anything… much. It’s just… whatever it is.”

Karina gives you a knowing smile. “Alright, but just remember, I’m here if you need to talk. Or, you know, if you need me to kick his ass.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension ease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As you walk back to class, you feel a little lighter, but also more uncertain than ever. Because now that Karina knows, it feels more real. And that scares you more than you’d like to admit.

You pause for a moment, letting your thoughts catch up to your racing heart. Sunghoon had admitted it first, hadn't he? In his own cryptic way, he’d confessed he wanted more than just the back-and-forth, more than just the thrill of the chase. You remember the way he looked at you that day, his eyes full of frustration and something else — something softer, something you weren’t ready to face.

He’d said he wanted you. He’d practically dared you to deny that you wanted him, too. And ever since, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that it didn't matter — that it was just some passing thing, some fling to fill the boredom. But it wasn't. It never was.

You sigh deeply, leaning back against the wall of the building. The memory of his words still lingers like a brand on your skin: "I want you." It had sounded so simple when he said it, so sure. Like he wasn’t afraid of the mess that came with it.

You’ve been too afraid to admit it to yourself, but now… now it feels like you’ve been fighting a battle that’s already lost.

He confessed his feelings first, but you’ve been holding back, afraid to let yourself feel the same. Afraid of what it might mean, of how it could change things between you. You thought you could control it, could manage the situation and keep your distance, but all you’ve managed to do is dig yourself deeper into this mess.

You’re tired. Tired of fighting your own heart, tired of pretending you’re unaffected. Tired of feeling like you're caught in this tug-of-war between desire and denial.

*He’s already put himself out there,* you remind yourself. *He made the first move.* And that thought alone is enough to push you forward, to make you realize that maybe it’s your turn now. Your turn to decide if you want to keep running or if you’re brave enough to let yourself fall.

Pushing off the wall, you feel a wave of determination settle over you. If you’re going to do this, you need to find him and be honest. Not just with him, but with yourself.

Because you don’t want to keep this back-and-forth going, this constant dance of pushing and pulling. You want to know where you stand — with him, and with whatever this thing between you is becoming.

You take a deep breath and start walking, knowing exactly where to find him. And this time, you’re not going to let him get away without an answer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You find Sunghoon by the lockers, leaning against the metal with that typical nonchalant pose he seems to have perfected. His head is tilted down, focused on his phone, but he looks up as you approach, sensing your presence. His eyes flicker with surprise for just a moment before his usual guarded expression returns.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice laced with that familiar arrogance, but there’s something else there, too—an undercurrent of curiosity, maybe even hope.

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “We need to talk,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You try to sound firm, but even you can hear the slight waver in your voice. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Oh, so now you want to talk?” he retorts, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “After avoiding me all day?”

You roll your eyes, feeling the tension bubble up again. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snap, even though you both know it’s a lie. “I just needed… time to think.”

He straightens up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Think about what?” he asks, and his tone is a little softer now, less mocking.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of your next words pressing down on you. “About this. About us,” you say, your voice steadier now. “I’m tired of all this back and forth, Sunghoon. I’m tired of pretending like there’s nothing between us when we both know there is.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, his guard slips. “I told you how I felt,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the one who kept pretending it was just… nothing.”

You feel a pang of guilt twist in your stomach. “I know,” you admit, meeting his gaze head-on. “And I was wrong. I thought I could just… push it away, ignore it. But I can’t. Not anymore.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens, just a little. “So what are you saying?” he asks, his voice careful, as if he’s trying not to hope too much.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay honest. “I’m saying… I want to figure this out. I want to try… whatever this is between us. But I need you to be real with me, Sunghoon. No more games.”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve been real,” he says, his voice low and intense. “I’ve been real since that night at Karina’s party, and I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity in his words, by the way his eyes seem to bore into yours like he’s trying to see into your very soul. “I’m here now,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

Sunghoon takes another step closer, and now he’s right in front of you, his breath warm on your skin. “So what do you want?” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Do you want me, or are you still trying to convince yourself you don’t?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But then you realize you’ve known the answer all along. “I want you,” you admit, your voice steady, finally letting the truth slip past your lips. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like it’s nothing. I want to try… something real. But I don’t want it to be this constant push and pull, Sunghoon. I can’t keep doing that.”

Sunghoon’s lips curl into a small, almost relieved smile. “Then let’s stop playing games,” he says softly, leaning in closer. “Let’s see where this goes, no more pretending. Just you and me.”

You feel a strange sense of relief wash over you at his words, a weight lifting from your chest. “Okay,” you whisper, and it feels like the most honest thing you’ve said in a long time.

His smile widens just a fraction, and he closes the final distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. It’s not the frantic, heated kisses you’ve shared before—it’s slower, deeper, filled with a promise of something more.

And for the first time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. Finally moving in the same direction.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, things between you and Sunghoon change in ways you never could have anticipated. At first, it’s subtle — small shifts that only the two of you notice. You spend more time together between classes, sitting closer at lunch, and texting late into the night. The playful bickering is still there, but it’s softened somehow, more like an inside joke than a battle.

Your friends don’t notice at first. They’re used to seeing you and Sunghoon together, arguing about this or that, so the extra time you spend with him doesn't raise any immediate red flags. But eventually, the signs become too obvious to ignore.

One day at lunch, you’re sitting next to Sunghoon, your legs brushing under the table. His hand casually rests on the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally grazing your shoulder. Jay, seated across from you, narrows his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes curious.

You glance over at Sunghoon, who just smirks. “What do you mean?” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but you can feel the flush creeping up your neck.

Jay gestures between the two of you. “This,” he says, waving his hand. “You two. You’re being weird. Weird even for you two.”

Karina, who’s been listening in, gasps. “Oh my god,” she says, her eyes widening with realization. “Are you guys… together?”

The table goes silent for a second, everyone turning to look at you. Sunoo’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jake leans forward, looking like he’s trying to solve a particularly complicated math problem.

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin. “Depends,” he says casually. “What do you think?”

You elbow him in the side, rolling your eyes at his vague answer. “Yes,” you say, looking at your friends. “We’re… together. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Sunghoon echoes, feigning offense, and you shoot him a playful glare.

“Yes, kind of!” you insist, turning back to your friends, who are now staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re secretly an alien. “It’s… new.”

Heeseung chuckles. “I mean, I’m not totally surprised,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You two have been like a powder keg waiting to explode for years.”

Yuna nods eagerly. “Honestly, it was about time,” she adds, and you can’t help but laugh at her bluntness.

Jungwon, however, looks mildly concerned. “So, you’re serious?” he asks, glancing between you and Sunghoon. “Like, actually serious?”

Sunghoon looks at you, his smile softening just a bit, and he nods. “Yeah,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. “We’re serious.”

Your friends take a moment to process this. Then Jake grins. “Alright,” he says, raising his glass of soda. “To Y/N and Sunghoon. The enemies-to-lovers arc we didn’t know we needed.”

You laugh, and everyone joins in, raising their glasses. It’s strange, in a way, seeing everyone so quickly accept what feels like a massive shift in your life. But it also feels… right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few days, things become more obvious. You and Sunghoon are no longer trying to hide. He reaches for your hand in the hallways, and you let him. He kisses you on the cheek in front of the others, and they pretend to gag but smile knowingly when they think you’re not looking.

You catch Karina’s eye one afternoon, and she gives you a grin that’s part smug, part excited. She leans over, whispering, “So… you finally admitted you like him, huh?”

You smile, shrugging a bit. “Guess so,” you say, and she laughs, nudging you with her elbow.

The hardest part, strangely enough, is getting used to the change yourself. It’s still weird to not have to hide how you feel, to be able to smile at Sunghoon without wondering if anyone is watching. But with each passing day, it gets a little easier.

And it’s not like everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon still argue — of course, you do. That’s just how you are. But there’s something different now, something that feels less like anger and more like… passion. Like you’re both on the same side, even when you’re bickering.

There are moments when you catch him looking at you from across the room, a small smile on his lips, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. And in those moments, you know — this is real. This is right.

Your friends have stopped asking questions. They’ve accepted that this is your new normal, and honestly, so have you. The only thing left to do is see where it takes you.

taglist: @awqken @hollyoongs @enhastolemyheart @wonnienyang @skzenhalove @slvrnm @lovesangyeon @velvetkisscs @soobieboo @jakeflvrz @woorcve @moonpri @blockbusterhee @yjwsgf @doublebunv @moon4moony @woniebae @moon368 @jakeswifewithtwokids @love4hee @ikeryn @univershoon @indigoez @ramenoil @iilwji @riribell @ilabjungwon @tunafishyfishylike @psh23xie @toodeloosoo @leov3rse @onlyhyunjin @nyxtwixx @mnxnii @whateverhoon @jayrelics @laurradoesloveu @heeswif3y @enhalxvr @yunhoswrldddd @nikiswifiee @aiiselle90210 @lixiebokie @lelsforlino @eneiyri @punchbug9-blog @babystrlla @hee-yunie @hoonics @notevenheretbh1

[mellosdrawings]

When you need to declare your love to your wife but it is so strong you can't help but revert back to french.

You know the perk of being french ? I can write Rook rambling haha !

(Though I am incapable of writing poetry, so here is the poem I used and its approximate translation:

Je respire où tu palpites,

Tu sais ; à quoi bon, hélas !

Rester là si tu me quittes,

Et vivre si tu t'en vas ?

(I breathe where you throb, you know ;

What for, alas! stay here if you leave me, and live if you go away?)

A quoi bon vivre, étant l'ombre

De cet ange qui s'enfuit ?

A quoi bon, sous le ciel sombre,

N'être plus que de la nuit ?

(What good is living, being the shadow of this fleeing angel?

What for, under the dark sky, being from the night only?)

Je suis la fleur des murailles

Dont avril est le seul bien.

Il suffit que tu t'en ailles

Pour qu'il ne reste plus rien.

(I am the flower of your walls for which April is the only good.

You only need to leave for me to be left with nothing.)

Tu m'entoures d'Auréoles;

Te voir est mon seul souci.

Il suffit que tu t'envoles

Pour que je m'envole aussi.

(You surround me with Halos;

I care only about seeing you.

You need only to take flight for me to fly too.)

Si tu pars, mon front se penche ;

Mon âme au ciel, son berceau,

Fuira, dans ta main blanche

Tu tiens ce sauvage oiseau.

(Should you leave, my front/forehead shall lean ;

My soul in the sky, its cradle, will flee,

In your white hand you hold this wild bird.)

Que veux-tu que je devienne

Si je n'entends plus ton pas ?

Est-ce ta vie ou la mienne

Qui s'en va ? Je ne sais pas.

(What would I become, should I not hear your steps anymore?

Is it your life or mine that is fleeing ?

I cannot tell?)

Quand mon orage succombe,

J'en reprends dans ton coeur pur ;

Je suis comme la colombe

Qui vient boire au lac d'azur.

(When my thunder dies down, I take some from your pure heart ;

I am like the dove that just drank in the azur lake.)

L'amour fait comprendre à l'âme

L'univers, salubre et béni ;

Et cette petite flamme

Seule éclaire l'infini

(Love makes the soul understand the universe, healthful and blessed ;

And this lonely little flame shines upon the endless)

Sans toi, toute la nature

N'est plus qu'un cachot fermé,

Où je vais à l'aventure,

Pâle et n'étant plus aimé.

(Without you, all of nature is only a closed cell where I go on an adventure,

Pale and no longer beloved.)

Sans toi, tout s'effeuille et tombe ;

L'ombre emplit mon noir sourcil ;

Une fête est une tombe,

La patrie est un exil.

(Without you, everything falls apart ;

Shadows fill my dark eyebrow ;

A feast/party is a tomb,

The homeland is an exile.)

Je t'implore et réclame ;

Ne fuis pas loin de mes maux,

O fauvette de mon âme

Qui chantes dans mes rameaux !

(I beg and demand ;

Do not flee any longer from my pain,

O warbler of my soul who sings in my twigs!)

De quoi puis-je avoir envie,

De quoi puis-je avoir effroi,

Que ferai-je de la vie

Si tu n'es plus près de moi ?

(What could I want?

What could I be afraid of?

What would I do of life without you by my side?)

Tu portes dans la lumière,

Tu portes dans les buissons,

Sur une aile ma prière,

Et sur l'autre mes chansons.

(You carry in the light,

You carry in the bushes,

On a wing my prayers,

On the other my songs.)

Que dirai-je aux champs que voile

L'inconsolable douleur ?

Que ferai-je de l'étoile ?

Que ferai-je de la fleur ?

(What will I tell to the fields that hide my inconsolable pain?

What would I do of the star?

What would I do of the flower?)

Que dirai-je au bois morose

Qu'illuminait ta douceur ?

Que répondrai-je à la rose

Disant : " Où donc est ma soeur ?"

(What will I tell to the morose forest that illuminated your softness?

What will I answer at the rose asking "Where is my sister?")

J'en mourrai ; fuis, si tu l'oses.

A quoi bon, jours révolus !

Regarder toutes ces choses

Qu'elle ne regarde plus ?

(I would die ;

Flee if you dare.

What is the point, days gone! of looking at all those she no longer looks at?)

Que ferai-je de la lyre,

De la vertu, du destin ?

Hélas ! et, sans ton sourire,

Que ferai-je du matin ?

(What would I do of the lyre, of virtue, of destiny?

Alas! And, without your smile,

What would I do of the morning?)

Que ferai-je, seul, farouche,

Sans toi, du jour et des cieux,

De mes baisers sans ta bouche,

Et de mes pleurs sans tes yeux !

(What would I do, alone, wild, without you, of days and heavens,

Of my kisses without your lips,

And of my tears without your eyes!)

Il suffit que tu t'envoles pour que je m'envoles aussi - Victor Hugo

(You need only take flight for me to fly too))

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I WANT YOU CLOSER, CLOSER EVEN STILL ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; in the midst of a rainshower, you run into your mysterious classmate.

word count; 6.1k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, implied no curses au, fluffy summer vibes, forced proximity (my beloved <3), pining, very shoujo manga coded, vague allusions to sugu having a troubled background, (kind of same w reader), switching povs, gojo slander, stsg implications if you squint (my brand), he’s a sweet sweet boy and i love him :((

a/n; teen sugu reminds me a lot of the kind upperclassman type of otome game li… with secret emotional baggage that makes his route really hard to complete….. anyway i dedicate this fic to hit mobage jujutsu kaisen: phantom parade PLEASE bring sugu home to me please please please ple

geto looks beautiful in the rain. 

it’s an embarrassing first thought to have, as he rounds the corner and comes into view. a black head of hair, making you stop in your tracks, breathe in a gulp of humid air.

you can’t help it, though.

it’s raining. droplets ricochet against the sidewalk in an endless cadence, the sky above you blanketed by gray clouds; enveloping your city in a summery shadow, the scent of hot concrete and blossoming hydrangeas. everything smells of a blistering summer, youth in a bottle cap. tasty on your tongue.

those very same hydrangeas surround him, on all sides, framing his figure like a painting come to life — splotches of colour, flecks of purple and pink and blue, clashing with the gray sky and the black umbrella in his hand. he looks a little disheveled, hair a little frizzy, bangs sticking to his skin. oddly at peace. when his eyes meet yours, you see a flash of recognition — a tiny spark in the amber hue. 

you take that as your cue to move closer. 

he waits for you, always so patient, smiling as you look both ways before crossing the street — shoes hitting the concrete in a steady thud, thud, thud. a splash from the puddle you step in.

you’re in a good mood. veins flooding with sugar and buzzing with joy, raindrops sticking to your skin and the plastic bag in your hand, absently humming along to a song playing through your headphones. your clothes are soaked, but you’re smiling; swinging the bag of treats as you walk. bags of chips, colourful lollipops, bottles of ramune, clinking together for every step you take. enough to last you a couple weeks. in your good mood, you ended up stocking up on your classmates’ favorites — bouncing on the balls of your feet at the thought of giving them away, seeing their satisfied little expressions.

you even got something for gojo. he’ll have to fight for it, obviously, but you look forward to seeing his face light up when he takes a bite of the soft mochi.

(you like giving them things. it’s fun. it makes you feel like a normal high school kid.)

nothing can dampen your spirits right now. the entire world smells of rain, and hydrangeas, and apple blossoms from the backyards behind you. a scent that creeps into your bloodstream, sneaks into your breath. a smile grows on your lips — blooming even brighter when you step into your classmate’s orbit.

”hey!” you chirp, raising a hand up in greeting.

”hey,” geto echoes, voice honeyed and smooth, bringing a hand up to wipe at his forehead. wet from the humid air. ”out on a walk?”

with a smile, you lift the plastic bag, grabbing his attention. clasping it tightly, with your wet fingers. ”just went to get some snacks. you?”

”i wanted to get some fresh air,” he smiles. eyeing you up and down. ”did you forget your umbrella?” 

silently, he takes in your appearance. your breathing is a tiny bit laboured, and the flimsy, oversized hoodie you’re wearing is sticking to your skin. it’s all that protects you from the steady downpour; no umbrella to be seen. you look small, tilting your head up, meeting his gaze. he feels the beginnings of a smile play at his lips. exasperated. all you do is blink, seemingly unbothered, as if you aren’t straight on the road to catching a cold. you can be a little scatterbrained. 

maybe that’s why he can’t help but dote on you.

(that’s what satoru calls it, at least. suguru thinks it’s just called being nice — not like satoru would know anything about that.)

”oh. no, i didn’t forget.” you scratch at the back of your neck. ”just didn’t know it was going to rain.”

the sudden downpour gave you no time to prepare, heavy and abrupt — clouds obscuring the glowing sun in what felt like no more than a second. like someone high above flicked the light switch of the world. all you could do was pull your hood up, try to walk under whatever apple tree you came across. it didn’t help much, though. 

you shift your weight from one foot to the other, soles weighed down with dew. sort of sheepish.

geto chuckles, raspy and soft. the sound makes your heart skip a beat. ”didn’t you see the weather report?”

”well, it… just slipped my mind, i guess.”

silently, you avert your gaze. now you remember — yaga-sensei did mention that, didn’t he? you heard him say it. but you just forgot.

geto is laughing at you, a little, from within his eyes; at least that’s the impression you get. so you continue, eager to defend your honour. 

”it’s fine, though,” you assure him, smiling brightly. a sunny grin. ”i like the rain!”

geto raises an unimpressed brow, but the expression fades away just as swiftly — giving way to something softer. ”you’re heading back to the dorms, right?” he asks, continuing once you give him a slight nod. ”then we can share.”

you blink. one moment passes, then two. but geto only smiles, shifting his umbrella a little, hoping you’ll get the hint. silently beckoning you over. 

it makes you feel oddly flustered.

in truth, you and him aren’t particularly close. he’s nice to you, sure, but geto is nice to everyone. you’d like to call him a friend, but what do you actually know about him? not much. 

suguru geto is a bit of an enigma. a little mysterious. he’s polite, well-mannered, and he seems like the most normal of your classmates — but the bar is in hell, because you know for a fact geto isn’t normal either. no normal guy deliberately chooses to keep his bangs like that. 

there’s a gap, there. a kind of inconsistency. he’s hard to approach, but he puts you at ease. pulls you in and scares you off. with a soft voice and kind smile, keen eyes and a heavy palm on your head. sometimes he brings you snacks when you study in the library, or helps you with homework. kind of like a dependable senpai. someone to lean on.

… but then there’s that gap. 

the real geto, who you’ve only seen glimpses of, only ever in gojo’s vicinity, is boyish and bright — he laughs and pouts and takes up space. he glows brighter than the sun. but the geto you’re seeing, right now, is more like the moon. wearing a polite, patient smile. standing up straight.

waiting for you to join him under his umbrella.

(he’s kind. but is he doing it because wants to, or because he feels obliged to?)

”… oh.” a pause. ”no, it’s fine!” you take a step back, quick to reassure him. ”i can walk there without it! i’m already soaked, anyway.”

geto observes you. for a moment, something in his expression flickers; a crease between his brows.

then he shakes his head. still wearing a comforting smile, the same one he always slips on when he’s around you. ”still. we don’t want you catching a cold,” he persists, sounding something like a nagging mother. ”you’ll miss the exam next week.”

and with that, your shoulders drop. 

right — the exam. the one you haven’t been studying for in the slightest, completely distracted by the feeling of summer in the air. the one you can’t fail, under any circumstances, because yaga-sensei can and will force you to take summer classes ad compensation. that exam. 

a wistful sigh leaves your lips. ”god, i wish.”

geto chuckles — a little deeper than usual. it makes your heart flutter. then he’s beckoning you over, again, with a slight shake of his head. 

”c’mon. there’s enough room for two.”

he gives you that same familiar smile, and you’re forced to admit that you might be slightly weak to it. something about the way his lips tug upwards, the light crinkle of his eyes. a certain glint in them that tells you he’s not budging on the issue. 

you’re still a little hesitant. but…

(this is a chance, isn’t it? a chance to bridge that gap between you.)

silently, shyly, you join him under his umbrella. shielding you from the still falling rain.

pitter patter, pitter patter. you don’t know where the rain ends and your own heartbeat begins. he’s so close — your shoulders nearly brushing together. it makes your nerves bubble up, in rhythm with the droplets bouncing off the cover up above. you feel stiff. the tiny, miniscule gap between you feels like a sweltering stove, radiating a heat that warns you to stay away. as if his touch could burn you. like this, you can even smell him; fresh laundry, an earthy cologne. the slightest hint of caffeine and tobacco. you blame it on shoko — the whole dormitory smells of cigarettes, thanks to her. 

it’s comforting, though. his scent. blending together with the aroma of rain, wet earth, blooming flowers. with his fragrance smoothing over all your senses, the closeness between you a constant reminder of the situation you’re in, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

all you do is murmur out a quick thanks, as you begin to walk, in tandem.

geto can’t help but steal a glance at you, out of the corner of his eye. you look a little meek, a little flustered. he hopes the narrow distance between you isn’t making you feel too uncomfortable. 

just to be sure, he angles his body away from yours. ever so slightly, one subtle step away, to make the gap a little wider. then, as discreetly as he can manage, he tilts the umbrella in your direction — not wanting the never-ending drops of rain to graze your skin. he can feel them, now, soaking through the material of his shirt, hitting his shoulder. but he doesn’t mind. to his relief, you don’t seem to notice. he’s pretty sure you’d protest; and as enjoyable as another friendly squabble would be, he’d prefer to avoid it for now.

you’re nice. accommodating, he thinks, in a subtle kind of way. always showing up with trinkets after your little outings, offering to get everyone a drink on your way to the vending machines. you’re friendly with the other two; always nagging at shoko to stop smoking, even when she just rolls her eyes and calls you a goody two shoes. recently, you’ve even started to be patient with satoru, even when he tries to get a rise out of you. it wasn’t like that at the start of the year. geto wonders what changed. 

he’s a little interested in you. just a little. you’re sweeter than the other two, easier to worry over. he saw you trip over your own shoelaces last week. you’re a little clumsy, a bit of a ditz — airheaded. maybe that’s why he can’t help but feel protective of you. satoru brushes everything off with a cheeky grin, and shoko is self-sustaining, but you’re often in need of a helping hand. the last time he tried that with the other two, they wouldn’t stop calling him mother geto until he smacked them over the head with satoru’s shounen jump issue. 

it makes him feel out of place — when he doesn’t have anything to tend to. itchy, a feeling of dread crawling up his throat. peace and quiet feels suffocating, when he isn’t in total control over it.

so, in his own way, small as it may be, geto enjoys taking care of you. grabbing you a carton of strawberry milk, or warding satoru away when he’s annoying you a little too much. he likes the smile you grace him with when he does. it’s pretty. and it’s all geto really knows about you — that, and that there’s a tenderness to you that’s hard to fake. it’s not much to go on.

so this is the perfect opportunity to learn more. 

(a heartfelt connection. something he’s always, always craved. something that maybe he can finally have, with satoru, and shoko, and you — 

if you’re willing, that is.)

”hey,” he starts, breaking the rainfilled silence. keeping his umbrella steady, leading you both away from a big puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. ”can i ask you something?”

you raise your head to look at him. blinking owlishly, at the sudden question, nerves beginning to rise again. he sounds kind of serious. did you do something? paranoia gnaws anxiously at the ridges of your ribs, but all you can do is swallow empty air and stammer out a meek reply.

”… uh, sure!”

geto glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours. that gaze of his is kind of heavy — the deep colour of his eyes coaxing you closer, luring you in. honey and amber, splotches of cedar and flecks of gold.

they’re pretty.

”this might be kind of a weird question,” he begins, reaching a hand up to adjust his bun, sneaking a finger under the black hair tie. voice light; to put you at ease. ”but i’m just curious.” 

he looks ahead, at the street before you, only meeting your stare once you give him a slight tilt of your head. then he parts his lips.

”why did you come here?”

you blink. 

silently, confusion painting the interior of your iris, you stare at him. waiting for a clarification that doesn’t come, before giving him a hesitant answer. ”… to get snacks?”

geto has the audacity to laugh, after such a vague question. the sound is light and breathy, melting together with the pitter patter of the rain, and for some reason it strikes you as sincere. ”not like that,” he grins. ”i mean, why did you come to the school in the first place?”

ah. 

that’s a different question. harder to answer. he must notice your hesitance, the puzzlement in your features, because he’s quick to elaborate. hiding a smile behind his fist, disguised as a cough.

(you’re sort of cute when you’re confused.)

”i mean — it’s an odd choice, isn’t it? far off the map, barely any students....” you nod along, and he continues. ”i don’t know about your background. but moving away from home must be kind of tough, right?” when he glances in your direction, you notice a sparkle of genuine curiosity in his eyes. ”so i was curious about your reason. if you feel comfortable telling me, i mean.”

a hum. it buzzes in your throat, absentminded, as you stare into space. brows furrowed. 

geto gives you time, as much time as you need, always willing to wait. for a minute or so, the only sounds that fill the space around you are the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the plastic cover of umbrella, and the sound of your shoes meeting puddles on the street. silently, you ponder the question. thinking of your answer.

geto has a point. you’ve been curious, too — about how your classmates ended up in such an eccentric little school, so detached from the rest of the world. a quirky private school in the middle of nowhere. you must all be a little eccentric yourselves. that’s probably why you feel so safe with them — you get the sense that you’re all lacking something. something that would ward normal kids away from such an unorthodox choice.

you could say you were just going with the flow. a relative of yours used to work with yaga-sensei, and heard about his position at a newly reinstated private school — heard that he was looking for students to fill the roster. 

so you accepted.

(if it was really that simple, geto would already have his answer.)

what drew you in, more than anything, was the promise of something new. a strange, small school, far away from home; from the people you know, the town you know, the life that you’ve lived. far away from the person you are, the person you was, the person you’ve always been.

an escape. that’s all it was. 

a way out.

he’s still waiting for your answer, even now, trying to read your thoughts off your face. eyes trailing over every contour. very briefly, you consider dodging the question — but his silent, steady presence squeezes a little honesty out of you. 

you want to give him a genuine answer.

”… i guess,” you begin, weighing the words on your tongue. they feel stale, a little awkward, but not dishonest. ”i wanted to stop being me for a bit.” 

the words are unexpected, surprising even to your own ears — like your mouth and your mind weren’t quite cooperating, one ahead of the other, one not weighing in on the honest choice. they catch geto off guard. 

he looks at you, silently, attempts to dissect your expression; but he doesn’t succeed. 

for a second, something flashes in his eyes. a glimmer that you just barely catch, that you can still sense behind his eyelids when they flutter shut. you’re not sure what to call it. recognition, maybe, or something like empathy. a sense of acknowledgement. it’s gone when he opens his eyes. 

he doesn’t look at you when he answers.

”… i get that.”

there’s a depth to his words that you’re afraid to uncover. you feel their weight, all the same, glancing up at him, studying his expression, the humid drops of dew that stick to his lashes. and you feel a tug. faint, non-existent, the string between your pinkies —

a growing connection. 

(it makes you feel oddly bare.)

all you can give him is a chuckle, a little breathless. ”do you?” you ask, grinning weakly. ”it’s a little melodramatic.”

geto only smiles. silent, comfort personified. there’s no judgement in his eyes, none whatsoever — because he knows exactly what you mean.

fleeing from the past. 

it’s a kind of murder, he thinks. a rebirth.

maybe the two of you are similar. similar in the sense that he recognizes the shadow in your eyes, the one he sometimes sees in mirrors; familiar in the sense that you both suffer from that same sickening awareness. 

(maybe you want the same thing he wants, what he’s always wanted — 

control.)

it’s a realization that creeps up on you, the both of you, slow and steady. a sense of kinship. it envelops you, cradles you close, in the same way molten clouds cover the summer sky.

geto isn’t lying, you can tell. he does get it. you know, just from that tilt of his voice, the way his eyelashes flutter, his absent shifting from one foot to another. and it soothes your worries.

everything is silent, for a bit. you look down at the asphalt, at your own reflection in a puddle, and geto gazes at the bushes of hydrangeas to his right. you feel safe, right next to him, under his umbrella. and he feels content to have you there. your shoulders brush together, for a moment, and it sends a jolt through your heartbeat.

geto inhales a breath.

”by the way —” 

”— have you studied for the exam?”

you both still. blurting out the words at the same time, turning to look at each other; sheepishly blinking in the other’s direction.

then he barks out a laugh.

”sorry,” he hums, a sleek smile on his lips. bright and sheepish. ”what was that? the exam?”

”ah — yeah,” you feel heat settle on the back of your neck, crawling up your ears. ”have you, um, studied for it at all?”

geto moves the umbrella from one arm to the other, smoothly directing you to stand on his right instead of his left. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, ghosting the fabric of your clothing. he stretches his free arm, a little stiff.

”yeah,” he exhales. ”not a lot, though.”

”really?” you blink up at him, trying not to blush at how easily he maneuvered you. stupid, stupid heartbeat. ”you strike me as the honour student type…”

geto scoffs. it leaves his lips before he can tug it back. ”satoru said the same thing.”

a breath spills from your lips, almost a chuckle. you’re not sure how to feel about being compared to gojo, of all people, but you’ll let it slide this once. ”well, you just kinda have that vibe.”

now he’s huffing, tethering on the edge of something childish, and your smile grows. you’re seeing him make a lot of new expressions today. 

”why, though?” comes a sigh. he must be playing it up, a little — you almost get fooled into thinking he’s pouting. ”is it the hair? i don’t even wear glasses anymore...”

”well —” you pause. ”hold on, you used to wear glasses?”

all you get is an absent hum. he doesn’t notice your wide, shellshocked eyes. ”when i was younger. i got rid of them a couple years back.”

“oh…” you try to imagine it, for a second. he’d look frighteningly good in them. just barely, you manage to keep yourself from saying it out loud. ”i think it’s more just your general personality. like, you’re responsible and polite… or something.”

and geto chuckles; the intersection between a teasing smile and a soft grin. it’s just a little bit ethereal, painted over with the humid summer air. he turns towards you.

”and that makes me an honour student?” 

”… okay, maybe not.” you bring a hand up to your hair, fixing it absently. deflating a little. ”you just strike me as intelligent, i guess.”

geto smiles, again, as always. the chuckle that escapes him is faint and fond, and awfully soft, dripping down his lips. ”well, thank you.” 

his eyes are warm, burning into yours. all you can do is glance away. you still don’t really understand this sensation — why he’s suddenly so easy to talk to. why he feels like something other than just a classmate, when he looks at you like that. 

then again, geto has always been a natural at putting people at ease. maybe that’s why you can’t help but warm up to him, compliantly, the way a child dutifully follows the first butterfly they ever see — it’s a little too pretty to resist. 

you want to slip deeper into his world, you realize. you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

”you guys really get along, huh?” you change the subject, speaking slowly, savouring every syllable. there isn’t any rush to get the words out all at once, when you’re with him. 

geto blinks, tilting his head. 

”hm?”

“you and gojo, i mean.”

a glimmer passes through his eyes, as your query sinks in. ”ah. yeah.” his gaze strays upwards, and a contemplative look settles into his face. he knows what you’re after, what you’re really asking; why are the two of you so close? why do you put up with his antics? 

what do you see in him? 

he thinks it’s a fair question. it’s not like he hasn’t asked himself the very same thing, before — satoru can be annoying. ignorant, too, and terribly rude. a little prick. when he stole his curry bun yesterday, geto wanted to kill him. spoiled little brat.

(then again, he’s…)

”he’s… well.” geto exhales, a little breathless. tasting the words on his tongue. ”you know how he is — but he’s not a bad guy.” 

and it’s true. he really isn’t. satoru is a lot of things; rude and spoiled, cocky and bratty, an expert at ticking everyone off. but there’s a kind of charm, there. an innocence that geto admires. 

satoru is childish — because he is a child. a child who knows a lot of things that children shouldn’t know. a child who doesn’t know the most basic of things. satoru doesn’t know how to make friends. he doesn’t know how to ask for help, doesn’t know how to give it. he doesn’t know what cotton candy tastes like, because he’s never tried it before. 

his childhood couldn't have been very warm. it definitely wasn’t normal. 

is that why he puts up with him, then? out of pity? of course not. the bare thought of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. he’d never look down on satoru, like that — and he knows he’d hate him for it. if anything, geto thinks that maybe the two of them are close because he doesn’t give him any special treatment. even if satoru wasn’t treated with warmth or love, he was certainly coddled. spoiled. it’s evident, in the way that he acts.

but satoru isn’t a god, and he shouldn’t act like one. 

one punch, right across the face; knocking the white-haired boy off his feet. that’s where their friendship began. there were stars in satoru’s eyes, geto thinks, when he looked up at him from the ground. sunglasses fallen off from the impact, blue eyes entirely on display, catching the light of the sun — gleaming with a certain bewilderment. almost amazement. like he didn’t know he could be hit, didn’t know it was possible. the sun shone down on him, illuminating the vague bruising on his cheek, and geto wondered if that was the first punch the boy had ever taken.

it certainly wasn’t a first for him, when satoru lunged at him next —

it was a little juvenile. more than a little deranged. geto isn’t one to throw fists, in the first place — he’s out of practice. the punch he fed satoru might’ve been a little too forceful. he couldn’t help but feel bad, every so slightly, for putting a bruise on that irritatingly pretty face of his. 

but it still ended with satoru’s arm around his shoulder, a buzzing voice by his ear, proclaiming them as friends. cheery and bright.

geto couldn’t help but echo the statement.

(satoru is a lot of things. 

most of all, he’s really hard to hate.)

geto’s answer brings a smile to your face. ”yeah,” you hum, soft voice breaking him out of his reverie. ”he isn’t.”

he looks at you. silently, a question of his own brewing in his irises — and with you so close, close enough to touch, smiling at him like he’s an old friend… geto can’t help but indulge in his own curiosity. 

he tries to appear nonchalant, stealing a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. ”seems like the two of you are getting along better, too.” 

”me and gojo?” you blink, surprised. a little flustered. huffing out an amused breath, trying to brush off the bare thought. ”no way.”

geto laughs — it’s a deep sound, a full one. somehow very earnest. you wonder if that’s how his laugh always sounds, whenever gojo’s involved. ”oh, come on. you don’t hate him that much.” a teasing glint blooms in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you. ”or am i wrong?”

you pause. faltering, a little, gaze falling down to the pavement — then to the sky — then to him. and then back to the pavement. 

”… i mean…” you attempt to squeeze the words out from within your chest, but you can’t help but feel hesitant. as if gojo could jump out of the bushes at any moment, ready to tease you if you say anything that paints him in an even moderately decent light. ”i don’t… hate him. but he’s still annoying.” a pout slips onto your lips. “he has it out for me, you know.”

geto laughs, again. you note that you’re fond of the sound. ”isn’t that because he likes you, though? he just doesn’t know how to show it. it’s like pulling pigtails.”

”don’t even joke about that,” you scoff, shooting him a scowl. “and that wouldn’t make it any better, even if it was true.”

a fond smile. ”yeah, you’re right.” he opts to dial down on the teasing, shifting into a more sincere tone. ”you do seem more friendly now, though. before it felt like you really hated his guts.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. brows furrowing, as you mull on what to answer with. unsure how you really feel. it’s not like you’re suddenly super close, or anything — but you have gotten friendlier. just by a smidge, but still. you’ve gotten better at putting up with him and his antics, at finding comfort in how open he can be.

after a tiny pause, you speak up. 

”… i still don’t really understand him.” you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip, trapping it between your teeth. “but i think i might be starting to.” 

you’re a little embarrassed over the words that fall from your lips, barely above a whisper. 

”… he’s not the worst.”

geto smiles, but you don’t see it — gaze still lingering on the droplets that bounce off the pavement. ”i’m glad,” he hums, earnest. ”that guy needs more friends.”

something about his tone of voice urges you to look at him. that smile of his is bright, gleaming in the rain, in the midst of the flowers all around you. a little teasing, a little boyish, but somehow very sincere. you didn’t think you’d get to see it up close.

and you can’t help but chuckle. the raven-haired boy glances over at you, confusion in his eyes.

noticing it, you breathe out a quiet chuckle. ”sorry, it’s just —” a teasing grin smooths over your lips. ”you guys bicker a lot, and you act like he annoys you… but you really care for him, don’t you?”

this time, geto almost stops in his tracks. his eyes widen, slightly, and you’re not sure why he seems surprised — when he always sounds so fond saying satoru’s name, talking about him like they understand each other fully. maybe he didn’t notice it until now. 

a moment passes, before he collects himself, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. awfully good at keeping his composure. 

