#enjoy the thought of these two existing at the same time

[writingpandagoth]

Good Evening,

I absolutely love your work and wanted to ask if you have heard of the fan fiction writing topic called Hanahaki Disease? I’ve never seen a take with Severus Snape x reader. I’m wondering if you’d be interested writing this scenario. The reader has hanahaki because she is falling in love with Severus Snape. Something emotionally intense but with a happy ending. Let me know what you think?

Have a blessed day!

The way I SCREAMED when I read your request!!

I absolutely love the Hanahaki Disease storylines!

This was soo much fun to write I hope it makes somehow sense and you enjoy!❤️

Breath Between Blossoms

The war had left behind a quiet sort of devastation. Not the explosive kind, but something heavier—like dust on furniture long untouched. And in the wake of that silence, Hogwarts reopened, a little more fractured, a little more solemn, but still standing.

So were you.

You arrived in September with a battered suitcase and a new title: Professor. Defense Against the Dark Arts, to be specific—though you weren’t sure the title fit. You’d fought, yes. You’d survived. But teaching? That felt more dangerous than battle some days.

You weren’t expecting friendship, least of all from him.

Severus Snape was already a legend of sorts—half myth, half ghost. He had died, they said. Or nearly. Then come back. A hero, in quiet terms. The sort of man whose bravery was discussed in low voices, always followed by “but he’s still a bastard.”

And he was. But not to you.

Not at first, anyway.

It started with shared silence. Faculty meetings where you’d both sit at the far end of the table, offering no more than a nod. You didn’t try to make conversation. He didn’t try to avoid you. That was the extent of it—until the staff lounge incident.

You were grading essays late—curse theory, dry and full of teenage arrogance—when Snape walked in, a book in one hand and a tea mug in the other. He stopped mid-step, clearly not expecting company.

You offered a stiff smile. “I’ll leave.”

He raised a brow. “It’s a communal space, not my personal sanctuary.”

You blinked at him. He crossed the room and sat.

The silence that followed was… companionable, in an odd way. Two people existing in the same space without demand. A rare thing.

That became routine. You didn’t plan it. But somehow, every Wednesday evening, you both ended up there. Him with his tea and endless volumes on obscure magical theory. You with your essays and a tendency to mutter insults at poorly-written arguments.

The first time you made him laugh, you thought you'd imagined it.

One of your students had written that “the best way to deal with a Boggart was to hit it with a chair.” You said it aloud without thinking.

From the other side of the room: a short, startled huff. Almost a laugh.

You looked up. Snape’s lips twitched as he turned a page.

“Creative,” he murmured. “If deeply stupid.”

Your smile lingered longer than it should have.

It took weeks before the rhythm turned into real conversation. He was guarded, yes, but not unkind. He asked questions. Sharp ones. Listened closely to your answers. He never offered compliments, but sometimes he would pause after something you said, eyes narrowing slightly—like he was impressed but too stubborn to say so.

And you found yourself seeking those pauses.

You started noticing things. The way he drank his tea—too strong, no sugar. The faint streaks of silver in his hair. The way his voice softened slightly when discussing certain students, though he’d deny it if asked.

You caught yourself lingering outside the dungeons after staff meetings, hoping he might walk with you. Sometimes he did. Most times he didn’t. But the few times he did, you felt it.

The shift.

And it scared you.

Because somewhere between sarcastic commentary and side-eyed glances, between library arguments and quiet tea, your admiration grew roots. And roots, you knew, were dangerous things.

The night it truly hit you was unremarkable, at least on the surface. You had been complaining about a seventh-year who tried to use a Stunning Spell during a practical on disarming charms. Snape had rolled his eyes and said,

“At least he didn’t hit you with a chair.”

You laughed, loud, real. And he smiled—barely, but it was there.

It was small. It was everything.

Later that night, you couldn’t sleep. Your chest ached in a way that wasn’t quite physical. It wasn’t anxiety. It wasn’t fear. It was…

Love. Quiet. Blooming.

You sat up in bed, hand pressed to your heart—and coughed.

It was soft at first, but relentless. You staggered to your bathroom, thinking maybe you’d caught a cold, maybe the castle’s chill had finally sunk in.

You barely registered the wetness on your lip before you looked down.

A single white petal sat in your palm. Frilled edges, delicate veins. It glistened faintly in the candlelight.

No.

Your blood ran cold. You coughed again. A second petal joined the first.

No, no, no.

Hanahaki.

You’d heard of it. Everyone had. A tragic curse, a romantic horror story. Flowers blooming in lungs, fed by one-sided love. Slow and painful. Sometimes curable. Often fatal.

You told yourself it was a fluke. Maybe a transfigured ingredient from your classroom. Maybe a prank from a student. Maybe—

But you knew.

In the silence of your quarters, with flower petals in your hand and Severus Snape’s face in your mind, you knew.

You were in love.

And it was going to kill you.

—

Severus didn’t change much after the war. His sharp tongue remained, his silences just as heavy but around you, something had begun to shift. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sudden. It was in the small things—his dry quips softened at the edges, his voice lowering when he asked after your day, his willingness to listen without biting back.

He brought you tea once after a staff meeting left you with a migraine. He didn’t comment when you looked at him longer than you meant to, only tilted his head slightly, like he was used to being observed but not minding this time. He began co-teaching a few sixth-year lessons, and even when you were certain he could’ve done other things, he didn’t seem to mind helping you. If anything, he waited for you to ask him again.

It was the kind of friendship that crept up without permission. Gentle, unspoken, steady. And every quiet laugh, every shared glance across the staff table, made it worse.

The petals began to come faster.

At first, you’d only cough at night, smothering the sound into a pillow, hand shaking as you wiped away pale, delicate petals. But it didn’t take long before the disease became bolder, less willing to wait. Soon you were stifling coughs during your lectures, casting quick cleaning spells beneath your desk. You carried handkerchiefs charmed to dissolve evidence. You stopped wearing light-colored clothing.

The flowers were no longer soft things. They tore their way out now—thicker, bruised at the edges, stained with blood. Each time you saw Severus, they grew more twisted. Each small kindness from him was another root tightening inside you.

But you didn’t want to stop seeing him.

You still passed him in the halls, nodded in your usual way. You still sat beside him at staff meetings when you could manage it, tried to hold steady when his knee brushed against yours beneath the table. You joined him once more in the staff lounge, though you avoided his eyes most of the time, afraid he might see too much.

You told yourself you could manage it. That it wasn’t as bad as it felt.

One evening, alone in your quarters, you staggered to the bathroom and caught your reflection in the mirror. Your skin was too pale. Your lips had lost their color. You pressed your palms to the sink just as the fit began—your body wrenching forward, mouth spilling petals into porcelain.

Blood followed.

You dropped to your knees and gasped for breath, feeling the burn along your ribs as if the flowers were curling into bone. When it passed, you stayed there a long time, cheek pressed to the cold tile, too exhausted to cry.

You hadn’t told a soul.

The next day, Severus handed you a worn copy of Advanced Hex Theory and said, in that low voice of his, that a recent lecture of yours reminded him of a passage. You took the book with trembling hands and smiled too brightly. He blinked at you, as if trying to place the shift in your expression, the tightness in your shoulders.

You turned quickly, walking away, but a cough burst free before you could make it to the stairs. You covered it with a fake laugh.

“Wrong tea leaf this morning,” you offered. “Choked on it.”

“You’re ill,” he said, not unkindly, but flatly. Observing. As if the fact had just landed for him.

“No. Just tired.” You forced another smile. “Hogwarts air is practically toxic. I’m adjusting.”

He watched you for a second too long, something unreadable in his eyes.

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You lasted another week before you went to Madam Pomfrey.

She took one look at you and her face fell. She didn’t need to ask. The petals in your hand said enough.

“Oh, my dear…”

“Please,” you whispered. “Don’t tell anyone.”

She was summoning diagnostic spells with barely controlled urgency. When the spell's green glow passed over your chest, she sucked in a breath.

“I need you to promise me.”

A long silence.

“It’s spread quite a lot,” she said quietly, almost afraid to confirm it aloud. She sighed. “I’ll do what I can to slow it. But you must understand—if this continues, and he does not return your feelings…”

“I know,” you said. You didn’t cry. You were too tired to cry.

“You need help. Rest won't help. You need to tell—”

“I’m not telling Severus.” Your voice cracked like dry glass.

Her gaze sharpened. “So it is him.”

You didn’t answer but you didn't have to.

She gave you a strong suppressants. Spoke in a gentler tone than usual.

“You’re running out of time. If you won’t confess, you must consider surgical extraction.”

You whispered, “I can’t lose the feeling.”

Even if it was killing you, it was still yours. Still real.

Pomfrey didn’t argue. She only touched your shoulder and said, “Then you need to be prepared to say goodbye.”

--

You stopped going to the staff lounge.

It wasn’t intentional—not at first. One week, you told yourself you were too tired. The next, you claimed you had too much grading. By the third, your absence became habit. Avoidance masquerading as self-preservation.

Because every time you looked at him, the pain in your chest surged.

The petals had come again. Not many—just one or two at a time—but enough to remind you. Each time you saw his name on the staff schedule, each conversation in the corridor, each dry remark from across the Great Hall… the ache deepened.

The flowers were feeding off you now.

Your body had become a garden of secrets.

The suppressant Pomfrey gave you helped, for a while. Made the coughing less frequent. Let you walk the halls without feeling like your chest was collapsing. But the petals still came. Smaller now, delicate. You almost convinced yourself that meant you were getting better.

You weren’t.

You started avoiding meals in the Great Hall. You kept your office door locked. You began arriving late to meetings, leaving early. Still, you couldn’t avoid him entirely.

“Professor,” he said one morning, stepping into your classroom just as you were wiping blood from the inside of your sleeve.

You startled, heart slamming.

He frowned. “You look pale.”

You laughed—dry, forced. “Occupational hazard.”

He didn’t smile. “You’ve been absent.”

“I’ve been busy.”

His eyes searched your face, unreadable. “You shouldn’t isolate yourself. It’s not healthy.”

You almost choked on the irony.

“Thank you for the medical advice,” you said, voice tight.

He left without another word.

You collapsed into your chair once the door closed, biting your sleeve to muffle the cough that came after. Three petals. One stained with red.

The turning point came in the library.

You were searching for a book on magical illness triggers, your mind foggy with exhaustion. You didn’t hear him until he was beside you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Severus said, voice quiet.

You froze.

He looked tired too—dark circles beneath his eyes, jaw tense. “If I’ve done something to offend—”

“You haven’t,” you cut in. Too fast. Too sharp.

He paused. “Then why—”

“I just need space, Severus. Please.”

It was the first time you’d ever called him that aloud. His name. No title. Just him.

It stunned him into silence.

You left before he could respond.

That night, you coughed until your vision blurred. A handful of petals. Blood pooling in your throat. You collapsed beside your bed, trembling.

You didn’t sleep.

--

In the days that followed, you slipped even further into the routine of pretending.

You stopped eating regularly. Your clothes hung looser. You developed a quiet tremor in your hands and passed it off as stress. You spent more time at your desk than in your bed, coughing into scarves and praying no one knocked on the door at the wrong time.

The suppressants didn't work anymore but you didn't expected them to.

One afternoon, you were already in the staff lounge when Severus arrived. You hadn’t expected anyone else to come in. You were curled in the chair closest to the fireplace, head aching from the morning’s lecture, your throat raw.

He sat across from you and studied you in silence.

“You’ve been distant even more so” he said after a long pause.

“I just been tired.”

“Liar,” he replied, not with venom, but quiet certainty.

You shrugged, barely looking up.

“You’re pale. You’re thinner. Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t look like yourself.”

You stared into your tea. “You wouldn’t know.”

Silence stretched between you. Then, in a tone softer than you’d ever heard from him: “I notice more than you think.”

You couldn’t speak. Your hands tightened in your lap, willing your body to stay calm, to not betray you in that moment.

He stood slowly. “If you need something just—say it.”

And then he left, the weight of his words settling heavy in your chest.

You pulled out a handkerchief the moment the door shut and coughed until your ribs screamed.

The petals were crimson now.

You didn’t know how close the edge was, but you could feel something in your body giving way. Your magic was duller. Your steps heavier. You hadn’t dreamed in days—just flashes of heat, darkness, and the sound of your own lungs drowning in silence.

That's why you showed up again.

You sat beside him at meetings. You walked the same halls. You listened when he spoke and smiled when he looked at you like he didn’t want to look away.

Because you loved him. And that was the truth that bloomed brightest beneath your skin. Whether he ever knew or not.

You would stay near him until the very end.

Even if it shattered you completely.

—

You’d felt the shift the day before it happened. The coughing no longer brought fragments, but full, choking blooms—petals fused together, heavy and wet. It was like drowning from the inside out. Your chest ached constantly now, a dull pressure behind your sternum that no potion could ease.

You stood in front of your classroom, words coming slower than usual, wand heavier in your hand. The blackboard was half-full with chalk notes you could barely read. Your students were watching—most of them too tired to care, a few whispering behind their textbooks.

You tried to ignore the way your hands shook.

You told yourself: Just a few more minutes. Just get through the lecture. Then rest.

But your body was done pretending.

Your lungs spasmed mid-sentence. You gasped—one, short breath—and then dropped your wand.

The first flower came up whole.

It hit your desk with a soft, wet thud. White. A full lily, bent under its own weight.

Someone laughed—thinking it was a trick.

Then you coughed again, harder, doubled over as more flowers spilled from your mouth.

Lilies, Forget-me-nots and Chrysanthemum.

Your knees buckled. The room erupted in noise.

“Professor—?!” “Are you—?” “Someone get help!”

You tried to stand, tried to speak—but your body crumpled sideways, hitting the floor with a hollow crack. flowers scattered across the stone. One student screamed. Another froze in place, eyes wide with terror.

You heard nothing after that.

Only your own heartbeat. Faint. Slowing.

Then—nothing at all.

—

The sound of your body hitting the floor had students go wild. Some of them yelled out terrified alerting everyone.

By the time Professors arrived—wand half-raised, voice cracking with concern—your classroom was in complete chaos. A dozen wide-eyed students pressed against the walls. Others stared at the mess near the front: Flowers scattered all over the floor. Blood. Too much blood.

You lay motionless. One hand curled inward like a fallen petal.

Minerva who had arrived first tried to calm the students down. Flitwick was trying to keep students back while Sprout stared at the flowers in horror.

Severus pushed through the door and past students last trying to make sense of the chaos.

“What is going on?” he demanded, his voice too calm, steady.

Before anyone could say something, he saw it.

The flowers. The blood.

You.

For one awful, suspended moment, he didn’t move. His breath caught in his chest at the sight.

Then after what felt like years:

“Out of the way,” Pomfrey barked. “I need space.”

The second she was at your side, she cast a stabilizing charm, eyes narrowed in silent panic. Her hands moved quickly, checking for breath, for pulse, for any sign of what magic still lived in you.

“Severus,” she said without looking up, “I need you to carry her for me.”

He still stood frozen staring down at you.

"Severus! Now!" Pomfrey turned back to look at him.

He didn’t speak but he stepped forward, knees bending as he reached down and gathered you into his arms.

His jaw was tight as he turned, robes sweeping behind him as he followed Pomfrey out of your classroom.

The hallways were still as he carried you through them—every footstep a strike against the stone, your limp head resting just below his collarbone. A few professors emerged from their classrooms, stunned by the sight: Severus Snape, pale and expressionless, walking fast and silent with your unconscious body in his arms, blood on his sleeve and petals tangled in your hair.

He didn’t meet their eyes.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop.

When Pomfrey shut the Hospital Wing doors behind them, she cast the strongest privacy ward she knew.

Severus placed you on the bed without a word. He stood there longer than necessary, staring down at you like he couldn’t make the shape of your face mean anything logical.

Pomfrey moved around him briskly, casting diagnostic spells and muttering under her breath.

“She’s been coughing for months,” she finally said, her voice lower now. “Stubborn girl didn’t come until it was already advanced.”

Severus turned sharply. “Months?”

Pomfrey nodded once, tight-lipped.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” His tone sharpened.

“She didn't want me to and I honored that. As you would have.”

He went quiet. Not because he agreed. Because she was right.

His eyes dropped back to you. Your chest barely moved.

He swallowed. “Who?”

Pomfrey hesitated.

“Poppy,” he said, low and dangerous.

She looked up. “I don’t know.”

“You just said—”

“I said she’s been sick for months. Not who caused it.”

He stepped closer to her, his voice rough. “You know.”

“She asked me not to tell. I gave her my word.”

He turned away, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of you so still and braced a hand on the wall. His knuckles were white.

“How long did she feel like this?” he asked, quieter now.

“A long time,” she said softly. “Long enough that she didn’t think she’d survive it.”

When she left the room, he stayed behind. Staring at the basin of withered flowers. The deep creases in the bedsheets. The shape of your mouth slack with sleep, but wrong—like life had forgotten where to rest.

He sat.

Then stood.

Then sat again.

And he began to think.

Who was it?

Who had let you get this far gone?

Flashes of memory returned in cruel detail—your smiles, your silences. The times you brushed off questions. The way you stopped looking him in the eye.

He hadn’t thought to ask, not really. You’d been pulling away, yes—but not enough to worry him. Not enough to make him believe this.

Now he traced back every step of your unraveling and wondered how much of it he’d seen—and chosen to ignore.

He imagined you in love with someone else.

A faceless man. Another professor. A ghost from the war. A letter tucked into your drawer that wasn’t his.

The thought of it—of you wasting away for someone who didn’t see you—turned his stomach.

And yet, he never once allowed the idea that it could be him.

Because if it was

He had failed you worse than anyone ever had.

--

Severus didn’t sleep.

He sat beside your bed through the night, then through the morning, then into the gray stretch of day that followed. Hours bled into each other, marked only by the soft ticking of the clock above the infirmary door and the slower, shallower rise and fall of your chest.

Each time he looked at you, he catalogued something new—how your hands lay unmoving atop the sheets, how your cheeks had hollowed. How even now, flowers still bloomed from your mouth in your sleep. Fewer, but full. Fragrant. Silent.

Pomfrey came and went. She said very little. Sometimes she would pull petals and flowers carefully out of your throat that didn't come out themselves. Each one bloody.

He crushed one between trembling fingers. The stem was still warm.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to go back. To the first moment he noticed your laugh. To the first cup of tea. To the goddamn hex theory book he’d left on your desk. He wanted to undo every polite exchange, every flicker of softness he let slip through. He wanted to unmake himself entirely if it meant sparing you this.

But the truth was he didn’t know how to save you.

He didn’t know how to save anything.

He tried to reason through it. To calculate, to deduce, like any other problem he’d ever solved.

Who had your eyes lingered on in the staffroom?

Who did you sit next to, besides him?

Had there been letters? A Visitor? A ghost from the war?

He would have handed you over without protest. He would have let you go.

He hated every scenario. And in each one, he imagined what it would take to pull that love from you, to make it his—if only long enough to save your life.

But the fear—the unbearable, brutal fear—was that there was no one who could save you.

That's when realization hit him. That you had chosen solitude. Silence.

That you’d rather die than burden someone with your feelings.

That was what finally shattered him.

Pomfrey tried to argue that he needed rest but he didn’t leave. He folded himself into the chair beside the bed like a man bracing for war and stayed there, unmoving, staring at you like if he just concentrated hard enough, he could will you back.

Pomfrey gave up after the third attempt to make him leave and walked out the infirmary with quiet grief and closed the door behind her.

You looked almost peaceful. Pale. Cold. A silver basin beside the bed held half a dozen wilted lilies.

“Fool,” he whispered, voice raw. “You foolish woman.”

His hand hovered near yours but didn’t touch it.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve told me.”

His voice cracked.

“You don’t even know. Do you?” His gaze flicked to your face. “You don’t know how I looked for you in every damned corridor this week. How I kept trying to convince myself you were fine—when I could see you falling apart.”

He stopped. Shook his head.

“Who is it?” he asked you, even though you couldn’t answer. “Who did you fall for that was worth this? Worth dying for?”

Silence.

“I—I wish it were me,” he said, quieter now. “But I told myself that was arrogance. That it was better if it isn't. That if it was someone else, I could live with that.”

He looked at you again, all that control unraveling.

“You should’ve told him,” he said. “Whoever it is. You should’ve said something. Let him choose. Let him try.”

He looked at you like you might wake. Like you might argue. But you stayed still. He finally reached for your hand letting the silence hold for a long time.

He bowed his head and gripped your hand tighter.

“If it were me…” he said, eyes shining with something he hadn’t let out in years, “If it were me… I wouldn’t have turned away.” 

His voice cracked.

“I would’ve kissed you in the staff lounge. I would’ve told you how impossible you make it to concentrate in meetings. I would’ve stopped pretending I didn’t feel everything you made me feel.”

He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper now, breaking under the weight of it.

“I love you. I love you and I should have said it weeks ago. Months. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t see it. I’m sorry I let you carry this alone.“

He exhaled, trembling. Pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes.

“I’m not a good man,” he said quietly. “But I would’ve loved you well.”

No answer.

He looked up again—and something inside him snapped.

“Merlin, please,” he whispered, leaning forward. “Don’t leave me, just give me something. Anything.”

Your chest stilled.

He leaned closer. Panic setting deep into his bones.

“You can’t do this!” he said. “You don’t get to carry all of this and die with it. You don’t get to choose silence over life.”

No breath. No movement.

“Come back,” he begged. “Even if it’s not me. Even if you wake up and say someone else’s name.”

He touched your cheek, gently. Cold.

“I’ll find them for you. I’ll give you the chance to tell them. I’ll—”

His voice broke and a sob forced its way out of his chest. 

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, fingers gripping the blanket as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer force of will. His forehead pressed to the back of your cold hand.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

The words slipped out like a prayer, like a curse. His grip tightened. holding on with everything he had left.

“You can’t—” His voice cracked. “Don’t go without ever knowing how much you mean to me. Without letting me say it sooner. I was too slow. I always am.”

He bent lower, shoulders trembling now, as if years of restraint had collapsed under the weight of one final loss.

His hands slid from the blanket to your arm, wrapping gently, pulling you closer like he could will warmth back into you.

“Don’t do this,” he begged, voice splintering. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me with this. Wondering what it could’ve been.”

His head bowed low beside yours.

“I would’ve loved you,” he whispered. “I do. I love you. Please wake up so I can tell you. You still deserve to hear it. You deserve to know.”

His body shook with the effort of holding everything in — the grief, the guilt, the sheer terror of knowing what it meant if you didn’t come back.

“I can’t lose you,” he said again, broken. “Please, just stay. Just—stay.”

Silence.

And then—

A sound. Soft. Barely audible.

A breath.

At first, he didn’t realize what it was. He was too deep in the ache of it, too lost in the grief pressing hard into his ribs. But then you inhaled again—sharper, steadier—and his head snapped up.

Your chest moved. Your lips parted in a weak gasp.

Severus froze.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched, terrified that if he blinked, it would stop again.

Then your head turned ever so slightly, your brow furrowing like you were trying to pull yourself out of something deep, something dark.

And then—

“…Severus?”

Barely audible. More breath than voice. Fragile.

He flinched like he’d been struck.

His eyes met yours—just barely open, hazy, searching—and all the breath he’d held for what felt like a lifetime left him in one broken exhale.

“Don’t ever…” he whispered. His voice cracked. “Don’t ever do that again.”

You blinked slowly, confused. “What… happened?”

He choked on a sound that was almost a laugh, almost a sob. One hand rose to your cheek, thumb trembling against your skin like he didn’t quite trust you were real.

“You nearly died,” he said. “You—Merlin, I thought it’s too late.”

You tried to breathe again — slower this time, steadier. Your lungs ached, but the pain was different now. Less sharp. Like the roots had loosened.

Your voice came soft, fractured. “You were here?”

“I didn’t leave,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t.”

You looked at him, at the way his hand shook in yours, at the tears he didn’t bother to hide. And then—something clicked.

“I’m awake,” you murmured, the words more breath than voice, “and I’m breathing… and you’re here…”

You stared at him, the weight of it landing all at once.

“You love me,” you whispered, like the words didn’t feel real until they left your mouth. „You love me back…“

He just looked at you stunned. Wide-eyed and then he realized.

His breath caught. His eyes flicked down to your lips, to the edge of the basin beside the bed still holding the last of the flowers.

“It was me…” he echoed, barely able to get the words out. “You were dying… for me?”

You didn’t answer.

More tears fell from his eyes and his voice cracked open completely.

“All this time,” he whispered. “You were in love with...me?”

You gave a small nod, and the movement alone nearly broke him.

He looked away, ashamed. “I told myself it would never be me wondering who...”

He turned back to you, devastation softening into wonder.

“And all I kept wishing was that it was me… so that when I said ‘I love you,’ it might save you.”

“you did” you said.

Those two words undid him.

He leaned in and kissed you.

No hesitation. No regret.

It was shaky. Gentle. Real.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead to yours. His voice trembled.

“I love you,” he said again, like a promise. “I’m here. My love. All of it. It’s always been yours. I promise I will never stop saying it.”

You exhaled against him. Eyes closing. Chest steady.

And this time, when you breathed there were no petals. No flowers.

Only air.

And him.

And love, finally spoken.

—

You didn’t remember falling asleep again, only waking to the soft sound of a chair creaking and the unmistakable scent of something herbal — not medicinal, but familiar.

The sun had sunk low, painting golden lines across the stone floor, and the castle had grown quiet in the way it only did after something awful had passed — like the whole place was exhaling.

You lay curled under the blanket that smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment, every part of your body still sore. But not in pain. Not dying.

Just recovering.

And Severus was beside you.

He hadn’t left. Especially since you’d woken.

He sat sideways in the chair, legs stretched out in front of him, one hand still holding yours like he hadn’t decided yet whether or not to let go. Like he might wake up and find you gone again.

You turned your head slowly toward him. “You’re still here.”

He looked down at you. “Obviously.”

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Eaten?”

“Not hungry.”

You gave him a look. He gave you one right back.

“I nearly lost you,” he said simply, like that explained everything. And it did.

You stared at him for a long moment, thumb brushing against his fingers.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to hear you say it,” you whispered. “That you love me.”

He swallowed. His voice dropped low.

“I said it to you after...I regretted not telling you sooner”

“I know.” Your smile was small. Real. “I think… part of me heard you.”

He didn’t say anything — just watched you for a moment like you were something fragile and sacred all at once. Then, cautiously, he stood and leaned forward to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

Your hand didn’t leave his.

“I would’ve said it sooner,” he murmured, “but I was too bloody terrified.”

You turned your face slightly into his palm. “Of what?”

“Of believing you could never love me back,” he said. “And of what it would do to me if you didn't”

You were quiet, and then: “I know that fear.”

His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “You nearly died with it in your chest.”

“And you brought me back.”

“That was your doing,” he said. “I only… answered.”

You shifted slightly, enough to lean into him. He let you, slowly lowering himself beside you until you were tucked against his chest. His arms moved around you with careful precision — like he wasn’t sure where you were still breakable.

“You’re allowed to hold me like I’m real,” you said.

