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filmtv2022 · 3 days ago

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Our Time is Limited (18+)

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader

-- Platonic/former lover relationship with Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Synopsis: Reader has belonged to Caracalla for as long as she can remember, her job has been to love and serve him in the quiet moments when even the attention of a concubine cannot suffice. She has served the emperor in whatever capacity he desired. Through the years her love for him grew beyond what many would have deemed proper for one in her position of employment, but it was not a romantic love. The presence of disease had stolen the man she'd once given everything to. Left to care for Caracalla in the midst of his break from reality, Emperor Geta and the reader are forced to admit the feelings they've long harbored for one another.

Warnings: SMUT/sexual acts + "cheating" (but not really, Caracalla and reader no longer have that kind of relationship) + alcohol consumption + language (?)

A/N: Well... when I said the crazy emperors had my brain... I wasn't lying. I have not abandoned my Marcus Acacius story... I just needed to get this off my mind. That said, there may be one more part of this depending on how I feel and how this does. I apologize for any mistakes. I wrote this in a couple of hours.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emperor Geta caught your approach. His eyes locked onto you, searching for any sign of anxiety or nerves. He knew without question that you desired to be anywhere but here, and still, he didn't doubt that your loyalty remained strong. Your features were stoney and severe with your attention falling to his brother whose eyes were on the scantly clad man sat before him. The burnt orange of your stola matched the hue his brother famously loved and complimented the bare expanse of skin along the shapely curve of your arms and shoulders. You were positively stunning, every bit the measure of the well-to-do women who adorned their husbands' arms.

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Hovering in the background, you squeezed between the spectators, inching closer to the emperors. The copper-headed pair sat surrounded by their entourage of concubines and common whores whose sole purpose was to entertain, to give in to the whims of the men they served. Your role was not entirely different, and yet, you were to be set apart from the others. Your presence at these events was required, but the emperors would sooner murder than allow the public to view you in the same light as those whose hands roamed their bodies in public. You served a much more intimate purpose. Therefore, you kept your distance, leaving just enough space between yourself and them so that no eyes would wonder and question.

Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Geta hesitated for a moment, seeing the weariness behind your eyes. Something troubled you, but given the state of his brother's mental well-being, it was likely as anything that was the cause of your worry. With nothing to be done at the time, he reached for the concubine he’d carted along for the day's festivities. Hauling her close, he let the weight of her hand against his chest, settle the crashing energy that sang through his body, but nothing was a match for the intensity of the fight that erupted amongst the gladiators.

The fight was brutal and quick. The larger man crumpled into a bloody heap, soaking the marble floor in a sea of sickly scarlet. The pool smeared beneath the weight of his body as the guards dragged him out of the room. The grunts and moans of pain were soon replaced by the questioning trill of Emperor Geta. The fight had clearly impressed him. The eloquent sound of poetry rolling off the tongue of the victor caught you as strange, but now was not the time to linger. With the crowd in awe and Geta keyed up, it felt like the appropriate moment to slink back into oblivion.

You maneuvered down a darkened hall, the only light poured in amber waves along the stone from the torches that lined the walls. The walk passed without note, the distant sound of chatter gave way to the echo of your sandaled feet. Each step brought you further from the chaos of the arena and for that you were grateful. No matter how many games you saw, the violence never grew more appealing. You couldn’t blame the emperors for enjoying the joys they were afforded in life, but that did nothing to change your opinion. They could eat, drink, fuck, and enjoy whatever and whomever they desired. Your job was simply to be there when called. No questions or judgment, and that was more than enough for you to handle.

The sudden clomp of footfalls barreling down the corridor sent electricity singing down your spine. Snapping back in their direction, you reached for the blade which sat flush along your thigh. The metal was warm to the touch, the heat of your body having warmed it palpably. No sooner had you freed it of its holster, than a familiar face rounded the corner. Emperor Geta’s pale face glowed oddly in the flickering light, the shadows casting his features in mystery. Sliding your weapon back into place, you stayed rooted to the spot and waited the mere seconds it took for him to close the space between you.

“Where are you going?” His voice was soft as he crowded into your space. His hands flexed at his sides, itching to touch you, to hold you close, but that was a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross, if only for the sake of his brother’s well-being. “My brother… he calls for you.”

Your face dropped to the floor, unable to stand the burn of his molten stare. “I am unwell… my-my head.” The lie was partially rooted in truth. The violence of the fight brought back memories of a long past day that led you to the gates of the palace, in need of a kindness that only those in power could grant you. The simple memory of which brought you real physical pain.

“Have you eaten today? Perhaps some wine and bread could cure what ails you. I have selected the best for our celebration.” A thin smile flashed upon the emperor’s face, pulling the corner of his lips up in a beautiful tilt though the grin didn’t meet his eyes.

“As much as I adore your taste in wine, I do not believe any amount of drink will ease the pain I am feeling. Now if you’ll excuse me, Emperor.” The swish of your stola brushing against your skin sounded as you turned away.

Panic flashed hot forcing Geta to move… to speak. “Wait!” His outstretched hand sat in the space between you for only a moment before dropping back to his side. “He needs you… he’s- he’s struggling. Today is not a good day.”

“I am aware, but he has you.”

“But I am not the one he desires.” Once again, Geta stepped closer, pleading with you to listen. “I fear what he will do, how he will act before the public today without you by his side. Please, for his sake… and for my own. Care for him as only you are able.”

The sheen that pooled in Geta’s eyes was enough to flip your stomach. This cruel and vicious man held his heart wide for those he loved. It was a select few, but those he cared for in that way were not only adored beyond measure but treated with a life only he could provide. There was a true sincerity to it. He held his brother dear despite the many rumors that circulated about the pair. Caracalla had long since been the subject of jokes and cruel speculation. It was true, the illness that plagued his loins had spread to his brain, eating away at the once vibrant and loving man he’d once been. And yet, no matter how much he’d lost to the disease, there was always a thread of his former self there to reel him in and back to reality.

But as of late, that thin connection between reality and fantasy had grown more fragile. It took a delicate hand to keep Caracalla balanced, especially in front of important company and prying eyes. You and Emperor Geta were the cherished few who had the ability to return Caracalla to this world, and increasingly, your loving touch seemed to be the only thing that worked.

“I understand. I will do what is necessary.” You nodded shallowly, acknowledging the favor the emperor had asked of you. “Let us not linger, it is unwise for him to be alone with those vultures you surround yourselves with.”

A flicker of shock at your boldness shot across his features, but he decided against pursuing the thoughts and questions that flooded his mind. Instead, he settled with a simple statement of thanks before guiding you back to his brother.

The murmur of people grew louder with each passing step until it reached a tipping point. Back inside the space you’d fled so quickly, you searched the crowd for Caracalla. It took only seconds to find him, standing beside the table overflowing with treats and wine. Your approach was lost on him, his entire focus settled on selecting the next delicacy. With his stability in question, you knew it would be wise to make your presence known before stepping into the space beside him.

“Emperor Caracalla!” The youthful man turned to find the person who’d spoken, and at the sight of you, an enormous grin erupted from ear to ear across his pockmarked face. “What delicious finds have you discovered for us today?!” The shirtless man who’d accompanied the emperor from before took one look at you and decided he was no longer needed. Relieved of his duty, he retreated to stand with the group of concubines that had formed near the entrance, greeting the guests as they moved to and fro.

“My dear!” Crumbs adorned the corners of his mouth as he held the remnants of a pastry in his hand. “Come! You must try this! It is simply delightful!”

The emperor met you halfway, holding out the last bite for you to take. You could feel the stares that descended upon the pair of you as he held the last bite to your lips. You opened for him, luxuriating in the sweetness that coated your tongue. Caracalla’s eyes gleamed with delight at the sound of your satisfied hum of appreciation unaware of how this interaction would appear to others.

“It was delicious. Thank you for sharing.” You reached for his face and brushed away the flecks of baked dough that clung to his makeuped countenance. Avoiding the open marks that even rouge could not cover, you pushed through the pain to give him the smile he so clearly wanted to see. The boyish wonder in his eyes was catching.

The emperor’s fragile hands settled on your waist. His touch was not that of a lover, but that of a young man desperate for the attention and love he deserved. Holding you close as he spoke. “Where did you go? I’d thought you’d left me.” Caracalla paused for a moment intending to let you speak, but the furrow of your brows kept the words flowing. “Are you all right? Your brow is pinched. You only get that look when you are in pain.”

Tenderly, you swept a stray hair away from his temple. “I am as well as can be expected, and please, forgive me for my momentary absence. The swell of noise during the fight was too much for me to handle. But I am here now. I would never leave you.”

“But you are not well… I can see it here. It is one of your head pains.” The pad of his finger ran between your brows and down the bridge of your nose. “You need not be brave for me. You must rest, there will be many more games for you to enjoy.”

Sensing a pair of knowing eyes upon you, your attention flicked in the direction of Emperor Geta and found him watching just as you’d suspected. Even without words, you knew exactly what he asked. The nearly imperceptible nod of your head assured him that you were going to uphold your promise.

“I appreciate your kindness, Emperor, but my place is here… with you. There will be time for rest later. Besides, I’m sure a steady flow of wine and pastries would do me good.” You forced yourself to smile once more before heading toward the table. “Join me. Tell me what I must try!”

A gleeful laugh bubbled from Caracalla as he followed quickly behind. The pair of you stayed like this, tasting and drinking until it was time to retreat to the Emperors’ box for the games. Focused only on the task at hand, your eyes never ventured into the arena. Rather, you studied the way Caracalla moved, the cadence of his speech, admiring the way his eyes lit up at the clash of swords. Through all this, unbeknownst to you, Geta’s attention split between the violence unfolding before him and yourself. He clung to the sound of your laughter and marked the hazy film that unfocused your gaze the longer the day drug on. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the pain you’d claimed to be ailed by earlier had grown nearly unbearable, and yet your attention never wavered. The dedication you showed his brother filled him with something he couldn’t label. The warmth low in his belly belied just how fully he’d come to care for you.

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Night had settled upon the emperors' residence. The halls fluttered with torchlight, but the depths of Geta’s chambers were a murky gray, illuminated only by the moon filtering through curtains that swayed in the breeze. The concubines he’d selected to entertain his needs lay spread out over his bed, their bare skin damp with sweat from the night’s activities. The only sound besides that of their gentle breathing was the rustle of the soldiers posted outside his door. One could never be too careful.

The blissful silence had him drifting into sleep when the sudden thunder of banging upon his door ripped him from the edge of slumber. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he reached for the knife that sat beneath his pillow, ready to defend himself should the need arise. Geta’d barely managed to extricate himself from the pile of limbs he’d been entangled with and don his robes when the frantic call of your voice pleading with his praetorian sent dread running through his limbs. Heavy with worry and lack of sleep, he pushed across the large room and ripped open the door.

The movement was followed by your lithe frame pushing inside his chambers, and what he saw only heightened his fear. Crimson stained your cheek, running down the smooth expanse of your neck before soaking into the luscious fabric of the robe you had wrapped around yourself. He recognized it at once as belonging to Caracalla. The fact that you’d been attending to his brother was not unexpected, but the wound that marred your face was terrifying.

“You’re hurt! Tell me at once who did this to you!?” Geta’s voice shook with the effort it took to maintain his control. Behind him, the stirring of his “guests” went unnoticed. His calloused fingers wiped gently at the oozing cut along the top of your cheek. You’d flinched from the pain, reaching for his wrist to still his ministrations. Frozen in place at the feeling of your touch, he waited barely breathing for your response.

“It’s your brother! He woke in a fit, he… he didn’t recognize me. He tried to- he thou- he thought I was there to kill him. He-”

“He did this to you?!” It wasn’t so much a question to you, but to himself for this was the thing he’d always feared. The day in which even your presence wouldn’t be enough to return him to this world.

“Yes.” You whispered, afraid of what this could mean for the beautiful men you’d come to adore after all this time. The pain in Geta’s eyes at your confusion was crushing. “I am so sorry, Geta.”

“Do not apologize. I will take care of this.” Forced to let go of you, he spoke quickly with his guards before dismissing his guests. The women scrambled for any scrap of clothing they could find and made their hasty exit.

Moving on his command, the soldiers hastened toward Caracalla’s chamber, leaving you behind with Geta. Alone, he grabbed for a chiton that lay draped over the chair beside him. Reaching for you, he pressed the cloth to your cheek applying pressure as he spoke, “Stay here, and keep this on the wound until I return. When I leave, lock the door behind me and open for no one other than myself. Understand?”

“Yes.” A slight nod from him was all he managed before turning to follow his praetorian.

Doing as you were told, you soon moved further into the room. You admired the lived-in feel it maintained despite the solid marble that made up every surface. The bed sat disheveled, clearly the night's adventures had been rather boisterous. Staring at the tangle of sheets, you felt the bile rise in your stomach. You laid no claim upon Geta and yet you couldn’t stop the bubble of envy that stirred in your soul.

The breeze fluttered through the curtains allowing you to peer beyond the protective walls of the palace to the streets of Rome. Even at this late hour, people moved about. Some lit their path with flame while others remained shrouded in darkness, praying they could slither about unnoticed. It took only a few more steps to reach the balcony. Fresh air filled your lungs as you leaned against the entryway, your nerves still buzzing with anxiety. Time slipped by unreliably. Each minute an hour, fraying the last of your resolve into shreds.

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Eventually, a soft knock accompanied by Geta’s worn voice pulled you across the room. Petrified to know what had become of the situation, you hesitated before opening the door. The wood groaned under your touch, but it was the tear-streaked face that lay on the other side that nearly stopped your heart.

“What happened?” You inquired, giving Geta space to slip inside his room. The loud thunk of the lock being placed filled the silence before he gathered the strength to speak.

Reaching for the cloth you pressed to your cheek, his voice trembled, the gravel in it even more present. “It is taken care of.” The soft thump of the chiton hitting the floor punctuated his confession. The pit in your stomach was anything but relieved by his answer.

“What does that mean?” You searched for signs of gore along the cuffs of his robes, terrified of what you might find.

“He’s sedated. May the gods right his mind during this sleep.” You watched Geta as he scanned over the now-clotted wound along your cheek. Though you couldn’t see, there was no doubt that deep shades of blue and purple had already begun to bloom alongside where the knife had sliced your skin.

“Come here. We must clean this or risk infection.” He moved toward the nearby table.

“It is alright. I can take care of it myself. There is acetum and honey in Caracalla’s chamber. There is no need to waste your supply or your time. You must be exhausted.” Tired only of pretending, Geta’s sturdy frame crowded your space, backing you gently into the cool expanse of stone next to the doorframe. With nowhere to go, you forced yourself to look him in the eye for the first time since he’d returned from tending to his brother.

Words clawed at the back of your throat, trapped beneath the swell of emotions that burned the bridge of your nose. As if moving on their own accorded, Geta’s sure hands found the curve of your waist and the stained column of your neck. Resting his brow against yours, the warmth of his breath drifted over your face as he spoke. “Stay here... with me. I do not care for the idea of you alone with him. Not after this.”

Geta’s chapped lips brushed over yours, never quite embracing the plush expanse of your mouth, but it was more than enough to send a flush rushing over your skin. Your lungs hitched at the feeling of his mouth falling to the hollow of your neck. He hovered over your body, only catching skin for fractions of a second at a time. Your hands found him, running the length of his chest before dipping inside his robes to trace light lines over the ripple of muscle that lay beneath the surface. Geta’s own lungs caught at the press of your hand low upon his abdomen.

Your whisper at the shell of his ear locked him in place. “I cannot stay, you know this. My place is with him.”

“That is only half the truth and you know it. You feel it the same as I… you belong here… with me. You always have.”

“My contract would say otherwise.” The raw ache in your voice pulled Geta back to look at your face. Silver pools threatened to fall as you continued, “Until your brother passes or frees me from his service, I belong to him and no other. It matters not what I feel for you.”

“You cannot believe that.”

“Then what am I to believe?” Defiantly, you pressed the flat of your palms to his chest and pushed him back further. “He is the emperor of Rome, the same as you. To defy him would mean my death, even you could not overrule that.”

“He would he would never have to know.”

“Secrets move like lightning in this palace. There would be no keeping this from him.” You moved to make your exit, but the firm grip of Geta’s hand on your wrist kept you from fleeing. You whipped to face him, striking with your words like a snake, “My death would be on your hands and I do not want that weighing on your conscience. Not now, too much rests on your shoulders. If you feel for me as you say you do… then you know what we must be to each other. We can have nothing more.”

“I’m tired of waiting, of pretending that I want anyone but you warming my bed. You are what I desire, what I have always desired. Must I continue to lie to appease my brother?”

“Your brother’s time grows short. I will not squander it and neither should you!”

“There are enemies around every corner, there is no promise of tomorrow. Why should I deny myself what I want most?” Swiftly, Geta hauled you close, his lips crashed against yours, devouring the taste of you. With your back against the wall once more, he slotted his thigh between your own, pressing you down upon himself and earning the most glorious moan from your lips. Caution was thrown to the gods as you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding firm to the roots as he palmed your breasts over your robes. The swipe of his thumb over your nipple sent shivers down your spine and sparked a newfound energy in the emperor.

He wanted more, needed more. The sounds of your altered breathing, paired with the dampness pooling along his thigh gave him the permission to keep going. With practiced ease, he untied the knot at your waist, and pushed the oversized robe from your shoulders, exposing you to him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled against your skin as he spoke. His lips worked a line of fire from the hollow of your neck to your chest. The talented flick of his tongue over your nipple had you gasping for air. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Tiny whimpers from you accompanied his continued journey south. Dropping to his knees, he found himself mesmerized by the feeling of your skin beneath his lips. Calloused hands roamed the broad expanse of your stomach before dropping to explore your thighs.

Geta nipped and sucked at the skin there, leaving marks only he’d know existed. Nearly to where you needed to feel him the most, the emperor pulled back, leaving your skin on fire and your need unfulfilled. A whine ripped from your lungs as your eyes dropped to look at him, and what you found was intoxicating. Geta’s eyes were blown, the rich brown was hidden behind his pupils. Lust had replaced all other emotions.

Your fingers ran through his soft strands in a feeble attempt at guiding him back to you. When you felt him resist, you finally spoke. “Why have you stopped?”

Geta’s strong hands gripped the back of your legs, keeping you steady as he spoke. “Believe me when I say this, I love you. Nothing will stand between us. I vow to protect you until my dying day”

The emperor didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, his mouth returned to you, this time right where you’d wanted him before. The steady pressure of his lips around your sensitive bud would have been enough to bring you over the edge, but the insistent curl of his fingers in your core had you keening. Geta hummed against you adding to the pleasure. It had been far too long since you’d felt the loving touch of another. What existed between you and Caracalla had never made it to this point. For certain, there had been romantic moments, sensual touches, and lust-fueled encounters, but those had long since ceased. Even prior to the onset of his illness things had begun to shift. But the real change had come upon him falling ill. This had brought about a necessary departure from that kind of bond. The disease that stole him from reality also stole him from the urges that all humans felt, leaving you to take care of yourself in those moments for far too long.

But in this room, surrounded by only moonlight, and the man at your feet, you found yourself again. It took only a few more well-placed strokes of his fingers for Geta to bring you over the edge. Sparks tore through your body, causing your muscles to spam and your core to clench in rhythmic waves around his fingers. Carefully, Geta worked you through your release stopping only once he felt your body relax. Unsure of your ability to stay standing on your own, he stood to full height, capturing your lips at once.

You could taste yourself upon his lips, earning him a heady groan. Wanting to hear more of you, he brought his slick-covered fingers to your mouth, running his calloused fingers lips along them before dipping past your lips. The plush heat of your tongue swirling around him, sent his head spinning as he purred in your ear. “Good girl.”

You could feel him hard against your stomach, his own robes were now damp with arousal. The desire to return the favor was overwhelming, and had it not been for his next request, you’d have dropped to your knees just then. Geta smoothly whispered. “Let me take you to bed, even if it’s just for tonight. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Geta’s wide palms slid over your backside before lifting you gracefully into his arms. Stumbling back to his bed, he lowered you into the expanse of soft sheets that covered the mattress. With you safe and settled, he stepped back and removed his robe. Dropping the burgundy and gold material to the ground, his fist ran the length of his cock, tearing a hiss from between his teeth as he rolled over the throbbing tip.

Geta’s self-control crumbled at the sight of you sprawled out before him. Your hands roamed your own body fluttering over your core and massaging your breasts. With each pass of your fingers, his need to feel you wrapped around him grew too much to bear. Done with waiting, done with watching, the emperor lowered himself on top of you, collecting your slick with his member before easing himself inside. Geta’s strong arms caged you in, blocking out everything but the feeling of you and him together. He searched for your lips, needing to kiss you, but the embrace soon turned into nothing more than swallowing each other's moans. Each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge once more, even as he clung to the final shred of himself.

“Geta, please…” The pitiful sound of his name tumbling from your lips, accompanied the drag of your nails along his back. Your actions were sure to have left a mark, but it mattered not. With one final pull at the base of his hair, Geta let himself go. You were soon to follow. Your ragged breaths matched with his as he lowered himself further onto you. His weight was heavy against your chest, and yet you knew without it you’d feel exposed. It was exactly what you both needed as you came down from your high.

As your breathing slowed down, the emperor rolled to his side, leaving you empty. You whined at the loss of him, but as if sensing your need, he reached for you, hauling you close. Your face pressed into his chest as your legs tangled. Alone, in his bed, Geta pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you close. For the first time in ages, the world seemed right, as if nothing terrible could happen. He knew that come break of day things would return to normal, but for now, he’d live in this temporary reality.

#emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta smut #geta smut #geta x reader #gladiator ll #gladiator fanfiction #gladiator ii #gladiator 2

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vaguely-concerned · 1 day ago

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My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content.

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* — up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug.

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were.