(though he fails to fully conceal the flustered look on his face.)

”i wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbles, but it only makes you chuckle again. his lips curl up slightly, at the sound; despite his embarrassment. ”someone’s gotta look out for that idiot.”

”right. of course.”

geto gives you a displeased little look. you bite back a laugh. feeling at ease, by his side — you get the sense that you can trust him, that you could tell him absolutely anything, and he still wouldn't use it against you. it’s a relief.

standing there, under geto’s umbrella, in the shadow of summer, rain obscuring the world — you reach a definitive conclusion.

you want to get to know him. want to see inside his heart, hear more of his thoughts. if you could only step over that gap between you, wriggle your way into his world — 

you think you’d be happy.

so, as you walk side by side, narrowly avoiding puddles and breathing in the humid summer air, you try to coax them out of him. little thoughts, bits and pieces of the suguru geto you yearn to meet.

(unbeknownst to you, he’s doing the same.)

you continue to talk. about miniscule things, meaningless things, a comfortable sensation of trust simmering in the air between you. and before you know it, you’ve stepped onto the school grounds, stopping right in front of the dormitory.

”here we are,” geto hums, folding the umbrella and tucking it between his arm and torso. you turn to look him in the eye, taking an absent step away.

”thanks, geto,” you can’t help but smile. ”for letting me walk with you.”

”don’t mention it.” he brushes you off with ease, quick to drag the door open; waiting for you to step inside before following suit. always so accommodating. 

for a second, he hesitates. a glimmer of uncertainty, in his eyes, that you miss — stretching out your tired limbs with a shallow groan, enjoying the warm and dry air on your skin. 

finally, geto takes the leap.

when he parts his lips, his voice comes out soothing. natural and breathy, floral patterns blooming on his tongue; as silky as jasmine petals. ”you can call me suguru, you know.” he lets the silence linger, for a moment. ”if you want to.”

you turn to look at him, eyes widening, at the sudden offer, and he can’t get a good read on the emotion reflected in them. you seem caught off guard, but he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

after a moment or two, you fumble for a response. 

”oh. um — okay? i will, then.” you shake your head, as if brushing off the hesitance you feel, mustering the courage to imitate his offer. ”in that case, you can call me by my first name, too.” 

a brief pause. 

”… if you want to.”

geto smiles. it’s laced with relief, hard to notice, impossible to miss. instead of answering with an affirmation, he takes a more teasing approach — unable to resist the temptation.

so he says your name. your first name, dragging the syllables out on his tongue, as if tasting it. trying to get used to the way the letters bend as they come out of his mouth. despite the teasing lilt it carries, the sound is oddly earnest; he pronounces it clearly, like he’s trying to call you to his side. you almost feel compelled to take a step towards him. 

geto looks you in the eye, as he calls you by your given name, for the very first time — and you can’t help but grow flustered.

”… suguru,” you echo, for whatever reason. you think your brain may be slightly fried. but it feels right, to say it. suguru. 

(what a pretty name.)

suguru smiles at you. you think it’s just a little wider than usual, a little more sincere. almost giddy, if you squint. in the open air, the intimate atmosphere simmers.

finally, you clear your throat, glancing in the direction of your dorm room. a silent que for him to follow.

and he does. leaving the umbrella by the hall, before walking you to your door. his steady, soothing presence sticking to your skin. you’re just about to place your fingers on the doorknob, when a pang of realization hits you — stopping you in your tracks.

”oh — right!”

swiftly, you turn on your heel, facing suguru again. he gazes down at you, bemusement in his eyes. watching as you rummage through the plastic bag hanging off your arm. finally, you find what you were looking for; holding it out towards him. 

”here,” you give him a warm smile. ”as thanks.”

suguru accepts it, compliantly, allowing you to slip a pack of gum into his palm. he recognizes the brand, one he favours over others. it helps him, on days he can’t find his appetite. 

did you see him chewing it at some point, he wonders? when, though? 

maybe you’re always paying attention to the people around you. the way they like their coffee, their favoured flavour of gum. it may be a small kindness, an absentminded one, but suguru thinks that makes it all the more meaningful. a kindness that seeps out of you, that draws him in. 

he wants to know more, about you. he really does.

but for now, this is enough. a walk back to your dorm, your shared home, talking and growing closer than before. 

it’s a small step, but in the right direction. 

the pack of gum stirs a mellow, tender feeling in his chest. all he can do is give you a smile, and a thank you that you’re quick to brush off. then you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind you — flopping down on your bed with a muffled squeal. a giddy kind of excitement swimming in your veins. because finally, finally, you feel like the gap between you has been dented.

you know what his real laugh sounds like. that the tips of his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed. you know that he used to wear glasses, that you’re a little more similar than either of you could have assumed.

you know that you’re fond of him. fond of a boy with black hair, who smells of summer and rain and chewing gum. fond of a boy you’ve only scratched the surface of.

on the other side of the door, suguru walks back to his room. with a pep in his step, one that satoru notices — because of course he does — appearing from around the corner with a shit-eating grin.

“oh? what were you doing over there, suguru?”

suguru ignores him. popping a piece of the gum you gave him into his mouth, a flavour of apricot melting on his tongue — he sinks his teeth into it, slowly, feeling his lips curl up into a smile.

it tastes of summer and youth. a memory that both of you will savour, for many years to come.

[alltheirdamn]

Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Part III

Summary: When it rains, it pours. You want to hate Joel so badly, but it’s so hard when he keeps fighting for what he wants. Rating: 18+ MDNI Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, heavy banter and arguing, brat taming, explicit language, mild violence, kissing (!!!), outdoor sex, fingering, orgasm denial, rough unprotected piv sex, squirting, choking, slapping, creampie, aftercare, a fuck ton of angst, a dash of fluff A/N: if you came for the smut, part 1&2 are always there for your enjoyment...but if you stayed for the angst and the ending they deserved, then this is for you. i'll never shy away from angst and the opportunity to deepen a story past pnp, so if you don't like it pls don't fucking bite it. anyway, a HUGE thank you to @lotusbxtch for helping me work this final part out, you are my partner in crime. and thank you @mermaidgirl30 for always screaming about these two with me <3 xoxo everyone, enjoy Part I & Part II

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Storm clouds brewed above you, their grey formation migrating together until the darkness blanketed the sky. The incoming rainstorm made the cattle restless in the fields, and you were fighting through the whipping wind, trying to wrangle them back into the barn. Usually, you’d let them wander through the fields during calmer storms, but the churning clouds made you nervous for what was to come. 

Mac hesitated beneath you as thunder cracked through the air, the sound rippling through the rolling fields. He bucked against your grip on the reins, timidly backing away from the path you were guiding him on. The cattle were too spread out to control by yourself, but you could handle it. You weren’t raised to back down from a challenge, and that’s all this was—a challenge. The only issue was that there was little room for error before the storm reached its full potential. 

“C’mon, Mac. Y’gotta work with me,” you said, frustrated. 

You steered him toward the right side of the field, using him as a lead for the cattle to follow. It was useless; they only ran in the opposite direction and further away from you. You cursed at the sky, gripping your saddle horn as you leaned into Mac’s neck. The storm would come crashing down soon, and you’d be chasing the cows through the downpour alone. 

“Y’want some help?” Called out a voice in the distance. 

The deep timber of Joel’s voice frightened the herd, making them sprint through the tall grass in every direction. Fuck. You steered Mac around, facing Joel in the direction of him as he barreled toward you on his horse. He had one hand holding the reins, the other holding down his cowboy hat against the wind rushing over his body. 

“Fuckin’ dammit, Joel!” You screamed. “I had it under control!”

You didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. 

His horse came into a slow trot beside you and Mac, and you whipped your head to the side to glare at him. Under the shadows of the storm clouds, his brown eyes glinted brightly, absorbing every ounce of light left above you in the sky. God, you hated him. You hated his stupid eyes, his smug smirk, and his broad body sitting atop his horse. 

“Lemme help you,” he offered. “Y’can’t get them all wrangled alone. Y’need another horse helpin’ move them.”

“No, I fuckin’ don’t! I can handle it, Joel!”

“Darlin’, I know y’can handle most everythin’, but this storm is gettin’ too crazy to be out here alone. Lemme just help herd them together, then y’can take it from there.”

“Jesus Christ, why can’t y’just leave me alone?” You yelled, exasperated. 

You glanced back at the cows, now several yards away and deeper into the fields than you wanted. Shit, this wasn’t good. Kicking your heels against Mac’s sides, you sent him into a full sprint through the open fields, distancing yourself from Joel and propelling yourself deeper into your endless expanse of land. It didn’t matter if you got caught in the midst of the storm; you just wanted to prove your point. You could do this. You didn’t need help. You didn’t want help. 

Joel called out your name, the sound of his horse galloping behind you growing louder. You pushed yourself harder, forcing Mac to run faster. Lightning struck down into the field miles away, the blinding light causing Mac to rear upwards. You tried to steady yourself in the saddle, swinging the reins to the side to guide him back onto all fours. He only fought against your hold, jerking his head back and forth as he huffed out a loud whine. 

“Mac, calm down!” You begged. 

A hand came beside you, gripping the reins and tugging them firmly to the left. Joel steered Mac beside his horse, taking control and limiting your ability to calm Mac down. You tried yanking the reins from Joel’s large hands, but he only tightened his grip. 

“This isn’t the time to be stubborn,” he barked. “You’re gonna get caught in the storm.”

“I have responsibilities!” You seethed. “I need these damn cows in the barn ‘fore it starts gettin’ bad. I can’t just leave them out here!”

“They’ll be just fine! It’s one storm,” he argued. 

You grasped at the reins, tearing them from his hands. Another ripple of thunder shook the air around you, and you took it as a sign that time was running out. You needed to work against the storm before it was too late. Leaning into Mac, you pushed him into a long gallop toward the herd. You managed to gain the lead around them, zig-zagging Mac until they grouped together. Joel watched from a distance, his horse standing restless in the blowing wind. You were doing this without him, proving you didn’t need help. 

The cows grunted as you urged them into a faster pace, the view of the worn-down barn drifting closer. You were acutely aware of Joel trailing behind you but couldn’t find the energy to care. Let him follow. You’d rip him to shreds when the cattle were safe. Mac continued his waltz back and forth, obeying your commands as you guided him in a rhythm behind the cows. You tuned out the sound of thunder rumbling above you and kept your breathing even as you pushed through the wind tearing at your face. 

“Alright, let’s get y’all inside,” you said, coaxing the cattle through the open barn doors.

They rustled through the hay-covered ground, veering off in different directions. Some went straight for the water basins, while others huddled in dark corners behind the wooden beams creaking above you. You kicked your legs over Mac, sliding to your feet and giving him an appreciative pat against his neck. Softly kissing his jaw, you smoothed down his mane and waded through the cows to check them over. The sounds of hoofs pounding into the barn startled you—and the cows—and you clenched your fists together before turning toward Joel. 

“I told you to leave me alone.”

Dismounting his horse, Joel waltzed his way into the barn, thunder clouds casting dark shadows over his large frame as he walked closer. Under the brim of his cowboy hat, you could see his smug grin and glittering eyes, just watching as you shook with anger.

“All I was tryna do is help,” he explained. “No need to get feisty with me.”

You stepped closer, rage boiling inside your veins. You hated him. You hated the help he offered because he thought you couldn’t do this alone. He thought you were weak—incapable. Well, you weren’t. You were more than capable of handling anything out on your land. That’s what you were raised to do.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help, Joel. And I don’t want you ‘round here.”

“Why?” He pressed. 

You were toe-to-toe with him, staring up at eyes that looked at you with anything but anger. Where was that menacing look he usually wore? Where was his dominance? Why wasn’t he fighting with you? 

“You piss me off!” you yelled. “You come ‘round here ruinin’ my fuckin’ day. You don’t take no for an answer. You don’t let me live.”

“Darlin’, bein’ alone ain’t livin’ at all. Why don’t y’want someone ‘round? Why don’t you want me ‘round?”

His body crowded you, his hands roaming up your arms, squeezing your tense shoulders as you disappeared under his shadow. You shook him off, breezing past him and into the open space outside the barn. You didn’t want to give him the answer; you couldn’t explain it without being vulnerable. And Joel was the very last person you wanted to be vulnerable with. 

“Hey!” Joel hollered. “Would y’come back inside? It ain’t safe out there right now.”

As if to prove his point, lightning struck the fields just a mile away, the instant clap of thunder rattling through the air. Drops of rain began to pelt the dirt around you, misting your hair and face as you glanced up into the sky. You worked at shutting the fences together, ensuring everything was tied down and secure before the storm hit full force. 

Two strong arms braced themselves around your middle, pulling you away from the barn until your boots dragged through the mud. Your house was only feet away, and you knew that’s exactly where Joel intended to take you. Maybe he’d fuck you through the anger like he always did, but not even that sounded appealing right now. You wanted to be alone. 

“Let me fuckin’ go!” You screamed, thrashing against his firm grip. 

“No. I’m sick of this fuckin’ attitude y’always got. Ain’t gonna listen to it anymore.”

You drove an elbow into his stomach, forcing his arms to slip from your torso as he doubled over with a soft oof. You staggered away from him, staring him down through the pelting rain. 

“I want to be alone!” You raged. 

“Why do y’want to be alone so bad? Y’don't have to be alone, you know,” Joel argued. 

He had a hand pressed into his side, no doubt to quell the pain from your jab, and a grimace twisting up his lips. You were soaked from the rain now, your hair matting down onto your forehead and cheeks as you stared at him. Humidity thickened the air around you, leaving you suffocating in your skin. 

“I can take care of myself,” you defended. “I—.”

“I know y’can take care of yourself,” Joel interjected. “You’ve made that perfectly fuckin’ clear! All I’m sayin’ is, what if you didn’t have to?”

“And do what?” You laughed bitterly. “Have you take care of me? In your fuckin’ dreams, Miller.”

Joel dragged a wet hand over his face, his eyelashes weighed down by the heavy droplets. You folded your arms over your chest, your shirt soaked and no doubt see-through. It didn’t matter; too many emotions flooded your mind to even care about your appearance. 

“Y’drive me fuckin’ crazy, y’know that?” Joel cursed. “Always gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn and pissy. I can’t stand it.”

“Then why do y’keep comin’ ‘round?!” You tossed your arms up in defeat, huffing out a cloud of air through the torrents of rain.

“Because!” He shouted.

“Because why?”

“Christ, y’just don’t fuckin’ get it.”

Joel tore his hat off his head, rushing toward you. His strong hands gripped the sides of your face, his nose brushing over yours. With a deep inhale, he crashed his lips against yours, the taste of rainwater and smoke falling onto your tongue. Everything inside your body tensed up, too afraid to cave into his embrace. But Joel held you closer, tangling one hand into your damp hair, coaxing your mouth open wider. His tongue rolled over yours, and a moan slipped from your mouth and into his. He swallowed every tiny noise you made, drinking in your vulnerability as it coated his lips. Every slant of his mouth over yours was a step closer to your undoing; he would ruin you completely if he kept kissing you. 

“Stop,” you mumbled against his lips.

Joel pressed harder against you, his nose smashing into your cheek as he deepened the kiss. He was consuming you from the inside out, sucking out every emotion and bleeding you dry. You sank your teeth into his bottom lip, pulling it hard until he broke away with labored breathing. He brushed a finger over his mouth, finding blood seeping along the surface of his bottom lip. 

“This how y’wanna act?” He questioned, his eyes a swimming pool of onyx. 

There it was. 

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to slow your breathing, watching Joel flex his fingers at his sides. You had torn yourself from his grip and left him empty-handed; if you did it first, then you wouldn’t have to face the pain of losing him. Christ, the realization hit you like a freight train. 

You hated him… you had to hate him. 

You wouldn’t let yourself feel anything else.

“Go home, Joel! I don’t want you!”

“Sure fuckin’ felt like y’did,” he huffed.

Then he was on you, wrangling you down into the mud until you were pinned beneath him. Sloshing against the wet earth, you clawed at his flannel, tearing your nails through the soaked fabric. Joel clamped a hand around your wrist, pinning it above your head as he lowered his face close to yours. Your other hand came up to his face, smearing thick mud over his scruff-covered jaw. Every time he leaned closer, you pushed his face away, distancing yourself from the addiction that beckoned; lips saturated in the rain, soft and inviting…a sweet promise of something you could never have. You wanted him to ruin you like he always did; you needed the pain. You needed the reminder that this was nothing but physical that kept you colliding together. 

“Stop. Fightin’. Me.” He panted.

“No!”

You continued swatting at his face, mud caking into his mustache and over the bridge of his nose. Joel pried your hand from his face, pulling it above your head and clasping your wrists together under one large palm.

“Enough!” He barked. 

 He shredded your wet shirt apart with his free hand, the saturated pieces fraying into the muddy ground. With a snarl off his lips, Joel bent down and ravished your body with open-mouthed kisses, his teeth marring your neck and chest. You arched into his touch, hissing at the pain of each bite into your flesh. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

This. This is what you wanted. You wouldn’t fight this because this was what you wanted. Right? You mewled as he marked your body, leaving bruised patches of skin in his wake. Pleasure began to pulsate between your legs, a constant ache that only grew stronger the longer you lay beneath him. You needed him inside you—assaulting you with quick thrusts until your brain turned off. 

Joel worked at peeling your pants from your legs, huffing out a frustrated breath as he fought with the denim plastered to your skin by the rain. Maybe you'd laugh at his struggles if you weren’t blinded by so much rage. But you were beyond desperate for release—release from the pleasure boiling under your skin and release from this constant painful ache inside your chest. With your pants and underwear lazily tossed into the puddle of water beside you, Joel smoothed his hands over your curves, his fingers pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. Every inch of your body was drenched with rain, the droplets pelting your face as you tried to bite back another moan. His fingers roamed down your stomach, slipping easily between your legs and through your silken folds. 

“Please,” you whined. 

It was the first time you willingly begged for anything from Joel. You bit your lips to hold back any more desperate pleas. 

“Look at you, darlin’,” Joel teased. “Finally learned some damn manners.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. 

You chased his fingers, lifting your hips as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit. Everything was so sensitive and heightened that you could hardly blame the rain for your eyes blurring as he drew slow circles over the aching bud. Joel coaxed small noises from your mouth as you writhed against the wet earth. 

“You gonna be good for me, darlin?” Joel asked, his voice lost behind another rumble of thunder.

“Just make me cum,” you bit out. 

“Y’think I’m just gonna give you whatever y’want right now? After the way y’treated me? Nah, I don’t think so.”

His lips twitched into a smug grin, his fingers teasing their way into your slick entrance. Joel paralyzed you with a heavy stare, and you turned your head away, staring off across the field to avoid his eyes. The longer you looked at him, the harder this would be.

He curled two fingers inside you, dragging them over the spongy spot that had your insides rupturing with ecstasy. Every stroke of his fingers was another tug on that pleasure unfurling within your core. Squeezing your eyes shut, you focused on the rhythm of his movements, the quickness of his fingers, the thickness as they stretched you wide.

“Gotta look at me if y’wanna cum,” Joel said, plunging his fingers deeper.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes tighter. You couldn’t look at him, not right now. 

“Look at me!” Joel demanded.

A sharp sting bolted across your face, sending your eyes flying open. Joel’s eyes were darker than the thunderstorm hanging above your bodies, emotions swirling deep within his irises. You saw it all—the anger, the pain, the need. This is why you didn’t want to look at him; it reflected everything you felt, too. His fingers pinched your chin, holding your face firm within his grip. You had nowhere to go. You were trapped—trapped beneath him, trapped inside yourself. 

Joel worked his fingers harder and faster, pulling cries from your lips until your orgasm skyrocketed through your body. 

“Fuck, Joel!” You cried. 

His jaw twitched as he watched you unravel beneath him. Your core fluttered with phantom ripples of your orgasm, your body unwinding from its tension. You had enough of this—you didn’t want to be under his control. Not when his eyes softened and his body pressed closer to yours. 

“Get off me,” you begged. “Fuck—get off!”

Joel tore his fingers from you, drawing them into his mouth as he cleaned your arousal from his skin. There wasn’t a single ounce of rage radiating off his body, which only angered you more. For how much fight you were putting up against him, he wasn’t giving in like he usually did. 

Frustrated with everything, you shimmied your body far enough upward to twist your hips and swing a leg over his waist. Joel relinquished and allowed you to wrangle him to the ground; your hands splayed over his chest, his shirt soaked beneath your fingers. Joel gazed up at you with hungry eyes while he worked at undoing his belt buckle. Rain pelted his face, washing away the mud as it streaked through his graying curls. Christ, he looked so beautiful beneath you; you would kiss him if you weren’t so fucking scared. But you didn’t want that—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Above him, you could hurt him however you wanted; you could torment him until he snapped. 

“This what y’want, darlin’?” Joel asked, breathless. “Y’wanna use me? Go ahead.”

You didn’t want to use him; you wanted him angry enough to snap back into his commanding nature. You wanted him to break you apart. You wanted his handprints seared into your skin and his filthy words in your ear. But he kept staring at you with eyes that could fracture your heart into a million pieces. There wasn’t a hint of darkness in his eyes anymore, all of it replaced by that deep-rooted need you couldn’t stand to look at. 

Joel’s cock throbbed in your hand as you lined it up with your entrance, the velvety skin damp from the rain, sliding into your sex without resistance. You lowered yourself until his length filled you completely, the stretch rendering you speechless. Slowly, you began to grind against him, letting your body move fluidly until you buzzed with newfound pleasure. It coursed through your veins, igniting that fire low in your stomach you so hungered for. 

You rolled your hips faster, leaning into him to thread your hands through his matted curls, your nails digging into his scalp. Joel wouldn’t move with you—he lay there with his hands gripping your waist, letting you take the lead.

“Keep usin’ me, darlin’,” Joel whispered. “I can take it.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You hoped your nails clawing in his skin would elicit a response…anything. You sped up the tempo, raising yourself along the length of his cock and pushing yourself down. 

“I hate you,” you panted, throwing all your weight into each drop of your hips. “I hate you so fuckin’ much.”

“I know y’do,” Joel said softly.

You dragged your nails down his hair and over the graying patches of hair along his jaw. Dirt collected under your nails as tiny red welts rose to the surface of his skin. Joel wasn’t phased by any of it, not even a grimace of pain when you squeezed your hands around his throat. 

“Hate me back!” You begged.

“No.” 

You choked him harder, throttling him as your sex clenched around his cock. You couldn’t even focus on the pleasure curling inside your stomach, your anger suffocating every sensation in your body. 

“Goddamnit, Joel! Hate me!” 

His tan skin flushed underneath your hands, and your rage took hold of your body as you sent your hand flying across his cheek. Nothing. Not a single reaction from your anger. Joel should have had you on the brink of death at this point after all your yelling and fighting. That’s what he did best—he hurt you until the pain became pleasure, and your control slipped out of reach. But he wasn’t feeding into your pleas. He wasn’t even considering it. That stupid brow furrow softened, his eyes looking at you with a mixture of emotions, none of which you wanted. 

“Fuckin’ hate me!” You screamed. “How much more can I keep hurtin’ you ‘til you hate me back?”

Joel lifted himself up despite your efforts to hold him down. Everything felt electrified with your bodies pressed together, sticky wet skin against wet clothes. Your body pulsed with pleasure…with anger…with everything you wanted to escape. His hands wrapped around your back, guiding you along his cock as you kept your hands squeezing around his throat. 

“But I don’t hate you.” He was soft-spoken as if to coax you out of your aggressive haze.

You dropped your head onto his shoulder, sinking your teeth into his skin as you rocked against his body. Faster and faster, your hips moved, driving his cock deeper inside you; all the while he remained paralyzed against you. Small flexes of his fingers against your skin were all you could feel, and his breathy moans in your ear were enough to drive you mad. Your teeth were bearing down into his shoulder with enough force to draw blood, yet he didn’t move a muscle. 

Releasing your grip, you jerked away from the warmth of his body with a snarl twisting up your lips. Why wasn’t he taking control? You deserved the torture—the complete domination of his body against yours. Why was this time different? Why wouldn’t he give you what you wanted?

“Why won’t you hate me?!” You wailed. “Why won’t you fuck me like y’always do?”

Joel silently watched as you pounded your fists into his muscles over and over again. You could keep hitting him, keep yelling, keep pleading…but what was the use? He wasn’t giving in, and you were growing tired. You were so fucking tired of fighting.

“Is this not enough?” You cried, your voice cracking. “Am I not enough?”

“Oh, darlin’,” Joel sighed.

His breath was hot against your ear, his lips dangerously close to your skin as you continued crying. His cock throbbed inside you, yet your pleasure dissipated. You didn’t want this anymore. You were broken. 

“Why am I not enough?” You whimpered.

Your hands stopped their beating, and you let the emotions you had kept at a distance crash against the surface. Sobs wracked through your body as your head fell into the crook of his neck. Joel’s hands brushed up your back, caressing and holding you close. He buried his face into your hair, one hand tangling in the soaked tendrils, holding you flush to his chest.

“I got you, darlin’. S’alright,” he crooned. 

Your tears bled into his shirt, untraceable within the wet fabric that clung to his strong shoulders. Your body shook with each wave of cries, and Joel just kept holding you, kept shushing you until your sobs turned into whimpers, and you had nothing left. 

You were so scared to lose everything—your land, your generational responsibilities… Joel. Everyone in your life had vanished. All you had left was hundreds of acres of empty land and a hollow chest with a half-broken heart. You could take the pain he gave you because that’s what you deserved. You didn’t deserve this tenderness, not after the way you treated him. Anger and hate were enough for you; it was enough to pacify the ache of wanting more. You weren’t worth more than this. 

“Please, Joel,” you muttered. “Please hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Joel whispered. “I can’t. Y’got yourself under my skin, and I don’t want it any other way.”

“No…don’t do that,” you mumbled. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

“C’mere, lemme look at you.”

Joel pushed your shoulders forward, peeling you away from his chest. You hid your eyes from him, lowering your head and away from his longing stare. 

“Darlin’, look at me,” he coaxed, his fingers brushing under your chin and lifting your face. 

The rain was falling slower now, large droplets smattering against your cheeks and forehead. You tried to avoid his eyes, watching the rain roll down his nose and over his pouty lips. For once, the thought of kissing him didn’t scare you. 

Joel squeezed his fingers around your jaw, softer than you were used to but still effective in getting your attention. Through the tears still blurring your eyes, you gazed into his brown eyes, the softness crashing into yours. With his brows slightly pulled up in concern, Joel exhaled, finally seeing all the broken pieces he held in his arms. 

“You are enough,” he vowed. “Attitude and all, you are enough. If y’wanna hate me, then hate me. Hate me all y’want ’cause I can handle it. Just please don’t hate yourself. I see how scared you are, darlin’. Ain’t got nothin’ to be scared ‘bout with me, ‘kay?”

You nodded solemnly, letting your forehead fall against his. Joel smoothed his hands down your back, slowly guiding your hips up until his cock slipped from you. Your core clenched around nothing, the ripples of your denied orgasm rolling through your body. Fucking out your anger was one thing, but you couldn’t fuck away your feelings. Not anymore. 

“C’mon, darlin’,” Joel urged. 

He lifted you to your feet, following suit and rising from the slippery ground. Bending slightly, Joel curled an arm around your back and the other under your knees, tossing you up and cradling you against his chest. You let your head rest on his shoulder, watching the mud dry on his tan skin. With bleary eyes and a heavy heart, you felt guilty for making him care for you. You were supposed to be good on your own; you were supposed to be independent. You didn’t need taking care of, yet here you were, limp in Joel’s arms and exhausted.

He waded through the muddy puddles around the barn and carried you toward your house. Water dripped down the patchy roof, rattling against the storm drain as it rolled down the side of the walls. The smell of the thunderstorm wafted over Joel’s body, invading your senses with each heavy inhale. He walked up the porch steps cautiously, kicking the door open with the toe of his boot. It didn’t bother you when it smashed against the wall, the wood rattling at the force. 

Still keeping you close to his chest, Joel walked through your tiny farm home, familiarizing himself with the layout until he found the door to your bathroom. Propping it open with his knee, Joel guided you inside, gingerly lowering you to your feet. 

“Let’s get you in the shower, darlin’,” Joel urged. “Needa get y’warmed up.”

“I’m okay,” you croaked, wrapping your arms around your bare chest. 

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, bending his head down to kiss your dirty forehead. 

“Stubborn lil’ thing. C’mon, I’ll join you.”

You glanced around the bathroom, staring at the yellow wallpaper peeling around the crown molding. Time—and weather—had done its damage to your home, but no one ever visited, so you never thought about fixing it. But now Joel was standing there, truly seeing your house and not just focusing on you pinned to the couch, and you were awfully insecure. Every paint-chipped crevice along the wooden walls, every creak in the floorboard, every water stain along the corners of doorways… was just another reminder of how bad you were at existing. Focusing on the land and keeping the animals cared for was easy, but it was hard to care for yourself. You didn’t matter; you never had. 

“Hey.” Joel’s voice was soft in your ear.

You looked back at Joel hesitantly, watching his clothes drop to the floor. Piece by piece, Joel slowly materialized into a reality you hadn’t imagined. Without his cowboy boots or worn flannel, Joel was soft everywhere. His dark chest hair curled around his torso and down his navel, his stomach soft and moldable. His tapered waist looked much better out of his jeans, and his thick thighs were worth spending hours kissing. All his rough edges and calloused skin morphed into something so much more tender and inviting—something you yearned for in unspeakable ways. 

“Do I need to carry you into the shower?” He asked, half teasing.

You didn’t have the energy to laugh, so you only stood silent, waiting for him to run the water until the steam fogged the mirror. Once it ran hot enough, Joel pulled back the curtain and dragged you under the spray of the water. Mud slipped off your skin, swirling down your body in dark rivulets and into the drain. 

Joel’s body pressed against yours, his arms snaking around your waist. You felt his warm lips press into the skin of your neck, trailing further down as you leaned into his touch. The longer you spent in his embrace, the more pliant you became—malleable. 

“Can I help wash you, darlin’?” Joel muttered into your neck.

You wanted to decline to prove you didn’t need help, but Joel was just as stubborn as you. He’d persist, and you were terribly close to hitting your limit on how many times you could tell him no. So, you gave him the tiniest nod and let him steer you under the water. He reached around you to grab the shampoo, pumping enough into his hands to massage over your scalp. The drag of his fingers through your tangled hair was enough to loosen the tension in your muscles. Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of his hands on your body the only sensation you could focus on. 

Joel remained silent, moving soapy hands over your body until there wasn’t a speck of dirt left. Eventually, your body hit its limit, and you sagged into his chest, your eyes tired and heavy. He reached over and turned the water off, the immediate chill in the empty air sending shivers down your spine. 

“Stay here,” Joel muttered. “Lemme grab a towel.”

“Y’don’t even know where they are,” you grumbled. 

Joel chuckled, slipping a hand down your chest to hug you closer. His scruff tickled your neck as he nestled into your body, swaying you softly against him. 

“Then show me,” he whispered. “Get me used to this house.”

Tears stung your waterline at hearing his words; he wanted to be here with you. Not just in this moment. He was thinking about the future, and you couldn’t understand why you were worth more than this. 

“They’re up in the cabinet outside the bathroom,” you offered. “Just don’t slip on the tiles, old man.”

“There’s my girl,” he laughed. 

You hid behind the shower curtain, watching Joel’s ass leave the bathroom as he roamed into the hallway. He was only gone a moment, returning with two towels in hand. You couldn’t help but stare at how water clung to his chest hair, curling the brown hair in swirls as they trailed down his stomach. His cock hung low between his thighs, half hard and thick. You still didn’t get your last orgasm, and maybe that was something you could rectify later. Later. 

“Sure starin’ a lot for someone who hates me,” Joel quipped, holding a towel. 

“Shut up, Miller. I can do whatever I want.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” he smirked. 

You stepped out of the tub, turning around so he could wrap the towel over your shoulders. His arms wound around your body, rubbing the fabric into your skin and drying you off. You twisted the towel over your chest and returned to watching Joel in all his glory. He used his towel to dry his hair, the salt and pepper curls sticking to his forehead. You liked Joel like this—soft and natural. As much as you enjoyed the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his actions, this was something so enticing. Slinging the towel around his waist, Joel beckoned you closer and hauled you into his arms. 

“Wanna get in bed with me?” He asked. 

“Now you’re askin’ permission for things? That’s new,” you scoffed, peering up at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Alright, have it your way,” he huffed.

Bending down, Joel tossed you over his shoulder, making you squeal as his hands planted themselves on your ass. He waltzed out of the bathroom, hauling you down the hall until he found your bedroom. The overcast sky shadowed your room through the windows, and you were so ready to curl up under the covers and hide away. 

Tossing you onto the comforter, Joel climbed over you, caging you between his arms. You shied away from him as he leaned closer, his face dangerously close to yours. You were unsure if you were ready to kiss him again, though your body thrummed with the aching need to feel his lips against yours. He roamed a hand over your chest, his fingers dancing up the column of your neck as they squeezed softly around your throat. Instinctively, you arched into his touch, relishing the slight dominance back in his movements.

“Y’gonna fight me if I kiss you?” He teased, bending down closer.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

Joel’s lips twitched into a grin as he pressed his body into yours, his mouth a breath away from yours. With a flex of his fingers around your neck, he closed the gap, his lips colliding with yours. It wasn’t frenzied like the first time; his mouth was warm and soft against yours. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to every slant of his mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth as an invitation, allowing him to steer this kiss in whatever direction. 

Roaming your hands up the expanse of his muscular arms, you dug your nails into his shoulders, dragging him closer until you were flush with his body. He broke away from your lips, trailing his mouth down the hollow of your neck, sucking marks into your skin. 

“Joel,” you whined.

“Hmm?” He muttered.

“I need—.”

Your begging was cut off short as he pulled down your towel, his mouth suctioning around your pebbled nipple. Your fingers tangled in his wet hair, pulling slightly to guide him off your body. He bit the sensitive bud, rolling your nipple between his teeth. He was relentless, and you found yourself caving into his desires the longer he spent ravishing your body.

“I know y’can be demandin’, darlin’,” Joel said, releasing your nipple from between his teeth. “So, let’s fuckin’ hear it.”

“Fuck me, Joel,” you begged. “Fuck me, and don’t be gentle.”

“Y’like it when I’m rough with you? Y’want me to fuck you into the mattress?” He questioned.

“Christ,” you exhaled. “Please.”

Joel wasted no time tossing his towel across the room and lifting your legs high into the air. You didn’t care that he had you pinned beneath him; you wanted to see his eyes wild with lust while he fucked himself into you. Shuffling his knees up, he maneuvered both of your legs over one shoulder, his hands sliding under your ass and lifting your hips. He slowly eased himself into you, and you let a moan slip from your lips as his cock brushed against your cervix. Yes. This is what you needed.

“S’fuckin’ pretty when you’re stuffed with my cock,” Joel grunted, rocking his hips against yours.

“Mhmm,” you whined. 

You couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence when you were struggling to breathe. You were so fucking full of him, and the angle he had you molded into only shoved his cock further inside you. Joel rutted against you slowly, but each drive of his hips hit hard against yours. You reached for his hand that gripped your calf and pulled it down until it wrapped around your neck.

“Greedy lil’ thing,” he smirked.

Joel flexed his fingers around your throat before fully gripping it, stifling your breathing until your vision darkened. He snapped his hips harder, speeding up his thrusts until your bed frame smacked into the wall. Arousal dripped down the seam of your ass, coating Joel’s cock as it slipped in and out of you. Coils of pleasure twisted inside your stomach, and you let out strangled whimpers as you tried to swallow around his fingers.

“Y’enjoy bein’ fucked like a lil’ slut?”

“Y—yes,” you choked.

“Louder for me. Wanna hear ya’.”

But his grip tightened, cutting off your words as they lodged in your throat. Tears slid down your cheeks as you chased the burning pleasure coursing through your body. The orgasm you lost earlier was surging back to the surface, and you clawed at the feeling as it wracked against your core. Joel could sense it, too, his pace ruthless as he assaulted you with powerful thrusts.

“S’my girl need to cum?”

My girl.

The sentiment alone could have skyrocketed your orgasm to the surface. Joel’s eyes gleamed with pride as he looked down at you, satisfied at your reaction as your lips tipped up into a timid smile. The sound of being his girl didn’t sound so bad…but you’d think about that later. You needed this. 

“Please,” you begged. 

“You gonna be my good girl, darlin’? Gonna make me proud right now?”

Joel unwound his hand from your throat, threading his fingers into your hair. He bent down, forcing you further into the mattress as he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. He leaned in closer, your body nearly folded in half against his, your thighs pressed into his sweat-slick chest as your calves still rested over his shoulder. Every inch of you was covered in him: his musky scent, his smoke-tinged breath, his deep grunts lost inside your mouth. It blanketed over your fears, and you lost yourself in him. He was consuming you from the inside out, and you couldn’t help yourself when you deepened the kiss. 

“C’mon,” Joel urged, his words lost against your mouth. “Make me proud.”

Your orgasm erupted through your body, stare sparkling behind your eyelids as you seized up. Your core fluttered around Joel’s cock, milking him through each ripple of your orgasm as it passed through. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel praised. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ my cock.”

In a blur, Joel had you flipped onto your stomach, his cock vanishing from you for only a moment before he was yanking your hips up high and driving back into you. 