He exhaled a breath against your hair. “You are.”

That night, you fell asleep in his arms.

No more silence kept between you.

No more secrets blooming beneath your ribs.

And in the hush between heartbeats, where breath once failed—

Love lived instead.

[foreverromanticising]

renegade | ln4

(8) a phone call from zak reminds lando of his reality that he had been trying so hard to run from

lando norris x fem!reader | 1.9k words | a still perfect summer with lando norris

(a little bit of a shorter chapter however very heavy in content that took me a little longer to write - pls enjoy and send me all ur thoughts! alsoooooo after this we have two chapters left, ten in total, before i move onto the next lando pic so pls!! stick around for that)

(also!! reminder this fic is based off of renegade by big red machine and taylor… lmk if u can see the cracks and similarities)

masterlist<3

Resentfully so, Lando peeled his body away from yours, a mix of bare skin and white sheets, and began getting ready for the day. Memories of the night before returned to him in the form of a pink flush dusting over his cheeks every time he caught a glimpse of your naked skin, almost taunting him from the way you laid across the bed. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the bed again, to get under your skin and drag his lips across every inch of your body. 

But a phone call from Zak that morning, high-pitched and blaring as it his phone rang from his bedside table. He found himself thanking his lucky stars that you merely stirred in your sleep and cuddled closer towards his pillow once he slipped out of the bed beside you. Though, he had to fight a smirk from forcing its way onto his face once he picked up the phone over the thought of why you were so tired from the night before. The ache in his legs was reminder enough as he tried to keep some sort of composure as he spoke to Zak.

It was a minor phone call, a meaningless chat if anything, but it left Lando reeling. A quick discussion about some upgrades to the car for after the summer break, some reminders about training, and another gentle - though, usual - reminder from Zak that he wanted Lando to stay in check; keeping being responsible. It was the same speech from Zak after every sort of break that Lando would be away from racing - begging him to stay in line, a reminder he was doing well, and to keep PR in mind at all times.

Truly, the phone call wasn’t the worst Lando had ever had from his boss - Kingsday only a few months ago left a sour taste in his mouth when he recalled the messages he woke up to after his so called ‘PR disaster,’. But, Lando hadn’t been expecting it. He had had the morning planned out in his head as he wanted a slow and sultry wake up call with you in his arms. Instead, he woke with a panic and his heart racing far too quick for his liking.

It started his whole day off wrong, he didn’t want to think about anything to do with racing when the was in Greece. He wanted to be with you, with his friends, under the Grecian sun and pretend he wasn’t a Formula One driver. So far, he had been successful in doing so - albeit, he faced a blip after seeing Charles and Carlos - but he was happy.

You helped him bathe in this fantasy of his. You had no idea he was Lando Norris, Mclaren Formula One racer, you knew him as Lando - or Lan as he preferred. You knew Lando as the boy who refused suncream and had the tastebuds of a child, the boy who drove maybe a bit too fast for the backroads, and who picked you out the shiniest of shells from the sea because they reminded him of you - ‘the prettiest shells for his pretty girl’. You didn’t expect anything of him, you weren’t questioning his every move after a race, and you couldn’t have cared less about his championship standings. 

Partly because you still didn’t know that side of Lando existed, and he had every intention of keeping it that way in order to maintain his peace. 

Lando kept Zak on the phone whilst he got ready for the day, absentmindedly agreeing to everything he said whilst his mind drifted off to how you two would spend the rest of the day. He was becoming acutely aware of how your time together was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do about it to hold on. The days were running thin and the clock in his mind ticked even louder with everything Zak was saying to him; he needed you to drown out that sound, to make everything quiet again for him.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long before you made your way into the bathroom behind him. The mirrors in the bathroom had fogged up with steam so you wasted no time in dragging your hand over them, catching Lando’s eyeliner through the reflection. You stayed quiet whilst he said his goodbyes, busying yourself with brushing your teeth and pretending you weren’t listening to Lando’s phone call - because you absolutely weren’t and you had no idea what the man on the phone meant by ‘the rest of the season is ours,’ so you pretended to be more interested with the contents of your makeup bag. 

“Morning, baby.” Lando took a step closer towards you, pressing a kiss to your temple and pushing some stray hairs behind your ears so he could take a proper look at you - stood in nothing but his shirt from the night before, and he could’ve sworn you were trying to get a reaction out of him but he knew when you smiled sweetly back up at him, he knew you were none the wiser.

“You’re up early, hm?” It was entirely unusual that Lando was awake before you as you spent most mornings trying to coax him out of bed despite his many protests, so to say you were shocked was quite an understatement.

“Yeah, work phone calls take priority apparently.” He still wasn’t too happy with Zak phoning him when he knew that he was in Greece, trying to create a distance between himself and racing for at least a few weeks. But now you were stood beside him, taking his mind off of that, so he couldn’t complain all too much.

“Even on holiday?” You tutted and rolled your eyes, understanding Lando’s annoyance because you couldn’t imagine how you would feel if your boss had called to chat about work when you had time off. “There should be a boundary set there, honestly.”

“I know but everything’s just so important to him, it can’t wait another few days ‘till I’m back,” Lando sighed and ran his hands over his face, trying his hardest not to let anything Zak had said to him seep into his mind but he was beginning to struggle in his fight against his own mind. “I get it, I do, him being stressed and whatever, but, fuck I mean, I’m fucking stressed, y’know, and I don’t think he’s getting it.” His breathing picked up more than what Lando would’ve been comfortable with, it caught in his throat and crawled through him, threatening him as tears that pricked at his eyes.

You wanted to interject, to try and soothe him however you could, but you let him keep speaking -  let him speak his mind. You figured it would be better for him to truly let his feelings out into the open before you tried to ease his anxieties. 

“I just, I don’t think I can take the pressure sometimes, it feels like everyone’s expecting me to be something I’m not,” He could hardly get his words out in between his shallow breathing, he tried biting his lip to keep his composure but it was useless - his sobs fought their way to be seen, to be heard, and he couldn’t pretend that keeping his emotions at bay was any use. No matter what he done, or how he felt, his emotions would fight their way through him as they bubbled to the surface. “I dont- I can’t- I dunno. God, sorry.”

“No, Lan, no, it’s okay.” You quickly shook your head and moved closer to him, your hands cupping his face to try and pull him back towards you instead of letting him spiral into the mess of his own mind.

“You don’t- I just, I don’t want you seeing me like this.” He tried to pull away, to hide from your worried eyes, but you kept him in your hold. Your fingers dragged across his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen from his eyes as you could feel Lando’s breathing beginning to slow down. 

“You’ve got nothing to hide, not from me.” You could understand why Lando wouldn’t want you to see him in a state like this, but you didn’t want him to feel like he had to hide from you - you wanted to be there for you.

“Sorry, it’s stupid to get worked up like this, especially about work,” He took one final deep breath and clasped his hands over yours as they still rested over his cheeks, tangling your fingers together. “I just get in my head sometimes, get worried about shit I’ve got no control over - I just wasn’t expecting to have to deal with it over here.”

“It’s okay to get worked up, it’s not stupid- you’re not stupid,” Though your words weren’t the most colourful, they were heartfelt and exactly what Lando needed to hear. “You don’t have to be anything, you just have to be you.”

“I don’t think I’m meant for this sometimes,” Lando leant back against the bathroom countertop, unable to stop the words from spilling out - though, he should’ve thought harder about what he was saying to you, knowing it was more than what he had ever planned for but he couldn’t help it in a brief moment of weakness. “I want to live like you, I think, sometimes. Just travel and meet people and live freely, just do whatever I want. I hate that people have an idea of me in their head and I can’t live up to it.”

“The best you can give people is yourself, there’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not.” You moved to stand in between his legs, Lando’s hands then finding solace on your waist as he tried to keep himself grounded.

“You see me, though. And I like that,” Lando dipped his head closer to yours, his lips hovered over yours but he didn’t dare to press a kiss there, not yet. “I don’t have to pretend to be anything, I get to just be me.”

“That’s all I ask for, Lan.” You closed the gap between you and Lando, your hand resting on his chest as you felt him relax any tensions within him under the pressure of your touch.

“So, that farmer’s market is still there today- you up for it?” He pinched your waist, seemingly in a far better mood than he was all of ten minutes ago. “There’s local honey, homemade jewellery, organic produce. We could take a drive, do some shopping, y’know embrace being a tourist for the last while.”

“Sounds perfect.” You nodded your head and embraced the smile on your face as it hid the minor uneasy feeling that was building in your chest over the thought of how little time you had left with Lando without so much as a plan for what would happen when all of this had to come to an end. So instead, you focused on Lando in front of you and the thought of the farmer’s market with him.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Here we go! Can’t wait to dive into part 4 and see what these two are up to!

“Listen, don’t worry about overstaying your welcome, alright?” Ben said then as if he could feel the anxiety taking over you. His eyes sized you up, wondering if you would push back again. “Take your time, sweetheart. Really, there’s no need to rush, okay?” A tame smile played across his lips. “I-, uh, I don’t mind the company. Makes the house feel a little less empty.”

Aw. Yes stay with him girl! You can really see just how damn…alone he is. Ben would have been around mid twenties here, right? It’s kind of not much of a shocker how he turned out the way he did after a lifetime of that. 

Florence sighed softly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Back when he was a boy, he could never stop talking. Always asking questions, always trying to be the best at everything. It’s a little different now. More weight on his shoulders,” she explained. “Mr. Brooks, well… he’s always had big plans for Benjamin. Too big, in my opinion.”

Stupid Papa Benjamin. He's just... *incoherent screeching*

She didn’t fully reciprocate your smile, though, her expression turning thoughtful. “Benjamin used to bring strays home all the time. Cats, dogs, even little birds,” she said, and you didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Poor things, starving or hurt, and he’d nurse them back to health. Always said it was his way of helping,” she continued, chuckling softly under her breath. “I guess he thought he could save the world with kindness. That was before he started… well, before his father started making sure he knew what was… right.”

Her hands stilled mid-wipe on the countertop. “One day, Benjamin brought home a small dog. Old, injured… it could hardly walk. His father… he made him kill it.” She looked at you then, her eyes sharp. “To teach him a lesson. About weakness. He said a man can’t be soft. That weakness could bring the whole family down. Benjamin never brought a stray home again after that.”

Ben’s so precious and I loathe that father of his with the passion of a thousand suns. Let’s drop him in a vat of acid, shall we?

“Uh-huh.” You nodded rather unsurely, your nerves ticking like a bomb inside of you. “Feeling like a tribute in the Hunger Games…” you muttered under your breath, aware your audience wouldn’t understand a pop culture reference from the 21st century. 

No but as soon as they came in the house I was thinking, omg it’s like Effie and the gang is here to do make overs (side note, if you’ve not read Sunrise on The Reaping yet I highly recommend).

“Oh, fuck no!” You looked at the thing in her hands with terror.

Same girl. You couldn’t pay me to wear a damn corset. Underwire bras are torture enough lol

“Percival?” you mouthed at Ben, slowly erupting into a laugh. His cheeks flushed so red you could’ve confused them for Mars.

God I love his stuck up, snotty middle name. Only the rich am I right?

“I guess my father did,” Ben said as if he’d only just realized that fact himself. “I don’t know exactly what happened. I first noticed it when I was teenager. She just stopped being the person I remembered. She became more distant. Cold. She’s mostly just a ghost here. I think she just gave up fighting him, so she played the role of his wife, but not the one of my mother anymore.”

Can reader time travel to the Titanic and drop dear old dad off there “accidentally”? Pretty please?

Well, you hoped Mr. Brooks Sr. would enjoy the bubonic plague as much as your parents did once you got your powers back. It was the least you could do.

YESSS! Love we’re on the same murder wavelength there 

He got her a birthday cake?

I’m loving all the insight we’re getting with Ben and the reader giving up on seeing him in such black and white terms anymore. Yes, he’s still a flirt and a smidge of a douche but like I mentioned before, he has such a lonely, loveless existence. I’m not sure why I just thought of this but since you mentioned Hunger Games, Ben almost gives a Haymitch vibe in a way. There is that loneliness that comes out through substance abuse later on and not getting attached in relationships but there’s still this protective, kind nature underlying everything. And Ben’s still at this point of being receptive to it and understanding hooking up with the staff might have more meaning to them than he originally thought. 

I don’t know why but I’m starting to get more and more nervous that somehow reader will end up breaking his heart and that will account for so much of his future anger at what he might consider the ultimate betrayal after letting her into his closely guarded heart.

Now off to part 5!

Time After Time – Chapter 4

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, angst, mentions of animal cruelty, fluff, humor, slow burn, a super cliché makeover moment

Word Count: 10.1k

Posted on Patreon March 21, 2025

A/N: Heads up! My responses will still be a little slow. The boys are sick and I'm the last one standing. Haven't slept a lot this week lol. In other news – we're beginning our deep dive into Ben's past and doing a little bonding. Enjoy! 😉 ✨ Chapter title comes from Gone with the Wind (1939)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

You opened your eyes to soft sunlight filtering through heavy curtains. The room was huge, as was the bed, but it was the unfamiliarity of it all that made you shift uncomfortably in the plush sheets.

The clothes Ben had lent you felt strange. You couldn’t help but remember the quiet tension between you two in his father’s study, the moment you both had almost crossed some invisible line, and then he’d pulled away like it had never been there.

Still, you couldn't shake the pull he had on you. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that his kindness was a distraction – an unexpected one. His presence stirred something deep inside you, and you hated it. You needed to fucking leave. Fast.

You forced yourself to get up, the cool hardwood floors sending a shiver up your spine as you made your way to the door. You didn’t belong here – not in this house, not in this time. You needed to escape before things got any more goddamn complicated.

You descended the grand staircase, the weight of the mansion pressing down on you once more, its silence almost suffocating. The sound of your footsteps echoed through the empty hall before Ben already appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

How the fuck was he doing that? He didn’t have super-hearing yet, did he?

“Hey, you’re up early,” he greeted you with a brief flick of his eyes as he adjusted the cufflinks in his shirt.

He was dressed impeccably in a sharp, charcoal gray, three-piece suit that made him look every bit the man his father expected him to be. But he didn’t seem happy.

You had gathered enough courage to speak by the time you reached the last step – and him. “Yeah, uh, I was wondering if we could maybe get a jump start on my… departure?”

Ben bobbed his head, lips pursed, but avoided looking straight into your eyes. “Sure, yeah,” he said at first, but you knew there’d be more. A lot more. “I just have to drop by the office and take care of a few things. But I told Florence, our housekeeper, to take good care of you. She’s already prepared breakfast for you in the dining room. Anything you need, just tell her, and she’ll get it for you. Make yourself at home, okay?”

What the fucking fuck was happening?

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you ultimately found the words. “Am I–“ Ben’s head tilted at you, a hint of amusement and curiosity on his face. “Am I a hostage?”

He barked a loud laugh at your question, but then instantly lowered the volume to a more soothing tone. “No, no, of course not. You can leave anytime, sweetheart,” he assured you, and miraculously, you believed him. “Look, if you want to leave, I’ll take you to the train station or whatever right now. I just figured, you know, you seemed like you needed a little more time. I mean, do you know yet where you’re going next?”

“I told you. New York.” You folded your arms, shrugging.

“You have a place there? A home? Family? Friends? What?” he badgered on, crossing his own arms over his broad chest with a scrutinizing look.

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

Shit. 

You exhaled a frustrated sigh. This was getting old. “Why d’you care?”

Ben seemed caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in your voice. But then his lips curled into a half-smile, too tight at the corners, as he casually brushed off your question. “Yeah, guess I’m not supposed to care, right?”

He let out a short snort that almost sounded like an inside joke, his eyes flickering to the side, posture stiffening ever so slightly. He took a step back from you, adjusting his cufflinks again as if the distance and mindless fumbling could redirect the conversation, but the subtle grind of his jaw betrayed him.

You hesitated for a beat, but then decided to tell the truth. “Look, I-, I don’t really have anything in New York. I just figured I could find… something there, you know?”

Saying the words out loud caused a wave of panic to rise in your chest. He was right. Even if you left, you had no place to go and no idea how to get your abilities back yet.

“Listen, don’t worry about overstaying your welcome, alright?” Ben said then as if he could feel the anxiety taking over you. His eyes sized you up, wondering if you would push back again. “Take your time, sweetheart. Really, there’s no need to rush, okay?” A tame smile played across his lips. “I-, uh, I don’t mind the company. Makes the house feel a little less empty.”

Fucking hell…

You wanted to tell him to stop – stop being so fucking considerate and sweet when all you wanted was to disappear. But your throat tightened, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. So you just nodded and forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Alright.” Ben gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll be in the office. You have a good day, sweetheart.”

Shit. By the affectionate gleam in his green eyes, you could tell he was enjoying this scene a little too much. You wouldn’t play The Donna Reed Show with him – and even that was still more than a decade of progressive thought away. All that was missing from his goodbye was a kiss to your temple and the sentence, “Can’t wait to see what you have cooked for dinner tonight, honey!” 

“By the way, I arranged for my mother’s tailor to come by this afternoon,” he added on his way to the front door.

“What?!”

Oh, you didn’t like this at all…

Ben only laughed at your gasp of horror. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time. Not throwing you to the wolves alone,” he quipped.

Needless to say, that didn’t comfort you in the slightest.

“Wait, what?!”

Ben gave you a patient smile, his amusement still visible before it morphed to a more teasing nature. “Look, as much as I enjoy seeing you in my clothes, sweetheart, I figured we should get you something more… fitting. Especially if you still plan your escape to the big, wide world out there.”

Before you could say another word, he was already disappearing out the door, his footsteps echoing as they faded into the distance. However, you didn’t remain alone for long.

“Miss?” A soft voice interrupted your thoughts.

You turned to find a woman in a worn, but well-kept uniform suddenly standing in the foyer. She must have been the housekeeper Ben told you about – Florence.

Her face was kind, lined with the wear of years spent in this house, but there was a warmth in her smile that made her seem less like staff and more like family.

“Would you like something to eat, miss? It’s all ready for you in the sunroom.” Her voice was almost motherly, comforting, as if she’d been saying the same thing to Ben since he was a child.

You blinked at the mention of something called a sunroom. Sure, you’d heard of it, but you had never seen one nor had you ever known someone to own one. You’d grown up in a trailer park in Jersey, then lived in small and shabby cabin in the woods with a lot plumbing issues, and now in a shoebox apartment in a sketchy part of New York.

You glanced down the hallway at the dark, opulent, and intimidating dining room and figured the sunroom surely sounded… happier. But you didn’t want to eat alone in a big, empty mansion, your eyes landing on the housekeeper.

Florence had probably seen a lot over the years in this household. Maybe Ben wasn’t the only source of information around.

Since you couldn’t leave and Ben was so obviously avoiding you and your departure plans, you figured you could spend the day snooping.

This place was Soldier Boy’s diary, after all.

“I was thinking... maybe I could have breakfast with you? In the kitchen?” you asked her with a shy, yet friendly smile.

Florence’s brow rose in obvious surprise but quickly returned your smile. “Of course, miss. I can’t say I’ve ever had company for breakfast before since I’ve worked here, but I’d be glad to have you join me.”

Well, you had always loved being a little rule breaker.

You followed her into the kitchen, where the heavenly smell of eggs, bacon, and freshly brewed coffee wound its way to your nose. Your stomach suddenly grumbled. You hadn’t fucking eaten since that piece of birthday cake Annie had brought in that morning in the office.

It already felt like a lifetime ago. Had it been chocolate cake or red velvet? Why couldn’t you remember?

Swallowing, your gaze wandered around the kitchen as the housekeeper already bustled around, placing a plate down on an old oak table in the middle of the room. It was a warm, cozy space despite its size, shelves with china and silver lining the walls. Another fire crackled in the corner – they pretty much had a fucking fireplace in every room of this house.

You thanked Florence with a smile as you sat down, already stuffing a forkful of eggs into your mouth. “How long have you worked here, Florence?”

“Oh, I’ve known Benjamin since he was born.” She laughed softly as she continued working by the counters. “My mother had already worked for his grandfather.”

“Wow, so I guess you know Benjamin pretty well,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I do.” Florence chuckled but then let out a soft, nostalgic sigh. “He always had a lot to say, even as a little boy. Too much sometimes, if you ask me,” she quipped.

Yeah, you knew what she meant. The supe you knew would go on for hours about his not-so-glamorous stories of the important parties he’d attended and the more important celebrities he’d fucked. And you’d sit there, slowly dying inside, wishing he had the ability to contract laryngitis.

But the current version of him seemed more muted. Sometimes, you’d gotten glimpses of the bragging, the fuckboi attitude, and the spoiled brat who couldn’t accept no for an answer. Last night, though, he’d been more honest than you’d ever seen him.

“Does he always talk a lot?” you asked, your fingers playing with a piece of bacon.

Florence sighed softly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Back when he was a boy, he could never stop talking. Always asking questions, always trying to be the best at everything. It’s a little different now. More weight on his shoulders,” she explained. “Mr. Brooks, well... he’s always had big plans for Benjamin. Too big, in my opinion.”

You only nodded in quiet understanding. The whole house was screaming it; she didn’t have to say more.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Florence asked after a beat, watching you with a curious eye.

Of course the focus would fall back on you eventually. Here, you were the odd one.

You set your fork down and met her gaze with a smile. “You could say that, yeah.”

She didn’t fully reciprocate your smile, though, her expression turning thoughtful. “Benjamin used to bring strays home all the time. Cats, dogs, even little birds,” she said, and you didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Poor things, starving or hurt, and he’d nurse them back to health. Always said it was his way of helping,” she continued, chuckling softly under her breath. “I guess he thought he could save the world with kindness. That was before he started... well, before his father started making sure he knew what was… right.”

“What do you mean?” The creases of your brow deepened, the eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach increasing.

“Here, take my coat. You poor thing must be freezing. Look at you, you’re shaking.”

Her hands stilled mid-wipe on the countertop. “One day, Benjamin brought home a small dog. Old, injured… it could hardly walk. His father... he made him kill it.” She looked at you then, her eyes sharp. “To teach him a lesson. About weakness. He said a man can’t be soft. That weakness could bring the whole family down. Benjamin never brought a stray home again after that.”

Until you.

That was her underlying message. Florence was giving you a warning. Suddenly, you weren’t all that hungry anymore. You’d swallowed enough for one morning.

Florence’s eyes softened as if she could sense your unease. She lowered her voice, leaning in closer as she wiped down the oak table in front of you. “Listen, miss, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’d better leave before his father comes back.” Her tone was stern – protective. Apparently, one person in this house was looking out for Ben after all. It was just someone you hadn’t expected. “He’s a good boy, but his father’s a hard man. When he returns, all this–,” her eyes pierced into you, “–won’t be tolerated. Benjamin’s already been walking a tightrope with him. I don’t want you to be another problem for him.”

Her words hit you harder than expected. You nodded slowly, a cold shiver running down your spine as you realized just how precarious your situation really was. You weren’t here just because of a little time-traveling mishap. You were a complication – an inconvenience to the best-laid plans. She had seen what happened when Ben’s father decided that someone didn’t belong. And right now, you were the one who didn’t belong.

“I’ve told you what I can. Just-... don’t stay too long, miss. For your sake, and his.”

The mansion felt different in the afternoon – quieter, almost as if it were suspending its breath in anticipation for its owners to arrive. The morning, on the other hand, had been filled with staff scurrying around.

There was George, the groundskeeper and repairmen, who’d spent an hour switching broken lightbulbs in the endless corridors. You followed him to his work shed out back, finding a gigantic garden clad in winter magic as you chatted vividly with the sweet, older man. Soon, you started to freeze, though Ben had left his wool coat behind for you with a handwritten note, which was handed to you by Florence.

In case you go outside to look for an escape route…

Which brought you to your third encounter this morning – Ray, the chauffeur. He’d sought you out after breakfast with another message from his boss to you: “Mr. Benjamin wanted me to tell you that you’re allowed to use me for any getaway plans you may have.”

So, the younger version of Soldier Boy actually had a sense of humor. Who knew?

But even as you drifted aimlessly through the mansion, exploring one giant and overwhelming room after the next, your mind couldn’t free itself from the haunting conversation with Florence. You wouldn’t have cared if you caused trouble for Soldier Boy, but for some reason, you didn’t want Ben to suffer more.

Sure, his 80-years-older counterpart was the devil reincarnated, but this version of him had treated you only with kindness, the two sides of the same coin sometimes hard to reconcile.

Your sympathy, however, wavered slightly when you met the last two members of the staff – the maids, Frances and Dottie. Frances was the older one, probably in her forties, and didn’t pay much attention to you, going about her chores. Dottie, a girl in her early twenties, on the other hand, sent you a subtle glare every time you passed her in a hallway. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead by noon.

As her narrowed eyes particularly stared at your choice of outfit, Ben’s shirt, you quickly sensed why she might not like you.

The man really was a fucking dog.

When Florence moved to do laundry, you offered to help, but she quickly shooed you away, more or less telling you to stop getting her into trouble. So, you kept cautiously wandering around like the ghosts that haunted this home. You took in all the portraits of solemn men in expensive suits, the velvet drapes, the old-world furniture that shone with polish and pride. Spying a beautiful grand piano in the living room tempted you to tickle its ivories, but you didn’t know if it was allowed or even welcomed.

At this point, you certainly didn’t want to cause more trouble.

You ambled down another hallway, and just as you rounded the corner, the front door swung open, and Ben stepped inside.

“Are you always this curious?” he asked with a grin, leaving coat, hat, and scarf with Florence, who had hurried to his side as soon as she heard him come home.

Again, it explained so much about the future version of him. You had almost rolled your eyes but tried to remind yourself it really wasn’t his fault that everyone catered to his needs. This whole house and life was designed to turn him into a spoiled, careless man-child, taught to eat his feelings.

And as you observed Florence’s devotion to him, you suddenly saw the pattern as clear as day and knew you could never, ever unsee it afterward. His future counterpart had certainly shown a… preference in older housekeepers and maids – sexually.

You stiffened a bit, feeling like you were just caught red-handed in his diary – or his underwear drawer. “I… well, I was just exploring. It’s a… big house,” you deflected from your disturbing thoughts.

His tongue licked over his bottom lip as he nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes feels like it can swallow you whole.” He paused, probably realizing he let too much slip. “You find anything interesting?”

You gave an innocent shake of your head. “Not really. A lot of portraits of your ancestors, and some... old furniture.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s a lot of that.” He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. But when you met his eyes, you found more pain than anything else. “My father loves his legacy. It’s like living inside a museum sometimes.” He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders that was supposed to convince you he wasn’t bothered by that fact.

It failed, though. You hadn’t been able to pinpoint it until he said it, but walking through the mansion felt like taking a stroll through the Natural History Museum.

“So, uhm, how was your day?” you asked and would’ve loved to add a sarcastic honey. But again, it wasn’t his fault this time period was still domesticating women.

“Good. The usual, I guess,” he said casually, but you could tell by the small smile grazing his lips that he was happy you’d asked. “How was yours, sweetheart? Aside from exploring and scheming an escape plan?”

