#i was talking with emma and had to put my thoughts in a post

[jrob64]

Exacting His Revenge

- Chapter 3

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. To reward you for your patience, I will give you another chapter after this one, for a total of 4. (You would have gotten it anyway because I am apparently just too wordy)

Happy birthday again to @kmomof4 and thank you again to @hookedmom for betaing this story.

Story Summary: When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

Rating: M (for eventual smut in chapter 4)

Words (Ch. 3): 6666

Posted on Tumlr - Chap. 1 Chap. 2 and also on ffn and Ao3

Story found under the cut

*********

As the ship got closer to Storybrooke, Hook noticed Emma frequently glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. When the lights of the town appeared on the horizon, he saw her draw in a deep breath, turn, and walk toward the steps leading to the helm. Slowly climbing them, she looked up and met his gaze.

“Is there something I can help you with, Love?” he asked.

“I was just wondering…what do you plan to do, now that you killed Gold?”

He chuckled lowly. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

“Technically, you’re still under arrest. Now we’ll have to add escaping from jail to your charges.”

Hook reached up and scratched behind his ear. “Probably another assault charge, too.”

She widened her stance and crossed her arms. “What did you do?”

“I may have knocked your father unconscious with a pry bar.”

Rubbing her forehead in irritation, Emma sighed, “You’re a walking menace, you know that?”

“I couldn’t just sit in that concrete brig, while you were off by yourself with the bloody Dark One.”

Her eyes shot up. “You broke out of jail because you thought you had to save me?”

He dipped his head in a slight nod. “Aye.”

“Why?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“I knew what the crocodile was capable of doing. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Even though he needed you to help him navigate his way to his son, you were disposable once you found him.”

“You think he would have killed me? Knowing I had a son waiting for me back in Storybrooke?”

“He killed Milah knowing she had a son. Why would you be any different?” He watched her mull over her question. When she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Do you think Baelfire will stay in Storybrooke?”

She shrugged indifferently. “I don’t know.”

“Do you wish for him to stay?”

“I don’t, but if Henry does, I guess I’ll have to accept it. First, I have to figure out a way to tell Henry about him, though.”

“You haven’t told him about his father?”

Her face scrunched into a grimace, something that Hook found to be quite adorable. “I sort of lied to him about Neal. I told him his dad was a firefighter who died saving people from a burning building.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I would ever see Neal again. And also because I didn’t want my kid to know his father was a lying thief who abandoned me.”

Hook glanced at Bae, still sitting beside his father’s body. He was glowering at them and Hook wondered if he had heard what Emma said, or was simply angry seeing Emma talking to him.

“The lad seems to be quite adaptable. I’m sure once he hears the whole story, he’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” Emma sighed. “The thing is, it’s already complicated enough trying to juggle his time between me and Regina. If Neal is added to the mix, I’ll get to see Henry even less.”

“He does have a right to see the boy, though, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. It’s not like Neal abandoned him, too. He didn’t know I was pregnant when he took off.”

“You don’t think that the two of you, for the boy’s sake…”

“Not a chance!” Emma snapped. “Look, a lot has changed since Neal and I were together. I’ve matured and I’m assuming he has, too. But the only feelings I have for him are…well, they aren’t anything close to love, let’s put it that way.”

Hook nodded, trying to keep the happiness he felt about her declaration from showing on his face.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” she said. “I guess I just needed to blow off some steam, and you happened to be available.”

“I’m very happy to oblige, Swan,” Hook assured her.

Emma shifted her gaze forward and saw they were rapidly approaching Storybrooke. “If you want to sail away once we get Gold’s body off the ship, I won’t stop you,” she said conspiratorially.

“Why, Sheriff, do you intend to set your prisoner free?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I’m just saying that since you don’t have any reason to stay in Storybrooke…”

“Ah, but I do have a reason, Love.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “You do?”

“You promised to join me for dinner, remember?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you telling me you would give up your chance at freedom just to keep our deal?”

“A gentleman keeps his word, and as I told you atop the beanstalk, I’m always a gentleman.”

“You know I’ll have to lock you up as soon as you step foot off this ship.”

“And you know I won’t stay in that cell.”

“Seriously?”

“Pirate,” he said smugly.

“Are you going to dock the ship, Hook, or are you two going to keep making eyes at each other and let it crash into the pier?” Baelfire asked, his tone venomous.

“We don’t make eyes,” Emma said, rolling hers.

“Coulda fooled me,” he grumbled.

Hook began giving directions to the two of them, as he guided the ship into a berth. Emma was quick to follow, but Bae purposely lagged, earning him some sharp words from the captain.

Once the ship was tied off, Emma pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my dad. Hopefully, he can arrange transportation for Gold’s body as quietly as possible. I don’t want Belle to find out about his death until I get a chance to tell her.”

Hook and Bae stood on either side of her as she spoke to her father. When she ended the call, she looked from one to the other. “Are you going with me to talk to Belle?” she asked Neal.

“I thought you were going to take me to meet our son.”

“Not tonight. It’s late and he’ll be in bed.”

“But I…”

Emma angrily planted her hands on her hips. “Neal, if you want to meet him, you’re playing by my rules, got it?”

He stared at her for a few moments before dropping his eyes. “Fine. I’ll come with you to talk to Belle and wait until tomorrow to meet Henry.”

Pivoting to face Hook, she said, “You can stay on your ship tonight. If you’re still here tomorrow, I’ll deal with you then.”

“I look forward to it, Love,” he smirked.

If the look Baelfire gave him could kill, there would have been another body joining Gold’s on the deck.

*********

Hook lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling of his cabin and replaying the events of the day. It should have been the most satisfying day in his long life. Milah’s murderer was finally dead and the darkness was permanently dispelled. Milah was avenged, her soul could rest. For the first time in hundreds of years, he should be able to sleep peacefully.

Then why was he so restless?

Oddly enough, the stabbing of Rumplestiltskin and his subsequent death weren’t foremost in his thoughts. It was his interactions with Emma Swan - every word, gesture and facial expression - which were keeping him awake. She was under his skin and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He felt guilty about the direction of his thoughts. Ever since that most horrible of days, he mourned his Milah and promised anew that he would love her until the day he finally died. Sometimes he sought female companionship, but it was only ever for a single night, never with the same woman twice, and never on his ship. He didn’t want to besmirch the love he and Milah had for one another by bringing another into their bed. Now, he was lying here, his mind filled with images of a lass whom he longed to know better and whose heart he had decided to win.

“I’m sorry, Milah,” he whispered into the darkness.

Knowing sleep was going to continue to elude him, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Grabbing his flask off of the nightstand, he took a healthy swig and savored the familiar burn down his throat. Then he got up and lit the lantern on his desk. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well read.

He gave up after ten minutes. Sighing, he slammed the book closed, then donned his leather duster and ascended the ladder. He walked the decks of the Jolly Roger, rubbing non-existent smudges from her highly polished railings, double checking that her sails were folded correctly, and trying to convince himself that she was the only love he needed in his life.

The problem was, his heart wasn’t listening to logic.

Sleep didn’t come until an hour before daybreak. Thankfully, he didn’t enter REM sleep, so he wasn’t able to determine which woman would appear to him in his dreams.

*********

It was almost noon when Emma made it back to his ship. “Still here, I see,” she called up to him from where she stood on the pier.

“I assured you I wasn’t going to leave.”

She eyed him critically. “Are you alright? You look like hell.”

“Why, thank you very much, Swan. How kind of you to notice.”

“I thought you would be the happiest person on Earth, now that you’ve finally gotten your revenge.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps the day was too stimulating to allow me to sleep well.” Seeing her about to speak again, he cut in. “Where is Baelfire this morning?”

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head disgustedly. “I already regret bringing him here. He’s driving me crazy, asking to meet Henry.”

“You haven’t introduced the two of them yet, I take it?”

“No. Henry was at Regina’s last night and was off to school before I woke up this morning. Neal thinks I should pull him out of school. I keep telling him I want the chance to talk to Henry first, but he’s really pushing it. I managed to sneak away from him while he and Belle were making arrangements to bury Gold.”

While she was talking, Hook was making his way down the gangplank to stand in front of her. “I have no doubt you will stand your ground against him, Love.”

“I know. It’s just…things were good between me and Henry since Mary Margaret and I got back to Storybrooke. Now I have to tell him I lied to him and I’m afraid he’s going to hate me.”

Hook’s mind flashed to Baelfire’s reaction when he discovered the drawing of Milah in the captain’s quarters. His words were full of hatred and betrayal. To this day, he hadn’t forgiven him. Hook certainly hoped Henry wouldn’t react the same way.

Hoping to divert Emma’s worries, he asked, “How did Belle take the news last night?”

“Just as you would expect; she’s devastated. She was relieved to know that Gold found his son before he died. We didn’t tell her Neal was furious with his father for killing his mother and refused to forgive him. I’m assuming Belle didn’t know Gold’s role in Milah’s death.”

“Do you think if she did, she would have ever become involved with the bloody demon?”

“No, probably not. Belle tries to find the best in everyone, but hearing that bit of news might have been too much for even her.”

“You told her the, uh, the circumstances of his death?”

“Yeah. Let’s just say you’re definitely not her favorite person. She’s still recovering from the gunshot wound you gave her and now you killed her boyfriend.”

Hook grimaced. Thinking of the Dark One as someone’s ‘boyfriend’ turned his stomach. Not wanting to think about Rumplestiltskin anymore, he changed the subject. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning, Swan?”

“I have to take you back to jail. Everyone in town knows you’ve returned. Letting you go free after you shot someone isn’t going to sit well with them.”

“Even though I rid your fair town and the world of the Dark One’s power?”

“The people in town don’t know that yet. Belle isn’t planning to tell them until after Gold is buried. I’m sure the news will leak out soon. Until then, I don’t want Leroy running around town yelling, ‘Killer on the loose! Killer on the loose!’”

Reaching around behind her back, she extracted handcuffs and held them up between them.

“Again?” Hook sighed. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“Standard procedure,” she explained. “Hand and hook behind your back.”

With a dramatic display of reluctance, he did as told. They walked down the pier and onto the beach, then over to the squad car in a moment of deja vu.

On the way to the sheriff’s station, Hook asked, “How is your father, Swan?”

“He has a headache and a good sized lump on his head, but he’ll be fine. You’re not his favorite person, either. In fact, you don’t have many people on your side in this town, which is why I figured you would take the opportunity to leave when I offered it to you.”

“There’s only one person I wish to have on my side, Love. I couldn’t care less about anyone else.”

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re really adamant about having that dinner with me, aren’t you?”

“I would never have allowed the bloody crocodile aboard my ship if you hadn’t agreed to that. I fully intend to collect what is owed to me.”

“You might have to settle for Granny’s takeout in your cell, while I eat at my desk.”

“I believe the deal was dinner on my ship.”

“Yeah, well, you might be locked up for quite a while, depending on what Regina says.”

“What does Regina have to do with it?”

Emma pulled up to the station, put the car in park and turned it off. Twisting in her seat, she said, “We don’t have a court system in Storybrooke, so the mayor decides on punishment for crimes. That’s the way she set it up during the curse and we never changed it. Considering the fact you killed her mother, I doubt Regina will be lenient toward you.”

“Regina and I had…an understanding before the curse was cast. I’m sure she will consider that.”

“What sort of understanding?” Emma asked.

Hook leaned forward, putting his face close to the divider between the front and back seat. “Let’s just say we also had a deal. It took a while, but I finally kept my end of it.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You made a deal with Regina to kill her mother?”

“The two of them never had what you might call a close mother-daughter relationship.”

“Just when I thought I heard it all,” Emma mumbled, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the car door.

After releasing him from the back seat, she walked him into the station, her hand gripping his elbow. Upon entering the main area, David rose from the desk, strode across the room and punched Hook in the face.

“Dad!” Emma yelled.

“That’s for the last time we met,” David said, shaking his hand slightly.

Hook licked his bloodied lip before replying, “I thought you might be a bit more genial, considering I brought your daughter home safely.”

“You knocked all the genial out of me when you hit me with that crowbar.”

Emma led Hook across the room, removed the cuffs, unlocked the cell and gestured for him to enter. Dabbing at his lip, he walked in, winking at her as he passed. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he detected the hint of a smile on her face.

She slammed the door closed, then turned as an afterthought. “I almost forgot. Give me your hook.”

“If you want to hold something, Love, I have a perfectly good hand,” he offered slyly, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers.

She huffed, but he saw the corners of her mouth turn up again. “Just hand over the hook, funny guy.” As he twisted the hook out of the brace, she added, “And while you’re at it, give me whatever you used to pick the lock last time.”

“I thought you didn’t care if I escaped and sailed away, Swan.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave until I kept my part of the bargain.”

“Ah, yes, our dinner together,” he said, glancing toward David as he said it. His reaction to Hook’s statement didn’t disappoint.

“Your what?” he shouted.

“Calm down, Dad,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I had to make a deal with him so he would agree to bring Gold back to Storybrooke. It’s just dinner.”

“On my ship,” Hook contributed.

“On his ship?!”

Emma threw Hook a frustrated glare, before turning to her father. “I’ll say it again - it’s just dinner. And it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. Regina will have to decide what to do with him. In fact, I need to go to her office to bring her up to speed.”

David checked his watch. “I’m supposed to be over at the cemetery in ten minutes to guard against anyone going in while they’re burying Gold.”

Emma sighed. “We probably shouldn’t leave Hook alone. Can you get Leroy to come over and keep an eye on him again?”

“Is that really necessary?” Hook asked.

David narrowed his eyes at Hook for several seconds before picking up the phone.

Turning back to Hook, Emma stated, “Guess that answers your question. Now, hand it over.”

With a dramatic sigh, he passed his hook through the bars into her waiting hand. She accepted it, then held up her other hand. He threw her his most charming smile, but she just tilted her head and speared him with another meaningful glare. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and removed the long hairpin.

As she accepted it, she asked, “Why do you have this thing, anyway?”

“As you can imagine, managing all of these buttons one-handed is quite difficult, so I use that to help pull them through the buttonholes.”

“I think you missed a few,” she murmured.

“Ah, so you’ve noticed,” he cheeked.

She turned away, but not before Hook saw the blush that colored her cheeks. With a satisfied smirk, he crossed the cell and took a seat on the cot.

David left before Leroy arrived, giving Hook some time alone with Emma. “Do you have a preference of what to eat for our dinner together, Swan?”

“You’re awfully presumptuous, thinking you’ll be out of jail anytime soon.”

“I did Regina a favor by killing Rumplestiltskin. I have a feeling she’s going to take that into consideration when she decides my fate.”

“People in town love and respect Belle. They won’t be happy if you get off scot-free for shooting her.”

Hook scuffed his boots back and forth on the floor. “I do feel bad for shooting the lass. I’m glad I only wounded her.”

“At least you’re remorseful,” Emma remarked.

Before Hook could respond, Leroy burst into the office. “I’m here, Sister,” he blustered. Walking straight up to the bars of the cell, he spouted, “No funny business. I’m watching you, Pirate.”

Hook stood and sauntered over to stand in front of him, “Yes, Dwarf. That should deter me from any malfeasance.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Emma said.

Leroy and Hook continued glaring at each other for several seconds, until Leroy broke eye contact to say, “Charming didn’t tell me why he isn’t able to be here. Is he out on a call?”

Emma and Hook exchanged a quick look. “Um, yeah. Something like that,” Emma mumbled vaguely.

“Well, as long as one of you is back by dinner time. Granny will run out of bacon for my burger if I get there too late.”

“It looks like you could afford to forgo dinner now and then,” Hook muttered.

“Behave yourself, Hook,” Emma cut in before Leroy got a chance to respond.

After she left, Leroy sat down and began swiveling in the chair, keeping an eye on Hook. “So, I’m assuming you followed Sheriff Swan to New York after you knocked out her father?”

“You must be the smart dwarf,” Hook said, resuming his spot on the cot.

“Then how are the two of you back, but there’s no sign of Gold? Did you leave him in New York?”

“I have no idea of the Dark One’s location.” He wasn’t technically lying. The darkness dissipated, but he didn’t know where it went.

Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. “You expect me to believe that?”

Hook shrugged. “It makes me no difference what you believe. I went to New York to ensure Swan’s safety and as you can see, I accomplished that objective.”