“Fuck!” You cried out, your fingers clawing at the comforter.

“Ain’t stoppin’ yet, darlin’. You’re gonna give me one more.”

You weren’t sure if you had anything left to give, but with Joel ramming into you from behind, you had no choice but to relinquish all control. Slick arousal ran down your thigh as Joel plunged deeper, his cock spearing into you and tearing you apart. 

“Please don’t stop,” you panted. “So close, Joel…I’m so close.”

“I know. I know,” he crooned. “Doin’ so good for me.”

Joel’s fingers dug into your hip bones, anchoring you into the bed. His touch was bruising—brutal. Your head dropped between your shoulders, your tears falling onto the sheets. Euphoria thrummed in your veins, ready to explode at any given moment. The loud echo of Joel’s hips slamming against yours battled against the storm still brewing outside; each thrust its own sound of thunder erupting inside your tiny bedroom. 

Pleasure fractured through you, your skin lit on fire as your orgasm lapped up your spine. You seized around Joel’s cock, arousal gushing from you and coating his length as he slipped in and out of your sex. Joel grunted in satisfaction, pinning your hips to his as he let your orgasm flutter through your body. 

“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Makin’ such a mess of me, darlin’. Filthy lil’ thing just squirtin’ all over my cock. Y’want my cum deep inside you now? Want me to fill you up, darlin’?”

You nodded vigorously; your mouth opened in a silent plea despite Joel towering over you from behind. He couldn’t see the way you mouthed please, but he felt the desperation in your body as you pressed your hips back against his. Joel took you hard, barreling deeper inside you with each thrust until you felt him shudder with a breathy moan. Your name slipped off his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his release filling you to the brim. It dripped out the sides, mixing with your arousal as it rolled down your thighs. Christ, you were so fucking full of him in every single way. 

Joel slumped over your body, his mouth warm against your spine as he left small kisses on your skin. You sunk into the bed, your legs giving out beneath you and leaving you exhausted and listless. Time passed slowly, and Joel finally slipped from you and tumbled onto the bed beside you. He quickly pulled you into an embrace, tucking your head under his arm and against his chest. Though your body was still unwinding from the way he fucked you, you felt yourself tensing back up. To feel this close to someone felt foreign and unsure; every fiber of your being fought against this, yet you were too tired to overcome it mentally. Joel’s fingers curled into your waist, digging softly into your skin as if to beckon you closer.

“You doin’ okay, darlin’?” He asked, his voice hoarse and tired.

You buried your head into his chest, refusing to look at him. How could you voice your fears when everything inside his eyes scared you the most? You could run from your feelings, but you could never outrun the softness of his brown eyes.

“I don’t know how to do this, Joel,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Do what?”

“Be with someone,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to be anythin’ other than alone.”

He nudged you softly, trying to coax your eyes to meet his. There was no point in hiding; at this point, you’d lose any battle against him. Lifting your head, you caught a glimpse at his eyes, their soft brown color shaded by clouded a deep sense of concern. 

“Let me show y’what it’s like,” he offered. “Let me care for you the way you deserve.”

“I’m just scared,” you whispered.

“What’re y’scared of?”

Joel raised a brow, the furrow above his nose deepening. He was silently trying to understand your hesitancy, which you appreciated, but it didn’t feel right to be this vulnerable with him. The moment you spilled your heart to him, you’d never have it back. Your walls would be broken down, and you’d have nowhere to run and hide. Sucking in a breath, you allowed the words to tumble out of you. 

“I’m scared that if I let myself fall for you, I’ll lose you like I lost everyone else.”

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed. 

He tilted your chin up, placing a gentle kiss against your trembling lips. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You showed me how strong y’can be. Now it’s my turn to be strong for you, ‘kay? Can I do that?”

“You aren’t supposed to be like this,” you said, shaking your head.

“How am I supposed to be?” He questioned.

“You shouldn’t be this nice to me. I don’t deserve this after everythin’ I’ve done. I deserve all the mean shit y’been doin’ to me.”

“Why can’t I do both?” He chuckled lightly, squeezing your side. “I can still be mean as long as I get to love you, too.”

You propped your head onto his chest, watching him for any fault in his words. You truly didn’t understand how he could feel all these things for you when you’d been nothing but awful. You pushed him away constantly; you got on his nerves. Why did he want you?

“You love me?” You asked, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, maybe I do. Got me wrapped ‘round your bratty lil’ finger, darlin’.”

Joel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips traveled down your damp cheeks until he captured your mouth once again. You slid your hands up his chest, your fingers tugging at the curls at the base of his neck. He pulled you in closer and maneuvered your body over his, your chests pressed together and hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop givin’ you hell, Joel,” you smiled, breaking away from his lips. 

“Oh, I’m countin’ on it, darlin’,” he chuckled.

Outside, the storm continued barreling through the fields, the quiet sound of rain tapping against the windows. Joel kept you tangled around his body, his warmth never leaving you as time drifted away. The fear still lingered in the back of your mind, but it wasn’t as powerful anymore. You had your land, you had your responsibilities, and you had your man. 

You could have it all. 

You did have it all.

[haologram]

how to be a latin lover ♡ h.js (m)

♡ synopsis: the dreadful semester has started — meaning your summer vacation has come to end, and so has your summer fling…or has it? ♡ genre: summer fling au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers ; ta x student dynamics. ♡ pairing: spanish ta!joshua hong x chaebol!fem!reader | side pairings: lee chan x jung haerim (weki meki) ; wen junhui x lee saerom (fromis_9) ♡ word count: 26.8k ♡ rating: 18+. minors do not interact, i beg. ♡ warnings: honestly, a little toxic if you squint. lots of pining. hella slow burn. lots of suggestive commentary but no smut because i'm ass at it (sorry if you wanted some, maybe during the lore drops for this fic later this year i'll add some) and very, very toxic mother-daughter dynamics [official warnings: joshua and y/n are absolute idiots. i’m talking the dumbest mfs you’ve ever encountered, you’ll want to scream at them through the screen.] ♡ what to listen to: otro atardecer - bad bunny, the marías ; get to you - mac ayres ; sky full of stars - coldplay ; brave enough - leehi ; qué locura enamorarme de ti - eddie santiago ♡ a/n: it's finally here! thank you to @camandemstudios for allowing me to be a part of such a wonderful collab (and i promise hoshi will be out by next week!) thank you to @tomodachiii , @wqnwoos and @highvern for betaing this stupid behemoth and telling me to stop being a little bitch (no one said that). hopefully i will see everyone soon with the hoshi version! thanks for reading!

Monday, August 29th.

Summer is over.

A sad fate deemed inescapable, despite your sunkissed glow and endless array of swimsuits begging you to stay on the beach – you were forced to return to reality after spending six weeks in Mexico, away from the shackles of your mother's constant nagging and the fall semester of impending doom. Your trip was all-expenses paid, of course – thanks to daddy's big, fat wallet.

You had no worries – your skin was clear, your hair was bouncy, your belly was full of delicious food as you pranced the streets of Puerto Vallarta with your best friend, Lee Saerom. Your father didn't even know he'd footed the bill for her, too. He didn't check the credit card report after you booked your trip – just nodded absentmindedly and waved you off, his voice echoing the walls of the office. "Have fun, honey."

Well? The fun you had…is now here to bite you in your sweet, sunkissed ass.

Summer flings have been your thing since you were eighteen – so since your parents finally let you out of their grasp to 'explore.' Whatever the hell that meant, you didn't know, but you gladly took the plane tickets and went off to wherever they sent you. One year, it was Greece, and your summer sweetheart grew a bit too obsessed with you – leading you to change your number and start using burner phones for vacations.

You covered all your tracks. You didn't even give this guy your social media accounts, you gave him your burner number…you didn't even tell him your last name. Yet, you are so undeniably screwed.

"Hello, everyone!" He scans the room as he takes a sip of his coffee, glancing at the door. "I'm unsure if you all received the email, but Professor Lee won't be in today." He's still scouring faces, taking in new ones and recognizing old ones. He hasn't seen you, and you're sure if you just sink a bit further down, he won't. "I'm Joshua Hong, and I'm Professor Lee's teaching assistant this year. She asked me to review the syllabus with you, in lieu of her absence." He taps the stack of papers on the large oak desk, clicking his tongue. "I'm gonna put the digital copy up on the projector, and you guys can just pick one of these up on your way out. Sounds good?" The class seemingly nods simultaneously, and you find yourself sliding down your chair as he walks to dim the lights. "That being said, welcome to Beginning Spanish Conversation! I took this course last year, and Professor Lee is super nice so you won't have to worry about getting into any scuffles with her."

He's speaking to himself as he connects everything, the home screen of his laptop popping onto the projector screen. It's him and two other guys dressed as the Powerpuff Girls. He giggles to himself before using the laser pointer. "Not that you guys care, but these are my friends." He points to the one dressed as Buttercup, tied to a moving dolly with a sour expression on his face.

"This is Jeonghan. He's another TA on the East Campus, and the secretary of my fraternity! If you ever see me off campus, I'm likely with him and this guy." He points at the one dressed as Bubbles with a tiara on, a guy you recognize but can't seem to place. "This is Seungcheol. He's President of Beta Tau Omega, in case you're wondering where you've probably seen him before." You freeze as he opens his Safari, hoping that comment wasn't directed at you. It opens to the syllabus, and you feel your lips twitch at how cute Professor Lee made it. There is a floral border surrounding the page, and he points the laser on the screen again.

"Okay, so. Again, I'm Joshua Hong and your professor is Lee Hyori. This is Beginning Spanish Conversation, so we'll be learning a lot of vocabulary and common phrases. Enough to get you by in case you're ever stranded in the middle of Guadalajara with no phone and no money." He smiles, and someone raises their hand in the front.

"Are you speaking from personal experience?" It's Jung Haerim, a girl from your World Cultures class last semester.

His smile only grows slightly wider as he shakes his head. "No, and yes. I got lost in Denmark. Copenhagen, to be exact, and I had to flirt my way onto the train. Not as fun as it sounds, trust me." He returns to the screen, carefully going over what the students could expect in the coming weeks. He reiterated that Professor Lee loves pop quizzes, so stay prepared. It was only then when he finally stopped speaking, flashing yet another award-winning smile. 

"Any questions?"

Your hand is crawling to cover your face as people start asking questions, further prolonging your suffering – when you feel eyes on you. Peeking through your fingers, you see him peering at you over the rim of his tumbler. They hold a mischievous glint, and he casually continues answering questions.

Where are you from?

"Los Angeles. I moved here when I was about…nineteen? Yeah." You already knew this.

How was your summer?

"Pretty good, I spent eight weeks in Puerto Vallarta. I got back maybe three days ago, and only then did I find out I got this position." You knew this, too. He probably remembers you.

What's your major?

"I'm a Music major, with a minor in Jazz Studies." He told you this on your third night together, over an IPA and a shared basket of chips and salsa. You burned your tongue on your food that night, you couldn't taste for days.

Oh? Why that?

"I've always been passionate about it. Funny, I took Spanish to broaden my horizons for it. I'll hopefully be a producer after graduation."

Your impatience begins to show as you bounce your leg irritably, and it's almost like he can hear your thoughts. "Alright, alright. I'll literally be here every time you guys are, so save your questions about me. Or, find me after! We can hang, I'm usually at the frat anyway." He shrugs, gesturing to the pile of papers on the desk.

"Syllabus, take one!" His smile is bright as you scramble down the steps, snatching the piece of paper off the desk and just about sprint to the door. You can feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment as you barrel down the hallway, deciding to skip your next class in hopes of drowning in your shame.

You spot Saerom a few feet down the hall, smiling and talking to one of your other friends, Chan. He was rushing that stupid fraternity this year, so if your math was right – you wouldn't be able to avoid Joshua at all this year.

"Saerom, I'm so fucked." You call, and she immediately spins around, a look of discernment on her face.

"Y/N, what are you on about this time? The last time you said that, it was because you left your Dior lip oil in Morocco." She deadpans, and you scoff. "Maybe it's about her classes." Chan reminds her coolly, and you sigh as you slump your forehead against his chest, earning a pat on the back from him.

"For once, the twink is right." Groaning, you bury your face further into Chan's chest. "I've got to transfer out of Spanish, or the University. I cannot be on this campus."

Your words are muffled against Chan's shirt, earning a sigh from Saerom as she places her hands on your shoulders. "Get a grip, Y/N! It's the first day of your last year, it's not the end of the world. You will not see any of these people next semester, trust me."

She's not understanding the severity of your issue, and only when you hear someone stop behind you, do you attempt to explain. "Saerom, you're not listening–"

"Saerom, is that you?" 

She looks up, her eyes lighting up as she gently gestures for you to hang on, pushing past to envelop whoever it was in a hug. You look over your shoulder, eyes wide as you see him looking down at your best friend.

"Shua! Oh my God, it's been so long! How's your mom?!" Shua. Oh, you feel sick.

Your breath hitches in your throat, before Chan's amused face comes into your line of vision as he drapes his arm over your shoulder – effectively hiding you from Joshua. "We'll let you guys catch up. See you later, Saerom?"

He tugs you away without getting an answer from her, and you almost make it out of the hall when you hear your name slip from Saerom's lips. "Oh, Y/N is my best friend! I'll have to introduce you sometime, you'd love her."

You barely catch Joshua's response as Chan makes a left out of the hall.

"I'm sure I will."

Friday, September 2nd.

"So…anything you want to tell me?" 

Saerom is standing next to you, placing forks next to slices of cake. The two of you had missed three birthdays on your trip, and you'd invited said birthday buddies over for a celebratory movie night to make up for it. You'd bought a cake on your way home from your first Organic Chemistry lab, and Saerom had set up the apartment with the small gifts you'd brought back from Puerto Vallarta.

To your luck, Saerom had pulled you aside while you were cutting the cake to talk to you.

"Uh, no? I skipped Spanish today? I used the last of my face wash?"

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she turns to face you. "You were never gonna tell me that you slept with someone this summer?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about? Obviously, you knew I'd find someone." 

You try to hold in the heat of embarrassment, but Saerom's like a dog with a bone. "Right, of course. How would I, your best friend, not know that you, my best friend, slept with a guy over the summer?" Soonyoung, Junhui and Nagyung were playing Mario Kart on your television, and couldn't hear the conversation being had in the kitchen. You felt your cheeks warm as you stared into the cake, a bit of chocolate frosting smeared on your knuckles. "Sae, it was just some random guy I met when you slept in. Why does this matter?" "It matters…" She huffs, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and you give her a look of get on with it. "It matters because he's my cousin, Y/N."

Your grip on the spatula tightens. You can feel your stomach drop, eyes wide as you look back at her. "He's your what?"

"I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're thinking. I'd never be mad at you for that…even if it is weird for me." She says quietly, and sighs as you feel panic set into your skin. "I just…Why didn't you tell me? I transferred to this university for you, I tell you about all my hookups, and I had to find out through him that you guys were sleeping together for the last three weeks of our vacation?"

"How could I have possibly known the two of you were related? Better yet, why does it matter? It was just a stupid fling, Sae. I'm not trying to marry into your family, God." You mumble, placing the spatula in the sink and covering the rest of the cake with the plastic lid. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't think it would come back to bite me in the ass." "It doesn't. I thought you already considered me family, Y/N. It seems I've been under the wrong impression for a while." Her eyes are cold as she moves the cake slices onto a tray, and you feel taken aback. "What the hell does that mean?" "What the hell did you mean? As if marrying into my family would be so fucking bad? We're a great family. We're loving, open, and honest. Nothing like you, it seems!" 

You gape at her, before you feel a bit of anger claw at your throat. "Saerom, I didn't think I'd ever see him again! Of course I'm going to hope he doesn't expect anything more from me, because I can't handle that. I want a career, I want to own my parents' businesses after graduation. I can't let a guy tie me down, no matter who he is to my friends. You have to get that." Her eyes are hurt, contrary to the furious tug on her brows. She knows what you want out of life, she always had – at least, what you would let her believe. Your parents had expectations, and you, as their only daughter, had to fulfill everything. Taking over your father's companies, inheriting your mother's properties, continuing the bloodline. It was all on you.

God forbid a girl have a little fun on vacation.

"It's always about you and your career, isn't it?" She mutters, grabbing the tray and walking towards the living room. She stops in front of the doorway, looking over her shoulder. "I thought I could trust you, Y/N. It seems that being a Risk Analyst may not be my perfect fit, after all."

You kind of hate that this is happening.

No, scratch that. You hate that this is happening. You don't even really understand what just happened, or how Saerom could have possibly interpreted what you said as something bad. Despite these horrible circumstances, you knew that Joshua couldn't possibly be a bad guy. Granted, you'd skipped your Spanish class twice now, doing everything in your power to convince Chan to enroll into it so you wouldn't have to face Joshua alone. You even said you'd pay his stupid fraternity dues if he got in, no matter how bad you hated Beta Tau Omega.

Joshua was sweet on vacation, but everyone has their vacation persona, and their normal life characteristics. At home, you were serious, studious, and even slightly uptight.

On vacation, you were…flirtatious, unhinged, a bit wild. You took shots from strangers and stayed out in clubs and bars until the wee hours of the morning. You'd play games of chicken with cute guys, letting them kiss you in bathrooms and put their hands up your skirt.

Joshua did none of that, he didn't indulge your behavior. At least, not right off the bat.

He'd caught your eye at a restaurant, speaking perfect Spanish to the waitress. He looked…refreshing. Sweet, different from your past romances. He looked like someone you'd actually date, but you were on vacation and you weren't looking for a long-term, potentially long-distance boyfriend. A quick fuck, a cum-and-go, if you will.

You'd bought him a mimosa, ignoring his line of vision as you befriended a few girls you'd met at the pool of your hotel. Saerom decided to sleep in that morning, and almost every other time you managed to catch Joshua alone – she wasn't in your presence. Maybe that was the universe protecting the both of them, while scorning you.

He'd sent a glass of white wine to your table, also avoiding your gaze and continuing his breakfast conversation with his friends. Jeonghan and Seungcheol, now that you can put a name to the faces. You didn't bother then, it didn't matter.

Not until now, of course.

You remember walking past his table on your way to close out your check, slipping your name and burner number on a napkin. You remember his friends teasing him, even hearing one of them give a low whistle. You remember said burner phone buzzing in your pocket less than an hour later, and meeting up with him that night at a salsa club down the beach.

You also remember cuddling on a hammock with him, pointing out stars you'd memorized as a kid because you wanted to be an astronaut. You remember him kissing your fingertips as you talked about your life back home, leaving out details of where you lived, where you went to school and who your parents were. You remember his eyes scanning your face, lingering on your lips as you sighed, voicing your unhappiness.

You had truly opened up to a stranger faster than you had anyone else. Even Saerom didn't know you felt this way about your life. How could she? She was under the impression that you loved it, you loved feeling important, you loved the money your lifestyle was funded by. That you didn't care about your parents' emotional absence, and the overwhelming amount of nannies being rotated in and out of your childhood in place of them.

Some things are better left unsaid, you remind yourself. You have to remind yourself that this façade needs to be upheld. You have to make your parents proud. You have to.

Right?

You're still standing in the kitchen when Nagyung appears in the doorway, her voice soft as she calls out to you. "Y/N?" You jump, a hand to your chest as you look up. She apologizes, "Sorry! It's just…the movie is starting. Are you coming?" "Yeah, sorry. I'll be right there." You gesture at the mess of cake crumbs and frosting, and she gives you a quick smile before scurrying back to the living room. You turn to wash the spatula, your mind just reminiscing as you grab the soapy sponge.

"So you're going to take over your father's business?""Yeah, I'm an only child, so I don't have much of a choice. If I don't take it, it just goes to the highest bidder. In my mind, it wouldn't be the end of the world if that happened, I'd get to pursue my own path."

"If you think that, why are you taking it over? Why not tell your parents that you have dreams you want to pursue? I know it's easier said than done, but office jobs are not good for the soul in my opinion." He spoke confidently, his fingers twirling your hair.

"I'd be ungrateful, I'd be throwing away hundreds of properties and investors. I'd be throwing away this lavish life I live, funded by my father's money. I'd be throwing away a secure future…and I'd be letting them down."

You didn't want to be an astronaut anymore. You'd long let that dream go, along with an eight-year-old you that had posters of Yi Soyeon and constellations plastered all over your room. You remember your mother standing in the doorway of your bedroom when you got your first poster of a supernova, a glass of Merlot in her hand as she sighed. "You'll never be like them, you know? Going into space…eating peanut butter on crackers and floating. It's not possible." She had been right, anyway. You had put all of those posters up in your attic, along with your rocket models when you moved for college. The only thing you kept and brought with you to University was the orrery your last nanny gifted you for your fifteenth birthday. It sat pretty on your desk in your room, mocking your every move.

You were getting a business degree. You were majoring in Marketing. You're taking Spanish for the same reason Joshua did, to broaden your horizons, and make business boom. To feed the greed that festered in your parents, and give them what they want.

But…unbeknownst to them, you were also majoring in Physics. You wanted to give yourself the sliver of hope that they wouldn't actually want you to take over the firms, that you'd get to continue your education and get your doctorate. That you'd be a plasma physicist and watch everything happen in real time for space research, without having to leave Earth's surface.

Delusions, all of it.

"Welcome. You missed the first fifteen minutes." Soonyoung scoots over, offering you the lit joint between his fingers as you sigh. Taking it, you plop down on the couch cushion, your leg draped over the armrest. "Takes time to have a clean house, Hoshi." Saerom glances at you from her spot on the floor, her eyes unreadable as she blinks. She frowns slightly, returning her attention to the television. You can tell she feels uneasy about the entire situation. She's probably asking herself how she didn't catch on, or why she didn't ask.

And the truth is, you're kind of glad she didn't. Had she done so, you probably wouldn't have slept with him. You probably would've found out they were family and completely ghosted him, or at least told him that you were her friend. You would've let him down much more easily, instead of leaving Puerto Vallarta without saying goodbye and throwing your burner phone in the garbage at the airport.

Everything would have been different, you would have acted differently.

Nonetheless, you can't dwell on the past. You can't keep skipping Spanish, and you can't let your grades slip over some stupid summer hookup. What you can do is pretend it didn't happen. Pretend you've never seen him in the nude, pretend you don't know what his lips feel like. Pretend like he didn't affect you deeper than he did, because it wasn't just sex.

And you hate that it wasn't.

Monday, September 5th.

"You love me, Lee Chan!" You'd done it. You'd convinced him to join your class so you wouldn't be subjected to Joshua's nonexistent wrath alone. Seeing Chan leaning on the wall next to the door was a sight for sore eyes – even if he was trying to subtly flirt with Haerim.

"Y/N, you're going to scare the hoes!" He speaks through gritted teeth, allowing you to envelope him in a tight hug. "Ugh, you've saved me from a world of misery." "You're so needy." He mutters into your hair, making you pull away with a smug look on your face. "Well? Why is everyone out here?" "Professor Lee isn't here today. We're waiting for Joshua to get the door open." Haerim speaks as she locks her phone, shoving it into her pocket. She eyes you up and down, noticing the slight frown on your lips. "Why did you skip twice already? The semester just started." Grimacing, you make up a lie. "Prior commitments. Couldn't miss 'em." "Right…" She gives you a look of discernment before fishing her phone back out of her pocket. "I'm gonna skip, actually. You still have my number, right? Can you forward what you guys do today?" Upon seeing your nod, she gives you a lazy smile and worms her way through the crowd of students forming around the door. Everyone is whining and complaining, but you're now searching the hall to see if you can also make a run for it…

"Hey! So sorry, guys. Professor Lee just called me." A slightly disheveled Joshua appears behind a group of girls, holding up a set of keys. You look away, meeting eyes with Chan – who is squinting at Joshua as if he knew him. "Is that…Isn't he the Vice President of Beta Tau Omega?"nk

"Leave it up to one of my best friends to befriend the enemy." You scowl, before looping your arm in his to tug him into the classroom. The front few rows are already filling out, with Joshua regaining his composure at Professor Lee's desk. You and Chan make a beeline for the back of the classroom, taking the last two seats in the third row.

"I'm rushing this year, I need to know my higher ups." Chan whispers back, and the two of you whip your heads towards the front of the room at the sound of Joshua clearing his throat. "Sorry again, everyone. Unfortunately, a late start will be followed by a quiz." He winces as a collective groan follows his announcement, and you feel your stomach flip. You don't know enough Spanish to pass this class by the seat of your pants. You barely retained how to introduce yourself from high school. "Don't worry, since this is the first quiz of the semester, I'll go easy on you. Just some general conjugation, and it's to see where you fall on the scale." Joshua speaks confidently as he walks around the room, handing stacks of the quiz to the first person in the row. You feel your eyes glued to the floor as he holds the stack out for you to take, and you hate how your hand shakes as you do so.

What you hate even more?

"Nice to see you in class, Miss Y/N." He whispers, before crossing his arms behind his back and walking down the steps. Chan snickers next to you, earning a smack. "Not funny!" You grit, whacking him again with the stack of quizzes.

"Once you are done with your quiz, I will grade it. You may then leave for the day, because I really do not have the energy to think of anything else to be done." He's rubbing his temples, and you hear a few people sigh in relief.

"Easy money." Chan whispers to himself, before clicking his pen and beginning the quiz. You glance down at it, your lip tucked behind your teeth. The quiz seems standard – a few conjugations, a few multiple choice. One short answer at the bottom, asking you to describe what you did over the summer in Spanish.

"Fuck." You mumble.

You can't lie to yourself, you probably fucked yourself over by skipping those last two classes. They probably reviewed, took notes. Maybe even engaged in actual conversation with each other, with Professor Lee…with Joshua.

Nonetheless, you feel your skin crawl when you notice that you've spent so much time agonizing over this, that you're one of the last students left. Chan finished at some point and you didn't notice, because now he's waiting by the door for you. You feel your throat tighten, forcing you to zero in and just scribble an answer at the bottom of your quiz.

Grabbing your backpack, you fling it over your shoulder before trekking the steps, noticing Joshua giving you a warm smile.

"Miss Y/N." He greets, taking your paper. You give him a tight nod, before spinning on your heel to leave. You're barely two steps in the right direction when you hear him again. "Ah, ah, ah! We need to speak, Miss Y/N. Turn around." You're semi-grateful that the classroom is nearly empty, because you know you look embarrassed as you turn back around. "Yes, sir?" His smile drops as you stand in front of him, and he taps his pen on your quiz. "You missed two classes consecutively. Per the syllabus, you can only miss six classes per semester, and we don't accept late work. You can't excel in this course if you're not physically here, you know." He's not being a douche. You know he's not, but you can't help and slightly bristle.

"I had other matters to attend to, sir. I'll be on time for the remainder of the semester."

This doesn't seem to satisfy him, and his brows furrow slightly before he shakes his head, sighing. He turns your quiz over, the capital C minus grade in red ink. 

"I know you don't want to be here, it's clear in your attitude. However, if you intend to pass this class, you have to show up. My tutoring hours are on the syllabus, revisit them and send me an email when you get a chance so we can get you back on track."

Your mouth opens slightly, and Joshua gives you a rather stern look. "Don't. I'm trying to help you." "Yes, sir." You mutter. He tilts his head towards the door. "You can leave." Huffing, you storm out of the room and nearly shove Chan out of the way when you reach the door. "Woah, hey! Don't kill me, Y/N!" He grabs your elbow, and you groan loudly. "Dude, what's your deal?" Chan asks, taking hold of both your shoulders as the two of you round the corner out of the hallway. 

"My deal, Chan, is that I fucking slept with the TA over the summer! That's my deal, dude!" You throw your arms up in exasperation, and a lightbulb seems to go off in Chan's head as his mouth forms an O-shape. You lean against the brick wall of the building, slowly sliding down and covering your face with your hands. 

"You..fucked Joshua Hong." He speaks, and you let out another groan, similar to that of a goat. "Yes, Chan. I fucked Joshua Hong in Puerto Vallarta in a random villa on the beach." "Spare me the details, will you?" He grimaces, running a hand through his hair. He squats next to you, making you look up at him with his hand. He gives your look of defeat a laugh, a concerned smile remaining on his lips as he touches his head to yours. "Don't worry, Y/N. He won't be anything but professional, I promise you."

"How do you know?" You whine, Chan's smile of concern turning into one of reassurance. "He clearly takes his job seriously, and he could've told the entire frat by now. Joshua Hong banged the biggest chaebol on campus, Kang Y/N. Crazy." You can tell he's trying to make you feel better, but you already knew Joshua wasn't the type to kiss and tell. Tell anyone other than Saerom, of course – but the two of you didn't speak much over the weekend so you felt a bit down in the dumps anyway. You didn't have dinner together or even go on a morning coffee run like you usually did – choosing to rot in your own rooms until hunger forced you out.

"He's Saerom's cousin, Channie." You pout, allowing him to tug you up off the wall and fling his arm over your shoulders. He sighs, resting his head against yours before he speaks. "Well, it can't get any worse than this, can it?"

– ☆ – 

You scribble a reminder on a sticky note to kill Lee Chan for his earlier words – it has gotten worse.

You had forced yourself to review the syllabus upon returning home, especially after your Organic Chemistry professor informed everyone twenty minutes before class started that it was canceled. You then forced yourself to type out a concise and polite email to Joshua Hong, and you forced yourself to press send. 

Ten minutes later, you forced yourself to read his reply.

And now, fifteen minutes after reading it, you were parked in the lot, your head resting against your steering wheel as you repeated some positive affirmations. "I can do this, I can do this. He's gonna be professional, I'm going to fix my hours, and I'll be on my way home."

Hopping out, you make sure to press your keyfob twice to hear it lock. Breathing in deeply, you made your way towards the hallway, seeing a few stragglers still on campus. It was nearly six in the evening, so they were probably also in office hours. Seeing the small office come into view, you stare at the names on the bronze plaques. Wow, you think. How important.

Kim Namjoon…WED. 3PM-7PM.

Jennie Kim…THURS. 4PM-8PM

Joshua Hong…MON/TUES/FRI. 2PM-6PM

Jeon Soyeon…MON-FRI. 10AM-1PM, OCHEM II ONLY.

Sighing, you grabbed the doorknob and twisted, pushing it open to reveal Joshua speaking on the phone. His eyes dart to you, a hand to his chest before gesturing to the table in the corner. You roll your eyes, before shutting the door and flipping the sign that reads In Session.

"Yes ma'am…mhm…I will get that done." Joshua is pinching the bridge of his nose, making you snort to yourself as you sink into the surprisingly comfortable chair in the corner of the room. You set your backpack on the floor, pulling your laptop out and a notepad. Clicking a pen, you fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to finish.

"Yes, I will see you on Monday, Professor. Alright, take care." He hangs up, taking a moment to process. He blinks twice, before shaking it off and opening one of the drawers. "Good to see you, Miss Y/N. This is the review that you missed on Wednesday, and you missed an oral introduction on Friday." Standing, he holds up a packet. "This is just verb conjugation. I was originally going to use this for extra credit, but seeing as you got the highest grade out of anyone in the morning session, I think it's safe to say you probably won't need it." You're silent as he hands it to you.

"You will have to make up for lost time here, so you can stay for…an hour today, and then you can make up the other two on Friday." He's checking the calendar by the door, taking a pen from his pocket to write it in. "Sounds good?" You don't answer, just nodding your head. He raises his brow at you, "Cat got your tongue?" Grimacing, you glance up at him. "Sounds fine, sir." He smiles a bit, before clicking his tongue. "Actually, just take it. You can go, Miss Y/N." 

He walks to the desk, shutting his laptop. Confused, you look at him. "You want me to go?" "I don't want you to be anywhere you don't want to be, even if it's for your own benefit. You can leave." He nods, sliding his laptop into his bag, zipping it up and hiking it over his shoulder. "I have a prior commitment I can't miss, so consider this a favor." Snorting, you just shake your head as you put your things away. "I don't need any favors from you." You mutter to yourself, and Joshua smiles brightly as he holds the door open for you. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Miss Y/N. Have a good night." "You too." You grumble, pushing past him to see Jeonghan and Seungcheol leaning against the wall. Seungcheol is holding an extra cup in his hand, and Joshua just lets out a sigh before greeting them warmly. Unfortunately, they're walking in the same direction as you, so you reach into your hoodie pocket for your headphones – but not before you hear a low whistle. "She looks familiar."

You just shove your other hand in your pocket, wondering if they'll keep talking. Does the other one remember you? Do they know you slept with Joshua? Did he tell them? "It's funny to think you'd remember anyone, when you're one of the biggest whores on campus." One of them speaks, and you can hear Joshua laugh lightly. "She's my student, so shut up. Anyway, how'd things go with the new OChem professor? I heard he's a mess, canceling classes back to back." You decide to tune them out as you reach the end of the hallway, not wanting to entertain them as the parking lot comes into view. You can see from where you're standing that there is a ticket stuck under your windshield wiper, and you groan. "Son of a bitch."

Jogging over, you take it off and see that it's not actually a ticket, but a note from someone saying they hit your car. Gasping, you round your car and see a huge dent in your bumper, black paint scraped off and your tail light broken. "Motherfucker!" 

You can hear the trio of men getting closer, hearing the beep of the car next to yours as it unlocks. Scowling to yourself, you take your phone out to call your father. He should know what to do..right? His assistant picks up on the second ring. "Kang Enterprises, Gyuri speaking."

Sighing, you speak to her for a moment. She tells you he's in a meeting, and can't come to the phone at the moment. It's nearly seven at this point, what could he possibly have a meeting about? She says she doesn't know, but that your mother is also at the office and she's available. You reluctantly agree to speak to her, leaning your forehead against your rear windshield.

"Y/N? Why are you calling?" She sounds disinterested in whatever matters you may have, and you feel Jeonghan skirt past you as he rounds to the driver's side. "Sorry," He mumbles, and you scoff before moving out of the way. He grimaces before hopping in, and you can hear Joshua speaking to Seungcheol as he also rounds to the driver's side. 

"Hello, Mother. Someone hit the beamer–" You barely get the words out before she starts responding. Yelling, actually – and so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear. Joshua is unfortunately hopping into the passenger seat, and he can see the look of defeat on your face. He gives you a sympathetic smile, and you frown before turning away.

You're still standing there as they pull out, but you've put her on speaker now. She's yelling about how irresponsible you are (and let's not forget you weren't the one who hit a car here) and that she can't believe you expect them to send you another. "I don't want another, I just want Daddy's advice on where to take it to get it fixed." "I don't care, Y/N. We'll get another one down there tomorrow. Just…be more responsible, will you?!" 

She hangs up, and you tongue your cheek so as to not cry in frustration. You don't want to drive the car home in this condition, you could get pulled over and then it's worse. Pulling up your messages, you scour who you could call. Chan is at a stupid pledge thing, you're not speaking to Saerom. Sighing, you quickly shoot Soonyoung a text, before calling the local towing company. They towed Chan's car last year when the two of you accidentally swerved into a fire hydrant trying to teach Nagyung how to drive.

Msg From: Soonyoung 🐯

[7:01PM] tf you mean someone hit ur car

[7:01PM] your PARKED car??? i'm literally in the shower, y/n

[7:03PM] ok uhh i think jun is on his way, if you wanna wait for him? if not i can finish up here in like 10 mins

Great.

Wednesday, September 7th.

"Shua." You hear Haerim speak from the front of the room. Your mother had angrily called you last night and said Gyuri would be dropping off your replacement vehicle today, so you were anything but focused until you heard the nickname slip from her lips.

"Haerim." He speaks, not taking his attention away from the corkboard he's putting up on the wall. It has Polaroids of all the students in your class and a few others you don't recognize. They probably took those on the days you weren't here.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you single? My friend drops me off on her way to French with Professor Bae and she thinks you're cute." Haerim is very casual with her conversation, making Joshua laugh lightly as he turns, holding a few thumbtacks between his fingers. "I am single, but I am unfortunately not on the market. Sorry to your friend, Haerim." She shakes her head, about to speak when you hear another person pipe up – Kim Myungjun, a guy you hooked up with at a sorority stoplight party your sophomore year. "How come? Did you get your heart broken or something?" Joshua smiles gently, sticking another Polaroid onto the board. He sighs, before turning back to face the room. "Something like that. I met a girl over the summer. Didn't end very well."

You can't believe your ears, and you can feel your eyes narrow as Chan shifts uncomfortably in his seat. You're willing to ignore it, until you hear Myungjun speak up. "Man, don't let that deter you from finding your soulmate! Love is everywhere, if we let one person dictate our confidence, we give their opinion value. I read that somewhere." Joshua nods, his smile never wavering, when he meets your eyes. His head tilts to the side, but he speaks while looking at you anyway. "I dunno, man. Something about that girl…she was different." Chan coughs awkwardly next to you, and you welcome the distraction as you tear your angry eyes away from Joshua's mischievous ones. You pat Chan's back, offering him a sip of your water bottle when Joshua returns to his conversation with Haerim (and apparently, Myungjun.) "Anyway…yeah. I'm alright for now." You spend the rest of the class with your face hidden behind your hair, studying the stupid Quizlet link Joshua had sent out last night. Professor Lee would finally be in this Friday, and she was expecting all A's across the board that day. You watch the clock on your phone, willing time to go faster with your mind.

The moment the clock strikes noon, you're out of your seat – only to hear Joshua call after you.