You giggled softly and gave him a smile that was almost shy. “Good so far. I had a lovely breakfast with Florence in the kitchen.”

Ben’s brow raised in surprise, but his smile hadn’t faded entirely. “You ate with the housekeeper in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” You gave a nod before your brow puckered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get her into trouble. She-… she isn’t, right?”

“Wha-… No, no, not at all,” Ben assured you, chuckling. “I just-… well, I’ve lived here for a little over twenty years, and I’ve never had breakfast before in the kitchen.”

“Huh, well, you should try it sometime. It’s fun.” You gave him a shrug, grinning.

“I’ll think about it,” he said and cocked a brow, his eyes dragging over your frame – the shirt of his you wore – with that little leer of his. “Do you always do what’s fun, sweetheart?”

The chime of the doorbell came as a welcome interruption and made both your heads turn toward the sound.

Saved by the bell. Your heart still thundered the storm of the century in your chest as Florence hurried to the front door once more. You had almost wanted him to step closer. You’d never experienced that feeling before with him.

“The seamstress is here, miss,” Florence said, swiftly ushering you toward another hallway. “Right this way.”

Fuck. You’d completely forgotten about that. You knew you needed some kind of period-appropriate attire. But why couldn’t he just take you to the 1942 equivalent of a V&M or Vara? You weren’t in the mood to entertain any makeover shenanigans.

“See you in a bit,” Ben said and fled down the opposite direction.

“Whoa! Hey! Where are you going? You said you weren’t going to leave me alone for this,” you said, your voice disturbingly close to a whine.

Ben must’ve sensed the panic blinking like an evacuation alarm in your eyes because he actually took a few steps closer to you again. “Five minutes, alright? Just have to take this to the study.” He gestured to a briefcase in his hand. “I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”

Giving a hesitant nod, you couldn’t understand your own feelings. A big part of you hated to have him near you, hated talking to him, and hated to accept his help. Why him, of all the people on this planet? But there was another part of you that desperately sought the comfort his familiarity offered in an unfamiliar place.

Florence led you to the drawing room – a space specifically designed for entertaining guests. In your childhood, a burning trash can in the trailer park had served as your entertainment space for guests. In New York, it was your pull-up couch/bed. But sure, why not add an extra room if you’re shitting money?

The moment you stepped into the room where the tailor was waiting, your own personal nightmare unfolded in front of you as you were greeted by a flurry of fabric and an energetic woman in her forties, with short, stylishly curled hair and glasses perched on her nose. She was perpetually in motion, constantly fidgeting, muttering to herself as she laid out fabric swatches with dramatic flair. Her hands fluttered in the air like a conductor preparing for a grand symphony.

She straightened up when she saw you, eyes lighting up with immediate interest. “Ah, so you’re the one Benjamin’s been telling me about!” Her voice was brisk but warm, and she wasted no time in circling you like a hawk. Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses, scanning you from head to toe with exaggerated precision, as though the idea of fitting you for a dress was as exciting as solving a puzzle. “We’re going to make you absolutely stunning, darling. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

You hesitated at the doorway, giving her a tentative smile. “I’m really not sure about all of this. I’m not exactly–”

She waved her hand dismissively, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Not exactly what, my dear? Feminine? Pish posh. All women are feminine. It’s simply a matter of presentation.” She paused to give you another once-over, her eyes practically sparkling as she stepped closer, her hands bunching and tucking Ben’s loose shirt in various ways around your body. Were tailors always this handsy? “You have the shape, the frame. We’ll just need to... refine it.” She grinned, showing an alarming amount of enthusiasm for fabric and needles. “You’ll look fantastic in no time. You’ll be the talk of every high society ball, I assure you.”

“Huh? What now?” You blinked, unsure if you should laugh or run away. Did Effie Trinket just mention the word ball? You did not like the sound of that.

You shot a glance toward the door upon hearing a quiet creak, and Ben stepped inside, the faintest grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he took in the scene. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and your eyes locked with his, silently asking him for a goddamn rescue. But instead, he looked entertained, maybe even a little pleased, which was infuriating, to say the least.

“You okay in here?” Ben asked, voice tinged with amusement as his green eyes darted between you and the seamstress.

“Uh-huh.” You nodded rather unsurely, your nerves ticking like a bomb inside of you. “Feeling like a tribute in the Hunger Games…” you muttered under your breath, aware your audience wouldn’t understand a pop culture reference from the 21st century. At least, the knowledge that Hughie and Annie would have laughed soothed your anxiety slightly.

The tailor, as if summoned by Ben’s voice, immediately sprang to action, striding toward him with a look of sheer joy. “Ah, Benjamin! What perfect timing! We’re just about to turn your lovely guest into a proper lady. You’ve done well bringing her here.” She beamed, patting Ben on the arm like a proud parent. “Wherever did you find this girl?”

“Uh… On the street.” Ben smirked, cleverly disguising the truth as a joke.

The seamstress threw him a pointed look at his antics, shaking her head. “Always a joker, this boy… However do you put up with him?”

“Oh, I have no idea.” You grinned, your eyes flickering mischievously to Ben. “It’s exhausting!”

Ben’s brow knitted, but to your surprise, he was more amused than anything else with your response.

“Oh, your mother will be so pleased when she comes back,” the tailor tells him wistfully before turning her attention back to you. “She always wanted a daughter to show off at tea parties. She’ll have you parading around Philadelphia’s finest circles in no time.”

Tea parties? Balls? Fuck no! Not to mention you wanted to be long gone before his parents got back, Florence’s warning still all too fresh in your mind.

Panicked, you blinked at Ben, while the tailor already swung a measuring tape around you like a ribbon.

“Uh, Ms. Vivian, my guest won’t be here anymore when my mother returns,” Ben informed her, approaching you as you stood in the middle of the room like a statue in an art gallery. “So, maybe we tone it down a little with the tea parties and the ball gowns.” He then looked at you, his eyes reassuring and encouraging. “Just tell her what you want, sweetheart. I told you – I got you.” He winked.

Your cheeks involuntarily blushed. Honestly, that little gesture might have been the nicest fucking thing he’d ever done for you.

With newfound confidence, you faced the seamstress. “Uh, maybe we could find something simple and casual? Maybe a little flowy?”

“Flowy? What, like a farmhand?” The tailor’s brow furrowed wildly as if you’d just offended her, clasping a palm to her chest. She sighed so loudly you almost felt like you had just shattered her entire lifelong dreams.

Ben snorted, and you couldn’t help but break into little giggles too, both your amusement flying right over the seamstress’ head.

“What about the cream one?” You pointed at a soft flowing dress on the rack, which looked perfectly fine to get around without suffocating.

“Oh, darling, no!” The tailor shook her head vigorously, but Ben sent her a stern look.

“Ms. Vivian…” His voice was calm but warning.

“Alright, fine.” She rolled her eyes exhaustively and put the dress aside before finding another one as well. She held it up to your face like it was a magic curtain. “What about this? Maybe a soft, ladylike lavender or perhaps a daring crimson to match the boldness I see in your eyes? That color would work wonders for your complexion, too!”

“Oh, uh, let’s steer clear of the crimson,” you told her, clearing your throat – not that Ben would actually catch why that made you uncomfortable.

“It seems like ‘no’ is your favorite word,” Ms. Vivian tutted in her frustration.

Ben laughed slightly at the comment. “Oh, she’s a hard one to win over,” he quipped, but his eyes never left you. There was a soft hint of a smile playing on his lips that you could almost confuse for affection.

Were you going fucking crazy?

The seamstress paused, considering the two of you, and then smiled in a way that felt a little too knowing. “Well, I suppose we could compromise. A sophisticated look, not too dramatic, but refined and elegant. The perfect balance. And just a hint of mystery, of course.”

God, she was good. You had to give her that. She really knew what she was doing, although you hated the fact she could read you so easily.

As Ms. Vivian eagerly rolled out fabrics and draped silks and velvets around your shoulders like sacred relics, Ben snuck closer to you. His fingertips lingered on your wrist, brushing but not touching as if to reassure you he hadn’t forgotten the rules.

But his breath fanned against the shell of your ear, the hair in the back of your neck saluting him when he checked on you in a whisper, “You still holding up here okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You laughed softly, barely able to hold his gaze. This whole situation was nerve-racking. “Just not used to being the center of attention like this.”

“Hmm, that’s hard to believe.” Ben gave you a little grin. “You’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoy being dressed up like a doll? You’re not helping, you know...”

Ben chuckled. “Maybe not. But I enjoy watching you try getting out of it. Besides, I think you’ll look stunning, no matter what you wear.”

Furiously burning heat crept to your cheeks at his flattery. Fuck, he was good when he wanted to be. You thought you could handle Soldier Boy like you’d done so many times before in the future without issue, but this was entirely different.

“Oh, we almost forgot the foundations!” The tailor’s voice luckily interrupted the moment and drew both your attention back to her.

Your brow quirked, accompanied by an anxious feeling in your gut. “Foundations?”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yes, darling. The proper undergarments,” she clarified and searched for the appropriate item in her large, wooden treasure chest. “What about a nice corset?”

“Oh, fuck no!” You looked at the thing in her hands with terror.

To your surprise, Ms. Vivian uttered a loud gasp of horror as well. Ben, on the other hand, snorted in amusement behind your shoulder, and you turned to him with a confused expression.

“What?”

Before Ben could answer you, Ms. Vivian spoke first: “Young lady, mind your language!”

“Oh.” Your brow raised in realization. “Shit. I’m sorry. I mean crap! No, dammit! Am I allowed to say ‘crap’?”

A louder, more forceful laugh escaped Ben then, and you could see the glassy veil of tears over his eyes. He bit his lips hard, trying to regain his composure when Ms. Vivian was scolding both of you with a stern look.

“Benjamin, you better get Mrs. Helen to work with her before you take her out,” the seamstress said, but it was more than a mere suggestion. Her eyes were practically pleading him.

“Who’s Mrs. Helen?” you asked your host in a whisper-tone.

“She’s an etiquette coach,” Ben informed you, his amused smile still unwavering.

Your brow furrowed. “What, so I know which fork to stabbeth myself with while some pompous dick is going on and on about his yacht and the stock market?”

Ben chuckled violently behind his palm, but Ms. Vivian was less than amused and quirked a high eyebrow.

“Young lady, you better mind your manners,” she chided. “You may not find a man this way. Men don’t appreciate sailor talk. You’re in company of a gentleman here.”

“Who? Him?!” With a severely wrinkled brow, you thumbed over your shoulder at your host.

Oh, that is hilarious…

“Alright, if a corset is out of question, then we at least need to get you a proper brassiere,” Ms. Vivian continued her quest to dress you appropriately.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m good on that front,” you said.

The seamstress threw you a raised look, lowering her glasses on her nose for dramatic effect. “If you think I’ll let you walk out of here without the proper undergarments, you better think again,” she told you firmly.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ben quipped, grinning cheekily.

“Merde…” You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Fine, gimme a bra.”

Ms. Vivian foraged through her magical treasure chest again, shaking her head. “You know, I understand French, too, young lady.”

Fuck me, you thought since you couldn’t say it out loud.

“You speak French?” Ben tossed you a curious glance.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fluent, actually,” you replied and watched his brow hike up in surprise.

“Well, I’m glad not all hope is lost,” Ms. Vivian chimed in. “French is very popular for girls your age.”

“You learned it in school?” Ben asked, and you could tell he was using this opportunity to pry more information out of you, but this time, you figured it couldn’t hurt.

“Uh, self-taught, actually,” you answered. Living in the French part of Canada for a couple of years, you’d certainly picked up a thing or two. “I’m also good with Latin and Greek. History, science, math…”

“Math?” Ben questioned, a trace of surprised intrigue flashing in his green eyes.

“Yeah, math,” you confirmed, smirking. “What subjects were you good at in school?”

Ms. Vivian snorted loudly at your question, Ben sending her a little glare at that. You knew why, remembering how he had flunked boarding school. And Soldier Boy would’ve probably pulverized the seamstress right this second for making fun of him, but Ben was a lot less hot-tempered.

“Uh, little bit of everything, I guess,” he replied vaguely at first, still trying to impress you. But then he wet his lips in thought. “To be honest, I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to my classes.”

The sudden honesty surprised you, and you rewarded it with a kind smile. You gave a quick shrug of your shoulders. “School’s overrated, anyways. Most of the stuff you need for life, you learn on the go.”

Ben’s lips curved into a smile. “Like French?”

“Like French.” You nodded, grinning.

“You know, playing an instrument is very desirable as well for girls,” Ms. Vivian added. “It lets potential suitors know you’re refined and cultured.”

So, they know I can play their flute? 

You bit back your comment, not knowing if Ms. Vivian wasn’t hiding a muzzle for you in her treasure chest as well.

“Well, I play the piano,” you offered instead. Truly, you didn’t try to impress Ben but the judgmental tailor. You hoped if she thought you had at least a little bit of a well-bred pedigree, she’d stay clear of the feathered hats you spied in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, that is wonderful!” Ms. Vivian clapped her hands in delight, making you quite proud of your achievement.

One point for the trailer park bitch!

“You know, we have a piano right there,” Ben said, gesturing to the corner where the beautiful grand piano stood that you’d admired earlier that day.

“Oh, I know. I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to touch it,” you said, giggling. “Seems a little too grand for my skills.”

“No, go ahead, sweetheart. It hasn’t been played in a while. I’m sure it’d appreciate the treatment,” Ben encouraged you with soft smile, the affectionate gleam reappearing in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s too bad your mother won’t be here to see this!” Ms. Vivian tragically sighed. “She would’ve loved it! She was a wonderful player herself, always entertaining the guests at parties.”

“Was?” You looked at Ben, but he averted his gaze to the floor, never quite meeting your eyes.

You couldn’t remember if Soldier Boy had ever mentioned his mother. You’d heard plenty about his father, but his mother seemed more like an elusive mirage, swallowed by the exorbitant daddy issues that haunted him.

“She-, uh, she hasn’t really played in recent years,” Ben gave as a polite explanation but didn’t offer anything more.

“Oh, too bad,” you replied and sent him a small smile. “I’m sure she was great.”

“Alright, Benjamin,” the tailor interrupted you two, “This next part of the process is not meant for your eyes, so you better leave.”

“What? Why?” You sure as hell didn’t want to be left alone with the eccentric seamstress. God knows what else she could force you into. You were sure there were a lot worse things than a corset in that trunk of horror.

“Because you have to undress, darling, so I can see what fits and make the appropriate adjustments,” Ms. Vivian told you.

“Oh, I don’t mind staying.” Ben smirked puckishly.

“Benjamin Percival Brooks! Where are your manners, young man?” The tailor flashed him a look full of authority, her voice firm and commanding.

“Percival?” you mouthed at Ben, slowly erupting into a laugh. His cheeks flushed so red you could’ve confused them for Mars.

“I know your mother raised you better than that,” she chastised. “Go on! Shoo!”

You chuckled a little at the face he drew upon her order. Man, you should remember that trick in the future. You were kind of jealous of Ms. Vivian’s skills.

“You’re gonna be alright on your own?” Ben still checked, even when the seamstress was impatiently tapping her heel, waiting for him to leave you to your transformation.

“I suppose,” you replied, amused when the tailor already eyed you with a measuring tape.

“I’ll be in the study if you need me,” Ben said and threw you a wink. “Try not to melt under all the glamour.”

As the evening arrived in the mansion, the grand windows that lined the tall walls dimmed with the fading sunlight. You had spent the last few hours adjusting to your new wardrobe before settling on a dress that made you the most amount of comfortable – which wasn’t a lot, to begin with.

Your choice had landed on a long-sleeved, navy blue dress with the hint of a v-neck that was tied with a pretty bow. Alright, you did like the bow. A lot. This was probably the girliest outfit you had ever worn. It for sure was a far cry from your Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans, but at least you blended into your environment and didn’t stick out of the crowd like a sore thumb.

You also put on the vibrant red beret you had to fight Ms. Vivian for since it wasn’t “in fashion this season.” However, it made you feel very sophisticated and French, like you possessed a certain je ne sais quoi.

Alright, maybe you’d been daydreaming a little too much today. But one thing you’d learned during your epic adventures: Always commit to the bit.

Which meant fully diving into everything this period had to offer. You were stuck here, and you couldn’t get hunted down by an angry mob again, so you sucked it up like a big girl and channeled your inner Betty Draper.

Making your way downstairs, you passed Dottie, whose mouth dropped slightly when she saw you in your new outfit. If you thought Ben’s shirt made her hate you, that dress surely made her want to kill you now.

But Dottie, Grace, Betty, and Sheila all served as good reminders of why you had to heed caution with your charming host. You knew who he was in his essence. You couldn’t let yourself get blended by the pretty wrapping paper.

The door to his father’s study stood ajar, Ben sitting at the large oak desk as you carefully peeked your head inside and halted in the doorway. He was hunched over documents in concentration, scribbling something on paper with murmuring lips and a tensely knitted brow.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, and the moment his eyes lifted and found you, he froze, the pen in his hand faltering midair. His gaze swept over you, not just disbelief but hunger creeping into the lush, green moss of his eyes.

Well, this was even worse than the Zeppelin shirt, the towel, or his clothes. You hadn’t expected the dress to be so noticeable. Maybe you should’ve gone with the pastel green one that made you look like a minted cupcake?

Ben’s mouth parted, but no words came out at first. He blinked, slowly, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “You look, uhm…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Uh-oh…

“Weird, right?” you offered in an attempt to deflect.

Ben snorted a chuckle then, breaking out a bit of his stupor. “Uh, that wouldn’t have been the exact adjective I would’ve used.” The laughing crinkles around his eyes then softened to something warmer, the heat of his lingering stare rushing straight into your veins. “You look… I guess ‘breathtaking’ is the right word for it.”

Yup, that melted your heart right down to your core.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, unsure of how to respond. Then, you noticed a smile sneaking onto his lips when his gaze followed you down to your choice of footwear – you were wearing your same old pair of Chucks.

“Did Ms. Vivian forget the bottom layer?” he teased with an entertained smirk.

“Uh, no, she gave me plenty of choices. Not quite ready yet for that yet, I guess.” You blushed slightly. The truth was, your shoes still gave you a sense of familiarity and home that you wanted to hold onto. You could feel your own time beginning to slip your mind, little fragments starting to go missing from your memory. “She’d probably faint if she saw me like this.”

Ben grinned. “You’re tempting me to call her back just to see it.”

“Oh, too bad you haven’t seen her when I asked her if she had some pants for me, too. She almost collapsed like the London Bridge right then,” you quipped.

“Well, leave it to you to make me jealous I missed one of Ms. Vivian’s fashion shows,” replied Ben, giving you his signature smirk. “I was about to have dinner and was hoping you’d join me. I-, uh, I have a little surprise prepared for you.”

“Oh, uh, you know, that’s not really necessary. You don’t have to give me anything… or more, I guess,” you stammered, shaking your head, pupils flickering. “Letting me stay here, the clothes… It’s enough, okay? It’s more than I could’ve asked for, really. Thank you so much. You really don’t have to do any of that, you know?”

And you strangely meant every word. You were overwhelmingly thankful. Had that been his goal all along? Shit. Was it real it or was he playing you? The grin itching on his lips didn’t help you detangle the mêlée in your mind either.

“Is that a yes or no to dinner?” Ben formed a teasing smile.

“Uh… yes?” You were kind of hungry, not having eaten anything since Florence stuffed you full of crumpets during afternoon tea.

“Alright.” Ben nodded, clearly pleased. “Just, uh, give me a minute to finish this up.”

“Sure. Take your time,” you said and ambled through the study, your gaze drawing you to a row of framed photographs resting on the mantle.

One was a family portrait with Ben, no older than probably five, standing in the middle with two figures behind him – his parents. It was almost haunting seeing a childhood picture of that man, like seeing a teacher outside of school, buying groceries. It reminded you that underneath the emerald suit and the callousness was still a real, living and breathing person.

The contrast between his parents, however, was striking. His father stood tall and imposing, with sharp features and an air of authority that practically leapt off the picture. He didn’t share a lot of resemblance with his son, but weirdly, you could see some similarities between Ben’s father and his future offspring, making you wonder if Soldier Boy ever took note of those attributes as well.

Ben’s mother, on the other hand, was beautiful, her soft features highlighted by a gentle smile. Her eyes were kind, her posture relaxed, and she seemed almost ethereal compared to the rigid formality of her husband.

“Ah, my parents…” Ben’s deep voice ripped you from your thoughts. It was accompanied by a quiet chuckle, as though he didn’t particularly enjoy discussing that topic. He rose from the desk and sauntered closer to you, soon feeling his warmth radiating behind your back. “You see the resemblance?”

You glanced up at him, noting the subtle line of tension between his brows. There was something in his voice that betrayed the casual indifference he wanted to communicate.

“Yeah, you look a lot like your mom,” you remarked, studying the photograph a little closer. “You have her eyes and smile.”

Ben’s expression faltered for a split second with a flicker of something close to disappointment. His lips pressed together, averting his eyes down to the floor. “I suppose that’s true,” he replied with hesitancy. “Honestly, I’d rather prefer looking like my father. I’m not quite the man he is.”

You paused for a moment, your stupid hand itching to reach out to him in comfort. One thing was for sure, though: It was hard to see anything resembling Soldier Boy in the young man in front of you.

Yes, there was the occasional arrogance and bragging and even the insecurities. But you didn’t think this was an act or a game he was playing with you. Vulnerable honesty didn’t really fit his ammo when it came to wooing women. He was too proud in his virility for that.

So, you supposed you were just strange enough of a stranger to confide in. He couldn’t tell it to anyone else because – the girls he’d bedded, the staff in this house – they’d probably gossip, and he couldn’t risk that, could he? Not with a father like that. You, however, didn’t know a soul here. You were nobody. You were safe. You could keep his secrets.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you got lucky,” you said, a teasing smile playing on your lips. You giggled when his brows shot up. “Your mom’s a lot prettier than your dad. I’d be grateful if I were you.”

Ben huffed a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. A grin formed and widened on his freckled, clean-shaven face. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I believe I said pretty,” you teased.

Ben clicked his tongue, lips curling to fight a smile.

Your face softened, deciding to probe further. “What’s she like? Your mother?”

He licked his lips for a moment, surely considering if he wanted to answer your question. “Well, uhm, when I was younger, she was warm. Sweet,” he said slowly, trying to retrieve the memory from someplace distant. “She was everything you could want in a mother, you know? I-, uh, I felt like I could tell her anything, and she-… she’d understand.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly, your hands itching again, only held back by a sliver of self-control.

“I guess my father did,” Ben said as if he’d only just realized that fact himself. “I don’t know exactly what happened. I first noticed it when I was teenager. She just stopped being the person I remembered. She became more distant. Cold. She’s mostly just a ghost here. I think she just gave up fighting him, so she played the role of his wife, but not the one of my mother anymore.”

You had no fucking clue what to say to that. The hurt in his voice was raw, and you knew you were intruding on something personal he wasn’t used to sharing. You’d just opened a big can of worms in Soldier Boy’s past, and you had not the faintest idea how to get those slimy, little strings back inside.

Your eyes drifted back to the photograph. She seemed like a good mother in that picture, how she protectively rested a palm on her son’s shoulder. But you also noticed the contrast between the warmth of his mother’s smile and the cold, steely expression of his father. It was as if Ben’s mother had faded into the background, a supporting character in a life that had never really been her own. A fate, you’re sure, that befell many women of this time.

“You think she’s still in there somewhere? The woman you knew?”

Ben was silent for a beat, his gaze fixed on the photograph as he thought about it. “I don’t know,” he said. “I used to think so. Now, I’m not so sure. The more time passed, the more she became… him.”

Well, you hoped Mr. Brooks Sr. would enjoy the bubonic plague as much as your parents did once you got your powers back. It was the least you could do. Maybe then, you and Ben could call it even in the future and go back to your normal routine of hating each other.

It surely sounded less frightening than whatever this weird, blooming thing between you was right now that spread like a nasty STD.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not knowing what else to offer. You still didn’t reach out to him. You were already playing with matches. You didn’t need to throw them into gasoline.

Ben gave a tight smile, trying to overplay his vulnerability. But you could see beneath all the bravado and arrogance. He was just a son who’d never felt like he was enough. Not to his father. Not to his mother.

Worst of all, you could relate.

He chuckled bitterly. “It’s alright. I’ve learned to live with it. You can’t choose your parents.”

“That’s true.” You gave a slight nod of agreement. “Mine were fucking assholes from the start.”

You hadn’t planned on sharing something personal with him, but it felt like the least amount of comfort and understanding you could offer him.

Ben’s brow twitched with surprise, a smile of amusement flashing across his lips, probably because of your use of sailor talk again. Honestly, though, how fucking ironic was that? You hadn’t even sworn a lot your whole life, but spending a year with Butcher and Soldier Boy in particular did a number on you.

“What-, uhm, what were they like… or are? Are they still alive?”

“No, dead. Probably,” you replied flatly. “And they were, uhm… selfish, unkind, elusive. Dumb like a bag of bricks, too.” Upon Ben’s blinking eyes, you uttered a half-hearted “sorry.”

“No, uh–“ Ben shook his head a little, as if to organize his thoughts. “So, that story about your father teaching you–“

“Bullshit, I guess,” you admitted, smirking a little.

“So, all that stuff you know–“

“I taught myself,” you confirmed with a proud smile, standing a little straighter. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you couldn’t deal with a woman being smarter than you.”

Ben’s lips hitched a smile that he tried to bite back. “I guess we’ll see,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “I’m glad you asked about her,” he added quietly, his look touching something within your soul. “Not many people do.”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I’m sure your mom’s proud of you. Even if she doesn’t show it.”

And then, the air shifted. You could feel it all around you, settling on your skin in a veil of delicate blossoms, rising in response to whispers of electricity. They danced across the surface, each little peak a shiver of anticipation. Your heart drummed louder, faster, till it drowned out all the other noise. There was just you and him at that moment in time.

You’d held eye contact for too long, the silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. It was addicting.

Your gaze briefly fell to his plush, pink lips, immediately cursing yourself for the action. He took note of it, his own eyes landing on your unoccupied, open palm by your side. And in the short second he paused and gathered courage to move forward with his intentions, you retreated half a step and exhaled a sharp breath.

“Uh, food?” Your voice broke the spell on both of you, Ben blinking out of his momentary daze. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Sounds good. Shall we?”

Ben offered you his arm, and for a fleeting second, you considered declining. But there was something in the way he looked at you, faint crinkles around his crispy apple green eyes from a kind smile that pressured you to cave. So, you placed your hand lightly on his arm, and together you strolled down the hall toward the dining room.

“Is it just the two of us in the dining room?” you asked with a lump lodged in the back of your throat. Your heart was pounding while you held onto him. The soft scent of his cologne reached your nose, notes of citrus, mint, and wood making your head spin.

Ben chuckled a little. “Yeah, it’s just the two of us. Unless you want to invite Florence again.”