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #dragon age meta #solas #varric tethras #rook #I love what weeekes has managed to do with solas in this game honestly. both kinder and harsher reads on him?#completely supported by the text and completely valid. it really does come down to how you feel individually at the end of it all #there are good arguments to be made in every direction. sing o muse about a complicated man.#and also a motherfucker (affectionate *and* derogatory)#forgiveness isn't about him it's about you ultimately. do you find it in yourself or are there things that shouldn't be forgiven? up to you #he deserves both compassion and to be slam dunked straight into hell often with equal intensity. and i think that's beautiful #face in my hands. it keeps happening to me. I black out and I've written a whole thing and feel like I've been through a meat grinder #clearly my brain needs to Process things very badly but god I wish I could maybe control a bit more when and how intensely it does it lol #obligatory disclaimer that this is only my personal opinion and read on the game and characters involved etc. YMMV

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angelicqsa · 3 days ago

Text

⋆˚࿔𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗧𝗼𝗼.

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 | 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 | 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗅 <3 𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗋𝖺𝖿𝖾..

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

────────────˚🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆────────────

Rafe has been your best friend for years. You two spent your youth years with one another. Anywhere you went, he went. That was just how it was with you two. Until you both started getting older, when he was just 15 he got introduced to drugs that were less harmful and addictive like marijuana. But as time progressed, Rafe was introduced to crack which made you constantly worry about him and his lifespan.

The first time you had actually snapped and got angry with him was senior year, he had just came from the bathroom with crack residue under his nose. You felt as if he was willingly throwing his life away and trying to get in trouble, especially because he was doing the drugs in school.

"Rafe! are you seriously doing that stuff again!? We are in fucking school! How reckless and careless can you be?" You whisper yell to him as you pull him out of your class.

"Chill out... its just fun" He says with his head all the way in the clouds.

You look at him with disappointment and shake your head. You always cared for Rafe. You were probably the more responsible one.

"Dont you care about school? Graduating?" You whisper yell, getting more furious as time progressed. All Rafe did was nod off and walk away. You felt your heart break a little per step he took. He was careless, reckless. And yet you were always there to try to help and pick up the pieces. You loved him, you would do anything for him. But you knew that he wasn't what you needed at the time.

"Rafe! are you home?" You say as you put groceries on his marble counter, you've gotten used to grabbing Rafe some groceries when you go grocery shopping. Three years later, here you were waltzing into Rafes house he got a few months back, and he immediately gave you a key, the first day he moved in. You felt special, you felt important.

You hear nothing but silence, which was weird because you were pretty sure you saw his white jeep in the driveway.

You decide to look around for him wondering if he fell asleep or maybe was busy. You venture through the living room and dining room and make it to the stairs. You then hear a faint beat, and faint music playing.

"RAFE!" You yell his name attempting to get his attention, but you figure the music is to loud and walk up the stairs you start to approach his door which is shut.

You open the door and start saying "Rafe Cameron i kno-" You get cut off by the scene you just walked into.

It was Rafe mid line sniff. He looks up at you with panicked eyes and rush to his phone to cut the music off.

He sniffs and wipes his nose before looking at you. You had so many emotions, anger, sadness, disappointment. Rafe hasn't done used in a while, he's been clean, happy, normal. You didnt know what changed but you were upset and started yelling.

"Rafe! are you shitting me right now!? are you seriously using this stuff again?? I thought you were done Rafe! I thought you changed." You start yelling whilst throwing your hands in the air like a mad man. You cared for Rafe, you valued him and would do anything for him. Deep down you knew it was a little more than that.

"Jesus christ Y/n, can you please shut up with the yelling." He mutters.

"Are you serious Rafe? your fucking concerned with my yelling? you need to be concerned with your safety! you know fucking with that shit can end up bad! you've seen it first hand!" You scream at him. Rafe had turned into a complete psycho when he was heavily addicted. After his dad 'died' he spiraled, and who was there to help him? You. So you knew everything that had happened and you knew the demons the cocaine brought out of him.

"Y/n, shut the fuck up! chill out and mind your damn business. You dont know what the fuck you're talkin' about." He spits at you with aggression. You look at him with wide eyes, how dare he act as if you weren't there, and to chill out?? worst thing to say to a girl while she's mad.

"I dont know what im talking about!? Rafe i was there when Ward 'died' and you spiraled! I've always been here!" You yell at him with anger and you shove his shoulder.

"Just because you weren't able to fix your dad, doesnt mean you have to try and fix me! stay the FUCK out of it." He grits out. You gasp and your eyes widen, Rafe hit a low, a very dangerous one. Rafe had never talked to you like that, even when he was high out of his ass, still he'd never disrespect you like that.

Your dad had been addicted to cocaine and overdosed off it. You had never been the same, walking into your house and shaking your dad desperately, trying to wake him up.

"Dad! Dad look!" You wave your princess crown that you just had gotten from a musical you and your mother just had went to see with a huge smile and metal along your teeth, your mother was still grabbing her purse from the car, you wave the crown in the air. No response. "Dad..?" You see your dad turned on his stomach on the couch.

You place your crown on the end table and run over to the couch and shake you dad, eager to show your new prized possession.

One shake...

His limp body returns to it original position, showing no sign of him waking up,

A second shake

He still doesn't wake up, and his body remains there. Usually after the second shake your dad would wake up, he wasn't usually a hard sleeper.

You start to panic and shake him really hard, "Dad..?" You keep shaking him and start to scream his name.

Your mother hears the scream and runs inside the house, "Y/n, honey whats wrong?" She says with wide eyes rushing to you and your father. Your mother had an idea that he was using some kind of drug, but she never knew it was that bad.

You still remember the waves, the ocean, the smell. Everything from that day.

You also remember the day you told Rafe, you broke down at the beach after faking and walking around like everything was okay, when really it wasn't.

Rafe held you close to him and rocked you while you cried, you held onto him like he was gonna leave next. The days after that, he came and visited you and your mother, inviting you guys to events with his family, somedays staying over one night and one night sometimes turned into 3 nights. Your mom never minded.

Your eyes start to water as you just stare at Rafe, still in disbelief from what he said. You shake your head and shove him harder than before. "Fuck you Rafe! I never want to see your face again." You said with a tight jaw and tears streaming down your face. You then storm out of his room and slam the door, you practically run downstairs and out of his front door and jump into your car.

That was about a week ago, now you had been ignoring every single call and text from Rafe. Speaking of the devil he just texted you.

You just ignore his messages and continue eating lunch with your mom.

"Mama can you pass me the pepper please." You mutter to your mom.

"Sure thing, what's up with you lately? You havent looked.. happy." She says as she hands you the pepper. You just look down at your food, trying to conjure up the words but you were unable to. So you just shrug your shoulders.

"Don't lie to me Y/n, your my daughter, i know you." She reaches over the table and grabs your hand and looks at you, "Please, whats going on honey."

You feel it all come out and shatter in front of her, "Me and Rafe got into a horrible fight," You sob and wipe your eyes, "I caught him using and c-confornted him! t-then he brought up dad and... h-he said.." You sigh and look at your mom through your tear kissed eyes, then you whisper, "He said.. just because i wasn't able to fix dad doesnt mean i should try and fix him.." You say and more tears run down your cheeks.

You mom looks at you with widened eyes, astonished. She shakes her head and says softly "He wasn't in his right mind, you know he didn't mean it".

"Doesnt mean it didnt hurt mom!" You say through you sniffles while wiping your tears.

"I know you're hurt, hell i can't even believe he said that.." She says while looking at me. "But sometimes when people are hurt, or feel hurt, they say anything to hurt someone else. Doesn't make it right, but maybe he's going through things to. Take that into consideration and think for some time, Rafe has been your friend for years, im sure he would never mean such a thing."

You nod at your mom and say "All i wanted to do was help him, help someone i care about you know? and it blows up in my face.. I-.. I love him a lot mom.. i just dont know what to do.. ive just been ignoring him, but i never found out what was the cause of him using."

Your mom nods at your words and smiles, "I always knew you two had a thing for each other."

"I doubt he feels the same way, he looks at me as a sister, but thats besides the point. I just need time from him.." You say with your gaze facing the ground.

Your mom nods and gets up and walks next to you then gives you a hug, "Dont let him go completely, at least try, try to be there, try to help, youve been doing it so continue doing it. Dont make the same mistake i made with your dad.." She breaths and you see a tear drop down her cheek, "Dont try and ignore it, make sure he gets the help he needs before it to late, one day you see him and the next.. he's cold and lifeless." She whispers.

You feel your heartbreak even more. You knew your mom felt guilty about your dad's death, she felt that she could've done more and that if she did, he would be alive still. It's all too much..

You help your mom clean the dishes and bid your goodbyes and thank her.

You walk to your jeep and sit there for a moment, Rafe, your dad, everything was just a lot, you wanted it all to go away. You wanted peace, you wanted everything to be good again, in a span of a week shit went downhill and fast. You wish you could go over to Rafes and just cuddle with him and watch movies, that's what you always did when you were stressed. But your mad at him so you start your car and drive to your house.

──𝗥𝗮𝗳𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃.

7 days, thats how long its been since ive heard her pretty voice. I have no idea what i did. I remember bits and pieces, me.. using.. she caught me and there was a lot of yelling but thats all i remember.

I've been texting and calling her nonstop, voicemail. Thats all i've gotten. I miss her, so so much. I just want to fix this, whatever this is between us.

I sit at the wreck and Topper comes and pulls up a chair. "What up man? You seem down.. everything good?" He says.

"Fine man." I mutter to him as i take a bite of my fry.

He nods "Its Y/n, isn't it." He says.

I freeze at her name and look at him, he then says "You always wear that look when your upset about something pertaining to her." He smiles, "You two are somethin'" He then proceeds to call a waiter over and order his food.

I give him a tight lipped smile, do i really wear a certain look when i get upset about somethin' with her?

Topper finishes ordering his food then says, "So you gonna tell me whats going on?"

I contemplate on telling him, sometimes he's a blabber mouth especially when he's drunk. But i need someone to talk to, i need guidance and i guess i gotta get it from him..

"Well she's been ignoring me for about a week now, i just.. i dont know what i did.." I say while running my hands over my nearly bald head.

"Well when's the last time you two saw each other?" He says.

"Well uh.. she came to my house, brought me groceries..she then uh saw me using.. and you know how she feels about me using it but i-.. i was having a really hard day. We had a yelling match but i don't exactly remember the words, it all kind of blurred, i was high out of my mind. Next thing i know.. shes ignoring my calls and messages." I say releasing a big breath, that was a whole lot to explain.

Topper raises an eyebrow and nods "Have you ever thought that maybe.. you said something..?" He looks at me. "No offense but your anger reaches a new high when you're on that stuff"

I soak in his words for a minute. Maybe i did say something, and that something had to be absolutely horrible for her to ignore me like this and for this long.

Did i talk about her insecurities..? probably not. Shes perfect so i dont look at them as something she should insecure about.

There one sensitive topic that couldve made her this upset..

Her dad..

I'm really hoping i didn't say anything about him, knowing everything her and her mom went through. I was there for her, then i throw it in her face? i would be a fucking horrible person.. I really fucking hope i didn't do that.

That cocaine shit is really messing me up, now its messing up my relationships. Relationship. Y/n is so important to me, the girl of my dreams really. But i'm too fucked up for her, she doesn't need me.

"I think i fucked up really badly Top..really badly." I say in shame with my head down. How could i be shitty to her? after everything she's stuck by me through..

"Its okay man, as long as you own up to it and talk to her, things could end up fine." Topper says while patting my shoulder.

"Go talk to her Rafe, get clarity, own up to it and be honest. Its about time you two be honest with each other." Look at Topper finally being helpful, actually providing guidance.

"Thank you Top, you've helped a lot."

I get an idea and quickly excuse myself and hop in my car.

──𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗼𝘃.

You arrived at home a couple minutes ago and was sitting in your couch with a tub of ice cream and your cat on your lap. You were watching 10 things i hate about you and you were at the part where Kat and Patrick were at the party and you hear you doorbell.

You press the pause button on your remote and groan. Who could be at your door right now? you told your friends not to come over and you already had seen your mom earlier.

You open the door and reveal Rafe standing there with his head down.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to deal with anything pertaining to Rafe right now.

"Why are you here Rafe?" You ask with anger laced in your words. How dare he show up at your doorstep? he couldnt have waited until you were ready??

"Can i come in please?" He asks desperately. You feel sort of sad seeing him so.. desperate. But then you remember his harsh words and that sadness fades away. You step over as a way of telling him to come in.

"Why are you here?" You repeat with less anger than before. He walks to your island and sits on one of your stools, you do the same. And you know now is the time to face it, face all the pain. Finally get it all out.

"I-.. We need to talk." He says, you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it and says, "Could you please listen to me for a moment..?" You nod and let him continue.

"I-.. I know im not the best person, hell i still dont know why you stick it out with me. But you are always there for me, you are my person, the person i go to about any and everything, i value our friendship so much its.. its more than a friendship. But i treated you shitty the other day, i just know it. I dont know exactly what i said but i know it hurt you really bad. I hurt you.. something i never ever wanted to do. After seeing how you were after your dad died, i vowed from that day on to put nothing but a smile on your face and to always look out for you. Im-..Im so sorry Y/n, i know i dont deserve your forgiveness but you mean everything to me and i'll do everything in my power to make it up to you." He finishes with tears in his eyes while also heaving after saying so much.

You didnt know what to feel, you felt all over the place, you wanted to cry, scream, kick him out, hug him all at the same time.

"Rafe.. I.. you hurt me.. you brung up something that still haunts me to this day.." You say while tears start to form in your eyes. He begins to open his mouth to speak, but now it was your turn to cut him off.

"But.. i cannot hold a grudge against you.. you're important to me to, all i want is for you to get the proper help Rafe, you really need it whether you like it or not. If there's anything you can do.. do that. I don't want to see you end up the same way my dad did.. " You stand up and walk close to him and settle between his legs and in front of his chair, "I dont want anything to happen to you.." You lay your head on his shoulder and wrap your arms around him, you both share tears.

"I promise you, ill go to rehab, get the proper help i need. Stop hangin' around people who dont want the best from me." He says while looking down at you, deep in your teary eyes.

"I hope so Rafe.. I hope so. Just please, dont hurt me again ill be a wreck like i have these past few weeks." You say while chuckling at the end, you felt relief, you and Rafe were back on good terms. You've missed him so much wanting to cuddle him, until you remembered why you were mad at him..

"I won't hurt you.. never again." He says while putting his forehead on yours, you both close your eyes with smiles settled on your faces. Peace is what you felt. Happiness, is what you also felt.

"Ive missed you so much" He whispers and you open your eyes and look up at him and whisper, "Oh yea? ive missed you to."

He smirks and shakes his head, "I was going crazy over you girl, i even went to Topper for advice which is.. really rare.."

You giggle and throw your head back, and smirk "You were so desperate you went to Topper..? would you look at that"

He smiles and pulled you closer, "You wanna know somethin' he told me?"

Your breath hitches at how close the both of you are, you've been close like this before but.. something different was in the air.. desire, desperation. You then whisper "And what was that..?"

He then says "He said that it was about time that we were honest with each other." You look at him confused, you were always honest with him.. was he not always honest with you?

"Are we not always honest with each other..?" You say tilting you head, a little nervous at the answer you might get.

"Maybe.. but i know i haven't.. these feelings i have.. its so much. I honestly feel like i fell for you, like im..in love with you." He says slowly, a little nervous.

You feel butterflies and your nervousness disappears and is replaced with a warm feeling, you then say "Im in love with you to.. always have been Rafe. Its always been you."

He smiles and you both look each other deep in the eye, then you decide to close the space between you two and kiss him, you both kissed each other passionately with a bit of hunger behind it. You smiled into the kiss and felt him smirk. You just couldn't believe what the hell was happening. Just about an hour or two ago you were crying over him to your mom, and now he's in your kitchen kissing you.

You pull away first for air and stare at him with a big smile on you lips, he looks at you with a smile also.

He kisses you again more hungrily and a kiss turns into a full makeout session which was well needed after all the time you two had hid your feelings for one another.

He picks you up and gets out the chair and walks you two over to the couch, not breaking the kiss. He sits and you settle on his lap and pulls away for air.

You put your forehead against his and say "I love you Rafe." You smile hard, happy you're able to finally say it.

"I love you too Y/n." He kisses you again, and then he says, "You know your mine right?"

You giggle and nod and cuddle into him and press play on your movie and finish your tub of ice cream with him.

The next morning you both get up and look for rehab facilities together.

This was just the start of a future.

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘛𝘰𝘰 ୨ৎ

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐яєqυєѕт!

────────────⋆˚࿔ 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐪𝐬𝐚𝜗𝜚˚⋆───────────

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron oneshot #drew starkey x reader #obx #obx smut #outer banks #rafe cameron fluff

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mydarlingclaudia · 3 days ago

Text

every word I meant to say

note : ermmmm hi. don't ask where I went for like almost a month work is eating me alive and I was sad. this was inspired by that the unsent project thing andddd idk if I really like this it's def ooc but I was thinking about it again today and this has been in my drafts since September so I figured why not

wc : 2.1k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis @sonya-semyonova

desc : letters that went unsent. kind of unrequited love, angst (???), more Leon focused, re2r!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader, ooc, not proofread

"I meant to write sooner, I really did. I know it's been a year, my life is so different now, I don't think you'd even believe me if I tried to explain it. I hope you're doing better than I am, I'm happy you weren't able to move to the city with me."

Leon hasn't written a letter since, what, his first few years in the academy? Maybe the end of his senior year of high school? He can't really remember, but he knows that this letter is important because it's to you, his friend he hasn't seen since the night he left for Raccoon City. This isn't even an actual letter, he's scribbling out what he thinks might be good excuses as to why he hasn't talked to you in a year on the back of pieces of scrap paper he took from the office.

He's supposed to be asleep right now, same as everyone else in boot camp, but it's been a year since Raccoon City and he's wondering if you ever tried to reach him. Maybe you tried to go to Raccoon City to look for him, only to see the pile of rubble that stood in its place, sectioned off by the government. Maybe you thought he was dead, he wouldn't blame you.

You and Leon had stuck together all throughout high school, even managed to stay friends when he went off to the police academy and you moved a few hours away for college. He doesn't even know if your address is still the same, he really hopes it is, there's no phone-books in boot camp if he wanted to try and call you, you're supposed to have your loved ones numbers memorized.

The last time Leon saw you was the night before he was supposed to move to the city, before he got a letter in the mail the next morning telling him not to come in, he really wishes he had listened. You were so happy for him, starting out as a city cop was a big deal and he had worked so hard to get there, you and a few friends had thrown him a going-away-party, telling him not to forget you once he got to the city. Leon couldn't forget you if he tried.

You had talked about moving to the city with him for a short period of time, it was really just ramblings the two of you kept bringing up. "Oh, when we live in the city..." "I can come visit you at work..." "I'll handle dinner, you'll handle cleaning..." Nothing ever really came of those ideas, but it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach knowing you wanted to come to the city with him.

He hopes you’ve been well, that life has been kinder to you than it has to him. Leon hopes you got that job you were gushing about the last time he saw you, he hopes you still think of him on his birthday because he thinks of you often.

He shouldn’t have gone to Raccoon City, he should’ve stayed home the day he left and instead stopped by your house to bother you about going to see a movie. Or he should have taken you to lunch, anything would’ve been better than walking into a city that was beyond saving.

"I’m not really sure what I’m saying, but I know I miss you. How have you been? I hope I’m able to come and visit soon, everything’s been moving so fast, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get dinner, or something. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it, don’t worry."

Leon's hands shake a tiny bit when he thinks of you, it's that school boy nervousness that movies portray whenever there's a boy with a crush on a girl who he knows is probably too out of his league. You were friends, at least.

"You're done with school now, right?" He knows you are. "I wish I was there for the graduation ceremony, I know your parents are proud. Do you remember my graduation party? Someone spiked the punch and we both ended up passed out in the bathtub at your house, you looked really pretty that night. I hope your graduation was better than mine. This would probably have been better as a phone call, but I don't know, you said letters were always more thoughtful.

– Leon"

–

That letter never got sent. Every letter needs an envelope, Leon just never got around to finding one, but he kept that scrap piece of paper tucked inside his pillowcase on the odd chance that he got his hands on one. He had stricter rules to follow than the other recruits, being legally dead and all.

But even after he got out of boot camp, he kept the letter. It's hidden away in some drawer in his house, he's not sure where, though.

He didn't make it into the army, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but being in the position he was in now wasn't much better. He's stronger now, hardened, more mature.

Leon's written a few more letters to you over the years, ones that still never got sent because he either deemed them unworthy or because he became unsure of himself halfway through writing it. But he hasn't thrown any of them away, he'll send them one day, he swears it.

Leon's not using you as a way of journaling, either, even though he should find some way to actually write down his thoughts to get them out of his head. What he writes to you is mostly memories, telling you that his life keeps changing and that he misses you. He knows you're different by now, too. You're both grown, no longer in high school, no longer in college or the academy. If he could turn back time, go anywhere other than Raccoon City, he would. He thinks that's selfish of him, him not being there would've left Claire and Sherry in that city, but how would he have even known?

"Me again, hope you're doing better than I am." Leon's way with words gets worse and worse by the week, not that he cares. "I met someone who kind of reminded me of you, she's a sweetheart, like you. You'd probably become fast friends if you were ever able to meet."

Leon's not allowed to tell you about his mission in Spain, or about the president's daughter. President Graham is putting more body-guards in place for his daughter once she steps foot in D.C. again, Leon's sure the president considered appointing Leon as one of them at some point since breaking the news that she was going to be coming back home safely.

Leon should stop thinking about you so much, it's not like you were his only friend in the world, you've probably forgotten him, anyway.

"My life is still different, but yours probably is, too. This probably sounds stupid, but I miss being in high school. You probably don't, your mom was up your ass all the time and you worked yourself to the bone. Has that changed at all?

I remember that one year I went to Thanksgiving at your house, your uncles were all drunk and your cousins kept trying to get me to come sit with them, your grandpa was trying to get me interested in football. I haven't had a holiday like that since then, your family was always really nice to me."

He's not sure what to say anymore, these letters always just end up dragging out, but Leon has a lot of memories and he hopes you think of them as often as he does.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. It's harder for me to get time off of work these days, even though I could really fucking use it. I promise one day I'll come back, it's just not going to be for a little while. Just don't do anything dumb.

– Leon"

–

Those letters he's been writing you have piled up in the drawer of his nightstand.

He's definitely sure that your address has changed by now, you're probably not even in the same state anymore. He could always try to find you on Facebook, explain everything that's been building up over the years in a simple text, but there's still rules he's supposed to follow even in his personal life.