"Chan, Y/N, if the two of you could hang back for just a second." He says, as the students shuffle out. You glance at Chan, who has an unsettled look on his face. The two of you take the steps down quietly, waiting for everyone to file out when Joshua holds up the pink Instax camera. "You guys weren't here for class photos, so I just wanted to get those out of the way. Professor Lee uses them to remember names." Chan engages quickly, and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Msg From: Jang Gyuri (K. Ent.)

[12:05PM] Miss Y/N, I am outside with your new vehicle. It seems I am on the West Campus.

Shit.

The panicked look on your face doesn't go unnoticed by Chan, even as he's blinking away the effects of the camera flash. "Are you okay?" "Gyuri is here, and she has my keys." You respond, clicking away on your phone when Chan covers the screen, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "I'll get them for you! Please, please, please—" "You're only asking because you think she's pretty." You roll your eyes, and Chan flashes you a mischievous smile. "Correction, I think she's beautiful. C'mon, I literally do everything for you!" "Fine, fine. Only because you make me feel guilty." Chan beams at you as he hitches his bag over his shoulder, the both of you completely forgetting this meant you'd be alone with Joshua. He calls over his shoulder that he'll wait for you in your new car, making you snort.

"You can stand right here." Joshua points at the small piece of tape on the floor. You grimace, sliding your bag onto Professor Lee's desk and fixing your shirt. "Your necklace is twisted," He speaks again, and you feel around for it.

"Here…can I?" He sets the camera down, and you give him a rather sour look before agreeing. "Fine." "No need to act like this, Y/N." His breath is minty, and it's softly hitting your skin as he works the clasp to the back of your neck. Your grandmother gave you this necklace. He knows, you told him about it tipsy off a mango margarita.

"She got me this on my tenth birthday. I have never taken it off.""She believed in you.""What a shame, right?"

His fingers linger on the glittering pendant, before centering it on your blouse. "Ready?" "What did you mean by different?" You blurt, and his eyes widen as he reaches for the camera. "What?" "You said I…nevermind. Just take the picture, I have somewhere to be." You force a smile, and Joshua gives you a questioning look. He positions the camera, but sighs. "Too forced. Just relax, Y/N."

Huffing, you soften your face, letting your cheeks reach your eyes as you smile gently. "Much better." He whispers, taking the photo quickly. You blink a few times, before reaching for your bag. "And Y/N?" "What!?" You gripe, and he smiles. "Not everything is about you, pretty." Rolling your eyes at the slight lurch in your stomach. Pulling your bag over your shoulder, you stop as he huffs. "Wait, it came out wrong. Can you stand here again?"

He flicks the faulty picture onto the desk, and you quickly position yourself in front of him again. You clear your throat, smiling again as you move your hair to your face – when you see him smiling tenderly behind the camera. "Why are you looking at me like that?" "Hm?" He snaps the photo, taking it as it prints and covering it with his hand from the light. "Nothing, you look a lot nicer when you smile." You don't reply, waiting silently to see if the photo develops nicely. He doesn't speak either, before flipping the photo. You're smiling back at him, and he holds it up. "Satisfied?"

"Yeah, whatever." You shrug, and he nods. He hands you your bag, and gives you a warm look. "Have a good day, Y/N." You hesitate, but take your bag. "You too."

– ☆ – 

"Hey, Shua."

He looks up to see Saerom standing in the doorway of his bedroom, her arms crossed as she drags the tip of her shoe against the hardwood.

"Hey! What are you doing here? And if you say you're here to see any of these perverts, I'm going to escort you out myself." She just laughs, shaking her head as she enters his bedroom. It's a bit larger than the others, and she flops onto his bed. "Why did you tell me you slept with Y/N?" Joshua chokes on his spit, coughing harshly in his desk chair. Saerom looks slightly amused as he regains his composure. "Just right out with it, huh?" "Well, she's my best friend. I don't know how I didn't know you were in Mexico, too. I literally watch your Instagram stories." Saerom pouts, and Joshua laughs. "Maybe because I like to live in the moment? I don't document every part of my life, Rom." "I mean, yeah, but still. And how did you guys even have time to meet? I was with her all the time." Saerom wails, making Joshua just shake his head. "She did mention she was on vacation with her best friend. She never mentioned your name, and we also hung out mostly at night. I'm assuming if you guys didn't share a room, you wouldn't have been able to notice, anyway." "We never share a room when we go on vacation together. We like our privacy." She rolls her eyes, and Joshua smiles knowingly. "I know, I was there with Cheol and Han, and I practically begged the front desk to get me one of the beach villas. I did not want to share a room with them, or whatever girl they managed to tag team."

"As your cousin, this is a weird conversation to have. As Y/N's friend, I feel awkward. We fought a bit, and I can't really talk to her knowing that you guys…did it."

"You're so…Okay." He snorts at her theatrics, before opening his laptop. He sees the photo he took of you in the corner of it, your smiling face peeking out at him. He shuts it quickly, having forgotten he took it with him. The photo developed after you left, so it's not like he lied.

"Anyway, she's such a cold person normally. It's hard to get in there." Saerom sighs, and he feels a pang in his chest. You'd opened up very quickly with him, but Saerom didn't know that – nor did she need to. "I guess it works, though, she can be personable when she wants to. Can't believe she wants to own that big ass company her father has. I'd cry myself to sleep if I had that much pressure on my shoulders." You're living such a double life and your best friend doesn't even know it. How can you hide those things from her? Do you fear being judged, or being seen as less than? Someone who can't handle the pressure of being the golden child, someone who can't hold a candle to her parents? Someone who disappoints.

"Yeah, me too."

Saerom keeps talking about you, but he can barely hear her. His phone is open in his lap, and he's staring at the message thread with your burner number.

Msg To: Y/N (PV)

[06/29] hey, this is joshua. [06/29] you left your number at my table.

Msg From: Y/N (PV)

[06/29] hi handsome ;) [06/29] are you free tonight?

He had been free.

He remembers the stupid white dress you wore when you met him at the salsa club. He remembers the confidence radiating off you when you asked the bartender for your drink. You made it evident you didn't need him, that you weren't looking for anything serious – but you slowly dropped the act. You let him in just a bit, you danced with him and you let him walk you down the beach to your hotel room.

You were the one who asked to sit on one of the hammocks on the beach. You were the one who asked him about himself, wondering what his own life was like. You encouraged him to dig deep and tell you his darkest secrets, assuring him you'd share your own as well.

Your life was much more intense than his. He was studying music, he was living it, breathing it, enjoying it. He wanted that, more than anything, and nothing was going to get in his way. But you…you wanted so much more than what you were told you could have.

You wanted to be more than your parents. You wanted to explore, you wanted to live. He remembers how sweet you were when he told you his dreams. how gentle you were when you voiced your opinion on them. He appreciated your honesty and your kindness, and he enjoyed your presence.  You…were more than just the intimacy. More than just the makeout sessions you initiated, including that night in the hammock. More than the way you made him chase you just enough. About as much as one can for a vacation fling, anyway.

"...And she makes the best bolognese, Shua. You'd love it." Saerom sighs, making him nod quickly. "I'm sure." "Anyway, I gotta go. I was supposed to pick up dinner, so I can extend the olive branch." She chuckles, getting off the bed. "I'll see you around, Shua." "Bye, Rom. Be safe, let me know when you get home." "Will do." Saerom exits his room, closing the door behind her. He opens his laptop, fishing the photo of you out of the corner and shoving it into his wallet. He should feel weird about keeping it, but that means a perfectly good photo is going to waste! It'll be safe in his wallet.

Unlocking his laptop, he sighs as he sees his email pinging him.

From: YNKANG@SNU.EDU

Subject: Office Hours

Sent: 10:32PM

Hello. I hope this email finds you well.

I am not able to attend Friday's office hours. I will also not be able to attend office hours next week, as I have prior commitments I must tend to. I know it is rather unorthodox, but would you be available tomorrow? I do not have classes after 1PM and I frankly don't need a language class to tarnish my perfect record.

Let me know if this works for you. Thanks.

Best,

Kang Y/N

010-1230-1995

Thursday, September 8th.

From: JHONG@SNU.EDU

RE:Subject: Office Hours

Sent: 11:21PM

Thank you for reaching out. I understand prior commitments can make attending office hours difficult. 

I am not able to promise availability for Thursday. Jennie Kim has the office, she is the TA for Professor Lee Chaerin in French II. This being said, I can accommodate in two ways.

I can give you an assignment to be turned in on Friday. You will have to come by the classroom to retrieve it. Or, you can get a study room in the library and I can offer two hours of my time for your use. Please email me back before 10AM if the latter is your choice.

Best,

Joshua Hong

010-9999-8212

Bad idea, Y/N.

Very, very bad idea.

You should have gone to pick up the stupid assignment. You should have picked up the stupid, fat packet he was going to torture you with to make you regret being a douche to him despite basically making the guy fall in love with you over the summer.

Instead, you suffer here. You suffer inside these four walls, with a freshly showered Joshua Hong standing in the doorway, his friends bidding him goodbye. Jeonghan and Seungcheol peer in, their eyes twinkling with something devious – making Joshua roll his eyes as he shut the door with his foot.

"Sorry about that, they're nosey." He's holding a basketball under his arm, backpack hiked over his shoulder as he walks around the room to settle at the table.You haven't spoken yet, just eyeing him down. "Your hair is wet." "Damp, not wet." He corrects you, opening his bag for his sweatshirt. "It's freezing in here, Jesus Christ." "Maybe wear a proper shirt next time." You roll your eyes, opening your laptop to see the digitals you had developed from your vacation. Saerom took a lot of them – you drinking out of a fresh coconut, you wearing a pretty pink dress to the beach, you in a new swimsuit you bought specifically for the trip. There were photos of the two of you together – one a little girl took of you having a picnic on the beach, another of the two of you getting matching tattoos on your ankles.

And one you took of Joshua.

You were sitting on him, right after the two of you woke up in your hotel room. The photo was taken from an odd over-head angle, but his smile was wide and so natural. You were making him laugh, you remember.

"Come on, just one picture!"

"You literally just pinched my leg to wake me up, give me a second!""God forbid a girl wants to wake you up. Come on, I leave in two days!"

You'd lied, you left that night. You dumped your burner in the airport trashcan, not bothering to read the few texts he'd sent you only moments earlier to your arrival there. They were gone forever – and you hadn't felt guilty then, not really. You knew you'd miss him a bit, you knew yourself that much.

You wouldn't have missed him at all if you knew that you'd see him again…for sixteen consecutive weeks. And possibly for the rest of your time on this campus. And possibly, the rest of your life, since you were best friends with Saerom.

The pictures haunt you a bit, you notice.

You're staring at them in silence, feeling a bit of anxiety crawl up your throat when you hear Joshua clear his own. "I brought a few assignments, in case you don't want to do…this." He gestures to the room, and you just shake your head.

"Paying for the class, I might as well try and get along with you." You mutter, clicking your tongue when the photo of Joshua comes back into circulation. "I'm going to the vending machine, do you want anything?" You abruptly get up, grabbing your wallet out of your bag and stalking to the door. He looks up at you, a soft look in his eyes as he shakes his head. "I'm okay." Nodding, you retreat to the vending machine down the hall. You're staring at the ground as you walk, fully expecting to have an uneventful trip not even ten feet away.

However, it seems that even that can't go right for you.

"Hey. You're Y/N, right?" Your head snaps up, seeing Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the vending machine. Your eye twitches a bit, and you clear your throat before nodding. "And you are?" Jeonghan gives you a knowing look, but entertains you. "I'm Jeonghan. This is Seungcheol." With pursed lips, you nod. "Uh, nice to meet you. You guys are in…Beta Tau, right? My friend is rushing it." You stand awkwardly, and Jeonghan gives you a slight smirk. "Yeah? Good luck to your friend, Y/N.' "Yah, don't be like that. Did you want the vending machine? We're still deciding." Seungcheol tugs Jeonghan back a bit, and you quickly feed in your change, pressing the buttons to get what you want. In your frenzy, you get two bottles of jasmine tea.

"Say, Y/N. How was your summer?" Jeonghan asks gently, and you feel your shoulders tense before you glance over with a scowl. "Is it really on your mind that much? I fucked your friend, so what?" "Wow, no need to get so feisty! Kitty has claws." He smiles, elbowing Seungcheol, who just pinches the bridge of his nose. "Whatever, man. God forbid a girl has fun on her summer vacation." You turn on your heel, walking back down the corridor and hearing Seungcheol scold Jeonghan behind you. You nearly rip the handle off the door of the study room, seeing Joshua standing in front of the whiteboard with a textbook draped open in his hand. He looks back to see your furrowed brows, and the two teas in your hand.

"Are you alright?" "Did you have to tell all your friends that we slept together? Because I didn't tell anyone. I didn't even tell my best friend, you told her. I'd appreciate if you would stop ruining my fucking reputation." You slam the bottles on the table, and Joshua gives you a surprised look. "What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Joshua. Your stupid friend just cornered me at the vending machine, asking me all these stupid questions like he knows something about me. Newsflash! He doesn't, and neither do you!" You sit with a huff, and Joshua's ears are slightly red as he tongues his cheek. He glances down at the textbook in his hand, closing it and sliding it onto the table. You don't bother looking up at him, hearing the jingling of the door before he speaks. "Excuse me."

The door shuts behind him, and you look up to see that he didn't take any of his things. Meaning that he'd be back, after doing God knows what, and you'd have to deal with it. Sighing to yourself, you rub your temples, wondering how things got like this.

The semester just started. You didn't have time for this.

Silently, you begin to pack up your things. Your laptop goes in the designated slot, your extra tea gets packed snugly into the front pocket. You click your tongue, about to get up when the door opens and Joshua emerges with Jeonghan in tow, looking like a kicked puppy.

Your brows nearly reach your hairline as Jeonghan shuffles forward. Joshua gives him a hard look. "Apologize."

Sucking his teeth, Jeonghan gives you a once over before speaking quietly. "I'm sorry that my assumptions and behavior made you uncomfortable, and it won't happen again." The hand gripping your backpack loosens a bit, and Seungcheol pops up from behind Joshua with a sheepish look on his face. "I'm also sorry, Y/N. I know this is an odd situation for the two of you, and our instigation doesn't make it any better." Your jaw is a bit slack, and Jeonghan looks at Joshua. "Can I go now?" "Did you hear her accept your apology?" He asks, and Jeonghan sighs. "I guess not." Blinking, you just give Jeonghan a thumbs up. "You're…you're good, yeah. Uh, don't worry about it. You either, Seungcheol." You look over Joshua's shoulder to the older man, who smiles in response.

"We'll get going, then. We've got a party to plan." Seungcheol says warmly,  and Jeonghan turns on his heel to exit the room. "I don't want to hear this shit from you guys again." Joshua mutters, all but slamming the door after them.

"You didn't have to do that." You mumble, and he looks at you with a scoff.

"Yes, I did. Whether we slept together or not is none of their business, and the only reason they know is because they were there. I don't need that being spread around campus or them being douchebags to you." He grabs the textbook again, uncapping the dry-erase marker before glancing at you. "Sit down, you've got me for two hours." You don't like the slight flutter in your stomach, or that your body involuntarily does as he says. You silently unpack your bag again, and he finishes writing example problems on the whiteboard. Feeling your stomach a bit uneasy, you uncap the tea to take a sip.

"Conjugation is very important. When I was grading your quiz, I noticed that was your biggest problem. I don't know how you got a B, really, when most of that quiz was conjugations, but I digress. Can you do these for me?" He holds out the marker, an expectant look in his eyes.

"Sure."

Friday, September 16th.

It'd been a little more than a week since you met with Joshua in the library.

And since the two of you officially acknowledged that you'd slept together. What you didn't know was, while he was having his own feelings about the history that weighed the two of you down, he wasn't going to force you to return his affections. In fact…he even felt a bit silly, liking you so much off of three weeks of getting the full experience of…well, you.

Better yet, he wasn't even going to tell you there are any residual feelings on his end. If he knew anything, it was you and your type. If he came off too strong – flowers, a date, chocolates and the like, he'd scare you off even more. You were skittish, like a deer, and he had to either slowly gain your trust…

Or irritate the living hell out of you every chance he got.

Subtle flirting, double entendres, maybe the occasional lingering look. He knew that if he wanted a chance, and man did he want it – he was going to have to work for it. No problem, though. You were definitely worth the wait.

"So, as you can see, the proper conjugation is hablar, not hablando." His laser pointer is steady at the bottom of the projector screen, and he looks up to see half of the class staring intently and the other half jotting down notes. You were neither of the two – your head was resting on Chan's shoulder, eyes low. He cleared his throat, your head jumping up and a wince crossing your features.

Joshua knew Chan was really no threat. The fraternity really liked him, and he was set to move in this weekend. According to Chan's Instagram story, you'd been at his dorm the night before helping him pack up. Saerom had also been there, and Soonyoung – another Beta Tau member. You had been holding a can of Red Bull and in one of the following videos, you were shotgunning another.

"Any questions?" He calls out, and Haerim shoots her hand up. "Yes, Haerim?" "Since this is a conversational class, how would we ask someone out? Or, for their number?"

The classroom fills with childish snickering, and Joshua just smiles as he shakes his head. "Well, I-" "I don't think this is an appropriate question, to be honest." Your voice is heard from the back of the classroom, and Haerim turns in her chair, a wicked smile crossing her lips as Joshua rounds the desk, perched on the edge of it. "And why not, Y/N?" She asks, and Joshua can see you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

"This is Beginner Spanish Conversation, not Coffee Meets Bagel. Flirt on your own time, at your own pace." You scoff, and Haerim's smile only grows wider. It's like she knows something about you, and Joshua notices you begin to bristle slightly. "Why are you so uptight about it, Y/N? It's just a question." "I'm paying for this class, as is everyone else. I think I'd like to appreciate my money's worth by learning something I'll actually use." "Alright, ladies. Honestly, Miss Y/N is partially correct. This is not Café y Rosquilla, but I do think that this is…a learning moment. Asking someone out does involve conversation, you know." Joshua attempts to diffuse, but he can see your subtle annoyance at his siding with Haerim. "So, for example, if I wanted to ask out…" He looks around the room, before a flash of diablerie crosses his eyes. "If I wanted to ask out Miss Y/N, I'd have to make conversation. I'd say…eres muy bonita." "Yeah?! What else?!" You hear Myungjun shout from the far left side of the room, and you can feel Chan's knee bumping yours. You scowl at him, earning a smile as he hides in his hoodie. "I'd say…" Joshua scans your face, and he knows you're probably embarrassed. Embarrassed, but enjoying his subtle attention. He pushes off the desk, pacing in front of the students. "Hm, I'd probably say I like her dress, or me gusta tu vestido."

He watches you cross your legs, tucking the extra fabric of your black dress under your thighs. "Okay, but how do you ask her out!?" Haerim interrupts excitedly, and Joshua is on the first step of the stairs before he catches your eyes again.

"You don't just ask someone out flat out like that. You build repertoire, you make conversation." He rolls his eyes playfully, and you think you're about to get off without any further embarrassment when you hear Chan speak up next to you. "How much repertoire can you even build at this point? Psychology says it only takes two minutes to decide if you like someone." Joshua sees you gape at Chan, before pinching his bicep. Chan pouts in your direction, rubbing his arm as Joshua holds back a laugh. "Psychology also says that there are five components to figuring out if we will have a crush on someone. Physical attraction, proximity, similarity, reciprocity and familiarity. Miss Y/N is very pretty, so physical attraction is checked off. Proximity is also checked, as we see each other three times a week for this class." "What about similarity?" Myungjun pipes up again, making you sink lower in your seat. Joshua is enjoying making you squirm a bit, and he steps up a few more. "Hm, I think that's something I'd have to figure out. Tell me, Miss Y/N, do you enjoy…long walks on the beach?" Your eyes are full of fire, and you'd be almost scary if he didn't notice the way your lip wanted to twitch into a smile. Haerim shouts for you to answer the question, making you send her a scornful look – and she just sticks her tongue out at you like a child. "I do…enjoy long walks on the beach."

"What a coincidence, so do I! Now, we have a similarity. Miss Y/N is familiar, because again, I do see her quite often. Now, it's about reciprocation. This is when you ask the question, this is when you try and make a move." "Shua, how do we make the move!?" Chan asks, and you kick his shin, about to tell him to shut up when Joshua finally reaches your row. He's looking you dead in the eyes, his hand gently wrapping around the edge of your desk. He leans forward, and you can hear the stupid woo-ing of your classmates. "Señorita Y/N, ¿le gustaría salir conmigo?"

Somehow, this all feels like some stupid romcom for the both of you. The class is egging you both on, and Chan is next to you with the most idiotic smile you'd ever seen. You huff, the class is now chanting for you to agree to said…"fake" date.

"No." You say quietly, and Joshua feigns pain. He holds his hand to his heart, a pained expression on his face. "You wound me, Miss Y/N."

He turns to the class, all of which are giving you the dirtiest look ever. "Now, now. This was just an example, don't look at her like that." He scolds, and the class turns back to face the front as he barrels down the steps, checking his watch. 

"Shit, it's already ten past noon. You guys are free to go, and if any of you are taking Psych with Professor Seo Jungkwon, tell him I fulfilled his lecture for the day." This earns a laugh from the class, except you. You're angrily stuffing your laptop into your bag, the class eagerly exiting the room. Chan is holding your arm, apologizing most likely, but you don't seem like you want to hear any of it. By this point, Chan looks a bit like a kicked puppy as he quickly takes the steps down, with you following slowly behind him.

Chan is out the door by the time you make it to the last step, and the classroom is empty.

You arms are crossed as you approach the desk, where Joshua is quietly shutting down the projector. His eyes don't meet yours as he disconnects the machine from the wall, winding the cord up to tie together. "Y/N." He calls gently, and you huff angrily. He bites back a smile.

"Why do you insist on embarrassing me? The first week, it was you running your mouth to my best friend. Last week, you practically held Jeonghan at gunpoint to apologize to me. Today, it's putting me on blast in front of an entire classroom with people I will continue to see for the rest of the year."

"Oh? Was it embarrassing?" He's nonchalant as he looks up, tucking the wrapped cables behind the projector. Your eyes are narrowed, and it seems you've caught onto his little game. "Do you get off on this or something? Knowing you fucked one of your students?" "Hm, not necessarily. And none of what was done was done to embarrass you, per say. It's just decent honesty, and we both know you deserved an apology for Jeonghan's behavior." He states matter-of-factly, making you purse your lips. "What about your behavior? You asked me out in front of all these people!" You gesture to the empty room, and Joshua gives you a small smile. "And you rejected me in front of all of those people. The way I see it, it's a teaching moment."

He's on the same side of the desk as you now, resting against it as you complain. HIs smile seems to be getting under your skin, because you grab his shirt by the collar, pulling his face close to yours before you speak through gritted teeth. "Use someone else as your stupid guinea pig. I don't want to be with you, Hong." You're holding him so close, your lips just barely brushing his. He can't help but scan your face quickly, his hand reaching to brush a stray curl off your face. Your eyes follow his fingers, feeling them tuck the hair behind your ear before he swallows carefully. You can feel your stomach flip slightly as his hand drops, ghosting over your hip as he pushes off the desk, making you slightly stumble back. His fingers grab you gently, pulling you flush to him before his nose is touching yours. "Tell me you don't want me," He whispers, his breath hitting your lips making your lashes flutter closed as you press your lips to his. A whimper escapes his throat as he kisses you back, his grip tightening as your hand lets go of his shirt, your palm resting against his stomach as your other hand holds his waist. The kiss is slow but desperate, your tongue licking into his mouth in the way that drove him crazy over the summer. 

He can't help himself, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, moving his lips down your jaw and exposed neck. A sharp inhale from you as he reaches one of the many sweet spots he'd discovered, a soft whine sounding in his ears making him feel dizzy as he nips at your skin. Pulling back, he holds your face close to his as he speaks again. "Tell me you don't want me, and we can stop this right now. I'll be nothing but professional for the rest of the semester."

He can tell that wasn't what you were expecting. Your eyes are wide and full of mixed emotions, but overall, they flash with a bit of fear. "I…" Your hands move to rest on his hips, a frown on your lips as you let go, and he does the same. His arms cross with an expectant look on his face, and you grimace.

"Stop embarrassing me in front of people, and if you don't have a good reason to talk to me or be near me, don't engage at all." 

He gives you a nod, his smile reappearing as he reaches to wipe your lip gloss from his lips. "That being said, I'm guessing you will not be attending office hours tonight?" Huffing, you look away. "No. I have to help Chan move into the frat house with you and your hooligan friends."

"So I'll see you tonight anyway." He speaks with a grin, and you tongue your cheek. "Leave me alone, Joshua."

You spin on your heel, but his arm is on your elbow before you can walk away. He pulls you back, pulling you into a hug, pressing his lips to your hairline as you hesitantly wrap your arms around him. He speaks against your hair, "One more. For the road."

"Joshua." You groan, trying to hide the giddy feeling spreading in your stomach. He smiles at you, planting a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Just one, and I'll let you slam out of here like we were arguing."

You roll your eyes, but let him slot his lips with yours, the minty taste of him still lingering from the previous kiss. This one is much gentler, the warmth of his body against yours comforting as he pulls away with a chaste kiss. And another. And another.

"You said one." You grumble, swatting at his side to make him let you go. He smiles, his thumb coming to wipe at your lips. Your lipgloss is gone entirely, just glitter remaining. "Mmh. I'll see you later." "Whatever." You pull away from him, and he watches as you slam your way out of the classroom, a few students from your class still lingering in the hallway catching his eye. They look questioning, but he just shrugs as the door closes. He sighs as he looks around the empty lecture hall, a glimmer on the third step up calling his eyes. 

Making his way towards the steps, he sees the gold plating of a seven-pointed star, a message engraved in the back. 

For my brightest star, Y/N.

Picking it up, the diamonds mock him.

He feels slightly stupid to think this is fate, while knowing that once you realize it's gone, you'll be panicking. It seems nothing is really going right for you these days – your car being hit, fighting with Saerom, not being able to stand your ground against him…and now your necklace is 'gone'. He wants to be selfish and say it's because you're being a bit of a jerk to him.

So he'll believe that.

– ☆ –

"Chan! It's not here!"

Your hands feel disgustingly dry, having practically ripped apart every cardboard box you helped him pack. You'd managed to haul everything from his dorm to the fraternity house a few blocks down, having begged Saerom and Soonyoung to help you steal a flatbed from the construction majors. The three of you were helping Chan unpack a box of his underwear when you swiped your hair back from your neck, not feeling the chain of your necklace on your skin.

The four of you had stopped unpacking the moment you started panickedly patting yourself all over, and even standing up to shake off your shirt and hair. Now surrounded by a few of Chan's blankets, you were doing all but ripping up the carpet in the bedroom to find your cherished gift.

"It's not in the hallway! Going downstairs!" You hear Saerom call, and Chan is emerging from the bathroom with his flashlight on. "I swear you had it on when we fought earlier."

"Fuck, what if it fell off there?" You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remember if you felt anything off after leaving the room. People stared at you as you barreled out of the language hall, you kissed Joshua…

You kissed Joshua.

"I'm pretty sure I had it on when I left! Remember, I even changed clothes when I got home so I wouldn't dirty my dress helping you move. I swear I felt it!"

At this point, you're shaking your hair out once more and Chan is throwing ripped cardboard into the hallway, hitting a passing Joshua. "Ouch!"

"Shit, sorry!" Chan winces, and Joshua scours the room, before his eyes land on you. Your hand is gently patting at your chest, where your necklace would usually sit as you shake out your sweater. He gives Chan a look, making him look back at you. Joshua glances at the cardboard boxes on the floor, and Chan gets the hint.

He clears his throat, garnering your anxious attention, "I'm going to take these down to recycling, and I'll check outside, okay? Just keep looking in here, it's gotta be somewhere."

Your eyes are slightly wild, and you just nod as you begin to shake Chan's blankets. A pair of underwear falls out, making you huff as Chan exits his room. Joshua leans on the doorframe, watching as you move around calculatedly. "What's got you so frantic?" You look over your shoulder, now squatted over a pile of shirts. "Why is it any of your business?"

He sucks his teeth, hands resting in his hoodie pocket. "Maybe I can help you? Ever think that I'm not out to get you like some sort of Boogeyman?" Your shoulders sag in defeat, and you just beckon him into the room. "Shut the door." You mutter, and he does just that before squatting in front of you, his ringed fingers splayed across the shirts in your hands. 

"Shake these off." 

"For?" He asks, but takes the first one and does as you ask. You feel a tear threaten to escape, but blink rapidly as he takes the next shirt. "Just do it." He does, but by the fifth shirt, he looks up at you. "You know…if you tell me what you're looking for, I may be able to help further." He says it like he knows something, and you just roll your eyes as you move onto the stack of Chan's sweatpants. "I lost my necklace, okay? I can't find it."

Stopping his movements, he smiles at you. "Hm, any idea where?" "No." You sigh, shaking off another pair of pants. A dollar bill floats out of the pocket, but neither of you bother to touch it as it floats down to the carpet. "I think you're wasting your time looking in here, actually." You look at Joshua, who is now moving to stand up. Scanning his face, your eyes narrow. "Where is it?" Stretching, he extends a hand to help you up. You scowl, getting up on your own as he shrugs. "Come on." He walks towards the door, flinging it open as two of the members run past with a basket full of eggs. "You better not be throwing those in here!" He barks, and their giggles only get louder as they barrel down the stairs.

He leads you to his bedroom, leaving the door ajar for you to close as you enter. 

Your eyes scan the bedroom – it's very…serene. It's bigger than Chan's, and the bed is right under the window. There is sheet music pinned up to a corkboard above his desk, a few guitars propped up against the wall. His walls are covered in photos of him and his friends, and you spot one of him and Saerom as kids pinned higher on the wall than the rest. There is a small bookshelf, with a Bible and a few candles on top of it.

You're standing at the foot of this bed when you feel his hands on your neck, making you jump slightly. "Relax." He murmurs, the cool metal of your necklace making you shiver slightly.

"I found it on the steps in the classroom. Your clasp broke, so I took it to my friend in town. She's a jeweler, and she fixed it. I have the original clasp, in case you wanted to keep it." He holds up a plastic baggie, no bigger than the palm of his hand. You turn to look at him, your hand ghosting around for the star that hands in the middle of your chest.

"I should have texted, or emailed, at the very least. I just figured, I'd see you anyway—" "Thank you." You interrupt, your arms instinctively enveloping him into an embrace. You squeeze slightly, his own hands hovering over your back before touching you gently. "You're welcome." Without moving away, you speak into his sweater. "I'm sorry I've been such a douche to you lately."

He laughs a bit, his chest moving against your cheek. "Yeah…you have been. I'll send your parents an invoice for emotional damage." His fingers are rubbing circles in your back, and you hate that he knows you joke about your parents' emotional unavailability. Biting back a laugh, you push off him. Your hands linger at his sides, and he tilts his head.

"I meant what I said, you know." He states, and you glance up at him with a quizzical look on your face. "What?"

"That if you don't want to do…whatever this is, I'll leave you alone. I'll be professional for the rest of the semester." He gestures between the two of you. You don't look as taken aback as you did in the classroom, but a scoff does escape your lips as your arms fold across your chest. 

"Okay? What does that have to do with now?" He steps a bit closer, making the back of your knees hit his bed. You sit out of instinct, watching as he runs his hand through his hair. He's so handsome.

"It has everything to do with you, and your general existence. Your best friend is my cousin. You're friends with Soonyoung, Jun and Chan, and they're all members of my fraternity. You're a student in a class I assist, we're going to be around each other no matter our feelings about each other." He's not really giving you an out of this conversation.

"I know you don't like that I told Saerom about what happened between us during the summer, and I want to apologize for telling her in the first place. It just slipped out, and I am sorry." He speaks sincerely, and you blink up at him before scooting slightly back on his bed, crossing your legs. He takes this as a sign to continue.

"I also want to say that what happened between us doesn't have to mean anything to you, at all." He shifts uncomfortably, making your eyes narrow. "I know it was just a fling, and I'm probably just confused about my feelings." 

You hate the way tears prick at your eyes, before he spins his desk chair out, sitting down and leaning forward.

"I wanted to ask if you want to be transferred out. I have the transfer form ready, there is a spot in Professor Yoon Mirae's class. She said she'd gladly take you if that was the case." Your head snaps up at this, his eyes boring a hole into the pictures on the wall. "You…want to transfer me out?"

He stares at his fingers, toying with one of his rings as he replies. "I think it would be best for you. It only meets twice a week, and you'd probably get along better with Somin." He looks up at you, and you don't know what expression is on your face for him to immediately soften. "You don't want to?" "I think you…" You swallow thickly, scooting towards the edge of his bed, moving to stand up. "I think we need to forget that anything even happened between us." You whisper, and you can see hurt lace his eyes before he clears his throat, looking away from you as he nods. "Right." "I don't want to hurt you, Joshua." You fake confidence, noting the way he blinks rapidly, before standing up. "You're not hurting me, Y/N. We fucked over the summer. It's not like we dated."

You wince at his use of words. "Yeah, but–" HIs hand pushes the baggie with your clasp in it into your hand, "Don't worry about it, Y/N. I'll see you in class on Monday." Your fingers instinctively close around his, moving to squeeze his hand before he pulls it away. You stare up at him, feeling your face slightly burn in humiliation. You know that he's sensitive, and that the kiss earlier today probably meant a lot to him. Why is he acting like this? Like you didn't open up to him and tell him everything you couldn't even tell your best friend, like you didn't sleep with him for three weeks straight before leaving Puerto Vallarta.

You remember Chan's words…something something forming a crush in two minutes. 

What can happen in three weeks?

"Was that all it was for you?" You ask gently, watching as he turns away from you. "I really don't want to have this conversation right now." He mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose and walking towards the door. He tugs his hoodie off, the white muscle tank showing off his broad shoulders. Shoulders you dug your nails into that summer, and you can see the remaining faint lines from you trailing down his back. 

"Was it just sex?" You ask again, and he sighs. "No. It wasn't."

He hangs the hoodie up on the hook behind the door, and you take a step to him. "Then why are you acting like this?" He turns to look at you, eyes wide with incredulity. "Me?! Why are you acting like this? For almost a month you couldn't keep your hands off me, you couldn't stop talking about hating your life here, and suddenly, through whatever force of the universe, we're both stuck in this life that you dread. Excuse me if my best effort isn't enough for you." Eyes narrowed, you can feel your stomach bubble with a bit of anger. "There's no way you're the same guy I fucked for three weeks, Joshua. We were on vacation in a foreign country. I was telling you everything about me because I wasn't worried about ever seeing you again." "No, you did that because you're a liar." He mutters, making you suddenly feel a lot smaller than usual. "I am the exact same person I was then, Y/N! I'm not like you, I can't just flip-flop between two personalities. I can't lie to everyone that I care about just because I'm too afraid to stand up to my parents. You're doing yourself a disservice." 

He's breathing heavily, and you can feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. Your pride is stronger, though, and you let out a humorless laugh. "I'll see you on Monday."

You shove past him, throwing his door open and slipping out before you slam it with all your might. You see Jeonghan carrying a basket with Chan's name on it down the hall, his eyes wide as you storm past him.

"Are you o-" "Fuck off." You spit, not bothering to swing back into Chan's room for your stuff. Saerom could bring it home, or leave it there, you don't really care. All you really know is that this place has got to be the most suffocating you've ever felt.

Wednesday, October 12th.

It'd been almost a month since you'd last spoken to Joshua.

You weren't in class the following Monday, having instead driven out to one of your mother's properties. You stayed the weekend there, and only drove back in the middle of the night on Tuesday. Professor Lee emailed you, and so did Joshua – though his was very much a copy-paste email. You didn't seek him out, you didn't speak to him. He didn't even attempt to make eye contact, almost always being the first to exit the classroom. You didn't even really talk to Chan or Saerom since you'd helped him move into the frat house, and you could tell they were growing worried about you.

Especially Saerom, as she heard Wherever You Will Go by The Calling play through your speakers almost everyday since. You played this song the first time the two of you went on vacation together, you were nineteen and your grandmother had just passed away that past November.

You didn't have time to worry about their feelings, though, as you parked your car in the lot, Chan silently unbuckled his seatbelt. It was nine-forty-six in the morning, and the two of you sighed simultaneously. "Want to take the long way? We've got fifteen minutes." You check your watch, and Chan gives you a slight nod. "Sure." The long way was walking around the language building into the technology hall – and Chan decided now would be a good time to update you on how Jeonghan and Seungcheol had an ongoing prank war with Mingyu and Wonwoo. It apparently wasn't going to end this weekend, and the reason? Beta Tau Omega was notorious for holding the best Halloween ragers. They held the largest one every year, with the other frats on campus stumbling to be pre-game parties and sororities simply giving up and going to the parties instead of hosting. The problem here was sourcing – Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua planned the party every year, including the random Jell-O wrestling and drinking contests. The liquor was never-ending, and the clean-up after was a mess (and at the hands of the newest members.)

This year, Mingyu insisted that he and Wonwoo could plan an even better party than the trio – hence, facing the wrath of practical jokesters Seungcheol and Jeonghan. Joshua insisted he wasn't involved in this, and would help either duo with the planning if necessary.  

"Are you even listening?" You hear Chan snap his fingers in your face, and you blink at him. "Yeah, sorry. Planning?" He begins to speak again, allowing you to loop your arm with his and rest your head on his shoulder when you look up – and see Joshua leaning against the wall, twirling a strand of Baek Hyejin's hair. She was the Organic Chemistry TA, you got your labs graded by her. She was always very sweet.