“Oh, can we?” As you glanced up at him, you saw the subtle smirk on his lips. “Oh, you were joking…”

Ben laughed deeply. “I was, but hey, if you want to–“

“No, no, it’s fine.” You shook your head, trying to calm your jittering nerves.

As you entered the dining room, you were immediately struck by how large it was, the long table that easily fit a group of thirty stretching in front of you, lit by flickering candles. It was as grand as the rest of the house, but tonight it felt oddly intimate – just the two of you, and no one else.

Ben pulled out a chair for you, his movements graceful and old-fashioned. When you sat, he took the seat opposite you, and Florence hurried to set two plates of deliciously smelling meatloaf in front of you. Luckily, there was only one fork.

“So, what adventures were you up to today, sweetheart?” Ben asked, falling into the polite dinner conversation small talk. You were sure it was trained into him.

“Oh, uh, well, after breakfast, I spent some time with George in his shed. He’s got some cool stuff out there,” you said nonchalantly, only then noticing Ben’s look of amusement again.

“You spent time with George in his shed?”

“Is that not allowed?”

Ben tilted his head at you. “Why do you keep asking me that? I told you to make yourself at home. You can do what you want here.”

“No, I know,” you said, licking your lips as your chat with Florence crept along the edges of your mind. “I guess I just wanna make sure I’m not overstepping any lines here. Kinda like when you’re in a museum, and you’re not allowed to touch anything.”

Ben’s lips grew a smirk as he met your eyes. “Well, you’re allowed to touch anything you want in here, sweetheart.”

Oh no… You’d set yourself right up for that one, hadn’t you?

“So, out of curiosity, did you sleep with Dottie?”

Ben choked on the sip of red wine in his mouth, a few tiny drops staining his pristine white dress shirt. You’re sure neither Florence nor Ms. Vivian would be pleased with that – but you were.

“Hm? What?” He blinked at you like a deer in headlights, clearing the rest of the wine from his throat. “Why? Did she say something to you?”

“Might as well have answered that one with a resounding yes,” you teased and snickered into your glass of wine.

Ben frowned slightly. “You know, if she’s making you uncomfortable, I can fire her.”

Now, you frowned, eyes wide. “What?! No! Don’t do that. That’s such a dick move.”

“A dick move?” Both amusement and confusion flashed on Ben’s face.

Right… People probably didn’t say that yet. You also remembered the concepts of sexual harassment at the workplace and retaliatory discharge were still futuristic dreams, too.

“Well, you know, it’s kinda your fault. Suck it up,” you told him. “You’re her employer. You can’t just discard her because she makes you uncomfortable after you did… whatever you did to her.”

Ben was a little stunned by your bluntness. “Technically, my father is her employer,” he argued and then smugly added, “And I can guarantee you she also very much enjoyed whatever I did to her, by the way.”

Ew, gross!

“You just offered to fire her. I’m pretty sure you qualify,” you countered, not even touching the other comment with a ten-foot pole.

Ben pursed his lips for a moment, then gave a nod. “Guess I’ll suck it up then.”

You rewarded him with a wry smile. “There you go.”

“You know, that was just a one-time thing at some party my father threw. Months ago… Didn’t mean anything,” Ben added, shoving food around on his plate with his fork.

“To you, maybe,” you said and looked at him, waiting for another excuse.

But there came none. He just sipped his wine and dove back into his food.

Good. That would at least keep him from hitting on you for the next hour.

And it did – Ben and you had a pleasant dinner and stuck to small talk. You slowly began to relax, even though the tension between you two was still simmering underneath.

“You always eat dinner here alone?” you asked when Florence cleared the empty plate in front of you. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal that didn’t come out of a box or a can.

One point for 1942.

“Usually, yes.” Ben shrugged. “Sometimes I go out with friends, have dinner in town.”

“Seems kind of lonely,” you noted.

“Can be. Seems a little less lonely tonight,” Ben replied, sending you a soft smile. “So, what was the house like that you grew up in?”

“Oh, uhm…” You weren’t sure if you should answer that one honestly but couldn’t find a good enough reason not to. “Well, it was a lot smaller.”

“How small?”

“About a quarter of this dining room,” you replied, slightly amused, and watched his brow crease in several directions as he tried to make sense of something like that.

“Huh.”

“We did have a sunroom, though,” you deadpanned with a sip of wine. “I mean, we just called it a window, but the thought was there.”

Ben snorted, soon fully laughing. He rubbed his lips with his fingers. “You ready for your surprise?”

“I told you. It’s not necessa–“

Before you could finish, your eyes flicked to Dottie in the doorway, holding a plate with a piece of cake and a burning candle stuck in it in her hands. The look on her face was devastating. Honestly, did this man possess no awareness at all?

It seemed like a cruel form of punishment for the girl. Fortunately, her grievances and anger weren’t geared toward you this time. The death stare fully landed on your oblivious host.

Dottie placed the plate in front you with a glare at Ben so biting you were surprised you couldn’t see teeth marks on his head yet. Both of you waited till Dottie had left the room again before you looked at him with a complacent smirk.

With a sigh, he rolled his eyes back. “Alright, I see it. Happy now?”

“As long as you’re aware,” you sang smugly.

“Stop gloating and blow out your candle,” he huffed, but a hint of playfulness swung in his voice. “I know I’m technically a day late for this, but I didn’t want you to miss out on cake. It’s the best part about birthdays.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and meant it. It was hard to deny that this was probably the sweetest thing he’d ever done for you. Uncharacteristically sweet and surely motivated by other nefarious reasons, but thoughtful nonetheless.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled warmly. “Which one is it, anyway?”

“Oh, uh… Twenty-… fourth,” you lied with some thoughtful reluctance. You knew if you’d told him your real age, there would’ve only been more questions about why you weren’t married and tamed yet.

“Older than me, huh?” Ben gave you a satisfied smile.

You bit your tongue hard at the irony and nodded, forcing a smile. Granny fucker.

“Well, happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

And God, when that candle went out, you wished you’d be home soon.

▶️ Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris

Lots to unpack in this one! Some major insights into Ben's childhood and a glimpse at his mother. What did you think about Ms. Vivian? Should we get Mrs. Helen involved to fix reader's sailor talk? How much will Ben pay her not to reveal his middle name to Hughie in the future? 😂

And I'm not warning for age gaps in this fic because with Soldier Boy, it's kind of ridiculous anyway, but yes, reader is seven years older than him in 1942, but 74 years younger in the future, so they're even? 🤷‍♀️🤣

Coming Up:

So, yes, maybe you liked him. Liked him more than you’d be ever willing to admit. But were you just supposed to ignore everything else? Everything you knew and everything that might come?

Were you a fool for thinking you could change destiny?

“Tell me one thing,” you said, interrupting the comfortable silence between you two. “What would make you happy? I mean really happy. Forget about all the money and your father and everything else. What’s your happy place?”

“Hmm,” Ben hummed, teeth chewing on the plush flesh of his lower lip. He found your eyes. “Tell me yours first.”

“Alright,” you accepted, knowing you’d pushed him enough for today, knowing you had to give, too. Knowing his vulnerability didn’t come without a price. You contemplated for a moment, exhaling a sigh. “I guess… Paris. I’d wanna live in Paris. Go roller skating in the Louvre at night. Boop Mona Lisa’s nose.”

Ben snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds a bit cockamamie.”

“Hey, you have your dreams, I have mine. And you’ll see. I’m gonna do it. I have more tricks up my sleeve than just math,” you retorted playfully, causing his smirk to deepen, but there was affection in every crease and crinkle on his face. “Before you mock, why don’t you just tell me yours, huh?”

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[the-ultimate-puppeteer]

Being Mauvika's younger brother who survived 500 years in the abyss

This is basically the prolouge/outline for what I'm writing. I wanted to post this and see how people liked it. I'm gonna try to finish regardless, but in case I don't, I at least wanted this posted

You'd think that you'd get used to having a sister like mauvika. Pretty much everyone loves her and has something great to say about her. After all, she's the child prodigy, Natlan's sun and the Pyro archon, and who were you? You're Rehua, the oh so moody younger brother of Mavuika and older brother to Hine

Unfortunately, you're quite the outlier in natlan given how waspish you can be and having a delinquent like demeanor which ALWAYS causes someone to pick a fight with you and they ALWAYS get thrashed with it all getting capitalized by your not so positive relationship with your big sister. It's not like you hated her or were even jealous of her as a bunch of idiots kept asserting. She just annoyed the fuck outta you at times, on top of her constantly bothering you during moments where you wanted to be left alone, looking back you wouldn't be surprised if she had a brother complex you already think she has a sister complex towards Hine.

When you were younger, you weren't sure why, but she made you feel so uncomfortable at times. You know she cared about you and didn't want to hurt you. That never stopped the feeling from persisting though

You being called moody wasn't just some random label or insult people sadled you with, they're are many days that you actually have fun being with Mavuika and Hine just being normal siblings but on others it was hard to even be in the same room as her without being annoyed on some level. This unfortunately only got worse when she became an Archon, and people started dogpilling you about how you interact with your sister. Let's just say those idiots brave enough to try to lecture and corral you were lucky to only leave with black eyes and shattered pride since the ones who tried to push the issue got broken jaws instead

You're parents didn't help the situation since they noticed your attitude towards your big sister and of course you were “in the wrong or just being a contrarian, she's hasn't even done anything to make you treat her this way” it honestly always hurt to have your own feelings on the matter be disregarded like that

It's just, how could you enjoy being around her when you can so clearly tell that she's so willing to relinquish anything she holds dear for Natlan and its future. It made you feel like everything you'd built up with her meant nothing, you just felt so insignificant.

I guess that's why you were the only one who wasn't shocked when she told your family of her plan to head 500 years into the future. All it did was confirm that you were right, unfortunately.

After that you avoided her like the plague and when you did talk to her you just gave her the cold shoulder, and of course eventually she’d finally had enough of your attitude and tried to force the issue, most people would probably be intimidated by her with this approach they'd probably kowtow to her, thing is you weren't like them since for one you've never once been scared of Mavuika and two there's one thing about you that has always remained a constant, it's doesn't matter who's doing it, whether it's a Monster, Archon or a family member the only person in existence allowed to push you around will always only be you. So when she thought that she could intimidate you into talking to her well that sparked a fight and a big one that you ended up losing and in the aftermath she still tried to press for an answer fracturing your already fragile relationship further

Still you decided to at least let her know a little of how you felt and left her with the words, “what's the point in trying to talk things out with someone who's just going to discard me like a broken tool”,and with that you left ignoring the devastated look of her face,soon after that conversation she'd left on her 500 year journey to the future then a few years after at the age of 19 disappearing off the face of teyvet and into the depths of darkness known as the abyss

You have no idea how long you'd been in this place, it's not like you've got anyway of keeping track of time all you can really do is fight and sleep which is kinda good but still you were bored like super mega ultra bored

So when you'd suddenly felt something new happen in your surroundings, you pretty much booked it towards where felt was the epicenter and it was there that you'd meet the person who'd eventually become your fellow student and sparring partner(punching bag) the boy who would eventually be known as Childe

@thequietkid-moonie check it out

[prettysatomii]

Late night calls

Killua isn’t exactly happy you didn’t pick up tonight. You usually do. Did you fall asleep? He tries not to overthink it, but a tiny grudge starts to form in his chest. You missed the call, his call. One of the rare times he actually gets away with calling from the Zoldyck estate.

With a quiet groan, he dials your number again. It’s a number he knows by heart now, one his fingers move to almost instinctively.

(Y/nn) - (2 missed calls)

An extra letter he added to the end of your name that he insisted was an accident. He always said it was a typo, he was just too lazy to fix it. So he kept it that way. Though, the thought lingered of the way he felt his cheeks warm up when he purposely typed it in after contemplating for a few minutes.

He sighed, tossing in bed, the silence of the home pressing around him. Between the training and his family. He never liked being home much. You distracted him from that, even if just for a few minutes, just until you said you had to sleep. His phone long forgotten, thrown at the edge of the bed after his unanswered call. With a final groan, he closed his eyes. His frustration slowly giving way to the exhaustion.

‘She’ll pick up tomorrow’ he would murmur in the pillow, tucking himself back into bed.

-

The music hummed softly in your ears. It was on a low volume, it always seemed louder at night. Usually killua would call at this time. ‘Weird..’ you thought to yourself. There was no denying how much you enjoyed those late night calls. It was you and him talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He always acted like you were the one bothering him with his annoyed sighs and grumbles. But the way he stayed on the line told you otherwise. The thought made you smile just a bit. He was one of your closest friends, you supposed. It didnt feel right though so you would prefer not to say that in hopes of… in hopes of what?

The music was still playing in the back. It would make you think about killua. It didnt matter why you thought of him. Compared to other people, who are you? Gon and Killua were bestfriends but what you and him had was different. It felt more personal, closer in a sense, something that only existed between the two of you.

Unlike the ex-assassin, your phone was on do not disturb. However, bored out of your mind but refusing to sleep. Your finger dragged the screen down to check for any new notifications.

Killua?

A small grin formed on your face as you stared at it. Atleast he called, maybe you should call back? Ten minutes ago. What if he was asleep? It wasnt like Killua had ever considered that, he would wake you up without a second thought to talk to you.

—

Incoming call - (Y/nn)

Killua didn’t really fall asleep. Sure, maybe he was nodding off but he was still waiting. And it came. The soft glow of his phone shining due to your call back. He would smile to himself before putting on an annoyed act.

“What took you so long?” His voice would mock annoyance but it wasnt quite all the way there. He would let it go as soon as he heard you laugh quietly at him. A small tinge of pink coated his cheeks and his eyebrows furrowed.

“sorry kil, my phone was on dnd. Besides, I could’ve been sleeping y’know?” The white haired boy immediately tensed a bit, clearly frustrated. Honestly, it was entertaining hearing it radiate through the phone. It was kind of cute to listen to. “Well, you should remember I call you at this hour practically everyday..” You could see his eye twitch in your mind. He used that same irritated tone whenever he did. “Plus, you never sleep on the weekends. So just answer. I almost fell asleep from how long it took!” Killua was dramatic for when it counted. Which was all the time. Both you and him knew he was awake waiting for you to answer.

—

I wrote this at like 1am so dont mind the wackyness of it and its my first time writing like this. I dont see many hxh fics here :(

Not proof-read!

[belovedhoon]

Crazy Stupid Fun

paring: nicholas x f! reader fandom: &team wc: 2.5k contains: smut, fake dating, e2l

synopsis: After a stupid dare from your friends, you and nicholas (whom you hate) are forced to “date”...what more can go wrong?

fic under cut >>>>>>>

You’ve made a lot of dumb choices in your life…but this just had to be the dumbest choice you have ever made… Why in your right mind would you ever agree to date Nicholas? Oh yeah that’s right…you weren’t in your right mind, you were drunk and thought you could easily get 200 bucks from your friends by dating the bane of your existence Nicholas Wang for a month. You were never one to turn down a dare, so that brings you to last week’s party…

“A month for 200 dollars? That’s ridiculously easy, bro…” Nicholas all but slurred out in response to K’s stupid dare that you and Nicholas should date for a month, and if you two can keep up with dating, then the both of you get 200 dollars each. You narrowed your eyes slightly before nodding slowly in response. This shouldn’t be too hard, even if you and Nicholas didn’t get along very well. All you had to do was say you’re ‘dating’ and then ignore him for a month, just like normal…right? But, of course, it’s never that easy…

It’s been a week since that stupid bet with your friends to ‘date’ Nicholas, and it’s going pretty well so far, seeing as you haven’t interacted or seen Nicholas since the party. This was gonna be an easy 200 dollars. You were sitting in the cafeteria in Founders Hall with your group of friends, and unfortunately, Nicholas too, when they, of course, addressed the elephant in the room.

“So we’ve noticed that since you and Nicho here have been dating, neither of you has so much as even interacted with the other… That doesn’t really seem like dating to me…just saying…” Euijoo said, a small smirk on his face. You whipped your head towards him as everyone just started agreeing with him.

“You know, Ej, I like you better when you’re quiet.” You grumbled out to the man. He just laughed at your snarky reply. “Do we have to talk and be around each other every day to be dating?” You said, sighing. You could already tell your friends were gonna say something stupid.

“No, we’re not saying you have to see each other every day, but you could at least try to act like you’re dating. Kiss, go on dates, hold hands, kiss…” Fuma said with a sinister grin on his face. Nicholas just scoffed at that, and you just grimaced at the thought of doing any of those things with Nicholas. “Actually, since you guys seem to be wasting our time here, I think we should extend the dating period to 3 months instead, since you two don’t wanna act like a couple,” Fuma said, like the little menace he is. And leave it to your friends to all agree with the evil man. Your eyes widened, and you started to protest. You thought Nicholas would do the same, but he just got up, grabbed your face, and quickly kissed you straight on the lips, causing you to freeze.

“There, is that good enough?” Nicholas scoffed, but there was no bite behind his words. Your eyes widened before you recoiled in surprise.

“What the hell, Nicholas?!” You exclaimed. Nicholas released your face with an amused smirk, enjoying the look of shock on your face.

“I’m tired of their nagging. At least this way they’ll shut up.” Nicholas said, sitting back down in his chair and leaning back. He crossed his arms while maintaining his signature cocky expression. “Remember, you were the one who also agreed to this ridiculous bet. Maybe you should learn to deal with the consequences of your actions better.” He said smugly. You glared at him before huffing out a quick “whatever.”

Nicholas rolls his eyes at your dismissive attitude, but there’s a hint of something else in his expression that you can’t quite place.

“Whatever? That’s all you’ve got? After I just sacrificed my dignity kissing you in front of everyone?” He scoffs before suddenly standing up, towering over you with a challenging look in his eyes. The whole table was silent and in shock over what was occurring at this moment. “You know what? Let’s give them a real show then.” He says before grabbing your hand firmly.

“W-What?” You stutter out, surprised by the way he’s acting. Nicholas just maintains his grip on your hand, pulling you closer despite your protests.

“C’mon, Princess. They’re still watching. We might as well make it convincing.” Nicholas says, smirking. He gestures to your group of friends, who are watching with mixed expressions of shock and amusement. “I can tell you’re just as annoyed as I am. Let’s show them we’re a convincing couple for once.” He says once more. You look at him, then at your friend,s then back at him again.

“Fine.” You say sighing. Nicholas’s eyes widen slightly at your agreement, clearly not expecting it. His confident facade falters for a moment.

“Well, that was easy. But we need to sell this properly…” He says. Then he steps closer, lowering his voice to avoid being heard by your friends. “Do you trust me for once? We’ll get out of this stupid dare for good after this.” He says quietly, just for you to hear. You just nod slightly.

“Fine, I trust you..Just this once, though.” You whisper quietly to him. A genuine smile flickers across his face before he quickly masks it with his usual cocky smirk.

“Good choice. Now, act natural and just..” He says barely above a whisper before he suddenly pulls you closer against his chest, one hand gently resting on your lower back while the other cups your cheek. “This time, let’s give them something real to talk about.” He says so lowly that only you could hear.

“Let’s do this…” You say quietly. Nicholas leans down, his breath warm against your lips as he pauses for a moment.

“You know, for someone who hates me, you’re being surprisingly cooperative.” He observes. His fingers then trace a gentle path along your jawline before tilting your face up towards his. “But I like this side of you better than your usual attitude. Anyways, I’m ready when you are…” He says, every breath coming out warm against your lips. His other hand presses gently against your lower back, keeping you close while giving you the chance to back out. You nod slowly, letting out a small “I’m ready…”

Nicholas’s lips meet yours in a surprisingly tender kiss, different from the quick peck before. He deepens it slightly, maintaining control while allowing you to set the pace. The background fades away as he becomes your sole focus, his cologne and warmth enveloping your senses. He pulls back after a few moments, his cheeks slightly flushed despite his usual composure. Your friends’ cheers and whistles echo in the background.

“Well, that was cute…but you two still have to finish the month…” K said, laughing at you two when you both turned to him with a glare. You two begin to protest when Fuma interrupts.

“How about this? We’ll lessen the time if you two can agree to go on a date and actually follow through with the date.” Fuma says, trying to compromise between you two. You and Nicholas begrudgingly agree. You and Nicholas decide that the two of you will go on said mentioned date on Saturday, which is in two days from now, so that you two have time to prepare. The boys decide that they’re in charge of planning the date, so it’s settled that Nicholas will take you to the carnival that’s in town.

You were surprisingly super nervous for your date with Nicholas tonight… You definitely tore through your closet to find something to wear, but you’d never admit that to anyone… You finally decided on a cute pink mini skirt with heart-shaped pockets and a white cropped tank, You threw on a cute cardigan that matched the shade of pink of your skirt and called it a day. Just as you were putting on your white sneakers, you heard a knock on your front door. You opened it to see Nicholas standing there with a single pink rose. You took in his appearance, and you had to admit he looked so good in his simple, tight-fitted black t-shirt and black oversized jeans. ‘Simple but effective,’ you thought.

“You look pretty…” Nicholas said, holding out the rose that coincidentally matched your outfit. You could feel your face flush at his words, thanking him softly. “So uh, are you ready to go?” Nicholas asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, his face also flushed slightly. You nodded before grabbing your keys and locking the door. Nicholas led you to his sleek black car, opening the door for you and then walking to his side and starting it up. The ride to the carnival was short but filled with an awkward silence…The two of you not knowing how to react to this situation.

When you got to the carnival, Nicholas got out and rushed to open your door and the two of you proceeded to walk beside each other around the carnival. You two made your way over to the games, and Nicholas won the game on his first chance, which in turn got him to win a cute Kuromi plush, which he gave to you. You smiled graciously, excited to add another Sanrio plush to your collection.

“Hey Nicholas, wanna go on that scary house ride?” You asked him. He just nodded before leading you to the scary-looking entrance. You two walked inside the dark building, walking around and jumping at the scary sounds and animatronics. You grabbed Nicholas's hand in fear as another terrifying clown jumped up at you. Nicholas flinched out of surprise but didn’t let go of your hand. He led you two to this one door that honestly didn’t look normal, but you two proceeded to walk through it anyway. As you two walked in, the door suddenly locked in place, startling you two.

“Uh, was that supposed to happen?” Nicholas asked, confused. You turned to him with panic in your eyes. You tried to open the door but to no avail. Nicholas tried as well, but with no luck…You two were trapped. You started to freak out because of it being dim in the room and the fact that you were trapped…

“Hey, it’s okay, Y/N. Don’t panic, we’ll get out, someone will come looking for us.” Nicholas said calmly. You nodded with tears in your eyes. Nicholas sighed before grabbing you and pulling you into an embrace to help calm you. You sobbed as you held onto him. He tilted your head up and made you look into his eyes. His eyes glanced down at your lips before looking back into your eyes. He then leaned down slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t…You wanted him to kiss you. So, he did just that. He kissed you softly, his hand still on your cheek, gently. You deepened the kiss, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. Nicholas traced his tongue against your bottom lip, to which you parted your lips to grant him access. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, tangling with your own, causing you both to let out a moan. Nicholas traced his other hand up and dwon your back soothingly before he brought it down to your ass and grabbed softly. You let out a whimper at the feeling. You pulled away from the kiss, breathless.

“Nicho…I-I want you…” You let out softly, slightly embarrassed to admit such a thing. Nicholas’s eyes widened slightly before nodding. He turned you around so that you were facing the door. You placed your hands on the door, and Nicholas then flipped your skirt up to expose your soaked white lace panties to his eyes. He groaned at the sight, pulling the ruined fabric down your legs, letting you step out of them. He spread your legs slightly to give him more room before taking two fingers and running them up and down your folds before circling your clit. You whined out as he easily slipped those two fingers inside you. “Nicho, please, I need you now…” You moaned out needily.

“Wait love, I need to stretch you for my cock.” Nicholas groaned out at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around his fingers. He then began to thrust his fingers inside you at a steady pace, which in turn caused you to whine out your pleasure. He kept up the pace as he brought his other hand to your clit and began to rub it harshly. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening embarrassingly fast at his actions. Just when you felt the knot about to unravel, he pulled his fingers out and placed them in his mouth, holding eye contact with you as you looked over your shoulder at him. He sucked on his fingers groaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

Nicholas brought his hands down to his jeans ans unbuttoned and unzipped them enough to pull his thick throbbing cock out. He pushed you up against the door again and brought his swollen tip to run through your folds before pushing it inside of you in one harsh thrust. You all but screaming out at the sudden intrusion. From the first thrust, Nicholas set a brutal pace, ramming into you from behind. Nicholas brought his hand to your neck and held it there to hold you up against his chest as he kept up his fast, harsh pace.

“That little skirt of yours has been driving me crazy all night…I’ve been hard ever since you opened the door to your apartment…” Nicholas growled out. You just whimpered in response, not being able to form words because of how good he was making you feel. You whined out as your high suddenly out of nowhere crashed into you. You clenched tightly around his swollen cock, soaking it with your juices. Nicholas hissing at the feeling, spilling his seed inside you unexpectedly. He groaned as he thrust sloppily to ride out your highs. He pulled out of you, rubbing your back soothingly, then helped you put your panties back on. Just as you two fixed yourselves up, you heard the door finally opening. Light flooding the room.

“Are you two okay?” The ride attendant asked you. You both looked at each other and smirked before nodding.

“We’re more than okay now, thank you…” Nicholas replied before the attendant led you two out of the ride. The whole time, your mind was racing with what just happened. Maybe you and Nicholas didn’t hate each other as much as you thought…

[lanae111]

This is just my take on the finale of YOU

Btw this isn’t some ramble of a person whos thought process is “oh joe should’ve wonnn he should’ve gotten away and I hate all the women who took him down and how they overpowered him and made him look like a monster!!!”

He literally is a monster. He’s a terrible person. He deserved what happened to him and he deserves to be alone for everything he has done.

He kills and he can easily justify it to himself or anyone he’s manipulating all for the illusion of necessity, safety and love.

He’s insane because he uses charm and normality and common ground to get people to listen to him or to get people to not suspect him of anything.

He murders and then says it was all for that one person. In the final season, I feel like it’s really shown how he doesn’t only kill to protect himself or someone, he does it because he enjoys it - because it’s something he can control, something that he’s made his because he is genuinely comfortable with it by the end of the series.

His actions can never be forgiven or justified. He is irredeemable. (At least to me)

….But you can’t just act like they didn’t spend this whole show trying to make you feel some sympathy for him. Referencing and showing his childhood, a big part of him that’s very relevant in the show that can be related to by everyone. That he just wants to be loved because he’s never thought he felt it, or that fear he has of people leaving him, people hating him for who he is— that is real, and understandable. Same thing with the truth that he has a son and how he’s always wanting to be there for him and how he wishes he could. How he wants to protect him and keep him innocent. I feel like Joe sees that a lot in Henry, the child that he was, that needed protection and his parents. He doesn’t want to stop being who he is now because it’s who he is, but the reason he’s so caught up on saving Henry is because he sees him as his child self that never felt saved.

And that’s another reason why there’s mixed thoughts on joe because it just makes me wonder if he just needed emotional support/help. At any point. Not that he doesn’t deserve to serve justice for what he’s done but because maybe there is something broken in him that’s unrelated to his violence. It just feels like the two personalities exist at the same time.