Leon didn't stop writing, though. The letters did eventually get shorter, he's not sure if you like the same things anymore or if you'd even be interested.

He writes now mostly about how different his life would be if he was with you, if he had just asked you out in high school or kissed you the night he was supposed to leave for Raccoon City. It almost feels real to him when he goes to sleep, but that might just be the alcohol numbing his brain, not the dream of you sleeping next to him or the feeling of your breath on the back of his neck, not even the little pitter-patter off tiny footsteps coming from down the hallway.

It does make him feel a bit pathetic, dreaming of a life with someone he hadn't talked to in years. Leon can't help but think of you, he always thought you were pretty, and the past always lives in the back of his mind, but it comes alive late at night.

You're an entirely different person by now, someone who he hasn't had the opportunity to meet yet. You're probably married, maybe you even have a few kids running around, Leon's jealous of that. That could've been him, but it's not. But he's not even sure if you'd recognize each other if you passed by on the street, so is it even worth it to dwell on all the maybe's?

"I'm not sure I'll get to visit you for a while, not without a lucky fucking twist of fate, anyway."

All these letters are starting to sound the same, but Leon clings onto the thought of someday sending them to whatever corner of the country you were hiding in and hoping that there's still room in your life for a stranger.

"Do you still want me over for dinner? You don't know what I'd give to just eat a shitty meal with you right now."

You don't know what he'd give to do anything with you, really. He knows that there's a lifetime worth of things he's missed out on and that maybe every once in a while you think about him in the same way he thinks about you.

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you married? I know you'd look stunning in a wedding dress." You probably are, you're a catch, who wouldn't want to put a ring on your finger? Your husband's probably a better man than he is, too. One who hasn't had years worth of trauma jammed into his brain with the proof of it marked across his body, your husband probably takes you out on a date every week, maybe even surprises you with breakfast in bed and kisses the nape of your neck to gross out your kids. "I really hope you're happy, in my head you are.

I wanted that to be us, I never told you, but I was a chicken-shit kid and didn't know how to say it. You show up in my dreams sometimes, you deserve nothing but the best. I meant to get back in touch with you forever ago, but I think it's probably too late.

– Leon"

–

Two years after his last letter and Leon's still thinking of you, seventeen years after Raccoon City and the image of you sitting across from him for the last time still loops in his mind. He doesn't really remember your voice but he knows that you thought handwritten letters were romantic, and he still reads over the ones he meant to send to you but kept avoiding.

He's done with the letters, hasn't written one in a long time. But he just got back from California and your old favorite song is playing on the radio, and he's remembering how in love he is with your memory.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too old for this and I'm sure you'd tease me if we had somehow kept in touch. I don't blame you if you thought I died in Raccoon City, I hope you're still alive and that life is good to you.

You were always important to me, I think you've given me something to cling to over the years. This letter won't find you and I'm not even really sure if I want it to, but I hope you'd still call me if you were able to. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, but I'm happy you never got to see them.

Love, Leon

p.s. I'd say I love you but it feels like something you'd say in person"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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bluehoodiewoozi · 1 day ago

Text

Lies and Butterflies

Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader

Genre: fake dating au; mostly fluff.

Word Count: 19.2k

Warnings: injuries & blood (injury is not explicitly described). joking death threats made between friends. mentions of drinking and alcoholic beverages. lying to parental figures. reader is written as single and desperate and moderately unwise (she’s actually me).

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Your roommate begged you to pretend to date him while his mom is in town for the month. The little crush you’ve had on him will either become your best friend or worst obstacle on this quest.

note: the fact that this fic came out as longer than my master's degree thesis will never not amaze me.

Your friends thought you were a naive fool for moving into Serenity Street 17, apartment 3A. Not because the neighbourhood or building was bad (if anything, they often commented about how cosy it was), but because you signed the rental agreement knowing full well you’d be sharing an apartment with a man you didn’t know.

In your defence, you’d been hesitant to do so. However, after several reassuring comments from the building manager about how your roommate would be a perfectly sweet young gentleman (but mostly the influence of the looming end of your old rental agreement with a remaining budget from hell), you had done the insane thing and signed the agreement.

Fortunately, Joshua Hong, your new roommate, seemed like a true angel at first sight – both visually and metaphorically. Upon your arrival, he’d spent the entire weekend helping you move the heavy boxes and unbox everything (all the while you were trying your hardest to not feel weak at the sight of his gorgeous face and straining biceps). He assured you repeatedly that he’d do the dishes and cook for himself. He sent you off to work every morning with a sweet smile, a wave and a thermos full of hot coffee to start your day.

You’d quickly learn why the neighbourhood aunties called him “Serenity Street’s gentleman”. And at first you thought he truly deserved the title.

That is until you had lived with him for a month and realised he was the dictionary definition of unpredictable. Sure, he wasn’t completely insane and most of the time he was truly the perfect roommate (as well as eye candy), but the moments when he did unleash his inner demons? Even now, many months later, you were still trying to decide if that side of him amused or scared you.

It was to the point where you and Chan, your neighbour from across the hall, had started keeping a shared list of Joshua’s wildest moments (a tradition which several of your other friends in the building soon joined).

For one, there was the time when he decided to perform EXO’s ‘Love Shot’ with a truly unhinged choreography at the building’s monthly drunk karaoke night. The kicker? He didn’t start drinking until after the cover (probably to bury the shame he felt).

Or the time when he mistakenly watered a fake plant for weeks and then, upon realising his mistake, proceeded to gaslight himself and everyone you knew that it had at one point been a real plant and someone must have snuck into the apartment to replace it with an identical fake one (you didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was fooling no one (but Minghao had been more than happy to share the news with him for you )).

There was also, of course, the time when he had a life-sized cardboard cut-out of himself made to decorate the living room and you couldn’t have reminded him enough of how terrifying of a sight it had been at 4 am on your way to the bathroom. To his credit, he moved the cut-out behind Jeonghan’s apartment door a week later to terrify him instead. Jeonghan has since sworn he’d get back at your roommate for it one day (and you dearly hoped he would).

Needless to say, your roommate had you living on the edge of your seat at all times. So it didn’t surprise you much when he knocked on your bedroom door at 11 pm before walking in and throwing himself head-first onto your bed.

Used to his shenanigans but well-aware of his need for attention, you just sighed and lowered the book you had spent all day looking forward to. “What’s up?”

His response was unintelligible, muffled against the sage green sheets.

You waited a moment for him to lift his head. Nothing happened. For a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. So you nudged him with your foot. “Shua?”

With a groan, he leaned upwards, resting on his elbows as he stared ahead and told you, “Do you think I’m too single?”

Amused and confused by the question, you blinked rapidly. “Is that even a thing? I think all single people are equally single, no?”

“I haven’t dated anyone in five years,” he told you.

“And?”

“I haven’t gone on a date in three.”

“So?”

“My mom thinks that’s too long.”

You took mild offence to that as you had been left out on the dry shores of Singleness for well over a decade – if your three-day middle-school playground marriage even counted towards this statistic, that is. If Joshua had been single for too long by his mom’s standards, then you surely must have seemed like a completely hopeless case.

You shook the thought off and tried to seem like a supportive friend (even though your mind and soul were already lost in faraway lands, riding horses with dreamy fictional men that oddly looked like Joshua). “Why does that matter?”

“Because,” he started as if you should know this already, “she wants me to go on a blind date with her friend’s daughter. She wants to discuss it tomorrow over lunch.”

Was it too soon to tell him you sometimes daydreamed of your mom appearing at the door with a handsome young man and demanding you to go on a date with him? Maybe. Was that too desperate? Probably.

“You’re an adult man, Shua,” you told him with a scoff. “Just say no.”

“I can’t say that to my mom!”

“Why not? Because she’d be disappointed and sad?” you guessed, eyeing him with annoyance.

He widened his eyes and all you saw in his brown irises was pure terror mixed with just a hint of frustration. “She’d lecture me!”

“Oh no,” you didn’t even try to feign any kind of an emotion before lifting your book back to your eye level, eager to get back to your reading where men didn’t trouble you with their mommy issues. “Your mom’s nice. You’ll live.”

“You could try to be more empathetic, you know,” he remarked before resting his cheek on the mattress and sighing. “What are you reading anyway? Another one of your historical romances?”

“And what if it is?” you asked.

“My mom would tell you to get off your ass and get an actual boyfriend.”

“Good thing she’s not my mom then. Men are disappointing and I only like the ones written by women.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a disappointment right now?”

There were many words you could use to describe Joshua, but a disappointment? – not one of them. Really, the only disappointing thing about the man in front of you was that he thought your valiant flirting attempts over the past six months had been a funny joke. Even if you thought he could be incredibly frustrating, you were not immune to his charms, and everyone but him seemed to know.

Still, if there was anything you liked more than being the sole object of Joshua’s attention, it was getting on his nerves as much as he did yours.

“Absolutely,” you told him with a straight face but your facade fell fast at his offended grimace. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course you’re not a disappointment. I actually like you.”

Would he pick up the hint (and was it even a hint if you were practically confessing your feelings?) … ?

“I hate you,” he mumbled and buried his face back in the sheets.

… No. The answer was no.

Aside from his wild shenanigans, another thing that frustrated you about your roommate to no end was the fact that he. never. read. his. messages. And yet, when he messaged you, he expected an answer ASAP.

And if you didn’t reply within 2 minutes … ?

Your phone vibrated and rang, his contact photo bright and colourful on your phone screen. You could barely keep back from cursing under your breath before offering your co-workers an apologetic smile and rushing out to the breakroom to answer the call.

You took a deep calming breath before putting on your best customer service-able smile and speaking into the microphone, “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” came the short reply. Was it just you or did he sound winded?

As if he could see you through the radio waves, you theatrically glanced around the building before deadpanning, “At work. Like every Tuesday at 1 pm.”

“Right,” he breathed out after a pause and suddenly you were worried.

The Joshua you knew never hesitated to match your sarcastic remarks with ones of his own. There was rarely any bite to his words but you appreciated that he at least tried to match your energy (or maybe you had unknowingly matched his and you were fated to meet). But this? This hadn’t been a sarcastic remark.

“Are you okay?” you spoke, tone softening. “Did something happen?”

“You know how I had that lunch thing with mom today?” he asked after a sigh.

You nodded before realising he couldn’t actually see you. “Yeah?”

“She brought up her friend’s daughter again and I panicked and–” He cut himself off with a laugh but it sounded anything but joyful. No, it sounded frustrated and disbelieving and like he was about five seconds from a mental breakdown. You found yourself holding your breath as you waited for his laughter to stop. When it did, he sighed again. “Can you come home early?”

The answer was obviously no. You couldn’t just leave your job to cater to your roommate's frenzies. You had made it a point to never ask for any unnecessary time off at all, eager to prove yourself at the office. You had only worked here for five months. Besides, you had goals and a dream and–

“Please?” he added. He sounded so soft, so fragile, so worried.

You squeezed your eyes shut and lied to yourself that your boss wouldn’t hate you if you just told him you had a horrible, perhaps borderline ER-worthy migraine and needed to go home ASAP. Or was that too risky? Would he ask for a doctor’s note? What’s the other option?

“If my boss emails you and asks if our apartment was flooded today, you tell him yes and that you almost drowned,” you finally told him, unable to believe you were about to blatantly lie to your boss, before swiping across your screen to end the call.

“You’re home,” he breathed out when you stepped through the door half an hour later.

You found him sitting on the living room sofa. He was still wearing his best white shirt and if it weren’t for the mess of hair on his head, he would’ve looked like he had just gotten ready to go out.

You shrugged off your jacket. “I would really like an explanation.”

“Yeah,” he sighed and rubbed his face. “Where do I start? Um… Well, my mom’s coming to stay with us for a month.”

Your jaw dropped. “A month?! Why? Did something happen to her house?”

“No,” he seemed almost pained to tell you so. With a gentle grip on your hand, he led you to sit next to him on the sofa. “You know how she was trying to set me up with her friend’s daughter?”

You nodded, raising a brow. “What about it? Was it, like, an ex or something?”

“Well, no, but,” he took a deep breath and turned to stare at the wall, eyes wide as if he was expecting something to crash as he spoke, “I might have panicked and said something bad.”

“Such as?” you urged, leaning closer.

Getting red in the face, he really looked like the words he needed had wedged themselves in his throat and were rebelling, refusing to come out. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to make even a single sound, but you still heard nothing.

Your patience was running thinner by the second. “Joshua, I lied to my boss because of you. Spit it out or, I swear to god, I will make that lie a reality and drown you in the bathtub.”

The threat seemed to motivate him plenty. He let out a soft whine before blurting, “I told her I can’t go on a date with Mary because we’re dating.”

This man never failed to surprise, scare and worry you. And this time you were scared for the both of you. “You told her what?! We?! As in you and me?!”

“I’m sorry,” he immediately dropped to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with desperate and terrified sparkling doe eyes. “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t want to make her feel bad and I panicked and I lied and I swear I’ll make it up to you! Whatever you want! Anything. I am so, so sorry.”

You didn’t even have the words to say. Frozen in your seat, you stared at him, trying your hardest to get your brain to reset so you could discover you simply had fallen asleep at your desk and this was all a dream. Was it a dream or was it a nightmare? You’d decide later.

When you hadn’t responded for nearly a minute, Joshua gently nudged your hand. “Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry, okay?”

But when you still remained silent without even as much as moving your eyes, he quickly added, “I’ll just fess up, yeah? I’ll tell her I panicked and lied and I’ll go on that date. Just please don’t be mad at me, okay?”

You held your hand up to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I need a moment.”

“Yeah…” He breathed in relief before nodding and agreeing, “Yeah. Anything you want. I’ll…I can… Do you want water? Tea? I could make cocoa.”

“Just water’s fine,” you told him almost robotically as you stared into space, rubbing your temples as if that would somehow make it easier to process the absolutely bizarre situation you had found yourself in because, no, unfortunately (or fortunately?) this was not a dream. This was your reality.

As he scurried over to the kitchen, you tried to wrap your mind around … well, everything.

It felt like a cruel joke. All these months of pining after your handsome roommate, making him heart-shaped toast and pancakes, fixing his shirt collar as he prepared to leave for work, practically flat-out confessing to him – and here he was, practically throwing himself at you.

But none of it was real. He wasn’t actually into you. It was just a panicked reaction. He’d just thought of the first age-appropriate woman that came to his mind – it was only you because you were roommates and spent so much time together. There were no feelings involved on his end.

But on yours? You willed your heart to stop fluttering and pounding and threatening to beat out of your chest at the mere idea of dating Joshua Hong.

“Here,” he spoke softly as he placed a cold glass of water into your hand and took his seat next to you. He watched for a while as you took a miniscule sip and continued staring into nothingness, lost in your thoughts. He hesitated to speak. “I really am sorry. I just wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared and–”

“I seemed like a safer option than Mary?” you finished for him, giving him a knowing look. “C’mon, is she really that bad?”

No, you’re just that much better is what you wished he’d say. Then you’d have at least something to hold onto.

Joshua offered a half-hearted smile. “Mom said Mary is really into haunted buildings and ghost hunting, so…”

Did that make you much better than her? Very debatable. But you were willing to take just about anything reminiscent of a win.

“Sounds dreadful,” you replied, matching his smile. “So what happens now?”

“Well,” he seemed hesitant all over again, as if no progress had been made at all. He quickly forced himself out of that headspace and met your eyes, “I could call my mom and tell her I lied…”

You sensed an ‘or’. Raising an eyebrow, you silently asked him to finish the thought.

He took a stuttering breath before grimacing. “Or we go on with the lie and pretend to date for a while.”

Option B is what your heart shouted. Please pick option B, even if it’s all a lie.

“A while being…?” you forced yourself to nitpick instead of immediately jumping into his arms and agreeing.

He kissed his teeth. “A month-ish.”

“A month?!”

“Mom didn’t fully, entirely, really believe me,” Joshua supplied with an apologetic look, “so I bluffed a little and she said she’d come stay with us for a while to see it for herself and… I sort of agreed to let her stay a month.”

A month of (fake) dating Joshua Hong, your hot roommate, the very subject of your daydreams? You weren’t sure whether you wanted to scream in joy or cry in despair.

“Okay,” you breathed out and gulped. “We can– We can do a month… right?”

“Right.” He didn’t seem any more sure of than you.

“How long ‘til she comes here?”

“Two days.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

[DAY 1, FRIDAY]

Having read and watched a fair share of romantic comedies, you were adamant that there was no need for a ‘fake dating contract’. You and Joshua were roommates and good friends; surely just a verbal agreement of boundaries would suffice. You’d just tell him your boundaries and he’d tell you yours.

In an ideal world, that is.

But in the real world, there was a knock on the door before you could even begin to whisper about the idea of boundaries.

While sharing a startled look with you, Joshua crept towards the door and peeked through peephole.

“It’s her,” he breathed out and offered you one last grimace before opening the door. His voice went from tormented to overjoyed so fast you felt it give you a whiplash, “Mom! Hi! Let me help with your suitcase.”

Showtime (except this was not a theatre, and you didn’t have even the semblance of a script to play out, and you sucked at improv). Putting on your best smile, you stood up just as they entered the living room.

“There she is!” his mother called out and rushed over to give you a warm hug. “Look at you! As good-looking as always!”

Your cheeks felt a little warm at that. “You look great too!”

“Oh, I know,” she joked and gave your shoulder a friendly pat. Then her friendly expression morphed into something more sinister. “So, dating, huh?”

If your cheeks had felt warm before, they were positively burning now. You tried to find your voice again, even offered a look to Joshua who could only respond with an equally nervous wide-eyed look. Finally, you cleared your throat and answered, “Yeah. We’re still kind of getting used to it ourselves.”

“I always knew you two would end up together,” she gushed, smiling ear to ear and winking at you between sentences. “Took you a while though. I was already starting to worry about my Joshua.”

“Yeah,” you heard him mumble, “me too.”

“Will you join us for dinner?” you asked her, trying to steer the topic away from the inevitable chit-chat about your almost-non-existent relationship.

She hummed in thought – a habit Joshua must have picked up from her, you realised – and nodded as she looked around the living room. “Of course. Let me just get settled in and put on more comfortable clothes. Where can I unpack?”

Your “boyfriend” and you shared a wide-eyed look. This is why you never did improv!

“You can have my room,” Joshua finally spoke all the while still having that very same panicked expression. “I’ll get it set up real quick.”

His mother paused, confused (and was that a glint of suspicion in her eyes?). “You don’t sleep together?”

You could’ve fried an egg on your cheeks with how hot they felt. “Oh, we–”

“Like she said,” Joshua interrupted, forcing a smile that almost looked convincing, “we’re still kind of settling into this whole relationship thing. We’re taking it slow.”

“I’m glad to give you a push in the right direction,” she told him with a chuckle. “You can’t leave someone like (Y/n) just waiting. She’ll get bored of you, and then what?”

He laughed shortly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Like always.”

He nodded before tugging on the crook of your elbow to drag you with him. “Sweetie, why don’t you come help me set up mom’s room?”

You thanked the heavens he had enough mental capacity to not leave you alone with his mom. “Of course!”

“Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen, yeah?” Joshua told his mom as he reached to pick up her suitcase with his free hand, his left one still holding onto you like you were his lifeline. “Coffee, tea, a snack – anything.”

She replied with a smile and continued her (no doubt thorough) tour of your apartment.

Once you were in his room, he closed the door so that it was just a bit ajar as to not seem suspicious and turned to you with a look of terror. His whispers were so loud and harsh that you wondered if there was any point in pretending otherwise as he asked, “What do we do?”

“We clean your room and make your mom feel at home,” you suggested, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

Joshua gave you a look that said he was holding back the urge to call you dumb. “I meant us. She’s taking my bed. Where will I sleep? I can’t sleep on the sofa – she’ll figure out we’re lying.”

Oh. Yeah, that was an unwelcome problem. Mostly because the only viable solution you could think of involved Joshua sleeping in your room and you not getting any sleep because he’d be so close to you. What if you fell asleep and talked in your sleep, confessing your everlasting love? Worse!: what if you had a dirty dream about him – one involving his gorgeous biceps and soft lips and– dear god, you’d never be able to look him in the eyes again. Hell, you probably wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as him.

Joshua stared at you in silence, expecting a solution. Before you could offer one though, he shut it down with a “I’m not sneaking out to sleep on Chan’s pull-out couch either.”

Damn it.

“Then there’s only one solution,” you whispered back, unable to believe your own words. “We’ll have to share my room.”

“There’s no room for another mattress there.”

It’s not like either of you even knew where to find a spare mattress. But you didn’t tell him that. And the look in his eyes said you didn’t have to because he knew it just the same and that left only one solution.

“We can share my bed, but if you touch my teddy bear, I’ll make sure you go missing under mysterious circumstances,” you told him and left the room to get some clean sheets for the bed (and calm your heart).

The rest of a day went by in a daze of terrible half-believable lies that just kept elaborating at their own accord because of course she couldn’t be satisfied with just a simple answer. No, she had to ask questions to clarify, as if she was a detective trying to figure out a suspect’s background.

And so you bluffed and lied and shared panicked looks with Joshua. Your collaborations added up to a decent backstory – at least that’s what you thought because at least your lies were not completely out of the realm of reality.

Who confessed first? You both did, in a moment of drunken chaos at Seungcheol’s housewarming party (you failed to mention there was no alcohol provided at said party).

Where was your first date? A picnic at the park not too far from your home just a few short months ago (and she didn’t need to know it was an outing with all of your neighbours – something not Joshua but Jihoon had organised to help the people in the building become closer).

What was your first kiss like? You had kissed him under the streetlights when he walked you home from work because you’d be damned if you let a man make the first move (in Joshua’s opinion, this was the most obvious lie of all but he chose not to argue because the other option was to look his mother in the eyes and tell her he’d made the first move to kiss somebody on the mouth).

The little lies added up and by the end of the day, you weren’t entirely sure where one started or another ended. Hell, you were pretty certain you wouldn’t remember most of them the next day.

But that wasn’t the hard part – not the real hard part anyway. No, the real problem was the evernearing night. Between the improv performance of your life and the general feeling of butterflies, you hadn’t had any time to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to share a bed with your handsome, hot, absolutely amazing roommate under the guise of being his girlfriend.

And now the reality was looming.

His mother was the first to head to bed, leaving you and Joshua to stare at each other in a relieved silence across the dining table as she went about her bedtime routine. Neither you or Joshua dared to move to head to sleep next. Neither of you wanted to make the first move.

Sensing you were faced with a similar dilemma, he finally suggested, “We could watch a movie.”

“We’ll have to go to bed eventually,” you told him with a sigh. “We can’t spend the whole night watching TV.”

His silence told you he thought otherwise.

And you were in no mood to make the first move or argue about pillow barriers and teddy bears. So, begrudgingly, you dragged yourself over to the sofa and turned on the TV.

He joined you soon after, two cans of soda in hand. He handed one – already opened – to you as you flipped through the movie selection.

“You know, sugar really isn’t good for you before bed,” you remarked offhandedly. “Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

He just scoffed and opened his can with a pop and a fizzle. “Good thing we’re watching a movie and not sleeping then.”

“Rom-com or action?”

“Action,” he answered a little too fast before sipping his drink as if to distract himself.

“We could watch Transformers,” you half-joked. “It’s got a good runtime.”

“Might as well,” he sighed and made himself comfortable as you clicked on the title.

As you pulled a cushion into your lap for optimal comfort, Joshua remained sitting far from you. It was funny, really – it seemed that he was sitting further from you as your “boyfriend” than he ever had as just your roommate.

You wanted to blame the movie for how silent the living room had become. Only Optimus Prime’s voice sounded in the apartment, and even that was quiet to not disturb your guest’s sleep. But the reality was that something had shifted between you. You were officially stuck in an arrangement that both benefited and ruined you, and the reality was sinking in fast.

Now there was no chance to take back the lies and the faking. The only option was to keep going and keep up with your elaborate plan to trick the sweetest woman you knew, all because your roommate didn’t want to date some girl called Mary and you had agreed to be his cover because you were infatuated with him.

How does one process this situation? Where do you go from here? Can you do this for a month without thinking too hard about it? And what happens when the month is up?

“Hey,” Joshua’s soft voice startled you from your tortured thoughts. You turned to find him watching you with a somewhat wistful smile. “You did great today, you know?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You chuckled but it sounded pained even to your own ears. “I was just being a good girlfriend.”

He snorted a laugh. “You can stop acting. I’m pretty sure she’s asleep by now. It’s okay. ”

“How do you know if she’s asleep?” you whispered, eyeing his – no, her – bedroom door. “Would suck to get caught lying on the very first night.”

Joshua’s smile looked a little more real now, almost reaching his eyes as he still watched you like you were a beloved family puppy who had learnt a new trick. “She snores pretty loud.”

Tense in your seat, still eyeing the door, you listened and waited. Before long, you discovered he was right. There it was, a soft snore accompanying Bumblebee’s action scene. Closing your eyes, you breathed out in relief and relaxed into the plush fabric of the sofa.

“Do you think she bought it?” you wondered.

“If she didn’t, we’ll just have to work harder tomorrow,” he replied before reaching over to brush your hair off your face.

You willed the butterflies to just go to sleep already and let you be. They remained relentless and you could only pray Joshua wouldn’t notice how flustered his touch made you feel.

“We just have to do this for another 29 days,” you said to distract yourself. “It’ll be fine.”

Did he have to keep stroking your cheek so gently? How much hair did you even have stuck on your face? Maybe you were hallucinating and he wasn’t touching you at all – that seemed almost plausible.

“We’ll be fine,” he whispered and he sounded to be closer now. His warm breath brushed against your temple. Maybe you weren’t entirely out of your mind yet. “It’s just a month.”

“Just a month.”

You weren’t yet sure whether you wished it would last less or more.

[DAY 2, SATURDAY]

Three things had greeted you when you woke up: the smell of fresh coffee, the brightest sun you had ever had the displeasure of waking under, and someone’s arm around your waist. You almost hadn’t cared whose arm it was because it was holding you to a warm body, safe from the evils of the morning chill.

Begrudgingly, you had eventually opened your eyes and glanced around. You had fallen asleep on the sofa instead of your bed – a work-around for last night’s problem if you’d ever seen one, even if it was horrible for your back. And the arm belonged to none other than your roommate who looked like an angel as he slept, resting his head on your shoulder…

“And how is any of that my problem?” Chan yawned over his cup of coffee as he watched you pace around his kitchen ten minutes later. He didn’t really have any plans anyway but it’s not like he enjoyed having neighbours march into his apartment to rant about their love lives (even if it was great material for the building’s gossip group chat which he would no doubt update as soon as you’d leave).

You offered him a glare. “You’re supposed to be a supportive friend.”

“You must have me mixed up with someone,” he deadpanned and took a sip of his hot drink. “What’s so bad about waking up next to him anyway? It’s not like you’ve never shared a bed before.”

Your face felt like it was burning at his words. “How do you even know that?”

Unimpressed, he raised a brow. “You did the same thing the last time it happened – ran in screaming and crying and giggling like a schoolkid.” He paused, narrowing his eyes a little as if a thought was occurring before adding, “You actually do this a lot. It’s a little concerning.”

“Whatever,” you groaned and slumped in the bar stool across the counter from him. “What do I do?”

“Seize the day and appreciate the fact that you’re dating your crush?”

“Fake dating,” you corrected him with a mild glare. And you had only revealed so much to him because he was your best friend and confidant (and because you had made him swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell anyone else).

Chan scoffed a laugh. “He might be faking but there’s no way you are. You suck at improv. Just embrace it and go with the flow.”

You stared at him. Were all your friends this unhelpful or was this just a trait unique to Lee Chan?

“Why do I even come to you for advice?” you thought out loud. “It’s not like you can even get a date yourself.”

He sputtered and coughed up the sip of coffee he had unfortunately taken just seconds before. His ears turned red. “At least I’m trying.”

“So am I!” you whined. “Come on, give me something to work with. I’m in the middle of a crisis.”

“All of which is self-inflicted.”

“I hate you.”

“Maybe, but you love Joshua,” he teased, winked, and narrowly dodged the apple you threw at his head. He laughed heartily before taking another sip of his coffee. “I’m serious though. You might as well take advantage of your arrangement. Just forget about the fake part and just think of yourself as his girlfriend. I’m sure he won’t complain about your authenticity.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Well, then take advantage some other way,” he suggested, appearing a little frustrated (which was fair; you had, in fact, interrupted his much needed me-time and breakfast for one). “What are you getting out of this arrangement anyways? He gets his mom off his back, and you? Is getting to live out your late-night fantasies the only perk?”

You stared at him. For a moment, he feared you were getting ready to hurl another fruit at his head. But then, instead of reaching for an apple, you slumped in your seat and let out a curious noise. “Huh.”

“Huh?” he mimicked, still tense in case it was a fake-out and you were going to throw something at him regardless.

“You’re right,” you said and he worried even more.

He glanced towards the nearest door from the corner of his eye, wondering if it was close enough for a safe escape. You never said Chan was right – that just wasn’t a thing. It never happened. He had a bigger chance of getting struck by lightning than to hear you say those two words. Chan was fearing for his life.

“I’m right?” he echoed hesitantly.

“I’m getting nothing out of this arrangement,” you said with a scoff of disbelief. “That little scammer! I’m out here improv-ing my ass off to please his mother and all I get in return is daydream material? Screw that!”

Across from you, Chan still wasn’t sure if this was a healthy development or if he should call Jeonghan for back-up. Regardless, he decided it was safer to just play along. He let out an empathetic cheer and agreed, “Screw it! Yeah! He’s too nice to say no anyways.”

“I’m gonna make him pay!” you decided and marched out of his apartment.

The moment you were out of his sight, Chan breathed out a sigh of relief.

But you? You froze in the hallway. You just had to cross the hall and demand your due payment. But what would you even ask for?

As your mind raced for ideas – a new laptop? a new wardrobe? –, the door of your apartment opened. As if you were cursed, Joshua’s head peeked out.

“Oh,” he spoke and his voice was so soft and welcoming that you almost convinced yourself you couldn’t take advantage of him any more than you already were, “there you are! We were starting to worry.”

“Worry?” you parroted dumbly.

“Yeah,” he laughed and reached out a hand as if to invite you in – as if your name wasn’t on the lease right next to his –, “we were about to have breakfast. Mom made french toast.”

“Oh.” You silently wondered what had happened to the woman you had been two minutes ago in Chan’s apartment. The spine you had grown seemed to have disappeared as soon as Joshua flashed you a smile. You were capital S Screwed.

Deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Joshua staring at you, confused and puzzled, his hand still outstretched for you to take. He cleared his throat to call your attention and forced his smile to brighten as he wriggled his fingers as if to entice you. You sighed quietly before faking a smile and taking his hand, finally letting him pull you to the kitchen.

“There you are,” his mother called out the moment she saw you. She was already at the table, sipping her tea and eyeing the fresh toast. “We were just beginning to wonder where you had gone.”

“Yeah,” Joshua agreed before frowning at you as he pulled a chair out for you to sit, “where did you go?”

What would be a convincing lie? A half-truth – at least that’s what Joshua himself had once told you in a drunken giggle fit.

You took a deep breath and lied through your teeth, “I remembered I promised to help Chan with something.”

“Chan?” She looked at you and there was an odd glint of something in her eyes. Amusement? Judgement? Suspicion. That’s what it was – it was clear cut suspicion and you had to shake it off before she caught onto your plan.

“Our neighbour from across the hall,” Joshua said quickly. Too quickly. You thought he must have recognised that glint in her eyes as well. “He and (Y/n) get along great.”

She hummed thoughtfully, giving you one last glance before declaring, “Well, let’s eat before it all gets cold, kids.”

[DAY 3, SUNDAY]

You had managed to avoid this twice already. This being the act of sharing a bed with the very man who had been the main character of your beautiful love-struck dreams for the past 7 months.

The first time had been a lucky break – falling asleep on the sofa with a Transformers movie playing in the background. It had been believable enough.

The second time – last night –, had been less of a lucky break and more of a Joshua scheme. Whether it was because he couldn’t fathom the idea of sharing even a room with you (hurtful, but valid) or because he was afraid you’d be uncomfortable (absolutely valid), he had gone to hang out with his friend Jeonghan and the newest inhabitant of the building Choi Seungcheol and didn’t return until noon. And even now he was still hungover from their late-night activities.

But this time? It seemed that three was not a magic number after all.

Dressed in your least revealing pyjamas, you stood next to Joshua, collectively staring at the twin bed in the corner of your room.

The silence was deafening and suffocating you. And the butterflies in your stomach seemed to have doubled since this arrangement started.

“Do you think it’s too late to call Jihoon and ask for a spare mattress?” you wondered out loud without really meaning to.

You wanted to slap a hand over your own mouth – all these months of pining but when the opportunity is served to you on a silver platter, you’re a coward. What was it that Mina had called this?

Self-sabotage? Sounds about right.

Joshua glanced at the time on his phone before sighing and looking at the bed again. “It’s already past midnight. And you have work at 8.”

“Oh.”

“Whatever,” he sighed, blinking his eyes closed and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take the window side. You take the wall side.”

Any love-blind or anxious thoughts jumped right out your third floor windows. Why did you even have a crush on this man who cared so little for your sleep? Making you sleep against the wall? When his shoulders were almost as wide as your whole bed?

To quote the wise words of Lee Jihoon: Joshua? A gentleman, my ass!

You scoffed. “No way! Last time I let you do that, you almost squashed me.”

Frowning, he shushed you and pointed at the door. “My mom’s next door.”

You rolled your eyes and continued in a whisper – because unlike him, you were considerate of your friends’ feelings and needs –, “I’m not sleeping against the wall.”

“Fine,” he agreed with a soft scoff of disbelief, his eyes widening, “I’ll sleep against the wall.”

“And what? Push me off my own bed?”

He stared at you like you had grown a third head. But really he couldn’t argue – he knew he couldn’t because you had a perfectly valid point. And besides, he had lived with you long enough to know there was no winning against you.

“Then what do you suggest?” he asked, defeated.

No ideas were popping up. You stayed quiet.

After a few minutes of silence, you relented and suggested, “... Rock paper scissors?”

“You didn’t like either idea,” he reminded you.

“Just pick a side to defend. Whatever. I’m voting I get the window side.”

“But you didn’t want–”

“I want the window side,” you insisted half-heartedly but you both knew you were lying. There was no winning for you – not with a bed this size.

“Why did I choose you?” he thought out loud as he lifted his hand in the starting position.

You almost scoffed at his words because it’s not like he actually had any other choices anyway. You were the only one crazy enough to agree to his scheme. Joshua had exactly two partners in crime and you doubted Jeonghan would have agreed to pretend to be Joshua’s boyfriend for a month. So, really, you were his one and only option.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot,” you softly counted in unison.

Your rock was swiftly beaten by his paper. You weren’t sure why that annoyed you – you were on the losing end of the bet either way.

Joshua stepped back and grandly gestured towards the bed with a sarcastic smile, “My love.”

“I hate you,” you told him with a groan and got in the bed before pulling yourself to the side against the wall. You already knew this would be a miserable night.

Your roommate chuckled and followed suit, settling on his own side. Immediately, you regretted getting in the bed with him. Joshua took up more than half of the bed, easily and even when he was trying to be considerate, rolling to his side to take up less space, he was too close for comfort.

Perhaps, you wondered, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you got out right now and pulled an all-nighter on a report you desperately needed to work on before the morning (the report being your Netflix catalogue; Bridgerton was calling your name).

But before you could even open your mouth to lie, Joshua pulled the blanket up to your neck, tucking you in with a gentle smile. “We can switch tomorrow, if you want. Just get some sleep now. You have an early day.”

As he closed your eyes and subconsciously leaned closer to you, you wondered if it would be so hard to take advantage of the situation after all and pretend it’s real. Would it really hurt to just forget about the ‘fake’ part of your fake dating plan and just… lean a little closer and rest your head on his pillow instead of your own?

His hand was so close to yours, fingers just inches from touching.

What would happen if you just reached out and wrapped your hand around his? What would happen if you pressed a single affectionate kiss to his knuckles?

Would he smile in his sleep?

Or would he be appalled?

You shook the thoughts out of your head and squeezed your eyes shut. This was going to be a long night.

[DAY 4, MONDAY]

In your months of living with Joshua, you had shared more than a few breakfasts. Hungover, sick, or even after a foul fight over who’s turn it had been to take out the trash – none of those breakfasts had been nearly as unpalatable as this one.

You could hardly look at him from across the table. Mortified. Ashamed. Certain he wouldn’t even want to look at you. You avoided his eyes and he avoided yours as his mother fussed about and piled waffles upon waffles onto your plates.

It might have been rude to not listen to your guest’s morning rambles about the weather and the news channel, but you were still too caught-up in your embarrassment to pay her any kind of attention.

You knew you shouldn’t have fallen asleep. You should’ve ignored the fluffy sheep and refused the offers of the Sandman. You really should have because you hadn’t and now you were forced to live the knowledge that Joshua had to gently shake you awake from his spot underneath you.

From UNDERNEATH you. Meaning you had fallen asleep on top of your very handsome roommate.

And now you couldn’t even look him in the eyes again.

“Are you kids alright?” his mother wondered all of a sudden and a jolt of fear went through you.

On instinct and instinct alone, your head snapped to share a look with your “boyfriend”. Remembering the morning incident, you immediately looked away again and feigned nonchalance even as your cheeks and ears burned (out of the corner of your eye, you saw him do the same – there went the small chance that he had thought nothing of it).

“Yeah, why?” Joshua replied after clearing his throat.

“You’re usually not this quiet,” she said and you found her looking at you with concern. “Did something happen? Did you two fight?”

“What? No!” you protested without really meaning to. In your head, you reminded yourself that it was just a reflex and the desperate need to fulfil your part of the deal. “We’re completely fine.”

“Are you?” she still worried, hands on her hips as she took turns looking at the two of you. “Be honest: is me being here a problem? You seem so awkward, like even being in the same room is a chore. Did you fight because I came to stay here?”

“No, no,” you and Joshua protested in unison.

You shared another look, forgetting your embarrassment now that your plan was in jeopardy.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I really didn’t want to cause you problems. If I’ve done something to upset either of you–”

“Mom,” Joshua assured her with a gentle smile that didn’t look entirely genuine, “(Y/n) and I are fine. We’re just…”

“Stressed from work,” you supplied when he trailed off in thought. “You know how it is.”

She didn’t fully seem to buy it, still eyeing the both of you with a mix of suspicion and worry. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” She scoffed as if she had realised the gravity of her words and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What am I even saying? You wouldn’t lie to me.”

As if your morning couldn’t get any worse.

“We should go get ready for work, honey,” Joshua suddenly excused himself and you, pulling you up by the crook of your elbow. “Wouldn’t want you to be late to work with all those big projects you have.”

You wondered what big projects he was talking about. Your higher-ups barely even allowed you to proofread the company documents and fix typos. But the look in his eyes said he needed you to play along.

“Right, right,” you sighed and went with him, offering his mother one last sweet smile before the bedroom door shut behind you and Joshua practically trapped you against it.

“She’s onto us,” he told you quietly, all the while still avoiding your eyes. “She’s onto us and she’s probably already setting up a blind date with that Maria-girl.”

“Wasn’t it Mary?” you wondered.

Joshua replied with a half-hearted glare and a sigh. “We need to fix this.”

“But how?” You crossed your arms over your chest, mostly to convince yourself that there was enough space between your and his body to not have the butterflies go absolutely wild. “We just, what, kiss and make up?”

His eyes lit up and you feared for your life. “You’re a genius!”

“Shua, I was being sarcastic.”

He didn’t even seem to hear your protests. “If we kiss, she has no reason to suspect we’re not together. And she’ll be off our backs. It’s perfect.”

The things you would’ve done to kiss Joshua Hong and his beautiful, plump lips…

Joshua must have mistaken your eager expression for one of dismay or maybe fear because his eyes widened. He lifted his hands in a way that just screamed ‘I was just kidding, please don’t hit me’ before quickly adding, “Not that I want to kiss you – I’m sure you’re a great kisser. We don’t have to kiss though. Because–”

“Because we’re friends,” you finished for him with a smile that you hoped wouldn’t betray your disappointment, “and it would make things awkward, right?”

“Right,” he breathed out and visibly relaxing – slumping even – in front of you. “I’m sorry I even suggested that. It’s dumb. You’re my friend – you shouldn’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to just because of a stupid scheme to please my mom.”

If you don’t want to. If you don’t want to. You almost scoffed in his face – he had no idea what he was saying.

You wondered what was the formal and correct way to inform your roommate that you had the biggest, fattest, most ridiculous crush on him and would sell your left kidney for one kiss – if only he wanted to kiss you back.

“Well, we have to convince her somehow, right?” you pointed out as you prepared to start doing your hair. “I doubt a hug will make her less suspicious.”

Joshua chuckled. “You noticed it too?”

“She was acting like she expected us to slip up and confess at any moment,” you reminded him with a quirk of your brow, eyeing him through the mirror. “What did she say? ‘You wouldn’t lie to me’? Oddly specific, no?”

“We’re so screwed if we don’t figure something out,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair (it took you great strength to resist the urge to reach over and give his fluffy utter mess of dark hair a pat as well).

You schooled your expression, willing the beginnings of a blush to go away, as you suggested, “We could still do something kiss-related, you know. Just this once, to get her off our backs.”

“I’m not kissing you,” he argued instantly, ears reddening.

Why was he so god-damn difficult? Why did he have to go on an anxious mental tangent about the wrongs of kissing one’s roommate? Why couldn’t he just kiss you already?! It was his idea anyway!

You almost rolled your eyes as you came up with an alternative, “I could kiss you on the cheek when I leave. Not as good as a kiss but–”

“That could work.”

“Okay, great, we’ve figured it out,” you told him with a chuckle and gently pushed him towards the door. “Now, get out. You haven’t dated me long enough to earn the privilege of seeing me naked yet.”

He snorted a laugh at that – you were half sure it was because he had, in fact, at one point seen you naked, under very different and less than ideal circumstances involving one too many shots of Bacardi – before leaving you to your thoughts and doubts and the knowledge that your roommate did not want to kiss you at all.

[DAY 7, THURSDAY]

While there was an extensive list of reasons why Joshua Hong was the most infuriating man you had ever met (and you meant this very affectionately, which your friends found hilarious), there was an equally extensive list of reasons why Joshua was the ideal man.

His looks were definitely on the list – his doe-like brown eyes, his little bird’s nest of morning hair, his bright smiles to name some of the points.

But it wasn’t all that superficial. You loved his sense of humour. You liked his unlimited patience and kindness.

Most of all, you loved his cooking.

On most evenings, you got home from work and found your roommate beginning to prepare dinner. He’d offer you a wide smile and ask if his plan of tomato rigatoni suited your tastes. And then he’d just let you rant about your day as he cooked, a drink in your hand.

This tradition had been briefly broken by Joshua’s mother taking over kitchen duties. She felt it was only fair as she was staying in your apartment for free for such a prolonged time. But as much as you loved her food (which almost rivalled Joshua’s), you just missed your daily gossip sessions.

So, when you got home from work and found your roommate, friend, and fake boyfriend extraordinaire sorting through ingredients on the kitchen counter, you almost cried of joy. You had so many tales to share and you were eager to listen to his stories as well (your last gossip session had ended on a cliffhanger on his part).

“You’re cooking?” you asked him, leaning over to look at the ingredients, before even remembering that was not how you were meant to greet someone.

Joshua jumped at voice before resting a hand on his chest and taking a deep breath. “Oh my god…”

“Did I scare you?” you laughed at him and offered an apologetic expression when he turned to glare at you. “So, what are you cooking?”

“I was going to just make some vegetable soup,” he informed you with a tired chuckle. “Mom’s feeling a little under the weather so…”

You couldn’t help but melt at the implications. The grand scheme of fake dating aside, Joshua was a great son to his mother. Yet another reason to add to your ever-growing list.

And perhaps it was the melting of your heart that affected your brain activity because the next thing you knew you were doing the unthinkable.

“Can I help somehow?” you asked him.

Even Joshua was startled by your question. And you soon realised why.

In disbelief, you scoffed. “C’mon, I’ve helped you before.”

“Have you?” His head tilted to the side in a manner resembling a curious cat but his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You never offer to help cook. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you use a pan.”

“Shush,” you told him and gave him a gentle slap on the bicep. “What do you need me to do?”

Looking at the various vegetables on the counter, he puffed his cheeks out in thought. Then he shrugged. “You could help with the potatoes.”

“What do I do with them?”

He sighed theatrically. “This is why I never let you help.”

“Hey!”

“Just peel and cut them into pieces, okay?” he finally instructed with a laugh that suggested he did not have a lot of faith in your ability to do so. “Not too small though.”

“I know how to cut potatoes, Shua,” you told him as you got out a knife and cutting board. “I’m a big girl.”

When he offered you another suspicious and perhaps worried glance, you decided it was time to prove a point. He didn’t think you could peel and cut a potato into perfect pieces for a soup? You were going to prove him wrong and you were going to make him eat his words.

It started out great. The first potato was a breeze, peeled and cut in record time. The second and third potato were a joy to turn into smaller chunks and chuck into the bowl Joshua had provided for you. While working on the fourth potato, you started sharing gossip from work and it didn’t affect your task at all.

For a moment you were certain Joshua would regret doubting you. You were sure there was no way you were going to mess this up and make him question your cooking abilities ever again.

That is until you reached the last potato. It was two chops in when you let out a whimper, dropped the knife and cradled your hand to your chest.

Joshua’s head snapped up immediately. Eyes widening in concern, he rushed to your side. “Are you bleeding?”

“Yeah,” you sighed and reached for a towel to dry the blood. “It’s no big deal though, so don’t worry. I’ll g0 find some band-aids and–”

“Don’t get any blood on the potatoes,” he warned with a serious frown and your jaw dropped.

You smacked him with your good hand when his scowl turned into a mischievous smile.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he laughed and left the room. He returned just moments later with the first-aid kit. “Come here, silly. Let’s get that fixed up.”

When he reached for your injured hand, you snorted out a laugh. “You know, I can put the band-aid on by myself.”

“Who knows,” he teased all the while focusing on your wound, “maybe you’d mess that up as well.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” you told him but made no move to escape from your handsome nurse.

Leaning ridiculously close to you, he gently applied the band-aid. When you let out a soft hiss at the pain (mostly just to mess with him), he pouted and pressed a soft kiss to the spot. “That better?”

It was just your luck that his mother decided to come for a glass of water at that exact moment. She let out a soft gasp of delight before feigning nonchalance when your heads snapped to look at her.

Clearing his throat, Joshua immediately leaned away, straightened up, and offered her a taut smile.

“Don’t mind me, lovebirds,” she spoke in a theatrical whisper and rushed over to the cupboard to get a glass. “I’m not even here.”

You fought a grimace and turned back to your cutting board. The potato wasn’t going to cut itself and the pot of broth was already calling its name.

“You’re making soup?” she wondered and lifted a glass of water to her lips, barely even bothering to hide a smile. “It smells delicious.”

Joshua chuckled. “It will be, once (Y/n) finishes the potatoes and we add them in.”

Her jaw dropped and she lowered her glass of water.

“Joshua!”

Her voice could only be described as the dictionary definition of the tone of a mother scolding her children for getting into trouble. It sent a shiver of fear down your spine until you realised it wasn’t you she was yelling at.

Your roommate offered you a panicked look before turning to look at his mother, offering her a tight-lipped, fearful smile. “Yes?”

“You’re not actually going to make your girlfriend cook when she’s injured like this, right?!” she demanded to know, her brows furrowed into a furious frown. “She’s bleeding!”

“She’s fine,” Joshua started to argue but his voice trailed lower and lower with every syllable until it faded into silence and his gaze dropped to the floor in shame.

She glared at him and reached to drag you away from the counter by the sleeve of your blouse. “Come on, sweetheart. You can come watch a movie with me while Joshua thinks about what he’s done.”

As you made your escape from the heat of the kitchen, you glanced over your shoulder to find Joshua looking at you with a dramatic grimace. You replied with a bright smile of victory and a playful wave before joining his mother in watching Mamma Mia.

[DAY 12, TUESDAY]

As far as ways to throw your roommate’s mom off your trail go, cheek kisses were good enough for the first couple of days. You quite grew to like them and, judging by the pinks of his ears and cheeks, so did Joshua. Every morning, you’d leave for work with a kiss to his cheek, a sweet smile and prep to your steps.

Then, of course, his mother made an off-hand comment about how it seems that Joshua never kisses you and he, of course, took that as a challenge. So, he began sending you off with forehead kisses and warm hugs. You like those even more, honestly.

But you both knew you were delaying the inevitable. Eventually, the cheek and forehead kisses would not be enough proof of your relationship. Paired with no late-evening love-drunk giggles and movie night cuddles, the morning kisses were barely enough to convince anyone and eventually you’d have to up your game.

You had simply hoped you’d have more time to come to terms with the fact before it happened.

“Mom’s starting to get suspicious again,” Joshua simply stated in a hushed tone as he helped you put on your coat.

Your heart dropped at the mention. When you turned to look at him, he was looking at everything but your eyes. “Is she asking questions again?”

“She told me to stop eating so much garlic bread because it would make my breath stink,” he said while staring at the fake plant sat on the shoe rack. “That feels like a hint.”

“Well, you don’t want to kiss me, so,” you pointed out with a shrug and shook your scarf to unravel it. “Just tell her it’s my breath that’s bad.”

“No way. Everybody knows your breath smells like roses and vanilla,” he joked and you choked on a laugh. He took your scarf from you and untangled a knot in the middle.

With nothing to do but stare at him, you came up with a mutually beneficial idea. “We could just fake it.”

“How do you fake a kiss?” he wondered, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what they do in movies? We just have to get the angle right.”

“How does that work?”

It turns out it’s hard to answer any questions when your crush is standing in your personal space – so close that you could smell his shampoo and conditioner. Your brain stalled, blanked and desperately tried to restart all necessary systems while you stared at him.

“Like this?” you heard his voice say but it sounded distant over the sound of your heart pumping.

Not seeming to notice your daze, Joshua placed the scarf around your neck gently. Carefully, he tugged on the two ends of it, pulling you closer inch by inch until you were so close that you had to fight yourself to not actually kiss him. He leaned closer and closer still, his nose brushing against yours, his hands still wrapped in the scarf to keep you from escaping. If you focused really hard, you could almost feel his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly.

The sound of the coffee maker starting and a mug being placed on the counter awakened you again, harshly forcing you back into consciousness. You let out a soft gasp without really meaning to.

“That– That was–” Joshua stammered, stepping away from you like he’d been burned and running a hand through his hair.

You cleared your throat. “That could work… I guess…”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“Have— Have a good day…”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t find another word to say until you reached your office. There, you slumped into your almost-comfy chair and stared at the ceiling.

“Fuck.”

[DAY 16, SATURDAY]

Brunch is meant to be fun. It’s meant to bring joy. It’s breakfast without the hassle of waking up at 8 am – what’s not to love?

Well, you weren’t sure you liked brunch that much anymore.

Traumatised (a bit of a hyperbole) and furious (the scientifically correct term), you walked into your room and shut the door behind you before turning to glare at Joshua.

While you had gone out to eat with his mother – at her insistence and with a promise of free food –, your roommate stayed home with the excuse of a headache and snuggled into your blankets like it was his rightful place.

“You.”

His eyes blinked open. “Me?”

“Why do you never read your damn messages?” you burst out but tried to keep your voice low to not catch his mother’s attention. “I sent you, like, fifty.”

“You did?” He seemed genuinely surprised. Which meant that he hadn’t even looked at his phone once in the hours you were gone. Why did he even have a phone in the first place?

Your hands clenched into fists. “What if I died?!”

“My mom asking you to brunch isn’t really a deadly occasion.”

“I barely survived! She asked me about grandkids!”

“Oh.”

Your glare was unrelenting. You hoped it would somehow telepathically convey how much you wished to strangle him if only it weren’t illegal and you weren’t desperately in love with him.

“Well, what did you tell her?” he then wondered and you almost actually jumped to tackle and murder him.

“What do you think I told her, Joshua?” You scoffed. “I just said we hadn’t thought about it because this is still new and you know what she did? Do you want to know what she did?”

He raised a brow. “I guess so?”

“She started giving me the whole ‘you don’t have forever’ and ‘I’d like grandkids before I turn 70’ spiel,” you informed him and groaned. “It went on forever.”

“You’re a good actor,” he assured you with a small smile that almost seemed amused, “I’m sure you got your way out of it.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” you told him with a roll of your eyes.

He gasped. “Because my mom asked about grandkids?!”

“Because you don’t read my texts.”

Joshua paused. “Yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

[DAY 20, WEDNESDAY]

Enough was enough. You could put up with many things – your roommate’s pranks, Chan’s endless fantasies about how he’s secretly the most sensible inhabitant of the building, Joshua’s mother staying for a month with little to no notice – but you even your charitability had its limits.

When you’d woken up this morning, your back positively aching and your joints sore from being stuck between Joshua’s wall-like form and the actual wall, the first thought you had was something Chan said:

“What are you getting out of this arrangement anyways? He gets his mom off his back, and you? Is getting to live out your late-night fantasies the only perk?”

And that was when you decided that you had finally reached your limit. With a shove that was far from affectionate or fond, you awakened Joshua and declared before he could even rub the sleep out of his eyes that he’d better keep his evening schedule and a sizable number on his bank account free for you.

What followed had been a shopping trip that dismayed him and exhilarated you. You had, after all, wanted a proper big bed for a while now. Finally, a chance to sprawl out and live out your starfish dreams without the worry of falling to the cold hard ground at 2 am. And more importantly, no more being pushed against the wall like an undignified cushion every other night.

But the thing you enjoyed most of all was Joshua’s hair getting progressively more messy and unkempt as he tried to decipher the IKEA instructions all on his own while you curled up in your desk chair and watched him with a cup of hot cocoa in hand.

“I thought you’d be better at this,” you noted passively upon hearing his frustrated sigh and seeing him unscrew what you assumed was meant to be one of the legs of the new bed. “Maybe I should’ve asked for Jeonghan’s help instead.”

The glare he sent your way was scathing but his tone remained as delightful as always when he assured you, “I’ve got this, don’t worry.”

You made a show of glancing at the time on your laptop – a rerun of Friends playing in the background in an effort to entertain your poor IKEA slave of the night – and announced, “I’m just saying. It’s almost midnight and you’ve only managed to add one leg to the frame.”

He groaned. “It’s not my fault this thing is so complicated. Why couldn’t you pick out a different frame? Something more easy to assemble, for one.”

“I wanted this one,” you teased.

“The oak one you looked at at first would’ve been better. And cheaper.”

“If you want me to keep playing along in your little improv show, you’d better be happy I only asked for a 700,000-won bed in return,” you pointed out and took a sip of your cocoa.

You sighed happily at the warmth the drink provided. Oh the joys of girlhood. You thought you could get used to this: free furniture, free assembly, and a handsome man to do your bidding.

Joshua’s lips and eyes squeezed into a sarcastic smile as he slowly turned to face you. “Don’t forget the mattress, darling.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t see you protesting at the check-out.”

His smile dropped into yet another glare. “That’s called being in shock. My bank account is dying because of you.”

Without another word, he sharply turned back to his task of assembling the frame.

“This benefits you too, sweetheart,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “I sleep better, you sleep better, everybody benefits.”

“For ten days,” he muttered and practically slammed two pieces of wood together now that he was sure they were meant to go together. “And then you have a new comfy bed and I just have poverty.”

You snorted. “I’m willing to split custody if you’re nice to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to know he was rolling his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“Besides,” you adjusted your position so you could nudge his back with your foot in an affectionate manner, “you barge in here to gossip every other night anyways. You’re benefiting plenty.”

“Remind me to never ask you to be my fake girlfriend ever again,” he pleaded.

You knew (or perhaps wished) he only half-meant it. But even so there was a pang in your chest. A feeling of sadness as the reality once again sank in. It was easy to forget that this was just an act and he had only bought you this bed because he felt guilty and not because he loved you. The feeling would nag you late into the night.

[DAY 22, FRIDAY]

You had learnt early on that karaoke has the magical ability to heal wounds and erase bad memories, even if just for one night. Tonight you hoped it would once again prove true.

The building’s monthly karaoke parties were organised by Vernon and Jihoon in an effort to bring the community closer together. On every third Friday of the month, the lobby of the building would be lit with stage and string lights, decorated with colourful banners and dollar store party supplies, and a small stage would be built in the corner. As was tradition, everyone brought some snacks and drinks to the snack table and enjoyed the evening, getting progressively more drunk between karaoke and socialising.

You thought it was the perfect solution to your problems. With the help of loud music, your nosy friends and alcohol, you would for sure soon forget your heartache and worries.

There was, however, one problem you had forgotten: Joshua’s protective nature.

You had successfully managed to avoid him for the better part of the evening, sneaking between people, hiding behind Mingyu’s wide frame under the guise of playing hide and seek with your roommate (something Mingyu was very happy to help with; you suspected he just liked to feel useful), and running at every mention of Joshua.

Seamlessly, the karaoke soon worked its miracle. You found you had missed the liberty that came with hanging out with your friends and not worrying how everything appears to Joshua’s mother. For this one night, you were not Joshua’s fake girlfriend, not someone’s pretend-daughter-in-law, and not an actress struggling at improv – you were once again just (Y/n), a simple woman in love with her best friend, eyeing him from across the room and giggling with your friends about it.

By the time you remembered you were hiding from him, you were far from sober and your thoughts were getting a little jumbled as you made conversation with Minghao, laughing between every other word because saying things was hard and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Minghao didn’t say a word and only smiled at you fondly, like one would at a kitten trying to chase after shoelaces, as he listened to you.

His attention was caught by something behind you and you saw him give someone a gentle nod and a bright smile. Then, before you could even process the situation or ask any questions, he placed a hand on your shoulder and turned you around, bringing you face to face with him.

You weren’t sure what it was about the dollar store lighting in the lobby, but you had always thought it made Joshua look even more delectable. It was hard not to stare at the shadow his lashes cast on his cheeks or the definition of his muscles visible through the thin fabric of his button-up shirt.

“Hi!” You greeted him with a wave and an intoxicated giggle, momentarily forgetting about the freshly opened can of beer in your hand and letting it slosh in your hands. “Oh! Sorry, my bad!”

A situation you would’ve once thought to be mortifying only made you laugh harder tonight as you searched for tissues and began to dry your hand. You didn’t notice when Joshua had taken the drink from you but you also wouldn’t notice he never gave it back.

He watched you with a smile. “Having fun?”

“Oh my god, I’m having so much fun,” you rambled, eyes shining as you looked at him, already forgetting your quest to dry the floor. “Did you see when Seungcheol and I did ‘Alcohol-Free’ together? It was so much fun–”

It was hard to finish your thought when he looked at you with those pretty eyes, and smile, and–

He adjusted the sleeves of your dress for you and you almost melted. All thoughts gone. Words? Never heard of those.

You were silent for so long that he chuckled. “You awake?”

“I– Yeah, totally,” you replied, blinking your eyes to force yourself to focus again. “How about you? Are you having fun?”

He shrugged. “I usually have more fun when you’re with me.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t even sing ‘Breaking Free’ with me tonight,” he complained playfully but you thought you saw a hint of actual sadness in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re making friends with Seungcheol though.”

You hummed and nodded. “He’s very nice. Very handsome too.”

His eyes widened and you couldn’t quite figure out why.

Not that you even wanted to figure it out. You were, in all honesty, more preoccupied with memorising how pretty he looked with his doe eyes. The purples and yellows and pinks of the lights reflected back from the browns of his eyes and you thought it was the prettiest sight you had ever witnessed. No sunset, sunrise or wild landscape could compete with this view.

And you wanted to tell him that; but words were so hard when your blood was buzzing with alcohol and adrenaline. So you thought you should show him somehow.

Your eyes closed briefly. You leaned forward just a bit. Then your lips pressed against his. For just a moment. You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned back and opened your eyes again.

If you had thought his eyes were pretty before, they were positively the most gorgeous sight now as he stared back at you in wonder and confusion. There were not enough words in the dictionary. You thought they ought to fix that problem and add a few just to be safe.

“The girl who wins your heart will be so lucky,” you told him softly and pressed another gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I wish I was her.”

“(Y/n), I–” he started and you felt the alcohol leave your blood in an instant, the warm buzzing replaced with a cold rush.

Before he could say anything in response, you ran out of the party.

[DAY 23, SATURDAY]

Seokmin had always heavily advertised the building’s monthly karaoke parties as “life-altering”. He wrote that in large letters with a bright red marker on every karaoke party notice he saw and he said the exact phrase to every person he talked to in the week leading up to the event. Which was especially funny because 1) he wasn’t on the advertising team, 2) there was no advertising team to begin with, and 3) he never even volunteered to help organise the events. You had concluded that he was just very incredibly enthusiastic about karaoke (and with a voice like his how could one not be?).

But you now feared he was right after all.

Upon realising your mistake, you had, for a moment, contemplated going home and hiding in your room before you realised it would be the first place he’d look for you.

So, instead, you sent a silent apology your best friend’s way and took the spare key from under the doormat before letting yourself into Chan's apartment.

Even as the morning arrived, you didn’t dare face Joshua. Not after what had happened. Not after you had kissed him and told him you wished he’d fall in love with you and kissed him again. You could never go home again.

Chan looked away from his laptop screen just to give you a look with one of his brows raised. “You literally live with him.”

“That’s the whole point. I can’t go home,” you told him, lying face-down against his thigh.

Turns out it’s surprisingly easy to make physical contact with men when you’re not attracted to them. You silently wondered if that could be the solution to your obvious touch-starvation problem – why else would you drunkenly kiss your roommate?

He rolled his eyes. “Then what’s your plan, drama queen?”

You didn’t answer, mulling it over in your head. There really weren’t a lot of options.

Maybe it was a sign – finally you could fulfil your life-long dream of adopting a new identity and moving to Iceland to become an anonymous sheep herder. It sure sounded more tempting than facing Joshua Hong again.

Before you could open your mouth to suggest a viable idea, Chan beat you to it with a click of his tongue. “You’re too poor to move to Iceland. And no, you can’t move into my place either.”

There went your plan A as well as plan B.

“Fuck you,” you told him and rolled over to face the ceiling. “Then what do I do?”

“What you always do, I guess,” he sighed and turned back to his online shopping addiction. “You complain a bit, throw an apple at my head, and then pretend nothing ever happened between you and Joshua.”

You blinked. “Do I always do that?”

“Without fail.”

You hadn’t realised there was a pattern. Perhaps this whole thing was worse than you had thought. Perhaps taking a new identity and running really was your only option. And who knows, you thought, maybe you’d find a nice man in Iceland and fall in love with a not-Joshua instead. Then you’d at least be free of one problem, even if at the expense of a new set of issues.

“Instead of catastrophizing, you should use this opportunity,” Chan broke the silence, eyes still on the screen.

You suddenly understood why throwing an apple at his head was part of the pattern. Fortunately for him, the apples were just out of your reach and you were too comfy and hungover to go get even one. “To fake my death and go into hiding? Absolutely.”

“What? No!” He frowned at you as if you had suggested 2+2 was 5. “What is wrong with you? You need to face this whole thing head-on instead of making escape plans!”

“I’d honestly rather go missing under mysterious circumstances.”

“Or,” he started and flicked your forehead with his fingers, making you curse at him as he rolled his eyes, “you could accept the fact that you confessed to your crush and see what he thinks of that.”

“He looked horrified last night.”

“You were drunk and kissed him without permission,” he reminded you helpfully. You failed to see how that information would soften the blow. If anything, it was making you feel like a predator – and not even a very clever one. You grimaced. “Give the poor guy a minute to process before jumping to conclusions. He was just surprised. If you stuck around instead of pulling a Cinderella, maybe you would’ve found out it wasn’t that big of a deal. Who knows, maybe he even likes you back.”

“Pull a Cinder–” You sputtered and glared at him. “Why do I ever come to you for advice?”

He offered a smug smile. “Because deep down you know I’m right.”

You were certain he wasn’t. You couldn’t imagine any scenario outside of your daydreams where the situation could’ve been resolved with a smile and a confession from Joshua Hong. You could, however, imagine a thousand scenarios of him running away or being so disgusted by your behaviour that he’d call off the fake dating scheme once and for all.

Seeing your hopeless expression, Chan sighed. “Instead of making doom’s day plans, try to look at the bright side of things.”

“What bright side?” you asked, closing your eyes and wishing the month would end already. “I embarrassed myself in front of my crush. What’s the bright side, Mr Positivity?”

His silence spoke louder than any words ever could have.

[DAY 24, SUNDAY]

After two nights at Chan’s apartment, you finally decided it was time to face your nightmare. If Joshua hadn’t unilaterally called off the scheme yet, his mother must have for sure been worried about the state of things. You thought you owed him at least these last 7 days of fulfilling this nonsensical plan.

So, after two cups of coffee and a pep talk from Lee Chan, you braced yourself and walked into your own apartment for the first time all weekend.

It was silent. Of course it was, you thought and facepalmed: it was only 8 am on a Sunday. Just because your sins and demons had kept you from sleeping in didn’t mean Joshua and his mother would be awake at this damned hour.

You were just about to come to terms with the fact when a soft pitter-patter of feet interrupted the silence. The steps came closer and you took a deep breath to calm yourself, praying it wouldn’t be who you thought it was.

But you knew it was a useless hope. You had lived with Joshua long enough to recognise his footsteps and the rhythm of his snores in your sleep.

He let out a sigh that seemed almost relieved once he reached the living room.

“Where were you?” you expected him to ask and put on his best impression of an overprotective dad.

“How dare you come back here?” you half thought he’d say and glare at you as he’d shove a bag full of your clothes into your arms and kick you out.

But he just watched you in silence for a moment as if to make sure you were real and not a figment of his overactive imagination. And only once you had been pushed to the point of awkwardness where you couldn’t help but put on a tight-lipped smile and a shrug did he finally open his mouth to ask, “Did you eat yet?”

You had almost forgotten what he sounded like and it was a pleasant feeling to listen to him again. The soft murmur and slight sleepy growl to his voice sounded like home and it made the butterflies in your stomach come back to life with a roar of fluttering wings, free of shame and fear.

Your smile almost felt genuine when you replied, “I was going to make pancakes…”

… To make up for what I did went unsaid, but you suspected he knew they were there nonetheless.

He yawned in a way that didn’t seem entirely real, as if he was putting on an act to ease the awkwardness. After glancing at the clock he spoke again, “I kind of want to go eat breakfast outside today.”

“Oh.”

You felt a little dejected at the thought but you understood. If someone had done to you what you had to him – someone you thought was your friend suddenly kissed you and confessed to you, even drunkenly –, you probably would have needed more time as well. If he didn’t want to eat breakfast at home with you, it was his right. You were sure his mother was better company than you anyways.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt you though. You turned your head to fight back the tears that threatened to make a comeback. You didn’t think you had any right to cry but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to.

But before you could spiral further, Joshua chuckled, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay. You can get as many waffles as you want.”

Your head snapped to face him again, eyes blinking rapidly. You pointed at yourself. “You want me to–”

“Get dressed, silly. I’m too poor to pay for both you and mom, you know.” He could hardly keep from smiling. “Besides, we need to talk, just you and I.”

And talk you did. Or at least you would have if you weren’t so distracted by waffles and a sense of impending doom. You could hardly sit still in your chair, feeling uncomfortable sitting across from him.

Any moment now, you thought, he’s going to say you were an awful person. Any moment now, he’s going to say it was all a big mistake and he should’ve just asked Jeonghan to fake date him instead.

But maybe Chan was right and you were a fair bit overdramatic.

“So about the other night,” Joshua finally started with a heavy sigh and put down his coffee cup. He avoided your eyes (not that you would’ve noticed because you were too busy avoiding his anyway) as he searched for words to say.

“I’m sorry about that,” you blurted out, abandoning your waffles.

He paused. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry for… you know…” You couldn’t even say the words because it was so dumb and ridiculous and shouldn’t have ever happened anyway. How does one apologise for kissing someone? You forced yourself to look him in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have done it. I was just drunk and dumb and silly– You know how I get.”

He nodded. “Right. You were just… drunk.”

“Yep.”

“And you just kissed me because…”

“I was excited to see you,” you half-lied and avoided his eyes again. “I just hadn’t seen you all night and there you were and I guess I got a little…” Carried away? Lovestruck? “It doesn’t change anything, I swear. I was drunk.”

Silence. He was silent for so long that you were half-convinced he’d gone and left you to your own devices. Paying for the breakfast would’ve been the least of your worries.

When you looked up to see if he was still there, you saw him looking down at his food. He seemed… sad? Disappointed? Upset with you for making such silly excuses maybe? You shuddered to think what that odd dim look on his face meant.

The butterflies that had woken up just an hour ago went back to rest, ashamed of their work. You could just hope he wouldn’t hate you forever or kick you out of the apartment.

Finally, after what felt like forever and then some years, Joshua forced on a smile that was a little too bright to be real. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re back. Where did you even go after the karaoke?”

“I–” You were both overjoyed and taken aback by his question. He cared. He cared and he didn’t want you gone from his life. “I kind of broke into Chan’s apartment and stayed there.”

Brows furrowing and the corner of his mouth turning downwards, he scoffed. “Instead of just coming home? I was worried sick!”

“I’m sorry!” you squeaked and somehow it was the most sincere apology you had uttered today. “I was just so embarrassed and I didn’t think you’d want to see me, so–”

“I always want to see you,” he argued with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re my best friend, (Y/n). I could never be so mad at you that I’d never want to see you. You had me so worried! I thought you’d gone to sleep in a dumpster somewhere.”

There he was – the Joshua you had fallen so hopelessly in love with. Your silly, protective, way too sweet and dramatic Joshua. And you didn’t feel ashamed to be in front of him.

A smile forced its way onto your lips at the thought.

“What are you smiling at? This is serious!” He could hardly fight a grin himself, already bordering on giggling at your argument. “I was worried about you. And mom kept asking about you and I almost told her you’d moved to Iceland like you always dreamed–”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted him with a laugh. “I’m sorry, again. You can stop being a worry-wart now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Next time I’ll just leave you to freeze in the dumpster.”

“I didn’t sleep in a dumpster!”

“Chan’s place is not much better.”

[DAY 26, TUESDAY]

You had hoped that your Sunday breakfast apologies would be the last your actions would haunt you aside from the regular night-time program of nightmares. You had apologised, you had made up, and you were friends with Joshua again as if nothing had happened at all.

Had there been a small, minimal, miniscule glimmer of hope in your heart that Chan’s words would be true and Joshua would tell you he liked you back? Sure.

Had it been crushed to the point of no revival? Absolutely.

“Oh, hey, (Y/n),” Vernon greeted you when you entered the building’s lobby after a long day of work.

You glanced around and noted that, as per usual, the clean-up of the karaoke party was taking five days longer than the setting up. It was only natural, you supposed, as Jihoon was too busy to bother with this and Vernon – as per Junhui and Seungkwan’s accounts – was not the biggest fan of cleaning. Today, four days after the party, he was taking down the last string lights.

“I see some things never change,” you told him with a good-natured chuckle.

Though it took him a moment to understand what you were implying, Vernon rolled his eyes once the realisation hit. “You’re welcome to come and help.”

You had walked right into that one and so you sighed. “Alright, what do you need?”

He laughed. “I was just joking. I’ve got this. I planned this entire thing anyway.”

“Wouldn’t you rather spend some time with your girlfriend?” you wondered. You could barely wrap your mind around how people with dating lives didn’t just spend all their free time cuddling and being in love.

“Ella’s fine,” he told you with a shrug. “She’s got Rocket and Mango to keep her company.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I think she’s probably sick of me, anyway.”

“Why?”

“... I ate the last ice cream.”

You snorted a laugh. “Might as well send in the divorce paperwork already.”

“Right?” he joked before raising his brows. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why aren’t you at home, making googly eyes at Josh?”

You froze. Did he know about your crush? Vernon – the master of not noticing the things around him – had noticed your crush? How obvious had you been?

“Why would I do that?” you asked after clearing your throat.

He scoffed. “Oh, come on, we all saw you at the party.”

It appeared the magical karaoke regrets would never stop haunting you. You cursed under your breath.

Barely noting your silence, Vernon turned back to the lights but asked, “So, are you finally together? Did he finally confess?”

“Confess?”

You cringed as you felt like a broken record forced to perform, but your brain was too far in overdrive to maintain its normal operations.

“I mean, he’s been in love with you since like… forever, really,” he told you oh-so-casually, as if he was discussing the Monday paper or the weather. “I thought the dumbass would never confess. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Jeonghan and Seungkwan would’ve set up a ploy to get you to date.”

And just like that you found yourself on Chan’s sofa once again. He had only greeted you with a deep, heartfelt sigh and a nod that said he had expected this.

As he fell next to you on the sofa, he took a sip of beer and said, “Do your thing, drama queen.”

You stayed silent, still pondering your existence and the ups and downs of your (non?)existent love life.

Mouth agape in surprise at your lack of complaints, Chan waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to (Y/n)? What happened? You know, it’s good to let your feelings out. I might complain about it sometimes but–”

“Vernon said Joshua has a crush on me,” you finally blurted out, staring ahead, still deep in disbelief. “It can’t be, right? He’s probably being silly. But what if he isn’t? What if he’s right? What if Joshua has a crush on me? What if he had a crush on me and then I kissed him and now he thinks I’m gross?”

It did feel good to let your feelings and thoughts out. And now they just sounded even sillier. Why? Well, because it was ridiculous – Joshua would never have a crush on you.

Chan blinked. “Vernon said that?”

“Do you think he’s right?”

He kissed his teeth. “And if I say yes?”

“Then why didn’t he say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because he can’t possibly like me!”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back. “There you go.”

“Why hasn’t he confessed? He could’ve told me to not apologise. He could’ve kissed me back. He could’ve–”

“Maybe he’s a coward and he’s waiting for you to confess first,” Chan guessed. “You know, kind of like how you’re doing right now.”

“You are entirely unhelpful,” you told him with a mild glare that one could almost mistake for fond. “I can’t just confess to him. Not after what happened.”

“Says who?”

“Can you stop asking questions and help me,” you whined before practically slamming your head against his shoulder in a search for comfort. “This is a serious crisis. Do you think he could actually like me?”

Chan hesitated. “You didn’t hear it from me, but…”

“But?”

“I’m pretty sure I overheard Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua talking about you. And I’m pretty sure Joshua said he could never live with himself if you rejected him.”

“He did?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” he reminded you and patted your arm in a brotherly manner. “So I say you go and confess and live happily ever after.”

You groaned. “Or miserably.”

“If that’s what you want,” he joked. “But you should still give it a try.”

“But not today though.”

“Definitely not today. You look like a mess,” he blurted. “He’d have to be pretty far gone to accept your confession, Ms Frankenstein.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and tensed as if he expected you to hit him – with an apple, you guessed – and you just scoffed out something akin to a laugh.

“I’d kick you if you weren’t such a good friend,” you told him instead and gently patted his cheek. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

[DAY 27, WEDNESDAY]

The alarm still had a few minutes before it would go off.

You stared at Joshua as he slept soundly beside you. It was tempting to smooth down his hair and press a soft kiss to his forehead. But you had other things to do before you could do that.

You took a deep breath and opened your lips to just whisper the words – as practice for the real confession you would definitely, 100%, certainly make in a few days – but no sound came out.

You sighed and slumped back into your pillow. Confessing is harder than it looks in movies and books, even when he’s asleep and can’t hear you.

Joshua’s phone began ringing, notifying both him and you of the beginning of a new day. He stirred beside you. You pretended you’d been asleep this entire time.

[DAY 28, THURSDAY]

It was cold. So, so cold. Of course fate would have it that the first snowstorm of the year would hit without warning on the one day the last bus home was over an hour late. And of course it had to be on the one day when your boss asked (or, rather, begged) you to work overtime.

But maybe fate wasn’t entirely cruel and useless, you thought as Seungcheol’s car stopped in front of the bus stop and he invited you inside with a worried smile and a wave.

“What are you doing out so late?” he wondered as he cranked the seat warmers up to the maximum. “Didn’t you watch the forecast?”

Oh. So they had issued a warning after all.

“I’ve been a little distracted, I guess,” you told him with a sheepish laugh before thanking him for giving you a lift and wondering, “What about you? It’s not exactly driving weather.”

“Every weather is driving weather,” he joked and offered you a bright smile that for the shortest moment had you wishing you had fallen for him and not your stupidly endearing roommate. “I’m sure Joshua’s worried.”

You hadn’t even thought to check your phone until now. Frankly, judging by its recent battery life, you’d be shocked if it had any charge left at all.

“He’ll live.”

“Are you– I thought–” He hummed in thought, brows furrowing. “Are you not together?”

How you wished you were.

“No,” you sighed. “But I was going to confess tonight until, you know, my boss decided we needed those reports two days ago.”

Seungcheol nearly swerved his car in surprise. He was quick to fix his error – it went fairly smoothly with how empty the streets were this late at night. “I’m sorry. I really thought you were together. He’s been talking about you so much. I thought–”

“Apparently you’re not the only one.” You laughed. “I don’t know how he’ll feel if I do confess though. Maybe he’ll kick me out.”

“He won’t. No way,” he said and it almost sounded like a promise. “But if he does, tell me and I’ll kick his ass.”

“So you think I should confess?”

“Do it. I think you’ll like the outcome.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say I have some experience with love.”

[DAY 29, FRIDAY]

Back home, Joshua felt like he was going to go out of his mind. The clock on the wall was mocking him, moving forward even as his worry deepened.

It was already almost midnight. You were usually home by 7. And yet there was no sign of you.

Sighing, he fell back onto the sofa and checked his phone again. He wasn’t sure how many times he had done that already. Fifteen? Fifty? Five hundred, perhaps?

Still no calls back. Still no sign that you had read his messages. When he tapped on your contact to call you, it went to voicemail and he almost went insane.

“I’m sure she’s safe. She’ll be home soon,” his mother comforted him with a gentle pat on the shoulder. But her words were hard to believe when she was staying up later than usual with him, her third cup of peppermint tea sat on the coffee table in front of them.

The clock ticked midnight and Joshua jumped to his feet. “I’m going out to find her.”

“You’re going out? In this weather?” She didn’t need to use harsh words for him to know that she was scolding him.

But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care when you weren’t home.

So he ignored her warnings and pulled on his coat, his boots, and grabbed his car keys.

“I’ll be back soon,” he called over his shoulder as he left the apartment. He heard her call something out to him but he couldn’t be bothered to listen when he was half-certain you were buried in a pile of snow somewhere.

He was halfway down the stairs, somewhere between the first and second floor when he heard your voice. He could’ve sworn life returned to his veins at the sound. He sighed in relief and picked up the pace, hurrying to see you.

But then he heard another voice. Seungcheol.

“If you like it, keep it,” the man from 5A spoke, his voice rich and low in a way Joshua just knew would have any woman weak at the knees. And how was he supposed to compete with that?

He heard you laugh – giggle, really. “That’s so sweet, Cheol.”

Cheol? Joshua almost scoffed in disbelief. It had taken him two months to get to the nickname stage with you and this man comes and reaches it in less than a month?

He wasn’t sure what this feeling in his chest was. Anger? Bitterness? No, he was just lying to himself. He knew exactly what this feeling was: jealousy. And he’d be damned if he let this continue.

Dusting off his black wool coat, he picked up the pace again and rushed downstairs to meet you.

The acting lessons his mother had signed him up for when he was a kid paid off now as he feigned surprise at the sight of you. Eyes widening, lips falling apart, and a gasp of air to really sell it. He ran to you from the bottom of the staircase.

“Sweetheart!” he called out as he practically tackled you in a hug. He didn’t even have to pretend as he held you close, one arm around your back and one pushing against the back of your head to keep you as close as humanly possible. “Where were you? I was so worried. Are you okay?”

You had squeaked in surprise and he almost laughed. He let you go (all the while making sure to keep one hand on your back) and asked again, “Are you okay, baby?”

You seemed to be speechless, staring at him with wide eyes full of confusion.

Seungcheol cleared his throat and Joshua almost glared at him just to prove a point. “I should leave you with your…”

“Boyfriend,” Joshua quickly supplied with a smile he hoped came across as both friendly and venomous. You let out another squeak of surprise.

“Right.” Seungcheol raised a single brow before sharing a funny look with you. “I’ll see you some other time then, (Y/n). And don’t let your boss make you work overtime again.”

With that, he climbed up the stairs, leaving just Joshua and you.

“You worked overtime?” Joshua wondered, visibly relaxing once Seungcheol was out of range. “How long?”

“Just until 10,” you replied but it sounded almost robotic.

“It’s midnight,” he reminded you and took your hand to check if your hands were cold. He sighed in both relief that they were warm and disappointment that he didn’t have an excuse to play with your hands now.

You scratched your head. “The bus was late. I don’t know if it even came.”

“So, then you called Seungcheol?”

The implication hurt him. He thought he was your first call no matter what happened. He had been all these months, after all. Even if he sucked at reading messages, he never failed to answer the phone on the first ring.

“I think my phone died. Cheol just happened to drive past,” you told him and, for once, he felt better.

He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, taking the situation in. It felt like he could finally breathe and think again now that you were back home.

“Joshua,” your voice interrupted his thoughts and he hummed, “are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and looked at you. The urge to pull you back into his arms was overwhelming. “You had me so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I should’ve called but–”

“I can’t keep doing this.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He really hadn’t. But that hadn’t stopped him at all.

You seemed startled at his words, not in a good way. In a way that made him wonder if you ever expected anything but the worst when he spoke to you. He had to put a stop to it.

But before he could, you scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re acting like I do this often.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Also, what just happened with Cheol?” He wasn’t sure what had set you off, but he felt himself matching your energy, getting agitated. “Since when are you introducing yourself as my boyfriend to our neighbours? If you wanted to do that, you should have warned me.”

“I lied,” he blurted out before you could continue. “I’ve been lying to you a lot.”

You froze. “You… You lied? What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath. “When I lied to my mom, when I told her we were dating – it wasn’t random. I said I was dating you because… I guess I just wanted it to be real. I wasn’t nervous because I lied to her. I was nervous because I thought you’d be disgusted and upset and hate me. But I’ve liked you since the day you moved in and I’ve been in love with you since the time you borrowed my sweater in August because the moths ate all of yours.”

“You like me?” you asked dumbly and he actually laughed.

Joshua nodded. “I’m in love with you in a way I didn’t think I could ever be with anyone.”

“And… you’re choosing to confess now?” You glanced around at the empty lobby, only a single sconce lamp lighting the way into the building. “Here? Like this? Why?”

“Seungcheol–”

Your jaw dropped. “Because you’re jealous?!”

Joshua scratched the back of his neck and avoided your eyes. He didn’t have a single excuse. He was an impulsive man. He rarely thought of the consequences or even of what he was doing in that moment. Especially when it came to you. He looked down at his feet.

“I mean,” you continued with a chuckle, “I guess I’m no better. I kissed you at the karaoke just because I thought you were pretty.”

“I should’ve kissed you back,” he told you earnestly.

You blinked. And then you blinked again. Then he saw a mischievous glint in your eye. “You should. Right now.”

You couldn’t have been serious. He didn’t think you were. There was no way.

“You can’t just confess to me like this and then not kiss me,” you told him and you didn’t sound mad at him. “You owe me that much after that scene with Seungcheol and confessing to me in the building lobby, Mr Gentleman.”

Who was he to argue?

Taking another long gulp of air, he leaned closer. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre, unsure if you were serious or not.

It was his turn to squeak in surprise when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt coat and pulled him closer to kiss his lips.

“So,” he wondered, voice soft and dazed, when you pulled away, “you like me back?”

“You can ask Chan for proof, if you want,” you simply told him before kissing him again.

He didn’t care to ask for an explanation. Not when he was finally getting everything he wanted.

[DAY 30, SUNDAY]

Turns out fake dating becomes a lot easier when you just actually date. Who could’ve guessed?

The agony of sharing your bed and being pushed against the wall no matter the size of your mattress was replaced with the domestic joy of being able to cuddle your boyfriend. By the second night of dating Joshua, you had found your favourite position was letting him lie half on top of you, his head resting against your chest at the perfect angle to play with his hair.

The awkward breakfasts full of lies… Well, they still had a few emergency lies here and there, but for the most part it was stealing bites off his plate and nudging each other while giggling as his mother watched you with a mildly amused look on her face.

And the kisses. You couldn’t get enough of the kisses and neither could the butterflies in your stomach, still fluttering the same as they had during your first kiss even now as he kissed you for the fiftieth time (yes, you had kept count).

It was only a shame that the real dating started so late into the scheme. After only two days of domestic bliss, it was time for his mother to pack her bags and go home.

Dressed in a warm coat and wrapped in a large scarf, she offered her son a warm hug, whispering endearments and gentle scoldings into his ear as you waited in the lobby. You suspected her taxi driver had fallen asleep by now.

She then gave you a hug as well. A short and sweet one with a warning to treat her son well. And then she added, “Oh, before I forget, I left something on the kitchen table for you. Read it later, okay?”

You nodded and sent her off with a smile.

Joshua joined your side, resting a hand on your back (a new habit of his that you didn’t quite mind). He wore a smile.

“What did she tell you?” you asked him. “When you were hugging.”

“Told me to stop leaving the toilet seat up,” he told you and you suspected it was only half the truth. “What about you?”

“She said she left something on the kitchen table for us to read.”

He paused. “A book?”

“You think? What if it’s a poem?”

“Maybe a letter?”

“It’s possible.”

You shared a look. His mother’s taxi barely managed to leave your sight before you and your boyfriend (you could never get enough of calling him that) were dashing up the stairs to solve the mystery.

True enough, there was a white envelope on the table.

“Maybe it’s pocket money,” you guessed as you picked the envelope up. “For hosting her or something.”

“If it is, you should give it to me,” he told you and you weren’t entirely sure he was joking. “There’s a hole in my bank account because of you.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” you sighed and opened the envelope. You were pleasantly surprised to find out you had been right – a handful of cash had been stashed into the envelope, probably enough to cover your rent for the month.

Barely bothering to hide his smirk, Joshua extended a palm. You gave him a look. Stared at him. Then sighed and placed the cash in his hand. He smiled bright and put it away in his pocket.

But the cash wasn’t all. There was a folded piece of paper. A letter.

You opened it, half-expecting a scolding or a motherly warning. But this letter – as short as it was sweet – exceeded all expectations.

Sweethearts

I hope you know I’m not unwise. I know all about your little scheme – neither of you are very good actors. Joshua, you should know better than to lie to your mother.

But it was entertaining and I am glad to have given you some incentive to finally take the proper steps and start dating. You make a cute couple when you’re not acting.

Can’t wait to see you two again soon

Your jaw dropped.

“What does it say?” Joshua wondered, leaning over your shoulder to read. He let out a scoff soon afterwards. “She can be so mean.”

“She knew this whole time?” you cried out.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve known. It was too easy.”

“I mean, I thought she was suspicious of us, but this?”

“Do we really suck at acting this much?”

“Whatever,” you sighed and put the letter down. “I’m going to sleep. I can’t handle an existential crisis right now.”

“Right, let’s go sleep,” Joshua agreed, leading you away from the kitchen with a gentle tug on your arm.

It was only when you were stood in front of the two bedroom doors, nearly identical and stood side by side, that you paused and a realisation hit.

Was it appropriate to share a bed anymore? Surely Joshua would want to go back to his own room now that it was free again?

You almost groaned out loud: you had thought the doubts and useless problems would cease after the confession. Everything was good and great and wonderful, so why were the stupid worries back?

Having probably reached the same conclusion, Joshua seemed just as stumped. He stared at his bedroom door for a while and you were certain he’d go to sleep in his own bed for the night, ending your most favourite part of newfound domestic bliss.

“I paid for the bed,” he suddenly said with a laugh and gently pushed you towards your room, following closely after. “You’re not getting rid of me now, sweetheart.”

“So you’re just inviting yourself into my room now?” you joked, nudging his side before letting yourself fall onto the bed.

He laid down next to you, resting his head on his arm after rolling to his side to face you. He grinned. “It’s our room now.”

You loved the sound of that and you were certain he could see it on your face.

“So what will we do with your room?”

Joshua pondered for a moment. “We could turn it into a guest room. something tells me mom’s going to want to visit again soon.”

You paled at the mention of her. “I don’t think I can ever look her in the eyes again.”

“Me neither,” he sighed and leaned over to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Let’s not think about it any more.”

“You’re the one that brought her up!” You laughed.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” he said. “I love you.”

The butterflies went crazy. You couldn’t and wouldn’t fight the smile that appeared on your face. “I love you too.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #joshua hong scenarios #joshua hong x reader #joshua x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen fic #x reader

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k0mmari · 2 days ago

Text

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN PT.3

Too tired to do my obligations, but too stressed out to sleep, so here we find ourselves again.

This, once again, got horribly long- so long, in fact, I think this is the longest post in this 'trilogy'-, so I apologize in advance (╥ᆺ╥;) I also apologize for the lack of doodles, but dont worry! Im preparing a special one for later <33

After that night where SY offered Binghe an umbrella, things have certainly… changed. Unlike before, where SY spent most of his time mapping away at the ridiculously complex castle hallways and carefully marking away which times it was most likely for SY to be able to get close to Xin Mo, alongside doing his ‘servant’ duties of gathering dirty laundry and cleaning a room here and there, his routine had been suddenly adjusted; now, while he still needed to do everything he was doing before, his servant duties consisted of accompanying the chosen Wife Of The Day.

Or, well, that’s how one of the higher ranking staff had put it, that he was to attend to whatever wife Lord Luo decided to entertain for the day, but honestly, SY was starting to suspect that that had been a convoluted way for Binghe to have SY around whenever he wanted, which…. Was frankly quite worrying! To have the golden protagonist keep his eyes glued on his back almost every second they were in the same room, which - if SY looked back- usually led to Binghe looking away in a (bad) attempt to pretend he wasn’t glaring daggers at SY was more than enough for SY to think the Emperor was probably plotting his demise.

What else could it be? Specially with the way Binghe’s hand seemed to always be lightly tugging at the tassel on his hair every time SY caught him looking, he suspects Binghe had caught onto SY not actually being a servant, and instead that weird guy he saw before he fell into hell that one time. What if Binghe thought SY was somehow involved into the Abyss Incident?? Lord Luo, please have mercy on this servant!

Though, maybe the strangest part of it all, was that sometimes Binghe and SY would just… talk. Usually when the Wife Of The Day was doing something else (e.g. playing music for her husband, or practicing archery, or doing anything that didn’t involve LBH 100% at her side), Binghe would just start musing out loud about the strangest things. It started with questions that were all fair to ask, like ‘How come this servant is a human in the demon realm’, or ‘How come this servant has such short hair’ (SY bullshitted something about being a former slave) but eventually it shifted to questions that were a bit more… random. Or, well, not even questions, musings that Binghe muttered out loud but clearly wanted SY’s input.

It started with minimal things, like Binghe wondering about some type of monster he wanted to fight but he forgot how to do it without damaging the fur too much, which, after a minute of silence and a not-so-subtle look at SY, led to SY nerding out and saying not only the monsters weakness, but what could be done with every important part of the body. Though, the day after that SY realized how strange it was that Binghe was wondering that out loud, since he only fought that monster well into his time as an Emperor, and he swore he remembered one of the wives gushing about her new bracelet that was made from the rare bones of that creature just a few days ago…

Anyways, it continued with questions of similar nature: musings on how to kill a monster Binghe would have no problem killing, to what he should eat for dinner, to what gift should he get for Wife Of The Day. Of course, SY answered all the ‘questions’, and sometimes they even made it to having an actual conversation! Sure, it was a little stilted, SY could not figure out for the life of him why the great Lord Luo was interacting with a random servant, but one day it all finally clicked to him. Binghe had been in the middle of ‘musing’ about hair oils(??), when SY couldn’t help but interrupt him:

“Ah…. Apologies if this lowly servant is overstepping, My Lord, but does My Lord just want someone to talk to?”

A few emotions flashed through Binghe's face quickly enough for SY to not be able to decifer any of them, but eventually landing on a sheepish smile. "This Lord has been found out."

Oh, how cute! And how sad! SY had noticed when SQH was just showing him his shitty story how sad that LBH, even after getting the world to bow at his feet, never really had friendships. Sure, he still had all the love he could want, but sometimes people need friends to talk to, not lovers!

While he knew that he shouldn't interact with characters in world overlooked by the System unless they were transmigrators, SY couldn't help but feel that the situation was dire enough that LBH would turn to a no-name servant in this time of desperation. And it would be a great opportunity to study Xin Mo more closely as well! If SY showed LBH the wonders of friendship, maybe he could pass by his supervisor that he only had to do what was necessary for this world to not implode on itself.

Besides, who could even say no to such a handsome man such as LBH? Is as the old saying goes: what the protagonist wants, he shall have.

SY's friendship plan has been going great! After figuring out Binghe's intentions, it seems all of the protagonists reservations flew out the window, and SY was now responsible for being Binghe's personal retainer. Not that that meant too much, since Binghe liked to bend the rules to his liking, and some tasks that should be SY's responsability sometimes were pushed to another servant or Binghe himself made them (which, ???)

Mostly, SY stood at Binghe's side, served tea, was used so Binghe could bounce ideas off of someone, and tended to finer details. All of that very much manageable, if not for the weird mood swings LBH would have sometimes. Yuan, as he has told Binghe was his name after being too scared of the repercutions of using 'Shen', was to accompany him all the time, but sometimes not all the time, or else LBH would get moody; Yuan was to listen to LBH's ideas and plans, and should always comment back or else Binghe would feel neglected, but not too much or else, as LBH had put it, could 'bring back bad memories'; Yuan was to tend to LBH's night routine, even as far as to brush his hair, and if he refused LBH (again) get all moody, but he couldn't brush too much, and he had to do at least one braid but NEVER touch the old, frizzy braid that still had that damn tassle-

Honestly, it was a careful game of balance, which reminded SY more often than not of a child that got mad when their older sibling didn't quite understand the redundant rules they made for a make-believe. Any other person would get fed up, and probably scared of Binghe's constant mood swings, but SY had him all figured out, and his resilience proved to be useful time and time again, since most of the time after his sour mood passed, Binghe would come crawling back with the most pitiful face ever, and what was SY to do? As LBH's friend, it was his duty to hug him and pat his head! (And no one could judge him for that, since if he didn't pat Binghe's head, his mood would plummet all over again.)

Though... SY did feel kind of bad. He wouldn't be able to stay with Binghe forever, and would even need to potentially steal his all-powerful sword for a little bit so everything wouldn't get corrupted. Honestly, the only thing keeping SY from worrying about being labled as a traitor and potentially getting killed was that he would just go back to the System's office and go on with his life.

LBH, eventually, caught onto SY's plan on leaving - really, it was only a matter of time. After that fateful encounter with that other SQQ, LBH had found himself in rather pitiful state, questioning everything he knew until that moment and wondering why he couldn't achieve that happiness, and desperately trying to search for a SQQ of his own. He had contemplated going back to that first world, but what would it even matter? Even if he took SQQ by force, his heart would still be with that other LBH, and Binghe couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't be everything in SQQ's world, as he had become for LBH.

Specially after Meng Mo had one day interupted his carefully crafted dream of an idelic world and pointed out some curious memories he'd almost forgotten about. That day, when back in his childhood, when he'd been beaten up by a buch of older kids and hallucinated a man in strange clothes before passing out and waking up protected from the rain. Or when he thought he'd lost his jade pendant forever, only to magically appear in the cabin later.

Or the strange man in the Immortal Alliance Conference.

After SQQ- SJ , that good-for-nothing scum- pushed him to the Abyss, he tried his best to never think about that day again, too scared by how weak he'd been, pleading to man that would sell his soul for one more night at that brothel of his if he could, but now... Now that he could mold his dreamscape any way he wanted, he could look back with a clear mind, which eventually led to the conclusion: It must have been the same person. The same strangely dressed man that helped him in his childhood somehow appeared at the Immortal Alliance again, and even had left provisions right next to where Binghe had fallen.

He'd convinced himself, after many, many years of wishing for a miracle, that he's simply imagined the man, one last thread to keep himself from going insane, but after meeting the other SQQ...

And then Yuan came in. A new servant that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

It took some observation, and a lot preparing himself to face dissapointment that maybe he was just projecting, putting the image of someone else onto a random man, but that day, when LBH was wondering if he was just wasting time, that that beautiful dream of having his version of SQQ would not happen any time in this world, that maybe he really should just go look at other worlds; after all, if it happened once, it had to happen again, right? Not that it mattered in the end, since while he spireled, much to Xin Mo's pleasure, an umbrella was put over his head, and all his doubts had washed away.

Yuan had to be his version of SQQ, it had to be. And after all his effort of getting close to him, after going so far to keep Yuan at his side, even if he still battled with that his perception of SJ and the other SQQ sometimes overlapping with Yuan's image, even if he still wasn't ready to let go of that one braid, he was becoming more and more sure in his assumption that his SQQ had come to him. Everything was going as planned, and LBH was in track to finally begin to properly court him, and yet-

He was sure Yuan wanted to leave. He wasn't sure why, not how he would do that, maybe just dissapear like he had all those years ago and either only appear again 5, 10, 100 years in the future or go back to wherever he came from in the first place. But LBH knew Yuan wanted to leave, that he needed to complete whatever mission he had (after LBH managed to pry that out of his dreams, which where another source of confusion, with how absurdly difficult they were to even get a grasp of), and that, under any circumstances, he could let Yuan escape his sight.

Not again. Never again.

Binghe had become even stickier in the last few weeks. Not that SY minded, it was very cute to see such a different side from the cool, badass Lord Luo, but SY was running out of time. Since Binghe became stickier, his mood swings had worsened even more, now not wanting SY to be anywhere that Binghe wasn't, and Xin Mo seemed to be thriving off of whatever was making Binghe extra protective, though it was becoming a genuine problem now, since Binghe suddenly refused to see any of his wive's to deal with the Xin Mo problem, and he seemed to be on the verge of qi deviation at all times.

In fact, the only reason Binghe hadn't already qi deviated was because SY was abusing his Personal System and chipping away at the qi deviation in Binghe's night routine, since it was the only time where he was physically very close to Binghe and could spend long periods of time manually coding away at the System screen without it looking suspicious.

But, as if that wasn't enough of a problem, since Xin Mo was having the time of it's life recently, the virus clinging to the sword was also getting stronger, leaving even more residuals all along the castle and bordering on infecting Binghe himself.

His Scissors where thankfully, repaired, and his sweet, sweet manager was even kind enough to send him some extra energy supplies, but at the rate the virus was spreading, he was worrying that he would have to deal with the source as soon as possible or else it would become to strong to deal with it in a non-destructive way.

He... Didn't want to leave Binghe just yet, specially since he wanted SY's attention more than ever recently, but...

No, he needed to do this; their time together was never supposed to be eternal anyways, and if he let the virus spread, he would only be putting LBH's life in danger, and he couldn't continue living with himself after that. He decided he would fix the virus at night, while Binghe slept, and by the next morning he would be gone - he would have, after all, just enough energy to go back to the office.

He just hoped Binghe would be able to forgive him later.

When night came, and SY got to doing the usual night preparations, it just felt like an extra needle being stabbed in his heart when, while brushing Binghe's hair, Binghe looks back uncharacteristicly anxious, and asks if SY can undo the braid and remake it. SY does, and if Binghe notices SY takes extra long to pamper him that night, he says nothing.

When SY is sure Binghe is asleep, he sneaks out of his room and heads to back to Binghe's. Yeah, maybe he stalls a bit with snipping off every piece of the residual virus he came across, but one could argue he was just being extra thorough with his job.

The excuse, unfortunately, didn't last long and eventually he found himself in front of Binghe's room, staring at the door as if he was about to be sentenced to death. After a few minutes of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the doors. Binghe usually slept with the sword perched right beside his bed, so SY would probably have to use the System and put Binghe in an extra deep sleep if he wanted to make sure the other didn't wake-

The moment he places a foot inside, though, he realizes something is wrong; the room is empty, Binghe is not asleep in his bed and Xin Mo is not besides the bed. Oh, oh no, had Binghe-

"A-Yuan." Binghe says, and SY nearly jumps as he turns around. There LBH stands in the middle of the hallway, not even in his sleeping robes, with a hand clutched tightly on Xin Mo's handle. His eyes are watery but no tears spill.

SY tries to speak but finds he doesn't even know what to say, he can't even try to deny that he's up to something, since his gigantic Scissors are just out an about. Still, he tries to make Binghe understand, say that he needs to do this, and after this Binghe won't have to worry about anything anymore. Though it barely seems like Binghe is listening, and eventually just cuts in when SY starts to say anything in his panic.

"This is what A-Yuan wants, right?" He asks, extending one arm and presenting the glitched out Xin Mo. SY doesn't even have the chance to find an excuse, as Binghe immediately continues. "Than take it."

"Wh- Huh?" "Take it."

He's so shocked he almost drops his Scissors. What does he mean 'take it'??? Binghe has to know everything that's at stake here! He doesn't even know what SY wants to do with it! He tries to say that, how Binghe shouldn't just hand the sword to anyone like that, but a sudden burst of energy set his priorities straight. Shit- The virus! It's growing by the second, at this point SY will have to cut Xin Mo-

"...Binghe, I-" "I don't care what A-Yuan wants with Xin Mo! Take it, use it, break it if you want, I don't care! But if A-Yuan takes it, than he will have to stay." "Binghe, that's not..." "Why not?! That's your goal, right? Do whatever it is that you want to do with Xin Mo? Than here you go, A-Yuan can do it, but I won't let you leave me again."

SY can't even mask when his eyes dart towards the tassle on Binghe's new braid. Binghe just clenched his jaw, but it feels like confirmation enough.

He adjusts his grip on the Scissors, and, as he has nothing else to hide, dispels the System's illusion, his simple clothes glitching out to reveal the System's uniform. Binghe's eyes fill even more with tears, but none fall."

"I... I'll have to go back, Binghe." "No." "Binghe, listen to me, I-" "No. No! A-Yuan will get Xin Mo, and then he will stay." "I-" "You will stay! I can't-" Binghe can't even finish his sentence before he has to choke out a sob.

The virus starts warping the air around it, and slowly crawling up Binghe's arm. SY's decision has practically been made for him. He lifts the Scissors. Binghe pushes Xin Mo forward.

"...I'll come back." "A-Yuan-" "I'll come back, Binghe." One single tear falls and his arm jerks, not knowing if he trusts SY's words or not. He still his arm as the Scissor blades encircle Xin Mo.

"A-Yuan..." "I'll come back, I promise." "..." "I promise."

"......Okay."

Shen Yuan cuts Xin Mo.

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reignpage · 5 hours ago

Text

Piercer!Geto

Yamaha XT500: slowing down

Contents: bts of Yamaha XT500, providing context of their conversation, slight sexual language, angsty, inappropriate workplace behaviour?

You’re nervous.

The past week has been uncomfortable and awkward. Your boss was preoccupied with another girl, and you know you shouldn’t be jealous; she’s a client. But to watch him be so attentive, so patient, and so accommodating of another girl, it made your chest hurt.

There you were, sitting behind your desk with a smile, waiting to greet your boss but he’d barely glance at you, gliding past to his office without even a word. When you’d bring him coffee, he wouldn’t even look up, he’d just continue scribbling or typing on his computer.

Sure, he was busy.

Everyone was.

But it wasn’t right for him to give you so much attention the first couple months and then take it all away like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing. Your sister said it hurts a lot for you because it’s your first love, and whilst you’re not sure that what you’re feeling for Suguru is love indeed, you still appreciate that you’re new to this whole thing.

Why are men such mysteries?

How ever did Helen of Troy, or rather of Sparta, circumvent this maze?

The romance books you’ve read couldn’t give any insight. They all somehow follow the same pattern of ‘boy meets girl, they like each other, boy hurts girl, boy kisses girl, and girl forgives boy, and they live happily ever after’.

And pardon your French, but that just seems like utter lunacy!

Technically, Suguru hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s just doing his job. But he still hurt you and you can’t give in to his sweet words and pet names, no matter how they make you blush and press your thighs together.

So, after his messages insisting you have lunch together, you wait out at the front of the studio. It’s getting colder and you wish you had brought a thicker jacket, but you only have your sister’s hoodie. You hope she isn’t walking around town today otherwise she’ll rip it right off you.

It’s only fair you take her jacket when she took your heels to go to a party, sneaking past your room like the little devil that she is.

“Ready to go, pretty?”

There it is again.

That smooth tone and heart-fluttering pet name. You’re blushing again when you turn to meet his eyes. He’s so tall, kind eyes smiling at you as he closes the door. He takes a quick sweep of your figure before he sighs and drapes a scarf over your shoulders, tying a knot so that your neck is all warm and cozy.

Don’t fall for it!

You thank him and then step aside so he can lead the way. Both of you stroll through the neighbourhood, smiling at passersby and weaving around tourists who take up the entire pavement. Having watched a bunch of romance shows too, you’re painfully aware of the fact that he’s following the sidewalk rule, standing as a barrier between you and the road.

It was a seamless move, done as if on autopilot, as if he’s simply the type to sacrifice himself. He’s a really good boss. Always choosing to stay overtime to finish up on paperwork instead of letting another member of staff handle it, taking the brunt of complaints and nasty customers, and his officer door’s always open for his employees.

Except, of course, that one time when you had shut it so you could have a little…well, you don’t know what to call it. But whatever it was, it’s been stuck in your mind since then. And you can’t even count the number of times you’ve cum to the thought of it, to the feel of his hands on you.

Thank goodness your sister’s out so often.

“The weather’s taking a turn for the worse, you should start wearing thicker clothes,” he advises.

You tuck your chin into his scarf, smelling that familiar scent of musk and late nights, and the faintest hint of gasoline. When he glances down at you, you nod.

“Yeah, I will.”

Earlier in the week you had ran into your friend. She was frazzled over the lawsuit against the university and the ugly professor, hands frantically typing away and hair tied up haphazardly in her unofficial spot in the corner of the library, facing the south windows.

You hesitated to talk to her in case she was really busy and would feel burned by a conversation, but when she saw you, she let out a genuine, but strained smile. The case had been taking a lot from her. You admire her so much. Always so hardworking, so easy to approach, and so eager to help, no matter what she’s going through.

She pushed her laptop to the side and gestured for you to sit. And for half an hour straight, you complained about your problems with your boss. Looking back now, you can only cringe at the memory. How thoughtless of you. It’d be wise to avoid any pool of water, lest you fall into your own reflection.

But she still took the time to hear you out and give advice.

“I don’t really know this Suguru person, but it does sound like he was genuinely busy. I think it’d be good to hear what he has to say and go from there.”

And of course that makes sense. It’s rational, logical, the kind of thinking a law student would have. Perhaps you should have gone to a drama student who would have told you to faint in front of him and pull at his heartstrings.

Before you know it, you reach a cafe.

Suguru lets you in first, placing a hand at your back to direct you to a table by the window. It’s a seat with a great view of a park, the leaves have turned various shades of orange and red, drifting downwards in spirals, descending with grace.

You sit in front of him, unravelling the scarf and placing it on your lap. Oddly enough, as you both look over the menu, it doesn’t feel awkward like you had been expecting.

It feels normal.

Like you’ve done this a million times before.

And it’s only once the server takes your orders, that you both look at each other. He’s still smiling both with his lips and his eyes, and it’s the kindest, most reassuring smile you’ve ever seen. The kind of smile you find yourself searching for in every stranger, only to come up empty-handed.

But there’s something else there, resting on his features. The crinkles by his eyes are ever so slightly more visible, and the circles under them are just tiniest shade darker. Suguru’s really been worked to the bone recently.

“Is the campus more chaotic than usual? With the protests and all.”

You shrug. “A little. People are really upset with Eden’s decision to only suspend Professor Mahito despite the mounting evidence against him.”

Suguru nods thoughtfully, accepting the drinks that the server brings over. You’ve opted for a hot chocolate and he’s drinking coffee. He doesn’t tease you over your order of extra whipped cream like your sister does.

“And you believe the accusations?”

“Of course!” You say that with a little more passion than intended, likely feeling offended he even needed to ask. You’re embarrassed but he doesn’t laugh at you, only lifts his cup to hide his amused smile.

He’s always smiling.

But most times it never feels genuine.

After a sip of his coffee, he adds, “I believe them too. Much of the pro-Mahito rhetoric centres around his work as a professor, but not much about his character. And if I may, my run-ins with him during my time were never particularly pleasant.”

You nod. “I just hope it all gets settled on. Everyone deserves peace.”

Something about what you said pleased him because then his smile is widening and he places his cup down and leans back in his chair. You know what this means; he’s going to get serious.

The talk is going to happen now.

“About my client,” you suck in a breath, “you think she was something more?”

Biting your lip, you consider your words very carefully. “I think you gave her special attention. One that you don’t give to any other client, not even celebrities.”

The food arrives and you glance up at him before taking a bite, wondering why he isn’t answering immediately. Is he considering his words carefully too? If he is, what does that mean for you? Is he doing it because he doesn’t want to hurt you or because he doesn’t want to let you in any more than he must to keep the peace?

Your mind is racing, and you chew without even really tasting your food.

His finger taps against his fork, and then he drops his smile and sits up straight.

“You’re right. She wasn’t just another client. She was special.”

A chill pierces your chest. It stuns you, rendering you frozen, forced to bathe in the words like a cold plunge. You want to throw up and run. But you’re pinned to your seat with his steely gaze. It’s insistence, urging you to listen. You can’t look away. Not when, even at the worst moment of the time you’ve had with him, he still looks so mesmerising, a marble statue carved only with the most ardour and the brightest hope for mankind.

Suguru lets out a breath, perhaps relieved you haven’t left. At least he understands why you would. He owed you that much at least.

“There are clients,” he begins with an authoritative tone as if his words are factual and you’re captivated by the musical cadence of his warmth, like he’s telling you a bedtime story, “who come, not with money but, with stories.”

You don’t really know where he’s going but you place your cutlery down and reach for your mug of hot chocolate like its searing heat could keep you grounded, keeps you tethered to the ground and protected from his lulling voice, a pied-piper amongst normal men.

“They’ve been seen the darkness the world has to offer, ventured into places we can’t even fathom. And certainly, places I would never wish for you to have been.”

Something about his cautioning words compel you to nod.

When his fingertip touches yours and sends a tingle through your hand, following the veins, you realise he’s inched his hand closer, to feel yours, even just to feel the atoms breathe near other seems to calm him. Perhaps he needs tethering too.

“Riko was special -is- special. She’s a girl who’s been through a lot.”

You’re breathless, dazed from the feel of his skin. You want to pull away so you can have clarity of mind, but you can’t. “She’s been to those places?”

Suguru nods, a bitter flash crossing his features.

“She was running from people who wanted to take from her. Who only ever saw her as a vessel and not as a person. And she’s come very far on her own. She wanted something to remind her of who she is. Not a little girl, not a vessel or a mere victim, but a survivor.”

Your lip trembles.

The girl you had seen was so bright, she grinned with mischief and spoke with so much energy you felt invigorated just by listening, even when you didn’t want to. The extent of what she’s faced is something your mind just cannot venture to. And you’re wracked with guilt, it gnaws at your heart, squeezing in punishment.

You might throw up for a whole different reason.

This entire time you had been cursing her out in your head, feeling jealous of all the attention she was getting, but it never even occurred to you that she might have needed the attention, needed to feel normal and cared for, in the way you do.

You lick your lips, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate there and force your features to lighten. “I understand. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Suguru doesn’t look convinced, and he opens his mouth to carry on but you only press your finger to his like one would boop a baby on the nose. It’s what your father does to you and your sister when you argue, an effective way of disorienting you enough to shut you up.

It’s the first time you’ve ever done it but it works wonders because your boss only tilts his head and watches your hand do it again. His expression lightens too.

There’s a renewed atmosphere to the table, like a veil had been lifted; you hadn’t realised just how heavy it all was until you’re grinning and spooning more food into your mouth.

“She’s okay now, though?”

And when Suguru nods, you’re pleased with the answer. Truly.

Wherever Riko is, whatever she’s doing, you hope she’s safe. And above all, happy. And if she must return to Uzumaki for solace, for protection, for friendship, you swear there and then, you’d welcome her with open arms.

“Did you hear about Gojo’s fiancee?”

Suguru laughs, images of his best friend’s faces flashing in his eyes. “Have I ever? Satoru hasn’t stopped complaining. He spams me day in and day out, sends a bunch of voicemails to both my personal and work phones, and when I wouldn’t answer, he’s been showing up at work.”

You’re giggling. “I know! Nowadays he just walks in and groans at me that you’ve abandoned in his ‘time of need’, whatever that means.”

There’s a softness in his tone, even as he makes fun of his friend, and you feel its embrace when he admits, “Satoru’s always been very dramatic, but he’ll be fine.”

“My sister says his fiancee’s like the complete opposite of him, appearance-wise. Something about being goth?”

“I’ve met her,” he smirks when you gasp. “Don’t look so surprised. You forget I was once a student at Eden. She and I were classmates. And she’s going to him a run for his money.”

The conversation continues with laughter, a feather-like lightness carrying you both along. For two hours, even well after both of your plates are empty, you chat. You update him on what you’ve been up to for the past week, rambling about the most mundane things like they were a crisis and he nods along, never once interrupting, as if content to sit there for however long and listen.

And when you walk back to the studio, there isn’t a moment of silence. Not even when both of you have stopped talking.

This is perhaps the only time since you began working at Uzumaki that you’ve spoken, not as boss and employee, and not even as two people with an inexplicable tension of the sexual kind. But rather as friends.

It felt good.

To know where you stand with someone.

Sitting back down behind your desk and watching Suguru flash you another smile before he retreats into his office, you reach a conclusion.

Friendship is good for you and him.

You need it before anything else.

And those are the terms he’ll have to agree with.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #Suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru smau #suguru fluff #Suguru angst #jjk angst #jjk drabble #jjk fic #suguru drabble #suguru fic

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sugarushwriting · 2 days ago

Text

cherry popper —

sunghoon x reader

getting your cherry popped by your enemy

mature content featured, read at your own discretion

note: i know i know i said a writing schedule but this is my issue — i just want you all to read what i have planned so bad! i’ll start the schedule soon, ignore my last updated post

“you are infuriating!” you screeched, stomping your foot to the ground like a child.

“no, you are!”

“for goodness sake, you both are infuriating!” your professor interrupted your arguing with park sunghoon.

your worst enemy since middle school. now both ready to graduate university soon, nothing has changed.

you and sunghoon turned to your professor with looks of disgust towards one another. your professor has had you both in her classes for 3 semesters as you both shared a major.

“i’ve dealt with you two for too long! always arguing before, after, and during my lectures! you two can’t even stop bickering long enough to enjoy this nice class trip!” the professor rambled.

“professor, i really was trying to enjoy this trip—,” the professor cut you off

“no you haven’t! any given moment you started an argument with mr. park, knowing he will argue back. you two leave me no choice, you are to stay here in your rooms at the hotel, my assistant will be staying on the floor if you two need anything. he’ll most likely try to find a bonding exercise for you two.”

“if we stay here, that means we miss the exhibits!” sunghoon exclaimed, dark bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion, hurt, and anger towards you.

the professor shrugged. “hopefully it’ll teach you a lesson like i teach my children.” she scolded, waving her finger at both of you.

you and sunghoon stood in the hallway of the hotel dumbfounded that you would be missing the exhibit you both were so excited to view. three months you’ve been waiting for this trip!

you groaned in annoyance, “you just have to ruin everything, huh?”

sunghoon turned to you wide eyed, “me? you’re the one always starting shit between us two!”

“you could just ignore me.” you shrugged trying to place the blame all on him.

“ignore you? i’ve tried, and you never let it go. you keep pestering like an annoying little bug until i reply to you.”

your lip turned up, “listen here you little—,”

“finish that sentence and i’ll ask the hotel to make you clean toilets.” your professors graduate assistant snapped.

you and sunghoon turned around to face the young guy who couldn’t be more than 3 years older than you.

“faked being ill because my girlfriend happened to come down to the city to see me. haven’t seen her in four months as we live apart,” the assistant began explaining, “but now i have to babysit two annoying little young adults who can’t get along for nothing!”

“man, you don’t have to babysit us. we can care for ourselves.” sunghoon stated.

“and risk you two sneaking off?” the assistant shook his head.

you crossed your arms, “so what do you want us to do?”

“the hotel is low on staff in the kitchen. they just need help with dishwashing and putting together cutlery.”

“no way! i don’t want my fingers to turn into raisins!”

“that’s why gloves were invented, cherry.”

you narrowed your eyes, ready to stab sunghoon if you could, especially at the nickname he’s given you for the past year.

“you two, kitchen, now. you can go to your separate rooms afterwards. don’t snitch on me, help the kitchen out, and i’ll tell the professor you two got along well enough to be able to join in on the activities tomorrow.”

“deal.” both you and sunghoon agreed.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

it was all going well—decently well for you and sunghoon until you dropped a plate in the sink, causing the water to splash both you and him.

he splashed water back, so now you and him were banned from dishwashing and instead wrapping cutlery for future hotel guests.

about an hour later, you both were only half way done through the giant bucket of clean dishes.

“this is exhausting!” you sighed. “my neck is starting to hurt.”

“stop whining and just keep going.” sunghoon replied quietly.

“what’s got your panties in a twist?”

sunghoon dropped the fork and spoon he was holding. “mhm, i don’t know, maybe you? always starting arguments with me.”

“you’re the one who started it, park sunghoon.”

“when did i ever start? you are the one who started it back in middle school.”

“middle school? sunghoon, i never even talked to you in middle school until that day you said my hair bow was ugly.” you reminded him.

that’s when sunghoon became your enemy. maybe for a stupid reason, but as a young girl, you had tried a new hair style with a hair bow after your mom made you get a hair cut, that the salon butchered.

you were insecure about it for a while, but it only really unsettled you when sunghoon came up to you one day during lunch telling you that your ‘hair bow was ugly, and nothing can make your hair look pretty again.’

since then, you’ve always sought out to ruin park sunghoon. whether it was getting better grades, to become top of the class. becoming class president so he’d be class vice president.

or even childish things like a whoopie cushion, taking a picture of him picking his nose in private, and even starting arguments over small things.

but the biggest would have to be when you started dating his friend second to last year in high school, you two only ending the relationship a little over a year ago.

kang taehyun.

it was a sneaky move to date your enemy’s friend. but it worked in your favor as just your presence annoyed sunghoon. he started to dislike you even more then.

but it wasn’t like sunghoon and taehyun were best friends, they just happened to be in the same friend group.

sunghoon remembered the day he called your hair bow ugly. he actually didn’t think it was ugly, but he was upset about what he overheard you and your friends at the time saying about him.

then when sunghoon found out you were actually dating taehyun, he couldn’t believe it. he would tease you and only bring it up to taehyun the reasoning for you to date his friend was to annoy him.

sunghoon used to hate seeing you around all the time when he just wanted to be with his friends. he especially disliked whenever taehyun would be too handsy with you.

“i only called your hair bow ugly because you and your friends made fun of me.” sunghoon sighed deeply. his lips went into a thin straight line as he went back to his deep thinking, focused on wrapping the silverware.

you looked at him surprised and confused. “sunghoon, when did my friends and i ever make fun of you?”

sunghoon sighed once more, wanting to forget the whole incident, but knew now was probably a good, but very late time to confront you about it.

“i overheard you all laughing at the fact i was a figure skater at the time, and said something about me being feminine.”

you stood there, too much in shock. your brain racked old memories and conversations, trying to remember that exact time. as you stood and stared, sunghoon continue on with the kitchen chore.

then it hit you, and you slightly chuckled. “sunghoon, we weren’t laughing at you. we were admiring you. the fact you was a boy doing figure skating? we were so impressed! and the feminine thing was a compliment, i promise! i swear as young girls we were jealous because you had a nice body we were jealous of at the time.”

sunghoon snapped his head toward you, observing you for any chance of a lie. he saw none as you stood there and smirked.

“you really called my hair bow ugly, to upset me, because you misheard my conversation with my friends?”

sunghoon scoffed, “well i mean, as a young boy, it was hard enough being a figure skater. i was just, don’t know, very introverted and shy.”

which he still was most times.

“you aren’t introverted or shy around me, sunghoon.”

“because i can’t be. you drive me up the wall on my nerves.”

you laughed. sunghoon liked the sound. he always did.

then he asked, “did i really hurt your feelings by saying your bow was ugly?”

you nodded. “yes you did. that started a war.”

“a war between us that i think we can now end?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

after another hour, you all were close to finished when the kitchen staff let you go. rubbing your neck, you complained, excited to shower and just lay around for the rest of the night.

it was only 6 in the evening, and the exhibit went on until 9 pm, and you both were sure the professor and classmates would be off doing their own thing for the rest of the night as curfew wasn’t until 1 am.

“wanna watch a movie?” sunghoon asked, startling you. “i mean, there’s nothing else going on for us, and we could, maybe, keep each other entertained?”

you shrugged. “sure. just let me shower first. my room or yours?”

“mine. my friend and roommate, heeseung, snuck in some beer.”

you smiled. “perfect.”

half an hour later, you both were showered, in comfy clothes, and in sunghoon’s hotel room, sitting on the couch at the end of the beds watching a movie.

two drinks in, sunghoon was feeling bold. “why did you date taehyun?”

being caught off guard, you slowly turned your head, then tilted. “uh, why?”

“did you only date him because of me? to make me mad or jealous?”

“more to make you mad.” you teased with a wink.

“well congrats, you made me both mad and jealous by dating my friend.” sunghoon snickered, sipping his bottle of beer. he was no where near drunk or even tipsy. just a bit of extra courage running through his veins.

it was him watching you out of the side of his eye that got him this way. your laugh, your smile, the smell of you, so intoxicating.

you were more shocked and confused than ever. “sunghoon, what?”

sunghoon leaned down to look at your face, “taehyun used to bitch and moan that he could never get in your pants. that you would tease him, only willing to dry hump with him.”

you swallowed but rolled your eyes as well. taehyun always did complain that you never let him have sex with you. it never really bothered you.

taehyun knew you were a virgin. what he didn’t know was that whenever you thought about finally being intimate with him, all you thought about what sunghoon. all you could see was sunghoon. your thoughts were consumed of sunghoon whenever you thought anything sexual.

“why wouldn’t you have sex with your boyfriend, cherry?”

“why do you call me cherry?”

“answer me first.” sunghoon placed the bottle on the floor bedside him so he could turn his body to face you once more.

“uh, well i just didn’t want to have sex with him.” you shrugged one shoulder.

“why not?”

“eh eh, i answered you, your turn.” you tsked.

sunghoon bit his lower lip, staring at your lips as he replied, “because of that cherry lip gloss you always wear.”

you were wearing it now. not only did it look good against your skin, it tasted good too, whenever you got your nervous antics and chewed on your lip.

sunghoon always observed you putting that cherry lip gloss on your lips. it started with the cherry chapstick in high school, but just a little over a year ago you started wearing the cherry lip gloss.

“now answer me.” sunghoon demanded.

you took in a deep breath wondering how much or little to tell him. “well,”

“—was it because he wasn’t me?” sunghoon interrupted, your eyes going wide.

“sunghoon, no, what would give you that idea?”

“he told me he heard you calling out another guy’s name while playing with a toy of yours. he looked at me with anger and disbelief as if i had something to do with it.”

your eyes still wide, mouth shaped into an ‘o.’ you laughed nervously waving sunghoon off, “ah, he probably misheard me, that’s all.”

“i don’t believe you cherry.” sunghoon stated, standing up from the couch only to stand directly in front of you. eye level now with his crotch, you looked at him with innocent and confused eyes.

“sunghoon—,”

sunghoon stopped you mid sentence just by his thumbs hooking to the hem of his sweats, only pulling them down a little, teasing to pull out his cock.

“have you only kissed and dry humped him? what else have you done with him while thinking of me?” sunghoon clicked his tongue.

you shook your head. “sunghoon you’re mistaken!”

“sucked taehyun’s dick while thinking of me? mhm, even dry hump him thinking and wishing it was my lap you were rocking against?”

each sentence, sunghoon leaned in closer, mouth inches from yours. he could smell the cherry lip gloss of yours. excited to taste it finally.

you closed your eyes because—it was the truth. all of it. you blurted, “i never had sex with him because i’m a virgin!”

sunghoon chuckled, raising to his full height again. with a smirk, “mhm so my cherry was waiting to get her cherry popped by her enemy.”

you tightened your legs closer together for friction, but also to prevent yourself from becoming any wetter at just his words.

your movement didn’t go unnoticed from sunghoon. he got down on his knees in front of you. “has my cherry thought about getting ate out from her enemy? have you imagined it was me instead of taehyun going down on you?”

you shook your head, wanting to not believe this was happening. it wasn’t until you felt sunghoon’s teeth bite your thigh through your own bottoms, you snapped your eyes open.

“what was that for!”

sunghoon laughed, “be honest baby.” then, you nodded. “guess i’ll have to make your imagination become reality, huh?”

quick and easy, he got your bottoms off of your legs, and used his thumb to tease your clit through your underwear. a wet spot already beginning to form.

sunghoon’s eyes sparkled with neediness and excitement. he got up from his knees, you internally protesting, until his lips captures yours into a searing kiss.

he whispered against your lips, “so tasty, cherry,” as he continued to intensely work his lips against yours, loving the cherry lip gloss against his own lips.

he soon fell back to his knees, kissing up your right thigh before he moved your underwear to the side, poking his index finger to your cunt. he was met with tightness and some resistance, but only because it was a new feeling, new fingers for you. long, fingers to be exact.

sunghoon poked his index finger in your hole, followed by his middle finger, your legs opening wider for him, head rolling to the back of the couch with a groan. your hands gripped the couch, fingers digging into the cushions.

sunghoon then added a third finger, his ring finger, and your right leg went to hook over his shoulder, him holding your left wide open for him.

it was so much you wanted to snap your legs closed. sunghoon rocked his fingers in and out a few times, until your wetness covered his fingers, and he pulled out, quickly undressing you of your underwear. but just as quickly as his fingers were gone, it was replaced with his tongue and lips.

“sung—hoon!” you sang into a moan, left hand gripping his locks.

he moaned into your cunt, lapping up the juices you had to offer to him, occasionally using his k-9 teeth to nibble on your folds and clit. when his lips found home onto your clit, using his tongue to swirl, teeth to nibble, three of his fingers entered back into your cunt, no warning or teasing. he began rocking his fingers in and out in a medium pace, his tongue flicking your bud.

your chest and stomach began to tighten, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, head rolling onto the back of the couch from left to right. he removed his lips, fingers still, only to spit on your cunt, and got right back to work as if he didn’t pause to begin with.

this orgasm was about to be intense. taehyun never gave you mind blowing head like this. he was always decent, though. but sunghoon’s tongue was magic and had you coming way too soon.

“hoon!” you moaned loudly, hoping no one outside the door could hear you. “i’m—hoon, i—come—my goodness!” you babbled.

sunghoon used only his tongue while you came down from your first orgasm of the night.

your body jerked from the overstimulation, you pushing sunghoon’s head away.

“taste so good, cherry. better than i imagined.” he whispered once again, against your lips, before kissing you, his tongue poking through to find yours.

while kissing him, sunghoon grabbed you by your thighs so he picked you up and held you, turning around so he sat on the couch with you straddling him.

your wetness immediately started to stain his sweats, but he didn’t care. “hump me, cherry.”

“like this?” you asked. he wanted you to hump him? you bare below, him with his sweats?

you squealed when a palm of his came down to your bare ass. “it wasn’t an option, cherry.”

you nodded, biting your lip, as you began to rock your hips back and forth and in circles around his cock which was imprinting through his sweats. your cunt could feel the outline of him, getting wetter with each movement.

soon, you were on your way to your second orgasm. sunghoon’s hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements as you became more sloppy, only worried about reaching your second orgasm.

“that’s it cherry, use me like you’ve always wanted.” fuck sunghoon’s words were not (but was) helping.

your hands gripped his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as your movements increased as your orgasm was approaching.

your thighs started to become wet from your own juices, a big spot covering sungoon’s outline.

sunghoon pulled you closer as you came, he began sucking and kissing your neck, sending you over the edge even more.

your movements slowed down, as his hands stayed glued to your hips. your breathing became heavy against his collarbone, you giving it a peck, leaving a lip mark.

you’ve had two orgasms, sunghoon none. you leaned back to look sunghoon in the eyes. “what about you coming?”

sunghoon’s lips perked up, “cherry, i’ll come, don’t you worry.”

sunghoon from underneath, pulled down his sweat pants, your thighs and cunt somewhat hovering over him. you felt his tip brush against your folds, your body shivering with excitement.

you only hoped your toys prepared you enough for this moment. sunghoon pushed his sweats off as far as he could, down to his ankles. his shirt came off next, along with yours, leaving you both completely naked.

“cherry, i hope you used a dildo big enough.” he stated as he pulled a condom out from between the couch cushions. you were to entranced to even comment on that.

you bit your lip, “i hope so too, hoon.” you sighed against his lips, kissing him, as he helped you ease down on his hard cock after he put on the condom.

you bit down on his lip when he fully pushed you down on his length, a loud moan coming from you both.

“fuck, so tight cherry.” sunghoon groaned, head leaning back against the couch. “those toys did nothing to prepare you for me.”

you stayed still, both in a comfortable position. “i’m scared to move.”

“just go slow, okay?” sunghoon’s fingertips ran up and down your spine to comfort you. with a sigh of pleasure, you lifted your hips to the tip only, to slowly push back down.

you were sure you felt him in your stomach. slowly, you kept a rhythm of up and down on his length, occasionally rocking your clit forward for friction.

soon your thighs were starting to tense and become tired. “hoon, can—can you take over please?” you sighed against his cheek, nose resting in his neck.

without even removing himself from in you, sunghoon stood up from the couch, your wetness dripping in between the both of you. he carried you over to his bed, your legs wrapped around him.

he laid you on the bed, again, never slipping from inside you. his hand found one of your hips, the other resting against your cheek.

“let me know if it’s too much.” sunghoon stated before he pulled out completely only to push back with such force, your cunt squelched, your eyes shutting, a loud moan leaving your lips.

“fuck! sunghoon!”

you wasn’t expecting that. but honestly, you wasn’t expecting or even wanting him to be gentle.

for the next however long, which felt like hours, sunghoon rutted his cock in and out of your cunt with ease, your wetness spilling out on your thighs and his.

his thumb came down to your clit, rubbing left, right, up, and down, stimulating you just right to bring you to your third orgasm of the night.

“that’s it cherry, baby come on my cock. come on your first cock. fuck!” sunghoon moaned. “such a dirty slut thinking about your enemy while with that ex of yours.”

“hoon—sorry,” you apologized for no reason at all. why was you apologizing?

“wanted me to be the one to pop your cherry? got your wish.” sunghoon sighed, his pace of thrusts speeding up and becoming sloppy as he was chasing his first orgasm. “fucking whore thinking of me while playing with your toys. imagining it was me eating you out. kissing you. all while with—,”

with a loud, explosive moan, you cut sunghoon off as you came for the third time. no squirting involved, but you did have so much wetness dripping out of you, anyone could be mistaken.

sunghoon released into the condom with a low, throaty, growl-like moan, collapsing on top of you before rolling off.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

sometime in the middle of the night, you heard hush whispers. you didn’t move an inch, only somewhat, subconsciously listening.

“sorry man, i can ask her to leave?”

“absolutely not! i’ll go bunk with her roommate for this trip. once i tell her why i need somewhere to sleep she will be more than thrilled.”

it was heeseung, coming in after 3 am. once he saw you and sunghoon in the same bed, he didn’t even ask questions, only smiled.

about damn time you two fucked the anger out of one another.

sunghoon crawled back in bed next to you, your body only covered by a shirt of his. sunghoon stared at your sleeping figure with a smile.

you were finally his.

#fanfiction #engene #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #park sunghoon #reader x sunghoon #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen smut

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