You can feel eyes on you as you and Chan walk in lockstep down the stairs, and you see Joshua staring at you as Hyejin speaks to him. Nodding along as if he's listening, as if he cares. You scoff inwardly, shaking your head as you force your eyes forward, ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach.

It doesn't even matter. You don't like Joshua, and you wouldn't date him, either. You had too much to lose.

Seeing as you drove down to one of the properties, you met with your mother, as well. Your Saturday was spent in your mother's office, designing a new building with her to place on one of her newest properties down south. "You're going to manage this one first. The other tenants don't know you yet, and you'll have to ease into getting them to like you."Your father wasn't around the entire weekend. Your mother sighed repeatedly over dinner, before ultimately abandoning her plate at the table and whisking herself away with a bottle of Merlot. You didn't ask many questions, but you do remember walking by her study before going to the guest bedroom and hearing her on the phone, presumably with her sister.

"I wonder when she's going to get married. He can't be some random guy…do you still keep in touch with the Mins? Maybe Yoongi is willing this time." You hadn't even graduated yet, and she was already trying to pawn you off. Your father had stated strictly that he didn't want you to marry until you were firmly situated within the companies he owned, and your mother constantly bickered against it. No one ever asked you what you wanted.

Not that it mattered, anyway.

"...And so, Mingyu had to wash flour out of all his bedsheets. I think we'll have to get a new washing machine." Chan sighs as the two of you turn into the language hall, and you grimace. "You probably will, that shit sticks like glue." "Yum, gluten patterns." Chan laughs as you shiver, walking into the classroom. Somehow, Joshua is already there, making your grip on Chan's arm tighten a bit. He gives you a concerned look, but allows you to pull him slightly closer to you as you climb the steps to your regular seats in the corner.

"Good morning, everyone!" Joshua calls with a smile, and you hear the majority return the greeting as you and Chan situate yourselves. Crossing your legs, you face forward to see Joshua holding up a three-page packet. "There is a quiz!" A collective groan echoes the room, and Joshua gives a sorry grin. "I know, I know. However, it is an open-note quiz! Feel free to use your notes, and there is no time limit, even if you go over the noon end of the class. Take your time, and you can leave right after you're done." The class just fills with murmurs as everyone begins fishing through their bags for their notebooks, but you made no effort to do so as Joshua began walking around to distribute the papers. He hands two to Chan, who passes you yours and you notice the way Joshua's eyes linger to Chan's jacket on your shoulders before going back down the steps.

"I'll be grading these tests over the next two days, and I'll submit your grades by Thursday night. That way, we can review on Friday and you can attend office hours later that day if you're not satisfied with your grade or just feel like you need a little more help. Sounds good?" He asks, and earns a resounding yes from the class.

Time seems to be dragging on as you carefully read and re-read every question, hoping that your lack of notes won't fuck you over. You remember Chan giving you shit last week for only taking notes on your laptop – and you probably should have listened to him when he told you. Why? Because now you're without notes and you're possibly a little more than screwed, you've only been studying for your other classes.

Your 'how hard can it be?' mindset was now biting you in the ass.

You glanced up to the clock, seeing that there was fifteen minutes to noon – and three students remained aside from you and Chan. Clearing his throat, Chan inched his notes closer to the edge of his desk, making you kick his foot to move them back. He huffed, closing the notebook and standing. He tucks it into his backpack before hiking it over his shoulder, whispering that he'd meet you at the cafe as you'd planned last night. You nod, blowing him a joking kiss before hearing Joshua clear his throat.

The two of you look up, seeing the assistant with a raised brow, beckoning Chan towards the front. Chan gives you a small smile, before making his way to the front. You can hear them whispering at each other, and another two students stand up. You can feel a bit of nervousness sinking into your stomach as the last student stands as well, her bag on her shoulder as she drops her test on Joshua's desk. They chat for a bit, and you hate how you can hear his smile.

"B plus, way to go, Jiwoo. Keep this up, you'll get an A on the final!" He cheers, and she gives him a thumbs up before prancing out of the room. You feel small in the giant room, and Joshua sighs as he leans back in his chair. His laptop is out, and you assume he's going to start inputting grades.

Instead, you hear soft music flowing from the laptop as he starts moving around, grabbing the broom from the corner of the room. "Let me know if it bothers you, I'll turn it down." He speaks, and you just wave him off without looking at him.

You're staring at the stupid question for five minutes before huffing, not knowing why the difference between the subjunctive and the indicative mood even matters for this class. (Yes, you do. You're just being stubborn because you don't know the answer and it bothers you.) "Having trouble?" Joshua calls from the front, a smile on his face as he texts someone back on this phone. Probably Hyejin.

Probably planning a stupid date at a stupid restaurant where they'll order stupid dishes. Probably staring at each other like idiots and liking each other so much that nothing seems to satisfy their carnal needs–

You stop scribbling on your paper, blinking at your sudden train of thought. Why do you even care? Why does it even matter who he's texting, and what he's doing after this? Why? "Y/N?" He calls gently, and you look up to see a worried look on his face. "You okay? Thinking kind of hard, aren't you?" You huff, grabbing your bag by the strap and slightly crumpling your paper as you grab it. Your anger seems to radiate off you as you rush down the steps, nearing the desk with a sour look on your face. "So much for taking my time, huh?" He gives you a small frown, holding his hand out for your quiz. "I wasn't rushing you, just asking if you're alright. Your face was scrunched for twenty minutes." You know it was. You can still feel the tension between your brows as you rub it gently, a pout on your lips as you hand him the paper. "Yeah, well…your job isn't to stare at me. See ya."

"Hmm, but I like staring at you." He hums, uncapping his pen with his teeth as you make your way to the door. "Have a good day, Y/N." You hate the sing-song of his voice.

– ☆ –

The cafe had been super packed, so you and Chan decided to take your drinks to go. Unfortunately, Saerom was holding a study group at the apartment, so your only option was Chan's room at the frat house. You begrudgingly let him try to cheer you up as you sulked up the stairs to his room, holding your drink as Chan carries your bag for you.

"You know, one of the brothers thought we were dating? They asked me after I left Spanish earlier." He ponders aloud, and you snort. "Yeah, I can see why. I do get…pretty affectionate." You reply sarcastically, taking his hand in yours for extra emphasis.

He rolls his eyes as the two of you reach the top floor, and he fishes his keys out as you continue to tease him. "I'd never date you, you're a snotty-nosed brat. I bet you don't even know how to kiss." He sticks his tongue out at you, making you gape.

"I may be a snotty-nosed brat, but I'm a great kisser. Not that you would know, you've never felt the touch of a woman." You bite back, making him gasp. "I have too felt the touch of a woman! You literally took my-" He cuts himself off, looking over your shoulder down the hallway. You furrow your brows, looking over to see Joshua whispering sweet nothings in Hyejin's ear as he hugs her, and her giggles as she brushes her nose against his.

"I'll see you later?" He mumbles, eyes low as he nearly kisses her. She giggles again, before placing her manicured nail on his chest. "Bye, Joshie." "Bye." He smiles, letting her spin out of his arms, watching as she walks down the hall to the stairs. Only then does he notice that you and Chan are standing there, and his face flushes lightly. "Hey, guys. Sorry you had to see that." "Don't be." Chan nods awkwardly, his hand finding your hip to pull you into his bedroom. You grimace in Joshua's direction, before skirting into Chan's room. Chan lingers at the door, before sighing, and entering his room.

"Don't be upset, Y/N." He murmurs as you kick your shoes off, setting your drink down on his desk and shrugging off his jacket. "I'm not upset." You mutter, grabbing your bookbag and pulling out your laptop.

"I can tell you are." He sighs, slipping his shirt over his head, and opening his drawer to reach for a new one. "He's just our TA for a little longer, then we'll both pass the class and get the hell out of there." You look over your shoulder as he pulls a new shirt over his head, rolling your eyes. "It doesn't matter. He's gonna fuck who he wants to, so all I can do is the same." "Y/N, I am only a man." He gives you a warning look, and you snort. "Not you, you rabid dog." "Hey! I've gotten better! I even invented a stroke, I call it the helicopter." He moves his hips in a circular motion, making you shriek out a laugh. "You're a fucking freak."

"I'm just saying, I'm available. If not, I heard that Myungjun is still into you." He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. You wrinkle your nose, taking a seat on his bed. "Hell no. He likes to talk about his hookups, I don't like blabbermouths." "Then you're fucked, Y/N." He smiles, taking a seat at his desk. "But, I have a proposition." "Chan, if it involves your dick anywhere near me, I'm going to kill you." "You liked it the first time!" He throws an eraser at you, and you snicker. "I didn't know any better then. Anyway, I see the way you look at Haerim. You're not slick." You wag your finger at him, and he flushes lightly.

"So my plan is, I let you act a fool in here and make it seem like we're fucking, and you have to help me get Haerim. Tit for tat." He points his pen at you, and you scoff. "That is so not tit for tat! Haerim is a distinguished young woman, she'd never go for a gremlin like you." "Hurtful!?" He slumps in his chair, making you snicker. "I appreciate your help, Channie. But really, I don't care. It's his life." You shrug, and Chan knows you're lying. "I'm gonna get some water, I'll be back."

You hop off the bed, smoothing your skirt as you open the door. "Can I also steal snacks?" You ask, and Chan nods. "Go for it, Seungcheol buys them." He snorts, and you give him a grin as you close the door behind you. 

You take a deep breath as you brace the stairs, hearing a few of the frat brothers speaking quietly in the den. Peering over the banister, you see a card game strewn on the coffee table, with Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua holding cards. They're all dressed comfortably, and Seungcheol has an ice pack on his knee. He looks up, seeing you peering over the banister. He doesn't speak as you smile at him, only returning it as you continue down the steps. You make it back down to the first floor, giving them a curt nod as you walk past them into the kitchen. "Gentlemen." "M'Lady." Jeonghan replies without looking up, and you look over his shoulder to see that he's got a dirty deck of cards, and he's about to win. "Don't mind me." You skirt into the kitchen, grabbing two cups out of the cupboard and helping yourself to the ice machine. You mind your business as you move around, grabbing a bag of chips and a packet of Gushers, before you see a woven basket on the counter with an assorted amount of condoms. You grab a rope of them, holding it between your teeth as you tuck the chips under your arm and the glasses in your hands. You move back across the den, once more greeting the men. "Gentlemen." 

Joshua looks up to see why your voice is different, seeing the blue foil packet reflecting the light. Seungcheol snorts, "Have fun, don't be too loud. Minghao is sleeping across the hall from you." "Will do, Cheol." You reply, carefully trekking the stairs. You can hear a soft Ow! What'd you do that for!? as you reach the top floor, hearing the front door slam. You put the cups down on the windowsill next to the stairs, and look over the banister to see Seungcheol and Jeonghan snickering. "Did he leave?" You call, and Jeonghan gives you a thumbs up. You rip the top condom off the thread before tossing down the rest. "Thank you, Beta Tau Sluts!" 

"You're welcome!" Seungcheol calls back, catching the condoms before they land in his drink. You grab your drinks again, carefully opening the door with your elbow and Chan looks up to see you. You set the glasses down on his desk, holding up the condom between your fingers.

"Use this with a really special girl, I just pissed off the Vice President of your frat with it." You snicker, and Chan just shakes his head. "Get in here, idiot. We need to study, or OChem is going to eat us for breakfast." "Oh, me first!"

Friday, October 14th.

Joshua put in grades the night before, and you were one point shy of a B minus.

You pretend it doesn't bother you.

Chan was sick, so he'd texted you that morning asking to take notes for him. You took the opportunity to invite Haerim to sit with you – and talk him up. Luckily, there wasn't much talking to do – she already thought he was very cute, but didn't make a move because she thought the two of you were together. You were honest about the past between you, and she just snorted, admitting she'd done the same with a friend of hers.

Msg To: Channie ♡

[10:33AM] mission haerim x chan is a go! [10:33AM] i gave her ur number so…don't fumble.

"Hello, everybody." Joshua calls from the front, and you and Haerim snap your heads up. He starts setting up the projector after everyone replies to his greeting, and she glances at you. "I wonder who broke his heart over the summer." She sighs, and you nod.

"I don't think she meant to." You shrug, your heart warming a bit at the memories. You really regretted it, of course – and it bothered you that it didn't bother him more. You'd been spending a lot of your nights just thinking about it, about him, about opening up to him.

"Well, I hope he heals. She definitely messed up, I've heard he's an absolute sweetheart." She nods, and you smile tightly. "Yeah, he is. His cousin is my best friend. Saerom?" She nods again, "I have Psych with her." "Alright, we're reviewing today." He sighs, and you notice how tired he looks. Eyes are a little swollen. Maybe Hyejin dumped him.

You don't like the giddy feeling you get at that thought.

The review goes by quietly, with Joshua's voice growing more and more tired as he speaks, and he wraps the class up with almost thirty minutes to go. Students walk by and say they hope he feels better, and he just nods at them. You linger, telling Haerim you need to talk to Joshua about office hours, and she leaves without a second thought.

The door closes behind her, and you clear your throat.

"Sick?" You ask, holding out a bag of cough drops. You'd bought them that morning, after Saerom complained of sore throat. He glances at you, and the bag, before shaking his head. "I'm good." Frowning, you step closer to him as he puts his laptop in his bag. "Then what's wrong?" Your voice is gentle, and he stiffens at the sound of it. "Nothing is wrong, Y/N. Thank you for worrying, but I'm fine."

He looks up at you, his eyes lightly rimmed red. You go to speak, but he pulls his bag over his shoulder, moving away from you. "I'll be at the house today, Chan is sick. If you need to talk." You say, before spinning on your heel to leave.

He doesn't respond, only turning away with a frown. "Have a good day, Joshua." "You too, Y/N."

– ☆ –

You were standing in front of the Beta Tau house, waiting for someone to come open the door. Jun was at a study session with Saerom and Soonyoung was out teaching a class, so you were at the house alone. Hearing the doorknob jingle, you look up to see a sleepy Seungcheol opening the door.

"Hey, Y/N. Come in, Chan is in his room." He yawns as he opens the door wider, and you just shake your head in amusement. He and Jeonghan had stopped being a problem after Joshua called them out, and it wasn't long for you to figure out they were friendly based on their treatment of Chan. Very brotherly…very…teasing.

"Hey, Y/N." Jeonghan gives you a curt nod as he stands in front of the mirror by the stairs, giving himself a once over before turning to Seungcheol. "I look okay?" "Yeah." He nods, and you look at Jeonghan over your shoulder. There is a silver packet sticking out of his pocket, "Might wanna tuck that in a little further." You call, before turning back around and trekking the stairs.

"Thanks!" He calls, shoving his hand in his pocket with wide eyes. Seungcheol laughs as you reach the top, before you hear the door open and close with Jeonghan's departure. "Boys." You roll your eyes, before reaching Chan's door. You carefully open the door, trying not to let too much light in.

Chan is draped across his mattress, a fever patch plastered on his forehead. There are half empty bottles of electrolyte drinks all over the floor, and a bowl with Jeonghan's name printed across it. You look inside, seeing broth lingering. 

They're taking care of him.

"Y/N?" You hear him croak, and you almost coo. "Oh, Chan. You're a mess." You set the bag of goodies down on his desk, fishing the thermometer out. "Open." You command, peeling the patch off his forehead and sticking the thermometer in his mouth.

You pick up a bit before the thermometer beeps, and you stare at the numbers. "Pretty mild, you've got a 101° fever." You grimace, shaking the thermometer off before skirting around to unpack the bag.

"I'm going downstairs to make you some tea, okay? I'll be right back." You mumble, before peeling the plastic off another fever patch and sticking it to the back of his neck. He shivers a bit, but nods as he closes his eyes.

Exiting the room just as carefully, you sigh. Taking the stairs quickly, you spot Seungcheol on the couch, "Hey." "Hey. He took some Advil a bit ago, and we've been alternating." He informs, and you can feel warmth spread across your chest. "Aw, you guys really care about the pipsqueak." "He's a good kid." Seungcheol nods, taking a sip of his water before eyeing the ginger root in your hand. "Cutting board is in the bottom cabinet, to the left." "Thanks." You smile, making your way to the kitchen. You see Joshua standing against the dishwasher, arms crossed and eyes closed. There is a popcorn bag in the microwave, likely his. You don't bother to say anything, just quietly opening the cabinet and retrieving the stone cutting board, rinsing it with water.

"He's also thrown up everything we've given him the past twelve hours." Joshua murmurs, his eyes still shut as he nods. "Oh. Sounds like viral gastroenteritis." You sigh, opening the drawer for a knife as the microwave beeps. He doesn't move towards it, but fills a pot with water for you and puts it on the stove. He watches silently as you slice up the ginger root, your shoulders tense.

The water starts to heat up, and you move to find a mug and honey. "Here." Joshua pulls one out from behind him, water droplets still on it from being freshly washed. You take it, "Thank you." "Can we talk when you're done? I'll be in my room." He murmurs, and you nod slowly. "Yeah, sure. I just need to feed him, something is something." He nods, opening the microwave to pull out the bag. He turns, opening a cabinet to retrieve a bowl and pour the popcorn in. He gives you a tired nod before exiting, and you peek around the corner to see him hand the bowl to Seungcheol, who thanks him quietly.

You sigh, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. You strain the boiled ginger tea, pouring it over three cubes of ice and a hefty amount of honey. You clean up quickly, and organize things in the kitchen before exiting again, a spoon in your hand in case they didn't give you one for the porridge you bought.

"Good luck." Seungcheol smiles at you, and you give him a soft laugh. "Thanks, I'll need it." 

Trying to get Chan awake proves to be most difficult once you get back to his room. He rolls over lazily, and you have to prop him up so he can drink the tea. You also carefully prepare his porridge, even going as far as spoon feeding him.

"It's so bland." He whines, and you just shake your head at him. "It's supposed to help your stomach, Channie. Just eat." He gets halfway through the bowl before he decides he doesn't want anymore, asking you to just leave it. You nod, putting the lid back over the top and choosing to clean up the mess in his room. Bottles, plates, cups, all in your arms as you exit the room once more, carefully walking down the stairs.

Seungcheol sees you, and quickly gets up to take them from you. "Woah, I didn't realize it accumulated so fast. Here, I got it, pretty." He grabs everything in one hand, before taking it to the kitchen. You follow, rolling up your sweater sleeves when he waves you off. "You're a guest. I got it, go." You find yourself floating back into Chan's room one last time, just peeking in to make sure he's sleeping. You call out, telling him to call you if he needs anything, that you'll be here for a bit. He just gives you a thumbs up. You take a deep breath, seeing Joshua's door slightly ajar. You walk over slowly, knocking on the door gently and poking your head in. He looks up from his desk, his laptop open to six different tabs and a drafted email. "Come in."

"Hi." You greet, closing the door behind you. He sighs, rubbing his palms on the fabric of his sweatpants. You inch toward him, looking at his screen. It's full of drafted projects, and the email is addressed to a certain Kwon Jiyong, DMA. You reach over and gently close the laptop, his tired eyes watching you do so.

"What's wrong?" "I'm sorry." He confessed, and you tilt your head. "Hm?"

"I was a jerk to you, the other day." He blinks up at you, and you stand for a moment, thinking back. "You mean when you called me a liar?" You smile, a soft laugh escaping. "I'm not mad anymore, you're weren't wrong. I am a liar." Shrugging, you point to the bed. He nods, and you take a seat. "Whether or not you are one…doesn't give me the right to treat you the way I did. I blew up on you, and I never do that, and it's frankly been eating away at me." He admits, and you nod, trying not to let your eyes go too wide. "Losing sleep?" "Unfortunately." Muttering, he opens the laptop again, typing in his password for the tabs to pop up again. "This isn't helping, either." he spins the mouse all over the screen, and you nod.

"Maybe you should take a breather. Go for a walk, find a muse." You offer, and he looks at you with a pained expression. You think this is the smoothest conversation you've had since your reunion. "Come on, let's go on a walk." You stand, offering your hand. He looks at it, and you wiggle your fingers.

He stands, taking it cautiously as you walk forward, grabbing his sweater off the hook and handing it to him. You open the door, seeing Haerim in the hallway with a bag in her hand.

"Haerim?" You call, your hand tightening around Joshua's, and she jumps. "Shit, Y/N. You scared me." She holds her hand to her chest, before holding up the bag. "I bought him some stew, Mingyu told me he's been really sick." Joshua peers over your head, making Haerim's eyes widen like saucers. "Shua?" "Hey, Haerim." He nods, and only then does she see the tight hold you have on Joshua's fingers. "I can explain–" You start, and she just smiles widely. "Damn, I didn't recognize your game. Respect." She nods, holding her hand over her mouth. You wince as he shrugs, tugging you slightly forward. 

"Text me." She whispers as he walks past you, and you nod quickly. The two of you walk down the stairs, and Seungcheol is now sitting on the couch again – and he gives you a lazy smile. "Damn, Y/N. You've got hella game." You laugh embarrassedly, as Joshua fixes the way your hands are intertwined. He slots his fingers between yours, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door and opening it. "Ladies first." He murmurs, and you wave goodbye to Seungcheol before stepping out into the cool October air.

"Where to?" He asks, closing the door behind himself. You shrug, shivering slightly as you start down the path. "Wherever you need to." 

The two of you walk aimlessly, before you spot the hill you used to visit during your sophomore year, before you finally convinced Saerom to transfer to your university. You'd lay on this hill with Jun, staring at the sky and talking to him about the stars. He was always surprised about how much you knew, but was kept in the dark like everyone else.

Everyone but Joshua.

"Here. I used to come here all the time." You point at the lavender-covered hill, and he lets you lead him up, before standing amongst all the flowers. "Look at the sky." 

You tilt your head up, watching as the evening sunset looms overhead. He does the same, before speaking quietly. "I'm not dating Hyejin." Your head lolls to the side, a knowing look on your face. "I know." You lie, shrugging nonchalantly as you turn back to the sky. "How?" "You like me. Hard to move on so fast." You hesitate, and he inches closer. "Yeah?" "Yeah." You breathe, feeling the warmth of his body radiating onto you. You shiver a bit, and he sighs, tucking you into him. His sweater is open, and he lets go of your hand to wrap your arms around him. He does the same, wincing lightly at the cold feeling of your hands on his back.

"I'm still very sorry, you know." He laments, and you give him a tight smile. "I shouldn't have said any of it, especially not about your parents." He looks down at you, your eyes peering up at him already.

"My parents suck, don't take back what you say about them." You shrug, scanning his face. "I am confused about the Hyejin thing." "Right, that." He sucks his teeth lightly, a slight blush coating his cheeks. "She…asked for my help, and I have a really hard time saying no." "Of what nature was this 'help?'" You make air quotes, and Joshua can see a glint of the green-eyed monster in your demeanor. He smiles, moving to card his fingers through your hair gently. "Making an ex-boyfriend jealous kind of help." "Doesn't explain why you two were about to kiss when Chan and I got up the stairs." You say pointedly, his fingers toying gently with your earring. Another gift from your grandmother, he remembers these, too. A sun and a moon. "Let's just say I could recognize your voice from a mile away." You quirk a brow at him, before scoffing. "You're obsessed with me." "Since I saw you in that white dress." He nods, making you roll your eyes. You bite back your smile, "Can I kiss you?" "You're asking?" He tilts his head, and you snort. "Some of us don't like to assume things." You say with a tinge, and he shrugs. "I know when someone wants me." "I don't want you." You shake your head, a frown on your lips as you run your own hands through his mussed hair, peering over his shoulder to see an empty campus. Odd, for this hour. "Oh, you don't?" He entertains your shenanigans, before tilting your chin up to look in your eyes. "Nope." You pop the 'p', nuzzling your nose with his. His fingers are gently tracing your jaw before he presses his lips to yours. You melt into his touch carefully, his other hand softly holding your hip, squeezing before he pulls away, touching his forehead to yours. You blink up at him, "I don't want you. I need you."

"Did you sleep with Chan?" He asks, a bit roughly as he adjusts his hold on you. His hands move to rest on your back, and you shake your head. "Not recently, no." "Recently?" His eyes widen, and you snort. "Once, three years ago." You roll your eyes, and he nods. "No plans of sleeping with him soon?" "None." You murmur, and he bites his lip, a smile threatening to take over. "Plans of sleeping with anyone else?" "Don't know, there is this one guy." You pretend to think, pulling his hands to the front and lacing your fingers with one, taking him further down the hill slowly. The flower field comes into view, and you look up at the sky to see it's darkened remarkably. "Do you know the story of Altair and Vega?" "The story of Altair and Vega?" He echoes, allowing you to sit him down, plopping down next to him before clearing your throat. You nod, placing his hand on your inner thigh. "For warmth." You roll your eyes, before leaning back on your hands. "It's an old Chinese legend. Altair is the brightest star in the Aquila constellation." You search the sky for it, before spotting it overhead. "There." You point, and he nods. 

"You told me about those three stars over the summer. Vega, Altair and Deneb." He recalls, and you feel your smile take over your face. "You remember that?"

"We can talk about that later." He shrugs, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you nod carefully. "Right…so, out of the three, Vega is the brightest. In their story, Altair is nothing but a shepherd. He herds cows after being abandoned by his family, and he yearns for love. His only love is music, and he plays lovely melodies on the flute."

Turning slightly to face him, you shrug. "Vega was said to be a goddess, from the Heavens that was forbidden from interacting with mortals, but she heard his song and it was love at first sight. She would leave the Heavens at sunrise and sunset to be with him. They even had children together. Her mother grew suspicious, and demanded she return to the Heavens. She did so."

"The shepherd had a beautiful ox with thick skin. Seeing the way his owner yearned for the love of the goddess, he offered his skin as a sacrifice to reunite them. It didn't work." 

"Why?" Joshua asks gently, his eyes still staring up at the stars overhead. "Her mother was enraged. She created a band of stars to separate them. Their love can't be, not the way they want it." You sigh, and he glances at you.

"So what are you saying?" His voice holds no malice, only curiosity. You feel his hand tighten around your thigh slightly, prompting you to remove it and swing your leg over his lap, adjusting yourself to sit on his thighs. He gives you a look of confusion, but you just lace your fingers with his before taking a deep breath. "I'm saying that I'm a coward." You admit with a mutter, not able to look him in the eyes as you blink back the sting of tears. "I'm saying that…I want to, you know. I want to be brave, I want to tell my parents that I'm not their puppet, I want to pursue my own dreams." "What's stopping you?" He murmurs, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. "Fear." You sigh. "Fear of failing. Fear of…not being good enough." "Good enough for what? You're smart, you're passionate. You love this." He gestures at the sky, and you look into his eyes, his face blurry behind tears as you whisper just loud enough for him to hear you. "Good enough for you."

He sighs at this, reaching his fingers up to wipe at a few fallen tears. "There is another story in your legend, but in Greek mythology." Your head tilts to the side, and he smiles. "Lyra, means lyre. Orpheus was a musician in mythology, and a renowned poet. He even went down to Hades' hell to try and save his wife." "Eurydice." You murmur, and he nods. "He loved her more than anything, alongside his music. The story of how Lyra came to be, is that Eurydice died. She was bitten by a venomous snake and had long died by the time Orpheus found her. He was so heartbroken, he played the saddest melodies known to man and it affected everyone else just as much as it did him. He loved her so much, he went to the depths of Hades' hell to beg for her back, to live her full life, to enjoy her time."

He scans your face, feeling your fingers trace shapes into his abdomen. "Hades broke the rule, one time. He sympathized with Orpheus, and since they were both mortals, he knew they'd eventually return to him once their lives were over. The catch?" He took a piece of your hair between his fingers, twirling it through nimble fingers.

"Eurydice had to follow him out, and he wasn't allowed to look back at her until they got back to Earth, lest he'd send her right back." He said with a hum, watching as your lips pursed in discontent. "He turned back, didn't he?" "He feared she'd get lost in the dark. Just before they got back, just before they made it, he looked back and the gates to Hades' darkness were shut. He wept for her, for seven days and seven nights outside of those gates, but he never saw her again." He sighed, tucking the strand of hair behind your ear. "He was beaten to death by drunk women four years later, during a celebration for Dionysus. He never moved on, and was deemed a woman hater because he consistently rejected any and every woman for his Eurydice. His lyre was thrown in the river, and Zeus sent an eagle for it. That's how you got Lyra." 

Pointing at the sky, the two of you watch how the sky slowly turns. 

Without looking back at him, you whisper, "What are you saying?" "I'm saying…I don't want you to be Eurydice. Lost forever because I can't let you go." He splays his large hands across your thighs, the cold of his fingertips making you look back down at him. "But, I know that Orpheus and Eurydice deserved a happy ending. And I know that three weeks is a very short time to get to know someone, but I think…I know you better than almost anyone in your life." You stifle a laugh, nodding. "Nobody knows me like you, Joshua. Saerom doesn't even know I'm a double major." "Bad girl, very bad." He scolds you teasingly, before his thumbs press lightly into your thighs. "I want you to be happy. And if it means that this…whatever, we are…is a secret for a while, I'm okay with that." He shrugs, and you glance down at him.

"You know you deserve better, right?" You murmur, and he sighs. "It's either you or that lunch lady from my freshman year that's been after me for ages. Please, please save me." His tone is joking, but the look in his eyes is serious, solemn.

"Are you sure?" Your thumb pads his slight under eye bags, and he leans into it. "Yes, but don't give in to me so easily. I like the little mind games you play."

Snorting, you flick his nose gently. "What, so you want me to keep being defiant?"

"It's kind of hot." He crinkles his nose at the admission, and you let out a laugh. A genuine laugh, unlike your normal ones. "You're so…" He trails off, tilting his head to the side before sighing.

"I'm so what? Annoying? Stubborn? A snotty-nosed brat?" You prod, and he just smiles. "Yes, all of that. But…I don't know. You're so…easy to love."

"You…love me?" The confusion in your voice makes his chest ache. "I can't, uhm, I can't say I'm super well versed in the topic." He clears his throat, seeing your eyes become slightly glossy. "I just…I know that you feel right. I know that seeing you makes me less stressed. Nobody has been able to pull me away from my desk all week, Cheol had to physically drag me out earlier to eat something. I keep thinking back to our first night together, because the stress of some deadlines I have coming up is just driving me mad. But closing my eyes and just thinking about you, and knowing that you're not really this person you've painted for ages, I know. I think I feel closer to you, knowing that you've confided in me to keep this secret of yours, and I'm honored. I want to make you feel…wanted, needed. I want you to know that you are so much more than 'good enough.' If anything, I will never be enough for you, and I could spend the rest of my life working to earn you and your love." You're silent for a moment, taking in his words as your hands ghost over his. You give him a small smile, toying with the ring on his finger. "I should get you home." You murmur, and he smiles as he straightens, placing his hands on your back so you don't topple. "Anywhere you are is home, Y/N."

You don't respond, choosing to give him a chaste kiss. "We really need to get you home, I have to check on Chan." You speak against his lips, and he nods. "Fine, fine." The two of you get up, and Joshua files your lack of response into the back of his mind. Was it too much? Did he cross a line? 

The walk is quiet, but you're holding his hand tighter than you had on the stroll earlier. You're holding him closer, even holding onto his arm with your opposite hand and resting your head slightly on his shoulder. When you reach the frat, he unlocks the door to see Seungcheol and Jeonghan debriefing about Jeonghan's date on the couch. Jeonghan almost calls him over when he sees you float in after him, a loud whoo! from his mouth.

"Shut up!" You groan, gesturing up the stairs. "Chan is sleeping!" "Woo!" Jeonghan cheers again, albeit quieter, and you roll your eyes. Joshua takes your sweater off your shoulders, and you allow him to do so as he hangs them on the rack by the door. "How was your date, Jeonghan?" "Good! She was very sweet, good taste in music." He smiles softly, before glancing between you and Joshua. "Did you…talk?" He clears his throat, and you feel Joshua's hand on your back, his eyes looking up the stairs.

"We can debrief what happened between us…at a later date." You smile, and Jeonghan gives you a knowing look. Seungcheol sips his beer with a smirk, shaking his head as the two of you climb the stairs gingerly. "Check on Chan." Joshua whispers, kissing the back of your neck before turning to his room.

Knocking gently, you open the door to see Haerim watching him carefully. She's holding the thermometer in her hand, shaking it as she sighs. She doesn't startle when she sees you, a warm smile on her face as she holds it up. "Still mild fever." "No vomit, right?" You ask, closing the door behind you. She shakes her head, pointing at the empty stew bowl she brought. "He practically inhaled it." "Traitor, he didn't want to eat the porridge I brought him." You scoff, and she laughs. "How was…you know." She gestures in the direction of Joshua's room, and you feel yourself get a little giddy. She notices the wry smile on your lips, giving your arm a soft smack before nagging you. "What happened!" "He likes me." You shrug, biting back your squeal as she bounces on her toes with a toothy grin. "He likes you?!"

"Yes!" You giggle, bouncing with her, and Chan groans behind the two of you. You both clench your teeth shut, lowering your voices. "I'll update you some other time, okay? I'll be at his beck and call, so don't worry about Chan." Haerim nods, not bothering to probe before she hikes her knapsack over her shoulder. She leans, pressing a soft kiss to Chan's hairline, telling him she's leaving. He nods weakly, squeezing her hand before she pulls away. "Should I get one of the guys to walk you home?" You ask, and she shakes her head. "My roommate's been waiting for ages for me to call her. I'll see you on Monday?"

She walks towards the stairs, and you nod. "See you, Haerim." 

"Chan, I'm going home. Call me, or have one of the guys call me if you need anything." You call into the room, and he groans in response. You snort, grabbing your purse off his desk and carefully shutting the door, sighing as you take a few steps down the hall to Joshua's room. You knock lightly, opening the door when you hear him hum.

He's sitting in front of his laptop again, a frustrated look on his face as he connects a soundboard to his laptop, before feeling your presence. You smile at him, arms crossed before you speak, perching on the edge of his desk. "I'm going home."

"I know, I asked Cheol to walk you because I really need to focus." He says, a bit of sadness peeking through. You nod, "Thank you." "Can you text me when you get home?" His question is more of a demand, but you can see he's not trying to push it. "Yes, sir." You push off the desk, reaching to wrap your arms around his neck as he leans into his computer.

"Don't work yourself too hard, lover." You whisper in his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple before feeling his hand on your wrist, twisting his head to look at you. There's a soft blush coating his cheeks. "What'd you say?" "I said I'm going home." You change your expression to a stoic one, and he almost chokes on his laugh. "I'll see you on Monday." 

"Yeah, for sure." He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze, "Let me walk you out, at least." "Don't kiss me in front of your friends." You warn, and he snorts. Standing, he watches as your arms drape to your sides before you clasp your hands in front of you before walking out into the hallway. You both barrel down the stairs, and hear Jeonghan whining over a bottle of tequila about his date. "She's so hot, Cheol, you don't get it." "I get it, I get it." Seungcheol replies distractedly, his eyes flickering up to you and Joshua reaching the foyer. "Ready to go, Y/N?" He stands, going to the closet to rummage for a jacket. "Yeah, thanks for doing this." You smile sheepishly, and Jeonghan looks up. "Oh, you're going home?" "Yeah, Chan's sleeping and…" You clear your throat, giving Joshua a quick glance. He catches on, "I'm busy. Doing shit. Important, you know."

"Tell us more about how you wouldn't be able to control yourselves, why don't you?" Jeonghan grimaces, and you snort. "This is why you're here, yearning for your date instead of being back at her apartment." "The hell is that supposed to mean!" He pouts, and Joshua snorts as he helps you pull your jacket on. "It means you're a bitch, Han."

"Don't make me tell Y/N all your dirty little secrets, Hong." Jeonghan tilts the shot glass in his direction, making you go wide eyed as Seungcheol returns, a blue and white varsity jacket draped over his shoulders. "Alright, let's scoot. The night is young." He stretches, and you smile at Jeonghan.

"Hope you get the girl, Hannie." You say softly, and his eyes soften. "Thanks, Y/N." "Bye, Joshua." You murmur as Seungcheol steps outside, muttering about the cold under his breath. Joshua looks to Jeonghan, who has his eyes closed, before pulling you into him. "One for the road?" You roll your eyes, "One for the road."

Thursday, December 29th.

The past two months had been a mess. Your parents had continuously dropped by randomly (and they dropped by the night of the Beta Tau Halloween rager), making both you and Saerom annoyed. She'd recently started seeing Jun (which kind of makes you grateful you're not in the apartment for their study sessions, who knows what freak shit they're on) and neither of you could study or rest in peace without feeling like they'd drop by.

Missing the party was the least of your worries, because you knew Joshua wasn't going to be involved in it anyway. He sent you a text from his desk, his guitar needing to be restrung because he couldn't pull himself away from his work. You'd told him to go for a walk.

Message From: Joshua Hong (TA) [11/03] What use is a walk if you're not there to kiss my worries away? You hadn't replied, opting to choose to scream into your pillow like a giddy teenaged girl.

In this time, you'd also managed to sit Saerom down and really speak to her about yourself. You told her that you didn't feel like yourself, and when she asked why, you broke out a bottle of wine and the two of you broke down the last few years of your lives. You admitted that you didn't want any part of your family's business, and Saerom had only given you a softened look.