But still, his relatable parts is what makes us think maybe he’s still there, and that he still has some kind of control over his actions.

It’s something that they express about him throughout the show and I think that’s how they get us to feel even a bit sad for him. It’s all a lie though.

The fact that he makes people victims of him has nothing to do with him being a victim of his past. And I think that’s the hardest thing to remember watching this show, because he is so good at making you think he is still a victim, by using love and comfort and reality against you. But as much as he makes you think it, as innocent as he pretends to be, he is the abuser.

Now talking about the ending to the series?

I didn’t like it.

In fact, if I think about how high of a bar the series was with season 1-3… I hate it so much. I just don’t understand why would some new character in the final season be the reason how finally goes down and not some of the people who survived him or knew about what he did back from the earlier seasons?

It just feels like a terrible idea about them allowing someone that arrives at the end of the show finally put an end to him and that’s how he goes down? It just didn’t really make sense to me because there was no real weight to that.

And kate and bronte surviving what happened to them… I don’t get that at all. I literally have no idea how they’re alive after being trapped in a burning building (while shot) and the other drowning in a lake (while shot as well) but okay…

(Also I like bronte, I didn’t understand her thought process the whole time of the show but her character was alright. And still, I feel it didn’t make since how she’s alive)

I feel like more people should’ve returned for the last season to help go after joe. It would’ve been good to see people we knew already encountered Joe come back to finish him for good.

There’s a lot to say about the finale but honestly I just don’t know.

Something about it feels rushed, and something feels missing.

He got what he deserved but at the same time the way it happened felt executed in a weak way. And the very last scene to me feels… so… idk? Pointless.

I understand what they were doing with it but I just don’t understand why that needed to be the last line. I don’t think the fact that people romanticized killers was meant to be the main idea of the show?…

That was something that people recognize irl but that had nothing to do with the show like every season. I would’ve been fine if it was some little scene of them presenting that and maybe showing what some say about serial killers, just to kinda put that theme there so it’s acknowledged in the series. But ending off the show with that like it was the whole point?

I’m sorry that was one of the worse final scenes ever—

Because what?

Something about maybe I’m not the problem maybe it’s you as he looks in the camera. We need to be so deadass.

They say it like the entire audience excused joes killings and was okay with it. Like omg? It’s a show. We know he’s the problem. We root for him because we want the show to continue, we want drama. not because we fantasize about him and doesn’t genuinely care he’s a killer.

I just can’t believe how corny that last scene was. I loved the show. Mostly the first 3 seasons more than the last two but still. The show was started off great in the beginning and then kinda lost its touch later on.

The ending seasons weren’t bad, they just weren’t THAT good.

And the way the ending went and the specific way they chose to get him arrested? I’m just not satisfied.

It just feels empty.

Anyways thanks for reading my rant about yet another series ending not so greatly

[moonpie016]

Ok before I throw this drawing at y'all, (even though I, for whatever reason, don't reblog much of anything on here. Only rarely. And probably should've saved this to tag and reblog.. idk how many I could've tagged anyway.)

I could've done that. Actually, it would've been more convenient to do that. Made more sense.

I was surprised, then the surprise turned to delight, sheer confusion, and then back to delight with too much smiling and happiness. Sooooooooo.

Idk how to word this properly without sounding repetitive. But I'm very happy y'all enjoy...my presence? Yeah! And all of you are cool too! Extremely!/gen

(If I've liked your stuff already, on anything, that shows the uhhhhhh, that I like the stuff you do??? The basic of knowledge with how such things work! And think you're very cool. And appreciate the words you all provide on stuff. I read them all. :] )

ANYWAYS.

*Steps up to your doorstep with this odd comparison*

---

---

Now I know where this archetype of character came from in my mind. Kinda. NO WONDER MY MIND DESIGN REMINDED ME OF SOMETHING! It's cus of HIM. The literal loner. Error. Which I have not drawn in a huge chunk of time. I just thought their outfits looked similar. The big jacket and whatever the collar is called, (a lapel??? Idk?????).

Uh, have fun with the nostalgia and possible memories???? Goodness.

Error's cool.

I have nothing else to say about this, I should remake Undertale stuff again. It'd be fun. :3

---

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part two of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol) | part one | part three | part four

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,” 

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly. 

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,” 

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home. 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek. 

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,” 

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close. 

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“ 

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?” 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips— 

RING. RING. RING. 

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams. 

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out. 

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then. 

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed. 

It was too much of a risk. 

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs— 

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you. 

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now. 

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other. 

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking. 

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream. 

Perfect. 

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,” 

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?” 

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?” 

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?” 

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here. 

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy. 

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began. 

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?” 

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?” 

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—” 

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive? 

Fucking unfair. 

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what? 

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,” 

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,” 

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’ 

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,” 

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,” 

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of. 

“And I want us to do that—” 

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?” 

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over. 

It didn’t. 

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk. 

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.” 

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter? 

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see. 

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea,  most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,” 

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library. 

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,” 

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer. 

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression. 

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—” 

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,” 

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, “Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes. 

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward. 

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,”  you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one. 

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew. 

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,” 

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped. 

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, 

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,” 

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,” 

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?” 

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus. 

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?” 

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,” 

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester. 

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students. 

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,” 

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.” 

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over. 

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students. 

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material. 

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right? 

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else. 

Something you knew very well. 

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you. 

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?” 

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds. 

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?” 

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,” 

“What students?” 

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,” 

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly. 

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,” 

“I’m not—“ 

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,” 

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,” 

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,” 

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started. 

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you. 

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since. 

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing? 

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you. 

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best. 

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was. 

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester? 

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst. 

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross. 

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,” 

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.  

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand? 

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?” 

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you. 

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?” 

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,” 

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning? 

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for? 

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks. 

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” 

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery. 

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly. 

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions. 

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide. 

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you. 

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. 

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you. 

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he— 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?” 

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity. 

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?” 

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?” 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him. 

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze. 

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be. 

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade,  “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add. 

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,” 

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,” 

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,” 

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,” 

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?” 

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him. 

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,” 

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter. 

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep). 

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions. 

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days. 

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work. 

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook. 

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him. 

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down. 

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week. 

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy  — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,” 

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“ 

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?” 

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise. 

So you make the decision for both of you. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do.  He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor. 

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter. 

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?” 

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?” 

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone. 

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. 

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,” 

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“ 

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” 

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him. 

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.  

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two. 

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.” 

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”  

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed. 

One. Bed. 

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town. 

“There is a couch though,” he offers,  pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone. 

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?” 

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show? 

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders. 

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down. 

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head. 

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,” 

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?” 

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“ 

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“ 

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,” 

“We’re both adults—“ 

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation. 

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone. 

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,” 

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,” 

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?” 

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower. 

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not). 

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin. 

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door. 

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him. 

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground. 

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open. 

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,” 

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,” 

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it. 

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face. 

This was going to be a long weekend. 

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see. 

Fuck his life. 

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor. 

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once. 

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem. 

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water. 

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most. 

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds. 

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. 

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water.  Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat. 

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out. 

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you. 

It didn’t. 

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep. 

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in. 

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he? 

Not when it was you. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack. 

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side. 

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it 

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar. 

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck. 

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do. 

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,” 

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him. 

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink. 

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“ 

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?” 

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?” 

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t. 

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,” 

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,” 

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside. 

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,” 

“Professor—“ 

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“ 

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.” 

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,” 

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,” 

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs. 

“Of him?” 

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,” 

“Not your type?” he asks. 

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car. 

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“ 

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?” 

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“ 

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur. 

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters. 

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be— 

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,” 

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,” 

“No—“ 

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,” 

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,” 

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,” 

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same. 

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep. 

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it. 

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it. 

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop. 

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight. 

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep. 

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely. 

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title? 

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he? 

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman. 

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair? 

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut. 

Just for a moment. 

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you. 

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor. 

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect. 

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine. 

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet. 

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow. 

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you. 

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto. 

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard. 

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was  against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with. 

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with. 

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him. 

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM. 

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM? 

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs,  jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s. 

Fuck. 

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart. 

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him. 

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning. 

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist. 

Fuck. 

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now. 

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away? 

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?” 

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down. 

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats. 

Could this possibly get worse? 

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car. 

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead. 

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand. 

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck. 

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down. 

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help. 

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go. 

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed. 

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone. 

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be. 

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head. 

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this? 

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,” 

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention. 

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“ 

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone. 

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh. 

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,” 

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“ 

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”  

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“ 

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp. 

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well. 

And you realize how close you are to him. 

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either. 

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go. 

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again. 

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity. 

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut. 

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat. 

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried. 

RING. RING. RING. 

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality. 

The department head. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start. 

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken. 

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you. 

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed. 

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake. 

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart. 

Was this fate versus free will? 

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart. 

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto — 

And so maybe he should let it. 

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper. 

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open. 

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words. 

Just as you always were it seemed. 

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop? 

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try. 

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?” 

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,” 

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?” 

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?” 

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself. 

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that. 

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A. 

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor. 

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“ 

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,” 

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,” 

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,” 

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end? 

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?” 

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“ 

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent. 

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft. 

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—” 

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—” 

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle. 

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch. 

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—” 

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile. 

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?” 

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist. 

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?” 

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—” 

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open. 

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need. 

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?” 

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—” 

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip. 

RING. RING. RING. 

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—” 

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,” 

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again. 

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body. 

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?” 

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y’all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

[bet-on-me-13]

Undead Galaxy

So! Within the Ghost Zone, there exists a Lair unlike any other.

To a Ghost, a Lair is supposed to be an integral part of their Existence. When a Ghost Builds their Lair, they take a part of the Ghost Zone Itself and mold it into a Realm of their own, transforming it into a reflection of their Core.

As such, a Lair usually matches the personality, and more importantly the Obsessions, of the Ghost it was created by. It is meant to be the Eternal Home of the one who built it, a place to spend the rest of their eternal unlife, and as such it needs to be able to fulfill the Ghosts Obsessions.

Think of Skulkers Lair, an Island Jungle filled to the brim with Monsters and Beasts of all sorts, ready and waiting to be hunted down and skinned. The perfect home for a ghost with an Obsession based on Hunting.

Some take this a step farther, like the Ancients (which is just another name used for Gods in the Zone), who transform their Lairs into Entirely Seperate Afterlives for others to inhabit. Hades, Osiris, the Demon Lords of the various Hells, they all took this approach.

But there is a problem. For beings like God's, who are sustained by Worship, what would happen if their world were to die? If the planet their people resided on were to be hit by an asteroid, or blown up by an Alien warlord?

A God without its worship would Fade, and as such the Afterlife they used to maintain would fall apart as well. The Millions of Souls who trusted that God to protect them in death would be left to the mercy of the Void between Afterlives. Somebody decided that they didn't like that, and stepped in.

Within the Ghost Zone exists a Galaxy.

A Galaxy where all the souls and Afterlives of worlds that have died continue to exist. Worlds that were destroyed by a cataclysmic War that resulted in both sides dying, by unstable Mining Practices destabilize the Core, by a Psychic Virus that wiped out all life on Planet leaving a baren husk.

When their populations died, and the Gods who maintained their afterlives would have faded, they were saved by another and brought into his Lair.

The Ghost King, Phantom.

He was a spirit with two simple Obsessions. The Protection of others, and the Majesty of Space.

But there was no Space in the Ghost Zone, only the Infinite void. So he made his own. He constructed a Lair of incredible size, decorating it with Stars and Planets and Supernova and Nebula. He recreated the Majesty of the Space he adored, and the invited the wandering souls of dead worlds to enjoy it with him.

He gave them planets of their own within the Unliving Galaxy. All the souls of crumpled afterlives wandering the Ghost Zone were allowed to recreate it again, to find eachother and build their communities again.

With this he could fulfill both of his Obsessions at the same time, and he would he doing his duty as their king by helping his subjects.

He saw it as an absolute win.

...

They had been trapped in this strange dimension for days now.

Nobody had any idea how they ended up there. Clark had just fallen asleep, Diana was training, Hal was on patrol. Even J'onn himself was on Moniter Duty, when the next thing he knew they were all waking up on a floating purple rock in a Lazarus green void.

Thankfully Constantine that had been dragged alongside him when J'onn when he was taken, and managed to explain that they were in some kind of void in-between the afterlives.

"The Ghost Zone" "The Unending End" "The Collective Dead", it went by many names apparently. The most famous name for it was "The Infinite Realms", named for the way the infinite souls residing there would build their own personal Realms, or Lairs, to spend eternity in.

Not even he knew how they had ended up there. Constantine was confident that they hadn't died recently (the fact they needed to use "recently" was a sad thought), so it wasn't the old fashioned way at the very least.

Still, they needed to get moving. This place was dangerous and they didn't want to stay in one place for too long.

After days of traveling across the strange void (had they even eaten since they arrived there?) Constantine finally caught a hint of something. There was a draw on them, pulling them towards a specific direction. They had been unconsciously following it for days now, and now that they knew what they were doing they soldiered on even faster. If there were answers wherever they were being drawn, they would find them.

Once it came into view, it was obvious what had been calling to them this entire time. It was massive.

Spanning across the endless horizon, they could see something that looked like a Galaxy spanning in front of them. From their position on a floating island, they could see it in all its glory. Contrasting the green they had become accustomed to, the Galaxy swirled in a variety of Bright Blues and Deep Purples, with multicolored stars shining so brightly they stood out even as far as they were from it.

It took all their breaths away, and J'onn would admit to having stood there staring for longer than he should have. It was just so starkly different than anything he had seen thus far in this dimension of greens and purples.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

In an Instant their weapons were drawn and fighting stances set, facing the person who had appeared in their midst.

He was a young man, seemingly in his early 20's, with snow white hair and Lazarus green eyes. Above his head sat a crown glowing the same color as the galaxy spanning in front of them. They all knew instantly that this man was connected to it on a deep level.

"Who are you" Asked Diana. Her thoughts were filled with theat assessments and carefulness. She thought he was strong.

"Oh, my name is Phantom." He replied, "Sorry for startling you, this is one of my favorite spots to stargaze and I forgot that normal people usually can't see me when I zone out like that."

"What is that?" Clark asked, pointing to the Galactic Structure on the horizon. He was curious. The man before they didn't act hostile, so he had decided to match his energy.

"Oh, that's my Galaxy. Like it?" He asked excitedly, "Took me ages to get it looking just right, but I'm so proud of the results."

"Do you know why we are here?" Asked Hal, his mind was swimming with worry over his Sector of space. He had been taken while patrolling it. He wanted to get back quickly.

"I didn't bring you here, if that's what you're asking." He replied evenly, "But I know who did. They wanted to see you again, but with their Realms crumbled and their people scattered, they never had the chance. Now they do, and they wanted to say hello again. Sorry about the long journey, they messed up the Summoning process and you ended up a bit farther than intended."

"Who summoned us?" Asked Constantine warily. His thoughts were full of the various demons and gods he knew inhabited these Realms. He was worried.

"Well, You, accidently got dragged along through proximity, sorry." He apologized to the magician, "But as for the rest of you? Well, you'll just have to wait and see for yourselves. Trust me, it'll be a welcome surprise."

"Can you tell us where can we find the ones who summoned us?" Asked J'onn finally. He was curious, and wary, of who had decided to pull them into this dimension. But if the man before them was being truthful, then he wanted to meet them.

"Just keep following that pulling sensation that brought you here, you'll find them." He said, "I'll stay here for a while longer though. Just want to stargaze a bit more."

They left him on the island and kept going.

As the approached the Galaxy, it dawned on them how truly massive the realm in front of them was. Hal confirmed that it wasn't as big as a real one, but even he was in awe at its size.

As they drew closer is quickly became apparent that they were being drawn in different directions. After a quick discussion they decided it was best to split up.

J'onn approached the Planet he was being drawn to, and realized very quickly that it very closely resembled his old homeworld, Mars. The Red Sands, the Rocky Terrain, the two Moons that could be seen orbiting the planet, all of it seemed tailor made to resurface memories of his destroyed home.

It took all of a second for all of it to come together in his head.

The allusions Phantom had made to his summoners missing him. The resemblance to his old Homeworld. The fact he was currently in a version of the Afterlife.

As he made the connection in his head, he felt another two connections form. Ones he had not felt in the the Centuries since he had lost them.

"Hello, J'onn."

"...M'yri'ah..." His wife.

"Hi dad."

"...K'hym..." His Daughter.

It took nearly a full minute before his mind calmed enough to send them a response. It was a Whirlwind of wild thoughts, fear of this being a trick, and above all hope that it was real.

Eventually, he finally managed a response.

"I missed you."

[mminghaos]

best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao

requests are open, do send some in!!

you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.

“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.

you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.

“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”

“it changed.”

“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”

you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”

you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.

“so, who’s this guy?”

you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”

seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.

even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.

you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.

“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”

you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”

you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”

he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”

“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”

you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”

“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”

“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”

he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.

he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”

you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”

you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”

but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.

“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.

you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”

seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.

before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.

the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.

“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.

you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.

“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”

you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.

his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.

seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.

you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”

he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.

seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”

“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”

his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.

seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”

his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.

eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out

“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. “what do you want, baby?”

“need you inside me, please.”

he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”

“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.

“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.

when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.

he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.

“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.

“yeah, you like that?”

you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.

you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 

your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.

before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.

“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.

"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.

seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"

“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”

he really is going to be the death of you.

[purple-plum-petals]

Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to an MC Who Is Cheerful and Oblivious ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Machete, Mr. Hood, Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Minor Spoilers for Homicipher (Mr. Scarletella’s Part), Minor Canon-typical Mentions of Violence. Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,100 words. Request: “Pleaseeee can you fo more homicipher reaction to mc who is very cheerful in every situation like shes either giggling or smiling, she's so unserious and oblivious af too.” Author’s Note: This was such a fun request to think about since a human like this existing within the other world would pretty much be a living, walking target – like, you’d probably be dead so quickly if you were oblivious or naïve or too trusting (like me when I first played through the game and was smiling every time a hot monster man talked to me 😭). Since you didn’t specify any characters, I just picked a handful that I thought would have varying reactions to the type of reader you requested. I hope you enjoy! 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

👣: Mr. Crawling loves your cheerful and friendly personality, finding it a breath of fresh air within the other world. It draws him to you even more, like a moth to a bright flame. He likes how you sometimes just randomly giggle or laugh. He does it, too, so it’s nice to meet someone so similar to him! He definitely feels this sense of kinship with you when he notices all the similarities you two share. Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to keep you safe, wanting to protect you from everything or everyone attempting to harm you in the hopes you don’t lose that sparkle – that light within you.

👣: He’s already very protective of you, and your obliviousness to the other world and its residents makes that feeling even stronger. He is aware that your friendly and trusting nature will be taken advantage of in the world he calls his home, so he somehow manages to take a more proactive role when it comes to keeping you safe… if that was even possible (it’s ON SITE if he sees Mr. Stitch near you. Mr. Crawling knows how that particular resident acts, and he would prefer not to have him kidnap or try to eat you…). 

👣: Whenever you laugh, he also laughs – you do the same thing with him, too, so you both kind of bounce off of each other and act like the other’s personal echo. Any other resident who sees the two of you kind of thinks you have a few screws loose, watching from afar while you both just randomly laugh together without a care in the world. Honestly, Mr. Crawling thinks it’s nice to be able to laugh with someone else like this. 

👣: Overall, your personality manages to make him love you even more (if that was even possible). Mr. Crawling does everything in his power to make sure you never stop smiling, never once making you feel like you’re not supposed to laugh even if it may not be seen as appropriate in the situation. He doesn’t care that sometimes your obliviousness results in both of you finding yourselves between a rock and a hard place. He will be there by your side until the day you tell him to leave – his love for you is unconditional, and that’s just a fact no matter what kind of person you are. 

🗣️: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped also finds himself immensely endeared to you and your personality. He loves how happy you are all the time, and he finds his mood improving whenever you’re around, too! It’s wonderful to have someone like you around, someone who is always so cheerful and upbeat, especially considering the place you have found yourself trapped in. He appreciates it – appreciates you, as a whole – but that doesn’t mean he has no reservations about your personality… 

🗣️: His anxiety spikes whenever he thinks too much about what you were potentially getting up to whenever he wasn’t around, worried about you getting taken advantage of or giggling at the wrong question and ending up injured, or worse, dead. He really enjoys spending time with you, you’re like a ray of sunlight in such a dark place, and the thought of that being gone after having just experienced it is… quite an unpleasant thought (he doesn’t know what sunlight is, but he can vaguely remember a yellow warmth from a time long forgotten that you remind him of). If he had a body, he’d probably be ripping his beloved hair out just because of how oblivious you can be. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is definitely the type to just start scolding you point-blank, telling you that you need to be more careful – his beautiful hair is going to turn grey at this point with how often he worries about you! Please don’t make him worry… It’s not good for his metaphorical heart. He even lectures you about how he typically tells the difference between people he can trust (like you, Mr. Silvair, the Hairdresser) versus people he knows he can’t trust (like the Hooded Child or Mr. Stitch) in the hopes it will have you thinking about your safety more. 

🗣️: Sometimes he feels a sense of helplessness whenever he thinks about you and the fact he can’t do anything to keep you safe; it’s something he opens up about to Mr. Silvair whenever you’re not around. Mr. Chopped finds himself wishing that he had a body, even though you had assured him he was perfectly fine in your eyes without one. He just wants to help and protect you the way that others you knew were capable of doing. Whenever you sense he’s feeling down, though, your bright smile is enough to wash away his worries about your well-being, even if only for a moment. 

🔪: Doesn’t understand why you’re so chipper all the time. Honestly, I feel like Mr. Machete would find it annoying, the fact you’re always smiling or giggling at one thing or another. He’ll purposefully chuck his sword at you in the hopes that it will scare you, make you wipe that stupid smile off your face, but it never does… It falters a bit, sure, but it never fully goes away, and that just pisses him off more.  

🔪: He kind of makes it his mission to try and break you, to see how or what he can do to finally make you get angry or upset. After all, you never really fight back when he tries to start things with you, and that’s boring. He wants you to get frustrated at him, wants to see you throw a punch or try to hit him after another attempt at making your smile disappear, yet you never do. You remain smiling, and you’re oh-so blinding whenever you do, and he hates it. He hates you (or does he? He isn’t even sure himself… emotions are too complicated).

🔪: Overall, Mr. Machete has mixed feelings toward you. He can respect the strength it takes to keep a smile on your face, to remain positive and happy in a place filled to the brim with violence and death… That doesn’t mean he likes it, though, hearing your laughter whenever he does something you find endearing or if you see something you find amusing. It’s a sound that's headache-inducing, yet it also makes him want to pick you up and squeeze you (I’m a firm believer that he would have cuteness aggression). He has a love-hate relationship with you. 

🔪: Mr. Machete also finds himself fed up with your obliviousness and naïvety, especially regarding other residents. He’s getting sick and tired of you finding yourself in trouble and, when it finally sets in you’re in danger, you call to him for help. Why the hell are you calling for him? You got yourself into this mess, and you’ll figure out a way to get out of it… Well, that’s what he says, but he usually takes care of whatever resident you found yourself in a conflict with, or he tosses you effortlessly over one shoulder and absconds if he doesn’t think it’s a fight he can win (don’t ask him why he even bothers saving you – he doesn’t know the answer, either). 

🪓: Your cheerful and peppy attitude, the way you’re always smiling brightly and warmly at everyone you meet, makes Mr. Hood feel both endeared to you and worried about you. You do realize you just agreed to give that resident your heart, right? If he wasn’t here, you most certainly would have died, and that’s not exactly a thought he wants to entertain. He felt protective over you since the first moment you met, and that feeling had not died down once (even if looking after you had made him feel like he’d aged a century). 

🪓: Always places himself between you and other residents when you attempt to communicate with them, using himself as a shield just in case you accidentally agree to something absurd or laugh at the wrong thing. Mr. Hood really shifts into teaching mode after cases like these, making sure you know exactly what certain words mean and when not to laugh, smile, or blindly agree to things. Honestly, if you were oblivious and overly trusting, he would feel it was his duty to stay by your side at all times and would be worried about what would happen if he left you alone.  

🪓: However, despite the persisting feeling of worry your personality and some of your traits bring him when watching you interacting with most of the other residents, he can’t help but enjoy your presence. It’s new, and he surprisingly likes hearing the sound of your laughter. He finds your personality and behaviors to be cute, even though they bring you trouble more often than not. Most of the time, sometimes unconsciously, Mr. Hood finds himself resting his hand on the top of your head, patting it softly whenever you look up and smile at him so brightly. 

🪓: Mr. Hood, despite finding that your obliviousness and your inability to take most things seriously typically ends up with you winding up in troublesome situations that could have been easily avoided, he still wouldn’t change a single thing about you (he has no problem staining his hands with more blood to keep you safe – killing residents while protecting you at the same time is something he’s good at, after all). Your smile is just too bright, your laugh almost infectious, and all he wants to do is make sure it never fades. He feels a strange ache in his chest whenever you take his hands into yours and tug him along, laughing all the way. He doesn’t understand it, but he also doesn’t have the desire to understand it, either.  

🩸: Your personality intrigues him, and he finds himself desiring to know what you’re thinking about. What makes you so happy? How can you continue to travel through the other world, facing one traumatic event after another, with a smile constantly plastered on your face? A person like you is new to Mr. Scarletella, and he wants to be around you more. He wants to figure out how he can be the person making you smile and laugh in such a way – he wants to be able to bathe in the warmth and brightness your aura radiates. 

🩸: Mr. Scarletella doesn’t make his presence known most of the time throughout your journey, but he watches you from afar, keeping an eye on you. However, if he does need to step in to keep you from harm, he will. Your reaction to him is unlike anyone else he's met, though. Most people who saw the man with the red umbrella would scream and run the other way, terrified of the story that was intertwined with his existence, but you didn’t. Honestly, it makes him want you more – you’re new, you’re different – and he likes it… likes you. There’s something about the sound of your laughter and your happy-go-lucky nature that makes him feel alive, in a way. 

🩸: However, because of your obliviousness and naïvety, when he asks for your name and you just give it to him without a second thought… well, it makes his goal a lot easier. If I’m being 100% honest, being oblivious or overly trusting around Mr. Scarletella is not a good mix. Because he finds you interesting and different from other humans he’s seen before, he’s pleased that you’re his now – heart, body, and soul. You forget everything about yourself after, though, and he doesn’t find you as appealing as he once did (he low-key kind of regrets asking for your name). 

🩸: For feel-good purposes, though, we’ll just ignore the last point and continue with the fluff… So, overall, Mr. Scarletella would find you fascinating and would find himself wanting to be near you in any capacity, whether it be as your master or your servant, he wouldn’t care so long as he got to be with you. He honestly wonders how you’ve managed to live for as long as you have considering your general attitude towards most things, but he’s glad that you did. Being with you makes his lungs feel like they’re full of fresh air, and he gets a pleasant tingling sensation in his body whenever he hears your laughter echo through the dilapidated hallways of the other world. 