Leroy leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sweet on the sheriff?”

Hook very deliberately laid down and turned toward the wall, his back facing the dwarf.

“Because if you are, you’re never going to get her,” Leroy continued. “Her parents and most of the town won’t allow it. She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.”

Hook closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep so he wouldn’t have to listen to the grumpy man any longer. It didn’t work. Even though Leroy stopped talking, the last words he said kept replaying themselves over and over in Hook’s mind.

She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.

*********

Word of Gold’s death did indeed leak out, and soon the entire town was aware that they were free of the Dark One forever. Besides expressing their condolences to Belle, they didn’t show any signs of sadness over his loss.

Neal was greeted with trepidation. Granny reluctantly offered him a room at the boarding house and reassured the townspeople that she would keep an eye on him. If he showed any inkling of being like his father, she wouldn’t hesitate to use her crossbow.

Regina stopped in at the sheriff’s station the day after the ship arrived back from New York. After telling David she needed to speak to Hook privately, she stepped in front of his cell and glared at him through the bars.

“Your Majesty,” he drawled. “Or should I say ‘Madam Mayor’?”

“Is it true you’re responsible for my mother’s death, Hook?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Word gets around. Now answer the question.”

“Aye, Love. I finally carried out your noble request.”

“Once the curse was cast, the request was null and void.”

“I wasn’t made aware of any alteration in plans or any changes in your feelings toward your mother. Just because I didn’t do it when you initially sent me to do so, the result is still the same. Now don’t try to tell me you grieve her passing, or that you would have welcomed her to Storybrooke with open arms.”

Regina’s mouth tightened into a straight line before she answered, “You know I didn’t want her here.”

He gave a slight nod. “That’s correct, so I did you a favor. And another by killing Gold. I’d say you owe me, Your Majesty.”

“I suppose you think I should give you some huge reward,” she growled. “What’s your price, Hook?”

He rose from the cot and slowly moved to stand in front of her. “My freedom will do nicely.”

Regina’s perfectly groomed eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s all you want? That doesn’t sound like the greedy pirate I know.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My life’s goal has been met. I have enough doubloons to last me for another three hundred years. What more could I possibly need?”

She crossed her arms and studied him. “If I grant your freedom, I assume you will leave town.”

“Never assume anything.”

“Why would you stay?”

Hook studied his fingernails. “I don’t believe my plans are any of your business.”

“I’m the mayor of Storybrooke. Everything is my business.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You might control your townspeople, but…”

“I brought lunch, Hook.” He looked over Regina’s shoulder to see Emma coming into the room, holding a brown paper bag aloft.

Regina heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned to look over her shoulder. “Didn’t your idiot father tell you I wanted to speak to Hook without being interrupted?”

“I haven’t seen David,” Emma replied coolly. “I’ve been out on patrol all morning. I’m happy to report no one is breaking any laws.”

“No one except him,” Regina said, jerking her head towards Hook.

Emma set the bag of food on the desk. “Well, he’s locked up, so I don’t think we’ll have to worry about him.”

“Apparently he broke out once before and he’s a pirate. Locking him up doesn’t guarantee he won’t break out.”

“He doesn’t have any reason to break out this time, do you, Hook?”

“Alas, no. All of my objectives have been met.”

“I still don’t trust him,” Regina said.

“You needn’t worry, Madam Mayor. Your sheriff is quite efficient,” Hook said. “She particularly enjoys using her handcuffs on me, don’t you Swan?”

He was satisfied to see her cheeks turn pink. She changed the subject by asking, “Have you decided on his punishment yet?”

“Perhaps she’ll sentence me to house arrest with you. Do you have a spare bed? If not, I’m willing to share.”

Regina looked back and forth between them, her mouth set in a firm line. “Miss Swan, if you don’t mind, I haven't finished speaking with your boyfriend.”

Hook suppressed a chuckle, as Emma’s mouth dropped open. “My boyfriend? Hook? What’s your problem, Regina?”

“My problem,” Regina spat, “is that you’re impeding my job.”

“Fine,” Emma shot back. “I’ll be in the other room, eating lunch. When you finally finish your job, let me know.” Picking up the sack, she turned on her heel and went into the small inner office, slamming the door behind her.

Seeing her stand up to Regina filled Hook with pride and more than a little desire. Emma Swan was fiery and fierce, just the way he liked his women.

With effort, he turned his attention back to Regina. She was drumming the manicured fingernails of her right hand on her left bicep. “I’m willing to bet one of your reasons for remaining in Storybrooke involves Miss Swan.”

“I would have never guessed you were one for gambling, Your Majesty.”

She glared at him as Hook stared back at her unflinchingly, plastering a bored look on his face. After nearly a minute, she called loudly, “Sheriff Swan, come out here!”

Emma emerged, chewing and rubbing her hands on her jeans. “You bellowed?”

“I do not bellow,” Regina remarked snarkily. “I’ve come to a decision about this prisoner. He needs to be punished for the attempt he made on Ms. French’s life. Therefore, I sentence him to one month in jail. By that time, maybe he’ll be ready to board his ship, sail away and be some other realm’s problem.”

With that, she spun around and walked out the door, heels clicking on the cement floor.

Emma watched her go, then turned to face Hook. “Looks like you’re going to be our guest for a while longer.”

“Aye, but at least my jailer is a welcome sight to behold.”

“You told me you won’t stay in this cell. Do I need to make sure someone is here to watch you around the clock? Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase you down every other day.”

“As tempting as it is to have you running after me, I give you my word as a gentleman that I will not escape.”

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him to detect any trace of deceit. Finding none, she said, “Don’t make me regret trusting you, Hook.”

He wrapped his hand around the bars of the cell. “You’re going to take my advice and try something new, eh Swan?”

Hooking her thumbs in the back pockets of her jeans, she shrugged. “You went all the way to New York to make sure I was safe, and didn’t leave when I gave you the chance. I guess you’ve earned my trust.”

Hood couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. The fact that she trusted him was definitely a step in the right direction toward winning her heart. He reached through the bars and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, enjoying the silky feel of it against his calloused skin. “I’m very happy to hear that, Love.”

She was just opening her mouth to reply, when Baelfire entered the room. Hook’s eyes shifted to the other man, causing Emma to look over her shoulder. As soon as she saw Neal, she stiffened.

Bae stopped short when he saw how close the couple was standing. Then he saw that Hook had a lock of Emma’s hair wrapped around his finger and his face turned crimson.

“What’s going on here, Ems?” he blustered.

“Nothing,” she answered tightly.

“Doesn’t look that way to me. Looks like the fucking pirate is trying to seduce you, just like he did my mother.”

“Give it a rest, Neal. He’s behind bars and that’s where he has to stay for a month.”

“A month?” he shouted. “That’s all he gets for killing my father?”

“Actually,” Hook began, “that sentence is for shooting Belle French. Regina felt I did the town a favor by ridding it of the Dark One.”

“What the fuck? You’re just going to get away with murder?” Neal raged.

“Oh, come on, Neal,” Emma groaned. “You’re the one who said to just let your dad die. Now you want to act like the grieving son? I don’t buy it.”

He walked over to stand in front of the cell, looking back and forth between Hook and Emma. Hook untangled his finger from her hair and pulled his hand back. As much as he wanted to smirk at the angry man, he decided it was best not to add fuel to the fire. He didn’t want to put Emma in an even more uncomfortable position.

Bae turned his back toward Hook and tried to step between Emma and the bars. “Isn't it about time for Henry to come home from school, Ems?”

She heaved a sigh and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “School lets out in half-an-hour. Once my dad gets back to the station, I’ll leave to go pick Henry up.”

“Cool. I’ll come with you.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and fixed him with a fierce scowl. Hook was quite happy not to be on the receiving end of it. “No, you will not. I’ve already told you that I need to talk to Henry first. I want to prepare him to meet you.”

“What’s there to prepare? You just say, ‘Henry, this is your father.’ What’s so hard about that?”

“For fuck’s sake, Neal! He thinks his father is dead!”

“Why the hell would he think that?” Neal yelled.

“Because that’s what I told him! I said you were a firefighter who died as a hero…”

Neal leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from hers. “What the fuck, Emma? Why would you do something so idiotic?”

Emma didn’t back away from him as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Would you rather I told him that his dad was a thief and a liar who abandoned me and let me go to jail for a crime he committed?”

When Hook saw Neal grasp Emma’s arms, he had enough. “Let go of her, Bae!” he demanded, reaching through the bars to grab the other man’s jacket.

“Stay out of this, Hook!” Baelfire shouted, jerking away from Hook’s grip, letting go of Emma at the same time. “She’s not yours to protect!”

“She’s not yours, either!” Hook shot back.

“That’s enough!” Emma exclaimed. “Neal, you need to leave. After I’ve had a chance to talk to Henry, I’ll call you. That is, if he wants to meet you today. If he needs more time to process everything, that’s what he’ll get. And you will agree to it, or you won’t meet him at all. Is that clear?”

“I came all this way and he’s my son. You can’t keep me from seeing him.”

“I can and I will if you don’t back off. Go back to your room at the boarding house and wait for me to call.”

Hook watched carefully to see what Baelfire would do next. If he continued to defy and bully Emma, Hook would find some way to get out of the cell and go to her aid.

After several more moments of glowering at Emma, Bae finally stomped out of the office, nearly running into David, who was on his way in.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

“He’s demanding to see Henry and I’m making him wait. I need to talk to Henry first.”

David took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. “I can understand his impatience. He just found out he has a son; it’s only natural to be anxious to meet him.”

“You’re taking his side?” Emma asked.

“I didn’t realize you two are on opposite sides. I thought you were, um…”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Do you think we’re together?”

“Well, you do have a child together and you just found each other again after so many years.”

She put her hands on her hips. “If I had my way, I would have never seen him again.”

David’s jaw dropped. “But Mary Margaret and I thought the two of you…”

“Well, you thought wrong!” she spouted, then angrily grabbed her keys and pushed past him.

He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the door through which she just disappeared. Almost to himself, he murmured, “I’m so confused. Why wouldn’t she want to…”

“Be with Baelfire?” Hook interrupted. “Have you ever asked your daughter about the father of her child?”

David turned around, the look on his face making it clear the answer to Hook’s question was ‘no’. Instead, he said, “That’s none of your business.”

“Perhaps not, but Emma did share with me what happened between them, and let’s just say she has good reason not to want to be with him.”

“Why would she tell you and not her mother and I?”

Hook shrugged. “I think she felt a bit…trapped by the whole situation of him coming to Storybrooke and she wanted to share her side of the story with someone. I just happened to be available.”

“Did he hurt her?”

“Not physically, but that’s all I’m going to say. It’s not my story to tell.”

David eyed him critically for several seconds, then stepped closer to the cell. “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never gonna like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, how could she? You’re nothing but a pirate.” With those words, he spun on his heel and walked away.

The cocky smirk on Hook’s face faded as he watched David go. For the second time in two days, he had been told that Emma Swan would never be with him because he wasn’t good enough for her. The one consolation he had was that neither time, it was Emma who said it. He would have to cling to the hope that she didn’t feel the same way.

*********

Hook didn’t expect to see Emma any more that day, so when she came into the station soon after he finished eating the meal Granny provided, he was pleasantly surprised. However, seeing the agitated state she was in, his pleasure soon turned to concern.

“I thought I was finishing out this shift,” David said.

“I know, but I figured you would want to spend the evening with Mary Margaret, and since Henry is staying at Regina’s…”

“What? Why is he doing that? I thought you were introducing him to Neal.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say things didn’t go as planned,” she said sadly.

“Emma, if you need to…”

“Look, Dad,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll be home in a couple of hours, okay? Maybe by then, I’ll be ready to tell you what happened.”

Hook thought David was going to argue with her, but after a few moments, he blew out a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll see you at home. Be careful.” After kissing her forehead, he gave Hook a warning look, then left.

Emma dropped into a chair, threw her head back and groaned.

“Alright there, Swan?” Hook asked.

She was motionless for so long, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she sat up and put her head in her hands. “Not really. Henry is very pissed at me for lying to him. He had no interest in meeting Neal and insisted on going to Regina’s because he doesn’t want to be around me. Then when I called Neal, he went off on me, saying it was all my fault his son refused to meet him.”

“I’m sorry, Love.”

She didn’t reply. He felt helpless seeing her sitting there, looking so defeated.

When she finally stood up, she paced back and forth in front of his cell. “Why did I ever think I could do this? I know nothing about being a mom. I probably screwed him up for life. First I gave him away, then I lied to him about his father…”

“Emma, stop,” Hook said firmly.

She stood still, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. It sounds to me like you made a very courageous decision by giving him up for adoption. Bae abandoned you and left you with very little choice. As far as telling him Baelfire was dead, you had no idea Henry would have a chance to meet him someday. You wanted to spare him the pain of knowing his father was a bloody coward, just like his own father before him. In my opinion, there was nothing wrong with telling Henry he was a hero. It was far kinder than the truth.”

“He was so angry,” she whispered hoarsely. “He may never forgive me.”

Hook’s heart ached for her. “Come here, Love,” he said softly, stretching his hand out through the bars.

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Emma, look at me,” he coaxed.

Slowly, she raised her eyes. Even more slowly, she reached forward to place her hand in his. He gave a little tug to pull her closer. When she was near enough, he attempted to put his arms around her, frustrated that the cell bars were between them.

“This is stupid,” she said, turning her back and walking away. He almost groaned in frustration, until he realized she was pulling a set of keys out of the desk drawer. She approached the cell again, hesitating briefly before unlocking the door. After swinging it open, she stood uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot.

Hook stepped through the doorway and into her space. Locking eyes with her, he silently asked permission and upon receiving it, gently pulled her into his arms.

At first, her body was stiff and unyielding, but as he rubbed his hand and wrist up and down her back, she gradually relaxed and let him comfort her. “You’re a good mother, Emma. Henry knows that, and he will forgive you.”

“How can you be so sure?” she mumbled into his chest.

“Because I know first-hand how hard it is to stay away from you.” He heard her scoff lightly, but she didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how long she let him hold her, but he relished every second.

Finally pulling away from him, she said, “Thank you, Hook.”

Using his finger to lift her chin, he looked into her beautiful jade eyes and requested, “Will you please call me Killian, Love?”

She blinked, then gave him a small smile. “Okay…Killian.”

*********

Thank you for reading! The final chapter is probably about half written, so hopefully it won't be as long a wait for it.

Tagging:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling

@andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27

@undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat

@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

@apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate

@caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie

@beckettj @killihan-jones

[heavensickness]

Some thoughts about the LIs & their living conditions:

Kuras: Only homeowner with an actual, permanent space to live in. I think he would have a living space connected to his clinic, maybe upstairs? He probably doesn't need to eat but he has to afford other important things such as medical supplies, clothes etc. but being the angel he (literally) is, he doesn't charge his patients. So how he makes a living? 1) We know that he does some "work" with Leander, so he maybe gets Leander to acquire medical supplies for him. 2) Scamming the Senobium people. I love that chaotic man

Mhin: Only one who has a profession that they actually make a living out of. They get their paychecks & leave. Attracted to men, women and the bag. Call them biflexual. They probably stay at inns without a permanent place to go. Maybe Leander also helped and offered them a room at the Wick when they first arrived Eridia, but they left the moment they got some coins. Can you imagine staying in a room every night listening to bar brawling & Leander getting head from someone random. I would go insane

Leander: I have thousands of different theories about this man, I can't count them all here. Only thing I am sure about is that he is living in the Wick, aka occupying a room there for an indefinite time being. How does he make a living? W̵̫̣̻̲͂̍̈́̀̂̀̏o̷̜̗̣̳͚̘̓̇̐̄̏u̷̺͕̘̬̭̰͑̀̑̓̃͊̋͘͘l̵̦̫͗͐̊̔̅̾̕͘͝͠͠d̷̳̦̩̫͙̱͉͓̜̱̞̝̬̐̓ͅņ̶̛̫͕̦̯͎͓͍̠̝̼̼͊͠'̶̯̹͍̹̳͈̬͕̔̀͛ţ̵͙̖̳̳̗̠̪̭̹̑̿͊̏̈͛͠͝͠ ̷͎͔͕͎͍̱͖̞̲̣͍̊̋̉́̔̔̄̈́̅͊̂͝y̵͖͚̣͎̳̓͂̈̾̿͋̎̾͊́͘̕͘ờ̶̝͍̰̤͎͓̼͕̏̀̅̽̓̀̇̉̅̈́͋̄ͅu̴̯̳̾ ̵̼̣̙̐̓̄̊̈́̄͌̒̇̓̽͌̇̊l̵̨͇̬͉̳̓ͅi̷̬͈̜͉̳̯̻̲͗͋͑̉̈́ķ̴͍̪̲̝͎͓͗è̸͕̹͕̹̙̹͓ ̷̛͙̳͙̭̙̋̎̌ͅt̸̖̫̫̪̜̲̤̹̫̤͎̲̄͆͂̋́̈͑͑͂̃̄̔̀͜o̶͖̯̱̙̗͎̘̬͚̩̯̜̲͋́̃̎̈́́̄̌͑̈́͊̕̚͠͝ ̷̛͔͕̣̗̟͕̦̺̬̪̙͔̊̈́̓̿̐͐͠͝k̶̠̘̗̘̜̻̝̓̈̈́̐̈́̒̀̿̒̿͘̚n̷̛̳̜̭͔̦͎͖̠̥̯̳̈̈́͂͛͌̄́́͌́̈́̂̚ͅo̴̢̡̝̼͓̓̈̈́̍͒̿̽̂͋̈́̀́̑͋̕ẅ̷̤͕͇̳̰͔̬̲̒́̇̈́̌̒͐̕͠͠?̷͓͉͓͋̿͆̓̆̋́̕͝

Ais: This man is just squatting at the Seaspring temple. He said finders keepers. He can avoid paying taxes though, so good for him. His interior includes 2 pillows (one chewed off by a Soulless and is covered in saliva), 2 blankets, a kettle, and a ridiculously classy teacup set. Who knows where he got it from. You know the sight when you would go to a guy's bachelor house while in university? That's the picture. This is why Vere never goes over to his place, because he can't stand the smell of BROKE (and wet dog fur). Where does he get money? Uhhh robbing the people he beat the shit out of? Let me know if you have any other solid theory on this topic bc this man isn't making any coins.

Vere: Ahh yes, my favorite classy bitch. His outfit costs more than your annual income. He hangs out in the Hightown, goes to operas, knows everything about expensive wine and champagne, and eats wagyu steak for dinner. How does he afford his lifestyle? I like to think that he buys or does anything he wants, and when it is time to pay he just tells people to add it on Senobium's tab. Tf Senobium people are gonna do when they find out? Demand him to pay? When they are making him work like a hunting dog and definitely not paying him shit in return? They literally put this man on a LEASH. I hope Vere buys anything and everything his little heart desires. Second opinion would be a high class, aristocratic sugar mommy/daddy from Hightown. *Bree Runway voice* "Do you know what a girl like me cost?"

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

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

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

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

word count: 21,858

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

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

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

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

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

Or to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon cries again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

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

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

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

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

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

“Open the boot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

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

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

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

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

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

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

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

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

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

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t respond. 

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

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

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

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, me too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

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

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

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

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

“The longest of my life.” 

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

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

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

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

“You’re disgusting.” 

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

“Shut up.” 

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

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

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

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

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums, nodding his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.” 

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

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

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

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

“How are your notes so good?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You seem fine to me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.” 

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

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

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

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

Yeonjun did.

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

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

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

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

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

you: i’ll try..

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

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

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

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

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re distracting.”

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

“Are you going to get that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[chrissdollie]

rapper!chris x singer!reader hcs

a/n: lowkey a collab with @bambi-slxt bc of all the headcanons she sent me LMAOO thank u sweets!! <3

SFW

chri$ is definitely one of the more "soft" rappers. everyone knows that hes a lovesick puppy for you. he doesnt have ONE line including the words "my bitch". instead he replaces them with "my girl" OR "my wife" :((

i think he would 100% make an album fully dedicated to you. kinda like tyler the creator's "call me if you get lost" in a way. for example, in the song "HEAVEN TO ME", tyler explains his dreams. chris would rap about all of the things he wants to do with you and how he sees you in his life forever

he has many features on peace on the beach with my peach since its partially about your guys' sweet relationship! theres moments in the record where there are beautiful beats paired with your heavenly vocals and cute voice cracks while chri$ is dropping barssss (ill make a post ab lyrics i think he'd add)

sososososo supportive of your creative journey. he was with you as you wrote and planned out your extremely personal debut. he even helped out at the studio :c

but then you started adventuring some time after your 2nd-3rd album. you started experimenting with different genres/styles. you created storylines and visuals along with your music.

out of the two of you, chri$ is definitely more famous. anyhow, he got invited to the met gala and had u has his plus one obviously, where you both looked drop dead gorgeous!! i literally cannot see him wearing a basic ass suit and tie to the met. he has to be on your level and match your uniqueness which make you two stand out so much!

when you both got up the steps, he was being interviewed by emma chamberlin, who was also a fan of his. she asked about the creative process of his newly released album and he totallyy put you in the spotlight, saying "yn helped me a lott honestly. she's... literally a genius." he grins, turning to you while keeping his hand on your waist.

you guys like toying with the paparazzi when they're bothering you. you goofballs make silly faces right in the cameras so they back off

one time when you were being interviewed, your sweet boy wrapped his arms around your waist as he listened to you talk. you were a little nervous and stuttered a bit, but chris consoled you by rubbing small circles into your waist and whispering a gentle "it's okay baby" to your ear.

you fangirl on stage when you catch your boyfriend's eyes in the front row. sometimes you entirely stop what you're singing just to giggle and squeal "hiiii honey!!" while twirling your hair like a little girl. the audience cheers with screams when they realize chris is with them in the crowd-- but feels like its only you two in the stadium when he blows you a kiss (some corny shit he never thought he'd do) and mouth the words "i love you".

for the holidays, u two visit homeless shelters and childrens hospitals and perform for everybody <3

imagine just hanging out at the studio with him and your guys' friends. he's manspreading on a leather couch while massaging your feet resting in his lap as you write lyrics in your lap, your friends helping you out as you do.

you knew that somewhere down the line there was going to be some kind of beef. a popular rapper decided to call out chris for something he did years ago as a literal child. you both ignore it until he sends out a tweet about you. something around, "nd his bitch bad asf id hit fs but she a fuckin weirdass childish mf"

you ignore the fact he called u a "weirdass childish mf", you cant care less, many people dont vibe with ur ideas and thats okay!

u do however care about how his girlfriend would react to seeing him wanting to fuck you. and you'd met her before too, she was a little snobbish, but respectful nonetheless. you joked to your boyfriend about dropping your own diss track on him, but he actually seem intrigued. you shut it down almost immediately though, you didn't wanna make something small such a big deal

but at the next big event you guys went to, you found the rapper's girlfriend and showed her his tweet. she thanked you with a furious scowl on her face before she ran off and slapped the shit out of him in front of everybody

chris gets a custom made $5k chain that has ur name and little details that remind him of u around it :((

NSFW

speaking of that chain, he wears it whenever he pounds into you so you'll be reminded of how he's yours.

chris loves ur vocals so much on stage! he finds them beautiful, but he loves them even more in bed.

"cmon mama lemme hear that pretty voice"

in fact, you two created a song just to have playing in the background while you two get intimate

chris audio recorded him eating u out once and you saying, "oh, fuck chris, it's so good!" and he decided to use that as an adlib in his favorite songs OR disses he wrote about someone being a jerk to u

watching chris perform did things to you. seeing him sweat, brushing his gorgeous hair out of his face, putting in so much energy into his performance... it's intoxicating! sometimes you wish he'd just drop the mic, pull you onstage, and make love to you infront of the world.

he talks about marrying you while he's balls deep inside of your wet cunt :( saying how he wants to drop a humongous bag on your ring, give you the wedding of your dreams, and how he desperately wants to hear "missus sturniolo" from others' mouths

chris will totally pop up behind stage after a show and guide you to your dressing room not so subtly. you apologize to your manager before rushing to your private room like a giddy teenager. "wanna see her sweetheart, she wet for me righ' now? oh, there she is.." he coos as he bends down to his knees right in front of your pussy when you pull down your pretty pink stage costume.

@leah-loves-lilies @1everythingmustgo @star-sturn @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee@freshsturns@emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668 @chrissturnsss @joanofarcily @mattscoquette @slutsturn @sturnioloremarker @ashley9282828 @jnkvivi @sturncakez @lanasturn @riasturns @st7rnioioss @strnlxlqve @starlace111 @mattsfavbigtitties @stvrlighht

[st4rtar0t]

Describing your love trope with your future spouse as a writer

Pick a picture

MASTERLIST ☆ PAID SERVICES

LONG POST AHEAD!

Pictures belong to their rightful owners, I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

Arranged blind date

I stared at my reflection, the dress clinging to my frame in a way that was both flattering and unfamiliar. It had been months since I’d worn anything other than sweatpants and old t-shirts. My heart pounded as I thought about the evening ahead. What had I let Emma talk me into?

“Trust me, y/n,” she had said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You deserve someone who treats you right. This guy is perfect for you.”

I wanted to believe her. After all, Emma knew me better than anyone. She had seen me through the worst of my relationship with Adam, watched as I shrank into myself, convinced I was unworthy of love and respect. She had been my rock when I finally walked away.

Now, she was determined to help me move on, even if it meant dragging me into the world of blind dates.

“You look stunning,” Emma said, stepping into my bedroom. Her smile was warm and reassuring. “And you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. “What if he’s... I don’t know, another Adam?”

Emma shook her head firmly. “He’s not. Trust me. I’ve known him for years. He’s kind, funny, and he’s been through his own share of heartbreak. You two will understand each other.”

Taking a deep breath, I followed Emma out the door and into her car. As she drove, I gazed out the window, my mind a swirl of anxiety and hope. The city lights blurred past, a cacophony of life that felt distant and unreal.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy little place with warm lighting and the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals. Emma squeezed my hand. “He’s waiting at table five. Go on, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

As I approached table five, I saw him. He was looking down at his menu, but there was something about him that immediately put me at ease. He had an air of quiet confidence, and when he looked up and our eyes met, he smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes, genuine and warm.

“y/n?” he asked, standing up and offering his hand.

I took it, surprised by how natural it felt. “Yes. And you must be Michael.”

He nodded, his grip gentle yet reassuring. “It’s really nice to meet you. Emma’s told me a lot about you.”

I laughed nervously, taking my seat. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” he said, his eyes twinkling with kindness. “She’s very fond of you.”

As we started talking, I found myself relaxing. Michael was easy to talk to, his sense of humor lightening the mood. He shared stories about his work as a graphic designer, his passion for painting, and his dog, Max, who sounded like a real character.

“So, Emma tells me you’re quite the photographer,” he said, his tone genuinely interested.

I blushed slightly. “I dabble. It’s just a hobby, really.”

“From what I hear, you’re pretty talented,” he replied. “Maybe you could show me some of your work sometime?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’d like that.”

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was enjoying myself. Michael was attentive, respectful, and genuinely interested in what I had to say. It was a stark contrast to the indifference and criticism I had grown accustomed to with Adam.

As we said our goodbyes, Michael looked at me with a hopeful expression. “I had a great time tonight, y/n. Can we do this again sometime?”

I smiled, feeling a lightness in my heart. “I’d like that very much, Michael.”

As I walked back to Emma, who was waiting with a knowing smile, I realized something. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to open my heart again. And maybe this time, I’d find the love and respect I truly deserved.

⁠—⁠☆

Emma hugged me as soon as I reached her. “See? Told you it would be fine.”

I hugged her back, gratitude welling up in my chest. “Thank you, Emma. For everything.”

She grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

And for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful about the future.

Picture 2

Friends to lovers

I stood outside y/n’s apartment, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. The city was quiet tonight, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk. I had been here countless times, but tonight felt different. Tonight, everything was about to change.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Almost immediately, I heard her footsteps approaching. The door swung open, and there she was, her smile lighting up the entire hallway.

“Hey! Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let me pass.

I walked in, my heart pounding in my chest. “Hey, y/n. Thanks for having me over.”

We settled on her couch, the same spot where we’d shared countless conversations, laughter, and even tears over the years. She handed me a cup of tea, her eyes sparkling with the warmth I had come to cherish.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, taking a sip of her own tea. “You sounded a bit urgent on the phone.”

I looked at her, really looked at her, and realized just how much she meant to me. Her kindness, her strength, her infectious laugh—all the little things that made her who she was. It hit me like a tidal wave. I was in love with her. I always have been.

“y/n, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began, my voice trembling slightly.

She set her cup down, her expression turning serious. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “y/n, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. You’ve been there for me through everything, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “I am your best friend. I will always be there for you no matter what happens. Now tell me, what is bothering you?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment. “But that’s the thing. I don’t just see you as my best friend anymore. Somewhere along the way, my feelings changed. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, there was a silence that felt like an eternity. My heart was in my throat, fear and hope battling within me.

“oh…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I pressed on, needing her to understand. “I know this might come as a shock, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I had to tell you. I can’t keep pretending that what I feel for you is just friendship.”

Her eyes searched mine, and I saw tears forming. Panic surged through me. Had I made a terrible mistake?

But then she smiled, a radiant, beautiful smile that took my breath away. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for so long.”

Relief washed over me like a flood. “You... you have?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’ve loved you for years. I was just too scared to tell you. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

I reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You’ll never lose me, y/n. You’re everything to me.”

She leaned into my touch, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. “I love you.”

The words were like music to my ears. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. “I love you too, y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

We sat there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. All that mattered was this moment, the love we had finally confessed, and the promise of a future together.

As I held her, I realized something. Love had been right in front of me all along, in the form of my best friend. And now that I had found it, I was never letting go.

Picture 3

Opposites attract

I watched him from across the room, the way he moved with such effortless grace and confidence. The party was in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the air, but all I could focus on was Ethan. He was the epitome of extroversion, charming everyone around him with his easy smile and quick wit.

I, on the other hand, was more comfortable in the shadows, observing rather than participating. I preferred a good book to a loud party, a quiet evening at home to a night out on the town. Yet, here I was, drawn to someone who was my complete opposite in every way.

Ethan caught my eye and waved, making his way over to me. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling inside me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Why are you hiding over here all alone?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just taking a break from all the excitement.”

He laughed, a rich, contagious sound. “You know, you’re the only person I know who comes to a party to take a break from it.”

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on things from the sidelines.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark I was starting to adore.

“Sure,” I said, surprised by how much I wanted him to stay.

We sat down on the edge of the patio, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the crowded house. For a moment, we just sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

“You know, Y/N,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. “I’ve always admired how you can just... be. You don’t need all this noise and attention to feel happy.”

I looked at him, surprised by his honesty. “And I’ve always admired how you can light up a room just by walking into it. You make everything look so easy.”

He smiled, a softer, more genuine smile than I’d seen before. “It’s not always as easy as it looks. Sometimes, it feels like I’m just playing a role. But with you... I feel like I can be myself.”

My heart swelled at his words. “I feel the same way, Ethan. With you, I don’t feel like I have to hide.”

We continued talking, sharing pieces of ourselves we hadn’t revealed to anyone else. I told him about my love for painting, how it was my way of expressing emotions I couldn’t put into words. He opened up about his fear of being alone, how he surrounded himself with people to avoid facing his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we fit together in a way that felt right. His outgoing nature balanced my introversion, his confidence bolstered my shyness, and his warmth melted my reservations.

Ethan reached out, taking my hand in his. His touch was gentle, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through me. “Y/N, I know we’re different, but I can’t help how I feel. Being with you makes me want to be better, to be more.”

I looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. “I feel the same way, Ethan. You make me feel... alive, like anything is possible.”

He leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “So, what do you say we give this a try? Us, I mean. I know it won’t always be easy, but I think it could be something amazing.”

I smiled, my heart full of hope and excitement. “I’d like that, Ethan. I’d like that a lot.”

As he pulled me into a gentle embrace, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected connections can be the most beautiful. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we were falling for each other, and I couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take us.

[peachetteprice]

WAIT i need to say this but idk where to post it but we're all Price enjoyers here so listen up

neighbour!Price or bestfriend or coworker, or whatever, being absolutely disgusted by your boyfriend/husband for not being ''man enough'' to claim you properly. Price thinks why isn't he putting a baby in you yet? haven't you two been together for months now? he's not doing a good job at it! let Price show you and your partner how it's done.

sorry, i am just weak for traditional slightly misogynistic Price, you hear me? good day

Oh... oh dear... I fear you may be on to something, anon... I'm choosing coworker!Price, because that's the first thing that popped into my head... 🧡

Naturally, coworker!Price studies you over a three-month period after the wedding, pressing his stomach against yours as he goes to hug you in farewell for the weekend, as all male coworkers do, such as he's reasoned for the past two years, analysing how your stomach never once bulges and pushes him away from the weight of a bain, despite the ring on your finger having been there for double that amount of time.

When the office Christmas party comes around, it's a secret-santa sort of affair. There's one final gift under the tree in the foyer. It's small, neatly wrapped, placated with a bow and a tag with the words 'from your secret santa' in luxurious cursive. It seems a thoughtful gift for anyone, and you haven't had yours yet - it's been two hours, and you just want to go home so you can shower and determine whether your husband's cock needs caring for - so, when your boss pinches it from the ground and plops it in your lap, it's a momentous occasion.

Sacrificing its beauty for curiosity, you rip open the wrapping paper to reveal a box, a cardboard one, and inside the box... one pink rattle with a cotton bunny tailing the end of it. It would have made a fine gift for an expectant mother, like the receptionist, Emma, for example, except that you're not pregnant, and you voice exactly that to whichever stranger in the cohort was responsible for the gift, expecting to hear a hushed giggle from Ian, sodomised Ian, the creep, who's always ogling the fold in your cleavage whenever you enter the breakroom.

A voice pipes up. It's not Ian's.

"You're not?" It says.

John says, instead of saying 'that bastard', like he wants to.

"No. But... I suppose if I'm ever thinking of having kids anytime soon, I'll... I'll hold onto it." And mutter a very sarcastic 'thank you, Ian,' under your breath.

Which John hears. And it angers him.

Without you even knowing, after everyone leaves the office, he's tagging you on the motorway home, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to wrench it from its socket with thoughts of running you off it, careening you into the barrier and heroically coming to your rescue, using the ruse of having just popped to the shops before home, before sweet-talking you like that bastard never did, bending you over the bonnet and stuffing a baby inside you like a true man should with his darling wife, cock fat with semen and weeping cum into that tight, velvet cunt of yours, too cock-drunk to even speak, drooling onto the metal plane of the front of your car as he cements your marriage with a baby, a chubby, healthy one, born from his cum and his cum only.

But you depart from the motorway via the next junction to stop for petrol, and he's too enraptured by the thoughts of fatherhood that he continues straight, right hand in his underwear, eyes dazed as he bursts his load, pretending its you and not his boxers to which he's gifting his precious cum.

| Masterlist |

[watcherintheweyr]

Can they make a post with their opinion on young alicent please? (English is not my first language, I hope I used the pronouns correctly. If not, I apologize)

Hello! I’m sorry this took me so long, I had written out this entire response and somehow tumblr fucking ate it.

So for starters, you didn’t quite get the pronoun use right, but that’s totally fine and I really appreciate you trying! Pronouns and the english language are a bitch to learn. So when someone’s pronouns are ‘they/them’ those pronouns only replace gendered pronouns- (he/his/he’s/she/her/hers/she’s). Non gendered pronouns (you/your/you’re/yours) are entirely fine. So this would’ve been ‘Can you make a post with your opinion on young Alicent?’. If you were then to talk about me, it’d be ‘I asked watcherintheweyr to make a post about their opinion on young Alicent’ or ‘Watcherintheweyr made a post explaining their thoughts on young Alicent because I asked them.’

Don’t feel bad pls- the English language is a total bitch, and genuinely you put more effort into trying to get it right than a lot of native english speakers who I interact with. And I really do appreciate it.

anyways, on to your question!

So while I have a lot of sympathy for young Alicent in a lot of ways- I don’t like her, and I never did. For starters, I absolutely despise that the show isolated Rhaenyra and made Alicent her only friend and companion, which was untrue in the books and also makes no sense for how royalty works. Rhaenyra, as the only princess, would’ve have a sizeable ‘household’ of young ladies around her age. Those girls would’ve been essentially her helpers and her companions- she would’ve been in lessons alongside them, and they would’ve worked together in matters of court, politics, and events. Canonically she had a gaggle of young girls she was very close to- to the point that when (SPOILERS) Rhaenyra is murdered by Aegon, her ‘youngest and gentlest’ lady, Elinda Massey, purportedly gouges out her eyes from the trauma and horror.

Also, I despise that Laena Velaryon’s story and importance in Rhaenyra’s life was sacrificed for Alicent Hightower- including their deeply hinted romantic connection.

Anyways, moving on. Alicent Hightower.

Ultimately, I think that Alicent is a tragic example of what happens when you buy into oppressive regimes- further and enable them because you think you’ll be rewarded for sacrificing others to those regimes, and realize far too late that you won’t. She has 100% bought into the Faith of the Seven and Otto and Westeros’ sexism, and she serves that system in the hope that she’ll be rewarded for it, for playing by the rules and sabotaging the power and autonomy of other women- especially Rhaenyra. And all the seeds and groundwork are THERE from episode one if you pay attention. Alicent is a self-righteous hypocrite and not nearly as intelligent as she thinks she is- and she is also a victim of Otto, Viserys, and the patriarchy. I also think she was never a good friend to Rhaenyra- and that she never really knew Rhaenyra.

(This post is going to be VERY long, so buckle up)

In episode one, we see very quickly that Alicent doesn’t understand Rhaenyra well, if at all. She makes the comment that Rhaenyra is ‘disagreeable’ when she’s worried- and is promptly baffled that Rhaenyra’s worry is not her position or about being ‘overshadowed’ for a son- that Rhaenyra genuinely hopes her father will get the son he’s wanted for her entire life, and that her only true worry is her mother. Emma D’Arcy and Milly Alcock both press that Rhaenyra is fully aware that due to her gender that she isn’t ‘enough’ for her parents or the realm, that she’s seen as lacking or deficient. Alicent doesn’t seem at all aware of this. Furthermore, Alicent’s question is… Odd. At this point in the story, Rhaenyra is only ‘a’ princess. She isn’t the heir- Daemon is. The only ‘overshadowing’ that could occur is Viserys’ already fleeting and inconsistent ‘love’ becoming even less present. And Rhaenyra is already expecting this; but Alicent presses more of Rhaenyra’s ‘position’.

Now bear in mind- in the past 10 years, 14 year old Rhaenyra has had to watch her father insist on and continually risk her mother’s life and health, and she’s had to mourn 5 siblings- some born, others not. So Rhaenyra being ‘disagreeable’ when she’s worried makes sense. But when she doesn’t budge on not wanting to talk about/prioritize her ‘position’, Alicent gets huffy and makes to leave. She then appears to be entirely stunned when Rhaenyra verbatim recites the current passage of history that they are learning from their Septa. This piece of information is given to us to set up and establish Rhaenyra’s clever mind and interest in learning- of the 5 episodes we have of Young!Rhaenyra, she is shown to be actively listening to and learning from her superiors in just about all of them, reading and learning from books in 3 of them, and utilizing courtly intrigue, manners, and speak in 3 of them to shut down opponents or disrespect. And yet Alicent is entirely taken aback by Rhaenyra doing this; which again lends itself to the idea that she doesn’t actually know Rhaenyra very well. In the script, at the end of the episode, it’s also expressed that Alicent doesn’t seem to understand Rhaenyra being stressed/worried about her investiture as heir- in her eyes, Rhaenyra now has everything anyone could want. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra has now been revealed the truth of why Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms- and has now been entrusted with learning to rule and govern the kingdoms, and to nurture and protect the legacy meant to fulfill this prophecy- and she is shown to be very aware of and affected by the weight of this.

Alicent, meanwhile, has become a pawn in her father’s bid for power, and a victim to his ambitions, and to Viserys’ sexism and passivity.

In episode 2, Alicent has been seeing Viserys in secret for six months- and notably, it’s 6 months into their meetings that Viserys expresses that he wishes for her not to tell Rhaenyra, as he doesn’t think she would ‘understand’. We see that she is harming herself and Otto doesn’t appear to care about it in any way more meaningful than why she would do so when she’s the most beautiful girl at court- a thing to be envied and admired. We also in this episode see how fully she has bought into the realm and the Faith’s sexism. When Rhaenyra comes to Alicent about her fears of the plots of the lords to marry her father off again now that his period of mourning is coming to an end, and as such they would be plotting to supplant her. She is struggling, because it’s shown that she is trying to act as heir, to learn and participate- because she WANTS this, wants to be heir, wants to do it and do it well- but Otto undermines and humiliates her, and Viserys simply lets it happen- practically enables it. She expresses her fears of these plots and her frustrations and desire to be the heir, to be more and grasp for more than she would’ve ever been allowed as ‘Viserys’ little girl’.

And Alicent’s response is to dismiss Rhaenyra’s fears- to tell her friend and the named heir to the throne that it ‘isnt their place to question the plots of kings and men’. Because Alicent does not believe women can or should hold genuine power- like she says in episode 9, women are meant to ‘gently guide those who [rule]’. And she does this while she is actively a part of one of those very plots that Rhaenyra fears. Now, bear in mind; I am fully aware that Alicent is a victim to her father’s ambitions, and Viserys’ complicity. It’s not Alicent’s fault what these men do to her. And it’s understandable why Alicent wouldn’t want to tell Rhaenyra, in a lot of ways.

That doesn’t change that both Alicent AND Viserys broke Rhaenyra’s trust and hurt her- and she is shown later to be trying to create distance from them- because they have both shown that Rhaenyra cannot trust them. Viserys because he’s self-serving and blind, and Alicent because her ultimate loyalty and obeisance will always be to her father, not Rhaenyra. And Rhaenyra is keenly aware of this after the reveal, even though it is never made clear to Rhaenyra that Alicent wasn’t seeing Viserys in secret of her own volition. That doesn’t change that for six months, since the *night* of Aemma’s funeral, Alicent was seeing Viserys in secret, whilst dismissing Rhaenyra’s fears of that exact sort of plot to her face. That doesn’t change the fact that Rhaenyra has every right to feel hurt, feel betrayed, and not want anything to do with Alicent- or Viserys, beyond what she cannot avoid.

On a note that’s entirely personal, while I know that Alicent was attempting to share something important to her with Rhaenyra in an attempt to help her feel better, to me, Alicent having Rhaenyra partake of her faith felt… strange. Rhaenyra, who named the dragon she shared a cradle with after a goddess of Old Valyria and who has no idea how to pray in a Sept to the Seven, clearly either is not religious or follows Valyrian faiths- and considering her Valyrian marriage to Daemon, it’s likely the latter. Personally- I would not want a friend of mine to try and have me participate in their religion, and I wouldn’t push them to participate in mine either. For me, that was just uncomfortable; but again that’s a purely personal issue.

In episode 3, we see these traits of Alicent’s repeat, as well as her inability to introspect or consider someone else’s feelings. Immediately in the Godswood she uses her ‘weight’ as queen to disregard Rhaenyra attempting create space and distance between them. And while yes it was on command from the King- the way Alicent does it is almost… Smug. She then attempts to tell Rhaenyra that ‘things need not be this way’- as Rhaenyra, upset, goes to change and ready herself for the hunt, despite the fact that this is the last place she wishes to be. Alicent is upset at the loss of her friend, and likely lonely- but she disregards Rhaenyra’s feelings entirely. This is further compounded by the scene in the carriage.

Despite the fact that she and Alicent are not friends, nor truly even speaking, Rhaenyra, who watched her mother struggle and suffer pregnancies, and lose multiple babes and her life, expresses concern that Alicent is traveling in her condition. In an incredibly clumsy attempt to soothe her concerns, Alicent makes the comment that ‘Aegon came quickly and without fuss.’ Again; i understand that this was a very clumsy attempt to ease Rhaenyra’s worry, however everyone in that carriage sees how poorly the comment lands, and Alicent makes no attempt at apology. ‘Aegon came quickly and without fuss’ is.. very insensitive to say to the girl that lost her mother to the childbed, and especially when you are quite literally sitting in that mother’s place- when you’ve replaced her because her last child killed her and died alongside her. If she had made any attempt at apology (the way Rhaenyra did when she saw a comment she made while expressing her frustrations hurt Alicent in e.4), that would be one thing; but she doesn’t.

Rhaenyra is heir- and canonically the only duty she has balked at is marriage. She is currently desperately holding on to being ‘the heir’ with everything she has- because it is all she has, the only thing that doesn’t make her replaceable with the new family that Viserys is building with Alicent- and as such it’s understandable that she doesn’t wish to go to Aegon’s second Name-day celebration, as she is keenly aware of the thing Viserys is blind to and that Alicent is passive to; the realm considers a 2 year old boy child more valuable and more worthy than the 17 year old princess who has actively been learning to be and acting as heir for three years at this point. Alicent’s uncle, Hobart Hightower, welcomes them by crying out ‘All Hail Aegon the Conqueror-Babe, second of his name!’ and neither Viserys nor Alicent does anything. Hobart is not corrected, nor taken to task, and the crown is rabidly enamored with the two year old child all because his genitalia makes him more ‘valuable’ than Rhaenyra. By calling Aegon ‘second of his name’ Hobart is saying the quiet part out loud- the realm all expects and wants for Aegon to be heir, for Rhaenyra to be set aside. Alicent is the queen- but she doesn’t care enough to correct her uncle, either because she does already think her son should be heir or because she doesn’t think it’s a woman’s place to correct a man.

Later in this same episode, she gives an incredibly half-hearted defense of Rhaenyra when Otto begins to speak literal treason- but she does bend to his will yet again, and goes to Viserys with the intent of pushing Aegon’s claim. She is aware in *episode 3* that her father is conspiring against Rhaenyra’s ascension, and she never says a word of it to Viserys or Rhaenyra, because she is Otto’s creature first, and because she agrees- Rhaenyra is a woman, and thus cannot and should not rule.

Episode 4 and 5 really bring Alicent’s hypocrisy and self-centeredness to a head and set the stage for the cruel abuser that she becomes. She is the story of a victim-turned abuser, in the end.

It starts out more positively, with Alicent and Rhaenyra attempting to rekindle their friendship, and discussing Rhaenyra’s tour. Alicent expresses an almost childish lack of understanding of the truth of Rhaenyra’s courtship tour- calling it romantic, seeing it as something dreamlike. Rhaenyra exposes the cold truth of it- after we had earlier seen that none of the options she’s offered (that we see) are actually suitable. She uses courtly manners and speak to have Lord Dondarrion essentially take himself out of the running, by getting him to speak of his age and simply agreeing with him- and is then presented with a literal child. She is fully aware that every man ‘courting’ her doesn’t love her, doesn’t want HER. They want her valyrian blood. They want their children to be dragonriders. They want proximity to the throne and power. Rhaenyra has to choose a consort; and the consequences if she chooses wrong are disastrous. She could choose a man who turns her into what Viserys did to Alicent and Aemma, she could choose a man who utilizes Westerosi patriarchal views and values and turns her into a puppet queen so that he has the actual power, or she could choose a man who is, ultimately, weak- and thus would not be able to support her claim, would not be able to support or defend her when she ascends. She expresses these frustrations- but when she sees one of her comments hurts Alicent, she immediately holds her hand and squeezes in an attempt at comfort and apology.

Alicent expresses that she has found that she has few friends, lately; and this comment is.. Interesting, in what it says of Alicent. That even at the height of female power in the realm, she cannot inspire loyalty or affection in those around her, that the only prospect she has for a friend is her childhood companion. Rhaenyra expresses a hope to grow closer again as well; but well.

Immediately we shift to the scene in the Godswood where Alicent confronts Rhaenyra with her father’s accusations. She comes into the confrontation immediately condescending and judgemental, looking down on Rhaenyra’s rebellious and adventurous nature, as well as her ‘queer Targaryen customs’, and the ‘crimes’ of which she is accused. Because remember; at this point, Alicent has bought entirely into the way the realm and the Faith views women; women who follow the rules, subservient and obedient, never reaching for more, sacrificing and doing their duty, are good, should be rewarded. Anything else is morally deficient, wrong, lesser. Given this and how she approaches the conversation; it is entirely understandable that Rhaenyra doesn’t trust Alicent, and relies on misdirection and her mother’s memory as well as their former closeness to protect herself, because through this entire conversation, it is obvious that if she knew the truth, Alicent *would not protect Rhaenyra.*

Now remember, Alicent speaks with Viserys in ‘defense’ of Rhaenyra- and she knows FULLY well that Viserys doesn’t believe that nothing happened, that Rhaenyra is restless, chaotic, and willful, and that she would have done as she pleases. (Made worse by Viserys bemoaning that Rhaenyra is ‘just a girl’ when 5 years ago he married Alicent and has had 2 children by her at this point and will have 2 more- plus he has been pushing and pressuring for Rhaenyra to marry for at least 3 of those years.)

Later, when Otto is dismissed, Alicent states what we all know to be true; he got himself into this position, because he kept pushing for Aegon to be made heir, to the point of committing treason and spying on the princess, salivating for a moment where she misbehaves that he can use against her. Here we see Alicent begin to believe the seeds Otto has been planting; that Rhaenyra would kill her siblings to secure her ascension. (Remember, the whole reason of the juxtaposition between the boar and the white stag in episode.3 is to directly contradict this. Rhaenyra attacks and kills the boar only because it harmed her and her knight. Killing the white stag would have helped her- it would have made the lords of Westeros see her as chosen, especially since she caught and killed it the day AFTER Aegon’s name day, and it revealed itself to HER [symbolizing that yes, Rhaenyra is the rightful heir and the RIGHT heir]. Killing it would have given her legitimacy beyond legitimacy and silenced MANY of the tongues that are conspiring against her. However she shows it mercy- despite the fact that its’ death would have served her) Despite having once ‘loved’ Rhaenyra, and ‘known’ her, somehow these lies make sense to Alicent and she believes them. (Furthermore, she somehow is shocked in ep.9 that the reverse is true- that to secure Aegon’s ascension, the easiest and most acceptable route to all the men around her who wield the true power, is to kill Rhaenyra and all of her children).

When later Larys mentions the delivery of a tea to Rhaenyra’s chambers on orders of the king (despite, again, her KNOWING that Viserys doesn’t believe nothing happened) she decides to look further into the matter; even though clearly Viserys wishes it dead and buried, left behind in the dust of her father’s departure of the capitol.

In ep.5, when Alicent discovers that Criston Cole slept with Rhaenyra, it all comes to a head. Despite the fact that Rhaenyra didn’t ‘lie’ (she did not sleep with Daemon), in this moment, Rhaenyra has solidified herself in Alicent’s mind as morally deficient, as less, and it infuriates her. The fact that Rhaenyra has taken charge of ehr body and autonomy in a way that Alicent would never have dared infuriates her; because a part of her had always accepted and even wished for what she assumed would be the order of things. That Rhaenyra would ‘sacrifice and do her duty’ and lay down to suffer the whims and wills of the men around them at Alicent’s side. That they would be united in that suffering. That they would be defanged and declawed the way the Faith extolls women must be, to ‘gently guide’ the men in power alongside them. (Ironic considering how later Alicent utterly fails in ‘guiding’ every man in power around her.)

Alicent has followed every rule and every tradition, does her duty no matter the discomfort, and the fact that Rhaenyra is daring to grasp for more, for power of her own, for happiness and autonomy, and isn’t being punished for it infuriates her. Infuriates her to the point that only Rhaenyra’s trasngression matters. To her, it doesn’t matter that Criston Cole broke his vows and slept with the princess because he valued desire over duty (as explicitly stated by Fabien and by ep.4’s directors)- he is a man. Only Rhaenyra must be punished. It doesn’t matter to her that Rhaenyra has bowed to her father’s will and that the choice of who she will be marry has been taken away from her so that he can use her to fix the political wounds he has caused; from this point forward, nothing Rhaenyra ever does will be enough for Alicent. Supplying heirs to the throne and Driftmark? Not enough- especially since Rhaenyra doesn’t assault her gay husband to do so. Acting as heir and putting forth wise, responsible suggestions in politics and problem-solving in the small council? Absolutely not, especially since in Alicent’s mind Rhaenyra has no business ruling over the men in the Small Council. Ruling from the heir’s seat of Dragonstone in preparation for the throne? Not enough. Offering apology when the poison that Alicent has been feeding her children about Rhaenyra and her children causes a fight between the children where her son is injured after throwing around death threats and claimed a dragon without the King’s leave (which IS established to be necessary in Jaehaerys’ reign) Not enough- she must have Lucerys’ eye as well. From this point on, *nothing Rhaenyra can or will do will ever be enough.*

And the irony is that her own hypocrisy never takes herself into account. She uses a dress to declare war at a wedding; insulting the Velaryons and her stepdaughter, and she faces no consequences for doing so, nothing for the disrespect- but only Rhaenyra ‘never’ faces consequences, right? Criston Cole murders a knight of the kingdoms and strikes the future king-consort to the Kingdoms- and Alicent protects him from every consequence, brings him into her own household as her own sworn knight.

In essence; young Alicent is a victim of the Faith, the Patriarchy and the men around her; but all of the seeds for the abuser that she becomes are there. She’s a hypocrite, blind to anything that doesn’t fit the narrative she wishes for, and to a degree, very narcissistic, and not as clever or as powerful as she thinks she is.

Mind you her being self-serving or self-absorbed isn’t some unforgivable crime; but in juxtaposition to how Rhaenyra expresses concern and care for her at multiple points, it just sits very poorly, for me.

Moving on;

Alicent, when younger is… Deeply interesting, deeply flawed, and incredibly tragic. Her younger self sets the stage for how her story ends; (SPOILERS) with her outliving all her children and grandchildren, all of them dead for her grudges and ambition, with her mad and alone.

She’s also, in some ways, very clever; she’s observant, knowing much of the court gossip, even potentially dangerous secrets in e.1 (speaking of that one Lady’s ‘swollen belly’ aka suspected pregnancy). She’s very duty-oriented, though mostly because she wants to be rewarded for how dutiful she is. She’s subservient to the men around her due to how Otto uses her, and short-sighted. I don’t think she’s a particularly kind individual, but I think she did have the POTENTIAL to be kind. She’s a little boy-obsessed- she was confirmed to have had a crush on Daemon and on Criston, plus how she viewed the courtship tour as ‘romantic’, but she’s also so obsessed with Rhaenyra that it blinds her to the truth both of herself and of Rhaenyra- obsessed with an image of Rhaenyra that isn’t actually the truth. She takes solace in her Faith, it seems, more than anything else, and she struggles to connect to people around her in meaningful ways. She has moments of deep insight- such as how she told Rhaenyra that any effort in hers and Viserys’ relationship would have to come from Rhaenyra, as Viserys, a man, is useless to ‘the language of girls’. She doesn’t like risks (no interest in flying with Rhaenyra) or adrenaline, and likely pursues only more ‘feminine’ pursuits- canonically we know Rhaenyra loves to ride horses and to fly Syrax, to hawk and hunt, loves fashion- even in the book I’d say Rhaenyra is a ‘fashionable’ tomboy in a lot of ways. But we don’t really know.. ANY hobbies of Alicent’s. We don’t know her passions, we don’t know her interests outside of the Faith and the ambitions of her family.

We don’t know her relationships with her children or motherhood- though we know she’s jealous of what a good mother Rhaenyra is.

Honestly it’s a shame. S1 really needed to be 20 eps- 10 with the younger versions of Alicent and Rhaenyra, and 10 with the older. It would’ve let us KNOW the characters more and get far more invested in their fates.

Anyways this… is a novel. But I hope I answered your question alright lmao. I think Alicent as a character is very interesting- but good lord I don’t like her, and yeah I didn’t like her younger version either.

[bucked-it-up]

Idk if this will ever be finished because uni and life got overwhelming but I thought why not post this so some people can see it and read it rather than sit in my drafts. Anyways it's a bucktommy au only really the start. Word count - 2417

Buck was fed up with going to physiotherapy; he knew he needed to go for his leg and get back to firefighting, but it was so draining, and every session just reminded him of how far he must go. Having to do the exercises and struggling just added more to the pain and heartbreak of not being able to go back to firefighting, the one thing he felt was important. The 118 tried to help him but they just felt like comforting platitudes. Always saying take your time, you will be back sooner than you know. He just wanted to be back out there, doing the rescues, and helping people, he didn’t want to feel stuck. He kept going, kept pretending he cared about more than the job, that he wasn’t struggling to get up knowing he wasn’t truly closer to getting back to work.

The appointment that day wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, they had been going through some of the standard exercises to get strength back. They were exercises he could’ve done in his sleep before the truck but now his muscles shook, locked into tense positions, making it hard to walk. The physiotherapist, Emma, always would say it's normal and it will improve, and he just wanted to shout at her sometimes. When will it improve? When? Every time he feels the same, no improvement. He needed something to feel like a win.

As he walked out of the appointment room, slightly limping, keeping weight on his left, he bumped into something. He fell back slightly, catching himself with his bad leg, letting out a hiss of pain and stumbling. A hand grabs his arm steadying him.

“Hey,” a soft voice appears, “You good?”

“Yeah, uh,” Buck looks up to see concerned eyes and dark hair. “I wasn’t expecting to bump into someone. Caught myself on my bad leg.”

“It’s my fault I wasn’t looking where I was going.” The hand lets go of its hold on his arm and Buck can feel himself steady, but pain still races up his leg a not-so-subtle reminder that he needs to be more careful. “I’m Tommy, here for my shoulder, you?”

“Evan, my leg if it wasn’t obvious.” Buck wasn’t sure why he said Evan not Buck, but it felt easier, Buck had the expectations of a firefighter, of someone fit and healthy, something who could stumble and put weight on his leg. Evan had no expectations apart from being someone who fucked up.

“I have to go in for my appointment, Evan,” Tommy saying Evan felt nice, Buck wasn’t sure why. “But maybe I will see you next week? If you have an appointment?”

“I do,” Buck chuckled a bit at arranging to meet at another physio appointment but why not, Tommy seems nice. “I guess I will see you then.”

And that was the start of their weekly physio meet-ups.

Every week, when Tommy’s appointments lined up with Buck's, was a light in each dark week. He did feel like he was closer to getting somewhere now with his leg, but it was still a struggle. Talking to Tommy after each appointment helped, he had learnt so much about Tommy. He now knew that Tommy was a firefighter pilot at the Harbor Station and had also been at the 118 before he had transferred which meant that Buck had gotten to learn what it was like before he joined the station. Buck had gotten to laugh at stories such as Maurice and the knives.

(“What do you mean you had to get a chicken with knives attached to its legs?”

“It was a part of a cock fighting ring!”

“Sure…”

“The best part was Bobby giving the chicken to Athena.”

‘Wait! What do you mean he did that! Tell me more!”)

Buck learns about Tommy’s time in the army, and how he joined to escape his dad. He joined as early as he could and ended up being discharged after he was shot in the shoulder. Buck learns how he decided to join firefighting.

(“After being discharged I had no purpose, like I was floating with no anchor. After so long of being in regimented routines where every part of my day was decided for me, I just didn’t know what to do. Then I saw an emergency happen in front of me, nothing serious, someone had fallen and broken their leg and needed an ambulance, I saw how the team worked together, and it reminded me of my time in the army. How there you had a group of people who always had your back. That’s why I signed up, I wanted to help people and have people around me to fall back on.”

“But then you had Gerrard.”

“But I had Gerrard.”)

After Tommy opens up about Gerrard, Buck slowly learns more bits and pieces about Tommy’s life. He learns how Gerrard was almost a perfect reflection of Tommy's father and how it affected him in terms of coming to accept himself. Buck learns about how Tommy felt after starting therapy when he joined the 217, wanting to learn how to be a better person and come to terms with what had happened in the past.

(“It took a lot of work to come to terms with myself and realise that I couldn’t keep letting my dad hang over my head. I needed to accept myself and with comfortable with me. Hen was actually the first person I told I was gay. She was a big reason why I had come to terms with wanting to be proud of who I am and who I love. So, I wanted her to be the first to know.”

“How did she react?”

“Oh, she invited me over for dinner with Karen, it was one of the first times I had been able to talk about being gay and what it meant for me. I don’t talk to Hen as often anymore, but we always tell each other happy pride. I miss her.”)

Tommy in turn learns about Evan’s travels before he became a firefighter, and learns about Maddie who only recently came back in his life. Tommy sits there and listens while Evan talks about growing up in a home where only his sister was a parent to him and how he felt abandoned when Maddie stayed with Doug but also how having Maddie’s jeep set him free from the expectations of his parents.

(“So, a cowboy, you were a cowboy.”

“I don’t know if I would say cowboy…”

“Come one, Evan, I know you want to call yourself a cowboy.”

“Okay, maybe I was a cowboy.”)

Tommy also learns about when Evan was fired, and how he was using sex as a coping mechanism and took the fire truck to have sex with someone. He learns that Evan cares so much about the job, how much he needs to be able to go back to work and how much pain Evan is hiding.

(“The day I got fired was a difficult day, but it was also a good day. I learnt how much firefighting means to me and I got to prove myself to both Athena and Bobby. Since then, my love for the job has grown with each rescue no matter how small or big. I just want to get back to it, Tommy, it almost hurts being away from it and not knowing when I will be back. I just want to get better.”

“You will, Evan. I know you will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I see you, I see your determination, your strength. You will get back there.”)

Tommy also learns about how Evan got the leg injury and the events leading up to it. He remembers hearing about the bombs being placed around the city, targeting people. He remembers the horror of seeing the news report of a firefighter being trapped under an engine and the bomber refusing to let anyone near him. He remembers watching with bated breath, hoping to see the figure be set free, he almost cried with relief when he saw the truck being lifted. He couldn’t imagine being the person going through it. He felt like he understood Evan even more after hearing about it.

(“It was terrifying, I was stuck, and I was sure I was going to lose my leg. The kid just wouldn’t do anything, I mean I get he was scared and hurt but I just wanted to be out of pain.”

“God, Evan, I can’t imagine.”

“I thought I would be free of the pain when they started to lift the truck, but it just got worse, and now I’m likely to never stop feeling pain in my leg. Sometimes it feels like I’m still under there, with no help coming.”

“Evan, I will always help, please call me, text me anytime and I will get to you as soon as possible. I will make sure that help is always coming.”)

As suddenly as the meetings started, they stopped. Tommy’s shoulder no longer needed to be watched over by the physio and it was just at-home exercises he needed to do. Buck didn’t realise quite how lonely the appointments would be after that even though he knew his end was in sight as well. Though he didn’t see Tommy at the appointments, they did finally remember to share their numbers and since then, Buck didn’t think they had gone more than a day without texting.

(Tommy: Only a couple more PT sessions left, then its recertify training?

Buck: Yep! So happy I can finally start training again soon. The academy won’t know what hit them!

Tommy: Let me know when you start and you can come round and train in my home gym)

Sometimes it was serious texts, long messages about something that was bothering them, often about their injuries that they both knew they would be dealing with for the rest of their lives. Having someone able to understand helped Buck be able to slowly come to terms with the pain in his leg, he was able to look past it more and accept that some things in his life would have to adjust. Other times the messages sent were much less serious.

(Buck: did you know there is only one seal species that only live in freshwater?

Tommy: No, but go on

Buck: Yes!! The Baikal Seal in Russia, its found in the baikal lake which is also the deepest lake in the world!)

Buck learnt more about the day to life of a firefighter pilot, what kind of work they do what kind of calls Tommy takes. He learns that Tommy does a lot of air transport often from the harder hiking routes in LA where inexperienced hikers think they can handle. He also learns about some of the weird calls that he’s done while being with Harbor.

(Tommy: so one time we went out to a call middle of nowhere to transport a medical call and when we get there we find this couple who had obviously come out for a date when some how one of them got tangled up and tripped over the picnic blanket breaking their leg and then the other decides you know what it’s the perfect time to propose right as we are about to put their partner in the helicopter

Buck: did they say yes?!?!?!?!?

Tommy: is that the only thing you took away from that story…

Buck: you can’t leave me hanging what was the answer!!!!!

Tommy: …. They said yes

Buck: !!!!!)

As time went on Tommy did wonder if Evan was pushing himself too far to recertify as soon as he could. Tommy worried that he could cause an injury down the line and did try and get Evan to slow down whenever he came round to train in his gym. He would force longer rests and lighter weights, citing that it would help him when he went hard on his own. Tommy would also try and convince him to slow down whenever Evan told him he was going to the gym or training; it didn’t always go well but at least he tried. Tommy also almost wanted to suggest therapy for Evan because he knew there was more driving these decisions than just Evan wanting to be back on the job. It was almost like Evan felt it was the only thing going for him.

(Tommy: Evan, maybe, you can take a day off from training?

Evan: I need to do this, Tommy, I need to get back to it

Tommy: It will still be there no matter how long you take, im sure other people have told you this)

Evan was having a bad day, he wasn’t replying the same and was constantly dodging Tommy’s suggestions of coming around, and having a movie day, something Evan had always been open to previously. Evan had been having a hard time when coming to training towards recertification, Tommy had been hearing it for the last week or so, Evan just wasn’t where he wanted to be. Tommy knew that Evan would make it back to the 118 and get through the recertification process he just needed to give himself time. A glance to his side where Willow was laying gave Tommy an idea to get Evan to maybe cheer up.

(Tommy: [Cat picture]

Tommy: [Cat picture]

Tommy: [Cat picture]

Evan: cat? When did you get a cat?

Evan: also CAT

Tommy: I got her shortly after you last came over, one of the other firefighters in Habor found her but couldn’t keep her. I could so took her in

Tommy: [Cat picture]

Evan: Im coming over to meet her, now, be prepared)

Tommy was beginning to plan his and Evans's celebratory meal for the day after Evans's celebratory BBQ with the 118. Evan had tried to get him to come to the BBQ, but Tommy wasn’t ready to see the 118 in person even if Evan had said they wanted to meet him, well not him, the Tommy that Evan had told them about. Eventually, he will see them again just not right now.

(Evan: are you sure you don’t wanna come to Bobby’s and Athena’s?

Tommy: yes, im looking forward to seeing you the day after. I’m not good at large gatherings anyway

Evan: if you are sure, we could do both

Tommy: im sure, you enjoy yourself, don’t worry about me)

[mx-loar-tev]

Okay, I'm back after all, I had to share that scene I had in my head.

So there was that post I reblogged and I couldn't help but turn it into swanqueen.

I just can't help seeing Emma and Regina making out in the kitchen. They hear the door open, and they panic because they are not out, not even to Henry.

Regina shoves Emma into the nearest hiding place, the pantry. Henry enters the kitchen and greats her mom. Small talks ensue.

Henry goes to the pantry to grab a snack. Regina can't find a excuse quickly enough to stop him. He opens the door and peeks inside.

"Hi Ma."

"Hi Henry."

He rummaged through the shelves for his favorite snack.

"You're not too cramped in here?" asks Henry.

"Nah. It's roomy. I think I gonna move in."

Henry beams, but it's not clear if it's about the idea of his birth mother living under the same roof or if it's because he finally found the right snack.

"Got lots of homework to do, gotta go. Bye Ma!"

"Bye Henry?"

Henry emerges of the pantry at last. Regina is still stock-still in the middle of the kitchen. She can't even warn her son against putting crumbs everywhere.

After a minute, Regina finally gains back the controle of her own body and goes into the pantry.

"So... He knows. He must know, right?"

"I thought he would be more surprised."

"Maybe we should still sit him down and talk to him about... Us."

"Yes, we should do that before I move in."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You didn't hear? This pantry is roomy and confy, I think I'll be fine here."

"Why live in this shoe box of a pantry when I have a queen sized bed?"

"Is it an invitation, Madam Mayor?"

"The requirement for being a denizen of my bedroom is a kiss every morning. Starting now."

"I think I can manage that."

"Welcome home, Emma."

*

I think the same setting would be fun at the loft with Snow. Would Snow would be shell-shocked or would she act like it was a long time coming?

I like the idea of her going "Hi Regina, bye Regina!... Wait..."

The closet is such an underrated trope tbh.

[cosmicpearlz]

lover boy

summary: the 3 times he realized he was smitten with her and the one time he finally confessed.

pairing: percy hynes white x actress!reader

a/n: this is my first time writing in a while, so pls be nice lol. all jokes aside, i hope you guys enjoy and send me some requests! (i got this idea after seeing @dilfxfinder post about wanting percy content!)

…………………………………………………………………………….

~the first time~

it’s been a couple of months since everyone had gotten completely comfortable with each other. you’d say that working on wednesday with a cast full of people your age was one of the many highlights.

jenna decided to host a game night at the apartment she was renting. especially since everyone had the weekend off. percy and emma wanted to be co-hosts with her and helped set up.

“is it weird that i’m kinda nervous?”

“percy, nervous for game night?” emma stopped putting the chips into a bowl to look at the boy. to be honest, he wasn’t sure why he was nervous. it’s not like he’s meeting everyone for the first time again or having to do the first table reading.

“emma, you know he can’t be around y/n without almost passing out,” jenna smirked while emma let out a small chuckle.

“oh yeah! i forgot how smitten you are with her.”

percy felt the heat reaching his cheeks but before he could respond back, there was a knock on the door. wordlessly the boy opened the door and seen the very person they were talking about.

“we brought the drinks!” you said with a smile as you, joy and hunter walked in. jenna and emma share a knowing look before focusing on the task at hand.

“welcome to game night! you guys are a little early. do you mind helping set up?” jenna looked at the three of you.

“of course not, what do you need us to do?” asked hunter. this sent an imaginary floating lightbulb over emma’s head.

“how about we pair up, yeah? joy, you could helped jenna with the decorations. hunter, you could help me with the snacks and drinks. y/n and percy can work on the playlist!”

with that being said, everyone was off to their task. percy was freaking out because how was he supposed to be this close to you without freezing or doing something dumb?

you took him out of his thoughts by wrapping your arms around his waist in greeting. percy immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders. he liked this. having you in his arms.

“so what music are we thinking?” you look up at him with a small smile, still being in his embrace.

in just a couple of months of knowing you and hangout with you, you’ve managed to catch his heart. that small yet adorable smile made his stomach flutter.

oh man was he absolutely gone for you.

-

~the second time~

the last day of filming was overwhelming for everyone. spending time with people you’ve grown to love and then having to leave was hard. percy wasn’t ready to go home. he wasn’t ready to leave you. he wasn’t ready to leave anyone really but you, he couldn’t even stomach the thought of not seeing you until the press junkets started.

“ugh i don’t even know why i’m crying right now. i know we’re going to see each other in a couple of weeks but i don’t want to leave,” you looked around the group with tears in your eyes.

joy and oliver pull you into a group hug while you quietly sobbed. “it’s okay y/n! we’re going to see each other again,” joy softly kissed your forehead.

“yeah, don’t think of it as a goodbye but as a see you later,” oliver squeezed you one last time before being the first to let go.

“i guess you’re right.”

you made your rounds hugging everyone and somehow crying even more. you finally made your way to percy who was standing off to the side by himself.

“you know, i’m really gonna miss you perc.”

percy looked up from the ground to see you standing before him. even with your red puffy eyes and quivering lip, he still thought you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. he closes the distance between you guys and tightly embraced you. you don’t waste a second and wrapped your arms around him too.

“i’m gonna miss you so fucking much y/n. don’t even understand.” you nestle into his chest letting out more stray tears. the both of you ended up swaying back and forth still wrapped around each other.

“promise me you won’t forget me?” you joked pulling away a little to look up at him. percy chuckled and shakes his head.

“never. how could i ever forget you?” he brings a hand to caress your cheek wiping away some of the tears.

“you think they’re ever going to confess to one another?” georgie whispered to emma who was also witnessing this moment between you guys.

“i hope they do it soon. preferably before we have to lock them in a room together.”

you and percy finally let go of each other however still close enough to bump arms while walking.

“come on lovebirds! we’re going out to eat,” jenna yelled out to you guys. instantly, percy felt that same type of warmth growing on his cheeks.

“c’mon percy, last one there is a rotten egg?”

“you are totally on,” with that you both sprinted to the where the others were waiting. obviously percy gets there before you because of his long legs.

“ha, i win!”

“no fair perc. you have freakishly long legs,” you pouted at him with your arms crossed.

“guess you gotta get longer legs sweetheart,” percy laughs and kisses your head.

you intertwine your hand with his pulling him with you. “yeah whatever. i’m still salty but also very hungry.”

he’s never gonna get over this feeling.

-

~the third time~

press junkets started and you were a little stressed. this was your first time doing a bunch of interviews and it was mind-boggling.

“percy, i’m freaking out. how do you do this?” your nervously chewed on your finger nail staring at him with wide eyes.

“relax, i’m gonna be right here with you. you’re not alone, okay?” he walks up to you and slowly took your hand that you were currently chewing on.

“i know i know. but what if i don’t answer a question the right way or say something dum-“

percy shakes his head and firmly squeezed your hand, making sure not to hurt you but to get the point across.

“i promise you, you are gonna do just fine. i know this is nerve racking for you but you are not alone. you never will be alone. you got emma, joy, jenna, hunter, and me. we’re gonna be with you the whole day.”

“you’re right. perc you always know the right things to say,” you lean on your toes to place a kiss upon his cheek.

“what can i say? i’m an expert at making people feel better.” you laughed at his joke before lightly pushing him away.

“you sure are cocky but it’s okay i like that about you. at least sometimes,” you nudged his arm with a grin. he grins right back at you.

you were gonna be the death of him and you didn’t even know it.

-

~he finally tells you~

percy was pacing back and forth in the hotel room. there was only 10 minutes left before everyone had to leave for the la premiere red carpet. but all he could think about is you. you’ve been plaguing his mind since day one. each small yet meaningful moment alone with you was something he’d never take for granted.

“percy you’re going to walk a hole into the floor if you keep pacing like that.” georgie had been sitting with the frantic boy since he called him.

“it’s been almost a year and i still can’t get her out of my mind. there isn’t a minute where i don’t think about her beautiful smile or the sweet smell of her vanilla perfume.”

“i think you should tell her,” georgie stops to look down at his phone. “we have a couple minutes left.”

that’s all it took before percy rushes out of the room. he doesn’t look back either, eyes set on getting to your hotel room. when he makes it to your door which was just down the hallway, he knocks desperately.

“percy! you look good. what’s up?” you opened the door with that smile he loves so much. he takes one second to look at you dressed in a black gown that had a rhinestone top and a tulle like bottom.

“perc? are you okay?”

percy doesn’t think while leaning down and gently grabbing your face to pull you into a kiss. you were shocked but quickly began to kiss him back. the kiss is rough however soft and desperate. he let every single feeling he felt for you pour into that kiss.

when you finally pulled away to get air, the only thing that was heard was the heavy breathing. keeping his hand on your cheek, he bent his head down to rest against your forehead.

“what i’m trying to say is i love you.”





[eclipsewxtch]

unpopular opinion: i actually don’t hate emma swan in seasons 1-3 regarding her inserting herself as a mom-figure to henry. “but she was inserting herself after she gave him up! she didn’t raise him! she’s not his real mother! she pushed regina out of the way!”

like. i hate that everyone acts like emma didn’t have incredibly valid reasons to distrust/dislike regina (post-season 1) AND to not trust regina around henry AND to “act like his mom” considering henry, a child barely older than 10, traveled from maine to boston (4 hr bus ride) to ESCAPE regina n convince emma to COME BACK to “save the town” and to stop regina??Henry ranted and raved at every opportunity (even to regina’s face!!) that he thought she was EVIL and DARK, literally to ANYBODY WHO LISTENED; Henry, himself, made it VERY CLEAR that he viewed emma as more of a mother when she wasn’t even present in his life for a decade and he was aware that she GAVE HIM UP even if he didn’t know the reason... (which he eventually did when regina put it in the local newspaper that emma gave him up when she was in prison which was lowkey sick omg???)

like i think it’s more of a green flag that emma stepped up in what was obviously an unhealthy situation because henry was suffering (being treated like he was crazy; unfairly put in therapy/ostracized by regina) and with regina obviously exerting control over henry the way cora did to her all those years ago… like from a non-magical, “let’s assume henry WAS crazy” stand-point; regina had a point. emma wasn’t his mom, she gave him up, she signed an agreement. legally she had no rights. BUT henry wasn’t crazy, there is magic, n regina atp WAS evil. so. emma was right.

does that mean that i think henry didn’t love regina in some way? no, he clearly does care for regina—but are u saying that if some kid traveled four hours by himself at ten yrs old to meet u, his parent who gave him up, talking on and on abt how EVIL his adopted mother is — even if u did assume henry was delusional, wouldn’t it be concerning? wouldn’t u want to get him away from her too? n considering emma was in foster care ofc she had reservations abt regina…

like. regina ended up POISONING henry (even if she didn’t mean it, n henry bit the apple pastry for emma to prove magic was real) her actions had consequences and i see so much emma slander as if she wasn’t in the right??? ts genuinely confused me.

i love regina, i do, she is one of my favorite characters. her character development, her backstory, her personality—all wonderful things. i adore her. but that woman had several screws all lefty loosey up in there n everybody just casually forgets it???

that being said, i think that makes it even more impressive that regina managed (eventually) to gain emma’s trust and friendship after all that bs😭 but re-watching s1 is not for the weak bro

[spartanguard]

an important date

it's Friday and it's Colin's birthday....I had to do something!! Just a bit of a post-canon Captain Charming scene, inspired by this prompt: "We both meet at the bar at a birthday party but we don’t even know who’s birthday it is. I think it’s yours, you think it’s mine." 1.1k, rated T | AO3

The Rabbit Hole was…well, the Rabbit Hole—its usual divy self. It wasn’t where Killian would typically expect to find David, least of all on the prince’s birthday.

At least—he thought that’s what Emma had said? She’d all but shoved him out of the station that evening, with the direction to meet her father here for a “birthday drink”. Of the birth dates he’d memorized (and would never forget—Emma’s, Henry’s, Hope’s), he realized he was severely lacking when it came to his in-laws.

But perhaps David’s would be easier to remember, given its proximity to his own. Or, rather, when he thought his own was; the actual date was long since lost to time, realm travel, and changing calendars, and it had been centuries since he’d actually done anything to mark the date, but he remembered it being in spring. 

Really the only fond memory he had of the day was picking fresh wildflowers with his mother, the light scent filling their small house, and the sweet taste of the modest cake she’d baked. When the hyacinth began to bloom in Storybrooke, he was always taken back to that day, and generally used that milestone to mark the passing of his years—but he’d lived enough of them that he needed no extra celebration or recognition.

As it was, the first shoots of spring had only just begun to emerge, so by his math, that put David’s birthday—or whatever today was—a few weeks ahead of his own. Good to know.

He scanned the bar for his mate—squinting a bit harder than he’d like to admit in the dim light (further evidence of the passage of time, he presumed)—almost missing him at the far end of the counter, until David waved at him.

“Evening, mate,” he greeted as he slid onto the barstool next to his father-in-law. “Not your typical scene, eh?” he added, nodding towards the rest of the bar, where all manner of seedy goings-on (well, as much as ever happened in Storybrooke) were happening—things the deputy sheriff should probably be concerned with, but he was off the clock (and had no room to talk).

David shrugged. “I’ve been known to pass the occasional night here—cursed and not cursed. Having royalty around seems to keep things calm.”

“Aye, but you’ve never been here with a pirate,” he winked back, even if it had been ages since he’d anything resembling a rowdy night. The most exciting his had been lately were the times that they managed to get a teething Hope down early enough to squeeze in some intimacy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Emma’s father.

“No,” David agreed. “But I figured I could manage for one night. To mark the occasion and all.”

“Aye; it does warrant that. My apologies for not knowing the date sooner—happy birthday, Dave.”

But instead of the customary thanks, David just tilted his head at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

Bloody hell—had he misheard Emma? “We’re here to celebrate your day of birth, are we not?”

“No; my birthday is in July—so now I kind of am offended,” David replied, though his tone was light. “Wait—did Emma not tell you?”

“She told me to meet you here for a birthday drink—I assumed that meant it was yours.”

“No, man—it’s yours.”

“Come again?” He’d never so much as commented to anyone, including Emma, the whereabouts of birth date; so how would either of them, least of all David, have known?

David explained, “Remember near the end of her pregnancy, when her magic was kind of overpowered and she was trying to release it?” How could Killian forget? He spent a whole week with blue hair, and trying to keep Pop-Tarts from flying around the house. “Apparently during that, she was trying out a bunch of easy, informational spells; there was one about revealing birthdates. Turned out mine was off by a couple of days. But yeah, she did yours, too; she never mentioned it?”

Killian was momentarily speechless. Not out of betrayal or anything—things were rather chaotic leading up to Hope’s birth, so he didn’t blame Emma for letting it slip her mind—but moreso that it had been able to be determined.

And, despite the last several years being filled with things such as True Love, marriages, and more family than he’d ever imagined having, he was still touched by the idea that anyone cared enough about him to know the date he’d entered this world (or whichever world it was)—and even more that they wanted to acknowledge it. 

“Uh, no,” he said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “I seem to recall her pregnancy brain was pretty bad then,” he quipped, hoping to lighten the moment. “So—really? Today?”

“Today,” David confirmed. Killian thought back to the wildflowers—then recalled that he grew up in a far warmer climate than Maine’s, perhaps the reason for his miscalculation.

(Also: he now understood why Emma had woken him with morning sex that day. That was never something he’d question, though—and also something he wouldn’t dare mention in present company.)

The barkeep then set two glasses of amber liquid in front of David. He slid one across the worn wood to Killian, then raised his own. “Happy birthday, Killian. To the best son-in-law—best friend—a man could ask for.”

Killian clinked his glass against David’s and quickly took a sip, hoping it might wash down the lump that had formed in his throat. Alas, it didn’t—but at least it was there with good reason. “Thank you, mate; and, uh, the feeling is mutual.” It wasn’t often words escaped him, so hopefully his father-in-law picked up on the weight of the emotion in his voice; he tried to find David’s eyes, but was overcome with an odd bashfulness he hadn’t felt since youth.

David just gave a gentle chuckle and a solid, brotherly thump on the shoulder, before attempting to down his own shot of rum—which brought on laughter of a different kind, but it broke the bit of tension. 

They shared another drink after (whiskey; far more palatable to the prince), before leaving to their respective princesses—and sharing perhaps a stronger embrace than Killian had originally intended, but it was certainly called for. 

As sweet as his memories from childhood were, it was nice to add this one to the collection of birthday remembrances—the first in so long. (And, as he eventually found, not the last—not by a long shot—in the many years to come.)

(However, he still refused, in all those celebrations, to tell David the way Emma preferred to mark the occasion.)

-----------------------------💙💙-------------------------------

[thanks for reading, and happy Captain Charming Friday! tags below cut]

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[honeyspawn]

Some ideas about Paul's family:

Option 1: Jon Matteson Fmily Tree - full-transparency, the Jon Matteson family tree has never really been my personal favorite, or at the very least, the idea of Paul specifically having a big chaotic extended family has never felt very "Paul" to me. Paul has always struck me as such a solitary entity in Hatchetfield, or at least until Emma shows up. That being said, I won't deny that the idea is fun. That being said, I think if we're gonna go with the whole Paul is Richie's uncle thing, I don't think he's literally the brother of one of Richie's parents. I think "uncle" in this case is used in the general way a kid refers to an adult relative, and he's more of a distant cousin. I don't really know how to explain it, but I simply cannot picture Paul with siblings. Overall though, to me, I think I prefer the idea of Gary and Boy Jerry being Richie's uncles, and Paul is just kinda separate.

Option 2: Generic Retirees - I've mentioned this in another post, but something about Paul having no relatives in Hatchetfield even though he's lived there his whole life there feels very "Paul" to me. I suppose you could conclude from this that his parents are dead, but seeing as he's only in his early 30s and that implies his parents probably died kind of young (probably somewhere in the 50s-70s range depending on how old they were when Paul was born and when they died), I like the idea instead that the explanation is the most boring one possible; they retired in Florida. Their names are Arthur and Martha Matthews, or something similarly generic. They are the most boring 60 year old couple imaginable. Arthur likes to garden. Martha likes bird watching. They have no other hobbies. They visit Paul a couple times a year. They are constantly trying to convince Paul to move to Florida. They are the Matthews family. They are boring.

Option 3: Crack Theory Time - This is insane, and I don't really believe this theory, but the idea came to me one day and I the thought wouldn't leave my head, so I need to share it. So the idea behind this is Paul is such a singular entity that it's almost enigmatic, or at least it would be if anyone cared that much. Paul never talks about his family to anyone. He never really thinks about his family, and he feels like he's been on his own for a long time. That's not to say he doesn't remember having a family. He had a mom. She was nice. It was a shame she passed away 15 years ago. And when he starts dating Emma and she asks about his family, that's all he has to say. "I had a mom. She was nice. It was a shame she passed away 15 years ago." He remembers having a mother, but he doesn't really remember anything that specific about her. He's not sure why. He never thinks too deeply about it. He's not sure he can properly recall her face unless he's looking at an old scrapbook. It's strange, though. As soon as he puts the scrapbook back on the shelf, it's like he forgets again. All that really sticks is he had a mom. She was nice. It's a shame she passed away 15 years ago. It's not like he didn't love her, of course he did, she was his mom. And she was a good mom too, he's sure of it. One thing he does remember though, is before she died, she had a long talk with him. He can't remember about what exactly, but he knows it was important. He's pretty sure she was saying goodbye. If you've watched nightmare time, you may have guessed where I'm going with this. I don't really know where this idea of mine that Miss Holloway is Paul's mom came from, it just kind of seemed like Paul being a mysteriously solo entity in Hatchetfield makes sense, and this seemed like an interesting explanation. It also would tie into the fact that Paul might have a slight latent resistance to the LiBs. In tgwdlm, Paul has a whole musical number where he resists the Hive while being infected, while the only other times anyone gets infected on stage, it's a matter of seconds. Paul is also one of the only adult characters who sees through Tickle-Me-Wiggly; even Emma thinks Tim would want a Wiggly "more than anything." Do I think this is all some insane foreshadowing? Absolutely not. This seems extremely unlikely to me, and a product of my own over-thinking, but it sure is fun to think about anyway. (Also, I've never seen anything about this online before, but if this is an existing fan theory, please let me know. The Miss Matthews theory, if you will)

Option 4: He Doesn't Have One - Paul does not have a family. He is just Paul. It's not important for Paul to have a family because they are not relevant, and therefore, they simply do not exist. This also seems very possible to me, and tbh feels appropriate, both for Paul, and for Hatchetfield. I mean heck, according to Curt Mega his shopper character in Black Friday is literally named "Shopper No. 4". Paul just straight up not having a family because he's Just A Guy™️ feels right.

Wow, this was a lot, actually. If you read this whole thing, thanks for letting me infodump, and I'd love to hear what you think.

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

One of Your Kind (Ch. 7)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10

Word count: 4.2K

Summary: your birthday party gets ruined and so does the last month of filming. What else could go wrong?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of past trauma

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

———

March 2022

Well, you and Jenna had finally established your relationship and the two of you had the most perfect of relationships. You had recovered well from the gunshot but Jenna always made sure you didn’t overwork yourself even if now you could do everything like you used to before. Jenna always wore the necklace you got her, and even posted it on instagram. The two of you didn’t make your relationship public and you hadn’t even talked about it yet, you just wanted to let it flow naturally and see where it led you. Until She was filming, you were sure that your relationship was gonna stay private, because Jenna didn’t have time for interviews and paparazzi weren’t around, even though there were a couple articles from when you and her were seen together at the airport, but no one really thought anything of it because knowing that you were her director they thought it was a business trip.

Your birthday was approaching. It had been years since you last celebrated it, you just spent it like a normal days. You didn’t usually hear happy birthday songs, you didn’t receive any gift and you liked it like this. You weren’t one for attentions which is why you didn’t say anything about your birthday to the people on set, except for Jenna and you specifically told her that you wanted no gift, you didn’t want to celebrate it because you had been doing it like this since forever… which is exactly what led Jenna to set up a surprise party for you. “Okay, so what we’re gonna do is, the local is all set up and we just need to-“ Jenna’s speech was interrupted by Emma telling her to shut up as you were there. You walked over to Jenna and wrapped your arms around her from behind. “Good evening Jen” you said and kissed her cheek, you hadn’t seen her all morning but just holding her was enough for you. “Hey you” she said and turned around in your arms, putting her own around your shoulder. She knew better than to wish you happy birthday in front of everyone else.

Emma and the others left to give the two of you some privacy, and You just smiled at her and moved a few hair out of her face. “You look gorgeous as always” you told her as you just snuggled in to hide your face in the crook of her neck. She giggled and held you close, kissing your forehead. “What’s up with the compliments today?” She asked as you looked up at her, with a shrug and a loving smile. “Am I not allowed to compliment my girlfriend?” You said and kissed her jaw softly. You were the kind of girl that loved physical contact and lucky for you, Jenna was the same. She giggled again “you’re very cuddly too” she said and brushed her own nose with yours. “Mhhh yes. It’s my birthday and I want to spend it with you” Jenna smiled and cuddled with you until it was tine to ger back on set. She loved this side of you and she was glad you were slowly opening up yourself more, you were completely yourself only around her and she couldn’t be happier.

That day, you’d always find a moment to at least hug her or steal her a kiss between a scene and the other. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? At least we can spend some more quality time together” she said as you were setting up for her next scene “that sounds really nice” you said and smiled at her. Good, Jenna thought, at least she had convinced you to go out for dinner, so that the surprise party could actually happen. She told you to dress up nicely as she had something “cute” planned, and you were really, really curious. As the car approached the local you couldn’t help but try and push on the subject “oh come on! Just a little hint?” You said, squeezing her hand to get her to stop walking, but she only smiled slightly. “You’ll see when we get in” she replied, to which you huffed and rolled your eyes, deciding to just give in on the subject.

“SURPRISE!” Someone yelled as soon as you and Jenna made your way inside the local. You jumped out of fear definitely not expecting this, as you looked around. It was the cast of the show, the only and best friends you had made there and in your whole career and life. They all started singing happy birthday and you blushed, covering your face with your hands and once again, hiding it in the crook of Jenna’s neck, who only giggled at the situation and played with your hair for a few seconds before you pulled back and looked at your friends. They had all made their way over to you. Cake in hand with some candles on as you blew them off with a huge smile plastered on your face. “Was this your idea?” You said turning to look at Jenna, who obviously nodded and that made you giggle. After you blew off the candles, Everyone clapped their hands and wished you a happy birthday, also hugging you.

You had made Jenna promise she wouldn’t get you any gifts, and somehow she kept her promise… but her in own ways. She told everyone not to get you any gift and they didn’t but Jenna did get you a present. She was your girlfriend after all and she couldn’t let you spend your birthday without a gift. “I… I know you didn’t want me to, but I got you a present…” she said, holding a small bag, obviously coming from a jewelry. “Jenna… this is why I don’t want any gifts” you said, clearly smiling as you took the small bag in your hands. “I didn’t want you to spend money for me” you started opening it and inside the bag was a small, square box. You shot Jenna a confused glare as she smiled, inviting you to open the box and that you did, inside of it were two beautiful, silver rings. Your jaw dropped at the sight as you took the small rings, you didn’t know what to say “y-you-“ you babbled out something incomprehensible and that made Jenna laugh, as she took the box with the rings.

“It’s silver. I had them customized… mine has your name carved on the inside and yours has my name… god saying this out loud makes this awkward, but I want people to know you’re mine” she said and took your left hand, sliding the ring on your ring finger as you did the same, looking at her with heart eyes as you felt the three words burn the tip of your tongue, apparently she was thinking the same because “I love you” she said, and you raised your hand to caress her cheek, “I love you too” you leaned in for a sweet soft kiss. Every time you kissed her you felt shivers down your spine and that feeling will always be your favorite.

Unfortunately for you, all good things had to get ruined by something. Your phone rang, and the caller read ‘Mamma’ [Mom] . The smile immediately disappeared from your face, she hasn’t called ever since you moved to America, not even a text, a merry Christmas message, nothing. But now she was calling you and you didn’t know what to do. Should you reply, should you not reply? You opted for the first one. Luckily everyone was distracted so you took advantage of the moment to leave the room and sneak out on the balcony. the local had been booked fully for this occasion which meant that aside from you and the cast, there was no one else and the balcony was empty.

[to make things easier for you I’ll write the conversation in English, just know that it’s supposed to be in Italian]

“Hello?” You answered, your voice low and hesitant, as if she was calling to yell at you. “(Y/N), my child… how are you?” It had been ages since you last heard her voice and it seemed… soft. Yet you didn’t want to fall for her trap like you always did when you were younger. “What do you want mom?” Your voice was still hesitant. But throughout the years you had learned how to be more bold, and react to situations. You had built this huge wall between you and your parents now, you never would have expected them to call. “I just called to wish you happy birthday… how have you been?” She seemed genuine, and tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of her finally caring. “I’m… fine” you still refused to open up to them, you didn’t completely trust your parents. The two of you talked for a while, occasional tears leaving your eyes thinking that maybe, your parents finally cared about you. “That’s good… look uhm- your father’s sick and we could use your help.”

Oh.

That was it, this was the reason she had called you. She never wanted to wish you a happy birthday, she didn’t want to know how you had been. “You never wanted to wish me a happy birthday, did you?” You finally said, you didn’t hear an answer coming from the other side of the cellphone. “You called me, had me thinking that you cared just so you could ask me for money!?” The answer came quicker than expected “you owe us-“ “I owe you nothing! What have you done for me, huh? You never showed me you cared, you never supported me, hell at 16 I had to find a job, how is that caring?” You yelled over the phone, at the moment you didn’t care if people heard you. Tears started spilling out faster from your eyes, you heard as your mother tried to justify herself but you weren’t having any of it. “Never call me again mom. I don’t want to hear from you ever again” you said and hung up the phone. You looked at the view from the balcony and just cried your heart out, what is it with people having to ruin the best moments?

In the meantime your friends inside the bar were having a blast. They were all drinking and dancing and having fun, until Jenna noticed you weren’t there anymore. “Guys have you seen (Y/N)?” They all shook their head and Jenna walked around the local, looking everywhere for you until she found you standing alone outside in the balcony. As soon as she was outside with you, she heard you sniffle. “Are you okay? Don’t you like the party-“ you interrupted her. “My mom called,” you started and Jenna stood next to you, looking at you. Your nose was red and your eyes too, but you refused to look at Jenna. “And is it a bad thing?” She asked, voice low, not wanting you to get upset. You never talked about your mother to Jenna and you realized that now it was the time to do so. “In my life, she never supported me, she never showed me any kind of love, never helped me when I was struggling during covid,” you sniffled, more tears coming our of your eyes and Jenna wrapped an arm around you.

“When I came to America, I never heard from her again. Ever. She was just out of my life. But today She called me, wishing me a happy birthday and we talked for a while, she seemed genuine” Jenna rubbed your back trying to calm you down. “Then she told me that my father is sick, and that she wanted my money because I “owed” them…” you sobbed out and covered your face, Jenna pulled you into a tight hug, letting you cry as much as you needed. She didn’t care if her dress was getting soaked, she knew you needed it. “I really, really thought they cared for once” you said pulling back from her, and she wiped your tears, trying to fix your smudged make up “look at me” she said, resting her hand on your cheek “you have a family,” she started, and you looked at her, leaning in for the touch. “You have me. You have the rest of the cast… and you have my family, too. They love you even if they met you once and my parents will always treat you like one of their children. So you’re not alone, okay?” She said and kissed your cheek, which made you smile slightly.

“Do you want to leave?” She asked you, she knew you probably didn’t want the others seeing you like this, so you nodded and you all left the party, getting back to your trailers where you slept with Jenna cuddling you.

April 2022

Well, your birthday was a blast. After it getting ruined by your parents, you thought that nothing else could make this experience in Romania worse. Right? Wrong. It was the last month of filming and you and Tim were panicking. There were lots of things to be done still, scenes to be shots and stunts to be made, and staff shortage. Almost everyone’s contract had expired and slowly but surely everyone was leaving set. You needed more people for this last month and Tim made it his mission to find someone, anyone that could do the job of the people whose contract was expired and he did find someone and today they would be coming on set.

“Okay everyone, so these are the people that would be helping us for this last month. Please make them feel welcomed and comfortable” Tim said something else, but you had already gone pale: Madeline, your Ex, was between those people and was smirking at you with that devilish grin of hers as she waved at you. The girl who had hurt you so much, who only used you for sex and who ruined your life for the most part was there in front of you and probably ready to ruin your life once again. “Are you okay?” Jenna asked you, taking you out of that trance state you found yourself in. You were feeling sick and it was happening really fast. You looked between her and Madeline and before you knew it you were running out from the set, kneeling down by the closest bush you found as you threw up that morning’s breakfast. Of course Jenna ran behind you, immediately holding your hair back as she waited for you to finish throwing up.

When you were finished Jenna took a tissue and cleaned your mouth. “What’s wrong?” She asked you and you looked at her with teary eyes, she seemed confused. “T-that girl, Madeline… She’s my ex” saying this out loud only made you throw up again and Jenna once again took a hold of your hair. Her expression had completely changed from a worried one to a really mad one, she was gonna make this girl’s life a living hell during this month. Jenna once again cleaned your mouth when you were finished throwing up and then the two of you went back inside, where people had already started working - Madeline included. Of course as you went to work as well she had to come to you. “So… how have you been?” She asked, you seriously thought about yelling at her, but you didn’t want to cause any troubles. “What are you doing here?” You ignored her question and she sighed, smirking at you. She was too close for your own likings.

“Relax, I didn’t know that you were here. It was a pure coincidence” you sighed and chuckled. “Yeah right.” She smirked as well “well do you want to grab something to eat together tonight?” She put a hand on your arm, and you quickly moved away from her. “No I don’t want to. And don’t fucking touch me” you said, obviously she chuckled again. “Hmmm feisty. Looks like I’ll have my hands full with you” she bit her lip, making you angrier “you will do nothing with me. The only thing you need to do is to get the fuck out of my face” you spat out, glaring at her as you went back to what you were doing. You knew that she was definitely not gonna leave you alone. Jenna kept her eyes on her and tried to be close to you as best as she could, not ever leaving you alone with her, and not letting her interact with you for longer than needed and it worked, up until some point.

You were in your trailer, waiting for Jenna to finish filming. You and her were supposed to have a movie night, with popcorns and cuddles, just like you loved. You had everything set up and were waiting for her to show up. You heard knocking on the door and obviously you thought it was her so you opened the door “hey Jen-“ you were quickly shut up when Madeline made her way into the trailer, shutting the door close behind her as she pushed you to the wall opposite the door. “How long as it been my dear?” She said, hands on your waist as she kept you pinned against the wall. “M-Madeline, let me go” you said, scared of the possibilities of this scenario. What if Jenna walked in? What would she think? What was Madeline gonna do to you “owh come on, we both know you have been waiting for me to pin you up against the wall like this” she sounded so sure of herself.

“I have a girlfriend,” you started “and she will be here soon so you should leave soon” you hoped that this would make her stop, but instead it only made her giggle. “And you think that’s going to stop me? We both know that she can’t make you scream like I do…” You froze at that, realizing that she wasn’t going to stop. “You don’t known what she’s capable of” this was your last resource. Jenna did take kung fu lessons and you knew that she had quite a lot of strength. “Well neither does she” Madeline replied and within milliseconds her lips were on your neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin “n-no! Stop-“ you cried out, but you couldn’t help the whimper that came out when she bit down on your pulse point. You tried pushing her away but she was stronger then you and pinned you down, hands sneaking under your shirt. “Get off of me!” You yelled, you were now crying, you didn’t want this, not at all.

Eventually and finally, you heard knocks on your door. You knew that it was Jenna. “JENNA PLEASE HELP” you yelled/sobbed out and Madeline wasted no time in covering your mouth. Too late, Jenna had heard you. “Honey? What’s going on in there?” She tried to open the door, but it was locked from the inside. However she could hear your muffled cries and she didn’t like this one bit. “Open the door!” She yelled when she realized that you weren’t going to open it. She was to short to look through the windows of your trailer, but luckily her panicked voice didn’t go unnoticed. The rest of the cast noticed her struggle and walked over to her, Percy and Georgie kicking the door until it eventually flung open, and Jenna didn’t like what she saw one bit. Madeline wasn’t stopping, and Jenna clenched her jaw, walking inside the trailer as she grabbed the girl’s hair, pulling them until the girl was facing her and whimpering of pain.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jenna started, if looks could kill, Madeline would definitely be underground by now. “Giving her what you can’t give her” Madeline said, which made Jenna pull her hair more. “Hear me out” Jenna said, pushing the girl against a wall “your story with her has long finished, and I’m sure she wants nothing else to do with you. She has another girlfriend now.” Jenna warned “that has never stopped-“ the girl was interrupted by another whimper of pain of Jenna pulling her hair more. “If I ever see you around her, look at her and even feel your smell… and if you ever lay another finger on her,” she started walking to the door pulling the girl alongside her “I will end you” Jenna said and basically threw the girl outside of the trailer. “Get the fuck away from here. This set doesn’t need you.” The girl walked away “nobody touches what’s mine” Jenna finally made her way over to you. You had crumbled down on the floor, bracing yourself as Emma and johnna were trying to comfort you.

“Can you please leave us alone?” Jenna asked, and the two girls nodded before leaving the two of you alone “I- I was so scared Jen” you said and looked at her, tears in your eyes as Jenna caressed your cheeks. “I know babe… but she’s gone. I’m gonna make sure Tim fires her and you’re never gonna see her again” you nodded and leaned in for the touch, Jenna looked at your neck, where that bitch was just moments before. She had left some marks, but they were faint, luckily. “We’re gonna make these disappear with some ice” she said and you nodded, Jenna could still see the tears in your eyes, and she pulled you in a loving, comforting hug.

———

That was it.

The last scene had been shot, and everyone had erupted in cheers and applauses to the cast, they were all hugging and laughing, you couldn’t help but feel happy, maybe a little nostalgic, too? You were certainly going to miss these peeps, especially Emma and the girls, in these months you had bonded a lot with them and you wanted to see them again. You hoped you would get to see them again because truly, these were the only friends you had. As it always happened on set, everyone from the cast made as speech and last but not least, was Jenna. “What to say… this has been an incredibly amazing experience, I have never been away from home for longer than a month and a half and at first this felt surreal, it still feels that way. It was hard, there were moments where I wanted to give up, there were moments where I was scared to ruin this role because the amazing Christina Ricci here has done it before me and I stressed myself over making this as perfect as I could”

She giggled, and so did the people watching and listening to her. “But I had support, I had a lot of it. The amazing cast, the staff, and (Y/N)… I never thought I’d find love on set, but here I am and she has been the biggest support ever since” oh no, she wanted to drag you into this. You blushed and looked at her with a huge smile “she has her struggles but she always found time for me and I couldn’t be happier. I love you” she said and you mouthed an ‘I love you too’ but suddenly you were being pushed towards her. “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss” everyone kept repeating and suddenly Jenna took a hold of your hand, pulling you into a sweet kiss which you immediately reciprocated, and when the two of you pulled back, still being only inches away Jenna whispered again “I love you so much” “me too baby” you said and hugged her.

It was only days later when you made your way to the airport with her. You both had to go back to LA as she was going home and you were too, so you were in the same plane. No one of you had talked about making the relationship public or not, but it was clear from the way you both acted at the airport that you wanted to keep it private, for now at least. Luckily when you arrived there weren’t any paparazzi because your plane had landed in the middle of the night but still you needed to be careful. You had to part your ways as soon as you got out of the airport as two different cars were waiting for you. “Text me when you get home okay?” You told her, as you made your way towards her car first. “Yes don’t worry love” she said with a small, loving smile. She loved how caring you were with her when you had to part. “And say hi to your family for me” she giggled “we will literally live 15 minutes away-“ you interrupted her “shhh let me be the caring girlfriend” you said smiling and helped her get in the car. “Can I steal a kiss? I’m sure no one will see us if I sneak my head in the car” you said pouting and she nodded, pulling you in for a sweet, sleepy kiss. “I love you” she said smiling “I love you too baby. Text me when you get home” you reminded her, and she nodded.

You watched her car leave and then you got into yours, smiling at yourself as you thought of the summer with her that awaited you.

A/N: welll a bit of a more active chapter. Filming has ended! They’ll definitely spend a hot girls summer together👀

Tags: @idkjustliving2 @tundra1029 @engenelxver @rainbow-love4ever @gimaximoff @smromanoff @wol-fica @lum13 @eviekensington @wifeyjennaortega @i984

[tragedry]

I CALL WILDCARD, EVERYTHING IS YOUR CHOICE, RAMBLE MY FRIEND

i will in fact indulge in the rambling anon, thanks!

let's do ashler plus a bunch of random questions cause i cannot be stopped now that i have an excuse to yap about my two pookies!! >:3

3. Are they into PDA? Who initiates most?

nope, but in the times where they're both fine with skin contact, ty would be the one to initiate it most of the time. it would usually be simple touches like holding ashlyn's hand or grazing his knuckle on her arm or face. he also ruffles her hair when he can get away with it!

7. Who's clumsier?

ashlyn, but only when her thought's are pretty loud and she's too distracted to pay attention to where she's walking. thankfully, ty's there to stop her from walking straight to a post.

8. Who is a morning person? Who is a night owl?

ty rises with the sun while ashlyn rises with the moon! this is literally how their morning starts lmao

(i may have spent more than five mins making this meme)

17. Who is more competitive?

both are insanely competitive! they will compete at just about anything they think the other would suck at (but it's all in good fun, plus the winner gets to tell the loser what to do afterwards)

19. What do they fight about most often? (Alternative: what was their biggest fight?)

Alternative: their biggest fight was when ashlyn couldn't stop feeling guilty for what had happened to tyler, so whenever they're in a dangerous situation, she'd take unnecessary risks in order to save him. tyler caller her out for being too reckless, and the argument only intensifies when ashlyn tries to justify her actions.

the argument goes on for a while until ty's managed to for her hand and she finally admits why she's so reckless and desperate to put her own life in danger-- and it's solely cause she didn't want to see him hurt ever again. and ty isn't necessarily comforted by her answer, bc he isn't used to being the one on the receiving end of someone else's sacrifice, but at least he knows now why she did what she did.

in the end, they'll talk it out and find a way to resolve the issue together.

20. Who randomly brings home a stray puppy/kitten to adopt?

ashlyn, but only to nurse the stray back to full health, and then she and tyler will take it to a shelter for adoption.

but it's all good until ashlyn gets too attached to a stray puppy they found one afternoon.......

22. Love languages? How do they get around differences, if any?

'acts of service' is practically hanging above both of their heads asfkhaflash

actions have always spoken louder for them when it comes to professing their affection! a home cooked meal left in ashlyn's fridge when she's too tired to make anything herself, or tyler waking up to find the dishes he still left at the sink already washed and put away.

they will always take each other's load if they can, because it may be heavy, but they are worth it.

24. Sleeping/cuddling positions? (Big spoon, little spoon, etc.)?

ashlyn is little spoon, but it takes a lot of grumbling on her part to finally accept such a role.

39. Do they get along with the other's family? If not, how do they deal with the other's family?

ash and tay are besties through and through, and mariana is very fond of her!

ty is practically the golden boy(friend) in ash's house. he's responsible, no nonesesne when it comes to dating her, and he is always so helpful around the house, and would always visit with a flower for emma and a polite greeting to mike.

plus he cooks!!!

(i think that's it for the otp ask game! thank you all for sending me your ships and asks!)

[m-ilkiee]

HIII IM BACK!! Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense btw. My mind is lowkey blank rn, and idek what I say sometimes. Anyways ONTO THE TOPIC.

First off all, Mikey… Sigh, where do I even start… He’s interesting to me. For me, he's hot and cold, and he switches up so fast that he’d most likely give you a whiplash (could be because of his dark impulse? I’m not sure yet). Speaking of that, when would his dark impulse come out? Or when would it “shine” the most? I’m curious how the reader would react to that or how it’ll impact the story. Very many different ways, and they all will be terrible I’m sure… I’m so excited for new updates but also hella fucking terrified lmao. I’d say out of the two, I think Mikey is a bit more lenient. Not to say he’s not cruel, but he wouldn’t be AS cruel to her like Izana would. Though, since he doesn’t physically abuse reader, I can tell his mind games bouta be CRAZYYYY. MANIPULATIVE MF ISTG. That scene in the car still traumatizes me. Mf had the audacity to put the blame and shame on HER WHEN HE FUCKING QNDJFKFK IM SO MAD JUST THINKING ABOUT IT AAAA. Also, this is probably a minor detail, but him in a criminology class is lowkey funny to me lol. I’m surprised he’s actually attending classes. Does Izana do the same? Or would he not give a fuck?

Next, Izana. You crazy mf imma strangle you too- Mf said “I’m a king so kneel☝️🤓” BITCH U LOOK LIKE A LASH BUG STFU- (me when I know my dumbass would fold immediately when he told me that). Chapter 2 got me soooo fucked up, especially towards the end. My only saving grace is Kakucho fr, ik he’d never let me down🤞🤞 Izana is also manipulative af, but he’s ALSO not afraid to get physical with reader if he has to. I feel like the only reason why he DOESN’T is because of Emma. Or else the reader would’ve been 6 feet under I fear…HOWEVER!! I saw the post of a small spoiler for chapter 3, the one where he’s talking with Kisaki. Even though I’m not quite sure yet, when Kisaki asks Izana if he’s feeling guilty for pushing the reader to the edge like that, THAT got me thinking. Can Izana of all people feel guilty for almost making her commit suicide? He did say he thought about killing her himself at first, so what’s stopping him really? I have a feeling he wouldn’t develop any romantic feelings for her (yet?) this early on in the series (but I could be wrong, who knows), so why is he bothered at the thought of her dying? Killing people left and right is like a normal Tuesday for him. What do you think? I’m curious.

Damn… this makes me think, what would happen if the reader isn’t friends with Emma? Would she attract the attention of those two? Or would they not interact at all? I think they most likely wouldn’t treat her as badly since she doesn’t affect their relationship with Emma in any way if they aren’t friends, but then again, it’s Mikey and Izana we’re talking about… For some reason, I think Izana would be the first one to notice the reader instead of Mikey. I think her kind and gentle nature would catch his attention without them interacting since I’m sure he’s very perceptive (which is interesting considering how he is.) As for Mikey…would he even go for someone like her in the first place? Ik everyone’s game to him but idk, I feel like Mikey prefers someone who can keep up with him in a way, or at least matches his energy u know? She’s so fragile, he gon break her…

Okay, enough yapping for now lmao. I really enjoy talking about this with you!! It’s very very fun :)) (I have no one else who knows about monsters to yap to😔)

Okay okay

To answer your question, yep, it is the dark impulses that makes Mikey acts that way, especially around people that make him tick. And oh boy the further Monsters goes as a story, the more outspoken those dark impulses would be for him towards reader. You're completely spot on about Mikey being lenient with reader, as long as she does what he says and accepts his gifts or affection when he gives it, then everything will be fine. Eventually it won't be enough to just do what he says because of how unhinged he'd become as he loses himself to the darkness. As for reader, she's slowly realizing that there's something wrong with Mikey and she's going to try her best to placate Mikey whene those dark impulses eventually seep out until she can't take that kind of abuse anymore.

Izana does nawt like to attend classes. He pays someone to do it for him. Mikey enjoys his classes sometimes but hates how boring lectures can be

Izana is someone that would NOT hesitate to smack reader if she said something he didn't like ONCE. Really, he HAS gotten rid of people that pissed him off once, reader is lucky that Emma cared about her or he would have sold her into prostitution and nobody would have known. As for that snippet, that was based on the old chapter 2 before the edit, but Izana isn't completely heartless towards the reader. He has thought of murdering her himself, but at the same time he feels pity for her since she's as good as an orphan with how her parents abandoned her like his did. So that's what I think.

If she wasn't friends with Emma, her treatment would be far better, but not exactly good. Izana would be the first to notice her, but when he does get reader, she'd be more of a pet or an object rather than a human being to him. Mikey may not even have noticed her unless something makes their paths cross, and even then, she isn't his type of girl.

I really LOVE your asks sooo much. Thank you for yapping with me about monsters. Feel free to yap in my inbox anytime any day.