"Don't pity me, Rom. You know I hate that shit.""I don't, my love. I don't pity you at all."

You'd cried quite a bit, and she'd just watched quietly and wiped your tears as they came. She understood, and she voiced that she thinks she would also do the same – the lying, the escapism, the misunderstandings. She apologized, saying she was sorry that she ever made you feel like you couldn't confide in her – smiling slightly when you said that she was never the problem, it was knowing that you'd be admitting to failure. She understood that, too.

The apartment felt more homey after that – Saerom took the time to go out and buy a few things she thought you'd like – a few constellation posters, a Lego set for you to build together of the Milky Way. She built the astronaut and NASA shuttle herself, placing those in your room when you texted her a few days after she bought them saying you'd had a rough day. She heard you crying in your room, only entering to comfort you when she heard you call her name.

These weeks were also particularly difficult because you'd seen less and less of Joshua. You never considered yourself the clingy type, and the Beta Tau brothers were definitely becoming more familiar with you as the days passed. You saw Joshua outside of class maybe twice, and it was once during office hours and once by going to the house to check on Chan right after Joshua admitted his feelings for you. He'd gotten a lot better, but you'd picked up his assignments from classes you didn't share so he wouldn't fall behind. He'd asked you what was going on between you and Joshua, and you just shrugged.

"We're taking it slow."

"Please don't fuck while I'm still sick, I don't want to hear it."

You and Joshua seemed to have no plans of doing so, it seems. Your schedules did not line up, and you could see him become slightly more stressed every time you saw him. Your classmates noticed something different about him, and you and Haerim just giggled in the back when he'd steal a glance at you. She never said anything to anyone, either.

Once school let out for the winter break (and you disappointedly passed Spanish with a B minus), you did everything in your power to avoid going home. You told your parents any lie you could grapple at – Saerom was sick, you were sick and didn't want to get them sick.

The truth? You just wanted to ring in the New Year with your…boyfriend? You didn't know what the two of you were, and you weren't afraid to admit that to yourself. He was graduating soon, and possibly taking a gap year before continuing his studies. You knew this much through texts – the one thing the two of you did have time for. He sent you voice notes on his way to anywhere, he'd send you pictures of the night sky before going to bed – asking if you could point out any constellations for him. 

Message From: Shua <3 [11:32pm] Are you home? [11:33pm] Before you answer this, is Saerom home? I don't feel like explaining myself, I just want to lay the fuck down.

You snort at his message, giggling to yourself at his new contact name. You don't know if you'll ever get used to it.

Message To: Shua <3 [11:33pm] Saerom went home for the break. Something about introducing Jun to her mom.

His reply is almost instant. Message From: Shua <3 [11:34pm] Open the door, I'm freezing.

From your seat on the couch, you hear Joshua groan behind the door and you laugh. Tossing your phone to the side, you quickly get up and unlock the door. You see a pouty Joshua holding a bag of takeout, eyelashes lightly coated in snow as he enters the apartment. "You hate me." He whines, and you snort.

"I can make you go back out in the cold, if you'd like." You shrug, making him scoff as you carefully unravel his scarf. He closes his eyes as you take his jacket, and yank his beanie off his head with no care. "When do I get my kiss? I haven't seen you since finals, I deserve a kiss."

"It's like, twenty minutes until your birthday. You can't wait?" You roll your eyes, feeling a ball of fabric hit your back. You look down to see his pink glove on the floor, making you scoff out a laugh. "Now you're definitely not getting a kiss." "Oh my Goooood, you hate me!" He pouts, grabbing your arm and pulling you close to him. You shake your head, gently nuzzling your nose to his cold one. "Not one bit." You still hadn't told Joshua you loved him. Granted, the two of you were not dating and hadn't properly seen each other in literal ages – as much as 'ages' can be for two idiots in love. 

"Why are you dressed like this? And why have I never been here before? This place is cool." He looks around, spotting the astronomy figurines Saerom had started getting for you, the walls covered in photos of you together and he spots the photo of you and your parents gathering dust on one of the shelves. He doesn't mention it.

"Dressed like what? My pajamas?" You look down, and he tugs at the seam of your shorts. "Rather…provocative." "Shut the fuck up, it's almost bed time." You roll your eyes, swatting his hand away from the bare skin of your thighs. He smiles amusedly, planting a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, before peppering them all over your face. His lips meet yours lightly, a chaste taste of his strawberry lip balm lingering on your plush lips as he pulls away.

"The bag is just mochi. I already had dinner." He says sheepishly, and you shrug. "I did, too. To be honest, I wasn't expecting company." "I didn't think you'd stayed on campus." He nods, and you sigh with a sad smile. "Don't wanna see my parents." "Right. How's that going?" He asks, pulling you to the couch with one hand. You let him lay down, pulling you on top of him. Your knees hug his hips as you straddle him, his hands resting high on your thighs. "It's…going. I should call them, but I really don't want to–" You hear the doorknob wiggle, tensing in Joshua's hold as you turn. The lock turns, and your muttered whisper of fuck makes all the alarms in Joshua's mind go off. You climb off of him as the door is pushed open, and you can feel your skin heat in embarrassment as your mother scoffs, stepping into the apartment. Joshua carefully slides off the couch, stepping next to you.

"Jesus, she keeps this place a mess." She groans, looking at the bag of takeout on your dinner table. She hasn't seen you yet, placing her giant designer bag on a chair as your father comes in behind her. "All you do is judge the girl, no wonder she doesn't want to come home." He rolls his eyes, but they land on you – standing with beet red cheeks and an equally embarrassed Joshua by your side. Your father's eyes dart to the link between you – Joshua's hand gingerly interlocking your fingers. You don't speak, and he looks at Joshua's eyes filled with slight worry.

"Can you go get her? She's probably holed up in her room, looking at those stupid mo– Who the fuck are you?" Your mother has turned now, her narrowed eyes on Joshua before landing on you. "Who the fuck is that? You said you were sick, and you have company over?" Your throat is dry, and you feel frozen when Joshua steps in front of you, shielding you from your parents' view. "You must be Y/N's parents. I've heard a lot about you, I'm Joshua."

He extends his hand, and your father eyes it before taking it, shaking it firmly. "Nice grip you got there, son." Your mother scoffs, tugging her scarf off her neck with a visceral anger. Joshua can feel you cower behind him, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt. "Joshua what? What do you do for a living?" He clears his throat, watching as your mother walks around the apartment without taking her shoes off, taking down stuff from the walls. "Joshua Hong. I'm a producer." He lies through his teeth, and your mother scowls as she sees the Lego version of the Milky Way hung right by your bathroom. She takes it down, tossing it carelessly on the couch.

"A producer? You won't make much money." 

"That's enough." Your father speaks up, and sees you peer at him from behind Joshua. "What are you to Y/N? Boyfriend?" "Not allowed!" Your mother announces, her hands now occupied by your opened mail. Bills, bills, a credit card statement, bills…and your summer internship at the Korea Astronomy and Space Institute.

"I am…her boyfriend." Joshua whispers, losing a bit of confidence as your mother angrily walks back to your foyer. "What's this?" She holds the acceptance letter up, your eyes shutting closed as you see it in her hand. "Fuck." You murmur behind Joshua, and your mother begins to read it aloud.

"Esteemed Miss Kang, it is with great pride that we award you with the July KASI internship studying plasma physics." She crumples the paper slightly in her fist, and your father pries it from her hold as you step out from behind Joshua, and she really lays it on you.

"We told you from the start that these silly little dreams about space and stars were not going to happen. You are the sole heir to the companies, the properties, you have to continue the family business. Don't you care about that? Don't you care about paying us back for everything we've given you, and continue to supply you with? Don't you get that this is not an option?" She's not yelling, but her words cut deep as you nod slowly, the words tumbling out before you can stop to think about them properly. "I don't care." Your mother looks taken aback, and you feel your stomach flip as you clear your throat. "I don't care about properties, or companies. I don't care about money, or marrying for wealth. I…" You breathe in shakily, and Joshua instinctively puts his hands on your shoulders, an act not unseen by your mother's beady eyes.

"I don't care about being part of a family that is fueled by greed. I can't do it anymore. I hope that…you find another fit." The last part comes out as a bit of a sob, and you cover your mouth quickly. Your mother is fuming, and she turns to your father, who is silently reading the letter in his hands.

"I didn't know you liked plasma physics." He murmurs, and you feel Joshua's fingers squeeze your shoulders lightly. "I didn't even know what you were studying, if I'm being honest." Your father admits sheepishly, smoothing the crumpled edge of the sheet carefully. 

"This is a very hard program to get into. I would know," Your father holds the letter out to you, and you reach to take it, holding the corner gingerly in your fingers. "You would know?" Joshua echoes, and your father nods.

"I applied. I got the June internship for aerospace engineering, my best friend was so jealous." You don't know the last time you saw your father smile. "I'm…proud of you. I know it's a little late in saying that, I've been quite the absent father.I guess, I can't even really say father."

Your mother is tapping her foot, garnering your attention again. "Whatever rebel strike you're on isn't cute, Y/N. I've got investors waiting to meet you, wanting to draw up contracts, to build new properties with your name across the front." Your father sighs, shaking his head as he looks at the two of you again. "Joshua, could you give us a moment?" 

You turn to look at him, your eyes pleading him not to leave. He gives you a sorry smile, squeezing your shoulders before kissing your hairline. "I'll be in your room." He murmurs, and you nod, watching as he walks away, slipping into the only open door in the hallway. He shuts it behind him. 

Your father sighs, leaning against the door frame. "Your mother and I are getting a divorce."

You can feel your eyes widen as far as they go, your mother flushing furiously. "Can I ask why?" "It's none of your business." She grits, and your father scoffs. "I'm selling the company. I'm tired, Y/N. Being in business is not what I want to do." He shakes his head, and you try to bite back a smile.

"It's not?"

"No. I'm donating the money to the Aerospace Engineering program here, actually." He gestures around you, indicating the University. You feel your lips tug into a smile, your father's warm eyes matching yours. "I don't understand why you can't just leave the company in Y/N's name so she can take over when we're both dead and gone. At least it sets up a stable future for her!" "She won't be happy, Bora! That's why I can't do that. Nothing in this life means anything if we're not happy." He groans frustratedly, and you feel almost taken aback by your father's words. He'd always been a silent man – a bit cold, with two friends and love for one thing: baseball. 

And space, you now know.

"This is fucking ridiculous. I cannot leave my investors hanging, and I refuse to hand over my properties to someone I don't even know!" Your mother is exasperated, and you almost want to laugh at how you and your father shrug simultaneously. 

"Whatever." She grumbles, snatching her purse off the chair, pulling it over her shoulder. She gives you a nasty look, "I assume this means you will also bail on meeting the Mins' youngest son? Yoongi has been waiting to meet you." 

"Yoongi can shove it." You shrug, and she just shakes her head in disappointment – but for once…you don't care. She slams out of your apartment, her scarf flung over the back of your couch. Your father gives you a gentle smile, and you return it. 

"I'm sorry for not being a better father to you, Y/N. I should have tried harder." He laments, and you see his eyes begin to gloss over with tears. You step forward, enveloping him in a loose hug. "I think…standing up for me and what you believe in, is a step in the right direction. I haven't been a very present daughter, either."

He laughs shakily, giving you a tight squeeze. "How about you and I get dinner in the next few days? You can even bring Joshua, I kind of like that kid." He mumbles, and you feel your stomach flutter at the mention of your…boyfriend's name. "I'll check our calendars and shoot you a text, okay?" "For sure, kid." He pulls away, softly patting your head. "I'll see you, okay?" "Yeah. See you." You nod, opening the door for him. He leaves with another word, your mother's scarf in his hand as he exits your apartment. You feel a wave of relief wash over you, but bite back your tears as you lock the door and march to your bedroom. Opening the door, you see Joshua flopped diagonally across your bed, phone in his hand.

It's twenty minutes past midnight, and the date reads December 30th.

"Hey, you." He looks over his shoulder, and watches as you pin the acceptance letter to the corkboard above your dresser. You put your hands on your hips, staring at it with a bit more content in your heart. 

"Hey, boyfriend." You say, turning to face him. His ears turn pink, and he sits up. "It just came out, okay? I'm sorry, I know I haven't even taken you out to dinner or anything but I really, really–" You crash your lips to his, pushing him back onto your bed as you straddle him. "Yeah, yeah. No need for explanations." You peel your shirt off, tossing it to the side as he looks at you with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Happy birthday, lover."

Saturday, May 6th.

"Joshua Hong." 

You cheer loudly from the stands as he crosses the stage, watching his cheeks tinge pink as he hears you over the clapping and yelling from his fraternity. He smiles as the photographer takes his picture, before looking up at the stands to find you. You wave excitedly, and his eyes brighten all the more. I love you, he mouths.

I'm proud of you, you mouth back. Wimp.

– ☆ –

"Hey, gorgeous. You a tourist?" You're standing at the bar of the same salsa club you and Joshua danced at last summer when you hear Joshua's voice behind you, and you struggle not to roll your eyes. The two of you only stayed at the graduation long enough to watch Jeonghan cross the stage, before Cheol texted the group and said he was sneaking out. 

The three of them had booked a last-minute trip…back to Puerto Vallarta.

"The city where you fell in love!" Cheol teased as the group loaded into the car, with you sitting on Joshua's lap in the backseat. Saerom was sitting next to you, and Junhui was giggling at the redness of your cheeks as the pair of douchebags teased you to no end. It didn't matter though – you felt Joshua smile into your shoulder as the group pulled into the airport.

"Yeah, I am. Are you?" You played his game, waiting until he finally came into your line of vision with the same baby blue guayabera you first saw him in. Your stomach flutters lightly as his hand ghosts your back. "Nah, I've been here before. Got my heart broken by a cute thing, she looked a little like you." "Alright, that's enough roleplay you weirdo." You scoff, shoving his hand away from you as he laughed, He stepped slightly closer, ignoring your faux annoyance. "Right, right…I know some cool places here, if you'd care to join me." His eyes twinkle something mischievous as the bartender slides you your drink. You take it with a thank you, before sighing and linking your arm with Joshua's. "Do you, now?" "I do. There's some pretty hammocks down the beach, you can see all the stars right now." He glances up at the sky as the two of you leave the club, your shoes clutched in his hand as your toes sink into the warm sand. You smile up at him, "What do you know about stars?" "Someone very special once told me a story about two lovers who couldn't be…and they reside in these very stars." He points at the sky, and you nod. "You know, I once heard a story like that, but they were involved in Greek mythology." You stare up at the sky, when you reach the hammock the two of you shared that first night.

"Really? Was it about Orpheus and Eurydice? I love that one." He smiles as he helps you on, fixing the skirt of your dress to cover your legs more. "Your star-crossed lovers, were they Altair and Vega?"

"So you do know stars." He slides in, and you rest your head on his chest. "I do. Love them, actually." "You're my brightest star." He murmurs, kissing your forehead lightly as his hand maps out the Lyra constellation. "It's so pretty, isn't it?" Looking back down at you, he sees the gloss over your eyes and sits up. "Babe! Don't cry, oh my God–" "I love you." You blurt, watching as his brows raise, his ears tinging pink in the low light of the moon. He lays back down slowly, and you scrunch your face before sitting up and looking down at him. "Hello? Big moment here, asswipe?" "Just a second." He smiles painfully, and your brows only furrow more. "What the hell is wrong with you?" 

"I'm hard." He whispers, making you glance down. "Don't look at it! What's wrong with you!" He pouts as you burst into laughter, your hand resting on his stomach as you muffle your laughter with his shoulder.  "It's not funny."

"You're such a LOSER!"

Pulling back, you wipe at your eyes, catching your breath.

"But you love me too, right?" You ask, peering down at him as he rolls his eyes, smiling widely. He brings you closer to him, his lips ghosting over yours as he speaks softly.

"I love you so much, I'd bring down the stars if you asked me to."

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Six

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Oral (f & brief male receiving), barn sex yeehaw, PIV (no protection), praise, I love gaz sm he’s so fucking sexy and hot, titty sucking, more hickies!!!!

Masterlist

Your brow cocked towards the Scotsman, his arms folded against the width of his chest as he stared at you, Arctic blue orbs swirling with mischief as he stepped closer to you, chapped lips flushed against the heat of your forehead before he was strumming upstairs.

The day was sombre. The sky was roiling, a pall of menacing clouds enveloping the forest with a darkened haze, the soft jingles of the wind chimes sounding out to you as you rushed the horses into the barn, snouts whining and hissing out breathy grunts as a roll of thunder cracked through.

Bubbling heat simmered in the pit of your stomach; your body flushed with fervour as you scurried outside, your legs turning to mush as anxious feet padded against the soil, parched digits digging into reins. Your body ached with a needing demand, a need to be satisfied, not only by Price but by them all.

It was taboo. It should feel wrong. This wasn’t you. The growing ache that seethed between your thighs, only fed into the perpetual insistence that needed to be met. You needed to be fucked. Again, and again and again.

You rolled your eyes at yourself, the flush of iris visible as you trembled into the barn, pulling on Nancy as she trotted along, heavy hoofs skating across the already dirtied floors. As you secured the horses away, your eyes trained in on the door, the sound of heavy footsteps coiling into your stomach before Gaz appeared.

You weren’t quite sure what it was about him. He gave you a sense of comfort, his eyes gentle yet zealous, speckles of gold flaking through the endless diversions of umber. His presence was homely, settling around you like a forest fire, fusillading the anguished need you held for him. His smile was soft as he gazed at you, standing bashfully at the barn doors, chiselled arms pressed against the wood.

“Thought I would find you here,” he remarked, taking a step forward as he felt the spit of rain pellet down on his warm skin.

You raised a brow, “You looking for me?” Your tone was knowing, almost teasing as he let out a shy laugh, pearly teeth on display as his tongue kissed them, the simmer of the light reflecting against them. He was pretty, almost too pretty, the arrogant broil of his eyes sending a pit into your stomach as he stepped closer.

“Just felt like we, I, haven’t thanked you properly.”

“It’s alright, Gaz. Couldn’t exactly turn you all away, could I?” You tried to make light of the situation, your eyes averting to the floor as you shifted awkwardly.

“You gonna let me thank you, sweetheart? Hm?”

Your feet were clumsy, as you stumbled back, spine flush against a bale of hay as he stalked towards you. You felt like his prey, tantalising jaws snapping down on the silk of your flesh as he sucked the sweet liquor of your blood into his taste buds. Cadaverous hands groped at your thigh, melting the softness of the fat into his hands as he practically cooed at you.

His voice was patronising, threads of disdain lacing it as his grip found your knees, pulling them apart gently. Straw scratched at your legs, sending a jolt through you as you watched him through hooded eyes. His eyes were darker now, flushed over with desire as he pushed his crotch up against you, an evident bulge covered by denim petting your clad heat almost maliciously as you gulped down the air that flooded your organs.

Nails dug into your tender skin, crescent-shaped moons tattooing along the flesh as you whined. “I asked you a question,” he tsked, kissing along your jaw.

“Y-Yeah, you can thank me.”

The strain of your voice enveloped a laugh out of him, rough hands toying with your top before you lifted your arms up, bare chest on display as the cool air puckered up your nipples, his eyes darting between the two before his hands were wrapping around your neck, pushing against you slightly to arch your back before feverish lips were tugging at the buds, teasing them between his teeth before he would pull away and suck at the sore skin, tainted by hickies.

“Old man wanted to mark you up,” he growled as his hands released from your neck, toying with your tits as your core ached. The sensation was all too much, yet not enough. Greedy hips ground against the bulge that was pressed against you, a groan sounding out from between your tits.

“Are you gonna thank me?” You quipped, pulling at his hair as he clutched a nipple between his lips before pulling away with a subtle pop.

“Greedy, aren’t you?  Just need to be filled up by us all?” Gaz smirked.

Your hips responded for you, pussy clenching around nothing as you panted, your breath wanton. His digits found your buttons, plucking at them before you raised yourself, letting him slide them off down you revealing your aching sex, thin cotton smeared against it as your slick darkened them. Gaz groaned in reply, rubbing at the wet patch feverishly as your lips found his neck, licking a stripe against his defined collarbone.

You swore, your voice lost in the crackle of the wind as he peeled your panties to the side, your aching cunt throbbing as he spread your folds apart, smiling in appreciation at the sloppy strings of slick webbing between your lips.

“Pretty fucking pussy,” he nodded as he pushed you back, throwing your legs over his shoulders as a rough thumb pressed against your clit, almost unsure if he wanted to use his fingers or mouth before he settled for both, his wet muscle toying with your entrance before plunging in, enveloping your gummy walls with his spit as his digit engulfed harsh circles around the sensitive nub.

Needy moans left your throat as you palmed at the hay below you, another hand buried in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as your pussy rode along his tongue, chasing a desperate release.

His touch was electric, spreading zaps of energy throughout you, engulfing your spine as your back arched further at the torment of his tongue, his laps gargling against your slick as he teased you.

Feverish hands wrapped around the fat of your thighs, bruising touches doubling every sensation you felt as you mewled against him, bucking your hips as you chased your high.

Teeth grazed against your throbbing clit, the sensation almost overwhelming as you gasped out, full lips sucking the bud as you convulsed, the air thick with arousal as the breathy sounds of your moans sipped through the holes of the barn walls.

Rain slashed against the roof as you threw your head back, Gaz’s torture against your pussy stimulating every nerve in your cunt as you choked out, gasping for oxygen as you found yourself holding your breath, too focused on the pleasure he was wracking through you.

His assault was continuous, his muscle lapping at your heat, slick pooling below you as fingers tightened against the straw, scratching against your palm.

“Oh - fuck,” you whined, your voice raising an octave as pleasure coiled in your stomach, spindling through every muscle and nerve as your legs convulsed, your belly tightening until it snapped, sending your eyes rolling back as you clutched onto the bale below you, Gaz’s mouth moaning against your slit as you cried out.

Your actions were clumsy as you pushed his face away at the overstimulation, your clit swollen as you took in his pussy-drunk expression, full lips glistening with your arousal, a trail of spit dribbling down his chin as he smiled at you.

“Please fuck me,” you quipped, clutching onto his shoulder before a hand gripped at the tent in his pants, palming the aching member with need as he growled against your neck, nipping the tender flesh before his hands were at his belt.

Gaz nodded as you pulled him in roughly, your tongues lashing against each other as you hummed at the taste of yourself, the tangy feeling melting between your saliva as the Sergeant tore his slacks down his muscled thighs.

You broke the kiss, looking down at his member. He was longer than John with less girth, yet still staggering in size, the mushroom tip flushed a begging purple as silk pearls of pre-cum coiled down his aching length.

Needy hips aligned with yours as he flushed the tip against your folds, smirking at the gooey sounds of your wetness. You whined in anguish. You felt like you were in heat, your body craving your womb to be filled.

The burn stretched through you, your brows furrowing in pain as you pushed against his chest before his hands were against yours, soothing you as he kissed you, setting a bruising pace between your lips, his cock working through you inch by inch as you gasped.

“That’s it baby, relax for me. Good girl.”

His tone was soft as he praised you, working through the tightness of your gummy walls with ease before he bottomed out, heavy balls slapping against the crevice of your ass as your neck buried in the crook of his neck.

“Please, I need you,” you whimpered, lips nibbling at his neck, savouring the salty taste of his sweat before he chuckled, his hips bucking against your sweet spot, his tip kissing your cervix deliciously as he began to rock inside you, setting a slow pace as he felt every ridge against his cock.

His tongue was filthy as he spat out expletives, his pace quickening with every fleeting second as you bashfully choked out whines and moans into his skin.

“Taking me so fucking well, Jesus Christ.”

His strokes were brutal, rubbing against your cervix selfishly as your mouth sounded out babbles, your eyes rolled back as you felt the trickle of sweat pooling at the back of your knees.

The pleasure was white hot, engulfing you with demand as you submitted your entirety to him, falling limp as his hips slapped against your sensitive skin, his fingers tugging at your nipples through your slouched figure as you moaned.

His pace fastened once more before he grunted, pulling out as his cock pulsated with the need to cum. Your motions were sloppy as you gripped the shaft, knees buckling as you lifted yourself to the floor, his member coated with your slick as you hummed at the taste, tracing the veins with your tongue whilst another hand cupped his heavy balls, squeezing them with a gentle motion before gargling the remainder of his cock down the pillow of your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” he bucked, hips moving rhythmically before he spluttered out, his cum gushing down the naval of your throat as you coughed, swallowing down the thick liquid with a huff as the remainder dribbled out of your lip.

Gaz’s hand found your hair, stroking the sweat along your forehead as he pulled you up, resting you along the hay again before dressing you slightly, as well as himself, before tugging you into the plushness of his chest, lazy legs wrapping around his waist before he was jogging with you through the downpour of the rain.

Holy fuck balls I feel like my writing has gotten so SLACK!!!!!

[humanpurposes]

August

Part 1: Possibilities and Peace Offerings

Your family has been invited to spend August at Dragonstone, where things get a little tense after an unfortunate first encounter with Aemond Targaryen, one he's determined to put right.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

Warnings: 18+, nothing too bad here, eventual smut, slight enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Words: 7k

A/n: Summer romance is here!! hope you likeeee. This is going to be three parts in total.

The impending summer exists beyond time, beyond the rest of the world. Exams are over and you’ve already received a mark for your dissertation. The dorm room you called home for three years is packed up and returned to its prison-like appearance, just as it was when you were an eager and excitable fresher. Suddenly the world is an endless sea of possibilities and you’re standing on the water’s edge with nothing to lose.

You spend a few weeks with your friends, drinking in pub gardens and driving down to the rammed beaches along the coast near King’s Landing, but this summer of possibility takes an unexpected turn when your father receives an invitation to spend the month of August at Dragonstone, as a guest of Viserys Targaryen. Viserys and your father have been business partners for just under a decade, but to be welcomed into his inner circle, to the ancestral home of the Targaryen family, is another honour altogether. 

Your parents are beside themselves with excitement. You’re a little more sceptical but you won’t let them know it. So once your uni friends have gone back to their hometowns, you pack an array of swimsuits and summer dresses into a suitcase, and bundle into the backseat of your father’s car. 

The aircon is on full blast. You sip on the last of your water as an 80s playlist blares through your headphones to block out the conversation of investments, clients, lawsuits and legal fees from the front seats.

Dragonstone is three things; an island, a town, and a castle. You drive out of the city, red and grey buildings blurring into greenery and vast spaces of blue, the sky and the sea. A ferry takes you from the mainland to the island’s port. The song you were listening to fades away as you slip your headphones off your ears. The town is utterly charming, from the rows of fishing boats in the harbour to the cobbled streets and obscure little buildings, bookshops, bakeries and butchers. The sun shines brightly, heat pulses through the window even with the blast of cool air.

A few more miles and you reach a gatehouse, ancient stone walls smothered with ivy, guarded by two stone creatures with their jaws wide open— dragons with spikes and sharp teeth. The driveway is lined with thick trees and foliage. Suddenly you turn a corner and there it is, towers and turrets reaching up into the summer sky, hundreds of windows, more carvings of dragons looming proudly over where Blackwater Bay becomes the Narrow Sea. 

The man who greets you by the doors is not a Targaryen. He has dark hair, dark eyes, a crisp white shirt and a radio on his belt. Your father seems to know him already. He greets him as “Cole,” and introduces him to you and your mother.

Cole offers his hand to you. “Criston,” he insists, “I’m the head of Mr Targaryen’s security.”

Two identical butlers take your bags from the car while Criston shows you into the entrance hall. He comments on the antiques and the 14th century timbers, leading you through to the room he calls “the waiting chamber”. It has high ceilings, wood panelled walls, an enormous fireplace and aged but comfortable looking leather sofas at the edges of the room. You note the portraits on the walls, the more recent photographs on the mantle, but before you can get a proper look, someone announces their own arrival into the room.

Viserys Targaryen has his arms open, dressed far more casually than you’ve seen him at various galas and events, he even has a pair of aviators keeping his silver hair out of his face. He greets your father with a smile and a firm handshake, his eyes sharp but somewhat hollow. 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he says, moving onto your mother and then to you. “We’re having drinks on the patio, enjoying the sun. Why don’t you join us?” He chuckles and you don’t really understand why. You’re not sure how any of this works.

Viserys leads you through the house, stopping by the great hall and the library, pointing out details like Criston did. His home is devoted to family and every furnishing carries some sentimental value. The curtains and the sofas in the library are Arryn blue for his first wife, the shelves are laden with books that belonged to his grandfather. There are items here which have belonged to the Targaryens for generations and their house’s sigil is carved into the walls and wooden beams. 

At last you come to a hall with tall windows, glass chandeliers and marble floors. Viserys calls this “the west gallery”, a more modern addition to the castle, built in the 17th century. He opens a double glass door and you can already see the sprawling green gardens, the unnatural blue of a swimming pool somewhere in the distance. Before all that is the raised patio, an array of chairs and the people sitting in them.

You step into the heat of the garden, into cigarette smoke and the sounds of laughter, loud and seemingly rehearsed. Your father knows most of these people, other associates of Targ Corp, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Rhaenys Tagraryen, Jason Lannister and his wife Joanna, Lyonel Strong and his son Larys. Even Otto Hightower is lounging back in his chair, sunglasses over his eyes, a pale pink cocktail in a crystal glass. 

Your parents smile graciously, your mother clutching her handbag over her shoulder, your father wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to air out the damp patches in his shirt. They’ll want to make a good impression. Each person staying at Dragonstone this summer is another opportunity for your father.

You glance down at your denim shorts and your sandals— an outfit for comfort, not for networking.

Viserys directs the three of you to a cushioned wooden bench and you squeeze in beside your mother. Another butler appears and offers you all a drink. Your parents both ask for a gin and tonic. You’re thinking that you’d like to dunk yourself in the pool, so you ask for a large glass of water. 

“With ice and lemon, miss?”

“Yeah, please, if you have it?”

Your mother nudges you with her elbow and whispers in your ear. “This is Dragonstone, if you want it they probably have it.”

“If I asked for the Prince of Pentos’ phone number, do you think they’d bring it out on a silver tray?” You return with a grin.

The minutes drag by. Lyonel Strong asks your father about his law practice. Corlys Velaryon and Jason Lannister enter a heated discussion about yachts. Otto Hightower mentions the name “Daemon” and the other voices go quiet. You take large gulps of your water, occasionally sharing silent looks with your mother.

The heat is sweltering. You feel your head pulsing, your skin becoming damp and you worry you may end up as a puddle on the patio if you don’t find a reason to escape soon.

The glass doors open and two women enter the garden, one with auburn hair, dressed in a floral dress and high heels. The other, younger, blonde hair cut into a fashionably short fringe, barefoot, dressed in denim shorts and baggy t-shirt, goes straight to Otto. She doesn’t look at anyone else. She stands behind Otto and leans down to wrap her arms around his neck. This must be Alicent Hightower and her daughter.

Alicent makes her rounds elegantly. She’s familiar with all the people present, except for the three of you, the outsiders, piled onto a single piece of garden furniture. Her eyes are wide and brown, her lips full and fallen slightly even when she smiles. She asks about the journey from King’s Landing, if you’ve had a chance to explore the town.

She asks you a lot of questions too, what you do, where you studied, what your plans are for the Autumn. And once she’s found out what she wants from you, she starts telling you everything about her children, unprompted.

“Helaena’s starting a PhD in a few weeks, staying in King’s Landing– King’s college, of course, not KLU, seven heavens. We didn’t want her to be too far away from home,” she says, looking back at her daughter and her father. “Etymology. Well, she’s always had a thing for insects, I could never understand it, but it’s easier to let her follow her interests, she’s that sort of girl.

“Now Aegon is like that too, he likes a lot of things, would be nice if he could be interested in something that makes him money. Oh well, he’s into the arts, fancies himself a photographer, directed a few plays at university– Oldtown. He wrote a screenplay, you must remind me to show you, it’s really quite clever. It’s about injustice or something like that.

“Daeron is at Oldtown too, at Citadel Boys. He’s the only child I sent to board, I just felt he might be happy with a bit of space from all of us. He wants to go to Oldtown like his brothers. His father wants him to do economics, but he’s very good at history.

“Aemond did history, but then he trained in accountancy. He’s worked all over, Oldtown, Storm’s End, Harrenhal, but he’s looking to stay in King’s Landing now–”

“Mum, you’ll bore her to tears,” Helaena says and it’s only now you notice that she’s moved to stand in front of you. 

Alicent frowns.

You stifle a smile and raise your brows hopefully.

“Do you know where you’re sleeping yet?” Helaena asks, looking at her mother.

“I’ve put her in the moat room,” Alicent says. She turns back to you, “I’m sorry, darling, you’re probably tired, aren’t you? Helaena can show you your room.”

You kiss your mother's cheek and agree to reconvene for dinner in the evening.

“Sorry about mum, she just jumps at the chance to talk about her kids,” Helaena says as you walk back through the west gallery.

“It’s sort of cute,” you say, staring up at the gold detailing on the ceiling. “Very informative.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says with a wicked smile.

When Helaena laughs she scrunches up her eyes and her nose. She sways her arms by her sides as she walks and trails her fingertips on the walls. Unlike Criston or Viserys, she doesn’t have little anecdotes about any of the vases or paintings on display. She’s a juxtaposition of her family’s ancestral home, airy and lighthearted, earthy and inexplicably real.

“Your parents are probably in the west wing,” she explains as you come to a winding stairwell. “That’s where everyone else will be too. The moat room is on the other side of the house.”

You nod along, stealing glances out the windows, at the gardens, and from higher up, you can see the sea.

“Don’t be too disheartened though,” Helaena says, “that means you’re with us.”

She shows you your room first. It sits at the very corner of the castle with windows to the north and the east. The moat in question isn’t a moat, it’s more of a well kept ditch. By the rest of the house you were half expecting the room to be medieval, but to your surprise it’s bright, carpeted, sans priceless antiques and heirlooms. A queen-sized bed waits for you piled with pillows. 

“I’m down the hall, and the boys are in the next corridor,” Helaena explains. “If you smell something suspicious, it’s Aegon.”

She helps you unpack your suitcase, admiring your swimsuits and looking through the small collection of books you’ve brought to pass the time.

She shows you her room which is further down the corridor. It’s much larger than yours, far more personal. She has worn patterned rugs over the wooden floors, dark blue wallpaper and accents of gold everywhere, the mirror over her vanity, the handles on the drawers and the wardrobe. You’re most intrigued by the framed taxidermies on the walls, butterflies with the most beautiful wings you’ve ever seen, moths, beetles, even a scorpion.

You’re a little relieved when you see a cat curled up on her bed, with a thick white coat, brown ears. 

“Dreamfyre,” Helaena says, scooping the cat up in her arms. “She’s named after the Valryian god of prophecy and wisdom.”

You hold your hand out for Dreamfyre to sniff. She considers you for a moment, and runs her head against your fingers. “So can she tell me my future?” you ask.

Helaena stares at you. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s a cat. Why, hoping for something in particular?”

“I like to see where life takes me,” you say.

After exchanging phone numbers and scrolling through each other’s Spotify playlists, Helaena tells you that she thinks the two of you are going to be friends.

Dinner is surprisingly more pleasant, where you all eat around a table on the patio. Being outside is far more bearable once the sun starts to set and a breeze sweeps in from the sea. You’re served white fish, potato salad coated in herbs which Alicent says she grows herself, summer vegetables, grilled courgettes, red and yellow peppers, sweet and tangy tomatoes, washed down with white wine.

You sit beside Helaena, opposite two of her brothers, Aegon and Daeron. Daeron is far taller than his older brother but his face is clearly younger. His pale blond hair is slightly overgrown, his nose a little pink and his skin freckled from being in the sun. “Aemond managed to beat me at tennis today,” he says.

Aegon rolls his eyes, far more concerned with scratching the ears of a golden labrador perched on the floor beside him.

You look to Helaena for an explanation.

“Daeron’s looking to go pro. Aemond can’t stand that he’s not the best at something.”

There’s an empty space at the head of the table, between Aegon and Helaena. You’ve yet to see any other evidence that the elusive middle brother exists.

“There’s a tennis court here?” You ask.

“Towards the water garden, you should be able to see it from the moat room.” Helaena says. “You should have a look.”

Dessert is pistachio ice-cream, then everyone starts to disperse. Aegon grabs a bottle of wine and he and Daeron traipse over to a firepit at the edge of the patio, followed by the labrador. Your parents follow Viserys and the others into the house. Corlys and Rhaenys linger at the table, staring up at the sky and taking long drags from their cigarettes.

You trail Helaena to a neatly kept kitchen. Some of the staff pass through, into a far larger back room with metal surfaces, where the real cooking is done. Criston sits at the kitchen island on a stool, eating a pasta salad from a glass bowl. Helaena pats his head as she passes him. He doesn’t seem surprised by it, perhaps it’s a common occurrence.

“Feel free to grab anything you want, by the way. There’s all sorts of snacks and stuff, and if you want more of something give Criston a shout,” Helaena says, picking out bags of chocolate buttons and sour sweets from a cupboard.

“That’s kind,” you say, twisting your fingers over each other in front of you. “I’m quite tired, I think I might just have a shower and go to bed.”

“Darling, it’s summer, you can do whatever you want,” Helaena says. “See you at breakfast, yeah?” She pulls you into a quick hug and disappears out into the garden.

Not wanting to linger when Criston’s phone starts to ring, you decide to brave it and find your way back to your bedroom. Aegon and Daeron seem like fun, maybe too much fun for tonight, you just need to sleep off the fatigue from the sun.