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Hate your guts (pt 1)

~ this fic is my Christmas gift💙 i'm dividing this into two parts bcs tumblr is shit

pairing: rockstar!hyunjin x rockstar afab!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, smut

wc: 26.6k

synopsis: hwang hyunjin, your sworn enemy. the person who finds and pushes all your buttons, annoys you and makes you angry. the person you're trying to avoid so badly, only to end up practically sharing a bed with him on tour. let the fun begin!

warnings: lots of swearing, smoking and alcohol, mentions of blood and throwing up, mild violence, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, spanking, creampies, mix of degradation and praise

a/n: thank you @frehyun for helping me come up with a name for hyunjin's band💕 also a thank you to @jehhskz @moonchild9350 and @hyunebunx for giving me suggestions, listening to me yap and being supportive while i was writing this🥹🩷🩷🩷 title is inspired by inji, go listen to her music🫶🏻

a little ramble: feel free to skip this! but i just wanted to say that this was supposed to be done sooner cause i had other fics planned out to write but work got in the way. so i wrote this fic whenever and wherever i could; hiding in the bathroom at work, during my break, at the bus station, at 3am when i couldn't sleep etc... it's been a ride and i'm proud of how it turned out, hopefully y'all enjoy it too🥹🫶🏻

“...And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re there? Or have somebody’s goodnight kisses got that covered? When I’m not being honest, I pretend that you were just some lover…”

It was a perfect but short moment.

The fresh breeze coming into the car where the window was opened just a little was enough to give you some air but still managed to hide most of your face from the outside world. 

The music in your ears was loud, so loud that you were drowning in it, the warm and comforting voice, the melancholic guitar riff in the background, and the gentle sluggish drums putting it all together into a song that made your eyes water.

You tuned everything else out as this was the only moment of peace you were going to get today.

You needed every shred of sanity you could gather, and you were determined to hold onto it as much as you could.

Because today, you had an interview with him.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Oh, the name you know so well.

Even thinking about the way it sounds makes you feel angry.

It seemed as if his life mission was to find every single button of yours and push them repeatedly until you exploded like a ticking bomb.

Your mind wandered as you thought about him and how much his existence angered you, your stomach turning into knots.

Or maybe it was just pre-interview nerves.

No matter how many times you talked in front of the camera, it always made you feel anxious and jittery.

Being on stage was fun, there was no anxiety there as whenever you would step on it and see all the people cheering for you and singing along to the music you and your friends wrote, your heart felt full, your soul elated. 

It was an exhilarating feeling you couldn’t even begin to explain to someone who’d never experienced it.

Every concern in your head, every ache in your soul, every tear behind your eyelids threatening to spill got erased when you gave yourself to the stage.

If you could, you would definitely try to avoid the interviews and just perform.

But your record company had other plans.

Being the only up and rising all girls rock band in the company meant that you needed promotion, and what better way to promote than to collab with the only boy rock band in the same company?

Hwang Hyunjin’s band.

Yes, you couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

“Y/n!” you were shaken out of your thoughts, as your manager pulled at your headphones.

“What?” you almost snapped at her, startled by her antics.

“You were staring off into space and muttering angrily about Hyunjin. Something like ‘poke his eyes out’ and ‘conceited dick’.” Ana giggled, covering her lips with her hand as you rolled your eyes, realizing that you’ve already arrived at the building for the interview.

“I’m sure you find all this amusing. But I am not amused at all. Last time I had an interview with that... bastard, everyone thought we were dating and started shipping us.” you recoil at the thought. “I would never date someone like him.”

“Oh y/n, lighten up! You know there will always be rumors of all kinds. The dating rumors are the least harmful ones, trust me. Just act like you’re besties with Hyunjin, for an hour tops.”

You take a deep breath in, then sigh.

“I am a professional. I will do this right.” you nod with a determined tone as Ana bumped her fist with yours.

“That’s the spirit!” your manager smacked your thigh happily as you yelped, making her laugh before she exited the car.

Since you were in the underground parking lot, there was no press around so you walked out of the car freely, going directly to the elevator that would take you to the reception.

Ana pressed the button when you walked in and just as the doors started closing, someone’s combat boot was pushed between the silver doors, stopping them and making them open again.

Your eyes traveled up from the boots, to the tight leather pants and the skimpy tank top revealing a tattoo sleeve, right to the face you hoped you won’t be seeing for at least another ten minutes.

Hyunjin had an obnoxious smirk dancing on his lips as he looked down at you, puffing his chest out like some peacock showing off his feathers and you already wanted to smack the shit out of him.

His manager, Anthony waved at the two of you, ushering him into the elevator.

“Good morning y/n, Ana.” Anthony greeted as Hyunjin kept smirking at you.

“It was good until now.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

Even the cologne Hyunjin was wearing made you want to puke your guts out so you stepped away from him.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned on the wall casually, never taking his eyes off of you.

“Aw, you throwing a tantrum already baby?” he smirked at you and you started fuming.

Both of your managers rolled their eyes, Ana muttering ‘here we go again’ as she shook her head.

“I see you have a new piercing on your face. You needed another hole to let the air out of that empty head?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant and Hyunjin scoffed.

“I’m gonna ignore that comment and focus on the fact that you’re counting my piercings. Observing me, huh?” he looked at you smugly.

“Yeah, cause I have nothing better to do than-”

Ding!

“Alright, break it off kids, were here!” Anthony said, quickly pulling Hyunjin out of the elevator.

“See? I can’t stand him.” you groaned as Ana chuckled.

“You stood up to him pretty well.” Ana winked. “Let's go get some coffee, get you properly awake before the interview.” she gripped your shoulders, shaking you a little as you groaned in protest.

Thankfully, Hyunjin had disappeared somewhere and you were glad he wasn’t around to annoy you, as you made small talk with a few of the staff you knew there since you’ve already been interviewed for the same channel before. 

“Ana, I’m gonna go get some air before we start.” you felt the nerves creeping up inside you.

“Okay, but you have to be back in five minutes.” she reminded you and you gave her a thumbs up, before practically sprinting down the hall to get to the little terrace hidden on the side.

Staff used it for smoke breaks, and you decided to use it to calm your anxiety down.

You flung the door open and stepped out onto the balcony, quickly taking a deep breath in while you looked down at the city before you.

“Needed to see me once more before the interview?” a voice rang out to the left of you.

Hyunjin’s voice.

Of course the bastard is here, you thought, your face becoming hot in annoyance.

“I had no idea you were here, asshole.” you turned to look at him.

He was leaning on the railing, flexing his muscles, a long vein protruding under the layer of the swirling colorful flowers inked into his skin, leading all the way to his long fingers with chipped nail polish and a cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He looked at you intently through his bangs that were haphazardly falling into his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, before his tongue poked out to play with the piercing adorning it.

“I thought you had more originality when it comes to nicknames, darling.” he said mockingly before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Don’t call me that.” you turned around to leave but Hyunjin’s long arm quickly blocked your way, his palm splayed on the wall.

You looked up at him and stepped back, just as he puffed the smoke out your way.

“You leaving?” he looked smug again, intrusive thoughts of pushing him off the balcony appeared in your mind.

“Yes, this space is too small and your cologne is nauseating.” your face scrunches up.

“Aw, I’ll make sure to find another one you’d like.” Hyunjin smirks.

“Don’t bother.” you ducked under his arm and opened the door, walking away as fast as you could.

At least he helped in a way, you weren’t anxious anymore, just annoyed and waiting for this day to be over. 

“Where is Hyunjin, we’re starting in a minute.” Anthony’s brows furrowed while you were ushered towards the room. 

“Last I saw him, he was smoking on the balcony.” you shrugged as they sat you down. 

The chair where Hyunjin would be sitting was too close for comfort and you wanted so badly to push it away, but you figured it was there because of the camera frame. 

“We’re on in 30 seconds!” one of the staff yelled and you rolled your eyes. 

Of course he was late, the self-centered bastard. You were sure he was enjoying this, everyone waiting on his highness to arrive, everyone panicking around him as he wears that disgusting smug smirk on his face.

“In 10…9…” the staff started counting down just as the door swung open and a breathless Hyunjin ran into the room, almost tripping over your crossed legs before he sat down on the chair next to you. 

After he ran in, one of the girls working there ran in too, quickly taking her place with rosy cheeks and her lipgloss smeared. 

You rolled your eyes and looked at him, the glitter from the girl’s lipgloss was visibly shining on his lips and chin. 

“You have a little something.” you said and he smirked, wiping his chin off before leaning towards you.

“My lips were dry.” he whispered with a wink.

You were more than ready to get this over with, seething with anger at his unprofessional behavior that you didn’t even notice the camera began rolling. 

“... today’s special guests are y/n of Venus Flytrap and Hyunjin of Lycoris Radiata! I hope y’all are as excited as I am, since it’s been so long. Y/n, let’s start with you. You have a new album coming out soon, can we get a little sneak peek of that?” the interviewer, Sarah, asked as you adjusted on your chair. 

“This is our third album now, and this time Steph and Janey participated in the writing more than before, so the songs are really personal to all three of us.”

“Are we finally gonna hear about their love story?” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. 

“We may.” you smirked at her, not wanting to reveal too much.

“How about yours?” she added on, in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin leaning towards you as he stared at you, manspreading like always, his knee knocking into yours. 

“Huh?” 

“Your love story. Is there a special guy or girl in your life?” the interviewer asked, making you feel annoyed instantly. 

You hated being asked questions like that, sometimes it felt like the music you were writing didn’t even matter, all people wanted to know was who you’re fucking. 

“Not at the moment, no.” you forced a smile so you don’t seem rude.

“I thought I was special.” Hyunjin chimed in next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours, that shit eating grin you hate spreading on his face.

Before you could answer, Sarah butted in. 

“Oh, is there something happening between you that we should know about?”

You could just hear the excitement in her voice, the hunger for drama dripping from her lips. 

“Nothing is happening, we just like to joke around like that.” you quickly answered, hoping to deflect her to another question, or that she’d finally talk to Hyunjin and ask him about his new song, so you could take a few moments to breathe. 

“So, you two are close?”

Oh no. 

Here it goes again. 

Last time this happened, your name got dragged on every social media platform.

People who were shipping the two of you got on your nerves, but that wasn’t the biggest problem.

No, it was the people who had sent you hate and death threats, telling you if they saw you next to Hyunjin again you’d be dead. 

It took a toll on your mental health and scared you since you know people can easily find an address or stalk you somewhere and you wanted to avoid any rumors that would endanger your well-being. 

“We're just coworkers.” to your surprise Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, saying exactly what you wanted to say so people would leave you alone. 

Why was there a weird feeling in your chest then?

“Well, sometimes there’s passion at the workplace.” Sarah wasn’t giving it up and you were close to losing your temper and telling her to shove it already, ask some less invasive questions. 

“No passion here, our relationship is strictly professional.” you said, but your skin burned where Hyunjin’s thigh pressed against yours.

In your mind you were cursing both him and Sarah, and even your manager for bringing you here.

Thankfully, she left it at that, continuing with questions about your upcoming tour and Hyunjin’s new song. 

As soon as the interview finished and you were done shaking hands, Ana came to you, her hand on your shoulder as she squeezed. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin slip out of the room.

“Good job.” she smiled as Anthony joined the two of you. 

“I hope you’re hungry, y/n. This time it’s my treat, and there’s this restaurant…”

You tuned Anthony out, completely forgetting that after an interview like this, the tradition is to have dinner with Hyunjin and his manager. 

“Can we skip dinner this time? I just wanna go home and lay down.”

“Nonsense, I hear your stomach growling from here. Come on, it’s free food you can’t say no.” Anthony made a goofy face, hoping to win you over.

“Fine, you had me at free food.” you sighed as Ana nodded with a smile.

“Good! Now where is our other rockstar?” he quickly looked around. “I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m a babysitter, not a manager.”

“I’ll go find him.” you offered, wanting to leave the building as soon as possible.

“Sure.” Ana nodded and you made your way down the hall.

Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, until you came closer to a corner where the sounds of hushed voices and giggles filled up your ears and made you roll your eyes. 

“You know I can’t give you my number, baby. But if there is an empty room around here somewhere…” Hyunjin was talking to the girl from earlier, leaning over her body as she stared up at him like he was a god, her back against the wall.

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms on your chest. 

Both of them looked up at you, Hyunjin giving you a smirk as he straightened up and the girl glared at you but you didn’t give a shit. 

“We need to leave right now. Our managers are waiting for us.” you said simply as the girl whined. 

“Shh, maybe some other time.” he shushed her, leaning towards her and your stomach flipped in disgust. 

He didn’t kiss her, just taunted her before he leaned back and made his way towards you. 

“Cockblocker.” he stuck his tongue out, the piercing adorning it catching the light for a moment. 

“Do you even know her name?” you asked, keeping a fast pace and a good distance away from him.

“No. Does it matter?” he shrugged, his long legs quickly catching up to you in big strides.

“You’re despicable.” your face scrunched up in disgust as you neared the elevator where your managers were waiting and chatting. 

“Throwing some big words around. You sure you know the meaning?” he smirked.

“That’s it.” you said angrily.

“What? You just basically told me I deserve to be hated just cause I wanted to have some fun.” 

You looked at him, full on ready to slap him across his face but Ana stepped between the two of you. 

“Fighting again? Can the two of you behave for just one evening?” Anthony frowned with a sigh as he called the elevator. 

“I can behave.” Hyunjin clicked his tongue cheekily before playing with his lip ring again. 

“Y/n?” Ana looked at you. 

“As long as he doesn’t talk to me, I’ll be fine.” you turned away from Hyunjin, stepping into the elevator. 

This is going to be one awkward dinner. 

-

Choosing to disconnect in the van you put your earphones in, ignoring Hyunjin’s presence right next to you. 

It’s like your managers wanted to have you two as close as possible, like they thought it’d make you hate each other less but at this moment there was nothing more you wanted than to get away from him. 

Or maybe your managers wanted to be closer to each other, you smirked to yourself as Ana twirled her hair around her finger, giggling at something Anthony said. 

You leaned back as the music flooded your ears, your figure slightly turned towards the window as you watched the street lights pass you by, totally unaware of a pair of eyes that were glued to you.

Hyunjin observed you in detail, how shiny your hair was as it cascaded down your back and shoulders, how your brows were slightly creased and your lips pouty as you listened to your music, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers played with the hem of your shirt as you pulled on it, how pretty the rings adorning your fingers were, how the necklace you always wore laid gently on your collarbone.

No little detail was skipped as he drinked it all in, thinking you wouldn’t notice. 

But after some time as it got even darker outside, you caught Hyunjin’s reflection in the window as he stared at you with a look on his face that you’ve never seen before. 

Your stomach suddenly swirled as the two of you made eye contact on the glass, Hyunjin’s plump lips falling open before he sat up and looked away, acting like nothing happened. 

The rest of the ride was uneventful and you were tired of this day, having to look at Hyunjin was more exhausting to you than being on stage.

You couldn’t wait to get into your bed and disappear. 

As you walked into the restaurant, you were led to a table and you could see a few people whispering and pointing at you but usually they didn’t bother you much. 

However, this time was different. 

As you scanned the menu, a girl timidly approached your table and you looked up at her as she stood next to Hyunjin. 

“I’m - I’m sorry to bother you but I’m a really big fan and I was wondering if you’d take a picture with me?” she asked Hyunjin who immediately smirked at her.

“No pictures allowed. But you can get his signature.” Anthony chimed in. 

“And who the fuck are you?” the girl changed her demeanor right away, making Hyunjin chuckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart, that’s my boss.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the girl. “Come on I’ll give you a sign and you can write me your number, maybe I’ll call you, hm?” Hyunjin winked at her and you just about lost your appetite completely.

“Oh, sure, I’d love that!” she let out a nasally laugh as he signed a napkin with a pen she somehow produced, giving it back to her as she leaned over to write her number down, making sure her tits were right in his face before she skipped back to her friends. 

“Can there be at least one minute when you’re not trying to fuck something that walks?” you looked at him annoyingly and he laughed.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me.” he smirked. 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” you were ready to smack him with the menu in your hand but Ana caught your wrist. 

“I bet you love that about me.” he kept smirking. 

“Love is nothing near what I feel about you.” you said, your teeth gritted.

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, you know.” Hyunjin smirked, leaning into your personal space. 

“Anyways, guys. What are you ordering? Their steak is really good.” Anthony gave an awkward smile as he looked around the table. 

“I want the tomato pasta.” Hyunjin leaned back, making you cackle.

“Isn’t that the kids menu? Makes sense for you somehow.” 

“I’m saving room for dessert.” he winked at you, his tongue running over his lip tentatively, the piercing on it catching the light again. 

“Ew.” you jolted in disgust as he laughed loudly, obviously finding enjoyment in ticking you off. 

The dinner part of the outing was uneventful as everyone ate and made small talk but you didn’t miss how Hyunjin crumpled up the napkin with the fan’s number and threw it aside on the table, not caring about it. 

What an asshole. 

“Let’s make a little toast to this evening and the upcoming albums and tour.” Ana proposed as she lifted her glass up. 

“To us.” Hyunjin smirked as he looked at you. 

“To rock’n’roll!” you added as the four of you clinked your glasses together before taking a big swig of your drinks.

Hyunjin didn’t look at you on the drive home. 

-

Rehearsal was supposed to start at 9am sharp, but you were there bright and early, tuning your guitar. 

Being an early bird, you loved the few moments of peace you could have to yourself, just you and your music. 

Your hand glided easily on the guitar’s neck, taking shapes familiar to your hands, it was muscle memory by now, your fingers picking on the strings and creating the melody you played countless times before. 

You let your voice ring out in the space freely as you sang a song dear to your heart, one you wrote when you were younger. 

You’d always start warming up by singing it to yourself, never having the need to actually put it out into the world. 

You got into it, your eyes closed as you sang with a small smile on your face, the entire world around you disappearing shortly. 

In the distance, you heard footsteps and voices belonging to your bandmates and just as you opened your eyes, you looked through the glass on the door, a shadow slithered across the wall outside, disappearing around the corner.  

You squinted your eyes and stood up, putting your guitar aside and coming closer to the door. 

Just as you were about to reach towards the doorknob, the voices got louder. 

“Are we seriously doing this right now?” Janey asked, the tone of her voice angry. 

“I’m telling you, it was nothing! I don’t know who she is and why she’s texting me!” Steph defended herself as Janey scoffed.

“I’m sick of your excuses. I’m gonna give you one last chance to make it up to me and be truthful, but after that I’m done.” you stepped back as Janey came into view, opening the door angrily.

“Oh, y/n.” she widened her eyes slightly. “Good morning.” she added, scurrying past you to take her place behind the drum kit. 

Steph walked in with a scowl on her face, muttering a ‘morning’ before going straight to her bass guitar. 

It wasn’t the first time they fought or even broke up.

There were many times you had to be the mediator between them, trying to get them to communicate and even though it was frustrating, you didn’t want them to give up on their relationship easily and you couldn’t really take sides since they were both your friends. 

“Shall we?” you asked and they nodded. 

It took some warming up as always but soon you got into the groove, rehearsing for a small performance that was happening tonight.

You were excited because during the performance you planned to reveal your new song and see how people like it in person. 

The only thorn in your eye was the fact that Hyunjin’s band will be there too, performing right after yours. 

You were dreading to see him again, since that interview last week you had managed to avoid him skilfully, but you couldn’t hide forever. 

And even though your rehearsal went somewhat smoothly, there was tension in the air and you didn’t like that feeling.

It felt like a storm was coming and you weren’t sure if you’re ready to take it on. 

-

Evening came around quickly, everyone was already gathered backstage and you were dressed and ready, having rehearsed once more on the stage, tuning your guitars and getting ready for the most fun part. 

You peered from the back, seeing all the people gathering made your heart swell, a smile spreading on your face automatically. 

“Quite a turn out, huh?” 

Your eye literally twitched when you heard Hyunjin’s voice behind you, too close for comfort as his figure loomed over you and you felt the warmth of his body on your back.

You turned your head slightly as he peered down at you with that annoying smirk you absolutely hate. 

“Of course.” you said, squeezing your body between him and the curtain, ignoring him calling after you as you walked away as fast as you could.

You’re not gonna let him ruin tonight for you. 

It was time to go on stage anyways.

You and your girls did a little cheer as tradition before the performance, Ana coming up to hug you and wish you good luck. 

“Break a leg.” Hyunjin appeared out of nowhere and you only rolled your eyes before whipping around and almost smacking him with your hair as you made your way towards the stage. 

As soon as you walked out, loud screams filled up your ears and everything negative was forgotten and locked away in a drawer in the back of your mind. 

“Are you ready to rock tonight?!” you screamed out into the mic as the three of you took your positions. 

Hyunjin watched you from the side with an unreadable look on his face, but you weren’t even aware of it and you didn’t care. 

All you cared about was this moment. 

The moment where you get to share your love for music with thousands of people. 

It was exhilarating, watching the mass of bodies sway like one, hearing all the people singing the lyrics you wrote in unison. 

Nothing could compare to this and every time you stood under that light, you knew you were born for this. 

Giddy from everything, you skipped backstage once you finished playing the last song; which happened to be the new one and people more than loved it judging by their excited screams. 

“That was amazing!” Ana met you halfway, giving high fives to all three of you.

You were still trying to catch your breath as you giggled, when Hyunjin appeared next to you again. 

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” he smirked at you, shamelessly giving you the elevator eyes. 

“Good luck guys!” Janey yelled at all four members with a smile and a thumbs up but Hyunjin shook his head. 

“I want her to say it or I’m not going out on stage.” he crossed his arms on his chest, pouting and tapping his foot like a child about to throw a tantrum. 

“Come on, Hyun, we need to get out there!” Aiden, the band’s bassist called out. 

“Not moving until y/n wishes me good luck.” he quickly shook his head, his fluffy hair shaking with it and you thought how he resembled a dog; in more ways than one. 

“Fine you spoiled brat. Good luck.” you said sarcastically and he scoffed. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirked, leaning into your personal space again. 

“Get on the stage, Hyunjin.” you sighed and he chuckled in delight. 

“Watch me closely.” he winked before running off. 

“I can just cut the tension in the air with a knife.” Steph smirked at you, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Oh, fuck off!” you said, smacking the back of her head as she cackled. 

You did end up watching Hyunjin’s band perform after refreshing yourself, but pretty soon you’ve come to regret that decision. 

He was wild while performing, stripping out of his jacket as he screamed into the mic, sweating under the bright lights pointed directly at him making him look like an insane glazed donut as he strutted around the stage acting all smug even though he tripped over his dumb long legs multiple times. 

He’d lean over towards his little groupies, holding their hand or caressing their faces, blowing them kisses and whatnot, all of that behavior making your gut churn in disgust. 

The last straw was when he laid down on his back and started humping the air while moaning into the mic. 

Even though the crowd screamed louder than before and the horny fans almost started hyperventilating, you felt second hand embarrassment at witnessing this. 

Hyunjin continued moaning before he threw his head back, his eyes locking with yours. 

A shiver ran down your spine as he smirked at you, all sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead, his piercings shining in the light, the veins on his neck visible and his cheeks red. 

A warmness spread in your navel as he winked, licking at his lip slowly, taunting you before he moaned extra loudly, the pornographic sound echoing in your ears. 

You frowned suddenly at your heart beating fast and your legs pressing together. 

What the fuck is wrong with me?, you thought, quickly shaking your head as he finally looked away from you and stood up. 

Of course, he got showered by multiple bras on stage, you think you even caught a glimpse of someone throwing their panties and you couldn’t watch anymore. 

It was truly disgusting. 

You quickly shoved past some staff members watching and gasping at whatever Hyunjin was doing now. 

Pushing past everyone, you made your way outside to get some fresh air in the hidden area behind backstage, where staff and musicians usually smoked or chilled after a performance. 

You greeted some of the staff before finding a spot where you could be alone. 

You were about to relax when you heard kissing sounds and as you turned to look around the corner you saw Steph kissing some random girl. 

You couldn’t contain the gasp that flew out of your mouth, making them jolt away from each other. 

Steph’s eyes widened when she saw you and you quickly spun around, noticing Janey had just walked outside too and started looking around. 

“Y/n, wait!” Steph yelled behind you. “It’s not what you think! Please, don’t tell Janey!” she looked at you desperately but you hated cheaters more than anything, seeing her betrayal with your own eyes broke any sort of connection you had with her. 

“Isn’t it? Your tongue was down some girl’s throat. Now, what do you call that?” you scoffed.

“What?” Janey appeared next to you, just as the girl who Steph was kissing before stood behind her. 

“It’s not like that, I-”

You could see Janey’s eyes filling up with tears. 

“That’s it, I’m done. With you and with the band. With everything.” you gasped when she said that, your eyes wide. 

“Janey, don’t be like that, it didn’t mean anything to me-” Steph started.

“Liar, you told me you’d leave her for me.” the girl behind Steph chimed in. 

“Oh, so this has been going on for some time?” Janey looked between Steph and the girl. 

“Let’s talk about this inside.” you tried to lead them in as people were whispering and looking at the four of you. 

“I have nothing else to say. I’m sorry, y/n. I can’t be a part of this band anymore when all it’s gonna do is remind me of this cheating whore.” Janey spat before turning around and leaving. 

“Okay, I deserve that but like I’m sorry that-”

“Save it, Steph. I can’t believe you did this. You put your desires over the well-being of our band. You do understand that your actions not only affect Janey, but also me, Ana and the rest of the record company?” you asked her, your blood boiling with anger. 

“I- I’m sorry, let me make it right. I’ll talk to Janey and she’ll forgive me once she understands-” 

“You think I want you to be part of the band after this? That’s rich.” you turned around too, in hopes of finding Janey. 

“Y/n, you can’t throw me out of the band!” Steph yelled behind you. 

“I just did.” you said coldly before opening the door and rushing into the backstage room. 

“Is Janey here?” you asked Ana and before she could answer, someone bumped into you rather strongly, making you stumble backwards a little.

You turned around angrily, noticing a very sweaty and breathless Hyunjin staring at you with a smile, his tongue lolling out of his lips as he played with his piercing. 

“So, did you like my performance?” he winked at you. “Did it get you excited?” the famous shit eating grin spread on his face as he leaned in closer to you, a few droplets of sweat dripping from his hair.

“I don’t have time for your games, Hyunjin. Please leave me alone.” you said annoyingly, noticing he had a bra hooked around his hand.

“What’s going on?” Ana asked, looking at you confusedly.

You were shaken up, the anger you felt manifesting into tears and you cursed yourself for being so emotional and quick to cry. 

“Woah, you’re crying!” Hyunjin stepped even closer to you but you’ve had enough of him. 

“Get away from me, asshole!” you channeled all your anger his way as you pressed your hands on his chest, pushing him away. 

Hyunjin stumbled with a gasp, a shocked look on his face. 