This place is far too big for you to feel settled just yet. It amazes you how everyone can navigate the castle so easily, it’s like a maze. Eventually you find your way back to the entrance hall. You think you might know the way to the east wing from here, but when you see the sky beyond the windows, lilac and orange, dotted with grey clouds and the first few stars of the evening, you want to make the most of the dying light. Maybe you could head towards the water garden and find the tennis court.

Your sandals crunch against the gravel which stretches out into paths leading in three directions. The central one leads to the driveway and the gatehouse. To the left is the gardens past the edge of the moat, and to the right is an outlook and a downhill path which disappears from sight, which you assume leads down to the sea. You can hear the waves in the distance.

The sunlight is fading fast. You cross your arms over yourself, shivering and regretting the lack of a cardigan. You tell yourself you might warm up with a bit of a walk.

You take a few paces down the path towards the gardens– a dog’s bark has your heart leaping out of your chest. It’s deep and loud, coming from behind you. Your head darts around. An enormous dog has emerged from the downhill path and is bounding towards you, covering ground quickly.

You keep your feet planted on the ground, out of fear

The dog, a great dane, stops before you— it truly is huge, its head would come up to your torso if you were close enough, and you don’t really want to find out– barking viciously. Its teeth flash, flecks of saliva dripping from its mouth.

“Back off! Come, Vhagar!”

You look back along the path. A man in a black t-shirt and black shorts is walking quickly towards you and the dog. He grabs it by its collar and yanks it back, fastening it on a leash.

His eyes dart up— eye, you realise. The right side is a bright blue, the left is clouded, framed by a scar slicing down from his brow to his cheek.

“Who are you?” He asks like an accusation.

You hesitate, your heart still racing in panic.

You say your first name, then your family name, at that the man tuts and raises himself to full height, keeping the great dane on a short leash. “Right. What are you doing out here?”

“Just… looking around.”

“Just looking around someone else’s house?”

Gods now you’re really starting to panic. He’s glaring at you as if it’s your fault his dog just made a break for you.

He huffs irritably through his nose. “Look, Vhagar’s not always friendly and especially not around strangers. Be careful, yeah?” 

Vhagar now seems content enough sitting by her owner’s side, wagging her tail and panting with her tongue out. Her grey coat is covered in sand, especially her paws and her nose.

“If your dog’s not always friendly why wasn’t she on a leash?” 

His face hardens. Frowning suits his sharp features and the intensity of his eye. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is my fucking house.”

That explains the blond hair, and you suppose now he has the same lanky look as Daeron and the same gauntness in his face as Aegon.

“Right, your dog could have just mauled me but thanks for the friendly reminder.” You turn towards the house and mutter loud enough for him to overhear, “prick.”

You can’t shake the frustration. Nothing takes the edge off, not the hot stream of water from the shower, the routine of your skincare or the feeling of sinking into an impossibly soft mattress. Dragonstone is perfect… and all you want to do is scream, just a little.

Breakfast is served in the morning room, next to the kitchen, according to the text you got from Helaena. You put a swimsuit on, a patterned one piece and pull on some shorts. Before you head downstairs you grab a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of suncream and a book, determined that your morning will be peaceful and idyllic.

People flitter into the morning room as they please. Helaena is still in her pyjamas, tucking into a bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Daeron comes in and starts eating toast off Alicent’s plate, having already run a casual 5k about the grounds.

The man from last night is hovering by a side table, placing sausages and bacon onto a small plate. He glances sideways at you as you enter. 

You keep your teeth pressed together as you reach for a plate and go for the platter of pastries, reaching for an almond croissant.

His elbow must be a few inches from yours. “Morning,” he mutters.

You were half expecting him to act like you don’t exist. “Morning,” you mumble back.

“Have you two already met?” Helaena asks loudly from the table.

“Briefly,” he says.

“And you didn’t actually tell me your name,” you say, adding some strawberries to your plate for good measure.

“The boy has no manners,” Daeron says in a mocking voice, earning him an exasperated chide from his mother. Helaena giggles to herself.

He faces you fully. “Aemond,” he says.

“Good for you,” you say, and go to take a seat beside Helaena.

“Tea or coffee?” she asks you, reaching towards the two silver pots in the middle of the table.

“Coffee, please.”

Helaena makes a shocked expression. “Blasphemy. I’m a tea girl.” 

As Helaena pours some coffee into a china cup, Aemond takes the free seat opposite you. Your heart races a little, infuriated at the sight of him, somewhat guilty that your time at Dragonstone has already soured and his entire family is there to see it.

You add just a dash of milk to your coffee. In the corner of your eye you see him watching you, fork hovering in front of his face. You muster the confidence to look up and he averts his eye.

After you’ve finished your breakfast you head out to the patio, down the stone steps and to the pool, settling on one of the lounge chairs. Helaena has gone back up to her room to change and bring you both down a towel.

You lather suncream on your limbs, face and neck, and open your book. This is a nice kind of heat, one that you’re more prepared for. You can almost feel it permeating your skin, breathing new life into your blood. 

You get a few moments of bliss until a silhouette appears beside you.

You raise your eyes from the page, over the edges of your sunglasses, staring ahead at the surface of the pool. You can smell a man’s aftershave, and you can tell he’s too tall to be Aegon.

Ice clinks against glass. He leans down to place something on the small table beside you. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

You don’t want to turn your head, that might be misinterpreted as you actually caring.

But then Aemond’s voice takes on a lighter tone and he says, “Are you reading Crime and Punishment?” 

You scrunch your brows in bewilderment as you look up at him.

His eye moves between your face and the book in your lap

“Yeah,” you say, shifting your legs and drawing your knees closer to your torso, “I’m finding it a bit boring to be honest.”

His lips are parted ever so slightly and you can see the tips of his teeth. “It’s one of my favourite books.”

“I think that might explain a lot,” you say.

The corner of his mouth flickers like he might smile. He holds it back. 

“What’s this?” You ask, looking down at the glass of iced coffee he’s placed on the table. 

“A peace offering,” Aemond says. “I really am sorry about yesterday evening. I just… panicked. Vhagar isn’t always good around people she doesn’t trust. She bit my nephew once actually.”

“Oh, not good.”

“It was years ago, and to be fair to her—” he doesn’t finish that sentence. He presses his lips together. “I just thought I should apologise to you.”

Even when apologising he sounds smug.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you say.

He hums, it’s cryptic and it throws you off a little. He looks at you like he has a secret, like he’s managed to spot something that you haven’t. 

You feel aware of yourself and now you can’t breathe without doing it consciously. You feel beads of sweat forming at the back of your neck, the warmth of your own skin with your thighs pressed together, the pulse in your chest, the restless feeling in your stomach. You’re worried you might do something stupid, but how could you? You’re only sitting in a swimsuit and sunglasses, while Aemond is doing nothing to hide the fact that he’s looking at you– studying you with a hint of excitement in his eye.

And after about a minute of this he says, “enjoy your morning,” turning and strolling towards the patio. 

You clench your jaw, determined that you won’t look back at him, but you listen to his footsteps as they move away. 

With each line you read, you can only think of Aemond pouring over every word and making this book his bible. You imagine his hands holding the cover, his fingertip dragging over the page, his lips parted in concentration. It feels intrusive, it feels too involved. You couldn’t possibly put this book down now.

Aemond is an understated presence amongst his own family. He often lurks in the library or in a corner of the sitting room with a book. He wanders the gardens with his headphones on. He takes Vhagar down to the beach every evening and some nights you steal glances of them from a window at the front of the house. He gets these headaches, something to do with the scar over his eye, and when he does he likes to retreat to his room. When he is around for dinner he sits at the head of the table, opposite his father but miles away from him. He’s not a big talker but when he does have something to add to the conversation he commandeers it. Everyone stops to listen when he speaks.

You like watching him, the way he fiddles with anything within his reach, how he strokes his fingertips over his hands, the edge of his jaw. You look for his microexpressions, the twitches of his brow and the quirk of his lips when he finds something amusing, and how at the mentions of sensitive subjects or certain names, his eye widens. 

He smirks when he sees you looking, you don’t mind that he knows that you are.

You don’t want to seek him out, but you don’t try to avoid him either. He’s always somewhere in your periphery, his hand brushing against yours at the dinner table, the smell of his Marlboros wafting from the patio when you’re sitting by the pool which makes you wonder if he’s watching you. In the evenings after dinner, you and the Targaryen siblings hang around the firepit late into the night. Helaena and Daeron talk about constellations and roast marshmallows, Aegon plucks on a guitar, and you and Aemond fall into a game of pretending like you’re not looking at each other. 

Some nights you sit across from him, your view distorted by the heat and the flames. Other nights he dares to sit beside you, close enough that his leg will rest against yours. He keeps his voice soft until you’re leaning in closer to catch every word he says, this insufferable man who bings you a coffee every morning and asks you about the books you read.

One night Aemond is sat beside you. Helaena sings along to Aegon’s guitar, Daeron drums his fingers against his legs, gazing in wonder at his siblings because moments like this are a rarity for him.

“Do you forgive me yet?” Aemond asks, his arm draped along the back of the bench you sit on. Maybe he can read your mind because you’ve been silently begging for him to come closer… closer…

Your senses are hazy, the smoke of the fire, the scent of cigarettes and aftershave lingering on Aemond’s shirt, the glasses of wine you had with dinner, the clear, cold night air piercing the backs of your arms. He notices you shivering and slips his arm around your shoulders, slowly, so you have a chance to tell him to stop. His heat is white hot. Your chest feels hollow and weightless.

Everything about him is hypnotising, the curve of his mouth, his self-assuredness, the look in his eye that’s gentle and intense all at once.

Your body feels heavy; you should probably go to bed soon. “Do you care if I forgive you?”

He frowns, less disappointed, more intrigued and lifts his hand to brush your hair from your neck, fingertips grazing over your skin. Your body stiffens in his wake, like electricity coursing through your shoulders, down your spine.

“I’d hate to have it hanging over my head,” he mutters.

You turn your head and now your faces are inches apart. His nose twitches as he breathes, you notice.

His palm comes to rest on your bare thigh, below the hem of your shorts. In the corner of your eye you see heads of silver hair glancing across the firepit. Aegon chuckles. You’re content to let the distractions fade away. “Keep bringing me coffees and I’ll consider it.”

The next day you’re laying on your bed, enjoying the cool of the early evening against your damp skin and hair after a shower. How you can be so exhausted after a day of reading by the pool makes you despair a little. It’s the heat, it messes with your brain.

The music through your headphones is interrupted by a notification.

Helaena Targaryen: Aemond said he’s off to walk the dogs if you want to join him.

You frown at the screen. Did he want Helaena to ask you? You specifically?

Surprisingly, you were getting on rather well with Aemond today, not enough for him to text you himself, or ask for your number for that matter. At the very least, things have been less hostile since your first encounter. You saw him at breakfast and he asked you how you were getting on with Crime and Punishment, if you had finally realised that it’s the best piece of literature put to the world (his words). You said you were not convinced, only because it was fun to argue about it with him. While you were sitting by the pool he came down in a pair of black trunks and no shirt, swam twenty laps in twenty minutes, then dried off in the lounge chair next to yours. Later, while Helaena was sitting with you, he appeared from the kitchen with two bowls of strawberries with the stems cut off. And then at lunch he sat between Aegon and Daeron, and hardly looked at you.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, painfully conscious that Helaena will be able to see that you’re typing.

Helaena Targaryen: I think it’s part of him ‘making amends’ with you.

Helaena Targaryen: He probably still feels bad about it.

Helaena Targaryen: Loser.

You smile to yourself and type out your reply: Yeah, why not. Where does he want me?

While Helaena starts to type you quickly pull on some shorts and a clean t-shirt. Your phone dings while you’re in front of the mirror, dabbing concealer under your eyes.

Helaena Targaryen: Front door. Five mins. Have fun :) 

It will probably take you five minutes to find your way down to the entrance hall anyway. You finish your face off with some blush on the apples of your cheeks and a thin amount of mascara on your lashes. There’s not much you can do about your wet hair, but other than that you’re mostly satisfied with yourself, so you pull on a pair of trainers, slip your phone into your back pocket and hurry through the corridors of Dragonstone.

He’s waiting for you in the entrance hall by the door, Vhagar, the great dane on one leash, Sunfyre, the golden labrador on another. He gives you a half smile as you approach them.

“Who am I walking?” you say.

“My girl stays with me,” he says, offering you Sunfyre’s leash, which you take, ruffling his ears.

“Vhagar is your girl then, is she?” you ask as Aemond leads you out the door and down the front steps, past the spot where she scared you half to death. The dogs are eager to storm ahead but Aemond keeps Vhagar on a tight lead, so you do the same.

“I suppose. We’ve had great danes forever, my father’s very fond of them. We got Vhagar when I was sixteen and well, we just like each other a lot I guess.” 

“What about Sunfyre?”

“He’s Aegon’s really, but mostly he stays at the Keep with mum and dad. Aegon doesn’t really stay in the same place long enough.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Yeah well, he does what he wants. This way,” Aemond says, nodding towards the downhill path to the beach. You’ve been down here with Helaena already, a winding gravel path lined with bushes and brambles down the cliff face. Vhagar plods along leisurely, Sunfyre can’t get down fast enough. When you stumble, Aemond steadies you, a large hand wrapped around your forearm. “He can run off now anyway,” he mutters, undoing the leash, and Sunfyre darts along the path in a golden flash.

Low in the sky, you see the sun dancing along the surface of the sea, waves rolling orange and blue into white foam as they meet the shore.

“What about you?”

Aemond looks at you with a brief look of bewilderment.

“Are you not doing what you want?”

He tries to conceal a frown, pouting his lips slightly. “Maybe I did for a bit, wound up working for Targ Corp, so I don’t see what difference any of it made.”

Once you reach the sand and Sunfyre is sniffing at some rocks along the base of the cliff, Aemond looks at you. “Are you alright if I take her off the leash?”

Vhagar looks pleadingly up at her owner, her tail thrumming against the ground.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

“I just didn't know if you’d be comfortable after…”

“Oh,” you say, “thanks for considering it, but yes, it’s more than fine.”

Aemond grins as he undoes the clasp connecting the lead to Vhagar’s collar.

“What?” you ask.

“Does that mean you forgive me now?”

You fold your arms, your cheeks straining as you try to withhold the extent of your smile. “You do make a good coffee, I’ll give you that.”

Sunfyre and Vhagar entertain themselves, chasing each other, running to the edge of the water where the waves rush over the sand and retreat again. You and Aemond walk along the shore where the sand is damp and stable. Aemond says the tide will be coming in within the hour.

“So why work for Targ Corp if you don’t want to?” you ask him. 

Aemond contemplates this for a moment, making a low humming noise in his throat. “If I really didn’t want to, I wouldn't.”

“But if Aegon gets to do what he wants, why don’t you?”

He looks down at his shoes, white sneakers, and digs his hands into the pocket of his joggers. “I remember thinking when I finished my bachelor’s, there were lots of things I was good at.”

You make a teasing face.

“No, I just mean there’s lots of things I could have done. I thought about being a curator, or something, you know? I did my dissertation on that actually, how museums and exhibitions can distort the past as well as preserve it–” he interrupts himself with a short tut. “Sorry, I don’t need to bore you.”

Your eyes trail along the curve of his jaw and his chin in the fading light. The wind is gentle, whispering over the bare skin of your cheeks, your arms, your legs. The smell of sea salt lingers in your nose and on your tongue. “I’m not bored,” you say.

With a shy sort of smile he tells you more, how he used to spend hours in the museums in Oldtown, looking at exhibits on Dorne, Essos and Valyria, the papers he read, the cultural memory and the dissonance. “History and heritage, when you think about them, are inherently vague concepts,” he says, “because they’re all based on claims and narratives that are difficult to determine and if they are clear cut, they’re biased. So how do we find the truth? How do we know that what we’re claiming is the right story is actually accurate?” You find yourself watching the parts of him you usually do. He speaks with his hands, indicating and gesturing and moving them randomly when he’s trying to think of a word or explain himself. Occasionally he runs his fingers through his hair or rubs his chin. And his single eye is wide, looking up as he pieces together a thought, looking back to you so he knows you’re still listening. 

“But after all that, you went and trained to be an accountant?” you ask.

“You should have seen the look on my father’s face when I told him I wanted to do a masters in museum studies. So yeah, accounting it was.”

It makes you sad, but you don’t want to tell him that. The entire time you’ve been here you’ve never seen Aemond so animated, talking about something he seems to love.

“What about you? What are your big life plans?” he says.

“Anything but accounting.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

“I’ll do a masters eventually, but I want to work for a little bit. I’ll start applying for jobs when I’m home.”

“In King’s Landing?”

“Yeah.” You look back up at the dark stone of the cliff, the layers and straight lines, the tops of the castle’s turrets just visible from the shore. “Yeah, yeah I think there’s so much pressure to find something to do. I mean, I was trying to focus on my dissertation and my exams, and I kept having these weird moments where I’d think, what’s the point? I don’t have a job ready to go. I don’t have a place on a masters course. I don’t have any plans to travel or volunteer at an orphanage in Meereen. It was like there was a timer going off in my brain and if I didn’t make something of my life before my exams were over, well it was all going to be a waste.” Now you’re the one moving your hands mindlessly, and you don’t know why but saying it all out loud makes you nervous. “Sometimes I feel like I’m running out of time.”

You look back at Aemond and realise you’ve stopped walking. Somewhere along the beach the dogs bark and splash in the shallowest part of the water. Aemond is watching you. He still has his hands in his pockets, his lips curled into a vague smile. “You have plenty of time, don’t worry,” he says. 

It suddenly strikes you what Alicent had mentioned, about him moving back to King’s Landing.

Without stepping away from him you take a mental note of him, your eyes glancing up and down. You want to remember his silhouette, his posture and how he stands, the way he angles his chin, the way he likes to hold his hands behind his back, the joggers and the shape of his torso though his t-shirt. You think you could recognise him at a brief glance, a single body in a crowded city. You think you’d find him.

Aemond meets your eye and raises his brow. 

You smile slightly to fein innocent interest. “We’ll be neighbours, we might see each other wandering around the city.”

But you realise you’ve made a mistake. His amusement starts to fade from his face, his shoulders stiffening. He turns and puts his middle finger and thumb in his mouth to whistle the dogs. They both freeze and bound back towards you. “Tide will be coming in soon,” he says to you.

He has Vhagar and Sunfyre on their leads again. By the time you come back to the path on the cliff the sky is a dull shade of dark blue. The castle looms in darkness and the light comes from within, golden through all of its windows.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit of a downer,” you say.

“You’re fine,” Aemond says. Your steps sound in perfect time along the gravel, up to the front steps. Vhagar and Sunfyre huff and pant, pulling on their leads and eager for a rest.

You reach the door and Aemond opens it. Down the hall one of the butlers is waiting to take the dogs.

“It’s just, I thought we were getting on.”

“We are,” Aemond mutters. “Do you think we are?”

It’s hard to tell with Aemond. He’s polite when he needs to be, easily irritated around his siblings. He’s so calm and composed, but you can see it in his eye when he’s thinking– you just don’t know what. But then there are moments like this, when you think you’ve scratched the surface, when his gaze lingers on you and his eye is soft but intent. When he brings you a coffee in the morning, when he tells you about his favourite book and the things he wishes he’d done with his life.

You’re standing in the entrance hall. Dragonstone is alive, filled with people and distant sounds. Beyond the ancient walls the wind picks up and the tide is coming in. If you took one step closer to Aemond, your navel would be pressed against his.

“I want us to get on,” you say.

“Me too.”

“And I thought we were getting somewhere.”

“Maybe we are,” he says. “I liked this, you’re a good listener.”

“I don’t get that a lot.”

“Do you not?”

“Well I suppose it helps if the person speaking has something interesting to say.”

“Oh,” he says with a little nod, “I thought you were going to say you just liked me that much.”

“That helps too.”

No taglist, follow @ficsbygee and turn on post notifs for updates <3

[youcanseethecosmos]

hi everyone 🥹 long time no see. hope yall still remember me 😭 i'm starting to get back into the thick of things bc i recently lost a job opportunity and i'm still a bit (a lot) depressed about it. so please do feel free to go into my ask box and ask about the actors au and help spark some love back into it please 🥹🥹🥹

[rafecameronssl4t]

i remember at the start of the forced marriage that reader was smoking, so i wanted to ask, did she stop when her and rafe got married, or was it more like her still smoking, and/or hiding it from him and him finding out?

Cigarette daydreams || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: Reader does end up quitting bc she’s expected to have children but I imagine Rafe to not be very expressive with his opinions about her smoking because he knows that it soothes her and understands that it’s what she needs in the moment.

Warnings: smoking, if there’s anything else, lmk!!

Word count: 1,882

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“So, how was it?” Aspyn, your long time friend, smiled warmly over the rim of her tea cup. The two of you sat outside in the garden of your coastal estate, the morning sun casting a gentle glow over the manicured lawns and flowering shrubs. You shrugged, adjusting yourself in the plush sofa, your gaze moving to the greenery of the garden.

“The meetings were tedious, honestly. And it was freezing,” you sighed, bringing the cigarette delicately cradled between your manicured fingers to your lips. You took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl from your lips, the familiar burn of the tobacco calming your nerves. “But Moscow itself? It’s beautiful,” you added, flicking the ash into the ashtray on the table next to your untouched breakfast without a second thought.

Aspyn hummed thoughtfully, the sunlight catching the highlights in her hair as she leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting over the garden. “I wish my husband would take me along on his business trips. He’s always so focused on his work,” she mused, her tone tinged with a soft sadness. She had married out of love, something you had never had the luxury to do.

You chuckled, a low sound that held little humour, taking another inhale and allowing the smoke to fill your lungs, the habit one of the few things that still brought you a sense of control. “That’s the difference between us, Aspyn,” you said, exhaling slowly. “You married for love. I didn’t.” You murmured, the smoke trailing from your lips like a sigh.

“Rafe doesn’t exactly ‘take’ me with him. I’m expected to go, whether I want to or not.” You remembered how your mother had insisted on this trip with Rafe—something about appearances and how a proper wife should always stand by her husband’s side. Even when you barely spoke to each other during the flights or shared nothing more than empty pleasantries in front of his business associates, you were there.

Always there, whether you liked it or not. It was part of the deal, after all. Aspyn’s smile faltered for a moment as she stirred her tea, the envy she tried to hide flickering across her face. Her marriage was built on love and warmth, but the wealth and status you held, the trips to exotic locations, the endless luxury—it was something she quietly envied, even if she knew your marriage was far from perfect.

“I just… I don’t know. It would be nice to see the world with him,” she admitted softly, casting a glance at the table spread before you—plates of pastries, fresh fruit, and coffee, all arranged meticulously by the house staff. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fixed on the distant horizon where the sky met the sea. “Be careful what you wish for,” you murmured, a bitter edge creeping into your voice.

You took another long drag, feeling the familiar burn in your throat as you looked out the window at the passing cars, your thoughts already drifting back to the strained silence that would greet you when you returned home. Lucky? Maybe from the outside. But inside, you weren’t sure if luck had anything to do with it anymore. The life you led was a gilded cage, beautiful from the outside but hollow within.

A comfortable silence settled between you and Aspyn as the morning sun bathed the garden in a soft, warm light. The soft rustling of leaves accompanied the peaceful atmosphere, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mixing with the faint scent of your cigarette. It was these quiet moments with Aspyn that you cherished, where the complexities of your life could fade, if only for a short while.

Aspyn finally spoke up, her voice cheerful, easily cutting through the stillness without shattering it. That was what you liked most about her—how she could shift the conversation so seamlessly, never making things awkward. It was comforting, like a reprieve from the complexities of your own life.

“Did you hear about the new boutique opening soon?” Aspyn’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she reached for a delicate slice of fruit. You turned your head to her, taking a slow drag from your cigarette before exhaling, the smoke lazily drifting upwards. “No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly, the embers glowing at the tip of your cigarette.

“Oh my god, we have to go! There are only five stores like this around the world—one in Paris, London—” She cut herself off mid-sentence, her gaze suddenly shifting past you, her excitement dimming into something more cautious. You frowned, leaning over slightly to flick the ash from your cigarette into the nearby tray. “What is it?” you asked, a bit confused by her change in demeanour. Then her words came, slower now. “Were you… expecting Rafe?”

Your head snapped around, your heart giving a slight jolt as you saw him approaching across the garden. He moved with a quiet intensity, his sharp features unreadable as the morning sun cast shadows across his face. His sharp eyes were trained on you, and the sight made your pulse quicken—out of habit more than fear.

“Shit!” you cursed under your breath, immediately stubbing out your cigarette and blowing the smoke away as discreetly as possible, hurriedly waving your hand in front of you to disperse the lingering smoke. It was a futile attempt to mask the scent, though, and you knew he had already seen. Rafe’s sharp eyes were already fixed on you, his expression unchanging as he walked closer.

Aspyn shifted awkwardly in her seat, “He doesn’t know you still smoke?” She questions as you snap your eyes to her, “Kinda, I haven’t in front of him for awhile and so he probably thought I quit,” You quickly say before focusing you attention on Rafe. His approach measured and deliberate. He wasn’t angry—you could tell that much from his calm stride—but that didn’t mean you were free from the quiet judgment he often wielded so easily.

You’d seen that look before, the one that said he didn’t have to say a word for you to understand. “Enjoying the morning?” His voice was smooth, casual, as he finally reached the table. When his eyes flickered down to the cigarette, then back to your face, it made your stomach twist. You forced a smile, trying to maintain the illusion of calm.

“Just catching up with Aspyn,” you replied, a slight edge creeping into your voice despite your best efforts to keep it light. You desperately hoped the tension in your tone would go unnoticed, though you knew better with Rafe. His gaze briefly flickered to Aspyn, offering her a polite nod in acknowledgement before settling back on you.

“Hope you’re not overdoing it,” he said quietly, his words casual on the surface, but laced with a subtle undercurrent only you could catch. It wasn’t a direct reprimand—it rarely was with him—but the way his eyes lingered on the cigarette and then on you made your stomach tighten. The familiar look of disapproval, though not overtly harsh, always made you feel small.

You swallowed the frustration rising in your throat, the taste of tobacco still bitter on your tongue. “I’m fine,” you said, your words clipped. You pushed the ashtray away, trying to shift the focus from the cigarette to something more neutral. His gaze lingered a moment longer, the silence thick with unspoken thoughts.

It was never loud or confrontational with Rafe. He understood that the cigarettes brought you a sense of control and calm, even though he was against them, particularly now when your body needed to be in its best shape for carrying a child. His silent judgment was often more oppressive than any spoken criticism could be.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, resisting the urge to light another cigarette just out of defiance. The habit had always been a small rebellion against the constraints of your life, but under Rafe’s watchful gaze, it felt like something you needed to hide.

Beside you, Aspyn sat quietly, her usual chatter replaced with a careful silence. You could feel her curiosity, the way her eyes darted between you and Rafe, though she made no effort to involve herself. She knew when the tension between you and Rafe hung too thick to cut through, and now was one of those times.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, resisting the urge to light another cigarette just out of defiance. The habit had always been one of your escapes, a quiet rebellion against the constraints of your life. But here, under Rafe’s watchful gaze, it felt more like something to be ashamed of. You had always hated that—the way he could make something that once brought you comfort feel like another thing you had to hide.

Rafe stood there, his hands tucked in his pants as he studied you, your eyes fixated on the table. “I hope you’re ready,” he said, his voice cool and measured. You blinked, confused as you looked up at him. “Ready for what?” Rafe’s gaze flickered to your untouched breakfast on your plate, and you could feel the silent judgment in his eyes, though he didn’t linger on it. “We have another trip tomorrow. New York this time.”

Your heart dropped. “Tomorrow?” You stared at him in disbelief, shaking your head. “But we just got back from Russia,” you protested, frustration creeping into your tone. Rafe shrugged, his expression indifferent. “Business doesn’t wait.” You glanced at Aspyn, whose eyes widened slightly. She stayed quiet, clearly sensing the growing tension.

You returned your focus to Rafe, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling inside you. “I haven’t even unpacked from the last trip,” you muttered, but you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He was already mentally packed and ready to go, as always. “Then you’ll need to get started,” he said simply, his voice clipped, before turning to head back inside without further explanation.

You sat there, stunned for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. It was always the same—your life dictated by his business, your time revolving around his schedule, and any attempt to protest met with cool indifference. Aspyn shifted beside you, clearing her throat delicately. “I guess New York is next, huh?” she said softly, her earlier excitement now dampened.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you regretfully glanced at the cigarette you’d just stubbed out. “Yeah. I guess it is.” Aspyn shifted beside you, her voice hesitant. “He doesn’t like you smoking, does he?” You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “No, he doesn’t. But that’s never stopped me before,” you said, though the bravado in your words felt hollow.

You could still feel the weight of Rafe’s judgment, the way his disapproval lingered even after he was gone. It wasn’t just about the cigarettes—it was about control, about the way every little decision you made somehow felt tied to him. Aspyn gave you a sympathetic look, her gaze softening. “Well, it’s not like he’s perfect either,” she offered, trying to bring some levity to the conversation, though the heaviness remained.

You smiled faintly, but your thoughts were still with Rafe and the quiet, unspoken expectations that always seemed to hang over you. Even in the smallest things, like the habit of lighting a cigarette, there was always something more. Always something unspoken between you and him.

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 015 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. angst. physical violence (not to the reader.) manipulation. lying. angst. hurt and a little bit of comfort ig??

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 10.4k

series masterlist 

[ FIFTEEN ] scattered ‘cross my family line, i’m so good at telling lies – that came from my mother’s side, told a million to survive. . . i can’t forget, i can’t forgive you. ‘cause now i’m scared that everyone i love will leave me

“This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

The tranquil song of the sea was deceptive. A vast expanse of silver under the soft glow of the full moon caressed Rintaro’s face, his handsome face heartbreakingly heartbroken. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a serene, almost ethereal light upon the two of you. On the distant coast, a lighthouse flickered, its beam briefly piercing the darkness before vanishing. The momentary light was enough to let you see – the truth, the split-second show of vulnerability within his eyes before it left only the memory of its glow.

Rintaro stood in front of you, at an arm’s length away but your heart worlds apart. The long line of spray marked where the sea met the land, its boundary evident. There, where the moon’s loght turned the sand into a luminous carpet beneath your feet, the waves lulled your racing hearts into quiet murmurs swallowed by the breeze.

You listened to his words – words that carried the weight of an ending unforeseen. Disbelief clouded your mind. You refused to accept what you just heard. Turning your head the other way, you bit down on your lip, hard enough you tasted the coppery tang of blood.

The rhythm of the sea was like the lilt of your heartbeat, steady yet trembling. It began, ceased, and began again, each cycle mirroring this endless round of circles you and Rintaro ran in – to loving, to hurting, to forgiving. Was this how ended? In a poorly-timed farewell?

You always knew this moment would come. Someone would have had to say goodbye. You just never thought the words would come from his mouth.

Your feet rooted deep in the sand, you listened to the melancholy refrain of waves crashing against each other. The moonlight reflected in the water, a silver path stretching into the unknown. You stood there, letting the sea speak the emotions too deep to be said out loud.

And what a moment it was – with the beauty of the night, the serene majesty of the sea, and bittersweet flicker of candles behind you.

It would’ve been easier if the sea held your sadness, with the moon as your witness in your quiet despair, the cliffs holding onto their stone each memory you knew you’d keep for many years to come. The night air, sweet and cool, carried away and brought with the wind your unshed tears.

This was a mistake. We should get divorced.

Rintaro’s words echoed in your mind, a cruel reminder that some stories, no matter how beautiful or tragic, all had its end.

“What did you say?” you licked your lips, forcing a smile despite the wobbliness of your knees. It couldn’t be, right? The night was going well. Fate couldn’t be so cruel – he’d just begun to love you. “I must have heard you wrong.”

Your husband turned away from you, his grip on the bouquet tightening. You watched as the flowers crushed between its force, its beauty drained with one just hand.

“You didn’t. I meant what I said – we should end this.”

“Why?”

His head snapped your way. “What do you mean, why?” he hissed, the bouquet slammed on the ground as he gestured to the air. His eyes were blown wide, frantic and desperate. “Look around you. Don’t you realize none of this feels right? Let’s drop the act, Princess. Neither of us truly want each other, and don’t tell me I’m wrong when I see the way you look at me.”

You reeled back, unknowingly clutching at your chest. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you’re thinking of ways to get rid of me,” he spat out with a laugh, “Like-like you’re looking for the man who courted you two years ago, the one you truly wanted to marry. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, because you’re not going to find him. He never existed in the first place. Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me,” his eyes blazed with fury, but then, as if the fire within him had been doused, his hands fell limply at his sides. “But you may find him in someone else.”

Rintaro’s gaze dropped to the floor. Sorrow filled his eyes, his expression softened before he spun on his heel. Turning away, your husband stepped forward.

“Take one more step–” you threatened him, hands balled into fists. “–and I will make you regret it.”

“Do your worst,” came his tired reply, his shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t care less.”

His steps were quick, as if he couldn’t waste any more time in getting away from you. It made blood boil within your veins. Before you could notice, you’d already crossed the distance in one breath, furiously grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him to face you. You were certain you look crazed – your face flushed, your cheeks damp with tears rolling down. He must’ve seen it too, his face falling at the sight of you.

“No! You think you can walk away from me? You think you can do all this–” you gestured to the beach around you, finding it harder to breathe with each word you spoke. “–buy me a house, tell me you envisioned a future with me, made love to me, and even prepared this dinner–”

“I didn’t do it for you. It was Kiyoomi who came up with this idea because he wanted to make you happy.”

Shaking your head, you shoved at his chest. “He wouldn’t do that. Kiyoomi wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, but I am for going along with it?” he snapped, closing the distance until his wrath enveloped you. “Get out of your head. Just because I did all those things for you, doesn’t mean they meant something. Are you forgetting I spent two years of my life trying to win you over, and I never once felt something for you other than tolerance?” When your face fell, triumph washed over his features. “That’s right. You remember now, don’t you? She’s the one I want. Everything I do is for her. Don’t forget your place.”

“My place? I am your wife. It’s my ring that you have on your finger. What place should I be forgetting? All of this is for me, you did this for me–”

“Oh, wake the fuck up, Y/N!” he bellowed, grabbing at his hair before he turned to glare at you. “I’m so tired of you going around acting like everything I do meant something. Has it never crossed your mind I could have just been bored? It didn’t, did it? Because you’re honestly foolish enough to let your guard down and believe that I wanted you!”

“Then why do all this if you didn’t?” you retorted, “You could become King as long as you married me and I gave you a son. You didn’t have to buy me a house, o-or act like you cared behind the cameras–”

“Well, are you? Are you with child?”

“No, but why does–”

“Then you have no hold over me. Marriage means nothing. This ring? This stupid fucking thing?” You glanced at the gold band at his finger, the one you watched roll over the floor on that day you gave it back to him. Rintaro hadn’t taken it off since, but now he looked at with resentment – like it suffocated him, choked him. “It means nothing. You cannot make me King if you don’t give me a child. And as long as you’re walking around without a baby in your belly, then you mean nothing to me. You have no purpose in my life.”

“So that’s what this is, then? Because she’s pregnant and I’m not?”

Rintaro’s face morphed into despair for a fleeting moment, so quick you questioned if you saw it at all. But almost as quickly, Rintaro’s posture straightened, his eyes hardening with steely resolve. Your breath caught in your throat – your suspicions confirmed.

So it was true. He knew.

And all of this – this house, that mocking conversation of building a family with you – it had been nothing but a cruel joke.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips. Stumbling back, your hands instinctively clutched at your chest as if desperately holding together the pieces of your shattered heart. The attempt was all for naught. The weight of betrayal crashed over you like a thundering wave. Each thought was a daggered stabbed to your soul as the pieces fit together – your husband, the one you loved, and his true love, now carrying his child.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision. You tried to hold them back, refusing to let him have the satisfaction that he’d succeeded in hurting you.

And it had been so easy, wasn’t it? He knew you so well, knew you like the back of his hand, that it came without too much effort that it was so easy to have you wrapped around his finger. One kiss, one tender touch, one proclamation of his so-called affections, and you would’ve broken your back bending to his will. He knew. He knew how easy it would be to win you over, and time and time again, you fell for it like the fool you were.

Everything burned. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

“You are cruel, Suna Rintaro. I regret the day I danced with you,” you gritted your teeth, digging your nails into your palm. Hard. “Perhaps you are right. We should get divorced.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’s for the best, even if it’s not what you think.”

“Because you can finally be with her, right? Your dream life is already coming true. You’re going to be a father, you’re going to spend a future with the one you love, and I’m hopelessly in love with you enough that I’ll just let it happen,” you smiled for him, clapping your hands together slowly and mockingly. “Congratulations. It’s everything you wanted. Things are finally going accordingly to plan. Should we open a wine to celebrate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop acting like a child. You knew what you were getting into when you caught us together and still proceeded with the wedding.”

“You still blame me for that after everything I did for you?”

The silence hung in the air. Somehow, his lack of response already spoke a thousand words.

Unable to help yourself, you glanced at the beach house behind Rintaro. It stood proudly against the backdrop of the setting sun, its white walls glowing warmly in the fading light.

The memories came flooding all at once – the laughter you shared, the stolen kisses when he thought no one was looking, the whispered promises of a life you’d never life. You could almost see them dancing in front of you, like ghosts of the past, lingering in the shadows of the porch and taunting you with the fact it had been too good to be true. So many dreams built, so many dreams shattered.

Your heart ached in ways it shattered you bone-deep. It echoed from your chest and reverberated down to your feet as you recalled the nights you spent wrapped in his arms. His hands on your cheeks, a small smile on his face – when he still looked at you like he loved you and meant it.

But now? Now, that love felt like a cruel illusion – a beautiful dream turned into a living nightmare. The betrayal cut deep, deep enough it left behind the harsh hand prints on your soul. The wounds stinging hard that it might never heal. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it – from the swing on the porch swaying gently on the evening breeze, the window that once framed your silhouettes when you welcomed the sunrise together. Each detail was a stab to your already broken heart.

A stray tear fell on your cheek. Brushing it away, hands trembling, you took a deep breath – forcing the salty air to fill your lungs. “Was… was any of it real?”

Turning away from the house was the hardest part. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of your memories were trying to pull you back. You cast one last, longing glance over your shoulder, your heart silently breaking anew.

Deep down, you already knew his answer. Still, it did not soften the blow when the words left his lips. It didn’t hurt any less when regret crossed his features, like somehow; a part of him wished it had been. “No. None of it was.”

“Okay,” you resigned, your body turned away from him, so he wouldn’t have to see be so pathetic anymore. When you finally spoke again, your voice came out as a breathy whisper. “You should go.”

You heard a slight shuffling behind you, followed by his mumbled words. “I never wanted to stay, anyway.”

When Rintaro walked away from you, each step he took was daunting, final. You didn’t know what hurt you more – the fact he never looked back, or the fact he never hesitated. But there was one thing that was made crystal clear to you now: it was never going to be you. How deeply unfair it was, that a man could say things he did not mean, do things he did not want to. How he could marry you and buy a house, and then turn you away at the next moment.

Love truly was a dangerous thing. It made you break down your walls, hopelessly and blindly handing your heart in the hands of someone, all while silently hoping they wouldn’t break it. And when it did, who would pick up the fallen pieces? Who would gather the shattered shards of your soul as it spilled like blood through his fingertips?

You didn’t have an answer for any of these.

Knees buckling, you fell into the sand, your palms sinking on it with its weight. You cried your heart out – the skies hearing your anguish as it echoed in the dead of the night. You screamed, begged, and called out for a God who never listened. The betrayal left a bitter taste on your tongue, a relentless ache that gnawed at your insides until it felt like nothing was left. As if you’d been hollowed out, bled out to dry, and discarded to the side.

You laid there for who knew how long. The flames of the candle had gone out, the food forgotten and cold. Sand had made its way into your joints and your hair. Your cheek felt crusty and hard from the dried tears. You cried and cried until there were no more tears left – watching from the horizon as the skies deepened into a darker shade.

Just then, a jacket fell on your bare shoulders. Stiffening, you raised your head from where you rested it on your drawn knees – blearily blinking at the figure before you. The man stood tall even with his legs bent, the faintest hint of spice mixing with the breeze.

Behind you, the Second Prince stood, his face devoid of any emotion. Yet, his eyes said it all. You are briefly shocked by how much you saw of yourself within him at that moment. The longing, the sadness – Kiyoomi wore his grief proudly. At the sight of you, his face softened. He offered his hands, one you took with no hesitance, and allowed him to pull you up to your feet. You two stood like that for a few minutes – unspeaking, and just staring at each other.

Kiyoomi was the first to look away.

“You’re cold. You shouldn’t stay out here,” tightening his jacket around you, the Prince suddenly pulled you in for an embrace. It happened too fast, faster than you could react. Before you knew it, your face was pressed against his chest, his heartbeat – strong and mighty – the only sound audible aside from the howling breeze. And you sunk into his hold as your tears stained his shirt, realizing a little too late how much you needed this – to be held so tightly like he feared letting you, like he could squeeze you hard enough and it would hopefully – eventually – piece back together the heart his brother had broken.

“Shhh. I got you, Princess. I’ll always be here for you.”

You’ve gone past the point of believing such flowery words. But when it came from Kiyoomi, you never doubted he’d keep the promises he’d made.

The once-vibrant beach house, filled with laughter and endless conversations, now stood in silence. Its walls held the unspoken truth that forever was not going to last. The gentle breeze that had always carried a promise of endless days spent in joy now whispered farewells through the rustling palms.

Rintaro had begun his farewells. Now, it was your turn to leave everything behind.

The Princes and their companions moved with quiet efficiency. Ever since that dreadful night, things hadn’t been the same anymore. No one spoke about what happened, but it didn’t take a fool to understand that romantic dinners weren’t supposed to end with you and Rintaro returning to the house hours apart – both miserable and mum. One quick look at you two, and the Princes began packing up.

Everyone knew their time had run up.

Casting a final, longing glance at the house, you breathed in the salty breeze one last time. The memories clung to you, each step you took feeling like a betrayal to the woman you could’ve been – the wife he could’ve had, and the mother you would’ve been. With a heavy heart, you watched as everyone loaded their luggage back to their respective vehicles, each one of them driving off. Their movements – along with yours – had been mechanical, as if the finality of their departure had numbed everyone to their core.

You looked out the window. The sun had began to greet the world with its morning kiss. The sea, once shimmering and glistening with spark-like waves, now seemed to mourn with you. The beach, scattered with the footprints of a happier time you’d said goodbye to, would soon be swept clean by the tides.

Any traces of the memories you made would be wiped clean by the world itself. If only it could give you a new beginning, too.

The journey back to the palace was somber. The rolling hills and distant forests passed by in a blur of muted colors – the world passed you by, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. If anything, the ride back felt like walking into your own death. A death march of duty and purpose. Speaking of duty… your hands cradled your belly. You weren’t pregnant, nor were you experiencing any symptoms. Rintaro knew this, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown it in your face that you were merely nothing but a breeding mare for him – and a failed one, at that.

The palace loomed ahead, its grand spires and imposing walls reminding you of your reality.

Back at the beach house, your emotions were valid. There, you were a brokenhearted person who longed for true love. Here, though? None of that mattered. The Palace was not a place for emotions. It was a pillar, the foundation of what the Crown held – power, victory, wealth, control. Here, you were a Princess, and a Princess should always hold her head high.

You couldn’t do it. Bile rose up your throat each time you pictured yourself walking down its grand hallways, the gold shimmering and blinding you. Just the mere thought of the Queen studying you with her observant gaze made you squeamish.

You turned to Rintaro. “Can we please head to my parents instead?”

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads. The Palace was already in view. Still, his gaze darted at you, and back at the Palace, as if seriously considering it. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped against his seat. “If you are doing this as an act of revenge–”

“I’m not. My parents truly did want to see us.”

Rintaro contemplated. Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger, gazing down at it with an unreadable expression. His voice was light, and whisper-like as he said, “You cannot tell them about the affair.”

You pursed your lips. You never planned on doing so in the first place. Crossing your arms against your chest, you huffed. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I never planned on ruining your perfect image.”

Rintaro didn’t bother with responding. Instead, he asked the driver to head back to the Yuzuru Estate, and quickly informed Her Majesty on the detour. It didn’t take long enough before you were surrounded by the familiar grove of trees that led to your place. The sound of wheels on cobblestone mingled with the soft murmur of the midday breeze. Outside, the manicured gardens and stately mansions blurred into a comforting embrace, their elegant silhouettes nostalgic. You couldn’t help but feel the need to reach out, to run your fingertips over the freshly mowed grass, or admire the shapely bushes designed to perfection.

You missed your home very much – one of the few places you felt solace in before your life turned upside down.

Pulling up into the driveway, your butler immediately opened the doors for you. There was a round of warm welcomes and joyful smiles. You’d missed them, too – all the loyal staff who took turns watching over you, even when they remained hesitant to properly acquaint themselves. Nevertheless, it was home. You greedily breathed the fresh air in, letting it fill up your lungs as you breathed out the darkness pooling at your chest.

The double doors opened, and the two of you were ushered in. A few minutes later, your mother came rushing past – a shawl drawled at the curves of her arms. A smile instantaneously, rising up from your seat to meet her halfway.

“My daughter, oh, how I missed you!” she laughed, the sound of it light and coloring up the room. Pulling back from the embrace, she cupped your face with her gloved hands – all her previous smiles slowly wavering. “My goodness, have you been eating well? Sleeping well? You look… different.”

You winced. It would be hard to hide things from her, but you had to try.

Leaning into her palm, you gave her the biggest smile you could muster – teeth flashed and all. “I’m okay, Mother. The Palace can just get a little exhausting sometimes.”

“Does your husband not help you with your duties?”

It was your father who spoke this time. He must’ve come straight from trimming the bushes; a sunhat covered his head, and he wore gardening gloves that were stained with grass and a miniscule of dirt. You didn’t miss the way his gaze leered at your husband. Rintaro was stiff behind you, having stood up as well as soon as your mother entered. “He does most of them, so I believe he is more tired than I am,” you supplied, pointedly ignoring Rintaro’s relieved sigh. Clapping your hands together, you walked towards your father with open arms. “But let’s not discuss any of that – how is everyone doing? I feel like it’s been forever since I last stepped in here.”

“Ah, no,” your father complained as he held you at an arm’s length away, “My clothes are soiled, and you are pristine. Do not bother yourself with getting dirtied.”

You pouted; your mother giggling behind you.

Being back at home was an instant medication. You hadn’t been here in months, yet the effect was evident – your shoulders felt lighter, your smile more natural. You’d stopped trying to think of Iris, too, yet you remained warily aware of your husband. And it was clear Rintaro was unsure of himself. He lingered longer on the doorways, his interactions with your parents more formal than it had been compared to the first time he called upon you. You couldn’t blame him for his discomfort – the question of his affair lingered on the air.

It was only a matter of time before someone addressed it.

A few hours later, with your stomachs filled with warm, homemade meals, you all moved out towards the back gardens. The garden stretched out in a lush expanse beneath the golden glow of the setting sun, each corner rich with the memories of your precious childhood.

Winding stone paths meandered through vibrant displays of blooming flowers – roses in shades of crimson and blush, peonies in soft pastels, and clusters of fragrant lavender. Elegant statues and an ornate fountain stood in the middle of it, their waters cascading beautifully. Majestic oak trees, their branches spreading wide in a serene embrace, provided cool, dappled shade – your signature reading spot from your teenage years.

You’d made many memories here; time spent with your father chasing you and your mother around as your gurgled giggles echoed through the air. It was also where your father taught you to use weapons (much to your mother’s distaste), and eventually, even a date spot when Rintaro wanted a reprieve from the public eye.

Rintaro and your father went ahead. Your father claimed he hadn’t properly worked out in a while, and that perhaps your husband could help him warm up. Beside you, you and your mother watched as the two men rolled their sleeves up to practice sparring. It’s a silly thing, but one you knew Rintaro enjoyed. He often spent time with your father like this when he was still courting you. They toyed with weapons, hunted birds, and sparred with one another. It was your father’s way of gauging Rintaro’s strength at first. Now, they simply did it as a way of bonding.

You smiled despite yourself.

You could still remember those times vividly, where warmth crept up your neck upon the knowledge your parents liked this boy you adored. You appreciated all his efforts, never once backing down from an absurd request from your mother, or another challenge from your father. Rintaro had proven to them, without fail, that he was dedicated in winning your heart.

He’d succeeded. It would be impossible if he didn’t.

He came every day, always at seven in the morning, with a bouquet of flowers that led you into reserving a room just to turn it into an indoor garden. He’d brought flowers for your mother, too, and you knew the moment she shed a tear at his sweetness, that he’d also won their hearts. The sweet ‘yes’ he’d been working hard finally came a year during the courtship. It was on that memorable night he’d driven you out for dinner – no drivers, no servants, no anything. Just you and I, he’d said with a smile, placing a kiss upon your knuckles.

It was the first night you’d kissed him, and the first night you stayed up awake as you lost the battle of trying to calm your racing heart.

If you’d known that early that his heart had already been occupied… No.

Even if you knew, even after you knew, it was too late. You were doomed from the moment he’d picked you out from the crowd. You’d resigned yourself to your fate when the throng of people parted for him as he made his way to you, wearing the most dazzling, lazy smile befitting for a Crown Prince.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You might’ve fallen in love the moment you stepped on his toes, and all he did was laugh.

“My dear,” your mother’s silken voice pulled you out of your trance. Smiling at her, you turned her way, silently sipping on the tea the servants had prepared. Before you, your mother twitched, playing with her fingers splayed on her lap. “I don’t mean to suddenly spring this up on you, but surely you’ll understand a mother’s curiosity and concern. So, tell me. Is it real? Is it true the Crown Prince is cheating on you?”

Your body froze. You’d seen this coming – known she would’ve asked one way or another.

“No, Mother,” you shook your head, dropping your gaze onto your lap in the hopes she wouldn’t see right through you. “His Highness would never. That article was already proven to be a hoax.”

“I see…”

You shared an uneasy silence. Seated across from each other, you stirred your tea absentmindedly, gaze drifting over the manicured hedges that framed the secluded nook. Your mother, poised and composed, sipper her tea with deliberate slowness. You could tell without looking at her that her inquisitive gaze searched for answers on your face. For signs of the truth you struggled to conceal with each passing minute.

The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft rustling of leaves did little to alleviate the tension, the silence between you two growing heavier with each unspoken word.

Finally, your mother set her cup down and sighed. “I still remember the day the Crown Prince came to call on you,” she began, her words delicate and careful. Her gaze flitted to the two men before you, still elbow-deep in their sparring. “Your father and I didn’t want to believe it at first. You were always beautiful, of course, but you were such a shy, little thing. We worried you might grow old without striking a conversation with any man, but a Prince? A Crown Prince, no less? We were over the moon,” she shook her head at the memory, a small smile playing on her lips. “But then your father and I both agreed you didn’t deserve any lesser man. There couldn’t have been anyone else for you. The Crown Prince was perfect.”

He was, you wanted to agree, he used to be.

“I remember that day, too,” you mused, the image of the Prince with his slicked-back hair and three piece suit flashing in your mind.

You’d expected he would look out of your place in the Estate, whatnot with the royal crest on his chest, yet he never looked more fitting – surrounded by your family portraits and delicately gazing at your childhood photos.

“He was especially handsome – I’d say even more so than when he showed up for the Palace’s royal events.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was clear he wanted to impress us, and you, especially,” teased your mother with a slight poke of her elbow, her face softening. “I remember it all, my dear. How he would always share with us his plans for the dates he’d take you on, how he always took you home at the exact time he promised he would. He was a perfect son, the perfect addition to our small family. And I could never, ever forget how you changed when you met him.”

“I changed?” your brows furrowed, before you shrugged in agreement. “I suppose I have. Being with someone like him… I had to be conscious and aware of everything I did. Do you remember that, Mother? When I begged you to come shopping for clothes for me when you knew I never was interested in any of it?”

Your mother giggled behind her hands.

“I was so happy that day when you asked me to come with you! I thought my sweet girl was finally growing into a mature woman. But that wasn’t the change I was talking about,” she continued, sliding her chair closer to yours. Her palm landed on top of your knee, and she slowly caressed there – just like how she did when you first scraped your knees. And how healing it was, a mother’s tender touch on top of your wounds. It made you want to rip your heart out and shove it between her fingers, to silently beg her to make it all okay.

“…When you met him, you became radiant. In love. You smiled more often, and you opened up a whole new world that the Prince showed you. There wasn’t a day you didn’t speak fondly of him. And you had that look on your face, sweetheart–” she ran a finger down the side of your face, her eyes glistening with tears. You couldn’t understand why she looked so broken. “–it was in your eyes. Everyone could tell how much you loved the Prince.”

You swallowed, the smiles you wore becoming more and more faded. “Mother, I still love him.”

“I know, sweetheart, I can tell,” she cooed. Prying the cup from your hands, she immediately held your hands in hers, her warmth soothing as it seeped through her gloves. “But I also know you’re not happy anymore.”

Your resolve began to crumble.

“Mother…”

Your eyes began to glisten with unshed tears that you struggled to keep at bay. Despite your best effort, the façade of composure slipped. A single tear escaped, trailing a path down your cheek – and just like that – a dam had opened. The door holding your secrets unlocked. It was hard – painfully so – to pretend everything was okay when it was not. You felt like a little child again. A little girl craving her mother’s soothing embrace, and you couldn’t help it – you launched yourself into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her shoulder as your body shook with each sob.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother patted your back. Judging by the way her body quivered under you, she’d been crying, too. “It’s okay, I promise. Please, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t handle seeing you like this.”

“Mother, it’s…” you bit at your lip, trying to muffle the whimpers that passed your lips. “I’m sorry, it’s true. I didn’t want to lie, or have to hide it from you, but Rintaro loves you both a lot and I was afraid you’d hate him–”

“Oh! Oh, my poor baby. Never apologize, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

You clutched her tight, her dress balled into your fists. A part of you told you that you should feel pathetic, that your actions weren’t Princess-like. That Her Majesty would frown at the sight of you and tell you to act your age. But you couldn’t muster the strength, not when your mother’s embrace was the only thing keeping you together – the only thing that told you it was safe enough to fall apart. And so you cried, your tears soaking her dress and the fabric wrinkling under your grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your mother’s sniffles was the last thing you heard before the sound of a fist connecting with skin resounded in the area. Pulling back, you gasped at what you saw.

Rintaro was lying on the ground, your father on top of him. Your father grasped Rintaro by the collar, delivering blow by blow to his face until blood spattered to the grass. Somehow, you managed to scream. The sound was ear-splitting as your heels hit the ground, clutching the ends of your dress as you ran for him. Rintaro wasn’t putting up a fight – his arms limp by his side, his head swaying with each merciless punch on his face.

“Stop!”

“You cheating bastard,” your father glowered, rearing his arm back for one final blow. “How could you do that to my daughter?”

“Father! Please, stop!”

The commotion caused servants to pour from every corner. The guards arrived, pulling your father back by the elbow as he struggled to free from their restraints. Meanwhile, your mother stood beside him – crying and dabbing her handkerchief at his blood knuckles. And you? You fell on the ground, uncaring that the grass had stained your dress, and loomed over your husband. “Rin,” you called out. A low groan was all you received, but it was enough. You breathed out a sigh of relief, immediately calling for the servants to bring some ice and towels.

“Get out of here! You aren’t welcome here anymore!” your father kept kicking and screaming, the sounds of your mother’s pleas falling on deaf ears. “I swear by the Gods your title won’t keep you safe, boy, you will regret it–”

“Get up,” hooking your arm around Rintaro’s elbow, you grunted at his weight. “Rin. Come on. Let’s go.”

Still dazed from being beaten, Rintaro’s legs wobbled underneath him. He groaned, finally wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you limped back to the house. Your father was still a screaming mess, but you knew your mother would calm him down eventually. For now, you needed to tend to his cuts.

You brought Rintaro up to your room. A servant had left an ice pack and some towels there already. Making Rintaro get rid of his bloodied shirt, he changed into one of your father’s – his wince displeased yet left with no choice. Once he’d changed into something clean, he sat at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped and his handsome face bloodied and bruised.

The air was thick with uneasiness in the dimly lit confines of your room.

The soft glow of your candlelight flickered across the ornate furnishings and Rintaro’s wounds. You worked quietly before him, finding there was no need to speak. His face, usually lacking in interest and graced with slow, lackadaisical smiles, was marred by a collection of bruises and cuts.

Your hand trembled slightly as you carefully dabbed a cloth soaked in cool water against a swollen cheek. The Crown Prince, despite his physical pain, looked even more vulnerable under the soft lights – his usual demeanor replaced by quiet resignation.

With delicate movements, you applied salves, ensuring your touch remained tender and soothing. It wouldn’t erase the hurt from his body, but maybe your care would make it ache less. Each gentle stroke of your fingers served as a silent apology for the pain he endured. And the room, filled with the faint scent of healing balms and the soft rustle of fabric, suddenly felt all too intimate.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of the bandages and the soft sighs coming from him. As you finished tending to his wounds, your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like he was that young man from two years ago – fresh-faced, and red-cheeked upon entering a maiden’s room for the first time. He’d been so nervous back then, his hands clammy and drenched with sweat. In reality, that man was just a fragment of who he truly was now – your poor, bruised husband who winced at every tender, caring touch. As if your love wounded him, and cut him in ways he couldn’t heal from.

As if he just waited for that finishing blow to come from you instead, to be his final damnation.

But it never came.

In that fragile moment, Rintaro closed his eyes, leaning into the caress of your palm as it hovered beside his face. This gesture you remembered – of him accidentally cutting his palm open with a letter opener years ago, and when you’d wrapped bandages around his wound. He did the same thing and leaned into your touch, only to kiss the insides of your wrist. He’d looked up at you from under his lashes, his lips full and ready to be kissed. And kiss him you did, because then he’d been yours, and you’d been his.

You didn’t pull away then. You couldn’t pull away now.

Using your thumb to stroke his swollen cheek, you sighed, the sound tired and heavy. “Did you tell my father? Is that why he beat you up?”

“No. We barely spoke during the spar,” he informed, tongue darting out to lick the dried blood off his lips. “But he kept looking over at you and your mother. I reckon he was just waiting for you to reveal the truth eventually,” just then, Rintaro chuckled, wincing when the motion made his cuts split further apart. His smile remained, however, and you drunk his features in – the way he tipped his head to the side, his eyes hooded, with just the barest hint of a playful smile. “You were never a good liar, you know that?”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “On our second date, you told me you didn’t want to watch the movies because you were worried people might crowd us. But it was written all over your face how much you wanted to.”

That, you remembered, as well. You found it impossible how a Prince – a Crown Prince – could simply saunter to the theaters like he was any regular man. He was right; you did want to. You’d never been to the theaters since it was always crowded, and you never did well in the dark. But you soon learned the dark wasn’t so scary when he had his arms wrapped around you. If anything, it felt elating – having the Prince play with your fingers, his gaze never really focusing on the movie.

Rintaro’s jaw clenched, more so in thought. “You always kept things to yourself, always did things for me even when it made you uncomfortable. Was it because I’m the Crown Prince that you felt you couldn’t be honest with me?”

“Not entirely. I guess I was just afraid that if I didn’t do what you liked, then you would lose interest in me.”

“That would never happen,” he interjected, “The moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted to marry.”

The realization dawned on him a little too late. His words carried weight with its double meaning, and he winced. The moment was broken. The thread snapped right in front of your eyes. Pulling away from him, you quickly gathered the bloodied towels and set it aside. You made yourself busy, fully aware of his eyes on you, but you wouldn’t dare look back. You had a feeling that if you did, your mind would run rampant again on the last time he’d been here in your room, when your sheets still smelled like him, and he’d fucked you hard enough on your bed that your bodies left an imprint.

You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry about what my father did.”

“It’s fine. I deserved every punch,” he shrugged it off, then smirked. “Although I’m probably less appealing in your eyes now. Bruised and all. I don’t look very Prince Charming-like.”

You snorted. “Since you wish for my honesty, then I’ll tell you now the whole Prince Charming act never suited you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I liked you better when you finally became more comfortable around me. You weren’t as poetic as when you first started courting me, but you were more… yourself. You were funnier, and a lot more charming when you weren’t trying so hard,” you broke that rule all too easily, and you did look at him. You looked at him, even if you could never see through him. “To me, it felt like I wasn’t dating the Crown Prince at all. I liked the unfiltered version of Suna Rintaro better. The one who enjoyed silences, instead of filling it with flowery words to get my heart fluttering. The one who preferred phone calls over texts because you wanted to hear my voice before going to sleep. The one who I considered my closest friend, the one I knew I wanted to marry, too.”

He was beautiful like this – his shirt hanging loosely at his broad shoulders, his arms slightly leaning back as it dipped with his weight on the mattress. His hair was tousled, the dark locks beautifully framing his face. And his eyes – hazel and more brown than green as the orange ember glows kissed him – were something you could lose yourself in for hours. For forever, even.

Suddenly, you wanted the world to end this way. You wanted time to stop if it meant picturing him like this, frozen and unguarded, beautiful and smelling like your perfume. You would’ve died a happy man if it meant this would be your last moment. With him on your bed, his clothes on your floor, and your ring on his finger.

You yearned for him so badly your body ached.

“Princess,” he mumbled after a pregnant pause, his voice coming out small as he said, “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Who says I don’t?”

The smile you pulled from him is lighthearted; unresevered. “Let me rephrase my question. Why do you still love me?”

Because isn’t that what love is? To know someone’s flaws, and to accept them as who they are? To see all your bad mornings and watch you stumble into the bathroom, clumsy and hazy. To see you at your worst, to choose arguments with you than silence with you. I thought that’s what love meant – to see the ugliness in another and to defy the impulse to turn the other way in search of another, the ‘someone better.’

You don’t tell him that. Instead, you offer another truth. “I wish I knew how to answer that myself.”

“I’m afraid,” Rintaro admitted, voice vulnerable and small. “I fear that one day, your hatred of me will consume you, and you will forget why you ever loved me.”

The candles cast soft shadows off his face, flickering like the fleeting time of the time you had with him. Each flame pulsed with the restless ache in your heart as you recalled the moments of closeness and intimacy that was half-heartedly reciprocated.

Your gaze drifted toward the space where he’d once lain beside you, the indentation in the sheets a painful reminder of the absence that now filled the void. You wanted to tell him you hadn’t changed the sheets since he last slept here. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, he still had his own pair of socks in your drawer, he’d left a wristwatch or two behind. He was here everywhere in your room, even if his heart wasn’t.

And it was so hard – so fucking hard – to accept that he didn’t love you.

Want me, you pleaded silently, at least want me. Just a little bit.

With slow, deliberate steps, your hand rested lightly on the bed’s edge, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric, as if permanently pushing the warmth of his presence back to the bed. Your heart ached with a bittersweet yearning for a heart that was never fully yours, a yearning that clung to you until it wrapped its fingers around your throat.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t leaving. He said he would divorce you, he said it was always going to be her, but he was here – in front of you, in your room. If you dared to reach out a hand and crawl close enough, you could fall into his lap and cradle his head to your chest. And it was exactly that passionate longing that would ruin you – because you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t resist from trailing your fingers up his arm, all the way to his face. His eyes were unreadable; his pupils dilated and his lips pulled apart.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

So you pulled him close. Grabbed him by the collar, and slid yourself into his lap until Rintaro was forced to scoot backwards to balance you both, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You breathed hard, shaking your head at yourself before your forehead knocked with his.

“Rin… Your Highness,” you corrected, rasping out the words. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong, and I know I could never have your heart but could you just – could you please hold me? Just for a minute, please. Pretend that you’re in love with me, I just–” your breath hitched when he squeezed your hips, to stop you or encourage you, you couldn’t tell. “–I just want to feel it again. That happiness I had with you.”

Rintaro hitched you up higher on his lap. Your chest crashed with his, and his lips followed. He tasted of blood and sugary biscuits. His taste, and his scent, flooded your senses until there was nothing to perceive but him.

And the kiss? It isn’t gentle. It isn’t soft. It’s desperate – lips bruising lips, teeth knocking with teeth, and tongues passionately grasping at one another. Your hands fly everywhere after that. Tugging at his hair, grabbing him harder by the collar to deepen the kiss. He swallows every sound you make, breathes them in like he needs them to live. So you give all you can and moan out his name – not Your Highness – and revel in the way he keens. He melts like snowflakes in the heat of your palm, like your touch burns him. You’re seconds away from dragging him back up on the bed when Rintaro suddenly shoves you off him. He flings himself upright and crosses the other side of the room in quick strides, the quick rise and fall of his back facing you the only thing visible from the dimly-lit room.

He didn’t need to say it out loud.

He’d regretted that kiss. Your heart broke once more as you sat at the edge of your bed. His rejection stung, even more so when he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Rintaro was shivering now as his head knocked against the window. Each breath he took seemed labored, as if even the act of drawing air was a struggle against the overwhelming sorrow that enveloped him. The air around him felt dense with the gravity of his internal torment, and your heart sank as you finally voiced out what he could never say out loud –

“…You really don’t love me.”

The silence falling over the room wrapped around the space like a heavy, suffocating shroud. the absence of sound was deafening. It pressed in on the walls and made each breath feel louder. Every creak of the floorboards or distant murmur from the outside was amplified, heavily echoed in the thick air. And when Rintaro finally spoke, it came with a tone of finality and unconcealed regret.

“I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears as you fixed your appearance. “Pardon me for a moment,” you began to exit the room, your hands hovering on the handle before you you’re your decision. “Your Highness… is it okay if I stay here at my parents? It’s just for a few days. I don’t think I can handle returning to the Palace anytime soon.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Rintaro did one final sweep of your room with his eyes. Something unreadable passed over his face. In the next moment, he cleared his throat, and opened the door himself. “I should leave. Goodnight, Princess. Please tell your parents that I left already, and I truly am sorry for the mess I caused.”

Rintaro was gone before you could say anything.

Just before his back disappeared from your line of sight, you saw something you thought you would never witness – Rintaro took two steps at a time on his way down, his frown pronounced as he wiped the tears off his face.

It unfolds like a badly written tragedy.

One moment, Rintaro is standing in the confines of your room, his heart racing with a desperate urgency that pulsed through every fiber of his being. He’d wanted to keep kissing you. Pulling away, and resisting his desire had to be one of the greatest pains he’d experienced, but he had to. He couldn’t keep doing this to you. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

That’s why he had to resort to doing the only thing he could think of in that moment – to run away and leave you behind.

Storming through the stately halls and out the grand doors of your estate, Rintaro pushed through. The weight of his regrets made each step harder to take, a burden that dragged him toward the waiting car parked outside the chill beginning to settle.

He jumped into the vehicle, ignoring his driver’s confused queries before slamming the door shut behind him. Inside, the car felt like a confining cell, its leather seats and polished surface now an inescapable prison of his own making. His hands, trembling with a mix of frustration and despair, gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity.

In a sudden, raw burst of emotion, his fist struck the steering wheel with a deafening thud. The impact reverberated through the car and sent a shiver down his spine.

Still, he kept going – each strike of his fist minimal in comparison to his anguish. He reveled in it, the sharp pain in his knuckles a fleeting distraction from the deeper, more consuming agony that began to eat away at him.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle. The air inside the car felt stifling, thick with the heavy scent of leather and the acrid tang of the remnants of blood at his face. His tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down his face and mingling with the sweat that dampened his brow. In the suffocating silence, his mind raced through a myriad of memories – from when he’d first kissed you, when he first held your hand, and the tender embraces he held you in.  Each memory served to remind him of what he had now – nothing but a fractured connection, a strained marriage, and your fragile heart which he couldn’t protect.

Each image passing through his mind were tinged with bitterness. He recalled the warmth of your presence, the way your smile could light up the room, and the feeling of your hand in his.

He wished he could take it all back – to start from the beginning, to re-introduce himself to who he truly was. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was too late.

He’d gotten Iris pregnant.

Rintaro hadn’t mean to. Sure, he was careless and never used protection, but he thought little of it. Iris’ cycles were irregular and they never worried if she missed her period. She was always on the pill – all because of him, since Kiyoomi wouldn’t have touched her anyway. In another lifetime, Rintaro might’ve felt happy. Instead, he was filled with crushing dread. He couldn’t be a father, he didn’t want to be like his father.

And why hadn’t she told him? All this time… he foolishly thought she’d began ignoring him because it was a mutual, unspoken feeling that they’d just gotten tired. He never handled the media’s criticism well, and Iris wasn’t any better. She cared about her image and reputation more than anything – so why hide this from him? If he had known sooner…

What? his mind taunted, What would you do if you knew sooner?

Rintaro’s head dropped to the steering wheel. The voice in his head was right. He wouldn’t have done anything. Had he known four months ago, he would’ve celebrated. Had he known two months ago, he would’ve been upset, but choose to take responsibility in the end. But now? Now his decision was clear. Without giving it a second thought, Rintaro pulled out of your driveway and headed straight for the palace, dialing Iris on his way.

She picked up on the third ring.

“So it’s true,” he spoke to the phone, driving past the other cars on the highway in full speed. He should drive more carefully, but his blood was pumping loud in his veins – your touch lit a fire in him, and he needed that fire stoked. “You’re pregnant.”

A pause came from the other line. “How did you know?”

Rintaro gripped the steering wheel tighter, glaring at the phone even if she couldn’t see. “You’re heartless, Iris. How could you let my wife find out about it first before I did? Why did she have to tell me?”

“She told you – what? I never planned on letting you know about it, Rintaro. I don’t even know how she found out!”

“What, you were going to use that baby against me? Is that what you planned?” he growled at her, “You’re not keeping that damned baby – you’re getting rid of it right now. I’m not letting you fuck up my marriage.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it anyway! You’re absolutely insane if you think I’m planning to give birth to your filthy child–”

“Shut up!”

Rintaro ended the call. He’d had enough of her and her greediness. How dare she keep something like that from him, aborting his child before he even knew of its existence?

He stepped harder on the gas.

The engine roared in defiant response to his intense, almost reckless driving, its powerful growl a stark contrast to the stifling silence that enveloped the car. The air inside the car was thick with the acrid scent of tension and frustration, each breath he took feeling heavier and more labored as he fought to keep his rage contained.

His thoughts raced with the echoes of the argument, each harsh word and biting remark replaying in his mind like a relentless loop. The sting of her anger gnawed at him, fueling the fire of his own resentment. The images of her face, twisted in frustration, seemed to haunt the darkened windows of the car. Iris seemed to do that often – haunting him both in his dreams and a nightmare.

Rintaro couldn’t fathom why it was too late when he realized she’d never been a good person to begin with.

She was never his friend.

She only approached him because Rintaro was malleable. He was a blank canvas of a man, a lost Prince. He was nothing but an experimental toy for her. She’d kissed him, stolen his heart, and fed him lies that she’d give him what he wanted if he did what she liked. And he did – every fucking time. He drunk himself wasted, because Iris didn’t like drinking alone. He smoked packs of cigarettes for her even when he hated the taste of nicotine, because Iris got antsy without smoking. He fucked her hard and deep, and spent countless nights in her bed, because her husband never wanted to touch her. And what did he get in return?

Fake smiles. Sarcastic, mocking comments. A dry reply from his enthusiastic texts. A quick, good fuck if they were bored enough.

Iris never wanted him. She only ever wanted one thing: security. And when she was married to a Prince, and had another wrapped around her finger? She could do no wrong in the eyes of the throne.

As he drove, the powerful beams of the headlights cast fleeting shadows across the road.

The palace loomed ahead, its silhouette a distant promise of refuge that seemed increasingly out of reach. The anger that coursed through him was a force unto itself, a seething urge that refused to be quelled.

As he approached the grand gates of the palace, his emotions were spilling all over the place. He only had one place in mind: Belleview Manor.

Rounding a corner in the dimly lit hallway of the palace, Rintaro came to an abrupt halt. The reaction of his body was instantaneous: his breath caught in his throat, his muscles locking into place. Before him stood the Queen, her regal presence magnified by the soft, flickering light of the sconces lining the walls. Her silhouette, framed by the rich, opulent draped and the gleaming marble floors, seemed almost otherworldly.

She stood there, unmoving, like she’d somehow known he would be coming any minute now.

Rintaro’s head pounded in his chest. Cold dread washed over him, an icy hand clutching at his insides. The Queen’s serene yet inscrutable expression was nothing but an act, that he knew. In reality, her expressions were alien and foreboding. Her eyes, deceptively warm and reassuring, stared back at him like dark abysses, their depth hinting at the hidden complexities and secrets Rintaro had never cared to consider before.

He felt as if the ground beneath him had shifted, his already unstable world rocked by the revelation of a hidden side to his mother that he never perceived.

He stood frozen, a tangible sense of fear and anger enveloping him as he confronted the unsettling truth: the queen, his mother, was a mystery he had never fully unraveled.

The secrets she harbored, once a vague notion in the back of his mind, now loomed large and menacing, casting a long shadow over his perception of her. The fear that gripped him was profound and disorienting, a jarring contrast to the reverence he had always felt. His whole life, he’d only wanted one thing – to please his mother, to make her proud, to be a Queen’s son worthy of becoming the next King. His whole life he’d only done what he was told.

But in that moment, he was consumed by the chilling realization that the mother he had known and loved was a stranger, and the weight of her concealed truths left him trembling with a profound, unsettling fear.

“You,” he breathed out, his fear now overtaken by his sight going red. He felt mocked, humiliated, used. “Why did you never tell me?”

The memory of that night on the beach was seared into his mind.

He could never forget it – Iris’ sneer, the way her lips curled in contempt, as though he were something beneath her. Her words had cut deep, bleeding into his every being until the truth pounded at his veins. She had looked at him with disdain, her eyes cold and unfeeling, as she spat out how she’d never wanted to be with him, how she’d used him to cure her loneliness. A rejection born from a sick, twisted confession.

And now that he’d fulfilled his purpose in the bleakness of her world, he was nothing more than a disposable distraction. She’d called him worthless, a joke, someone unworthy of her attention – a prince in name but never in her eyes. The wind had whipped around him, cloaked around him like a glacial storm, but it was her biting words that had left him feeling exposed and small.

She’d delivered a stab to his heart that no amount of time could erase.

I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.

Didn’t you know, Rin?

You were never the King’s son.