“What the hell is happening here?” Anthony quickly came to Hyunjin’s side as his bandmates watched everything unfold. 

“Ana, can we talk in private?” you glared once more at Hyunjin and she quickly nodded, hooking her arm with yours and taking you away from the scene. 

Hyunjin watched your figure disappear out of view with a deep frown on his face. 

-

It’s been a dreadful week.

You’ve tried talking to Janey multiple times, begging her to come back, promising to her that you wouldn’t let Steph come anywhere near her. 

Sadly, Janey was insistent on not wanting to continue with the band since lots of the songs were written by her and her now ex girlfriend who betrayed her in such an ugly way. 

You talked to Ana almost every day on the phone but you weren’t up for any visits, choosing instead to wallow in your sadness. 

Your band fell apart, your friends were no longer together, your album couldn’t be published and people were speculating, spreading rumors, you were getting numerous curious comments asking what happened to Venus Flytrap. 

You had no idea what to do at that moment. 

You just needed some time to yourself to figure out what your next step should be. 

You were lounging in your bed when your phone buzzed for the hundredth time.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed it and saw that you had a text message from an unknown number. 

???: hey there pretty girl! don’t be so sad! there are worse things than your band falling apart. 

you: what, like death? and who is this? 

???: your favorite person in the whole world<3 

you: hyunjin?? 

???: aw i knew i was your favorite!

You started seething immediately as you sat up, your heart beating fast instantly as you worked yourself up into annoyance.

You quickly put his contact under ‘asshole’. 

you: no, i knew that a conceited answer like that can only come from an asshole like you.

you: now, what do you want?

asshole: did you save my contact as asshole? or dickhead? which one is it?

you: wouldn’t you like to know. seriously what the hell do you want. i’ll block you if you don’t get on with it

asshole: just wanted to see if you maybe want to talk to someone

you: if i did, i wouldn’t choose you. have a nice day away from me hyunjin

Hyunjin didn’t answer your last text, instead he left you on read and you tossed your phone across your bed, now feeling even more infuriated than before. 

You squinted your eyes, grabbing your phone again and texting Ana.

you: did you give my number to hyunjin??

Ana: i’m sorry! he wouldn’t stop bugging me about it! pls don’t be mad

Just great. 

Why is he insisting on annoying you even when you feel down in the dumps, you thought, he always has to come in and make you feel even more mad. 

You were hoping that with your last text he’d finally leave you alone.

You also hoped you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon.

But boy, you couldn’t be more wrong.

-

“What?!” you yelled so loudly that it echoed off of the office walls.

“Y/n, please we don’t know any other solution. Lycoris Radiata is going to tour in 4 days and you’re the only person who knows their songs by heart. You can also kick ass with drums. And well, you’re kinda free now.” Anthony grimaced. 

“You can’t do this to me. I can’t spend so much time with Hwang Hyunjin!” you whined like a child, kicking your legs under the table as Ana gave you an apologetic look.

“Gossiping about me?” Hyunjin strolled in, with that annoying smirk, his hair in a little ponytail, showing more of his ear piercings and his sharp jawline. 

He took off his leather jacket, throwing it haphazardly on the chair before he plopped down into it. 

He spun around in the chair to face you as you looked at him with a scowl on your face.

Brendon, his guitarist and Aiden joined the meeting right after that.

“So, ready to be my new drummer?” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Not a chance in hell.” 

“Y/n, please, we have no other choice! Phil had to leave so suddenly due to his sickness. We couldn’t be prepared for something like that. We can’t afford to postpone the tour now.” Brendon pleaded as Aiden nodded next to him. 

You leaned back into the chair, pursing your lips as you gave it a thought.

Of course they’d choose you. 

You knew their songs by heart since you shared so many tours together but you had your own bus and mostly ran into Hyunjin either backstage or at an afterparty but if you would become a part of his band you’d spend most of your time with him. 

But this could be good for you to give yourself time to decide what you wanna do next while touring with Lycoris Radiata. 

And since you were a multi instrumentalist, playing the drums wouldn’t be a problem for you.

You smirked suddenly before tilting your head at Hyunjin. 

“Fine. I will tour with you under one condition.” you said. 

“Anything!” Anthony piped in but you kept staring at Hyunjin. 

“I want you to beg.” your smirk deepened and Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly, his fingers twitching against his thighs. 

“What?” he blinked repeatedly and you chuckled under your breath. 

“Beg me to join your band or I’m not doing it.” 

Hyunjin’s lips opened and closed a few times before he frowned.

“I don’t beg. I demand.” he smirked, taunting you.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to have demands. However, I am. So if I want you to beg, Hyunjin, you’re gonna beg.” you sat up straight as he looked at you in pure shock. 

“My, my darling. I didn’t know you were this commanding. I kinda dig that.” he wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Any day now.” you were ready to stand up and leave. 

The room was eerily silent and Brendon opened his lips to speak up but Anthony grabbed his wrist and quickly shook his head. 

You could see the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head as he stared at you, and slowly but surely his cheeks became red as he closed his eyes in frustration.

“Pretty please, join my band and come on tour with us?” he said, rather quickly and you tsked. 

“Not convincing enough.” you enjoyed having the upper hand, the roles reversed as you pushed Hyunjin’s buttons. 

“What do you want me to do?! Kneel at your feet?” he whined.

“Maybe.” you shrugged. 

“Unbelievable! I’m the one doing you a favor anyways.” Hyunjin said, clearly annoyed and you were reveling in it. 

You wanted him to get the taste of his own medicine.

“Is that so?” you raised your eyebrow as he breathed hard. 

“Yes, your band is as good as dead right now, just like your career.” he said with a smug smirk, making everyone gasp. 

“Hyunjin!” Aiden scolded him and you stood up, feeling your eyes water as you lifted your hand, your palm colliding with Hyunjin’s cheek. 

The force of your slap turned his head right and he grabbed at his cheek immediately, his eyes wide, his face becoming red quickly.

“Fuck you!” you said angrily before turning around and leaving the room as tears started sliding down your cheeks. 

“Now look at what you did!” Anthony was mad and Hyunjin shrugged with a frown, realizing quickly that maybe he did cross a line.

“How could you say something like that to y/n?” Brendon asked, and Hyunjin looked at them, feeling dejected suddenly as he rubbed at his cheek. 

There was strength in your hands, that he was sure of. 

“I fucked up, okay! I didn’t mean to say that.” he shook his head. “I will make this right.” Hyunjin added, standing up. 

“Dude, I think you’re the last person y/n wants to see right now.” Aiden said. 

“But I have to apologize to her.” Hyunjin chewed on his lip, playing with his piercing as a nervous habit.

“I’ll go with you then.” Aiden nodded, standing up as well. 

“Fine.” Hyunjin sighed. 

You sat in the swinging chair on one of the many balconies of the building, letting your tears slip down your cheeks as the wind picked up, making you shiver. 

Hyunjin and Aiden found you pretty quickly and before Aiden could follow him to the balcony, Hyunjin smacked his hand on Aiden’s chest. 

“Please, just wait here.” 

“Fine, but if you provoke her again, I’m coming in.” Aiden sighed, shaking his head. 

The door of the balcony opened and in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin’s combat boots and his leather pants. 

“Go away.” you said quietly, sniffling and turning away from him.

Hyunjin stood frozen for a moment, holding his jacket in his hand and you took that time to quickly wipe away your tears. 

You didn’t want to look weak in front of your enemy. 

Footsteps approached and suddenly you felt a weight on your shoulders and back. 

You looked down, realizing that Hyunjin had put his jacket around you and it smelled like cigarettes mixed with cologne he always wears and something distinctly him. 

You took a deep breath and for some reason, calmness settled all over your body. 

“I’m really sorry for what I said back there. It was way out of line.”

You didn’t say anything, still refusing to look at him. 

“And I’m sorry about your band. I know that must be hard to go through. I feel bad that my drummer had to leave, I don’t know how I’d feel if-”

“Are you done?” you turned to look at him and his lips pressed together. 

“I don’t care how you feel, Hyunjin. Just like you didn’t care about hurting me moments ago.” you stood up, ready to throw his jacket away. 

“Well, I apologized!” he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes. “Though, I’m glad I have that effect on you, I didn’t know you cared so much about what I think or say.” he smirked suddenly. 

You were tempted to slap his other cheek at that moment, and Aiden must’ve sensed it so he walked out to the balcony. 

“Are we okay?” he asked, gulping. 

“Not until he apologizes properly.” you crossed your arms with a smirk, and he knew exactly what you meant.

“Ugh! This is the first and last time I get on my knees for you.” Hyunjin said annoyingly as he kneeled down and you chuckled in delight. 

“I’m sorry for being an asshole and if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d be honored for you to join my band.” he batted his eyelashes at you. 

“Mm…” you pursed your lips, acting like you were contemplating it as he rolled his eyes again. 

“Fine. I accept.” you shrugged and Hyunjin stood up quickly with a smile.

“Welcome to the band, sweetheart!” he smirked, opening his arms for a hug and you quickly dodged under his arm and slithered away. 

“You’re welcome.” you smirked back, grabbing his jacket and throwing it at him.

He caught it just as you walked back into the hallway, grinning to himself as you walked away. 

“She wants me so bad.” Hyunjin said as Aiden’s eyebrows lifted comically. 

“I think she wants to kill you.” he said and Hyunjin chuckled, smacking Aiden’s shoulder and grabbing him. 

“I know what chicks like, okay?” 

“You also know that y/n isn’t one of your little groupies?” Aiden sighed.

“I know, don’t worry. She’s special.” Hyunjin smiled, hugging his jacket to his chest, getting a whiff of your perfume that stayed on it.

Aiden shook his head with a chuckle. 

This is gonna be one hell of a tour. 

-

The party was in full swing. 

That morning you had packed for the tour, your stomach swirling with nerves so much that you thought you’d throw up. 

You were actually going on tour with Lycoris Radiata, for at least six months. 

A lot can happen in that amount of time and while you were nervous to spend so much time with the infuriating and annoying asshole aka Hwang Hyunjin, you were also excited for the new experience and the places you’ll get to see.

Of course, you couldn’t leave without attending a ‘have an amazing tour’ party that was mostly exclusive only for staff and a few other people. 

You were on your second glass of beer as you sat at the bar, the cold bitter liquid not calming you down as it should. 

Hyunjin was having a jolly old time, entertaining some girls of course and if you had rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“Don’t take that to heart.” Aiden suddenly appeared next to you.

“What?” you chuckled awkwardly, shaking away your thoughts.

“Hyunjin flirting like that. He’s a lot of talk, more than anything else.”

“Why would I care if he flirts with some random girls?” you frowned. “It’s none of my business.”

“Right.” Aiden pursed his lips. “Well, I’m gonna go find Anthony.”

“Sure.” you shrugged, your eyes flying back to Hyunjin and the girls who were salivating all over him. 

He was showing them his biceps and they were touching him like they’ve never seen a human arm in their life. 

You scoffed, shaking your head when a voice behind you startled you. 

“Now, why is a pretty lady such as yourself sitting all alone?” 

You turned around with your eyebrow lifted, coming face to face with a stranger. 

“Because it’s her choice.” you answered.

“Oh, feisty and pretty? That’s a fun combo.” the guy smirked, his arm leaning on your chair, almost hugging your waist as he got closer to you. 

Your nose scrunched up, he smelled of alcohol and you really wanted him to leave you alone. 

“I’m pretty boring, trust me.” you said.

“Oh, I don’t believe that. In fact, I think if you were to let me take you home tonight, you and I could have so much fun.” he smirked and you were pretty sure you barfed in your mouth a little.

“No, thank you.” you said sarcastically. 

He chuckled, placing his arms around you.

You were completely unaware of Hyunjin who was keeping an eye on you and the suspicious guy. 

As soon as the man placed his hands on you, Hyunjin pushed the girl he was talking to aside, his heavy combat boots taking him right to you and the disturbance in your personal space.

“I don’t really take no for an answer.” he said and your heart sank momentarily. 

“Back off man!” you tried to push him away but he wasn’t budging.

Suddenly the guy was ripped away from you with such force that it pulled you to your feet.

You grabbed at the bar to steady yourself and gasped just in time to see Hyunjin swinging his fist at the man. 

“Oh my god!” you almost screamed, your eyes wide as the guy fell to the floor instantly. 

People quickly gathered around and Anthony was trying to push them away so he could grab Hyunjin. 

“The lady said no, you fucking dirtbag!” Hyunjin said, swinging at the man again. 

“Oh my god, Hyunjin! Stop, it’s okay, please!” you panicked, never seeing him this angry or violent. 

“Hwang! Enough!” Anthony yelled, grabbing Hyunjin’s arms and lifting him up as he fought against his manager, still trying to punch the man who was now laying on the floor with his face completely bloody. 

You kept looking at Hyunjin with a shocked expression as he breathed hard, his face red and sweaty from anger, the veins on his neck and forehead popping out.

“I stopped, now let me go.” he said through his teeth as someone lifted up the unconscious guy.

“Hyunjin, if this gets out to the press it could turn into a fucking shitstorm! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anthony yelled angrily as Hyunjin stood with his fists still clenched. 

“He made y/n uncomfortable and he deserved it.” Hyunjin answered before turning towards you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes softening as you stared at him in disbelief.

“I-I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m done with this party.” Hyunjin said, turning on his heel and grabbing his jacket before he walked out, leaving you standing there still trying to process what the hell just happened.

-

You were half asleep when Ana drove you to the tour bus. 

You barely slept last night, tossing and turning in your bed as the images of Hyunjin punching that guy from the party kept swimming in your head. 

Never has a man defended you like that and you’ve never seen Hyunjin look so livid before. 

He was usually either smirking, laughing or being a menace, ready to always annoy you but you’ve never seen him actually angry.

It was kind of… hot, you thought before shaking it off.

You wondered why he reacted like that.

“You okay?” Ana snapped you out of your vegetative state as you sank in the passenger seat, arms crossed and hood over your head. 

“Hm? Yeah, just sleepy.” you sat up and looked around. 

The sun wasn’t even up yet. 

“You can continue sleeping on the tour bus. We’re here.” she chuckled. 

“Oh, goody.” you sighed before opening the door and walking out.

“Morning, ladies.” Anthony all but ran up to Ana, helping her with yours and her bags since she’d be joining you too. 

“Morning? It’s still night.” you checked your phone, seeing it was 4:13am. 

“Not where I come from. You see-” Anthony started.

“Okay, I’m too asleep to listen to this.” you shook your head before strolling towards the bus. 

You were about to just climb in and go straight to the nearest bed you could find but you heard some quiet music coming from behind the back of the bus. 

You approached slowly and peeked around to see Hyunjin leaning on the wall, smoking and listening to some quiet music. 

He looked up instantly, seeming like a deer caught in headlights for a short moment. 

“Remembered to put on a jacket?” he smirked. 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” you said and he shrugged, looking away and turning the music off. 

As he brought his cigarette to his lips, you noticed his knuckles were red and injured. 

“I guess I should thank you for last night.” you said quietly, swinging on your feet awkwardly as you dug your hands in your pockets. 

“It was nothing.” he shook his head quickly. 

“I wouldn’t call that nothing.” you motioned to his hand. 

“This?” he looked at his hand and chuckled. “You should see the other guy.” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes. 

“Clever.” 

“Come to think of it, it does hurt a bit. Wanna kiss it better?” Hyunjin smirked, puffing the smoke out. 

“Bite me.” you gave him the middle finger as he laughed, the sound ringing out in the quiet early hours.

“I might. If you ask nicely.” he said with that smug expression of his.

“I’m going inside.” you shivered, realizing how cold it actually was, ignoring his witty quips. 

“I’m right behind ya.” he threw his cigarette on the floor before stepping on it. 

Your heart started beating fast out of nowhere as his heavy boots stomped behind you, the sound escorting you to the entrance of the bus. 

“Oh wow.” your eyes widened as you looked around the living/kitchen area. 

“You like?” Hyunjin leaned over your shoulder and you jolted away from him, making him snicker. 

“Yeah, it’s… not what I expected. It looks more cozy than I thought it would.” you nodded.

“You should thank the interior designer.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“And who might that be?” you asked, making your way to the bunk bed area. 

“Oh, just a guy. He takes payment in kisses.” Hyunjin bumped into you as you stopped. 

“Is that guy maybe you?” you turned around, not realizing immediately just how close Hyunjin was to you. 

“Maybe it is.” he leaned towards you with a smirk and you squealed a little, stepping away from him.

“Give it up. I’m taking the top bunk bed.” you pointed to the left side. 

“Not fair! I always take that one!” Hyunjin pouted.

“Tough luck, I called it first.” you smirked, taking off your jacket and throwing it up on the bed. 

“Or… we can both sleep up there?” Hyunjin said and you scoffed, pushing him away. 

“Like hell!” 

“Are y’all fighting this early?” Brendon came in, looking confused and disheveled. 

“No, it’s foreplay.” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows and you made gagging noises. 

“Here’s your bag, y/n.” Ana appeared with your luggage. 

Aiden and Anthony came in after and everyone took some time to unpack and get settled. 

“I heard we have two pretty ladies with us, so you fellas gotta behave now.” you heard an unknown voice and leaned over to see who it belonged to.

“Oh, we always behave, Stu.” Hyunjin smirked. 

“Yes, especially you.” the man, Stu, rolled his eyes. 

“This is our main driver Stu.” Aiden introduced you and Ana to him. 

“Pleasure to meet you ladies. Hopefully the road won’t be too bumpy.” he winked before turning around and leaving. 

“Where is Bradley?” Anthony piped in suddenly.

“Who’s Bradley?” you asked, at this moment you just wanted to get everything over with and catch up on some sleep.

“Our sound guy.” Brendon answered. “And lights guy. He is underpaid and overworked, basically.” he added, giving Anthony a pointed look. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault Mike quit!” he lifted his hands up. “Besides, we’re picking someone up in the next town over. He’ll be our roadie along with Bradley.” 

As they started discussing, you slipped away to the bathroom, where you could change in peace and get ready for bed. 

You leaned on the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror as you listened to the muffled voices talking. 

Were you doing the right thing? 

Accepting to join another band when your heart still hurts from the sudden falling apart between your friends and band members… 

“Y/n, I need the bathroom!” Hyunjin’s voice brought you back to reality and you stood up straight. 

“I’m not done yet!” you yelled back. “You have another bathroom!” you added annoyingly, preparing to brush your teeth. 

“Aiden hogged it. Are you naked or something? Cause I swear I don’t mind.” 

You could just hear the smirk in his voice. 

Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and Hyunjin gave you the elevator eyes and they lingered on your legs in the shorts you put on, going up to your chest and lingering again before he looked up at your face. 

He was playing with his lip ring again, his cheeks rosy. 

“What do you want?” you spat.

“Just wanna brush my teeth.” he looked at you smugly. 

You didn’t say anything, just stepped aside and continued brushing your teeth. 

You opted to leave the door opened since it felt awkward to have them closed. 

“Isn’t this fun, us brushing our teeth together? It’s kinda domestic, don’t you think?” Hyunjin said suddenly, the familiar smirk on his face. 

“Yes, thrilling.” you answered sarcastically. “You don’t have to act nice, Hyunjin. Everyone knows we hate each other so let’s just not talk too much and try to coexist peacefully for the sake of everyone else on this tour.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to answer but you quickly turned around and left, not wanting to get into it with him when you were tired and nervous. 

He smirked to himself, shaking his head. 

The only thing stuck in his brain at that moment was the way you said his name. 

God, he loved it. 

-

You slept for a few hours only, waking up early yet again as the bus rolled to a stop at a diner. 

“Rise and shine, princess.” Hyunjin’s head popped up in front of you as he held onto your bed.

“Fuck off.” you grabbed your pillow and smacked him with it, almost making him fall down but he managed to land on his feet. 

You heard a smack and Hyunjin saying ‘ow’ quietly before Aiden said,

“Come down if you’re hungry.” 

You chuckled to yourself, waiting for them to leave so you could get ready.

Of course, as soon as you sat down in a booth, Hyunjin pushed Brendon aside and quickly slid next to you. 

“Oh my god.” you rolled your eyes. 

You were squished between him and Ana on your other side, and he was too close for comfort. 

You could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent of his shampoo and body wash mixed with cigarettes. 

You tried to ignore the feelings stirring in your gut as you ordered.

“So, how did you like sleeping on top of me?” Hyunjin smirked, tilting his head. 

“Not as much as you liked sleeping under me, weirdo.” you scoffed at him and he chuckled.

“I liked it very much, so that must mean you liked it at least a little.” he said as the food arrived and your stomach growled. 

“Whatever you say.” you brushed him off and started to dig in. 

“We’re close to our first destination.” Anthony started after a sip of coffee. “We will arrive around 4pm and have lunch, then we get ready and do the soundcheck. Questions?”

Everyone shook their heads no. 

You suddenly felt nervous tingles running up your spine, and for some reason Hyunjin felt it. 

“Don’t worry princess, you’ll do great.” he smirked, placing his hand on top of your wrist. 

You snatched your hand away and looked at him. 

“I know I will, I was just wondering if you’ll be able to keep up with me.” you smirked back at him. 

“You’ll be surprised at how well I can keep up, baby.” Hyunjin leaned into your personal space, his eyes boring into yours and you felt your cheeks burning.

“Be nice, you two.” Ana chuckled.

“What? I haven't called him an asshole yet. Emphasis on yet.” 

Hyunjin laughed next to you, his arm brushing against yours.

Oh, he is so going to enjoy this.

-

It was such a good, familiar feeling to sit behind a drum kit after being the main vocalist and guitarist of your band for so long. 

The venue was empty at this moment and the sound of the drums echoing in the space was grand. 

You closed your eyes and started playing a groove to get into the mood and Hyunjin was lured towards the stage instantly. 

He watched you in awe even though he saw you play the drums before, they never had the name of his band on the front of them. 

Hyunjin felt proud; that his band has come so far and honored that you were now a part of their story. 

He hoped you’d enjoy the tour and judging by the blissful look on your face, you were off to a good start. 

“Let’s go, Hyun.” Brendon smacked his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. 

It was time for the soundcheck, and when everyone was finally on stage, tuning their instruments, you realized that this is real. 

Excitement replaced any nerves you had and you were ready to tear the stage apart. 

“Let’s jam a little.” Aiden smiled as everyone agreed.

He started to play a melody on his bass so you followed him with the drums.

You were so focused on grooving that you didn’t notice Hyunjin winking at his two other band members.

When it was time for him to start playing his guitar, Hyunjin decided to play totally out of tune. 

You looked up at him with your brows furrowed as you tried to follow him.

He changed it up suddenly, that familiar shit eating grin spreading on his face as you followed him yet again. 

Brendon and Aiden stopped playing as they observed the two of you, battling it out with your instruments. 

Hyunjin was trying hard to get on your nerves, push your buttons but you weren’t gonna let him in. 

“Having some trouble following, princess?” he yelled over the noise. 

You looked at him pointedly as he started to play another melody that made no sense and you’ve had enough. 

Hyunjin had a way of getting under your skin and he obviously knew that. 

Your arm lifted up on its own accord and you swung one of your drumsticks right at Hyunjin, aiming for his empty head. 

His eyes widened and he managed to dodge it in a close second as the drumstick clattered on the floor. 

“Ha! Attempted murder! Y’all saw that!” he pointed at you, while looking at his friends and you started laughing. 

“Don’t worry, even if it did hit your head, it couldn’t damage it more than it already is.” you smirked as Hyunjin huffed. 

“Oh baby, keep talking. Degradation is my thing.” he motioned towards his ear with his fingers and you made a disgusted face at him. 

Of course, the asshole laughed at your expression. 

“Guys, can we actually practice?” Brendon chimed in as Aiden nodded. 

Instead of answering verbally, you started playing so everyone joined in. 

-

“Are you nervous?” Aiden asked as the venue filled up and it all became real.

“Nope, I’m ecstatic!” you answered, twirling your drumstick in your hand. 

“Trying to murder me once again?” Hyunjin appeared next to you as you almost hit him with it.

“Trust me, if I was trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.” 

“Nobody’s killing anyone, we’re already short on staff.” Anthony smirked before putting his arms around Hyunjin and Brendon’s shoulders. 

“Good luck guys! And y/n, of course. I know y’all will do great.” Anthony smiled. 

Ana came up to you to hug you. 

“Good luck, babe!” she smiled. 

“Thank you.” you gave her a bone crushing hug, she was always like a sister to you and having her here now meant a lot to you. 

As soon as you walked out on stage, the screams of all the people that came to see you perform were deafening but heartwarming. 

Hyunjin was the main character on stage, that you were convinced of as whatever he did resulted in even louder screaming. 

You didn’t mind being the backbone of the band, playing drums to you was a meditative and transcending experience and anything you were angry or upset about, you could take it out while playing. 

Performing with Lycoris Radiata was fun as fuck, even more than you hoped for; seeing Hyunjin up close made you realize just why people loved him so much. 

He was charismatic, cool and lame at the same time, ethereally beautiful and down to earth, fun but sensitive, alluring but cute, he gave his all and more. 

He was everything wrapped up in one and you wondered how that was possible. 

A particular moment struck you; when you were playing a slower song, Hyunjin sang so delicately, his back turned to you as the lights beamed down on his frame, his sweaty hair and skin making him look like he was glowing. 

Your heart skipped a beat but you ignored it. 

Near the end of the show, Hyunjin did his usual routine which consisted of making everyone’s panties wet; it was time for the sex song he always sang near the end which made you feel embarrassed and uncomfortable but something about being on stage with them got you in the right mood for it.

The part came up; and Hyunjin was on the floor, moaning and humping the air as you followed his moans with the heavy sound of your drums. 

Hyunjin smirked, throwing his head back to look at you as he continued his ministrations and you continued following him on the drums. 

Aiden and Brendon joined in as Hyunjin became louder, resulting in you hitting the drums harder as the sounds all came together in a crescendo. 

You wished that you could press your thighs together to create pressure and friction because the whole thing managed to get you wet too. 

A part of you felt ashamed but you didn’t give a flying fuck in that moment, completely letting go of everything as the four of you continued jamming together. 

Hyunjin stood up with the biggest smile on his face, winking at you as he ran a lap around the stage before literally diving into the audience. 

You gasped to yourself but continued playing the outro to the performance while Hyunjin was being groped by horny fanboys and fangirls. 

Security was there to pull him back up on stage safely and Hyunjin sang the end of the song before screaming a ‘thank you’ into the mic. 

After all four of you bowed a hundred times, you finally ran backstage where a very sweaty Hyunjin started hugging everyone, eventually coming up to you. 

“Don’t even think about it.” you said as he opened his arms. 

“Not thinking, just doing it.” he smirked and before you could run away, his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his body. 

“Ew!” you squirmed against him and he chuckled. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” he held you tighter and your heart leaped out of your chest. 

The bastard smelled so good even after sweating so much and it annoyed you how seemingly perfect he was. 

“What, a gross sweaty man slobbering all over me?” you scrunched up your face as you finally pushed him away.

“I wasn’t slobbering but if you’re into that-”

“Please shut up while I’m still in a good mood.” you stopped him and he laughed. 

“It’s so fun messing with you, darling.” Hyunjin ruffled your hair as you practically hissed at him, making him laugh again. 

“You guys were fucking amazing!” Anthony yelled excitedly. 

“I don’t know about you but I need some food.” Aiden piped in. 

“I’m feeling thirsty, honestly.” Brendon added.

“Are we partying or what?” Hyunjin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Hell yeah, we are!” Anthony high-fived him. 

You ended up having the afterparty in the bus, ordering some food and acquiring some beer as you sat around in the living space. 

Of course, as soon as you walked in, you ran for the shower, with Hyunjin cascading behind you and asking if he could join you because “it’ll be done faster”. 

“Dream about it, asshole!” you yelled before closing the bathroom door. 

“Oh, I do.” Hyunjin smirked to himself, but you didn’t hear him. 

The excitement of the performance slowly washed away from your body along with Hyunjin’s scent that lingered after he hugged you, and you felt happy and cozy. 

All of you finally settled down to eat and Hyunjin claimed the spot next to you, of course, his long slender fingers stealing your fries constantly.

“Will you back off! You have your own fries.” you slapped his arm as he whined. 

“Yours are tastier.” he claimed with that familiar smirk of his.

“Are they now?” you smirked back. 

“Mhm.” he nodded pointedly.

“Let’s see then.” you grabbed your box and dumped all your fries into his box before mixing them up. “Pick one up and distinguish if it’s from your box or mine.”

Hyunjin stared at you with his lips parted before he smiled. 

“Aw, we’re sharing.” he said and continued eating as you heard some chuckles around the table. 

“For fucks sake.” you muttered, shaking your head.

The rest of the night was full of chatter and laughter, and you didn’t mind Hyunjin’s arm or leg brushing against you ever so often, or his loud laughter ringing in your ears or him constantly poking at you. 

It’s barely been one day on tour and he wasn’t as unbearable as you thought he’d be. 

Everyone was tired and you had to hit the road so it was finally peaceful, before a loud scream startled everyone.

“Oh no, I am going to die!” Hyunjin wailed dramatically.

“What’s wrong with him?” you rolled your eyes as Aiden came in. 

“He lost his teddy bear.” 

“He what?” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Hyunjin’s teddy, he always takes it with him. He’s had it since he was a baby and he’s convinced it brings him luck.” Aiden shrugged and Hyunjin ran into the living area.

“We are doomed!” he said, grabbing your arms and shaking you. 

“Calm down, it must be around here somewhere.” you sighed.

“Help me look?” Hyunjin batted his eyelashes at you as Aiden slipped away.

“Hyunjin, I’m tired, I need to get some sleep.” you whined. 

“Me too! But I can’t sleep without my teddy.” he said, you couldn’t believe he was serious. “I will crawl up to your bunk and annoy you all night if you don’t help me look.” he added, smirking.

“Fine, I’ll help you.” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you don’t want me in your bed at all?” he kept smirking. 

“Zip it. Let’s find your precious teddy.”

“Yes!” Hyunjin scurried after you as the two of you basically did a search and rescue mission for his favorite plush. 

Eventually, you walked into the other bathroom, finding the old teddy sitting on the counter.

“There you are.” you picked up, chuckling at the state of it. 

You couldn’t help it as you sniffed the teddy and sure enough it smelled just like its owner. 

“Found it!” you yelled and Hyunjin bursted in, panting and smiling. 

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, grabbing the teddy and then you as he enveloped you in a hug for the second time that night. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Hyunjin held you tightly and you chuckled. 

“Alright, you’re thankful, I get it. You can let go now.” you said, patting his back. 

“I owe you.” he muttered.

“I really didn’t do anything.” 

“You did, trust me.” he smiled. 

As you laid in your bunk bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Hyunjin. 

He seemed somehow different or you were just now seeing different sides of him that you didn’t see before. 

You didn’t hate him completely. 

-

Ten days on tour and things were going great. 

Every show was better than the last one, every venue bigger than the last one, every note played made Lycoris Radiata mean more and more to you. 

Tonight was no exception as you ripped the stage once again, this time Hyunjin ended up lifting Aiden and spinning him at the end which almost made the poor man throw up from excitement. 

“This was Lycoris Radiata, see you next time!” and with that you ran backstage where Hyunjin had to hug everyone, even asking for a group hug. 

You had to humor him. 

When your head finally hit the pillow, you couldn’t sleep even though you were exhausted. 

You kept replaying one particular moment from the show in your head. 

It was while Hyunjin was singing his famous sex song, before the moaning part, he came up to you and sang while looking at you. 

You kept playing and looking at him intently as he sang the lewd lyrics right into your face. 

Before he took off, Hyunjin lifted his hand, making a V shape with his fingers, doing the licking motion between them, his tongue piercing shining in the big stage light. 

Your mouth fell agape for a moment as you felt hotness spread all over your body and he smirked smugly when you made a tiny mistake in your playing. 

People didn’t notice but he did. 

And he was satisfied with it. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it had been a while since you’ve had a little ‘you time’ but it was hard to do that with so many people in the bus. 

Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed, hearing some shuffling beneath you. 

“Y/n?” Hyunjin suddenly climbed up into your bed, startling you as you sat up and turned on the little light inside. 

“W-what are you doing?” 

“I can’t sleep. And I figured you weren’t sleeping either.” Hyunjin whispered.

“And how did you figure that?” you clutched your blanket. 

“You sighed like a hundred times.” he chuckled quietly.

“What do you want?” you rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“To hang out.” he pulled out a deck of cards out of nowhere. 

“We can’t make too much noise, we’ll wake everyone up.” you shook your head. 

“Fine then we’ll do something quiet.” Hyunjin smirked, tossing the cards aside and laying down next to you, his eyes closing.

“Turn the light off, sweetheart.” he cracked one eye open as you stared at him in disbelief. 

“You are not sleeping in my bunk. Go back downstairs.” you whispered.

“No.” he answered simply. 

“Hyunjin, I’m warning you, I will push you down.”

“Will you? You’ll wake up the whole bus.” he smirked. 

“God, you’re so annoying!” you whisper-yelled, giving up as you laid down, turning away from Hyunjin. 

“Be nice and share your blanket.” Hyunjin’s breath hit the back of your neck, making you shiver as goosebumps rose on your skin. 

“Need anything else?” you muttered as he hogged your blanket and your personal space. 

“A goodnight kiss?” Hyunjin leaned over you, peering at your face hopefully.

You gave him the side eye and he chuckled. 

“Maybe some other time, hm?” he asked. 

“Go to sleep.” you said and he laid down behind you. 

“Goodnight, darling.” Hyunjin wanted to reach out and touch your hair but he figured you’d probably break his arm. 

You didn’t answer, your heart beating so hard that you were afraid it was shaking the bed and Hyunjin could feel it. 

You quickly turned off the light and tried to calm down.

There was enough space to where he wasn’t touching you but you felt his warmth, his scent, his breath on your skin.

It was driving you crazy and making you feel calm at the same time. 

You managed to fall asleep somehow.

-

At some point, in the middle of the night, Hyunjin and you gravitated closer to each other and you ended up in his arms. 

When you slowly blinked your eyes open and realized you were staring straight at Hyunjin’s chest, you jolted away from him, making him groan quietly. 

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled into your pillow, trying to grab you.

“As far as I can from you.” you said, wiggling out of his arm that eventually caught you as he groaned again.

“Something’s poking my ass.” Hyunjin gasped when he rolled over and you laughed. 

“It’s the cards, you idiot.” rolling your eyes, you left the bunk feeling embarrassed and insane as your face heated up. 

What are you doing, sleeping in the same bed as Hyunjin?

You hate him, right?

You weren’t so sure anymore. 

Yes, he was annoying but somehow that became kind of endearing. 

He has bugged you every single day since the tour started and if he suddenly stopped, it’d feel weird. 

You sighed, shaking off your thoughts as you grabbed your phone, munching on your breakfast. 

“Morning, y/n. Tell me am I crazy or did Hyunjin sleep over in your bunk?” Ana smirked at you as she brought two coffees. 

“You are crazy. But yes, he slept in my bunk.” you said. 

“Interesting.” she smirked, lifting one eyebrow up. 

“Hey, I saw you sleeping in Anthony’s bunk multiple times. What’s that about?” you teased as you opened up your insta. 

“Well, everyone knows we have a thing for each other. You and Hyunjin though… oh yeah, you have a thing too.” 

“We don’t have a thing.” you quickly said as Ana chuckled. 

“Right. Mhm.” 

You continued scrolling, and that’s when you noticed it; the hate comments on your posts. 

‘She’s just a slut who’s after Hyunjin’

‘She’s delusional if she thinks he’d like her like she’s ugly lmao’

‘Untalented bitch’

‘Get her away from my Hyunjin’

‘She deserved her band falling apart they were shit anyways’

‘Y/n should retire from the music scene’

Your eyes started stinging with tears as you skimmed through the comment section. 

“What’s wrong?” Ana tilted her head to look at you. 

You slid your phone to her and she gasped. 

“You know these people are probably some jealous, unsuccessful suckers.” she said. 

“I need some air.” you sucked in a breath before hurriedly leaving the bus. 

“What’s with her?” Hyunjin walked in. “Is she mad at me?”

“No, look.” Ana showed him your phone. 

Hyunjin frowned instantly, running out of the bus after you. 

You stood not too far away with a cigarette in your hand as you hugged yourself with your other arm and Hyunjin’s eyes softened when he saw you shivering in the wind.

“I knew you’d forget to bring a jacket.” Hyunjin put his leather jacket around you, smoothing his hand over your back a few times. 

You exhaled a puff of smoke, not answering him as you melted into his big jacket. 

Hyunjin took out a cigarette for himself and you reached out with your lighter, lighting it up as he smirked. 

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Well, I’m feeling extra stressed right now so I needed something to take the edge off.” you shrugged. 

“Because of the comments?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about them.” 

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sighed. 

“It’s not your fault.” you said. 

“I feel like it is.” 

Hyunjin was standing so close to you that his arm was touching yours while both of you continued smoking.

You stood silently next to each other for a few more moments as the clouds passed you by, and slowly but surely Hyunjin closed the gap between your hands as he  touched yours briefly before he wrapped his pinky around yours. 

“Hey, you know I’m honored you’re part of my band.” his tone was serious and you couldn’t bear to look at him or you’d burst into tears. 

“I know.” you smiled as you kept looking into the distance. 

He smiled too, his eyes focused on you.

Hyunjin had your back; and that was a pinky promise.

-

Finally, you arrived to your next destination, and you’d be there for a few days which meant you had to check into a hotel. 

You were glad to have some time to yourself, you needed a real shower and a real bed and just some time to get away from everything, recharge your batteries. 

You just finished with your shower and skincare when your phone annoyed you, buzzing with texts constantly. 

When you grabbed it you realized that you forgot to change Hyunjin’s name from ‘asshole’. 

You laughed to yourself, deciding to just add a little heart at the end. 

asshole<3: y/n what are you doing

asshole<3: why aren’t you answering

asshole<3: i’m BOREEEED

asshole<3: y/n!!!! 

asshole<3: princess?

asshole<3: i’m coming to your room

“Shit!” you exclaimed just in time when Hyunjin knocked on your door.

“Go away, Hyunjin!” you yelled on the other side. 

“Never! I will wake the whole damn floor if you don’t open this door.” he banged against it. 

“Spoiled brat.” you muttered to yourself before opening the door. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin looked you up and down, your hair still wet from the shower, your little nightgown accentuating all your goodies. 

“Did you dress up for me?” he smirked as his tongue darted out to play with his lip piercing; a habit you picked up on.

“Oh yeah, I was just waiting for you to come knocking on my door.” you answered sarcastically.

“Oh come on, I brought snacks.” he lifted up a few bags. 

“You should’ve said that first.” you stepped aside, letting him in. 

“So, are you here just because you’re bored?” you scoffed as he practically skipped to your bed before throwing himself on it. 

“No, I’m here cause I know you miss me.” he smirked at you. “I spared you the walk to my room, princess.” 

“Oh yeah, I am the one who missed you.” you said pointedly. 

“I know you are.” he wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned, throwing a pillow at him but the slick bastard caught it. 

“I’m gonna change into something else.” you said, feeling a bit self-conscious. 

“Into what? After that outfit, the only logical thing is to have nothing on.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” you snickered. 

“I would.” he smirked. 

“Changing right now!” you left for the bathroom to put on some actual pjs. 

“Don’t cross this line, Hyunjin.” you pointed as the two of you settled in your bed, ready to watch a movie and snack. 

He smiled his shit eating grin and put his finger over the line. 

“Whoops, crossed it.”

“Next time you lose a finger.” you threatened.

“Where is it gonna be misplaced?” he smirked. 

“Not where you think.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” he leaned closer to you. “But I can show you.”

“No thanks. Just watch the movie.” 

It was quiet for some time until Hyunjin spoke up. 

“I’m thinking of getting another tattoo.”

“Oh?” you didn’t take your eyes off the screen. “Where?”

“My back. I wanna finish what I started with my arm and shoulder.” he answered. 

“Which is?” you looked at him and he smirked. 

“Glad you asked.” he said, taking his shirt off. 

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” you jolted as he tossed it aside. 

“Showing you my tattoos.” he giggled. “See, it’s one big picture. I sketched the original on my paper, it’s a flower’s life story. From a little seed all the way to the dust it becomes after it wilts forever. It’s not finished yet though.” he turned and you gulped. 

“That’s a beautiful thought actually.” 

“Feel the flowers.” Hyunjin turned his shoulder to you. 

“I’m not gonna touch your tattoos.” you said. 

“Come on, you know you want to.” he taunted you. 

“No, I don’t.” you shook your head. 

“Yes, you do. You started ogling me as soon as I took my shirt off.”

“That’s because of your musc- nothing, nevermind.” you quickly caught yourself, biting your tongue as your face started burning. 

“Because of what? My muscles? You like them?” he started flexing immediately.

“That’s disgusting, stop acting like that.” you slapped his arm without thinking and you both froze. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin smirked before taking your hand in his. “Really, I want you to feel my tattoos.” 

“Fine if it gets you to shut up.” 

Your fingers gently traced the delicate art on Hyunjin’s skin, starting from his wrist up his arm as you watched goosebumps rise on his skin. 

You took your time to trace every leaf and petal as Hyunjin looked at you intently, his breaths coming out shaky as you traced over his arm, your fingers swirling with the intricate patterns. 

Your hand came up to his shoulder as you continued tracing, his skin was so smooth and he was so warm under your touch. 

“Y/n.” Hyunjin whispered, his hand covering yours as he leaned in closer to you, his eyelids hooded. 

Your eyes widened when you realized he was about to kiss you and you quickly moved away. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you stood up and Hyunjin frowned at you. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?!” 

“Trying to get into my pants!” you scoffed. “I think you should sleep in your room.”

“B-but, it’s not like that!” Hyunjin stood up and you backed away.

“I know what it’s like. Please leave.” 

“Fine.” Hyunjin looked dejected as he grabbed his phone and shirt. “Teddy is lonely without me anyways.” he said, making a theatrical leave out of your room as he dragged his feet and kept giving you pointed looks. 

You were almost close to telling him he can stay, but as soon as he leaned in, you panicked and didn’t know how to react so you kept your mouth shut.

And you continued spiralling when he left, thinking about if he actually likes you or just wants to fuck you like he does to any girl. 

You’ve seen him with girls on his arms constantly and while you always thought what you felt was hate or disgust; in this moment you recognized it was jealousy and it didn’t feel good at all.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

part 2

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hello! For the christmas celeb request, may i request a bullet hc of the twst characters (1st years preferably and anyone else u want) reacting to you kissing them on the cheek cause both of you were under a mistletoe and immediately running away afterwards? Like pre-relationship and it was almost instinctive for u but you couldn't bear to see their reaction jfjsjfjsjjs thank u so much !!!

COMMENTS: Hi. I liked the idea! I thought it was really cute. ❤️ And since it's something short I made it for all the characters. And as a bonus I also made it for Rollo. ☺️

Hope you and all enjoy it. 💋

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students (Ortho is platonic) + Rollo

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Headcanons

WORD COUNT: An average of 100 words per character. 

Context: You told them a little about Christmas and the tradition of giving someone a kiss when the two people were both under the mistletoe.

I don't believe Christmas exists in Twisted Wonderland, so this is a tradition of yours. Some of the boys have been spreading sprigs of mistletoe around in the hopes that this will happen and you will give them a kiss.

This is their reaction when you kiss them on the cheek out of nowhere and run away.

Riddle almost freezes as he blushes. He needs a minute to process what just happened.

When he finally looks around, astonished and confused, he can't find you anymore.

He looks up, sees the mistletoe and remembers what you told them about it.

He concludes that the best thing to do (and what he wants to do) would be to kiss you back when you were under the mistletoe again. 

So he will try to be close to you and attentive for when this happens.

And when it does, he will walk up to you with a smile, but blushing slightly, and give you a sweet surprise kiss on the cheek, like you did to him.

“You were under the mistletoe.” He smiles. “Rules must be followed accordingly.” He gives you one last loving look and continues on his way.

Ace jumps immediately! And blushes a little.

You run away while he's trying to ask what was going on.

“Oh, no you won't!” He doesn't waste time chasing after you.

When he reaches you, he grabs you in a hug.

“Did you think you could get away without revenge?” And he kisses your cheek back.

Deuce half jumps, half stands petrified in confusion.

He blushes and sees you running away. “Wait! What was that? (Y/N)!”

He has no idea whether to follow you or just stand there. And he is struggling with this decision.

When he finally realizes that there was mistletoe over the two of you, he decides to try to do the same and return your kiss.

And when he does, it will be a kiss like yours, quick, shy and he will run away.

Cater tried to grab you before you could run away, but he was unsuccessful. However, he didn't run after you.

He was so sad to see you leave after that sweet kiss.

“Aww, why are the cutest ones always the shy ones?”

He will try to find you to return the kiss.

And when he does, it will be a casual but loving kiss. He will wink at you and walk away.

Trey will look at you right after the kiss and see you running away.

He just chuckles amusedly. But he'll be more attentive so he can be the one to kiss you back next time.

And when he does, it will be when you least expect it. He will simply walk past you, minding his own business, stopping to kiss your cheek and moving on as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Leona can predict your steps, herbivore. Do you really think you could surprise him?

As soon as you turn to try to run away, he grabs you and pulls you back to him.

He gives you a lazy but loving kiss on the cheek and only then does he let you go.

He will enjoy watching your reaction with a smirk on his face.

If you stood there blushing, he'll say: “What? The herbivore wanted to play and can't even handle a counter-attack?”

Jack jumps and looks at you in amazement as you run away.

It takes a few seconds for him to process what happened.

But as soon as he notices the mistletoe above him, he realizes what happened and runs after you by instinct.

When he reaches you, he stands in front of you and cushion the shock.

He starts to blush when he realizes he's practically hugging you and lets you go.

“I... I just want to pay you back.” He says as his tail wags. He kisses you on the cheek and runs away like you did to him.

“Oi! Wait a minute!” Ruggie immediately runs after you without thinking.

As soon as he reaches you he grabs you in a hug.

“Shye hee hee. Do you really think you'll stop me from retaliating your attack by trying to run away from me?”

He kisses you on the cheek affectionately.

Azul is absolutely shocked! And confused. He sees you running away with a perplexed and blushing face.

Only then does he look up and see the mistletoe. “Damn it, now I'm in debt.” He never liked a debt so much.

He'll kiss you back even if he has to put a sprig of mistletoe right on the door of the Mostro Lounge VIP room.

And when he manages to attract you to where he wants you: “So, it seems you have made me indebted to you. Something dangerously bold, I must warn you. Fortunately I like to be merciful to you.” He kisses your cheek as quickly as you kissed his. “The deal is fulfilled.”

Jade simply looks at you running away with his eyebrows raised in surprise.

After realizing that it was because there was a sprig of mistletoe above the two of you, he chuckles.

He will follow you stealthily to pay you back in kind.

He will continue to follow and observe you until he finds the perfect and most fun opportunity.

And when that happens, he'll first enjoy watching you getting flustered and then give you a kiss on the cheek with the same intensity as yours and leave with a smile.

“Hm?” Floyd will look curiously at you running away.

And if he was in a bad mood, you just cheered him up.

He doesn't even care if it was because of the mistletoe. Now he wants to play tag with you.

He will follow you and wait for your guard to be down so he can surprise you with a hug.

“Bah~!” He kisses your cheek playfully. “This was fun. Let's play again!”

Kalim is surprised and when he looks at you he sees you running away.

He smiles very happily at your gesture, but he’s confused.

Only then does he look up and realize that you were under the mistletoe.

“Oh! I should try to do the same to them and return the kiss.”

The problem is that he will eventually forget to do it.

It's only when he meets you again and happens to be the one who sees the mistletoe above you first that he remembers: “Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. There's something I want to give you.” And he kisses your cheek playfully, but affectionately.

Jamil noticed you approaching, but since it was you he let it go.

However, he wasn't expecting to receive a kiss. So he quickly looks at you in shock and sees you running away as he blushes.

He puts his hood up to hide his face, and only then does he look up and see the mistletoe. And now he wants to pay you back.

He will mentally record all the places he sees where mistletoe is placed. And when he sees you near one he will find a way to put you where he wants you.

And when that happens: “Ah, (Y/N). I was looking for you. I need to give you something.” He kisses your cheek, says goodbye to you and continues on his way with a smirk on his face.

Did you just kiss Vil Schoenheit on the cheek? Without formal permission?! How bold! How daring!

He sees you running away with a mix of amazement and shock on his face. And with that hand on his chest like ‘Excuse you?’

The fact that he knows it was because of the mistletoe above you doesn't change the fact that he believes an act like that cannot go unpunished.

The next time he meets you: “You have no idea how lucky you are that what you did to me wasn't witnessed by someone who could sell it as scandalous gossip.” He tells you annoyed. Then he sighs. “You need to be more careful.” He smiles smugly. “And you need to make it up to me.”

He makes you agree to carry all his bags the next time he goes shopping.

“Oh, and one last thing.” He says, still looking angry, but then he kisses your cheek in a skillfully affectionate way. “You were under the mistletoe, dear.” He smiles and goes on his way.

“Wha?!” Epel gets startled and says something in his dialect before looking at you and seeing you running away. “What in tarnation was that?!” He blushes a lot.

He looks around trying to understand what just happened until he sees the sprig of mistletoe above him. This only makes him blush even more.

He doesn't really know what to do about it, but he knows he really wants to kiss you back.

However, it is fate (or Rook) that makes you meet again under the mistletoe.

And this time he is the first to realize it and quickly but passionately gives you a kiss on the cheek and runs away like you did with him.

Rook looks at you with one of the biggest smiles on his face, but sees you running away. “Oh non, Trickster. Why so shy?” He says with pity, but then he smiles with that hunter's look. “This way you leave me no choice but to go after you.”

And that's what he does, carefree and having fun.

He stalks you until he finds the perfect spot. Where the two of you will be completely alone and isolated.

You are startled by an arrow sticking out of a tree above you, with a sprig of mistletoe on the tip. And then by his voice.

“Aw, Trickster.” He says in a velvety voice and approaches you. “You left before I could thank you for the beautiful gesture. I was so happy to be able to feel your lips on my skin. Allow me to repay you.” He comes very close and kisses your cheek slowly and passionately.

Idia jumps and gives that high-pitched scream of his. He gapes at you as you run away. “YOU are the one who is running away? I'M THE ONE WHO WANTS TO HIDE!” his hair almost exploded in pink.

And that's what he does: he hides in his room for the rest of the day. Or almost, if it weren't for Ortho taking him out of there and convincing him to do the same to you with his help.

It takes a long time to convince him, but the two end up forming a plan.

They will lure you to a strategic point in Ignihyde where the two of you will be isolated from other people.

And Idia will appear out of nowhere behind you with that evil smile. “Very cowardly of you to hit and run. I thought you were braver, but it looks like I would lose that bet.”

Even though the tips of his hair are pink, he feels confident being alone with you and seeing you flustered as well.

He comes closer and gives you a cute kiss on the cheek. “There, we're even.” He turns around and practically runs away from you.

It was just a platonic kiss, so you didn't feel the need to run away. It was like kissing a little brother.

Ortho looks at you smiling with his eyes.

“Oh, this Gear doesn't allow me to return a kiss. Can I give you a hug instead (Y/N)?”

You just made Malleus fall in love with you (again).

He sees you running away, which makes him confused.

He didn't realize there was mistletoe all over you and that doesn't interest him either. Only you interest him.

He doesn't need to follow you, he transports himself to where you are.

“Why did you run away? Is that part of your tradition?” He asks a little sadly.

You will have to admit that you were embarrassed because you were afraid of his reaction and he will listen to you.

“Afraid?! Did you think I would punish you for this?” Now he is sad and worried.

You explain that you were just afraid he wouldn't like it because he might not like you back. And he laughs heartily.

“You needn't to worry about that, Child of Man. I can assure you that the feelings are mutual. Which makes me conclude that I should return the kiss.”

He kisses you on the cheek gently. And after that... he won't leave your side for the rest of the day.

You probably did it while Silver was sleeping, so you end up waking him up with your kiss. (the irony)

He looks at you confused as he has just woken up and sees you running away.

He is unsure whether you were part of his dream or not.

So when you meet again he doesn't talk about it.

But a little bird appears above you holding a sprig of mistletoe in its beak.

He ends up remembering the tradition you mentioned and asks if he could give you a kiss.

You accept and he kisses you softly on the cheek.

Sebek almost goes into a defensive position, but stops himself for knowing that it was you.

He sees you running away and for a second he is undecided whether to follow you or not. He ends up not following you because it wasn't an attack.

He will deny with all his might that he was blushing.

However, he feels he owes you the same in return, or that he must pay you back in kind.

The next time he sees you and you happen to be walking under another mistletoe he will shout: “HUMAN!” and will walk decisively towards you.

“You have a lot of nerve to do what you did and run away. At least stay and deal with the consequences properly!”

He quickly kisses you on the cheek with extreme affection and then straightens up while blushing.

“Here! The consequences of your actions.” He turns and walks away with every muscle tense.

You didn't surprise Lilia, but he pretended you did.

He lets you kiss his cheek and watches you run away, amused.

“Khee hee hee. Ah, shy youth, it's so cute. I should return the gesture.”

He will follow you until he finds the best opportunity.

He will appear right next to you, hovering upside down and give you a sweet kiss on the cheek as a surprise.

He will laugh in amusement at your reaction.

“Next time we're under the mistletoe, it'll be your turn. Khee hee.”

Rolo looks at you and freezes in that position, following you with a wide-eyed gaze.

It takes him a second to realize he's blushing a little and hide his face with his handkerchief.

“What rude impudence!” He says to himself, irritated that he liked it. “Forcing me to participate in such a ridiculous tradition. They should be punished for such disrespect.”

He won't try to kiss you back. Instead he will avoid you as much as possible. He doesn't want you to make him feel that way again. It's not... appropriate.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX