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asahicore · 2 years ago

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we’ll always have this summer - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader synopsis. Your mom ruins your summer plans by sending you to the equestrian center your grandmother owns in the south of France, wanting you to spend some time away from the city and take a break from your med studies. Although you’d been determined to spend the worst time ever there, you soon find out that maybe the cold but cute horse nerd next door who doesn’t want to talk to you might actually turn this summer into the best one of your life. genre. summer au, strangers to mutual dislike to friends to lovers ig, city girl x country boy type beat, mainly fluff and smut but also angst cause i love pain word count. 25.9k a/n. hi sisters i'm super excited to repost this, it was really fun rereading and editing it, and i hope that all of you who had enjoyed reading it last summer will still like it this time around and that those of you who hadn't read it will enjoy it now <3 i had also posted an sfw version, so if anyone would like that too, pls lmk! ok thats it let me know what u think love you bye

Sunghoon was going to have a very normal, uneventful summer. He would take a very much needed break from his studies and take care of the equestrian center he lives in, letting his parents take a breather and enjoy their summer. He’d wake up early and do everything he needed to, then spend the afternoon on horseback or sleeping in a random field. It’d be a routine his body is used to and likes, and he’d be able to let his worries go for a while. But then, you came along.

You, who’d had big plans for the summer. You, who should’ve been going on a two-week vacation with your friends to Mallorca as a treat for having aced your second-year medical school final exams and as a celebration for getting an internship in the hospital of your choice. You, who would’ve done nothing for those two weeks but sunbathe, read trashy romance novels, and get margarita-drunk at 2pm, and would’ve spent the rest of the summer hanging out with your friends in Paris, your home, and taking day trips to random French cities. This summer would be your last fun, carefree summer before you were thrown into real semi-adult life, and you were going to make the best of it. That’s what you had planned; to your utmost despair, your mom seemed to have other ideas in mind.

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times now, sweetie. You’re going. It’ll be good for you.”

“You know what will be good for me?” you say, close on her tail as you descend the stairs. “Relaxing and having fun with my friends for two weeks. Not cleaning horse manure and having to walk ten kilometers to get service.”

“It’ll be one or two kilometers at most, dear, not ten.”

“Ugh!” you groan ostentatiously. Your mother only shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. You glare back at her.

“It’ll be good for you,” she repeats, turning back to whatever was occupying her in the kitchen before you started arguing with her as you plop down on one of the stools at the center island. “You’ve seen neither your grandmother nor the countryside in ages, so it’ll be a nice change. What’s more, they say the best doctors are the ones who’ve done different jobs, you know.”

“Who’s ever said that…” you mutter under your breath, a clear look of distaste on your face. “But anyway, I see Mamie every Christmas at Auntie’s in Perpignan, and even if I didn’t, whose fault is it I never go to the countryside? You never bring me there.”

Your mother lifts her head and looks at you. “I’m too busy to make the journey all the way there. You’ve seen it, there’s two trains and two buses, I can’t do all that. Which is why we settle for Marseille. Direct train, easy. You, on the other hand,” she says, pointing to you with her wooden spoon, “will have plenty of time this summer.”

“Yeah, time I could’ve spent on a beach in Spain or with my friends here!” You know you’re being annoying, but you can’t help it. You really want to go to Mallorca.

She sighs. “I just need you to trust me on this one, honey. You’ll have tons of other summers to do all that. Your grandmother is getting old, so I want you to have at least some memories with her before… you know. I know it’s our fault you didn’t see her more often, so this is our way of making up for it!”

Your father walks in the kitchen, materializing out of nowhere as he often does. “Your mother’s right, you know.” They both peer down at you, and you know then you really don’t get a say in this. “I had an amazing bond with my grandfather, and I want for you to have something similar with your grandmother. She’s the only grandparent you’ve got left, and I promise you, you don’t want to let that go to waste.” You still don’t look fully convinced, so he adds, “Plus, you already get along well, right? You always talk lots when you see each other at Christmas.”

Your father does have a point. You know the problem isn’t being with your grandmother, anyway. Truth be told, you were quite looking forward to spending more time with her. She had a great sense of fashion, and you were sure she had many stories to tell you. It was the fact that you had to spend your summer in a godforsaken town of Southern France where the nearest town was seven kilometers away and the nearest city almost a forty-minute drive. Where you lived in Paris, you had everything you needed in a five-minute walk radius, and you just needed to hop on the Metro or the train to go anywhere else. And it was an equestrian center, of all places. You didn’t even like horses.

“Also,” your mother starts, dragging out the vowel, “the family that lives in the house next door has a boy your age. I heard he’s cute.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you groan at her, which just makes your parents laugh more. You don’t want to stereotype, but you highly doubt a boy who lives in an equestrian center in the middle of God-knows-where is anywhere as handsome as the boys you see everywhere in the capital city. Hot people live in cities; to you, that’s always been a fact.

And as if a stupid boy could make this any better anyway.

Your mother wasn’t lying when she said the journey was long. You took the Metro from your apartment to the train station, then a rapid train to Perpignan, a regional train to Argelès, and a bus to the town of Laroque-des-Albères. And that wasn’t even it - there could’ve been a second bus, but your grandmother had arranged for the neighbors’ son to come and pick you up and drive you to the small commune named La Pierrerie where the equestrian center was.

To your dismay, there was another thing your mother had been right about; the neighbors’ son being cute. When you get off the bus, you look around the almost empty parking spot with no idea of who you’re supposed to look for. But he must see your lost expression and all your luggage and assume you’re the one he had come to pick up, so he calls out your name. Your head snaps towards the direction of the voice, and the moment your eyes settle on him, you have to hold yourself from gaping at him like a dead fish. For someone who supposedly spends his weekends and vacations outside, taking care of horses, cleaning stalls and doing handiwork, his features are… delicate. The perfect blend of sharp and soft - a round face contrasted by a knifelike jaw, plump lips, his eyebrows forming a straight line over his almond-shaped eyes. But you find roughness on his face is in the crease of his eyebrows as he peers down at you. You haven’t done anything yet, but he already clearly disapproves of you.

There’s a scowl on his face - he may be pretty, but he’s definitely not welcoming. You walk towards him, dragging your luggage behind you, and he doesn’t move to help you until you reach the car, and finally he opens the trunk and hauls one of your suitcase in.

“Thank you,” you breathe, looking up at him, “um?”

A beat passes as your eyes lock, and he looks so bored you think he might not even bother to give you his name, but thank God he does. “Sunghoon.”

You decide not to let his rudeness get to you and put on a bright smile, but by the time you’re done saying “nice to meet you,” he’s already gotten in the driver’s seat. He starts the car without another word, and your efforts at any sort of conversation are so fruitless that you give up after two minutes of asking questions that are only met with two-word sentences. You can only hope that his family isn’t as unfriendly as he is, otherwise you’d be in for one hell of a summer.

When you arrive in La Pierrerie, it’s almost nine p.m., and you’re exhausted from your long journey and from carrying around such heavy suitcases. Still in complete silence, Sunghoon takes two of your bags and heads towards what you can only assume is your grandmother’s house. You go to follow him, but you soon notice your grandmother and another woman, who you guess is Sunghoon’s mother, sitting at a table, sipping on some lemonade. As soon as they see you arrive, they rush towards you (well, the woman does - your grandmother walks as fast as she can), helping you with the rest of your baggage. They kiss you on both cheeks as a greeting, starting from the right but you’re used to starting from the left, which almost makes your lips bump into each other. Thankfully, they laugh it off, and you make sure to remember the local custom to avoid future potentially awkward encounters.

The woman introduces herself as Mrs Park and tells you she lived next-door to your grandmother, just like you’d guessed. She says that she’s happy to meet you and hopes that you had a nice trip and that you weren’t too tired for the meal she and your grandmother had prepared for tonight. You like her instantly - her kind eyes and warm smile make you feel at home right away.

Your grandmother hugs you too, and you had to admit it felt nice seeing her after such a long time. Such a sweet welcome revives you a bit, and a nagging voice in your head tells you, see, this isn’t that bad, this summer might be good after all, but you quickly shut it down. Your stubborn nature wants you to hate this for at least a little bit, especially after the excruciating car ride you just had to sit through. You won’t show it to your hosts, obviously, because you want to be respectful, but you can at least scowl and curse your parents when nobody’s looking.

There’s no time for awkward silence and looking back and forth between the two women because as soon as the greetings are over, Mrs Park announces she’ll go heat up the food and get the last things ready while your grandmother shows you around her home, which would be yours for the next two months and a half, and lets you unpack for a bit.

Your grandmother’s house is on two floors. The ground floor is basically one big room, which the front door leads directly into. There’s the kitchen, the dining room and the living room. It’s all very open and bright, and you can tell it must be very warm when the sunlight poured directly through the large windows into the room at the right time of day. It’s simply decorated, with furniture that probably hasn’t been updated in a while but that is well maintained and looks cozy enough. Black-and-whites and photographs of fuzzy quality are hung on the wall of the dining room and you’re eager to take a closer look at them later on.

Upstairs are two bedrooms and the bathroom, as well as a mezzanine that’s a few steps lower than the rest of the floor and that looks over the living room. This is where your grandmother keeps her books and her trophies from her past very successful horse riding career. There are a couple armchairs in the corner and a window to bring more light in, and you’re sure this would make an amazing reading nook for late evenings or stormy afternoons.

Your room is not much more than a double bed, a chest of drawers, a cupboard to hang your clothes in and a few empty shelves. Your grandmother had told you you were welcome to bring any kind of decoration you wanted to make this room yours for the summer, so you’d taken with you a few posters and framed pictures as well as some babbles you liked looking at. She’d picked out some daisies from her garden and made a bouquet out of them, livening up the vase on your bedside table.

She sits on your bed as you put your clothes away (which you had brought so many of, you weren’t sure there’d be enough room to put them all in) and tells you how she’d come to live here with the Parks. This is something you like about her - she has many stories to tell, each more fascinating than the other, and she’s always willing to tell them.

Your grandmother had actually grown up not too far from here, on the other side of town. Her parents had signed her up for lessons every Wednesday afternoon for a few years, until her instructor recognised her potential and told her she could ride professionally if she wanted. So, she started having two-hour lessons four times a week. When she started winning local, then regional, then national championships, she moved to Perpignan to be taught by more qualified instructors in a more renowned riding club.

Years forward, she got pregnant and her career as a rider was over. When her kids were old enough, she got a job as an instructor and even managed a few athletes of the club in Perpignan, but she continued to visit her old club in Laroque once in a while, as she always did throughout her career. She’d seen it wear down and lose customers over the years to the point that at the end of the nineties, it was under threat of closing down. Her old teacher had long passed and her son and his wife had taken over. This son, who was a bit older than your grandmother, had worked there his whole life, but it wasn’t what he wanted to do - as the only son, he’d had no choice but to stay and take care of the club. However, he hadn’t wanted it to close that way, and he was still desperate to keep the club alive, especially because his own son truly loved it and wanted to take over and manage it once he was done with high school.

Your grandmother, with more money than she needed from her successful career and the inheritance she got from her husband’s passing, offered to buy the club from the Parks and manage its finances while they took care of the horses and of lessons. Her only condition was that she could move in in the other house on the property that wasn’t inhabited and needed a few renovations. They agreed immediately.

Mr Park graduated from high school in 1998, got married to the now Mrs Park in 2000, and they had their first child, Sunghoon, in 2002 - the same year as you. His parents moved out to the city and got new jobs that they liked a lot more while the club, thanks to your grandmother’s donations and Mr and Mrs Park’s hard work, prospered once again. It did help that an Olympic rider sometimes helped out with lessons and gave out advice for aspiring athletes.

And now, here you are, twenty years later, visiting her for the first time since you were probably six. You don’t have many memories from those few times you’d been here, so it was all new to you. Especially that Sunghoon boy, whom your grandmother was sure you would get along with based on how chummy you were back in 2008. When you were both six. You didn’t have the heart to tell her how he had been with you in the car.

“Sunghoon’s a bit shy, but once you get to know him, he’s a really good kid. Very passionate and hardworking. So is his sister Yeji, but she’s got different ambitions,” your grandmother muses.

“Oh yeah? What does she want to do?” you ask, genuinely interested, as you try to somehow fit another t-shirt into one of the drawers. You’d started out by folding them nicely but you’d soon given up and started stashing them into the corners.

“She wants to become a professional rider. Says she wants to become like me,” she explains with a small chuckle. “Well, she’s definitely got what it takes. I got her a spot in that bigger club in Perpignan I told you about, so she goes there after school twice a week, but she still trains here with me every weekend.”

“You give her lessons?” you ask, some surprise in your voice, which makes your grandmother laugh.

“What, you think I’m too old?” she jokes and you shake your head rapidly, but she doesn’t take any offense to it. “I can’t stand for hours and shout like I used to, but I can sit in the center of the riding hall and watch, then tell her what she needs to work on and what she’s doing well. She says it helps her, so I’m happy to do it,” she adds with a shrug. You nod as you open another drawer and decide this one will be for your underwear.

“What about Sunghoon?” You can’t help but ask, a bit curious about him. You doubted you could really chalk up his impoliteness to shyness, but you could still listen to what your grandmother had to say about him.

“He’s more like his dad, wants to take after the club. But he’s a very decent rider, too. If his sister hadn’t said she wanted to go pro so early on, I’m sure he would’ve. You know one thing that’s great about getting old?” she asks suddenly.

“No?”

“You observe people a lot more, and you understand them a lot more too. Well, now that I think about it, it might be just me,” she says, making you chuckle. “I don’t have a lot going on in my life, so I have more time to be nosy and see what others are up to. He’d never admit it, I don’t think, that he gave up on a potential riding career for his sister. He’s the type to make quiet sacrifices, and he loves his sister to death. He’d rather take over the club and watch her be happy than the opposite.”

You nod, an approving expression on your face. “Sounds like a good guy,” you say honestly, surprised that someone supposedly so kind could also be so rude.

“He is. Handsome, as well, by the way, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she adds, a knowing smile playing on her lips, but you just roll your eyes playfully.

“That’s what mom said,” you reply, not wanting to admit that they are both right on the matter of Sunghoon’s handsomeness.

Sunghoon’s the one who opens the door when you and your grandmother knock. His expression when he sees you is the same as earlier, but you don’t have the time to ponder over his behavior, because quickly enough, two figures appear behind him. He steps to the side, letting enough space for you to come in, his harsh gaze never once leaving your face. You turn your attention to the figures, namely his father and a young girl who you guess is Yeji, and, thank God, they’re looking at you with wide smiles.

“You must be Y/N!” his father beams, and you nod, returning his smile and saying hi. He kisses you on both cheeks, and this time you remember to start from the right. “Welcome. We’re very happy to have you here, aren’t we, Sunghoon?”

He seems oblivious to his son’s clear distaste of you as he loops an arm over his shoulders, happily shaking one of them under his grasp. “Right,” Sunghoon says, voice monotone. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply with a slightly confused tone - what the hell was his deal? Usually, whatever energy someone gave you, you’d give it back to them. You’d have no problem being as rude to Sunghoon as he was to you if only his family didn’t seem so nice.

“I’ll go help Mom in the kitchen,” he announces and walks away. His father turns back to you and gives you an apologetic smile.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just shy. He’ll warm up to you eventually.” You nod, saying it’s okay.

Yeji then takes a step towards you, introducing herself as she goes in for the usual two kisses on the cheeks. “Hi, I’m Yeji!”

“Hi, so nice to meet you!”

“Me too, I’m really happy you’re here! It’ll be nice being with another girl,” she says, gesturing towards her oblivious brother with a tilt of her head. It takes a lot more effort to be nice than to be rude, you think, side-eyeing Sunghoon in your head.

“Are there not a lot of girls that come here for lessons?” you ask as she leads you inside the house, showing you where to take off your shoes and jumper.

“There are, but they only come here once a week and stay for a few hours, so it’s not the same. I’m stuck with my anthropoid of a brother most of the time,” she says, lowering her voice to make sure only you can hear what she says. You both laugh at her diss; nothing like bonding over hating boys with another girl. You can already tell you’re going to like her.

You ask if there’s anything you can do to help, but the Parks tell you to not worry about anything and sit down. You and Yeji join your grandmother who’s already sitting at the dinner table, and the three of you chat, or rather, you and Yeji chat while your grandmother listens. Or maybe she isn’t listening, you’re not sure.

Yeji is in her first year of high school. The prestigious riding club she is being taught at doubles as a school, so that’s where she’s been studying for the past few years, and she boards there as well, coming home every weekend unless she’s got important competitions coming up, in which case she stays there for a few weeks. Competition season is about to start, so she’ll be spending most of her time there this summer.

“And do you like it there?”

She looks slightly taken aback by your question, as if she’s not quite used to being asked about that. “I mean, yeah, yeah, I do. It’s nice being able to ride so often, and not having the stress of needing to figure out what I want to do next. But it is… you know,” her voice gets quieter, “a lot of pressure sometimes.”

Sunghoon walks in then, plates and cutlery in hand, and starts setting the table. Yeji’s face lights up at her brother’s arrival, using it to change the topic. “Sunghoon is studying to become a vet. He’s finished his two years of preparatory classes, so now he’s going to a vet school in Toulouse.”

He glares at his sister, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. “He graduated top of his class, you know.”

“Why are you telling her about me?” he interrupts.

Yeji just shrugs. “I’m telling her about us.”

“Well,” he says, putting down a plate in front of you and a fork and knife on each side of the plate, “she doesn’t need to know about me.” You can’t see his face but the cold tone of his voice and his presence right behind you are enough to send shivers down your spine. What the hell is his deal?, you wonder.

You look at Yeji, a confused look on your face, and she rolls her eyes as a dismissal of her older brother’s behavior. “Don’t ask me, cause I don’t know what his problem is, either,” she says, and you can’t help but chuckle.

Mrs and Mr Park walk in then, bringing in the main dish of duck confit as well as roast potatoes, vegetables and some bread. Mrs Park gives you the biggest chunk of meat and a load of sides, saying you must be famished after such a long trip even though you tell her you’d brought things to snack on. She says she’d hesitated between cooking Korean food or a typical French Southwestern dish but had opted for the latter, wanting to welcome you properly in the region. You thanked her and told her it looked amazing.

When everyone is served, you wish each other ‘bon appétit’ and start eating. You’re chewing on your first mouthful of duck and potatoes when Mrs Park asks you what you study. “Your grandmother said you were a med student?” she asks with a smile. Everyone looks at you except for Sunghoon, who only has eyes for his food.

You nod, waiting to swallow before answering, and Mr Park tuts his wife for not letting you eat. “I am. I passed my second year,” you say, earning yourself some congratulations, “and I’m starting my residency in a hospital in Paris next semester.”

“Do you know what part of the hospital you’ll be in?” Mr Park asks.

“We get to do turns, so we can see what we like. We give our school our top five choices, and then they put us in three departments for three months each, and then choose our favorite one based on the offers we get for the summer. I’m in the children’s ward first, then cardiology, then reeducation. We’ll also get to watch over surgeries.”

He nods, humming at your words. “And is that what you want to do later? I mean, work in one of those departments?”

“I’ve got time to change my mind, so I guess it depends how much I like being at the hospital, but I think I’d rather have my own cabinet after some time. I feel like overtime, you build more of a relationship with people, and it’s a lot less stressful, too,” you add with a chuckle.

Mr Park smiles and nods again. “Ah, I see. That’s nice. And would that be in Paris?,” he asks, and this time, it’s his wife that tells him to leave you alone, but you say it’s okay.

“Probably. It’s the city I know best, but nothing is set in stone.”

“You should come here!” Mrs Park perks. “Most people who live here are quite old - no offense, Nadine - ” (“None taken,” your grandmother says with a smile), but we’ve only got two doctors, and one is probably retiring in the next six to ten years.”

“You tell me to leave her alone, and then you tell her to move here,” Mr Park mutters, earning himself a small slap on the arm. They start bickering, and your grandmother just sighs and shakes her head.

“Young love,” she says, making everyone laugh. Even Sunghoon cracks a smile, and you get a glimpse of his dimples. As soon as he catches your gaze, his smile drops, and you turn your eyes away, your cheeks heating up. Yeji starts a new topic and soon enough you’re all chatting again. If it wasn’t for Sunghoon making it very clear he didn’t want you here, you’d already feel at home, just sitting at this dinner table.

When dinner is over, you insist on clearing the table and doing the dishes, saying you felt bad not doing anything. “I need to earn my keep,” you tell Mrs Park with a smile.

She laughs and says, “Oh, no need to worry about that, with Sunghoon showing you the ropes the next few days, you definitely will.”

Sunghoon perks up at the mention of his name. “What’s this about?” he asks, that crease still in his eyebrows. You find yourself wanting to stroke them with your thumbs and brush that frown away, but you quickly snap out of it. He may have a pretty face, but from what you’ve seen, that’s about all there is.

Mrs Park lets out a small puff of air through her nose. “We’ve talked about this, dear. You’re showing Y/N around the club tomorrow and Monday. It’s so you know how everything works before summer lessons start,” she explains, turning towards you.

“Why does it have to be me, though?” Sunghoon almost whines, and you want to scoff at him.

“Because your father and I said so,” his mother says, ending the conversation there, and you’re reminded of your own parents.

Sunghoon looks at you and frowns, so you raise your eyebrows back at him. It wasn’t your fault you were here or that his parents had designated him to show you around, so there was no reason you should make yourself small or apologetic for him. He scoffs and looks away. “Just be outside by eight a.m. tomorrow morning, okay?”

He doesn’t let you answer, just gives you one last hard look and walks away.

“Why are you wearing a dress?” Sunghoon asks as soon as you step outside the next morning.

“Good morning to you too, Sunghoon,” you reply sarcastically. You roll your eyes when he doesn’t say anything, just stands there, arms crossed over his chest, so you add, “Because it’s going to be hot today. And because it’s pretty.”

“This is an equestrian center, not a fashion show. You won’t be comfortable. Go put on a t-shirt and some shorts or some leggings. And wear sneakers, not sandals, Christ.”

You scoff and mirror his posture. “You don’t get to tell me what to wear, you know.”

He lets out a dry chuckle and rolls his eyes, a disbelieving smile on his face. “This might be a holiday for you, because it’s sunny and there’s nature everywhere, but this is work we’re gonna be doing. So, for your own sake, wear the right kind of clothes. But if you want to get horse saliva on your dress or step in horse shit wearing those shoes, be my guest.”

You glare at him for a few seconds, realizing that he’s right, and huff out an annoyed “fine,” stomping back into your grandmother’s house. “Be quick!” he calls after you.

You come back out five minutes later, wearing a tank top you usually use for sleeping, a pair of denim shorts and old sneakers your mother had told you to pack. “Took you long enough,” Sunghoon says, a true ray of sunshine, but you decide it’s better to ignore him. He barely talked to you yesterday, but now that it’s just the two of you and he has to, his words are somehow more annoying than his silence.

You stare at him unfazed and ask, “So, what’s first?”

He raises his eyebrows, seemingly surprised, but answers anyway. “Right. Follow me.” He heads towards a part of the farm that is attached to the riding hall and that your grandmother had pointed out yesterday evening as the reception and office area.

Sunghoon fishes a keyholder out of his jean pocket and slides open the door using one of the many keys he has. He goes to stand in front of a postboard and points to it. “This has the daily and weekly schedule on it. It’s a routine, so things don’t change much, but when they do, we add a post-it to the board. For example, the blacksmith is coming next Thursday to check horseshoes. That’s a post-it. Today, we’re cleaning out all the stalls and adding fresh straw. We do that every Monday, so it’s on the schedule. No post-it.”

“Right. That makes sense,” you nod. “Is that all we do today?”

“We do rounds first, but basically, yeah, because cleaning takes a long time. And Monday is technically our day off. No one comes in for lessons so we use that free time to clean out the stalls.”

You nod and Sunghoon chuckles at you, but you don’t have time to question him about it because he’s already off and you have no choice but to follow him. He leads you to a part of the farm on the other side of the courtyard and pulls out another key, pushing the door open to a wide three-and-a-half-wall room with rings attached to the walls every few meters. Three and a half because behind that space on each side are stalls, as Sunghoon points out.

“This is the prep room, where we get the horses ready before a lesson.”

“What do you do to get them ready?” you ask, looking around the room.

“You clean their coat and their hooves, brush out any tangles in their manes and tails, then saddle and bridle them. The club saddlery is over there,” he says, pointing to a door on your right. “Horse owners have their own stuff in lockers in another room.”

Apparently, you’re not checking out the saddlery today, because Sunghoon is already walking over to the stalls.

“Hi everyone,” he greets softly. You follow him closely as he walks on one side of the stables, petting each horse as he walks past them or peering over the door to see how the sleeping ones are doing, and then does the same thing on the other side. He greets each horse by name, and even though it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he remembers each and every one of them, it still does. You tell him exactly that, and he chuckles.

“What would you think of a teacher that doesn’t know their students’ names? This is kind of the same,” he explains. He shows you the stacks of hay and straw at the end of the stables, and explains that they bring it here from the fields every once in a while because it’s more convenient, and that this is what you’ll be using later.

When he’s checked that everything is okay, he opens the door on the other side of the room leading outside. On your right stands a huge pile of manure, and you can’t help but make a stank face at the odor hitting you right in the nostrils. Sunghoon chuckles again (can he please stop chuckling at you for no reason?) and reassures you by saying they’re emptying it soon. “The farmers use it for their crops,” he explains.

On your left, there’s another barn that you guess hosts more horses. He gets out yet another key and pushes the door wide open. Light fills the barn instantly, making the dust particles in the air visible, and you hear a few grunts and huffs from the horses - of annoyance at Sunghoon waking them up or of happiness at seeing him, you’re not yet qualified enough to say.

There are two other smaller, one-sided stables next to the riding hall where he takes you and does his rounds again. When he’s all done, you follow him to the riding hall where he opens two doors on each side, that way you can walk through it to get to the pastures in the back rather than walk around the whole center, and takes down the electric cables that serve as an entrance to the pastures. He doesn’t explain any of this, however, so you sort of have to guess. Wordlessly, you head back to the last stables you were in and there, he throws a bunch of what you think are harnesses at you.

“What are these?” you ask dumbly, looking at the thing in your hand.

“They’re halters,” he says, and when you just stare wordlessly, he adds, talking as if it were obvious, “you put them around the horse’s head so you can take them places?”

“Right. Can you show me how to put one on?”

He sighs but obliges; he doesn’t have much of a choice anyway. Not your fault that he’s lived here all his life whereas you’ve encountered a horse maybe three times in your twenty years of life.

He demonstrates how to put a halter on and watches over you as you practice it on an old and tired-looking white horse. When you manage to do it somehow quickly, he says, “there you go,” and you’re surprised to not hear any sarcasm in his voice. However, when he pats the horse’s forehead, you have a feeling the praise was more directed towards her than you.

You walk side-by-side to the pastures, you with the white horse, whose garrot reaches your shoulder, and Sunghoon leading a small pony in each hand. They have to walk quickly to keep up with his strides and you can’t help but laugh at their cute swaying hips.

“How old is she?” you ask Sunghoon, head tilting towards the horse you’re walking with.

A soft smile cracks on Sunghoon’s lips, perhaps the first smile you’ve seen on him today. “That’s Nellie,” he answers quietly, looking at the horse in question. “She’s turning 20 this December. We were only born a few days apart.”

“Wow, so you grew up together, that’s pretty cool,” you say honestly, and Sunghoon’s eyes settle on you for a few seconds, eyebrows raising a bit as if surprised by your words.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, looking back in front of him. “My parents taught me how to horse ride with her. And she’s the only horse that belongs to the club whose papers actually state that I’m her owner. All the others have my parents’ name or the club’s on theirs.”

“Ah, so she’s your horse,” you say, looking at Nellie and smiling. You’d have imagined a much taller, handsome and dark-haired horse for him, but this somehow matches as well. It makes Sunghoon appear sweeter, for some reason.

“Yeah,” he says simply, but you don’t miss the small smile on his lips. So maybe there is a way to get to know Park Sunghoon, you think.

Once in the pastures, he shows you how to release a horse safely in case they get excited about being outside and hurt you accidentally or run away. Thankfully, these horses know better than to do that sort of stuff, so it’s very unlikely that anything will happen, he explains, but you’re always better safe than sorry. You head back to the stables in a silence a bit less awkward than before and do the same things with the three other horses in those stables. Not much is said, but you don’t want to force the conversation. He just explains to you that these few horses work well together in the pastures, but that it’s not always this easy.

“Horses have a herd instinct, so they need to be with each other, but also not with anyone. You know how wolf packs have alphas and betas and stuff?” he asks, and you nod. Your friends and you had an obsessive Teen Wolf phase when you were in middle school. “Well, horses kind of have that too, because there’s a hierarchy in their herds. So there’s usually one leader, a mare, and some others that just get along.”

“How do you know which horses get along, though?”

“You just have to observe. You can tell pretty quickly which horses are going to have a leader or a follower type personality. Just put two leaders together, and they’ll clash instantly. It can get pretty bad pretty quick, so the first few times you put certain horses together outside, you really have to watch over them and be careful.”

“That’s so interesting,” you say after a few moments. “I never knew horses to have such complex relationships,” you say, and he smiles.

“Horses are really cool,” he says, and immediately grunts. “That was such a loser thing to say.”

You can’t help but laugh at his self-realization, but quickly reassure him. “No, it’s not. It’s something you’re passionate about, of course you’re gonna find them cool,” you say, and the smile he gives you as an answer shouldn’t make your heart beat that much faster, but it does, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You’re just glad he’s being nice to you - bare minimum, but still, a small victory.

“Time for the hard part, now,” he says when all five horses are happy in the pasture. You follow him to a toolshed where they keep tools, of course, but also two empty wheelbarrows and snacks for the horses like grains, carrots and salt blocks. He tells you to grab a shovel as he rolls out a wheelbarrow and you head back to the stalls together.

There’s nothing complex about shoveling dirty hay and horse shit into a wheelbarrow, but by God is it a draining task. The shovel itself is heavy, so having to pick all that stuff up, heave it back into the cart, and then repeat for who knows how many times is a real burden on your poor back and arms. You definitely let Sunghoon know how hard this is for you, what with all the sighs and loud breaths and grunts you’re letting out. You’ve barely finished cleaning one stall out when Sunghoon is starting his third, and you can tell he’s not happy about it.

“If you complained less, you’d work faster, you know,” he says, that scowl back on his face.

“I can’t help that I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” you chide back, out-of-breath and wiping some sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah? All the hard tasks usually done for you, princess?”

His scowl turns into a small smirk as he looks at you, and you curse your heart for doing a flip when he chuckles at your dumbfoundedness. It’s just a stupid nickname, you tell yourself, no need to get so worked up over it.

“I’ve never had any hard tasks like this in the first place,” you say, moving on to the second stall. “My body isn’t made for it.”

“Well, it’ll have to get used to it.” Yesterday, his mother had also told you you’d get used to it, as a way of reassuring you; but Sunghoon’s words are a far cry from his mother’s, and are more of a threat than anything.

Another few minutes and you’re done, Sunghoon watching you as you finish cleaning your designated stall. You dump everything at the manure pile, then head to the straw pile and fill the wheelbarrow to replace the dirty straw with fresh one in the stalls. And then, you only have to do that four more times. Easy enough, right?

No. Not easy.

The only semi-easy part is taking the horses out of their stalls and tying the rope that are attached to their halter to a ring in the prep room, except some horses are less compliant than others and you end up having to call Sunghoon a couple times so he can take care of them for you.

The whole time you’re heaving manure into the wheelbarrow, you’re complaining. At first, it was the stank that had really gotten to you - as one can imagine, hay infused with horse piss and shit doesn’t smell like fresh linen. But somehow, you got used to it - maybe the physical exertion forced you to forget about the smell and focus on the pain taking over your whole body.

You huff and puff as you feel the heavy weight of the shovel in your arms and shoulders every time you need to lift it up and bring it back down. The pain in your upper back from years of carrying your backpack on one shoulder makes itself known, and after half an hour you’re whining that you can feel muscle scores coming in your whole body.

“They’ll probably stay for a whole week too,” you mumble to yourself, but still loud enough for Sunghoon to hear.

“You’ll get used to it, I told you. In a few weeks this will feel like nothing.” When you only grunt in response, he adds: “I usually do this on my own, you know. You’re lucky you’re only doing half of the work. Or more like one fourth, with the speed you’re going at.”

“Why don’t your parents or sister help you out?” you ask as you lean against the stall wall, using the distraction of a conversation to take a break.

“My parents already work all week when I’m not there, giving lessons and taking care of the club, so it’s the least I can do to help out on weekends and during my breaks. And my sister already works hard enough at her school so I want her to relax when she’s here,” he replies, never stopping his shoveling.

“But you work hard too, don’t you? I mean, your sister said you were top of your class. You should get a break too.”

His movements halt for a split second only. If your words have any sort of impact on Sunghoon, he doesn’t want to let you know.

“I just study hunched over my desk all week. It’s nice to do something physical, and I don’t mind the time alone.” You’re not sure whether this is an excuse he’s come up with for himself or if he’s telling the truth, but his tone is so final and you understand that he’s done with the conversation, so you pick up your shovel and get back to work. You don’t complain for the rest of the morning.

When you’re finally done with the stalls, you bring back the horses you had walked to the pastures so that others can enjoy the free space and green grass. That’s when you run into an obstacle.

No matter how much you pull, coax, or stare impatiently, this horse won’t budge. Sunghoon rests his back and one foot against the plastic half-wall of the riding hall, chuckling at how awfully you and Dona are getting on. He’s already brought back the other five horses to their stalls and has nothing better to do than be useless, apparently.

After a few minutes of you trying to negotiate with Dona, to no avail, Sunghoon finally speaks up, just loud enough for you to hear. “Stop staring at her. Horses get nervous when you stare too much.”

You scoff. “But she won’t move! I’m trying to show her the desperation in my eyes!” you shout back, and turn to the horse who only peers at you with empty black eyes.

“Don’t shout. Horses don’t like it when you shout,” Sunghoon simply answers, propping himself off of the wall and taking his sweet time walking towards you. When he reaches you and Dona, he takes the tether from your hands and says, “C’mon, Dona,” without even looking at the horse, who immediately follows, no questions asked.

You stand there dumbfounded and mouth O-shaped as you watch the two of them stride away calmly, running after Sunghoon when your shock dissipates. “Don’t run,” he says when he hears your quickly approaching footsteps, “horses don’t like it when you run.”

“My God,” you say, already out of breath, “how many things do horses not like?”

“Quite a few,” he answers matter-of-factly, although you meant your question more rhetorically than anything.

“How did you do that, anyways?” you ask when your breathing returns to normal.

“Well, mainly, it’s just because she knows me and knows to listen to me,” he explains, turning his head just a bit to look at you as you walk back to the main stables, the sun making itself shy behind the tall trees even though it’s nearing midday. A warm breeze blows, sweeping your ponytail to the side and rustling the leaves on the trees. “But also, horses need to be told what to do, not asked. Your attitude needs to be, ‘we’re going back now,’ not, ‘hey, wanna go back?’” You nod slowly at first, then faster when the words start making sense in your head. Sunghoon wants to make fun of you but finds it sweet that you’re at least trying to understand.

“Right,” you say after a few moments. “It’s not very nice, though,” you add, causing Sunghoon to tilt his head and frown his brows, silently asking you to go on. “Well, I’m sure Dona would like a say in the matter.”

He once again contains his laughter because you look so serious and he doesn’t want to make you feel bad, but ultimately fails and snorts at your comment, making you look up at him, bewilderment written all over your face. “What? I’m being serious!”

“I know you are,” he chuckles, “but don’t worry, Dona doesn’t mind having to go home. And if it was up to her, she’d stay out all night.”

Sunghoon tells you some anecdotes about the club and its occupiers on your way back, making you giggle at some of the mischievous things the horses have gotten up to. He’s more talkative than this morning which takes you slightly aback, but you’re not going to complain about the change. You were dreading having to spend your summer annoyed at a cute boy you’d have to see every day, so you’re glad his first impression is drastically different from what he’s actually like.

You and Sunghoon part ways a bit before noon, and you plop down on the couch as soon as you get to your grandmother’s house. “Tough morning, huh?,” she calls from the kitchen. You only have enough energy left to hum a small “yes” back. She chuckles at you, then tells you to take a shower before having lunch. You spend the rest of your day sunbathing on a deckchair in the backyard, taking some time to relax before what you’re sure will be a tiring week.

One thing you learn during that week and the weeks after that is that Sunghoon has his fair share of fangirls. As a female-dominated hobby, most of the club members are teenage girls who love horses and cute boys.

Tuesday morning before lessons start, he shows you basic things like how to properly groom a horse and how to put their saddles and bridles (which is actually a lot harder than it looks - putting your thumb in a horse’s mouth seems a bit counterintuitive), just in case you ever need to get a horse ready for whatever reason. You’re going to be here for two months, so might as well learn things like these.

While you help him walk some horses to the pastures, he explains that summer lessons are different in that instead of learners coming once or twice a week, they come all day from Tuesday to Friday and then pass an exam on Saturday morning if they want to. Since both his mother and father teach, they’re able to have two separate groups, one for riders who come for more laidback lessons with games and walks in the fields nearby, and one for those who want to improve their skills in an intense week of both practical and theoretical lessons.

There isn’t much you can do on your own, so after you’ve gone around the stables giving grains to the horses that need them, you join Sunghoon outside in the courtyard as he cleans and greases some saddles and bridles that are starting to wear out. It’s fairly easy to do and he lets you help out, so you sit outside together in silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. That is, until you start noticing the girls.

You don’t want to pay them any attention, but what with the way they wave shyly at Sunghoon and giggle when he waves back, a smile you can’t describe as anything but dazzling adorning his lips, it’s impossible not to. Some of them even call out his name, saying “hi” in the sweetest way they can. You don’t blame them: had you been fifteen and seen a boy as pretty as Sunghoon, you probably would’ve acted similarly, especially if you got to see him on a regular basis.

What gets on your nerves, however, is how much Sunghoon enjoys it: you can tell by the smirk that won’t leave his face the whole time or the way he makes them all swoon by remembering their names. Bare minimum, you think to yourself once again, but you don’t say anything. Even if slightly infuriating, it’s also entertaining, seeing Sunghoon enjoy himself this way. You would’ve thought he was the type to want to be by himself at all times, unbothered by anyone, yet here he was, blushing at all the attention he was receiving.

After a girl who had come up to him (sparing you a confused “hi” when she saw your unfamiliar face but quickly turning her attention back to Sunghoon), wanting to know how his year at school had gone, skips giddily away, you can’t help but tease him.

“I can’t believe you’re liking this so much,” you say with a smile, keeping your attention on greasing the leather parts of the bridle.

Sunghoon looks up at you, a semi-offended look on his face. “I’m just being nice.”

“I didn’t know ‘just being nice’ entailed letting yourself be showered in compliments and winking at fifteen year-old girls. Aren’t you turning twenty?”

“I’m not- I didn’t- Whatever,” he gives up, a pout on his face as he returns to work. You nudge his shoulder, making him crack a smile, and you feel like you won the Grand Prix of something.

Another thing you learn that week is that there’s a lot of going back and forth with Sunghoon. One minute he’s laughing at your jokes and acting like a normal human being, and the other he’s giving you the cold shoulder as if he suddenly doesn’t want you around anymore. Sometimes, these changes in his attitude are so quick, they give you whiplash.

You learn to not pay too much attention to these mood swings, not wanting to create any problems for yourself. He seems to be happy when you ask him about horses, so you often come up with the most random things you can think to ask, and he always patiently answers even the dumbest of questions. However, his patience is much quicker to run out when you complain about any task you’re given, so you settle on glaring at the back of his head.

Thankfully, you’re actually a lot less busy than you thought you would be. Your tasks consist mainly of cleaning the stalls, feeding the horses, and taking care of the ones who are too old or have some kind of illness and can’t be mounted. You bring them to the pastures, where they spend a lot of their time, then brush out the dirt and dust embedded in their fur after rolling around on the ground. These horses are often the most affectionate, gently nuzzling your hands when you try to clean their face and huffing happily when they see you arrive.

You do this a couple times a week and Sunghoon often joins you, bringing Nellie out and attaching the rope of her halter next to the horse you’re taking care of so he can groom her as well. These are the moments when he’s in his best mood and he lets you blabber away, talking about random things and concerns in your life as he listens and nods, sometimes sharing some of his as well, letting you take a peek into his closed-off world. You find that you have actually quite a lot in common, with you being in med school and him in vet school, which are both intense and high-pressure. Yet, there’s always something that’s quite surface-level about these conversations; students will always easily bond about the stress of deadlines and horrible professors. You want to dig deeper, but something tells you that Sunghoon will quickly shut you down, and you’re okay with waiting for a bit. You’re just glad he hasn’t been the way he was with you that first day the whole time and that he’s actually talking to you and even sending a smile your way once every now and then.

You also hang out with Yeji quite a lot. Even though she’s on her summer break, competition season means she spends four days a week at her boarding school to train and the other three days at the club, trying to enjoy her summer like any other normal high schooler as best as she can. She doesn’t say much more on how she feels about training so much, only slightly hinting at her level of stress and fatigue like she had done at the dinner table, and you can tell it’s a touchy subject, so you don’t pry.

It does take your body a few days to get used to being outside in the sun and walking around all day, so your first week at the club, you head home as soon as you’re done with your tasks and take a shower then help your grandmother with dinner, spending your evenings reading or playing Scrabble with her (she’s an impressive player, by the way, and has taught you many words). Every Sunday night, you have dinner with the Parks, although Mrs Park also sometimes urges you into her house at one p.m. with the promise of delicious food.

On your second Wednesday there, however, you feel like going out in the evening. After a really hot week, it had stormed during the night that made Tuesday turn into Wednesday which had made the air feel less heavy and more refreshing, so doing anything was a lot less energy-consuming than it had been before. It’s nine p.m. and the sun is low in the sky when you tell your grandmother you’re going to explore the property some more. You know there’s a path that goes behind the pastures to a forest and that is used for horse rides and walks, so you make your way there and follow it.

The mud is still a bit soft from all the rain of the night and morning and you can tell apart footsteps as well as hoof and dog paw prints. The trees on each side on the path are so full of leaves that they make a sort of arch overhead, barring any of the remaining sunlight from entering and casting a shadow all over, and you wish you’d have brought a thin jumper with you. It feels nice to be outside when the sun isn’t making you feel like your skin will melt right off of your body, though.

You’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes, stopping here and there to look at a flower or snap a shot of the clouds you can see through the trees when you reach a clearing. It’s completely empty, the trees making way for a vast patch of just grass and small daisies, so of course you see him immediately.

A couple hundred meters away from where you’re standing is Sunghoon on a tall, ginger horse, galloping in circles. You don’t know much about horse riding, but you can tell that he knows what he's doing from the way he holds himself and directs the horse. His back is straight and his legs are pressed against the horse’s flanks, his hips moving in perfect synchronization with the horse’s strides so that he stays seated on its back rather than bounces like you’ve seen many less advanced riders do. The horse’s neck rounds and its head stays down, making its steps light and refined, and Sunghoon holds the reins long and low on each side of the horse’s garrot so he can gallop in a continuous circle.

The sight is breathtaking.

You’d always thought that horses had a certain grace to them, especially such tall and slim horses like the one right in front of you, and Sunghoon, with his perfect stance and control, somehow brought even more of that grace out. It was clear that it took a lot of work and talent to reach such elegance.

Although he seemed highly concentrated on what he was doing, Sunghoon noticed you after a minute of you standing there, all but gawking at him. You see him chuckle as he subtly changes his position on the horse and slows to a trot, heading towards you.

“Hey,” he calls out when you’re within hearing distance of each other. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just… taking a walk,” you say, pointing to the path behind you with your thumb but your gaze not leaving Sunghoon, still wearing an expression of astonishment on your face. “Sunghoon, that was- I mean, just, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. You looked amazing,” you say, unable to keep your honesty at bay. If the girls from the club had seen him ride like this, then you were definitely starting to understand why they were so smitten over him - you felt almost starstruck.

He chuckles again and looks down bashfully, hoping the dim light hides his growing blush from you. “Thanks. I wasn’t really doing anything special.”

“Not anything special, are you kidding? I’m serious, that was awesome. It was like- like a figure skater gliding, or like a ballet dancer doing turns or something,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

Your grin gets even wider when he lets out a giggle at your words, immediately covering his mouth with his palm when he hears the sound he’s made. He really does have a thing for being paid attention to and praised, you note.

“So you were just on a walk?” he asks awkwardly as a way of changing the subject, scratching the back of his head.

“I needed some fresh air, I guess. Plus, I’ve only been staying in the club, so I thought I’d take a walk around.”

“I can show you around when I’ve got time this week, if you want.” His offer seems to come as a surprise to the both of you, but you nod anyway, grateful for the extended hand.

“That’d be nice,” you say. You’re not sure what’s happening when you two stay there for a few seconds, just smiling shyly at each other, but you don’t hate it.

“Have you ever been on a horse?” he asks, breaking the silence first.

“Well, just a couple times, but it wasn’t lessons or anything, so I don’t know if it counts- wait, wait, what are you doing?”

A sudden mischievous smile has made its way to Sunghoon’s features as he dismounts, bringing the horse next to you. “Wanna try, then?”

“No,” you say with a pointed look. “No way. That horse is taller than me, Sunghoon, I’m not getting on him.”

“Oh c’mon, I promise you it’s not scary, and I’ll be holding onto the reins the whole time. We can just walk back to the club like this.” His eyes are working hard to convince you, and his small pout makes what little resolve you had crumble.

“Fine. But you better not let go of that horse.”

“I won’t,” he says, and something about his tone makes your qualms dissipate.

You walk over to where he’s standing on the left hand side of the horse and hook your left foot in the stirrup. Sunghoon instructs you to place your hands on each end of the saddle and hoist yourself up. It requires a lot more arm strength than you’d have imagined after seeing so many riders do it effortlessly, but Sunghoon is there to help you up as soon as he sees you struggling, two strong hands coming up to hold you at the waist and lift you onto the horse. You tell yourself it’s the physical exertion and not his touch that renders you breathless.

“Wow,” you say when you look around you, almost two meters above ground.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

A small giggle escapes your lips. “Yeah. Pretty cool.”

“How does it feel? Are you sitting okay? Here, I’ll change the stirrup length so they fit you. Or we can just cross them over the saddle, since you won’t really need them, anyway.”

“No, I’d rather wear them, please,” you say, and your slight anxious tone makes Sunghoon chuckle.

When he’s done adjusting the stirrups for you and made sure you’re comfortable, he shows you how to hold the reins properly and tells you how to get the horse to start walking. “We usually teach beginners that you knock your heels against their flanks, but because Flame has only been mounted by more advanced riders, he might not like that. Don’t panic,” he reassures as soon as he sees your eyes go wide, “just press your calves against him instead of using your heels. Here, see? I’m holding him by the front of the reins, so he won’t run off.”

“Right, right,” you breathe out. Sunghoon’s right there, so there’s no reason to stress about this.

“Good. Just a small pressure from your calves, and we’re good to go.”

Flame is very reactive, already started walking when you’ve barely squeezed your legs against him. With Sunghoon practically directing the horse for you, you realize there’s nothing for you to do but enjoy the ride.

“This feels nice,” you say as you try to get used to Flame’s quick but steady rhythm. Sunghoon’s smile is better than any other spoken answer he could’ve given you. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you decide to speak up.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Sunghoon replies, looking up at you.

“Why were you so mean to me the first night I got here?”

He seems slightly taken aback by your question, but you get a glimpse of a guilty expression before he looks back down. “Right, sorry about that. I’ve kind of been feeling bad about it all week, but I was scared to bring it up.”

“It’s okay, I’m just curious about the sudden change is all,” you say.

“I just-” he starts, but then seems to think for a bit. “I’m not the best with strangers, for one. Plus, you were going to stay for the whole summer. I’ve built a routine for myself every summer here, and I don’t like it when something, or someone, disturbs my peace. Also, no offense, but I’m not a huge fan of you city folk. So many people at school have this weird prejudice against me for being from the middle of nowhere, so I’ve kind of got a low tolerance for them. So before I even met you, I didn’t really like you. Sorry, that’s harsh.”

You tell him not to worry about it. His words make you understand him a bit more, and you’re glad it doesn’t seem to be anything too personal against you. You tell him to go on and he sighs. “And you know, I talked with my parents and they told me it’ll be nice to have someone else around to help, and that your grandmother always talks highly of you, and that it was stupid to have decided in advance I wouldn’t like you, and I sort of agreed, but I couldn’t bring myself to be okay with it all. It’s like, we’ve been fine all this time, so why bring in someone new? My parents told me that technically this whole property belongs to your grandmother, and that she could bring anyone she wanted, and I couldn’t really say anything against that. But anyway, I told myself that if I just was cold and pretended you weren’t here, that it’d be fine. But then I- I saw you, and…” his words trail off here and he looks down as if embarrassed to say what comes next.

“And?” you pry, too curious not to.

You really have to focus to hear his words because of how low he mumbles them. “And you were really pretty…”

This confession that seemingly comes out of the blue makes your heart swell with satisfaction and you can’t help but tease him about it. “What was that? I didn’t hear you clearly.”

“Oh c’mon, you heard me. Don’t make me say it again.”

“I want you to say it again, though.”

He sighs and gives in. “Fine. I said you were pretty.”

You laugh, way happier than you should be at his words, and he whines at you to not make fun of him. “So you were mean to me because I was pretty? Doesn’t make much sense,” you taunt.

He sighs again, shaking his head a bit as if in disbelief he’s actually talking about this. “It’s just that… I wanted to be nice, I promise you I did, but I just… I’m not even sure myself. I think it just pissed me off even more, because it wasn’t like having to ignore some rando, it was having to ignore a really pretty girl, which obviously I don’t really want to do,” he says, and you laugh again. “But then you ended up being really nice as well and even funny, and I felt like an asshole for being mean. Which I should never have been in the first place, I know. I’m just… bad with strangers, like I said. Not used to them. It’s not an excuse for my behavior, though, so I’m sorry.”

You look at him with a smile and thank him for apologizing. Sadly, it’s a lot more than most nineteen-year-old boys would do, so you appreciate it. You spend the rest of the ride teasing him about how he thinks you’re pretty and how he was really acting like a tsundere, earning a few embarrassed chuckles from him. Something about getting him flustered just gets you going: his shy smile that reveals a pair of dimples and another of fangs, the blush creeping on his cheeks as he looks down at his feet. Too adorable.

When you reach the entrance to the club, he helps you get off the horse, holding you when your knees almost buckle at the impact of your feet against the ground. For some reason, you weren’t expecting to be so high up, even though you had been on a nearly two-meter horse for the past fifteen minutes.

“You know, I could teach you how to mount, if you’re interested,” he says as you brush some horse hair from your leggings.

That’s the second offer Sunghoon makes you tonight; he’s really showing you his nice side now, you realize with a flip of your stomach. You could just say yes, that sounds fun, but instead, you decide to annoy him some more. “Didn’t know I was so pretty that the Park Sunghoon would offer to give me lessons!”

He rolls his eyes playfully and starts to walk away with Flame. “Forget it then.”

You giggle as you catch up to him and nudge his shoulder with yours. “I’d love to.”

From that day on, it’s a lot easier to be around Sunghoon. He still doesn’t let you complain, and you can tell the walls he’s built around himself have only shrunk by a few bricks, but at least his attitude doesn’t flip around anymore. He reveals a side of himself that’s goofier than you’d have imagined, cracking random dad jokes and making side comments that never fail to make you laugh. He’s also quite sensitive to your teasing, always looking away with a blush, mumbling a small whatever at your words, but his shy smile lets you know that he doesn’t actually mind it.

The riding lessons usually happen in between work breaks or at the end of the day, and after a few of them, you know how to get a horse to start, turn, and stop, and you don’t like a complete fool when the horse’s pace goes up to a trot, having mastered the art of sitting and standing at the right time. Sunghoon had shown you a few horses you could practice on and you’d gone for a piebald horse named Picasso whose garrot reached your chin, because the agglomeration of white hairs at the top of his otherwise black head formed a small heart.

Although you’d noticed from the get-go that Sunghoon was nothing less than gorgeous, it hadn’t hit you in the face until now that you could call him a friend, and every time he smiled or that the light hit his eyes a certain way, your heart skipped a few beats. At first, you told yourself that that was it - you found him pretty. That didn’t mean much more than you being able to recognise beauty, and it certainly didn’t mean you actually liked him as anything else than a friend.

That was until this one day, when he was giving you a lesson after everyone had left the club. In the south of France where temperatures often rise to the high thirties in the summer, heavy storms are bound to break out. This was one of those days - it had been raining the entire day, but it had calmed out a bit at the end of the afternoon which was why you had gone ahead with the lesson. However, twenty minutes into it, the rain got heavier again and thunder suddenly rang, loud and resonating in the emptiness of the fields. Horses are generally skittish creatures, and Picasso was no exception, the sound frightening him so much that he took off in a rapid gallop. In less than a fortnight of lessons you hadn’t developed the strong legs and quick reflexes of an advanced rider, and you were unable to keep up with him, falling off of him with a yelp, everything happening in the fraction of a second.

You fell right on your butt, the pain shooting off from there and spreading to your whole body and taking away your breath for three long seconds. You had barely the time to register what had happened that Sunghoon was already next to you, frantically asking if you were okay and telling you to stay still. He pulled his phone out and called Yeji, telling her to come to the riding hall quickly.

From your peripheral vision you could see Picasso pacing back and forth at the other side of the hall, as if to calm himself down. Sunghoon held you up with one firm hand planted on your back, his other hand resting on your arm as his thumb brushed your skin comfortingly. He helped you regain a normal heart rate by making you mirror his long and controlled breaths, worried eyes never once leaving your face.

Yeji got to the riding hall in no time and immediately spotted you sitting on the floor and Sunghoon crouching over you, but her brother asked her to please take Picasso back to his stall before she could walk over to the two of you. She nevertheless asked if you were okay and you nodded, trying to give her a faint smile that reassured both her and Sunghoon.

“You feeling better?” Sunghoon asked when your tears had finally stopped falling, wiping away the ones that had rained down your cheeks and reached your jawline.

You nodded, taking a deep breath through your nose that turned out to be useless when you opened your eyes and realized how close Sunghoon was, face merely inches away from yours and arms wrapped around you, taking your breath away more than the pain had. “Y-yeah, I’m fine, more shocked than anything.”

He let out a chuckle of relief and brushed the hair away from your face, fully putting your heart and lungs out of order. “I’m glad. Falls always happen when you first start out riding, but they’re still really scary. I was worried you got badly hurt for a second there,” he says simply, and before you can even process his words, he asks, “Are you feeling ready to get up?”

You can only nod, looking up at Sunghoon like he saved you from a near-death experience as he helps you up. If he notices your gawking, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re thankful for it. In your three weeks of knowing each other, you’ve been the one to tease Sunghoon and make him unable to say anything. Even just in general, you’re used to being the flirt that makes boys blush - very rarely were they able to do the same to you, even though they all tried their hardest. Yet Sunghoon, without even realizing it or doing it on purpose, had just made your heart flutter and your brain draw a blank. You wished you could blame it on the shock you just had and the pain still making your legs weak, but you’re reminded of all the times a simple smile or passing touch had put you in the same state, and you know you’d be a fool to continue on ignoring them.

It takes you literally falling flat on your ass to realize you have feelings for Park Sunghoon.

Unsure what to do with this newfound information, you decide to keep things between you and Sunghoon as they were. You’ll be leaving at the end of August anyway, no need to make things awkward for the remainder of your stay. Although some moments make you wonder if he might feel some kind of way for you too, you try not to think too much of them and enjoy your friendship as is.

When you’ve reached a level where you being on a horse isn’t a danger to yourself or those around you, Sunghoon keeps his promise of showing you more of the premises and you go on horse rides together, allowing you to discover random creeks and benches that were placed in the middle of nowhere. You go on these a few times a week when you’re all done with your tasks of the day and the raging heat of the sun has somewhat calmed, and to your surprise, you actually really enjoy being out in nature, even though bugs are still a very much unwelcome part of it.

One day he mentions vet school and you’re reminded of your grandmother’s words on your first night here about how it wasn’t particularly what he wanted to do, so you ask him about it. He turns to you with a stunned look on his face. “I didn’t know she knew about that.”

“She told me she noticed a lot of things like that.”

He turns his head again and gazes up at the sky. “Well, she’s not wrong. It’s my parents that wanted me to go to vet school. I’d be happy just taking care of the club and making a living that way, but they say they don’t need my help year round and that it’s better for me to take up a better job.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to do it, it’s very impressive that you’re top of your class.”

He chuckles shyly and a blush appears on his cheeks. “Did Yeji say that? I only got the top grade for a couple of subjects, not all of them,” he says, making you scoff as if to say ‘still, very impressive.’ “And you know, I still like it and find it interesting, and if I’m doing it, might as well give it my best and make my parents proud.”

“Yeah, I get that. My parents are both doctors so there was never any doubt in either their or my mind that I’d become one too, until I started my first year and realized that maybe I could’ve done something else.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

You turn your head to look at him and he mirrors you. “Cause if I’m doing it, might as well give it my best and make my parents proud.”

You both look away with a chuckle. “Guess we’re more similar than I thought we were,” he says, taking you aback, but you’re very glad he thinks that way. You turn to your side, leaning against your elbow as you peer down at him.

“What about a riding career? Had you ever thought about that?”

“God, yeah,” he answers without any hesitation. “My parents signed me up for a few competitions when I was younger, and I won a couple. It made them happy, so I was happy, but I also actually really liked it. My parents never really asked how seriously I wanted to take it, though, and I didn’t say anything, so when Yeji started showing a lot of interest in competitions and becoming a professional rider they focused their attention on her and assumed I didn’t really mind, I guess. I never tried to prove them wrong. As I said, I’d be fine just taking care of the club.” He sighs and pauses for a second. “She was really young when she said she wanted to have a horse riding career, and my parents just ran with it. Now that she’s older and it takes up basically ninety percent of her life, I can tell it’s a lot of pressure on her. But it’s too late to switch places and she’s the same as me, doesn’t want to let down our parents. I just hope she won’t push herself too much, you know.”

You nod, listening intently to his words. “I’m sure you’ll be there to watch over her if she ever does. You seem like a good older brother.”

He smiles and looks up at you. “I try to be.” He reaches a hand up to your face and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sudden, unfamiliar and intimate gesture takes you by surprise and as soon as he registers your wide eyes and agape lips he retracts his hand, apologizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird, I just- I don’t- I’m sorry,” he stammers, looking away with a blush.

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, too stunned by what just happened, and he looks back at you, calling out your name in a small voice. His worried expression immediately crumbles when you start laughing. “It’s fine,” you say between giggles. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and smiles again. “Sorry, I just did it without thinking. My friends and family are always super touchy so I’m just used to that sort of thing.”

“I’m the opposite,” you say, and Sunghoon raises his eyebrows. “My parents aren’t very affectionate. I mean, they tell me they’re proud of me, and buy me gifts and stuff like that, but we never hug, or say we love each other. You’ve seen my grandma, right? The only time she’s hugged me in the almost three weeks I’ve been here was the very first day, and that’s because we hadn’t seen each other in six months.”

Sunghoon nods and hums at your words. “Yeah, now that you say that, your grandma isn’t the type to hug, or, I don’t know, pet your hair or anything, even though I’ve known her basically my whole life. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, and you shake your head.

“No, don’t worry, you didn’t. It was actually… kinda nice,” you admit, looking away from him quickly.

“Really?” he asks with one of the widest grins you’ve ever seen on him, and you can’t believe this is the same boy that glared at you as he opened the door just a few weeks ago. You look at him from the corner of your eyes for a few seconds, trying to hide your smile, but give in and nod.

He opens his arms wide and says, “Come here,” and you look at him in disbelief.

“As in…” you say, pointing with your index finger to his chest, and he nods, blinking slowly. You scoff but do it anyway, resting your head on his chest, and a weird but warm bubble envelops your insides as he circles your waist with an arm and caresses your hair with his other hand.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “This is okay.”

One Friday morning when he’s grooming Nellie and you’re braiding Picasso’s mane, he tells you he’s driving to the city tonight to meet up with his friends. “We’re just going to McDonald’s and then the cinema… and they’re kinda losers, you know, but it’d be fun if you came too. If you want to, I mean,” he offers, his shyness preventing him from looking you in the eyes. When you say you’d love to, his whole face lights up.

The day passes and when the clock strikes six p.m., you walk out of your grandmother’s house and find Sunghoon who’s waiting for you, back resting against his parents’ car. Hands in his pockets and sunglasses on, you can tell he’s trying to look cool and it makes him all that much more endearing to you. He fixes his posture and takes his sunglasses off when he sees you approaching, as if trying to get a better look; he’s seen you wear cuter outfits than tank tops and denim shorts for the dinners with his family but you’ve never worn such a pretty dress, and his heart speeds up at the mere sight of you.

“Like what you see?,” you say when you’re closer to him, twirling around in your dress.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and the look on his face must not be far from the one you wore when you saw him with Flame in that clearing a couple weeks ago.

His honesty makes you a bit shy, and you thank him as you ruffle his hair on your way to the passenger seat of the car. He stands there dumbfounded for a second until you call out his name, getting him back down to reality.

On your way to Perpignan, he tells you about his friends Heeseung, Jay and Jake, and how they all met two years ago. He shared a dorm with Jay and Jake in their first year of preparatory classes, and Heeseung, in the year above, was assigned as his mentor. They all clicked instantly and have been practically inseparable ever since, although they all live quite far away from each other, which is why it’s easiest to meet up in Perpignan when they’re on break from their studies.

“Heeseung’s girlfriend will also be there. Her name is Yunjin, she’s really nice, so if the guys get annoying you two can just talk together.”

“Why, do you guys have a tendency to get annoying when you’re together?,” you ask lightheartedly, making Sunghoon chuckle.

“Not always, but it’s a possibility. They’re nice though, so don’t worry. Jay and Jake especially are outgoing, even though Jay kinda ruins the mood sometimes cause his jokes are just awful. Heeseung is a bit shy though, just don’t take it personal if he like, doesn’t really talk to you or anything.”

“That’s funny, that reminds me of someone,” you say with a smile, unable to stop yourself. Sunghoon just replies with one of his famous whatevers.

It takes you about an hour to get to Perpignan. When you arrive, his friends are waiting outside of the McDonald’s, the boys waving with their whole arms in your direction while Yunjin watches them cross-armed, a smile on her face. “Oh, God,” Sunghoon murmurs, already embarrassed by his friends. “They’re not always like that, I promise,” he says as you walk over to them.

“Really,” you deadpan when they’ve started chanting Sunghoon’s name, watching as his face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Hi guys,” he greets them, bro-hugging Heeseung, Jay and Jake and kissing Yunjin on each cheek. You remind yourself once again to start from the right and not the left, and greet the boys first. They all say “hi, Y/N” and give you their names, and you’re quite flustered that you don’t need to tell them your name.

“Sunghoon’s told us a lot about you,” Jake says with a knowing expression, and you all chuckle when Sunghoon mutters “shut up, Jake.”

You go to greet Yunjin next and you’re surprised when, rather than simply pressing the corner of her lips against your cheek like most people do when they greet someone they’re not particularly close to, she actually kisses your cheek, an extra-friendly gesture. “I was so relieved when Sunghoon said he was bringing a girl,” she confesses, reminding you of Yeji, “I can’t deal with having to babysit these four all the time. Look at them,” she says, gesturing towards the quartet with a nudge of her head. They’re sizing Sunghoon up, ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks and brushing away invisible creases in his t-shirt as he tries to swat their hands away, to no avail, and you can’t help but laugh at them along with Yunjin.

You all head inside the McDonald’s, getting into pairs of two to pick your order on the giant touch screens. You choose a McChicken, potato wedges and ice tea, and Sunghoon chides you for getting wedges instead of fries.

“People who get those think they’re better than everyone else,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Because we are,” you say with a smile. You touch the screen to get to the payment page but Sunghoon goes back, saying he’ll order too.

“But I need to pay?” you say, looking up at him questioningly.

“I can pay for the two of us,” he says nonchalantly, and you tease him with an ‘ooh.’ “Shut up,” he mutters, already blushing, “just let me do something nice for you.”

“Fine,” you smile, nudging his shoulder with yours a bit. “Thanks. I’ll get the cinema tickets then.”

He turns to you abruptly, his eyebrows drawn in together. “But then that cancels out me paying for this…” he whines, and you give him a look as if to say, “yeah, exactly.”

“I don’t mind getting the tickets,” he says. “I get paid for my work at the club but I never spend any money, so, you know, I can get this for you. It makes me happy,” he mumbles, avoiding your teasing gaze.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you say, the nickname escaping your lips before you can stop it. He doesn’t seem to mind it; if anything, his blush gets deeper. You think he might end up eternally red at this rate.

“Of course.” He orders a double Big Mac, fries and a coke, and you tease him for getting such a boring meal. “They’re classics for a reason,” he defends himself.

You swear you’ve never seen him so red and so stuttery as when you get on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek as a thank you for paying, and you think there’s no way he could get any cuter than this. His friends don’t miss it and Jake punches him very obnoxiously in the shoulder as what you can only assume is a weird congratulatory gesture.

His friends are a bit annoying, but in a funny way, so it’s okay. You’re so unaccustomed to their very unique sense of humor that everything they say and do makes you laugh, whereas they’re used to behaving like that and don’t even question their weirdness anymore. Contrary to what Sunghoon told you, Jay’s jokes land with you every time, even when the whole table grunts.

Most of the conversation, to Sunghoon’s dismay, is spent telling embarrassing stories about him, which his friends have a lot of after having seen him drunk so many times. Heeseung asks you about how it’s been being with Sunghoon at the club, and you don’t really notice the sly smirk on his and Jake’s faces until you’re done answering. You tell them about all the things he’s made you do, but when you notice him about to complain, you add that it’s also been nice, learning how to ride a horse and spending time in the countryside.

“So you’ve seen Sunghoon ride, then?” Jake asks, and Heeseung’s snort tells you it’s not an innocent question.

“Yeah, I have,” you say, but it comes out more a question because their behavior confuses you.

Jake gives you a pointed look. “And, what did you think? I mean, it’s not the coolest sport out there, is it?” he asks, and the way Sunghoon looks down at his half-eaten burger is enough for you to put the puzzle pieces together.

You frown slightly. “Well, I think it’s a lot cooler than running after a ball and pretending like you’re gonna die when you twist your ankle,” you reply, remembering Jake’s mention of him playing soccer. Jay is quick to diffuse the tension when he sees Jake about to bite something back, saying to just talk about something else. You back off and look at Sunghoon, who seems to have completely spaced out and left the conversation. You rest your hand at the top of his knee, his attention snapping back towards you and he gives you a small smile, then turns to his friends and the conversation starts again as if nothing had happened. You’re thankful for it, because you don’t wanna create trouble the first time you meet them and make it awkward, but you really don’t appreciate his friends making him feel like he’s not “cool” because he’s a horse rider; there’s already enough stigma about it being a girls’ sport, he doesn’t need any added pressure from them.

The rest of the meal goes well, Heeseung and Yunjin throwing fries at each other, and the table making fun of Jay for eating his McFlurry so messily. Apart from the horse riding comment and the fact that they love teasing him (which you do too, to be fair), Sunghoon’s friends are nice and make him laugh, so you relax around them once again, although you and Jake exchange a few tense eye contacts. You won’t feel sorry for defending Sunghoon, even if you’ve known him for three weeks and Jake has for two years.

When you’re done eating, you walk to the movie theater that’s just two minutes away, the boys ahead and you and Yunjin in tow. “I’m really glad you spoke up for Sunghoon earlier, and I’m sure he appreciated it too,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear. “I’ve tried speaking about it with Heeseung, but he and Jake just don’t seem to get that it actually annoys Sunghoon and they say it’s just for fun. I did horse riding when I was a kid, so I know how hard it actually is, and Jay is just a bit more mature than them, so we try to get them to stop, but they still do it a bit. Their humor is basically just making fun of everyone in their group, so sometimes they don’t know when to stop.”

You nod at her words, the situation a bit clearer now. “He should bring them to the club and show them how good he is,” you say. “Or better yet, make them get on a horse so they can see firsthand that it’s not the horse doing all the work like everyone says.” Yunjin laughs and agrees, saying she’d pay to see those boys on a horse.

You reach the cinema as you make a note to talk to Sunghoon about this later before you can forget. You ask Yunjin what movie you’re seeing, realizing you had no idea, and she rolls her eyes. “I wanted to go see the new Marion Cotillard movie, but the boys said it looked boring, so we’re going to watch some horror movie. I don’t even know the name, but I’m sure it’s just a rehash of the same tired haunted house plot.”

While Sunghoon gets the tickets, you sneak to the food counter and get two bottles of coke and a large popcorn to share with him. He complains that he could’ve gotten that but you shut him up with a tut.

“Are you good at watching horror movies?” you lean in and whisper when you’re seated and waiting for the movie to start while ads play, and you see him shiver slightly, but that might just be because of the aircon in the theater and not your proximity.

“What do you mean, am I good at watching them? Do you mean if I like them?” he asks, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he looks at you.

“No, I mean if you get scared easily. You can like them and watch them a lot but still get scared. I feel like you’d scream at all the jumpscares,” you add that later part just to tease him, and you know you hit bullseye when he looks away with a scoff, straightening in his seat.

“I guess they’re fun to watch, but no, I don’t get scared. And I’m definitely not going to scream.” He looks down at you with a smirk, his confidence hitting him out of nowhere as it sometimes does. “But I know you will, so feel free to hold onto my arm when you get scared,” he says, and it’s your turn to scoff and look away.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be alright,” you say just as the lights start to dim and the movie starts playing.

It takes a while for the movie to pick up, so the first half hour, you’re not really into it, paying more attention to the way your hand brushes against Sunghoon’s whenever you reach for the popcorn at the same time rather than to what is happening on screen. However, when a ghost with a very unpleasant face suddenly pops out, you can’t keep yourself from jumping in your seat and letting out a small gasp which Sunghoon would’ve made fun of, had he not been twice spooked as you were, the pieces of popcorn he was about to eat discarded somewhere at his feet because of the jumpscare.

You share a look with Sunghoon and when the both of you realize the other was completely bluffing, you burst into quiet giggles. He offers you his arm to hold onto again and you roll your eyes but take it anyway, glad for the reassurance his warmth brings you. You wrap one hand around his bicep and place the other in his hand, interlacing your fingers together, and for once you’re the shy one and can’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze on the screen when you feel his eyes on you, surprised but pleased by your cute action.

You spend the rest of the movie like this, bodies turning towards each other every time something scary happens on screen as if instinctively going to the other to find comfort. If you weren’t in a public place, you probably would’ve ended up in his lap. Or he in yours, perhaps.

The loss of his warmth when the movie ends and the lights turn back on makes your heart a bit sad, and you already find yourself waiting for the time you’ll get to feel him next to you again. When you walk out of the theater, the sun’s finally set and the sky is starting to get dark. You all walk back to the parking lot, Heeseung, Jay, Jake and Yunjin ahead, talking about the movie excitedly and recalling their favorite scenes, but you and Sunghoon hang back a bit. He’s silent and for a second you’re worried all the hand-holding has made him awkward but when you look up at him, he gives you a smile that calms all your nerves in an instant.

Jake suddenly turns around to face you, walking backwards. “What did you two lovebirds think?” he asks.

“It was alright,” Sunghoon answers. “It had some scary scenes but I couldn’t really get into it.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you two were too busy being all- ow!” Jake starts but is interrupted by a kick in the shins, courtesy of Jay.

“Can you read the room, just once in your life, bro?” he says, and Jake rolls his eyes but turns back around anyway, leaving you and Sunghoon to laugh at his friends’ antics.

When you reach the parking lot, you say goodbye to everyone, saying it was nice meeting them and you hoped to see them again soon. “If you can, you should try and visit the club at some point, it’d be nice seeing you there,” you tell Yunjin as you hug her goodbye.

The car ride home is silent at first, betraying both your and Sunghoon’s shyness. “Tonight was nice,” you start, wanting to start a conversation after a few minutes of just looking out the window.

Sunghoon responds immediately as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. “Yeah? I’m glad. I was scared you weren’t going to like my friends or something…” he says, glancing at you with a worried expression on his face.

“Well, I really liked Yunjin and Jay…” you trail.

“But?”

“But…” you sigh, too late to turn back, but unsure whether it’s your place to bring this up. “Heeseung and Jake were nice, you know, but that comment they made about you horse riding really brushed me the wrong way.”

“Aww,” Sunghoon coos, and you roll your eyes at his fake saccharine tone. “Did it make you upset for me?”

“It did!” you say, wanting Sunghoon to know you were serious. “Friends shouldn’t make fun of your passions. Plus you’re really good at it, and I’m sure they’d be impressed by you. I talked about it with Yunjin, you know,” you add before he can cut in. “She said it happens all the time and you’re used to it, but it’s not something you should have to put up with. You should have them over at the club some day.”

Sunghoon hums, pouting his lips a bit. “I don’t know… It’s not that big of a deal. It’s how we mess with each other.”

“You looked really down when they were saying those things, Hoon. You’re allowed to say when something bothers you. And if they don’t listen, then they’re assholes. I know you’ve been friends for a while now, and I’m not trying to make you cut them off by any means, but I think you should talk to them. If they’re good friends, they’ll understand and not want to say something that hurts you. At least I hope so,” you say, looking out the window again to hide how upset this truly makes you. Sunghoon’s next words come as a surprise to you.

“Thanks, Y/N.” You look back at him with a questioning look, wordlessly asking him to go on, and he sighs. “I’m sort of used to keeping everything for myself. Taking a step back so I don’t take things personally, not complaining and just doing what I’m told even if it’s not what I want to do, stuff like that, I’m used to it. I just- I don’t wanna bother anyone, you know. I think you’re the first person who’s ever told me I’m allowed to voice things out.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds, shocked by this revelation. It’s very fitting of him - sacrificing his potential career for his sister, going to vet school to please his parents but taking care of the center whenever he’s on break. You didn’t know this behavior went deeper than that, and it was ingrained in him to just take it all and never put up a fight.

You say, “You’re allowed to put yourself first, you know. Sometimes, you even need to,” and it’s an unfamiliar breath of fresh air that blows away some of the weight on his shoulders, hearing those words. He chuckles a bit, hoping that the tears pooling in his eyes don’t accidentally overflow.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that, but it’s nice knowing I have the option. Thank you, Y/N,” he repeats, and you smile at him, relieved when he smiles back.

The rest of the car ride goes by in a flash as you make fun of each other for being so scared of the film and jump from topic to topic like frogs bouncing around lily pads, somehow neither of you ever losing track of the conversation. You tell him someone with such a boring McDonald’s order doesn’t deserve to have opinions and he says that of course you’d think that since you chose potato wedges instead of french fries.

Without noticing it, you soon reach the center, and Sunghoon walks you to your doorstep after parking the car. You stand in front of each other at the door, and you seriously feel like the main lead in a teen rom-com, butterflies in your stomach and all the works as you look up at him, expecting a little something.

“So…” he starts, pressing his lips into a flat line to hide his smile.

“So…” you repeat, nudging your foot with his as you both look down.

“Tonight was nice,” he says sheepishly and you can’t help but laugh, him soon imitating you.

“It was. But we’ve already established that, I think.”

“Right.” His gaze finds yours, and the look in his eyes makes your heart feel like it’s on an acid trip. You stare at each other for a few seconds, unable to look away, and you’re about to run off into the house, the tension too much to handle, when his eyes finally drop to your lips. Knowing him, he probably won’t do much more, so you take a small step towards him and raise your lips towards his, closing the distance between the two of you inch by inch, getting closer, closer, closer, until-

“Sunghoon!” Yeji’s voice rings out in the night, taking you aback as you gasp and stumble a few steps back, not wanting her to see you almost devour her brother’s face. Sunghoon closes his eyes and shakes his head, then lets out an exasperated “what.”

“I can’t believe you went to see that new movie without me. I saw it in Jay's story. I told you I wanted to go see it!”

He sighs and looks at you, mouthing a “sorry” before walking towards her, hooking his arm over her shoulders as he walks her back to their house.

“Sorry, lil sis. We can go watch it together, I don’t mind seeing it again. Also, why do you follow Jay? Unfollow him,” he commands, and after that you can’t hear anything because they’re too far away. You watch them walk with a smile on your face, appreciating their little moment together, and your heart does a little somersault of joy when Sunghoon turns around to wave at you from his door.

After that night, you’re more determined than ever to turn that almost-kiss into a actually-happened-kiss. However, your resolve soon seems to have been for nothing when Sunghoon tells you about how he wishes he didn’t have to leave with his parents, but they won’t let him stay, and you’re reminded of the Parks yearly vacation that starts the next day, exactly three days after the night out.

It’s a late Sunday afternoon and you’ve done everything you needed to for that day, so you and Sunghoon went off on a horse ride as you often do, deciding to take a break when you reach a field in which a bunch of haystacks rest. You only had to exchange a look to understand the other immediately, so you tied your horses to a tree and raced over to the closest stack, helping each other get to the top and laying there.

“I wish you didn’t have to go either,” you say, playing with a loose strand of hay peeking out from the stack in the small space between you and Sunghoon.

“You gonna miss me?” Sunghoon teases, grinning as he lightly nudges your shoulder.

“As surprising as it sounds, I think I might,” you say, and from the corner of your eye you see his grin get wider.

“I think I will too,” he replies, and he giggles when he sees you try and fail to suppress a smile. “Actually, I definitely will,” he adds just to see you smile bigger, and it works.

“When are you leaving again exactly?” you ask to change the subject.

“Early tomorrow morning. I still haven’t packed,” he says and sighs.

“We should head back so you can pack,” you say even though you don’t want to do that at all.

“Yeah, we should, but I don’t want to,” he replies, practically reading your mind. “I wanna stay here for a while.”

A small silence settles between the two of you, but it says more than a thousand words. The tension that has been hanging over your heads for a while now but only thickened after Friday night is almost palpable now. You’re laying so close that your arms are almost touching, occasionally brushing when one of you shifts, and if you turned your head, his face would be right there, which means his lips would be right there. Well, one of you is going to have to do something about this tension, you think, and it’s definitely not going to be him.

“Sunghoon?” you call out, turning your head towards the boy next to you. He does the same and your eyes meet. In this late afternoon hour, the sun is right behind you and he has to squint a little bit and use his hand as a shield to look at you properly. He looks a bit stupid like that, but you think he’s cute.

“Yeah?”

The warm feeling that spreads over your whole body at the sound of his voice is what gives you the confirmation that you want to say what you say next, and the courage to do it.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyebrows raise slightly but he’s quick to hide his surprise and starts grinning instead, revealing those fangs of his you love so much. You have a feeling they’d leave the cutest marks on your skin. “Sure,” he says, letting his eyes drift down to your lips just like that other night.

So you do.

You lean in close enough to press your lips onto his, letting them touch for a brief second before leaning back again. A small pout forms on his lips at the fleeting contact. “That’s it?”

You could just eat him whole, you think. A kiss will have to do. “What did you want?” you ask, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

“That wasn’t a proper kiss.”

“Yeah? What’s a proper kiss then?”

He looks away with a huff. “I’m sure you know what a proper kiss is. Why would you ask to kiss me if you’re not even gonna do it properly…”

“How about you show me then?”

This makes him look promptly back at you, his eyes a bit wider. When he just gulps without saying anything, you add: “Or should I try again? Properly this time?”

He nods, eyes set on your lips. He’d always found them pretty and inviting, and he’d caught himself daydreaming about this exact moment a few times, but now that it was right in front of him, his brain was short-circuiting. All he could do was close his eyes and wait for you.

You find it cute how he screws his eyes shut before you’re even kissing him, making him look like a k-drama female lead during the first kiss scene. You can’t help but smile a little even as you bring your lips to his once again, this time a bit firmer, a bit deeper. He waits for you to move your lips against his before he does so too, but once he’s started, he’s unstoppable.

In fleeting conversations and off-hand comments, you’d learned that Sunghoon had had a couple girlfriends but that it always ended after a few months. When you’d accused him of “virgin behavior” after he did something embarrassing for an almost twenty-year-old, he’d fervently defended himself of very much not being virgin and very much having had sex before, which you’d said was what a virgin would say, but you knew he was saying the truth because he wasn’t the type to lie, especially about this sort of thing.

What was sure was that he kissed you like he knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well. His shy demeanor from a minute ago is completely gone as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, holding you tight against him. His hands were shy at first, but when yours made their way to his hair so you could gently tug at the strands there, he understood he didn’t need to be so polite. One of his hands found your waist while the other cupped your cheek, his thumb coming under your chin to tilt it up towards him.

Your lips move against the others’ like you’d done this your whole life, and you’re unable to keep it Disney-friendly for long as your feelings and the fact that you were finally touching each other like you’d been wanting to take over any reason you had left. The kiss turns hungrier, needier, hotter, as if catching up on all that time you lost to dilly-dallying around each other. It’s easy to slip your tongue inside his mouth and you swear you hear him moan when your tongues come into contact, the small sound making your brain turn into mush and giving you one goal, and one goal only: hear him again.

You pull away and press a palm to his shoulder, and he lets you push him down on his back as you straddle his lips, positioning your core right over his growing erection and watching with a smirk as he bites his lips and furrows his eyebrows, humming at the feeling of you against him. You press your lips back against his and note with satisfaction that his movements are messier than before, kissing you mouth open and letting you take full control of the kiss, almost unable to focus on kissing you and on feeling you grind very lightly, almost teasingly against him. Slick pools in your underwear at the angelic sounds he’s making, and you’re very happy he doesn’t seem to be shy about being vocal because his moans are the prettiest sound you've ever heard.

You move away from his lips and trail wet kisses on his cheeks and jawline, moving down to his neck and his Adam’s apple, gently biting and sucking the skin at the base of his throat, enough to make him squirm underneath you but not enough to leave a mark, even though you’d love to, the thought of other girls seeing him all marked up because of you filling you with a sense of pride you didn’t know you could have.

You find his sweet spot at the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, so you kiss him more there, tracing the other side of his neck with your fingernails. He’s so sensitive and those actions alone are enough to have him whine a small “fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” and you think you might actually go insane with lust for him.

You’ve just started kissing him on the lips again, his hands holding your hips so tightly you think they might almost bruise your skin and his kisses desperate and needy, when his phone buzzes. Taken aback, you pull away quickly, and he whines at the loss of contact. He goes in to kiss you again but you tut and tell him to check his phone in case it’s important. You note that he does what you say, and you wonder whether that’ll hold up for other situations. You observe him as he unlocks his phone and reads the text, and you curse yourself for waiting until he leaves to do this. You could’ve had him heaving, cheeks rosy, lips slightly swollen and eyes blown out for some weeks now, but your hesitation prevented you from doing anything, and now you’ll have to wait ten more days to see him like this again - that is, if he wants to do it again.

“It’s my mom,” he says with a sigh, snapping you out of your reverie. “She says I need to come home and pack my bag and have dinner.”

You pout at each other and he sits up, wrapping his arms around your middle and nuzzling his face in your neck. The rather intimate action surprises you a bit, but mostly you find it endearing, and it was pretty obvious Sunghoon would be the clingy type. You’re happy he feels comfortable enough around you to show this side of him - plus, it makes him ten times more adorable than he already was in your eyes.

“I want to go even less now,” he murmurs, voice muffled and you giggle at him as you caress his head.

“Same. But ten days will go by quickly, right? And I’ll be right here when you come back,” you say, leaning back so you can cup his face in your palms and look at him, his cheeks a bit squished. “You’re so cute,” you whisper with a smile, and the compliment makes his cheeks heat up but for once he doesn’t look away and keeps your gaze locked in his.

You peck his lips quickly and get off of his lap. “Right, we should go then,” and when he whines in protest, you add, “your mom will be mad, Hoon,” which is enough to convince him.

You head slowly back to the center and walk the horses to their stalls, talking about this and that as you often do, but you grow silent as you near his house, dreading having to say goodbye. The only difference with Friday night is that you’re standing at his door and not yours; the tension and heart-fluttering awkwardness are the same. Well, maybe not exactly the same, because you had your tongue down his throat just fifteen minutes ago.

“You’ll be alright when I’m gone, right?” he asks, taking your hands in his and letting them hang between you two.

“Yeah, I will. Plus, your parents’ friend is coming to take care of the club, right? I’ll help her, and I’ll hang out with my grandma while you’re on vacation and the ten days will be over before we know it,” you say, more trying to reassure yourself than him.

Sunghoon sighs but nods as if trying to convince himself too. “Right.”

“Right,” you repeat, and look up at him with a smile. The thought that this might look completely dramatic to any outsider crosses your mind, but you ignore it because you’re really not looking forward to spending ten days without Sunghoon here. When he comes back, you’ll only have three weeks left, and that simple fact already makes your heart ache.

He takes you in his arms and holds you close to him for a few moments. “Okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N,” he whispers in your hair. “Don’t miss me too much. But not too little either. Just the right amount,” he jokes, and usually you’d have punched his chest or something but right now all you can do is chuckle. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips, and when you take a step back, he opens the door and waves at you goodbye, then disappears inside the house.

Not to be dramatic, but those ten days are probably the longest of your life. The Parks’ friend, Madame Rasson, is nice enough, and you enjoy helping her out and having dinner with her and your grandmother every night, but she’s no Park Sunghoon. You don’t really have the urge to gallop away with her and kiss at the top of a haystack as the sun sets behind you, nor do you feel like a small part of your heart stays with her when you’re not together.

Sunghoon calls you every night under the pretext of wanting to know how the horses are doing, but you know Mrs Park and Mme Rasson are keeping in touch and that he just wants to talk to you. You don’t call him out on it though and let him tell you about his day when he’s done pretending he cares about who did what and who went where. After a few days, as you’re nearing the end of a call, he tells you he misses you then hangs up right after as if he hadn’t been basically crying into your shirt about how much he didn’t want to leave and how much he’d miss you just a few days prior, but you just giggle and text him that you miss him too, which he texts a heart back to.

Yunjin also comes around one day, saying she missed horse riding and wanted to hang out again, so you show her around the club and go on a horse ride together, taking her to all the spots Sunghoon took you to, pointing with a giggle to the spot where you made out. She gasps when she hears that and lightly slaps your shoulder. “You two made out?” she says, surprise and excitement all over her face. You only giggle some more and nod, face heating up.

“I mean, it was obvious it would happen at some point. You guys were giving each other major heart eyes the other day.” You roll your eyes and say you weren’t even though you know you very much were. “Plus, the guys send a lot of voice messages on their group chat and I sometimes listen to them with Heeseung. The way Sunghoon talks about you is so cute it makes me want to throw up sometimes.”

The thought of Sunghoon talking about you to his friends makes your heart jump and swell with pride a bit. “Really? What does he say?” you ask, not looking at Yunjin to hide the stupid smile you’re wearing.

“He just talks about your day and what you guys did, but he’ll focus on a random thing like the way you said hi to the horses or how you ate your food and he’ll be like, it was the cutest thing ever. He doesn’t go into too much detail cause he knows the guys will make fun of him but it’s still really sweet. Heeseung told me he’s never talked about any other girl like that, you know,” she says, looking at you pointedly. “And you probably also know Sunghoon isn’t the easiest to get to know. But he’s clearly let you in, and he really wanted you to meet the boys, so I think he really, really likes you.”

You give yourself a few moments to process Yunjin’s words, but all you can say in the end is “Well, I really, really like him too,” and Yunjin laughs at you.

She stays over for dinner, charming your grandmother with her jokes and willingness to help, and spends the night as well. You two stay up until late talking about your families, school, how she met Heeseung and how cute you and Sunghoon are, and the fact that you have to stay quiet so as not to wake your grandma up makes you want to laugh even harder. When she leaves the next morning, she mentions that she saw the sea was really nearby and asked if you’d been.

“I haven’t yet, but Sunghoon did say he knew a spot and would take me sometime… I’ll ask him about it again,” you say, and she nods fervently, saying she hasn’t been to the beach forever. You hug each other goodbye and you wave at her until you can’t see her car anymore, and you get that empty feeling of being alone again, so you go find your grandmother and bother her with tons of questions which she answers patiently. Five days to go until Sunghoon comes back.

And then these five days are over, and Sunghoon finds you in the middle of the afternoon, taking a nap in your grandmother’s backyard and oblivious to the fact that the boy you like the most is back. He wakes you up by taking your sunglasses delicately off of your eyes and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You frown and open your eyes bit by bit until you recognise the boy hunching over you and then open your eyes all at once, sitting up in your lounge chair and wrapping your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, pulling him down towards you.

“Hi,” he giggles, chin hooked over your shoulder.

“You’re back!”

“I am.” He pulls away to peck your lips, and it’s like he hasn’t even left a day. “I’ll go get changed and check on Nellie and then we can go for a horse ride, if you want?”

You nod excitedly. “Sure. I’ll go get the horses ready.” You both rush to your respective destinations and meet again fifteen minutes later in the grooming hall just as you finish buckling Picasso’s saddle. Sunghoon pecks your lips once more just because he can, and then you’re off.

Sunghoon’s prepared a blanket so you could lie in the grass in the clearing. On your way there, you ask him about his vacation and he admits it was actually really fun. They drove down to Spain, spending a couple days in Barcelona and then a week in a smaller seaside town. In terms of weather and landscape, it wasn’t very different from their hometown, but the food was amazing and the people very welcoming, and Sunghoon and Yeji could finally put their years of learning Spanish in school to the test.

“I took a lot of pictures because there were so many things that reminded me of you or that I thought you’d like,” he admits bashfully, taking out his phone from his bag once you’re settled on the blanket. You rest your head on his chest and rest your hand on the side of his stomach, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your ear and commenting on the pictures he shows you, giggling when he starts rapidly scrolling through fifteen consecutive selfies.

You try to keep up a conversation but it’s a bit hard to do when his neck is right there, close enough for you to press kisses on or to nuzzle your face in if you just lifted your head a bit, and his skin is soft and warm and you want to feel all of it under your palms. Even Sunghoon, who usually never shuts up when he’s with someone he’s comfortable around, is quiet. His sigh when you trail your hand up from his waist to his shoulder tells you he’s probably thinking the same as you, and as soon as you graze your fingers through his hair, he’s rolled you onto your back and his lips are on yours, kissing you with all the need that’s built up over the past ten days. You have a feeling just kissing won’t be enough to satisfy either of you today.

There’s a sense of urgency to all of your movements, the way all four hands are restless and travel each other’s body tirelessly, pulling on the other’s hair, kneading the skin here, caressing it here. Sunghoon bites down on your lower lip and the action makes you moan, so he takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your kisses are open-mouthed and wet and messy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way because they translate all the desire you have for him and you want him to know exactly just how he’s making you feel.

You remember how much Sunghoon likes it when you compliment him, or tease him using your words, so you decide to do just that. When he starts trailing kisses your jaw, then sucking and biting at your neck, leaving tiny marks there, you whisper his name, making him hum.

“Hoon. I want you so fucking bad.”

You feel him trembling at your words and he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, whining as he continues pressing wet kisses there. He ruts his hips into yours, seemingly more by reaction than deliberately. “Want you too,” he murmurs, and slips his hands underneath your t-shirt, the flesh on your stomach burning everywhere his hands touch it. You lift your arms so he can take the piece of fabric off, and he’s quick to find the back of your bra as well, unclasping it and revealing your breasts to him.

In no time he’s already delving into your body, pretty pink lips circling and sucking on one of your nipples and deft fingers playing with the other, warmth spreading all over you at the intense pleasure he’s finally giving you, wetness already starting to make your underwear stick to your core.

Your fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling whenever it feels particularly good, and he seems to like the pain that comes with it because it’s enough to have him moaning around your nipple. “Fuck, Hoon, that feels so good,” you breathe out. Despite your praise and to your confusion, he pulls away, trailing kisses down your stomach until he reaches your shorts and looks up at you when his fingers are around the button, asking for confirmation to go further. He whispers “thank God” when you nod your head yes.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he says as he drags your shorts and underwear down at the same time, eyes fixated on your glistening folds.

You hold yourself up on your elbows, admiring him and his blown-out pupils and disheveled hair - he’s never looked hotter. “You already were, baby.”

“Wanna make you feel even better,” he says before diving right into your pussy, giving you no time to get used to the feeling as his tongue licks up a long stripe up your folds before finding your clit, alternating between giving it kitty-licks and sucking it. You’re a moaning mess in an instant, pulling even harder at his hair and sometimes holding onto his shoulders as if your body might start levitating at any moment. As if that didn’t already feel good enough, he then adds a finger, and quickly a second one into your hole, his thin and long digits feeling better than yours ever have. He must be some kind of fingering expert because he finds your g-spot in thirty seconds, pressing the sensitive spot again and again until you come apart for him in an embarrassingly quick orgasm, moaning his name and how good it feels like a broken record.

That doesn’t seem to be enough for Sunghoon, however, who doesn’t relent and sends your body into overstimulation until you find the energy to tell him to stop. “Was that good?” he asks innocently when his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was it good?” you repeat, almost scoffing. “Baby, it was amazing.”

“Really?” he asks, a childlike grin on his face that is worlds away from the things he just did to your body.

“Really. Let me show you how good it felt,” you say with a mischievous smile, pushing his shoulder down so you switch positions and he’s the one laying, back against the blanket. “Let’s get this all off, yeah?” you say, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and when that’s gone, with the band of his sweatpants and underwear. He gulps when he’s fully naked under your curious gaze, but he’s brave and his eyes don't leave your face, patiently waiting for what you’ll say or do next.

“So pretty, Hoon,” you purr as your hands trail from his thighs up to his neck, applying some pressure there, not enough to cut off any oxygen but enough for him to feel it. “And all for me,” you add as you mark his neck just like he did yours, before pushing yourself down his body until your face is level with his now fully hard cock. You press wet kisses to his thighs and hear his breaths get shakier when your kisses get dangerously close to his crotch. “Haven’t even touched you, and you’re already this hard, baby?” you tease, and chuckle when his cock twitches at your words.

“Please,” he implores, voice small.

“Just a second, baby. Be good for me, yeah?” you ask and he nods, eyes screwed shut as if in pain. You had a feeling that Sunghoon might like to give control rather than have it, but you hadn’t thought he’d let you have full power over him like that. You can’t say you dislike it, though.

You don’t want to make him wait for too long, and the sigh of relief he lets out when you finally place your tongue on the base of his shaft and lick a stripe up is worth it. Your baby is loud and lets you know exactly what he likes, and what he likes is when you pay attention to his tip and his sensitive balls at the same time. You alternate between having your lips around his tip, hands massaging him, and your palm circling his tip, taking his balls in your mouth and letting them out with a pop. In just a few minutes, his whole body is shaking under your touch and his moans are getting louder and louder, almost shout-like. He calls out your name and pleads with you to stop, and you look up at him with a worried expression. Before you can ask if he’s okay, he says, “Wanna cum inside you,” and how can you refuse him when his blush has spread to his whole face and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and pleasure, trying his best not to cum?

“Of course, baby.”

He sits up and you straddle his lap, telling him you’re on the pill when he’s about to pull out a condom he’d sneakily brought from his bag. “Fuck, okay,” he says, voice shaky at the idea of feeling your bare walls around him.

You raise yourself over him, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck and his around your waist, you line your entrance up with his dick and then sit back down onto his lap, his cock stretching you out in the best way possible as it slips right in, your wetness serving as natural lube. You waste no time before moving your hips against his, first rocking them back and forth and then raising them up and down, the both of you letting out loud moans and breaths at the pleasure taking over your bodies.

“Y/N, feels so good, gonna cum quick,” he breathes out into the crook of your neck, biting the flesh there which feels surprisingly good.

“That’s okay baby, you’ve done so well, cum whenever you want.”

“Want you to cum too, though,” he whines, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You already made me- fuck!” you scream out of surprise when Sunghoon’s hands suddenly grip your thighs tightly and he holds you steady like this as he ruts his hips up into yours, the angle hitting right where it needs to. Your brain can’t form sentences that make any sort of sense so you’re left blabbering praises and curses at the same time, feeling your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, fuck- so close, Hoon…”

The feeling of your walls clenching as your high washes over you is enough for Sunghoon to tip over the edge as well, your releases mixing together in a loud and sticky mess. You’ve never felt closer to heaven as you do now.

The seriousness of it all soon starts to fade as you and Sunghoon lock eyes and burst into giggles, breathing still heavy and irregular. You help clean each other up and put your clothes back on, but you don’t head home until the sun has long set, feasting on the snacks and water he’d brought along.

You check the time before you go to bed that night. 00:57, Thursday 11th August 2022. Twenty days left with Sunghoon.

Eighteen days left with Sunghoon. Your last days together feel like a montage, like you’re watching a movie in which you play the lead role and you know the ending credits will have to start rolling at some point. You hate to be thinking that way, but the first thing you do when you wake up every morning is check the date and tell yourself how many days you’ve got left with your summer love. 19 days, 18 days. If Sunghoon feels a change in your attitude, how your gaze lingers more, how your touch softens, he doesn’t say anything.

You mentioned how you and Yunjin would like to go to the beach, so he called up his friends and got them to drive all the way over here. He said another time when you told him this is the perfect opportunity to show them his horse riding, and you didn’t push it.

He drives you all to what he calls ‘his’ beach spot, and indeed, it feels like it’s yours and yours only. It’s a bit of a trek getting there, having to walk up a dirt road and climbing some rocks before heading down to a small sandy beach where the sand is so hot it burns and the water only feels refreshing for two minutes, but you love it. He side-eyes Jake and Jay when you take off your dress and reveal your bikini-clad body, and barks at them to stop salivating even though they weren’t looking at you.

Yunjin on Heeseung’s shoulders, Jake on Jay’s and you on Sunghoon’s, the six of you play a tournament of who can make the others fall faster. Your boy has amazing balance, robust legs, a strong core, and decent (surprisingly impressive) arm muscles, so you win, a victory peck turning into a makeout session that everybody groans at, except for Jake who whoops.

You apply sunscreen on each other’s backs and complain that evening when you’ve got weirdly-shaped sunburns anyway, you along the lines of your swimsuit and him on the back of his knees. You eat the watermelon Jay brought and the boys spit black seeds at each other, not daring to do it to you or Yunjin after the stank look you gave them.

When you get home and everyone has driven off, neither of you is quite ready to call it a night yet. Sunghoon eyes the backseat of his car and you understand what he wants immediately. His skin smells like sun, sweat, sunscreen and sea water, and it’s all so him. It smells so good, it’s almost intoxicating, and you think you’ll never be able to get enough of his scent, of him. You won’t be able to look up at the bright star in the day sky or at an orange bottle of sticky sunscreen the same way ever again.

You’ve had many things in your life. You’ve had dolls, and you’ve had books and CDs. You’ve also had and still have friends, sometimes even boyfriends. You’ve had fun, and times that were not as fun. You’ve had sex. But you’ve not had anything like what you have with Sunghoon. He’s the one who gave you the intense feeling of truly loving and being loved, the insatiable craving of wanting more, the overwhelming need to see and talk to and feel and smell.

He’s the one who gave you the best summer of your life, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever had. It overpowers everything you’ve ever had to the point that it feels like it’s the first thing you’ve ever had; it might be the only thing you ever have, because you don’t understand how you could want anything else now that you’ve had him. He’s all you need.

Seventeen days left with Sunghoon. You’re having your joyful weekly dinner with your grandmother and the Parks when you feel something hit your foot gently. You feel it again, and when you look up at the boy sitting right across the table from you he’s trying to hide a small smile, but you know him too well to miss it. His clothed foot caresses the ridge of your own and you suppress a giggle at the ticklish feelings. You tease him back, and you realize you’re playing footsies at the ripe age of twenty years old, but it doesn’t bother you. You both end up failing at not laughing and when innocently, his mother asks, “what are you two laughing at?”, he coughs and says it’s an inside joke.

Fourteen days left with Sunghoon. The last two weeks of summer lessons have started again and Sunghoon and you can’t run around and lay in random fields at any time of the day anymore, but you still try your best to spend every waking second of the day together, to the despair of his fangirls. However, you still find moments where it’s the two of you in an empty stall and one exchanged look is enough for you to push him against the walls, your lips finding his in the fraction of a second. Sadly, before it can get too heated, a nearby horse always neighs or huffs as if telling you to get a room.

Twelve days left with Sunghoon. Conveniently, Sunghoon’s sister and their parents are out for the night at a party in celebration of the competition season that’s about to end, so you finally get to spend the night in his room. You technically could’ve done it before, but the house is old and the walls are thin, and you didn’t need that kind of humiliation.

Maybe Sunghoon feels that your time is slowly running to its end too, because as the days pass, he melts under your touch like a candle to a flame even more than before, he kisses your lips with more desperation and he holds your hips tighter as if you were going to disappear from between his hands at any moment. He always asks to please, please let’s cum at the same time and please, please say my name and you do it because you’d do anything for him.

You do it three times in a row, both of your bodies weak and sensitive with overstimulation yet unending desire, and you feel tears pouring down your cheeks as your third orgasm of the night hits you. There’s no way anything will ever feel as good as this. You tell him this, and he says, “I know.”

Seven days left with Sunghoon. He asks you what you’ll do when you go home, and you reply that you don’t know, because even though you’ve been thinking about what little time you have left together, you haven’t been thinking about the time after that, simply because it puts a bland feeling in your mouth whenever it crosses your mind. “I’ll start studying again and I’ll start my internship. I’ll get black out drunk at least once a month to forget all the stress and pressure of being a med student. I’ll think about you. That’s probably about it. What about you?”

“I’ll study too and I’ll have an assistantship at some point too. I’ll get drunk on Thursday nights and take care of the club during the weekends. I’ll think about you, too. More than you, I’m sure.”

“That’s not possible. You won’t ever leave my mind.”

“You won’t either,” he whispers.

Two days left with Sunghoon. He tells you you’re going camping for your last night together, not wanting to leave your side for even a second. “We’ve only got so much time left, we need to make the most of it,” he says, and you wished he knew that that had been your exact thought for the past twenty days.

That night, everything goes much slower than it usually does. You take your sweet time taking the clothes off of each other, reveling in discovering the smooth skin underneath the fabric as if you hadn’t seen it dozens of times by now. You find all of his moles and kiss them one by one, and he takes a full minute kissing down from your lips to your core. His thrusts are slow but deep, and your lips don’t leave the other’s the whole time.

Ten hours left with Sunghoon. You wake up the next morning when the sunlight the thin walls of the tent are unable to keep away gets too bright for your eyes’ liking. The warmth of this late August night has made you two drift apart while you slept, but you quickly find his body again and you wrap your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. He smells like sleep and like himself, which is comforting.

He calls out your name and you lift your head to look at him. When he doesn’t turn his head as well and only gives you his chin and jawline to look at, you know he’s about to say something important. Something he doesn’t dare to say while looking in your eyes.

Your mind goes back to all the times you’ve laid down next to each other and you hope that those will be what you see whenever you think of Sunghoon in the future. The sun not quite ready to call it a day, a slight breeze picking up, the hay a semi-comfortable mattress that sometimes poked you at the back of your neck and arms. Sunghoon right next to you. You were always happy then, hoping you wouldn’t regret anything later. You wouldn’t have known what to do to prevent that anyway.

All you know is you don't want your memory of Sunghoon to be tainted by this moment right now, this moment in which he avoids your gaze and your heart feels heavy because you’re leaving soon and you won’t get to have him in your embrace like this. You want to be happy when you think of him; you don’t want to feel his absence.

“Yeah?” you answer. He still doesn’t look at you, and you get a bit nervous.

He sighs a deep breath like you’ve never seen him do before. “Is it okay if I say something a bit selfish?”

You love him so much. You realize that maybe that’s what you’ll end up regretting. “Go ahead.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” he says, and you almost laugh out of relief.

“That’s not selfish, Hoon. I don’t want to leave, either.” You reach for his hand and he lets you take it, your fingers intertwining immediately as if made to hold each other. To hold onto each other. He still doesn’t look at you, and you know there’s something more there.

“It’s selfish because I’m scared I’ll resent you for leaving,” he says, voice a whisper.

Ah. There it is.

You squeeze his hand, wordlessly asking him to go on. He takes another breath, a shakier one this time, and he chuckles at the tears he feels pooling in his eyes. “You showed up here out of nowhere and you made me so, so happy. You listened to me and got me to open up, which I usually hate doing. You told me that I was good, that you were proud of me. And now you’re leaving and no one will tell me those things anymore.” The first crack in your heart happens when you hear his voice quiver at the end of his sentence.

“You don’t need me to tell you those things. You know them now, and you have yourself,” you try to reassure him.

The second crack happens when he finally turns to look at you, lips trembling and eyes full of tears. “But I want you to tell me those things.” It takes everything in you to not burst into tears, but you want to be strong for him. For the both of you.

“I can still tell you those things. Phones exist, you know.” A small smile appears on your lips as you try to alleviate the tension. Sunghoon’s eyebrows crease and he pouts his lips; you can tell he doesn’t want to laugh in this moment, but the nudge you give him and your smile make his facade break.

You laugh as he whines, telling you this is a serious moment and to not make him laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say between chuckles and you wrap your arms around him, bringing him to lay his head on your chest. You kiss the top of his head and graze your fingers through his hair. “Laughing is all I can do to stop myself from crying, baby,” you whisper. When you feel a tear roll down your cheek, you add, “And it’s not even working that well.”

Sunghoon buries his face deeper between your breasts and sobs. No more, no less, he sobs, loud, choked sobs that make his whole body shake against yours, and you hold him as tight as you can so that they don’t break him in two. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” he manages to say, and that’s when the third and final crack happens and your heart shatters. It breaks into a million tiny pieces that fall all over your body; some of them make their way to your throat while others travel to the tips of your fingers and others lodge themselves behind your knees or in the pits of your stomach. Your heart breaks into sharp pieces and you feel them piercing under your skin everywhere. You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

You and Sunghoon aren’t even technically dating. You’ve known each for two months. You live far, but not halfway across the world; you can see each other again. You will see each other again. It’s not supposed to hurt that much, yet it hurts even more than that.

“I know, baby, I know,” you whisper into his hair. “I’ll miss you so much too. But we’ll see each other again, right? Paris isn’t that far away.”

His sobs calm down and you hear him sniffle as he catches his breath. “Paris isn’t far away, but we’ll be worlds apart. You’re going to study and become a doctor, and I’ll stay here. You know what medical school is like, you’re going to be flooded with work for at least four more years. I can’t expect you to stay in touch all the time.”

“Well, it doesn’t need to be all the time, does it? I’d annoy you if it was.”

“You could never annoy me,” he says, and it makes you laugh. He’d never have said this two months ago.

“Plus, I’ll still get time off. I can come back next summer.”

He raises his head to look at you and you can see all the hope and sadness in his puffy eyes. You want to kiss away the tear stains on his cheeks. You want to right everything wrong just to see him smile again. “Next summer?” he echoes in a small voice.

“Next summer,” you promise, a smile you hope is comforting on your lips.

Next summer doesn’t work out. The one after that either. Your internship is going swimmingly, and so is his assistantship, and you simply don’t have the time to make a trip all the way down there. A part of you is also worried that if you see him again, you won’t have the force to leave.

Those years you don’t see him, you’re reminded of the ten days you were apart during that summer, and how you’d felt like he’d kept a small piece of your heart with him, because it still feels that way. There’s something that’s keeping you tethered to that summer, something that the strongest scissors or the sharpest knife in the world couldn’t break.

For a short period of time, he was all you needed. But reality quickly seeped back in, and now you needed good grades and then a good job, a decent flat, a decent income. You didn’t need anyone like you needed him, but you still wanted them because even if they weren’t as pretty, or as patient, or as kind as your Sunghoon, they were still good, and sometimes that was all you could ask for. You were always sorry that you couldn’t give them your whole heart, because a piece of it had stayed in the south of France and you didn’t have the courage to march down there and demand it back. Selfishly, you hoped you also kept a piece of Sunghoon’s heart in yours.

You did call once in a while, but those calls made both of you more sad than happy, and after a couple years the calls were so spaced out that they only happened on birthdays and special events. The next time you see him, it’s five years later, at your grandmother’s funeral. You can only stay for three nights and you spend most of your time there with relatives, celebrating your grandmother’s life, so you don’t see him much. When you do, you get to catch up for a few hours. He’s almost done with vet school and he’s specialized in equine studies. He’s an intern at the horse vet in Laroque which means he gets to stay in the center and help his parents out. Yeji is on her way to becoming one of the best in the country, he adds with a proud smile. You’re finishing up your last years as an intern in a Paris hospital, but you haven’t changed your mind about becoming a general practitioner, which you need just a few more years of experience for. You don’t miss how his face falls slightly when you tell him you have a boyfriend and that you’re thinking of getting engaged to him. He tells you he’s happy for you with the saddest eyes. The hug he gives you when you have to leave brings back so many feelings and memories, and even after all these years there’s nothing more that you want to do than stay in his arms and never move again.

You break up with your boyfriend as soon as you get home.

On a random Thursday, you’re done with your decade-long studies, and you’re free to go out into the world, a medical diploma in hand. You get a job in a cabinet owned by a friend of your parents, and you like the job, but you know you’re just passing the time until the opportunity you’ve been waiting for comes around.

Every week, you check whether a spot opens up for a general practitioner in the small town of Laroque-des-Albères. It doesn’t for about eighteen months, until suddenly it does, and in a week you’re packing your bags and taking that trip you took twelve years ago.

Sunghoon doesn’t even know. He could be married with a wife and three kids, for all you know, and it’s foolish but you hope he’s been waiting for you. He’s just finishing up a health check on some of the older horses when you get out of your car, eyes finding him immediately. From the other side of the courtyard, he smiles at you, and it’s like the summer you first fell in love all over again.

permanent taglist: @ozymandia-s @bbujiikseu @sd211 @lalalalawon @sunghoonmybeloved @w3bqrl

#sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon au #enhypen au #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction

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peacheeeliz · 2 months ago

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023. hey pretty (wc: 904)

blue = twitch chat

heartzfrombora: is the smp really coming to an end?

“As much as I'd love to say no, I honestly think it might,” Yuyu admits, frowning. “I think all of us have gotten really good progress on our empires, and with this whole beholder thing going on in the other empires, I think the end is inevitable.”

milfhos: BOOO 🍅🍅

strwchaos: NOOO 😭😭

“But this isn't the last you'll see of all of us together,” you continue for him. “We've talked to Yeonjun, and we all agree that another smp would be a lot of fun!”

You had ended your stream about an hour prior and instantly hopped on call with Yuyu to join him on his stream. It started off with the both of you playing various Roblox games, but now you had his stream pulled up, and you two were answering questions that chat has. They had all these questions about the Minecraft server: is it really ending soon, what's going to happen now that the ‘war’ is over, what the fuck even is a beholder, etc.

“Yeah, and we've still got a handful of sessions left for empires,” Yuyu beams. “So we're not done yet, don't worry.”

faepurity: what is going on between you two btw

Yuyu laughs nervously at that question, leaving a soft smile on your face. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he answers, and you hear the shuffle of him shaking his head. “There's nothing going on.”

“Sure, baby,” you tease, and he chokes on his words. You let out a light laugh, “whatever is going on between us is none of your guys’ business.”

heartzfrombora: borrrrriiiing

faepurity: just say you're dating and move on 😒😒

milfhos: no bcs what if they've been dating this whole time and went to war so we wouldn't know 🫢🫢

“Milf,” you pause, shaking your head. “Go to bed.”

milfhos: WHAT I COULD'VE BEEN RIGHT

Yuyu softly laughs at the interaction, continuing to watch you as you talk to his chat. Since the two of you weren't playing anything, he had just pulled up Discord for you to be on video for his stream. And although he says it's for chat, he knows it's just because he just wants to see you.

Your phone buzzes from its spot on your desk, indicating the food that you had ordered had been delivered. “Oh wait, my food just got here. I'll be right back, alright? Then you guys can get a once in a lifetime special mukbang,” you tease before leaving your chair. As soon as you leave your room, Yuyu’s chat blows up.

milfhos: ok be fr what's going on between you two

heartzfrombora: we won't tell her anything trust

gigigibaby: yea come on friends don't call each other “baby” and “pretty” what's going on

strwchaos: you two would be so cute together

Yuyu rolls his eyes, yet he lets out a soft chuckle. “I'm just going to tell you the same thing as Y/N; it's none of yours guys’ business. Sorry, not sorry.”

milfhos: awww 🥲🥲

“But, she does make me really happy,” he starts, staring at the outline of your door with a bashful smile. “I like talking to her, like a lot. It's crazy what six weeks can bring you, man.”

strwchaos: AWWWW

“Okay, okay, that's all you guys are getting,” he says, shaking his head again. “You guys are gonna clip that, and it'll be everywhere in an hour.”

gigigibaby: omg thanks for the idea 🩷

Before Yuyu can say anything else, your door opens back up. You walk back to your desk, dinner in hand, and a familiar roommate right behind you. Sungchan sends Yuyu a bright smile and an excited wave, pulling up a small chair to sit next to you.

“Sungie wanted to eat dinner with me, I hope that's alright,” you tell the boy behind the screen.

“Yeah, of course, don't worry,” he responds, saying ‘hi’ back to Sungchan. “You're always welcome to join us, so just come in whenever you want, man.”

“This is why I love you,” Sungchan says, hand over his heart. “And why Y/N lov-”

You smack the younger boy's thigh, a strained smile set on your lips. “Keep your mouth shut and you'll be able to stay.”

Yuyu smiles at the blush that rises to your ears, but his phone buzzes before he can tease her. “Great timing, looks like my dinner's here too.”

“Ooh, you go get it, and we can all eat together,” you suggest, stopping Sungchan from digging into his dinner. “We can wait.”

Yuyu smiles at this, “ok, sweet, I'll be right back then.” He stands up from his desk, placing his hand near his keyboard pad as leverage; which somehow turns his camera. Too focused on each other, Sungchan and you don't even notice it before it's too late.

Yuyu backs up from his desk, the movement on their screen catching the roommates’ attention. Unaware of the situation, the man's full body comes into the frame. “Fuck, Yuyu, your camera,” Sungchan exclaims, eyes widening.

Finally, he draws his eyes back to his computer, cursing before he rushes to turn everything off. Before you or Sungchan can say anything else, his stream is shut off, and the call goes dead. You sit there silently with the younger boy, too shocked to say anything.

“Was that fucking Yunho?” Sungchan questions, sending a concerned look your way.

synopsis ⤏ you're trying to peacefully build your starter house on the empires server when your neighbor so rudely (accidentally) kills you, starting the biggest war on the server just one day in.

prev / masterlist / next

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist is closed!

@davinashifts333 @potatos-on-clouds @s0shroe @staytinyluv @teenyfinds @weasleys-wizard-weasleys @borahae-reads @starryunho @dalsuwaha @oddin4ry @aerivrs @rosescarlettx @deptheuphoria

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smau #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop smau #kpop social media au #ateez social media au #yunho #yunho smau #yunho fanfic #yunho au #kpop fanfic

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taylormarieee · 5 months ago

Text

Sexy professor and sexy affairs Professor!Rick!Grimes no outbreak AU

Summary: You had a huge crush on your professor, as did every other female in the college auditorium in your class. What happens when your a little behind and decide to make a move-(not just to help your grade, but your lustful intentions as well).

Pairing: Professor!Rick!Grimes x fem!college!student!reader

Word Count: 2.7k (May be proofread, bare with me people)

Warnings: Lustful yearning, mentions of readers revealing clothing, Age gap (Rick- early 30s Reader- early 20s), female gossip, reader falling asleep in class, reader makes it up to Rick (IFYKYK)→ oral (M receiving), kissing, nothing much

A/N: This might be a series idk, i already have like four uncompleted series in the works and idk if I can take responsibility for another. If you guys do want a series I'll happily do one but for now this is just a little starter idea, ENJOY, MWAH💋

Rick Grimes, the best professor you could ever ask for. He was kind, determined, and made sure his students were well educated.

He loved seeing every single one of his student's answer questions and interact with the class( mainly just the females to get his attention). There were times after class he had to talk to the males and certain females about interacting more and engaging or else they're going to fail.

You on the other hand never had that problem. When you engaged, you passed with flying colors. You were at the top of all your classes and never missed a day or a lesson.

Professor Grimes was your American Literature teacher. He taught you study of writing and literature along with an introduction to different elements of writing. With his class you got to dabble in a lot of different elements to be able to get your degree in English.

Today was another day and his class was next. You were always excited when his class came along because you loved his(him) class.

You sat in your seat as normal, right next to your best friend, Candy Simmons. She was your ride or die, the person you could always call and she'll be there (and your mother as well).

"Candy, do you have everything? Sometimes you forget and you know how Professor Grimes gets when you rush out to get your books." You say to her with an eyebrow raised in concern.

Before Candy can even respond Rick is already starting class. "Alright guys, let's get to it. Today we're going to be reading Romeo and Juliet. Now has anyone read this book before today?" He asks looking around the class.

Only two people have raised their hands. "Ok, so you guys have two options. You can read with us and break the book down and discuss or you can go and start your homework on any classes your behind on." He says, addressing the two students.

One student raises his hand to speak, "uhm professor grimes? I'd like to read the book again, I'm not behind in my classes. Can I stay?" Rick nods his head at the boy and then turns his attention to the other student.

"I would like to go complete some assignments please professor? Is that ok?" the female student asks. He nods his head again and that student silently packs up and makes her way to the door.

"Thank you professor." she says, smiling at him. He smiles back and then turns back to the class. "Alright let's begin. Everyone in the very top row come get your books. Remember the numbers on your books because these will be your books." He says.

Your row finally get's to get their books and as you're waiting, you make eye contact with Rick. He didn't have a wedding ring on his hand but he used to.

You know he has a kid because he used to have to leave early to pick him up from school if he was sick. You never knew what happened to his wife but one day he just started showing up without his wedding ring on.

You were so zoned out you didn't even notice that it was almost your turn to grab a book. Once you stepped up he spoke.

"Hey, are you ok? you seemed a little zoned out there. Just wanna make sure your ok." He asks kindly with a concerned look on his face.

His southern drawl went straight to your cunt. Your little bud pulsating at the way he said your name.

"i-i'm ok Professor. When we're done can I by any chance stay after class to talk to you?" you reply nervously. 'why are you so nervous, get it together' you thought.

His face immediately softened and turned into one of care and kindness, no longer concerned. "Of course you can." he replies with a smile.

You smile back and say "thank you professor." before walking back to Candy.

"Girll, he could not take his eyes off you! I told you it was a good idea to wear that sexy ass outfit." Candy whisper-yells giggling.

"Oh stop it Candy. He was just concerned about me cause I was zoned out in the line." you say rolling your eye's at her before looking at your books number. You had the number 17.

You looked at candy, she had 18. You open the page to the table of contents and flip a little more until you reach the first chapter.

"Alright guys so were going to begin reading..."

"Wake uppp!" Candy says, shaking your whole body. You flinch as you wake up noticing half if not all the students are gone leaving you, Candy, and Professor Grimes.

'Ohhhh no! Did I sleep through his class?' you thought. You face palm and groan immediately mumbling out curses and apologies.

"Shit shit shit! Professor I'm so sorry, I've never slept through you class before! I went to bed early so I don't know how I could have fallen asleep. I even drank coffee this morning to make sure I stayed-" you rambled before he cut you off.

"It's ok. You are welcome to stay after class and read with me along with the thing you said you needed to stay later for anyway." He says with a charming tight-lipped smile on his face.

You feel heat rush up to your cheeks and smile. "Ok Professor, thank you so much!" you say walking down with Candy towards his desk.

"Candy I see you later ok? I'll meet you back at the dorm." You say with a smile.

"No wait, I won't be at the dorm remember, I have volleyball practice remember? So I won't be at the dorm till like 7 or 8pm? Depends on how long coach will makes us train for." Candy responds.

"Oh ok so then. i'll stay here a little later., maybe meet you in the gym or something. Walk back with you?" you ask.

"Yea, that's cool, later! Bye professor." she bids her goodbye's with a smile and walks away.

"Later Ms. Simmons." He replies with a smile. He then turns to you and smiles. "Alright, let's get started shall we? What do you wanna work on first?" he asks, that southern drawl getting ahold of your mind.

It's as if your body can't control itself and your thighs press together giving you that pleasant feeling.

"Uh, maybe we can start on my essay that I am having trouble with before we start on the story if that's ok?" You asks.

'Hey, this is your time, take over and lead the way." He says with a smile scooting closer to his desk.

"Ok, thanks professor." You says with a smile. You wonder if he usually lets women take control in bed. You reach across his desk to grab a pencil and your arms kind of squish your boobs together making your boobs more visible than before in your v-neck tank top.

Your eyes flicker to him and you see him glancing at your chest. You sit back down and he clears his throat.

You smirk and reach for your bag to pull out your laptop but before you could get it Rick speaks. "Hey, how about you sit next to me so we can work on it together, so it's not a struggle for you to have to find space for your laptop." He suggests scooting over.

You smile and get up moving your chair towards his chair. He gets up and closes his door. you could have sworn you hear the lock click but maybe it was the sleepiness getting to you.

You bend over at the right time to get your laptop out of your bag and your mini skirt rides up your plush thighs a little revealing your ass cheeks and a bit of your pretty pussy covered in pink underwear.

Rick's breath hitched as he gets a look of your ass. He silently curses himself for looking at you that way but how can he be mad at himself when he knows your doing this on purpose.

But if he knows of your antics, why are they working on him so well? Maybe it's because he's fantasized about you for so long. Maybe it's because he'll take breaks in the bathroom to jerk off to the smell of you, to the new revealing outfit your wearing.

He shakes his thoughts away and sits back down when you sit back down.

"Ok, so what I didn't understand exactly was the concept of Chapter 5. The book you gave us weeks ago was great, I loved it, but chapter 5 has too many things going on and I don't exactly know which concept you want me to focus on." You explain to him.

"Well, it's not really about what I want you to focus on exactly it more about how you feel about the certain concepts. Every single person in this class has had a different perspective on this specific chapter." He says. You look at him with doe eyes as he explains and he can feel his cock straining through his pants.

He grunts and continues what he was saying. "A-As I was saying, What I want y-you to do is just focus on your feelings on the concepts. You can choose a event that happened that really stood out to you and write your opinion on it. I'll be happy with that." He finishes gulping as he looks at your laptop again before glancing back at you.

"mhm, Ok! Thank you professor. Now I'll finish this when I get to my dorm, so now on to Romeo and Juliet. I've heard about this book and it's been on my to read list but I never got around to it." you say.

"Well, you would have loved the first few chapters if you didn't fall asleep." He says with a chuckle. You smile at him and he smiles back.

"I'm terribly sorry for that, how could I possibly make it up to you professor?" You ask batting your eyelashes at him with hooded eyes.

He gulps and looks at you before rubbing his hands on his jeans. He's 100% sure if you took one look down you'll be able to see how hard he is.

He knows what you are implying but he couldn't possibly do it. Your his student. But I mean, your an adult, your old enough to make your own decisions and so is he.

"I told you, it's fine. It's nothing really. Y-You were responsible enough to stay after class and make it up so theres nothing more you can do." He says running a hand through his curls.

You always though his curls were so pretty. They were the perfect shade of brown and they really brought out the blue in his eyes. His stubble was so sexy and made look so wise and so hot you wondered how it would feel on the inside of your plush thighs.

"Oh but professor Grimes, I feel like there is something else I can do. You seem to have a problem and I feel like it was by my doing." You say biting your lip.

'Shit, she knows' Rick thinks. His eyes widen at your words and he bites his lip. He shifts in his seat and groans when the friction from his jeans rub his cock just right.

"Oh come on professor. I know what you want. No one has to know, and I swear on that." You say fiddling with his pants zipper. His head drops towards your hand and he grabs it.

"I-I can't. It's bad enough that I'm hard right now. W-We have to focus on your wor-" His sentence is cut off by the feeling of your hand palming his cock.

While he was talking your hand was making moves and ended up in his boxers. The feeling of your warm, soft hand stroking his cock felt amazing.

The pleasure that is coursing through Rick's veins is immaculate. Your strokes are slow and rough. Everything he needs to cum in your hand right now.

You slide from your chair to your knees. You tap Rick's leg and he lifts his hips so you can pull down his pants and his boxers revealing his pretty leaking cock.

You lick his slit and his cock jumps. You look up at Rick when you take his entire lenghth in your mouth wasting no time at getting a taste of him.

"See, I knew you wanted this. I knew you wanted me just as badly as I want you." You say with a smirk on your face before spitting on Ricks cock and taking it right back down your throat.

Your gaging on his cock and the contractions and vibrations from your moans and throat are sending multiple waves of pleasure to Ricks cock that has his head spinning and eyes rolling back.

By the way his cock is twitching you can tell he's about to come. His hand comes down to massage at your breasts taking in all your glory of your face glistening with saliva and your boobs spilling out of your v-neck. ( this is the top I imagine reader wearing)

You moan around his cock again, jerking off whatever can't fit in your mouth. So lost in the moment your only now realizing how big and pretty Rick's cock his. Nicely trimmed pubic hair, pretty pink tip leaking and oozing with precum.

"Oh shit princess. Gonna -fuck- cum down this pretty throat of yours, hmm? Want your professor to cum down your throat baby?"

You shake your head yes as you gag on his cock some more, your eyes rolling back and your clit throbbing at his dirty words.

He was so well put together but what you didn't know was how much of a slut Professor Grimes was. " Oh fuck I'm gonna cum i'm cumming baby, fuck!" He crys out.

His hands find the back of your head and he lets out the sluttiest moan before letting out a string of curses as he cums down your throat.

"Shit shit shit, right there baby, doing soo good for me." he says. His eyes roll back as he moans out.

Releasing his hot, stick, thick load down your throat and you swallow every bit of it. You suck on his tip overstimulating him and he tries to pull your head off him whimpering and whining at the feeling.

You kiss his tip and finally let up and smile at him sticking your toungue out for him to see you swallowed everything he gave you.

"Oh fuck. Ohhh shit that felt amazing." He says chuckling. He gets up and grabs your hand to help you off your knees.

"Gotta hand it to you," He says as he watches you fix your shirt and hair while he fixes his pants. "I loved seeing you on your knees." he says with a chuckle.

You bite your lip at the compliment and smile at him. "And I gotta hand it to you Professor," You say seductively walking closer to him. "You taste really good." you say with a smirk on your face.

You walk around him and grab all your stuff packing it away. Once you have your bag on your back and the book in your hand you walk up to Rick.

"I'll see you tomorrow professor grimes." You say seductively and kiss him passionately on the lips.

You grab his neck and moan into his mouth allowing his tongue to slip in your mouth.

You pull away from the breathtaking kiss and the last thing connecting you two is a string of saliva.

"I'll be sure to stay after class again, this was fun and thank you sooo much for the extra help Professor." You say with a wink opening the door and leaving.

You smile to yourself walking down the hall and leave him there astonished.

Oh yea, he for sure need more of you and that pretty mouth. If Rick wasn't excited for tomorrow already, this moment just made him 10x more excited to see you again.

Maybe next time he'll get a taste of that pussy he's been fantasizing about.

Taglist: @dustbunniess @dollyfl1rt @rickswh0r3 @sinsandsweetness @justjasminne @itzdarling @versatilehater @aerangi @2svnder @keiva1000 @prettyluhdavis @hutchersonsgurl @grimesuniversexx @liliesdiary @writella

#my man <3 #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead #rick grimes fanfiction #professor rick gries AU #no outbreak au #rick grimes the walking dead

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miyamoratsumuu · 4 months ago

Note

ok round TEW!!! i am now commencing self destruct by sending in cardigan by taylor swift, with tdrk sho the pookie wookie dookie loml beloved. (behind the screen i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure, clawing at the walls, sliding down the door and jumping out the window while wailing sobbing and crying)(break time before requesting b4 prolly 1 more tmr!! sorey if its a lot 😞😞 dont write too much ok make sure u eat drink sleep nd everything)

CARDIGAN

cardigan by Taylor Swift, acapella ver., ft. Shoto Todoroki

⋆ you knew him. and after every moment you shared, you realize you don't know him anymore.

⋆ todoroki shoto x reader ⋆ written in 2nd pov, wc: 1.6k ⋆ this request is from the 400 followers event!! mha masterlist ⋆ other notes: I finished writing this only to realize there's no dialogue at all I'm so sorry 😭 and and!! unlike my other shoto work, y/n gets a happy ending<3 (atleast i think it's a happy ending)

⋆ cw: implied cheating

the warmth that enveloped you when you put on your newly ironed uniform didn’t feel so bad on your walk toward UA high. cellphone in hand, the hustle and bustle of what you assumed was your assigned class for this year, welcomed you as soon as you stepped through the classroom door. first days always become such a blur as the school year passed by. yours wasn’t going to be any different, until you locked eyes with the boy that kept to himself at the back of the room.

everyone else was introducing themselves to one another, in hopes of making themselves known even before formal introductions of the class began. except for two. the one up front of the class seemed off limits right from first glance. now that you look back at the memory, the second guy that was seated at the back looked off limits too. if he wasn’t, he would’ve been mingling with your other classmates already. thinking of it now, maybe you shouldn’t have approached todoroki shoto. but you did. the excitement of the new highschool life filled your senses, and your first year self was blinded by it.

you assumed your first interaction with the man would’ve been one of those cute meet cutes in any rom-com. the upbeat girl introduces herself to the stoic straight faced guy, they become acquaintances, he slowly lets down his guard for her, and they fall in love! the moment you finished telling him your name though, you began to think otherwise. he was looking at you, sure. but it didn’t seem like he was going to let loose anytime soon. your idea of a cute rom-com moment slowly faded away. just slowly though, good thing you had patience.

you knew who shoto was. you knew how he refused to use the other half of his quirk in refusal to represent his father. you knew how he didn’t come to ua to “make friends”. you knew what he aimed to be as a hero in training, but it’s been months since you made yourself acquainted with that version of him. and huge changes could happen in the span of a few months. the joy of your time together at ua overcame shoto without him realizing it. you could thank midoriya for being a huge part of that.

you didn’t know when it started, but the glances shoto sent your way that lingered more than they should, the subtle touches whenever you were in the common room together, and the gentle smiles he wore only for you to see became more and more evident. you didn’t mind, why would you? highschool wouldn’t be the most fulfilling experience without the rush of a new love. and the suggestion of shoto reciprocating that feeling was something you wouldn’t trade for the world. it’s dangerous to assume, but it wouldn’t be completely unlawful.

your assumptions were only proven true when after pouring your heart out to shoto, he didn’t make a move to turn you down. instead, you felt a hand on yours as it was carefully brought up to meet his lips. the kiss he placed on each of your knuckles was gentle, and he cradled your hand as if it was glass. and as if he was scared to break you. that would be his worst nightmare, to be the one that broke you. it was an unspoken promise, but he swore to be the one to love you as best he could, to leave a mark on you emotionally, proof of his undying care for you.

“to be seen and understood is to be loved” was what your relationship with shoto felt like. with a handful, if not all your classmates being so powerful, smart, and charismatic, it didn’t take a genius to see that the ones that didn’t aim to be on top would be pushed aside. you were one of the latter. though the longer you were acquainted with shoto, the quicker the shadows that covered you faded away. to you, it felt like a miracle. a blessing, to be seen by the son of the most powerful in japan. but to shoto, it felt like the easiest thing he’s ever done in his life. to him, loving you felt like losing a piece of clothing only to find it and treasure it more than he ever did. it was like he found his favorite cardigan that’s been missing for months right under his bed.

it would be a lie if you said shoto wasn’t the best love you’ve ever had and could ever have. most would grow sceptical of you, seeing as you were only in your second year of highschool and you were already proclaiming things about being with the one love of your life. you were too young to be that in love, as they would say. your relationship wasn’t completely out there, but those who would ask about what the two of you were, would get an honest answer. you were proud of telling them that shoto todoroki was your lover, and you were his. he claimed to feel the same, and you knew he was genuine.

and you were right. you only knew, but you sure as hell didn’t know who shoto was now. the sound of laughter and excitement resounded around the common room of class 3-A’s dorms in anticipation of welcoming the new year. the same year that would be your last with the group of people you grew with as a person, and the people you grew to love more than anything. well, maybe not anything. or anyone. you turned down mina’s offer to join them outside to watch the fireworks the school would set off, instead choosing to search for the one person you haven’t seen yet all night. quickly understanding, the pink haired girl gave you a “goodluck!” before turning around and catching up to kirishima.

not being able to spot shoto in the whole first floor only meant he was in his own dorm. the elevator trip seemed to take ages as you made your way to the fifth floor. as soon as the doors opened, you immediately stepped outside and made a beeline to your boyfriend’s dorm. you raised a fist to knock on the door when you noticed it was already opened. worry and curiosity both overcame you at the same time. it wasn’t like him to leave his door unlocked and even slightly opened like this, after all. you gently pushed it open just enough to poke your head inside. and like they all say, curiosity killed the cat.

the room was dark, except for the moonlight that shined through the open balcony doors. the curtains were cast aside, giving you just the perfect view of the two figures that stood on the balcony. you were so focused on not seeing shoto in the common room, that you didn’t realize yaoyorozu was nowhere to be found too. nevermind that, you found her now. both of them, actually. yaoyorozu had her back leaning against the balcony’s railings, her eyes downcasted. shoto was the complete opposite. he was standing right beside her, and if you didn’t know any better, it looked like his eyes were glued onto her.

‘it’s dangerous to assume, but it wouldn’t be completely unlawful.’ before you could even make assumptions, any thought that wanted to deny that whatever was happening between them wasn’t what you think it could be was cast away. you could feel your chest being held in a vice grip when shoto placed a gentle hand under her chin and had her meet his eyes. not realizing it, you held your breath when shoto slowly inched his face closer to yaoyorozu’s, all the while she didn’t show a sign of resisting what she knew was about to happen. the final blow struck when their lips finally met right when the fireworks were set off in the night sky.

what could’ve gone wrong? just a few months ago, you couldn't be more thankful for the clouds that covered the moon’s light, simultaneously hiding the way you couldn’t take your eyes off of the man in front of you. you were seated beside shoto on the bed in his dorm, the quiet atmosphere of the night surrounding the two of you. his mindless doodling on your scarred arm using his finger didn’t seem so mindless when you could feel that what he was drawing were stars. stars that highlighted your hard work, the years of training you went through together, and the lives you saved, leading you to earn those scars.

as shoto continued to draw stars around your scars, you promised to kiss his in turn. the only difference now was that the feeling of gentle kisses lingered on his scars, while yours held stars that felt like they were etched on with a knife. kisses healed shoto's scars while yours were left to bleed for as long as they did. as much as either of you tried to change your ending, only one of you could receive the happily ever after.

now, he was kneeling in front of you, the only source of light that proved it was shoto in front of you, was your front porch light. he looked exhausted, and the look he gave you was a silent plea for you to let him in like you always did before. you always claimed that letting him in was the best decision you have ever made. nevermind that. your best decision was to let the only pro hero that stood above him in the charts, your husband, shut the door right in shoto’s face. but not before making sure that he saw the way katsuki held your hand, the same way he used to hold yours. only this time, the promise of not being the one to hurt you was held strong and never to be broken. the boy seated in front of the class that looked “off limits” wasn't so bad after all.

a/n: I feel like pacing is literally non-existent in this and that the storyline is so messy but ANYWAY we don't mind that :D ALSO IK YOU HAD A KITA REQUEST BEFORE THIS SAKU I'LL GET TO IT SOON PROMISE!! I'm ashamed of myself bc I literally sort of maybe forgot how kita's character was like exactly so I wanna rewatch season 4 before I do the suna, kita, and atsumu requests 🙏🏻🙏🏻 TYSM FOR REQUESTING MY POOKIE I HOPE THIS IS ALRIGHT!!

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rems-writing · 4 months ago

Text

Not all fratboys are brainless

Pairing: frat boy!Yeosang × tutor gn!reader

Summary: Yeosang proves you wrong. Will he succeed?

Warning(s): lots of prejudice, Yeosang cries (Wooyoung would absolutely murder the reader if he could), the reader softens up, slight bullying

Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending

Nets: @blossomnet @mirohs-aurora-society @illusionnet

"Professor Kim, can I talk to you about my grade?" Yeosang asked his music theory professor. Hongjoong looked up at him and gave a small smile to the younger boy.

"Of course. But your grade is relatively good so far."

"I'm aware but I feel like I can do better you know. Music theory is hard and I want to excel in this class. I've tried studying the chords on piano and even tried looking for songs that I can listen to so I can identify the chords but so far, I've only been able to pinpoint what scale the song starts on."

Hongjoong listened carefully to Yeosang's explanation and nodded slowly as he thought of something.

"I could get you a tutor to help you get a better grip on the chords. They are an excellent student and is probably the topmost student in all of my music theory classes. They're currently studying for an exam in my level two advanced theory class but I'm sure they can help you out with something as simple as chord recognition."

"Thank you so much, professor!" Yeosang exclaimed gratefully and Hongjoong's heart swelled in adoration upon seeing his smile. As he watched his student gather his things and exit the classroom, he whipped out his phone and texted you.

Hongjoong sighed shakily as he sent her a heart as his message.

Joongie: Your prayers have been answered. You get to tutor a music theory student.

You: HELL YEAH, BOIIII! Which level are they at rn?

Joongie: Music Theory I

You: Easy peasy! What's their grade if I may ask? I know this class is hard >-<

Joongie: It's fairly decent but he feels he can do better.

You: Oof. Ik the feeling lol what does he need help with specifically?

Joongie: Chord recognition

You: Ahh! Ok got it. I can start tomorrow.

Joongie: Sounds good to me. Oh and Y/N? Please be nice...

You: Oh don't sweat it, Joongie! I got you

Yeosang had no idea what was in store for him......

---------------------------------------------------

Whatever excitement you felt the next day was flown out the window when you saw him. Your professor could've chosen anyone. But him? You only had three rules.

Never let anyone dictate your life.

Never give up no matter what

Never interact with frat boys or girls from sororities!

As you saw him set up his things, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. You thought of ways you could weasel your way out of this but Hongjoong would know immediately since you never weasel your way out of anything.

It's either you accept or deny. And you accepted.

With a heavy heart, you walked in, annoyance evident on your face. Yeosang was oblivious to it though. As soon as he saw you, his face lit up with excitement.

"Hi! You must be Y/N! I'm Kang -"

"Yeah yeah. Kang Yeosang. Yeah hi nice to meet you. Come on. Let's get this over with. I got an exam to study for."

The smile on Yeosang's face disappeared as you slammed your things on the table and opened up your music theory I textbook.

Throughout the entire study session, you did somewhat help him, but he didn't appreciate the fact that he was treated as if he were the dumbest person on the planet. You spoke purposefully slow, talked to him as if he were a child, and scolded him over useless shit. However, Yeosang remained patient.

After all, he knew of your intense hatred towards frat boys.

After the two hours were up, you didn't even bid him goodbye. You simply told him when the next session was and left immediately.

What did he do wrong...?

---------------------------------------------------

The rest of the study sessions persisted with the same old thing. You come in, treat him poorly, get angry when he messed up, and then leave as soon as the session was over. There were even times where you didn't even show up, claiming that you were busy. Maybe it was true most of the time, but there were times where it was complete and utter bullshit. Yeosang tried so hard to be patient with you, but even the kindest frat boy had his limits.

In the times that you didn't show up, he was studying on his own. His memorization may have been weak, but he was determined to get you to see beyond the boyish charms and stereotypes you had around him.

Today was another study session. Yeosang stood proud and tall as you walked in, grumpy as usual. You set your things down and looked at him.

"Come on. Let's get this over with." You sighed heavily and Yeosang shook his head.

"Quiz me."

"Um... come again?"

"You heard me. Quiz me!"

You sighed and nodded before taking your mini piano out of your bag and setting it down on top of the table. You turned it on and configured it so it was loud enough for him to hear yet quiet enough so you guys weren't kicked out of the library. You positioned your hands in the right playing position and looked up at him with a bored expression.

"Ok. Let's do it."

Yeosang was determined.

The first chord was played.

"That is a C Major triad."

The second chord was played.

"That's an e minor triad."

The third chord was played."

"That's an A Major traid."

The fourth chord was played.

"That's a first inversion g minor triad."

The fifth chord was played.

"That's a second inversion F Major triad."

Throughout the entire time, Yeosang was getting every single chord right. Deep down, you were thoroughly impressed with his knowledge and the way he recognized the chords immediately. As the final chord was played, Yeosang gave the correct answer. You lifted your hands from the piano and stood up before him.

"I have to say. I'm impressed. You certainly have studied your ass off."

Yeosang felt a sense of relief and accomplishment wash over him. However, that feeling went away when you said something ludicrous.

"Wait never mind. You're a frat boy. You probably cheated."

Yeosang was looking for any sign that you were joking. There wasn't. You just stood there with your arms crossed as you looked him up and down.

"You can admit it. It's fine. I can't necessarily say I'm surprised though since all you care about is partying, sleeping with every girl on campus, and -"

"How could you?"

You grew confused as you saw the raw emotion on Yeosang's face. His eyes were swimming in unshed tears, his fists were clenched, and his body was shaking a bit. You dropped your arms to the side as he scoffed harshly.

"For weeks, I have been studying and quizzing myself, pulling all nighters, and even isolated myself from my friends so I could impress you and change your views on me. It looks like I failed... and I'm sorry for failing you. I'm also sorry for wasting your time."

With that, he gathered his things and ran out of the library while you stood there, confusion being replaced with shock and guilt. You felt your chest tighten upon imagining him crying as he ran back to his dorm.

Why does seeing an angel cry feel like the biggest sin?

---------------------------------------------------

The next few weeks have been awkward to say the least. You were in Professor Kim's class, trying so hard to concentrate on his lectures, yet your mind was somewhere else. Ever since that day in the library, you've had occasional nightmares pop up in your head. It was of the same thing: you accuse him of cheating and you stand with an inflated ego while he runs out crying. You thought you were being a hero.

You were actually the villain. And you accepted that fact.

After class ended, you stayed behind so you could talk to Hongjoong. When the room was nearly empty, you approached him slowly.

"Um...professor?"

"Oh? On that professional status I see." Hongjoong joked with you but when he saw the worn out look on your face, he grew concerned. He pointed to the chair in front of him and you sat down.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I think... I think I fucked up."

"You haven't even taken the exam yet -"

"I made my student cry."

Hongjoong was silent as you looked at him with your own eyes swimming in unshed tears. He gently took your hands in his and prompted you to look at him.

"What did you do?"

Despite the gentle tone in his voice, you could tell he was disappointed in you. He explicitly told you to be nice and you went against that.

"I accused Yeosang of cheating when I quizzed him and he got all the answers right."

Hongjoong dropped your hands and rubbed his face out of agitation.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"It was an accident! I let it slip out -"

"Yeosang is one of the kindest and most intelligent students out there. Your hatred towards frat boys needs to cease."

"Yes I understand that -"

"Do you?"

You flinched when he said that through gritted teeth. You hung your head in shame as he kept talking.

"To have you, my best student, accuse him of cheating... that's low. So fucking low."

"Hongjoong, I know -"

"You need to apologize to him."

"I am aware of that but -"

"But what? Hmm? Don't give me any excuse whatsoever. I know you're studying your ass off for my exam, your parents are out of town, and you don't have any pets or plants to take care of. So tell me. What's stopping you from apologizing to him?"

"I'm afraid!"

You hung your head in shame once more and let all the tears out.

"I'm afraid that he'll just spew so much hatred towards me. Not saying that I don't deserve it, but having someone like him be angry towards me feels like I'm going through hell. I saw his face that day. And I even have nightmares about it! Trust me. You think you're disappointed in me? Well the feeling is mutual in a sense."

Hongjoong listened to you despite feeling anger towards you.

"I already faced my punishment. Yunho stuffed fake spiders in my locker so my arachnophobia was triggered, Mingi towered over me and trashed all my papers for my other classes, San shoved me to the ground which explains my scraped knees, and Wooyoung... oh God."

Hongjoong had to hold you to stop yourself from shaking. His anger was slowly fading as you recounted everything that happened to you and felt his chest tighten when you just took it in stride rather than stand up for yourself.

"He was vile. He cussed me out, pulled my hair, and told me that maybe frat boys can be brainless, but they're not heartless monsters such as myself."

"Oh, Y/N..."

"He's right. He's definitely right. But it still hurts. And you want to know the worst part?"

"What is it?"

You drew in a shaky breath and exhaled before speaking.

"Yeosang was a witness to it all... and he still made sure they didn't do anything else drastic."

You started crying and Hongjoong held you close.

"I tried thanking him and even worked up an apology, but he held a hand up towards me and stared at me dead in the eyes before walking away."

Hongjoong held your face and wiped your tears away.

"What did I tell you? I told you he was the kindest person I've ever met."

"I know, Joongie... I know. I feel awful."

"I think... you should try again. If his friends try to stop you, stand your ground and make sure you keep on insisting until you are able to see Yeosang."

"What if he doesn't want to see me?"

"Trust me. If he was able to get his friends to back off of you, then he'd be willing to listen to your apology. Whether he accepts it or not, that's up to him. But just know that your apology is genuine and that you truly feel remorseful for your words."

You nodded as you listened to him and absorbed his words. Hugging him one last time, you gathered your things and sprinted out the classroom.

"Tell Seonghwa I said hi!"

Hongjoong chuckled lightly at your mention of his husband and looked down at his wedding ring.

"I hope Yeosang forgives them..."

---------------------------------------------------

You cringed at the way the ATZ frat house was littered with red solo cups, streamers, and random piles of puke. You almost fled the scene when a drunk guy landed on top of you and tried to hit on you yet you persevered. You finally spot the five guys and mentally gave yourself a pep talk before approaching them.

"Oh look! Here comes the witch!"

Wooyoung hissed at you and everyone cackled. Yeosang simply crossed his arms and stared at you. You winced at the insult.

Yeah you deserved that.

You composed yourself and tried so hard not to blow up on Wooyoung. You didn't need anymore bad blood with him or anyone else for that matter. You sighed shakily and stared right back at Yeosang.

"Yeosang, I'm aware that you don't want to talk to me and it's clear that your friends want me to go away as soon as I set foot in this place. However, I will only say this and then leave."

You looked up at the ceiling momentarily to blink away the tears that were about to spill from your eyes. You then looked back down at the boy who looked angelic even under the dimmest of lighting.

"I am so utterly fucking sorry for accusing you of cheating. It was wrong of me to do that. I never should've done that. Instead, I should've been proud of you for recognizing those chords right away. Music theory is a hard class and I admire your ambition to strive in being the best. I heard you passed one of your chapter exams and I just want to say congratulations. In addition, I also want to apologize for being so rude and brash with you from day one up until now. It's my own fault and I have already faced the consequences of my actions. If you're able to forgive me, I would be so happy! However, if you decide to join your friends in making me miserable... well that's fine. I deserve it after all."

You sniffled and looked at his friends momentarily since they were watching the exchange.

"I'll leave now. Um... enjoy your party on this fine Friday night. I'll probably head to the arcade to calm down. Yeah ok bye."

You scurried off before Yeosang had the chance to say anything, afraid he'll be worse than his friends.

Yeosang wished you stayed.

---------------------------------------------------

You went through every single game in the arcade, ate some takoyaki, and decompressed at the bar. You sipped on your moscow mule and sighed to yourself as you whipped out your phone to scroll through any memes your friends sent you.

"Excuse me? Is this seat taken?"

You whipped your head up to see Yeosang looking down at you with big curious brown eyes. You shook your head and Yeosang had a small grin on his face before sitting down next to you and ordering a glass of water.

"I could only chug so much beer in my life."

You giggled lightly at his response as you sipped on your drink some more.

"By the way, I forgive you."

Your eyes widened and your heart fluttered when he pulled you in for a hug. He was slightly taller than you so you felt his chin rest on your head.

"I was mad and debated on not forgiving you, but the moment that you congratulated me on passing my exam, it all washed away. I told my friends that I forgave you and being the simps they are, they send their apologies to you for doing all of that, especially Wooyoung."

"It's ok. I deserve it."

Yeosang pouted and shook his head before patting your own.

"Mind if I spend the rest of the night with you? I dig this arcade actually."

"Sure. I don't mind. But first."

You stuck out your hand.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. Pleased to meet you."

Yeosang took your hand in his and shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Y/N! I'm Kang Yeosang."

#blossomnet #mirohsaurorasociety #illusionnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader

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npdzane · 1 month ago

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Hiiiii, could you explain you npd Zane hc to me? As someone who lives with a narcissist, I’m very interested.

IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT!!!!!! FOR SO LONG!!!!!!

Tw I think bc ik i will be mentioning sh. But only for a sentence or two.

Mostly just "he's just like me fr". I get how it can sound confusing, especially as a lot of people tend to see Zane as the opposite of what a (stereotypical) narcissist would act like, so I'll try to explain in a way that makes sense.

I'm going to list off traits I see in him, and then what caused it and how it developed over time. Starting with the traits.

- Pixal is 100% his fp. I don't think there's anything to say about it that hasn't been said already. You don't just give a girl half your heart because you "like her a little" without having some issues.

- "Be envious of others/believe others are envious of them". He stated himself that he envied Kai. He also has moments where he does things that make him look better than others ("I personally find old video games to be unchallenging", something about his tone when he was saying "being a nindroid, I wont be able to be digested.", he also just does a lot of random flips and shit when its not needed?? That part may be a stretch though.).

- "Withdrawal from situations where they may fail." In Quest for the Lost Powers, he almost quits out of fear that he won't be able to face the Ice Emperor without breaking down. He also tends to tell someone they shouldn't do something because the chance of failing is too high.

- "Feeling depressed or moody over not reaching perfection/secretly feeling insecure, shameful, and humiliation and fearing being exposed as a failure" In s4, he panics over feeling like he'll always be just a replica of the original Zane. He's desperately begging Pixal to save him from said panic too (which fits into the last trait). He still has similar fears to this day, feeling like being seen as just a robot takes away from his original design. Meaning he failed at fitting in, which was always his goal.

- "Have trouble interacting with others and easily feel sighted" in the entirety of S1-3, he struggles HEAVILY to talk to the others. Granted this does get better throughout the series, but it's getting bad again it seems. He often goes on solo missions or stays in the monastery/Destiny's Bounty. I personally think it's because he feels the others don't see him as vital to the team as they should, or he believes he doesn't need help with anything from anyone (but Pixal). The point is there is some sense of "they don't appreciate me enough".

- "React with rage or contempt to try to belittle others to make them appear superior". Again, bringing back the "I find older video games to be non challenging" quote. As well as the fact that every time Pixal is obviously very annoyed by him, he ignores her and carries on with what he thinks is the right idea (Detective/Pirate Zane obviously was a bad idea, but noooo Zane can't be wrong ever). He doesn't react with rage as much (at least not openly), however he does ignore people when he's doubted.

Ok! That's not as much as I thought! A few other things I wanted to point out, although these are also headcanons:

- His self esteem is TERRIBLE.

- What he believes he doesn't make up for in battle, training, etc, he tries to make up for in smarts and hobbies to impress people.

- He bases his opinions on people based on assumptions. For example, he'll assume everything about a person's personality and hobbies (sometimes even their skill level at those hobbies) based on first impressions. So, say he meets someone like Jay who seems very excited about something he doesn't like, his first assumption will be "this person is most likely annoying and a waste of time because they're trying to be as good as me, that's not egotistical that's just an observation. Everyone complimenting them is simply lying to them.".

- He refuses to believe any of his flaws are his fault, sure he can say he has flaws but they're all someone else's fault. It's never just how he is, it's always because "someone caused me to act like this".

- He switches between "I'm literally amazing I'm so smart I'm funny I'm good at everything" to "Everyone hates me for no reason I dont deserve any of this they're all terrible awful people" and then again to "I'm not good enough yet I need to push myself more so they'll see I'm better than they think". All because of a small bit of criticism. He absolutely cannot handle criticism. ("Why are you doubting me!? I'm a nindroid!" <- when Kai tried helping him, "Not now Pixal!" <- when Pixal told him trying to out-smart Nadakhan was a bad idea)

- I think him and Pixal argue a LOT. It's why I don't openly ship pixane. I believe ever since he found out she was Samurai X his trust issues got way worse (While he is easily trusting, once he does trust someone it's hard to not break it). He constantly uses their "no more secrets" promise agaisnt her, and he thinks that no matter what she or anyone else tells him, the probability of her keeping something from him is high, and he has to stop it (even if it means being extra clingy, possessive, and controling). But the other ninja somehow haven't noticed this from them, they just believe it's normal couple banter.

Sorry, like I said, this headcanon is coming out of my ass. Now I can talk about what caused it.

I see Dr. Julien as a good father to Zane, just not the best one. Like he's at the lower end of average. Not abusive so to speak, just overly critical and slightly neglectful. Zane's a robot, so why can't he do the things Dr. Julien tells him to do well enough! Julien accidentally made him too similar to the (daughter..ftm moment.) son he wanted, so similar that it turns out Zane needed the same amount of attention and support an actual child would've needed, which Julien didn't account for. Zane was used to only receiving the bare minimum of those two by s1. Unfortunately the bare minimum is far from enough. Not to mention the isolation he had to live through living in Birchwood, far from the village.

I think what we see as OG Zane is basically his child/early teen stage. Anything past s4 is late teen/adult, which is when his symptoms started showing up more. The other ninja, especially Wu, noticed he was starting to cling to Pixal much more (especially since she was in his mind). He'd also start spending more time on hobbies and things to impress people. Thinking if they thought his new self was better than his old self, he wouldn't be seen as a failed replica of the original Zane. He thought he could hide the fact it was all just to look better than everyone else, but either Kai or Cole picked up on it (Kai because he acts similarly in that way, and Cole because he's usually the first to notice things wrong with Zane.). When they showed their concern, Zane only saw it as motivation to try harder and them trying to take Pixal from him.

After the Never Realm, his self esteem and worth went to absolute shit. Not only was he abused and manipulated, he was at fault for the deaths of thousands.

But worst of all, he let himself be abused. Or at least that's what he believes (the Quest for the Lost Powers also confirms this!). He blames himself massively. How could he let himself fall for that? Why didn't he fully cover up the cave to stop threats from coming in? Why didn't he kill Vex when he got his memories back? Why did he let Vex control him? Isn't he supposed to be perfect? How could someone who claims to be perfect let himself slip up like that?

He definitely started to push himself more after coming back. In training, in battle, with maintaining the monastery, with cooking for the others, hobbies, you get the point. He'd completely forgotten to be patient with himself while trying to gain control over his powers and his life again. Meaning the next time he tried to use them in training, they were out of control and he ended up failing and hurting himself. But how? How could he not be perfect if he was trying as hard as he could? If he was programmed to be the best, why isn't he?

Pixal was also starting to get annoyed with Zane, he was way too attached and she knew that. It made her fall out of love, if there was any in the first place. Zane refused to let her separate from him though, especially since there was still the idea that she was keeping things from him. He believed Pixal didn't think he was worth caring about, causing him to purposely make himself worse in hopes her pity will keep her with him. He'd already been struggling with self harm, but now it was as a punishment for failing as well as a way to get Pixal not to leave (See why I don't ship them now?). I would love to talk about how I think he s/h but it'd take another post.

Now that Pixal is gone, he's getting way worse mentally. Which is why he seems like he's not working as well as usual (in the tournament). It's not like he's not trying anymore, it's that he hasn't let himself rest enough for his efforts to work.

That was way less than i expected to say (⁠･⁠o⁠･⁠;⁠). Anyway! Yeah!!! It is just mainly headcanons, but if Zane were confirmed to have some kind of personality disorder in a different world where ninjago isn't for tiny kids I wouldn't be surprised!!!

TY TY TY TY FOR ASKING IVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO YAP ABOUT THIS. 😭😭😭😭

#ninjago #zane ninjago #sh tw #godddddd this has been marinating in my mind i hope it makes sense #i have other npd hcs for ninjago too #like Garmadon for one #although that's obvious #anyway if anything needs clearing up i can answer it in the comments sooo 🤷🏽#actually npd

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havemyheartaziraphale · 7 months ago

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I just want to say thank you to the Good Omens fandom for making me feel welcome, and not like I'm pestering you or annoying you.

10-12 years ago I originally joined Tumblr and was a part of the BBC Sherlock and Doctor Who fandoms. I followed a load of blogs that were dedicated to the shows, but i never felt fully welcome except by a handful of people (two of whom I think of fondly, and one I'm still in contact with to this day).

However, there were some people who, no matter the reason, always seemed to be disgusted with people contacting them if they didn't have a large following, or interpreted things differently to them. On more than one occasion I felt like the hostility they showed me was too much (which, actually, wasn't even warranted) and I eventually slipped away. I didn't enjoy it anymore, and eventually deactivated my account.

And now I'm back, because I had to talk about theories, and what was going on. And I'm so glad so many of you have been welcoming and engaging and as excited as me about this show.

So thank you, especially to @somehow-a-human @gallup24 @lookingatacupoftea @ladybracknellssherry @lickthecowhappy @melbatron5000 @dunkthebiscuit

And thanks to @weirdly-specific-but-ok for allowing me into the discord and the maggot fandom too because you guys are nuts but you're all decent humans and let me pop in and out as I please

And to anyone who I interact with regularly and haven't mentioned, I appreciate you all too. You have no idea how great it is to have people like my #absolute crackpot theory posts

#good omens #absolute crackpot theory #good omens fans #thank you #honestly i thought id feel the same way but its been so nice this time round #good omens 2

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nebmia · 9 months ago

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Reviewing every rpg book on my shelf: 1, Dungeon Crawl Classics

Everything about this game is absolutely dripping with bonkers maximalist bombast that makes me excited to play. To start with book itself is nearly 2 inches thick. Is that practical? No! does it feel like you've got an ancient tome full of roleplaying possibilities? Absolutely.

In a world tending towards minimalism and 'polished' production its so good to have somthing thats just big and fun and unapologetic about not being what it is.

DCC's dice are a microcosm of everything great about it. Not only do they come in shapes they never taught you about in maths class but they also all come with a fun little bonus. One of my sets comes with a stat block for a monster, while the other has a ridiculous table of reality warping effects on which you roll ALL the dice in the set, and inevitably send your campaign careening off into madness. (and it has a frame story about a stoner wizard in a magic van).

And then there's the actual contents of the book, which is probably about 80% spells and ridiculous tables. And the spells are just so good. Each one takes up a a least a full page on average and gives a range of results according to how well you roll, from 'it missfires and things go horribly wrong' at the bottom, through 'it does about what you would expect' in the middle result ranges, to 'actually, this is almost too much' if you manage to get a roll in the 30s.

Alongside being sick as hell, this also has a satisfying effect of keeping low level spells relevent and interesting as their effects scale with the strength of the caster on a variety of axis.

related to spells is the 'spell duel' procedure. I have no idea how well it runs at the table, but the idea that when two (or more) wizards fight their spells can interact and you can use any appropriate spell to try and counter another spell is so increadibly compelling.

Ok, enough gushing about vibes. what about actually playing? So far what I have run is the 'level-0 funnel', which is probably what you have heard about if you have heard anything about DCC. The premise is simple: randomly generate 2-4 level-0 peasants for each player, send them into a dungeon, and then take whoever survives and level them up to become your characters for a campaign.

Not only does these lead to much hilarity as a mob of townsfolk bungle their way through danger but also really fun problem solving as the players work out how best to navigate problems with a shoehorn, a bundle of wood and a live chicken.

Specifically, what I have run is Sailors on the Starless Sea, which is correctly recognised as THE introductory module to use. Its a nice sequence of somewhat open investigation followed by a excellend sequence of bombastic set pieces, all the while giving the players lots of scope to come at things ininteresting ways. It can get a bit unwiedly trying to manage such large number of characters when they do run into combat but if you plan ahead a bit and use various tricks (it would be useful is more of that advice was in the book rather than coming from forums) it is manageable.

And to return to vibes one last time: the art in these books is just so good. We could not be further from the slightly stiff generic highly rendered fantasy art of wotc era d&d. Its all fantastically old school fantasy, so full of character, and just the right amount of rough around the edges. My only slight complaint is that this does include a little too much of old school fantasy art's treatment of women than I would like...There are still prenty of sensibly dressed women and i'm not about to decree that no sexy fantasy women are allowed but the dial is a little further in a direction of objectification that I would like.

#ttrpg #dcc #my stuff #Reviewing every rpg book on my shelf

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raconteur-wanpi · 2 months ago

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Apparently people are going crazy with theories over Queen's updated Vivre Card, and while those, as I've complained before, tend to be extremely untrustworthy and full of retcons and decanonized errors, IF it is to be trusted there's so much funny shit to unpack here. I don't even know where to begin. Like.

-The information that MADS was formed 39-40 years ago. The idea that those three stooges (since the other two known members are like, 1-2 decades older) were actual minors when they started building literal chemical weapons of war (16-17 years old) is fucking wild. Lu Feld out there creating new exciting ways to do child labor. Loosing my mind. But it's OK because these are the world's Most Evil Teenagers and they yearn for the unethical science mines.

-It also, apparently lasted for 10 years. Those guys were working together for a decade. Which honestly makes a lot of interactions they have with and about each other both make more sense and way funnier. I guess Vegapunk feeling the need to keep Caesar around even during the Punk Hazard days, despite the fact that he's. well. himself, makes more sense considering he had already worked with the guy for a decade. That will numb you to a lot of red flags lmao. It also makes the Neo MADS cover story of Judge initially not recognizing Caesar, absolutely hysterical. Who the fuck are you (directed at a guy he worked with for ten whole years).

-Yeah let's get it out of the way, if this vivre card information is canon, Mr. The Plague has a son he's abandoned. People are going wild trying to figure out who it is and everyone's either banking on Weevil (which feels like, he's more likely to be just a failed clone of Newgate, so I'm not sure if it's him? Still could work I guess.) and. let's get it out of the way. Franky. And unfortunately for everyone, not only does the timeline line-up perfectly, like, too perfectly (his son is stated to be 36 years old and abandoned at the age of 10, when Queen was already with the Beast Pirates). Franky is 36, abandoned at the age of 10, and stated his parents were pirates. But also, Franky never saw Queen in his human form (only in his dino form) back at Onigashima so like. so he couldn't have made any comments about him. I have no idea if it's true. But like, can you fucking imagine. Can you imagine. Not one. Two. Two Strawhats that were abandoned by their MADS fathers. That's so funny. And tragic. Can anyone in this organization be normal about children for ONCE I am begging you. I'm including Vegapunk in this; what the fuck is going on with the Seraphim. Heartbreaking: the last five people on the planet that should ever be having any kids keep having and/or picking up kids. Anyway yeah, this could easily be a bait and switch but the fact this is a possibility is haunting me. I don't know if I believe it, but I kind of want to.

-Oh yeah, his real name is Scien. You know. like Science. Apparently. Which is very stupid but also kinda fun. Honestly if it was romanized as something like "Psien" or "Saien" or "Psion" or "Scion" or "Cyan" it'd probably feel less goofy.

That's it that's all the new info. It is completely useless but mildly entertaining to me in extremely funny ways. Have fun and do what you will with it.

#one piece #queen one piece #queen the plague #MADS one piece #dr vegapunk #vivre card #talltales #this is interesting to me only #long post #caesar clown #franky one piece #cyborg franky

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ryverbind · 9 months ago

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Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Beg For It [21]

TW: smut :P

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dacnorthxx started following you.

sallysusedtoiletpaper: VI WHO IS THIS WHO IS NORTH WHY IS THIS INTERACTION GIVING ME LIFE??? t0ddles2: @sallysusedtoiletpaper frontman of dark autumn complex sallysusedtoiletpaper: @t0ddles2 oh omg ok... I've never heard of them are they any good?? ashypoops: I haven't heard of them either. What genre? More importantly DOES VI HAVE HER VERY FIRST SHIP toodswithoutthed: @ashypoops I WAS ABOUT TO ASK BC THE CHEMISTRY!?!? they're obsessed w each other... I went stalk his profile. Ship name options: northlence, violeth... t0ddles2: they're rock/metal. even if u don't like the genre, they're worth a listen sallysusedtoiletpaper: WORD I just followed him and their band account >:3 also @toodswithoutthed I'm personally a fan of violeth. I'm linking this shit in the faces fan discord ashypoops: THERE'S A FAN DISCORD??? can u send me an invite pooks🥺 sallysusedtoiletpaper: @ashypoops ofc😘 sallysusedtoiletpaper: OMFG SOMEONE BEAT ME TO THE CHAT EVERYONE KNOWS NOOOOOO

———

Yea, so I lost my job. Big shocker.

Once my boss found out that I dipped mid-shift, the text was typed out and sent by the evening.

In any other situation, I'd be fucked. Indefinitely. Completely broke and flailing to get a new job. In fact, that was my first thought. As soon as I got the text, I clicked onto my bank account to check how much I'd have to live off of until I found a new job--

--only to find out that I had over $2,000 just sitting around, which was such a nice surprise. I don't think I've ever had so much money to my name before in my entire life. And all the transactions were straight from all my streaming apps. All within the past two weeks since being back in LA.

To say the least, losing my job couldn't have happened at a better time. Now, I can put my focus into something I actually enjoy doing.

But first, a trip to Nockfell, which is proving to be more chaotic by the second.

"Todd, dude, there's a chemistry to this thing, okay? It's a ritual," Larry says, all seriousness and business face as he stares back into Todd's uninterested gaze. "I can't fly without it."

Todd blinks, a flash of frustrated disappointment crossing over his features. "You're not taking an edible before the flight, Lartholomew."

Ash had a ticket ready for me before she even got to LA yesterday. Her entire mastermind plan was to abduct me whether I liked it or not-- not that I would've said no to begin with. And besides, having her at the apartment to help me pack last minute made pre-flight stress non-existent.

Travis is camping out at my apartment. He was more than happy to kick me out of my own house, claiming that my bed is comfiest anyway. Regardless, he said he had no desire to return to Nockfell anyway. And dad was just excited for me to go visit considering how much I've complained about missing the little town over all these years.

Sal and I haven't spoken since his last commanding text to me. Right before his very sudden face reveal. He's caught in an almost petrifying silence-- has been since he put his prosthetic back on. I, on the other hand, very much resemble a little puppy whimpering and begging at his feet. Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn't dare to physically exploit my internal thoughts.

The really sickening truth is that I'm so desperate to see his face again that I'd trip him down a flight of stairs just to recreate yesterday's scene.

Just kidding. I don't mean that. I definitely don't.

"All our seats are kind of screwed up, so I have no idea where you're sitting, sugar." Ash pokes my cheek, her chin in her palm and elbow propped on the armrest of her seat. "I bought them kind of last minute so I took whatever they had available."

A little smile tips my lips as I turn my attention away from the grumpy smurf and focus on my stunning best friend. Her viridian irises glow with renewed joy and energy like our plans check off so many bullet points on her bucket list. "That's okay," I reply, tilting my head. "At least we actually have seats, right?"

Ash grins, her maroon shaded lips accentuating the light freckles along the bridge of her nose. "See?" she chirps, arm winding through mine to pull me closer. "You get it. When do you not get it?"

Our plane calls for us to board, and so begins the toxic, anxiety-inducing split-up of the century. I lose all The Faces somewhere in the crowded line that gathers at our gate in just a matter of seconds. That's okay though, I'll probably end up sitting with some old lady that smells like an odd mixture of peonies, Dial soap, and Lysol. You know, a funeral home and two colds away from death. So long as she's nice, I'll catch her dentures when they fall out of her gaping mouth as she naps.

Anything for MawMaw.

I hobble my way into the plane, brain set on finding my seat before stressing about all other one hundred and fifty two things I have to worry about later. People are everywhere and it's, expectedly, a huge plane. Three rows-- two seaters against each wall and a row of three seats down the middle. Sickening, really. Social anxiety's worst enemy is looking for means of escape only to be met by even more people.

I block everyone out as best as I can, pretending that the people I bump into are just very dense pieces of furniture. Or, actually, even better-- a bunch of really buff kitties. Yep, just passing through a horde of Maine Coon's and Munchkin's.

I spot row F, my pupils zeroing in on the letter like a scope on a gun. Target acquired.

The majestic way I veer around what my mind imagines is a really tall Siamese and their spouse, a yellow Persian, is something that the directors of The Matrix are pissed that they couldn't come up with. I swing my foot around a figurative pair of paws and reach my free hand out to grip onto my seat-- F20. That's right bitches, I did it.

I swing my suitcase up, somehow managing to actually get it into the overhead compartment. I give it a good shove with both of my hands and a grunt, then pull the backpack off my shoulders to keep it at my feet when I sit down.

But now that I've stopped, cats are pushing past me and it's so aggressive and rushed that they suddenly aren't sweet, fluffy kitties anymore. They're people again and I'm starting to get dragged away from my seat by this sea of shared distress.

Nimble fingers latch onto my wrist from the seat beside mine-- the seat against the window. The hand tightens around me, giving my body a good yank forward. I use the aided force to weave my way around a few more people up until the hand pulls me into my seat.

I huff out a breath, pushing my hair out of the eyeholes of my mask. And begrudgingly, I turn my head to meet bright cerulean hair.

Sal isn't looking at me, he's facing the window. His entire stature gives off a mixture of unbothered and ashamed. He shouldn't feel that second one-- never. Granted, he shouldn't feel angry half as much as he does but that's besides the point.

Ever since it happened, I could tell that the abrupt exposure of his face has been heavily weighing on him. I don't owe this man a single thing-- he's been awful to me in so many ways, but I give credit where credit is due. Not only did he own up and apologize to me yesterday, he helped me to my seat... and he is handsome. Regardless of how he views himself.

He's my biggest enemy and I, his. But if I plan on getting fucked during my visit to Nockfell, I have to give him the Beating of Truth.

"So," I mumble, chewing on the inside of my cheek. If you couldn't tell, I'm absolutely forcing myself to do this even though it's the last thing I want to do. "How are we working around Ash, Larry, and Todd when we get to Nockfell?"

Sal's head tips up a bit, like he's wondering to himself if I actually just spoke to him. Then his head pivots sideways so that he can side-eye me.

"What?" He asks, voice genuinely shocked and confused. It makes my heart stutter a bit. Any time he speaks in a tone that isn't aggressive, it completely reboots my system.

"How are we going to follow through with this arrangement?" I try again, simplifying it into Sal terms. He has a wide vocabulary range; maybe using bigger words will snap some sense into him. For added effect, I lean onto the armrest separating him and I, trying to show that he doesn't repulse me or anything of the sort.

Sal doesn't move away, instead, he adjusts his body so that he can address me. Fully turns his prosthetic face to me and settles into his seat. I didn't realize how tense he was when I first sat down, but watching him relax now shows me how much my simple mention of our agreement settled his mental turmoil.

He's quiet for a moment, eyes dancing across my mask and body before his gaze meets mine again. "You still want to?" he finally decides to ask, eyebrows lifting beneath his prosthetic.

"Yea," I snort, scrunching my nose up as if his question is ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"

Okay, stupid question. I know the answer and the words came out before I could stop them. In more ways than others, that was a genuine response though. I can't accept that Sal would be so put off by his own appearance because I truly think it's so lovely. I have to remember though that not everyone sees themselves the way I see them though.

Sal's brows bunch together again, his eyes narrowing. "Stupid fucking question," he echoes my own thoughts, voice even and void of tone. Whoopsie.

I roll my own eyes, sighing. "Well, to settle the whole debacle," I start, aiming to just bite the bullet and extinguish the awkwardness and misplaced fear vibrating between us. "I think you're quite the catch."

Friendly banter is weird. Borderline uncomfortable, but... not quite. Just so that I'm ready to get this over with but I'd be prepared for it to happen again.

A nasally snort leaves Sal and he rotates his head so that he's facing the pair of seats in front of us.

"So," he prods, ignoring my statement. "North?"

Mission success. I know he'll never admit it and he doesn't need to, but I think he appreciates the compliment.

"What's it to you?" I counter, adjusting my position in turn. I sit criss-cross applesauce in my seat, making sure my feet don't touch Sal because God forbid. "You still get to fuck me."

"Not much," he says lowly, hand moving to ruffle up his fringe. There's that dagger tattoo again. And then his head tilts just a bit, haunting sapphire blue piercing straight through my soul like the weapon etched onto his skin. "But you're mine. North can't give you even an ounce of what I can."

Fuzzy fingers, a pounding heart, and the worst case of cold sweats possible dominates my body for the rest of the flight. My brain replays that statement over and over again, plaguing me with recurring physical reactions like I've just heard it in real life again. I wish he hadn't said anything at all if it was going to leave me like this.

Neither of us said another word. The only sound between the two of us was the constant cracking of my knuckles accompanied by me putting my feet on the ground-- then sitting criss-cross again-- then having to readjust again and again and again. He left me quite literally restless and I'm sure he's relishing in just the knowledge of it.

Landing in Nockfell was a quick divergence from bubbly hearted affliction in my being. A good distraction from Sal.

Perpetual autumn. Nockfell never gets too hot or cold. The air is always misty, the sky always grey and cloudy. Tall, ever-growing trees dominate both night and day, stealing all the light from the sun and hiding it in their leafy treetops. Nockfell houses the kind of atmosphere that I've dreamt of returning to for years now; the gentle eeriness and chill that I've longed to bask in ever since I left.

We step out of the airport and into the small parking lot where a suspiciously blue haired man is waving at us with a big, dad-like grin on his face. Not a question in my mind. That's Sal's dad-- the cropped, receding cerulean hair was the first obvious sign but as we grow closer, his bright azure eyes are the second giveaway.

"Wassup, daddio!" Larry exclaims, wrapping Sal's father up in a huge bear hug (which is so Emo Buff Daddy of him). I nearly forgot that Sal's dad, who I now know as Henry, is also Larry's step-dad. Crazy.

"Not much, big guy!" Henry chuckles, rubbing Larry's back affectionately once the hug comes to an end. He pats Larry's shoulder, that big smile still on his aged face. "You guys brought the friend back! Convinced her to come huff up our humid air?"

Henry moves over to Ash, Todd, and then Sal to hug all of them. He purposefully places a discreet kiss on top of Sal's head before turning to me.

He holds his arms open suggestively and my heart flutters. "You okay with hugs?" He asks me. "Everyone's family here."

A grin of my own sneaks onto my face as I take a little step toward Henry and wrap my arms around his middle.

Henry's arms latch around my body, shielding me from the moist, heavy air of Nockfell and anything else that could possibly hurt me here. His embrace is so comforting, so familiar, so protective that tears I've been holding back for weeks suddenly rush to the surface.

I love my own dad, he's perfect, but being hugged by his near doppelgänger reminds me of how much I miss him. I wish dad and I weren't apart so often. But that'll change soon with the money I'm making.

I don't allow myself to weep, I hide the tears and pull away from the comforting hug I needed so desperately to smile sweetly at Henry. Lovely man, his own smile widens.

The group of us piles into Henry's old 2000 Nissan Pathfinder to navigate around Nockfell.

We first stop at Ash's place-- a home I haven't seen in a decade now. Everything is so nostalgic-- the tall, two story, white-painted, wooden home and the canopy of evil-looking trees that hide it from the road reminds me of a time that's been ripped away from me.

Ash leans on the door of Henry's SUV, the window down for her to speak to me before she disappears. "I'll come by Sal's or the apartments later to scoop you up, 'kay? Parents and I have a meeting with some guys to transfer ownership of some things to me before the move." She chews on her lip, a deep yearning in her pretty eyes. "I'd let you stay with me if I could."

I shake my head at her-- I don't want her to feel guilty for handling business. "No that's okay." I tell her sweetly, grabbing onto her hand. "I'll kickback with the guys."

Ash smiles, squeezing my hand in hers before breaking off to head to her house.

Now, I never imagined I'd end up coming back to Nockfell in general, but to stand in Sal Fisher's home? These were even more improbable odds.

And worse, Todd suddenly slips out of the house with the very mean (he's ditching me!) excuse of meeting with Neil for a late lunch. That just leaves me, Larry, and Sal standing in the spacious kitchen of their shared two-story home. It's quaint, roomy, and pretty nice. I imagine it's kept up specifically because Sal tends to it.

And Sal, he doesn't say anything. Which is typical behavior from him. He only, swiftly, spins on his heels, luggage in hand, and disappears into a room right past the stairs. Okay, fair. It's late in the afternoon-- naptime.

And now it's down to two.

I look to Larry with a grin. And he's grinning back excitedly, wiggling around like an antsy child who's about to go on a field trip.

"I can't believe we managed to get you over here," he whisper-yells, screaming silently. You know, just open-mouthed and head tipped to the ceiling in pure excitement.

"Even Copernicus wouldn't be able to debunk this turn of events," I joke, watching Larry dance around his kitchen. I put my bags down. I'm sure we'll figure out this situation later when Ash returns.

Larry opens up his refrigerator, moving around some bottles before uttering an expletive. "Ah, fuck," he hisses out, quickly lifting his head which results in him slamming said head into the freezer door. I pause, wincing, eyeing his silhouette warily while awaiting whatever he has to say next.

He resurfaces from the fridge, rubbing his aching head and chewing on his bottom lip. "I left my fucking bags in Henry's car." He curses again, glancing up at me with agitated eyes. "I have to run over to the apartments real quick." Larry starts inching away from the fridge and I feel my heart leap. How could he forget his luggage in the car? And is he really about to leave me here with the master of aggressive seduction himself? We're bound to tear this house apart either via sex or a physical fight. I just don't know which one.

"I'll be like... ten minutes at most," Lar says, squeezing past me and around the kitchen table, rerouting to the front door. He gives me a look that screams vulnerability and urgency. "Please don't kill Sal, and don't let him kill you. Okay? I'll be back in a jiffy."

I blink at him, running my tongue along the inside of my dry mouth. This is not going to go well. "Okay," I say anyway. I can already see the headline on the newspaper-- 'Masked Streamer, Sally Face, Brutally Murders and Chops Up Rising Streamer, VioletViolence, With Kitchen Knife.'

Larry nods at me, pinches his lips together in a moment of concerned hesitation, then disappears through the front door.

I stand in the empty kitchen for a moment, watching the back of Larry's head through the front door window. "In a jiffy..." I murmur to myself, recalling the most soccer-mom words I've ever heard come from Larry's vicinity. It was so odd, I mean he would never say something like that, but here we are.

The house is empty aside from myself and Sal. What the hell am I supposed to do? Watch The Office?-- well, that actually doesn't sound bad at all.

I can literally do anything I want, though. I have been given the most opportune opportunity to act upon my will as I see fit. With that in mind accompanied by the suspiciously good conversation a certain blue-haired individual and I shared on the plane, I think I have an idea of what I could do. And I know I'll have a willing partner.

This will either end in a homicide via kitchen knife or an orgasm. I'll take my chances.

A sly little grin fights its way onto my lips as I spin on my heels, trekking over to Sal's room. His door is closed, giving him an ample amount of darkness to hide in while gaming or sleeping or whatever he's doing. But for me, it's the ample amount of darkness to create a moody setting. It's perfect.

The cold, metal doorknob sits comfortably in the palm of my hand as I give myself one last chance to think about this. I really shouldn't do this, but the timing will never be this good again. With everyone moving to LA, I may never get a chance this convenient since someone will always be around.

That's the last little bit of encouragement I need to twist the knob and slowly push the plain, white painted door open.

The wood squeaks on its hinges, making Sal turn his head up from his PC. His dark, shadowed eyes meet mine. They go from curious to a bit miffed in half a second— but he doesn't say anything, really just ignores me and turns back to his setup.

My heart races. He didn't turn me away or tell me to get the fuck out of his room. That's a good start. But that also means I can actually follow through with my very sudden plan— a plan which has no plan. I didn't even brainstorm what I could do because I genuinely didn't think I'd get this far.

I watch him closely, noting the way his computer casts a cool, blue glow against his prosthetic. His hand moves the mouse around and he clicks on various things, really paying me no mind at all.

My teeth clamp onto my bottom lip as I step past the threshold of his room, grabbing hold of the door and slowly closing it behind me. Once it latches into place, I wait, simply observing the man with my back to the door. For good measure, I turn the lock. You know, just in case I manage to get somewhere.

And he still doesn't look my way. The fact that he's ignoring my presence right now makes anticipation build up within me. My heart thumps a little faster than it already has been. My cheeks feel warm, I can't keep my hands still. It's like my brain is kicked into overdrive, forcing me to take notice of every little thing.

I lick my lips and take a step forward, scratching at the skin on my knuckles. I take another step, then another, my body growing warm with anxiousness all because I may stand in front of this man, present myself to him, and come to regret it. I really might embarrass myself. Just because we agreed doesn't mean he wants me at this exact moment.

But before I'm even really prepared, I'm standing right beside him. And he's sitting there without a care in the world, comfortably propped up in his gaming chair and pulling up different comments on what looks to be YouTube.

I've done about all I can for right now, but we are on limited time. So I watch him for a moment. He has to know I'm right here— I wasn't quiet, I didn't avoid his field of vision. I'm right here.

And I still get nothing.

Time to think. Should I say something insulting? That usually gets him riled up. Maybe then, one thing will lead to another.

I bounce on my heels for a second as I think up a quick insult. "Is this how you waste your time? Figured you'd at least reply to some of your fans if you were going to read their comments. Kinda shitty of you." Low blow probably. I don't really mean it, but I'm sure he'll take it seriously. His fans mean a lot to him, it's the best way to gain his attention.

But Sal doesn't even react, only scrolls through a few replies under a comment and clicks 'like' on a some. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't look at me. Never makes a sound.

I roll my eyes. Playing hard to get are we? He fusses at me for not complying all the time— he's such a hypocritical asshole. I hate that I'm into it.

I swallow thickly, putting my hands behind my back to try and hide my nervous fidgeting. "Sal," I try, cringing a bit. That was desperation— he has to know that.

Again, nothing.

He really must be trying to piss me off, that or he isn't interested at all. But thankfully, the zero interest half doesn't stink like I was afraid it would. Instead, it spurs me into action.

He can ignore my words all he wants, but he can't ignore me.

"I'm going to touch you," I warn because consent is important. "If you don't want that, you need to tell me."

I wait a good thirty seconds but he stays silent.

I pinch my lips together then grab onto the armrest of his chair, pulling it back just enough to place my body between him and his computer. He simply looks up at me with disinterested eyes, so I go further, fueled by the spark in my soul and the rage of him purposefully pretending I'm not even there.

I take a step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder for balance, then easily slide myself onto his lap. His thighs are warm beneath my own, his skin smooth under my fingertips. The dark ink on his biceps contrasts beautifully with the milky color of his skin and it's quite an honor to finally run my hands over his art.

I watch the way my fingers drag down his arm then up again, returning to his shoulder. I'm on top of him and he still hasn't said a word, still hasn't touched me. At this point, I'm yearning for something— anything.

The only good sign I'm getting is that he hasn't pushed me off.

I glance up, looking into his blue eyes that are darkened by the shadows of his room. They're watching me closely, no ounce of emotion reflected in them. He's just observing.

My other hand travels to his prosthetic face, gripping onto his jaw in the way that he does to me so often. "Think you can ignore me?" I whisper, a little smirk quirking my lips despite how badly I wish I could contain it.

A slight furrowing of his brows is what I get in return.

Ha, got him.

He still doesn't say anything, but I've piqued his interest at least.

"Larry's gone," I say next, my eyes traveling to the rough prosthetic in my hands. I run my thumb over the underside of his jaw, feeling a number of scars.

"I assumed so," he says, voice a bit deeper than it normally would be and toneless like it seems to have been all day.

My gaze meets his again, and this time there's a little fire in his pretty eyes. There's desire, interest, slow-building exhilaration. I love seeing this look on him.

"Mhm," I hum, moving my other hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck. "Are you going to sit here and ignore me like the asshole you are, or are you going to have mercy on both of us?"

Sal slowly blinks, eyes traveling over my form, drinking me in like I'm the last drop of water on earth. "You called me an asshole for a reason," he bites out. "Don't expect much. Unlike you, I can actually hold out."

"But what's the point of holding out?" I counter, tilting my head to the left. "Larry's heading to the apartments. We have about ten minutes. That's enough room for one of a couple options. Stop being a little prick and do something."

"More like twenty. Larry takes his sweet ass time." Sal's eyes narrow. "You think insulting me is going to coerce me into this, you little bitch? Thought you knew our dynamic well enough by now." My words are getting to him. That's exactly what I want.

"I do know our dynamic," I whisper, leaning my head down so that my face is level with his. I look into his cerulean eyes and they gaze back at me, one pupil dilated. Then, I bend lower until I'm at the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my jaw.

I use the hand holding his face to tilt his head up and away from me, using the angle as leverage to place my lips onto his warm skin.

I hear a muffled sigh from him in response and it takes everything in me not to smile.

My mouth moves slowly along the side of his neck, placing meaningful, wet kisses along his throat. But when I get to the hilt of his tattoo, I bit down gently.

He flinches at the feeling of my teeth digging into his skin, then completely aborts his mission to ignore me completely.

Sal's hands fly to my waist, one gripping tightly onto my hip and the other trailing up my back and into my hair, gripping the strands tightly before yanking my head back.

My teeth are ripped from his neck immediately and Sal pulls me away from him by the base of my neck. I gasp, staring into his captivating azure eyes from just centimeters away. His prosthetic nose bumps my mask's and he holds me there without a word.

His eyes trail down my face and heavy breaths follow his gaze. His cold fingers are curled into my neck, his nails digging into my skin.

I swallow, wondering if maybe I should have just minded my own business, stayed in the living room and waited for Larry to come back. Maybe I pissed him off.

I lick my lips and blink at him, my mouth gapes open as I try to find something to say. He's silent. It's not awkward, just scary. Scary is ten times worse.

Sal must see the regret and fear in my eyes because his own eyes lessen their harsh glare a bit and then he rasps out, "Can I touch you?"

Every inch of my body goes rigid with shock, anticipation. "Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers tighten ever so slightly on the underside of his jaw while my heart runs an entire marathon in my chest. Now is not the time to get nervous because I sweat when I'm nervous. I need to be horny– not nervous.

Sal takes a deep breath, eyes set on mine. I feel his chest rise ever so slowly, then go back down the same exact way. The pause between us is utter agony and I feel like I'm going to start spazzing out or something. Honestly, with the way I'm sitting on top of him, I might just fall over and die on the spot. That feels less incriminating than whatever is about to ensue.

Cool fingers grasp onto my thigh, his palm flattening against my skin. His hand drags up to my side, followed by his other hand leaving my neck to grab the other side of my waist. The feeling of him touching me, just like he'd asked, fills me with memories I tried so desperately to forget just a couple weeks or so ago. This is deja vu in the best way.

In one swift motion, Sal lifts me up and plops me on top of his desk. I brace myself with my hands on either side of his keyboard that lays behind me. Questions of concern start flowing through my brain because this is an odd place to be.

"Don't knock over my shit," Sal breathlessly informs, eyes glancing up to me. HIs hands move to the waist band of my bottoms and I suck in another anxious, anticipatory breath.

I nod quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he looks down at my waist, his hands circling to the front of my stomach and fumbling with the button of my shorts. Oh my gosh.

I gulp, looking at anything but the man between my legs, currently pulling down the shorts I'd traveled in. His cold fingers brush along the outside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. He's slow, purposeful, dragging this out to get whatever reaction out of me that he can. It feels like my heart is about to explode.

I have no idea what he's about to do, he doesn't warn me either. I don't have the guts to watch this scene play out. The prospect of his dilated pupils, messy hair, and that glare in his captivating eyes is too much-- so much that warmth pools between my thighs before he can initiate anything.

"You look scared," he murmurs and I flinch at the gentle, comforting tone he uses with me. I've never heard something such as this come from him and be directed at mebefore.

"I am," I answer honestly, licking my lips while his fingers slowly pull my shorts down my legs. I lift myself a bit to aid him, shivering when my bare legs meet the cold surface of his desk. "A bit."

"Why?" Sal asks, hands pressing onto my thighs. With how warm my skin is and how cool his fingers are, the contrasting temperature is enough to spark an aneurysm. He drags those hands of his up my legs until he reaches my panties, hooking his digits into them.

I shake my head, chin quite literally tilted up to the ceiling. I'm not quite sure what has me so scared. Am I afraid of myself? Him? Getting caught? Being dropped again?

One risky hand leaves my hip and Sal's prosthetic comes into view. He's hovering over me, in a standing position now. His hair falls onto my shoulders, shielding us from the rest of the world like a curtain. I blink up at him, breath caught in my throat as a rush of chills invades my body.

"Hey," he says. His voice is a bit on edge, but it's concerned. So concerned that it distracts me from my own fear for a moment. "You're okay," he continues, his hand gripping onto my chin and pulling my head down so we can be eye level. I look between his bright eyes-- his eyebrows are risen a bit, as if to communicate to me that I can trust him. But can I?

"I'll take care of you. If you want to stop, if you don't want to start-- let me know. Say anything and I'll end it immediately." He tilts his head a bit, eyes glancing over my face. This is different. This looks vulnerable. "If I made you uncomfortable at all, I--"

My head shakes in opposition. I don't even have to think about it. "No, it's not that. It-- I trust you." The words spew out of my mouth and I immediately regret it. Something smug takes over his expression and I press my lips together, grabbing onto his wrist connected to the hand that's still holding my chin. "I trust you with this. If I was tied to train tracks, I wouldn't even think of calling you." I narrow my eyes at him to exemplify my point. His eyes squint as if he's... smiling? I'll ignore that. "But you've never... made me uncomfortable. You always ask. You always check. So..."

I watch him nod slowly, our gazes never disconnecting. He seems to contemplate what I've said, measurably formulating his next move. "Do you want to talk about what's stressing you then?"

My head rears back and my eyebrows furrow, his hand falling away from my face. "What brain eating amoeba has overtaken you?" I blurt out, holding a hand out between us. It's incredibly odd-- this is out of place. "You are never concerned about me-- what is this?"

If you can't tell, I'm not a fan of change. I greatly prefer stability even if it's toxic.

Sal drops the caring act almost immediately, his eyes rolling so hard that I'm worried they'll sink into his body. "I can't go down on you if you're freaked, can I? I wouldn't even feel comfortable doing that. I'm an asshole, not a monster."

I pause, every facial feature relaxing as his statement slaps me in the face. Key words: go, down, on, you, asshole, monster. Yep, only monstrous assholes go down on their enemies. I'm the very brave, very eager, very shocked recipient of this going down.

I take a deep, shaky breath, blinking at Sal who watches me with what looks like a raised eyebrow. "Okay," I breathlessly whisper. "How are you-- are you..." Why am I rambling? What kind of answer am I looking for? Obviously the prosthetic is about to come off and I just have to contain the desperate, whore-like rage within.

"Shut up, Vi," he chuckles over my nickname, grabbing onto my thighs and tugging me to the edge of the desk as he sits in his chair again. My fingertips press into the wooden surface while my heart threatens to pound its way through my ribcage. "Just let me taste you."

Cue internal screaming. I'm so going to faint-- and the addition of watching his pretty guitar-playing hands leave my skin to unbuckle his prosthetic is pushing me to astronomical heights. I don't even exist anymore. I'm just a wisp, a little phantom fairy watching her favorite sex movie play out in real time. It's called Faceless Fixation. She's the Fellatio Fairy. I don't even-- whoever is writing my life needs to give me a break.

I'm shivering like I have hypothermia by the time Sal carefully pulls the prosthetic off his face, making sure to not mess up his hair. And then he glances up at me. Bright eyes hesitant, sort of wide. Eyebrows risen just a bit and lips pressed together like he wants to say a thousand things but can't. He looks so nervous and it's a moment we can both share.

For reassurance (I think we both need it) I smile at him. Just a slight upward tilt of my lips as I press my thighs together. He's so beautiful. Every scar, every indentation, every feature, every little freckle. Just wow-- he's a sight to behold.

Sal's gaze flits to my lips, then down to my legs and he grabs onto them again, purposefully pulling them apart. His black polished nails dig into my skin as he gazes down at my underwear. I'm so used to watching his reactions and feelings portrayed only through his eyes, but watching the way his jaw tenses and the moment his lips part like he can't wait any longer makes me feel like I'll implode.

His fingers run up my legs to my hips, dipping into my panties and pulling them downward. I gulp over the sight, relishing in the deja vu. How kind of him to not rip these this time.

I lift myself up as he shimmies them down my legs, finally pulling them from around my ankles and holding them up for me to see. I blink, warmth rushing to my face at his boldness. And Sal, well-pleased, quirks a little seductive smile at them before switching his gaze to me.

"I haven't even touched you and you're soaked," is what he murmurs, eyes dancing over my half naked body with very little focus on my face. It's like he's glued to what hides behind my clenched thighs, eagerly awaiting what he'll find between them. "You're inflating my ego way too much," his voice is a bit louder this time-- darker, more sinister. The pronunciation of his words shows off charming, slightly crooked front teeth and sharp canines. I'll never know how I haven't ascended already.

I shiver, trying and failing to hide my reaction. But it doesn't really matter, seeing as Sal caught onto it anyway and his hooded eyes are on mine, a dangerous glint clashing with the hypnotizing azure shade of his irises.

His hands are on my legs again, fingers roughly squeezing my skin. He isn't putting off his plans again though. When he separates my legs and I try my best not to push him away out of fear, Sal leans forward and presses his lips to the inside of my left thigh.

I take a deep, shuddering breath as I bathe in the feeling of his soft, jagged lips moving along my sensitive skin. I commit the image to memory, absolutely astonished over the way his blue eyes are closed while he inches closer and closer to my pussy.

I'm unable to take a full breath at this point, my body is tense while I try to hold myself in an upright position, pathetically falling apart as his mouth dances along the inside of my thigh like he's studied and perfected each step he takes. His hands are molded into my skin, they've become a part of me. He's pressing my thigh up to his face, leaving the most inebriating kisses. I wish he would stop teasing me already.

At the same time, I'm obsessed with the way he's handling me. Delicately, carefully, but he's in full control and making me wait. Testing me. Seeing if I'll push him, hoping I'll give him a good reason to punish me.

Sal's eyes open again, glancing up to meet mine. I suck in a breath, watching as he opens that dirty mouth of his and bites into the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh.

I hiss, wincing at the slight pain but my eyes never leave his. They could never. And he loves that, takes it as a challenge because those sky blue eyes close and he bites down harder, sucking my skin into his mouth to leave his mark.

Some kind of satisfied, sickeningly delighted feeling swells in my chest at the knowledge of having a mark from him on my body. It's primal, it's a little weird, but I adore the idea and maybe he does too. After what he said to me about North on the flight to Nockfell, I'd guess he's more than happy to stake his claim even if it's invisible to the outside world.

Sal finally pulls his teeth from my leg, revealing a gnarly, dark purple mark in his wake. He places a quick, soothing kiss to the abused skin before trailing his way closer to my pussy. He masks his destination with more wet kisses and bites and I'm so worked up by now that a light sheen of sweat has formed on my forehead. I can't be doing this-- this is complete torture.

"Sal," I groan out, flinching at the sinful tone of my voice. It makes him pause his movements as well. "Please," I tack on, the word quiet and agonizingly pleading.

He hums against my skin, eyes zeroed in on mine. I hate being so direct, it's terrifying, but it's worth it if it'll end up with his tongue buried in me, right?

"Beg for it," he says lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. His tone makes me shiver, as well as his words and I would drop to my hands and knees if he told me to right now.

My lips part upon hearing him and I release a shaky breath, thighs drawing together until he stops them with his tight grip. My heart is running a marathon, my limbs are trembling and I'm wondering if maybe this is all just a really awesome dream.

"Please," I repeat, voice coming out as a whine. For once, I don't regret it because this is what he wants. "I'm desperate." I don't know how else to portray to him that I need this-- the wait is nearly excruciating. "I need to feel you."

Sal pulls away from my skin, tongue lapping at all of his bite marks before a sadistic smile pulls at his lips. "How much do you hate me?" And he's waiting, waiting for a wordy explanation of my distaste for him. But now, with the way things have changed between us-- even if it's slightly-- describing my loathing somehow feels harder.

So I snort, trying to coerce him into putting his mouth on me again regardless of the location. But all the shivers, waiting, and very slow building orgasm is slipping away into the distance. "A lot," I whisper shakily.

He gives me a look, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as if I've disappointed him. "You can do better than that, Vi. Where's the fire?" He leans toward the thigh he hasn't captured with his mouth yet and skims his teeth along my skin. "Should I give you an example?"

I lick my lips, a sudden fluttering in my chest making me feel light headed. I hesitantly shake my head-- the longer he isn't paying attention to me, the farther I am from cumming. I can come up with something to say can't I? Of course I can. He's infuriating enough.

"Alright then," he mumbles monotonously, finally ditching my thighs. He yanks me a bit closer, eyes still rifling through my soul. "Then tell me. And if you stop," he warns as I swallow against the pounding in my chest due to his positioning, face mere inches from my sopping cunt. He's dragged this on long enough. "I stop. Keep that filthy mouth of yours moving."

He waits for me to launch into a monologue of detest. His mouth so close to my clit, breath tickling my skin and forcing a quiet little whimper from me.

"I fucking hate the constant foul mood you're always in," I force out, feeling my heart leap into my throat the second the words leave my mouth. Because Sal keeps his promise and with an inebriating grunt of approval, he finally attaches his lips to my clit, tongue running over it like he's desperate to soak up every inch of what I have to offer.

The feeling of his mouth on my pussy is incomparable to any other type of satisfaction in the world-- this is what I've waited for. And he happily makes up for the lost time, expertly flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves and sucking it farther into his mouth. He moans against my cunt, hands dragging up my thighs to cup my ass and force me even closer to him. He squeezes my skin, a reminder to keep talking.

I dig up all the things I can't stand about him, slathering them across my brain so I can tell him about it. "You're a brick wall. No matter what I say, you refuse to listen. How come you're never open to hearing anyone out?" I whimper between words, squirming around on his desk and trying my damn hardest not to ruin any of his belongings.

Sal lifts my legs over his arms, pushing them onto his shoulders and I swear I'm about to combust. The way his tongue maps figure eights and circles around my clit does nothing to help, only sends me further toward falling apart.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers curling over the edge of his desk, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling past my lips no matter how badly I wish I could keep them inside. "You have some kind of God complex. You think you're right about everything, have to be in control of everything and I can't stand it. I can't stand you and your constant need to have everything you want."

His teeth graze over my clit and my mouth falls open, waves of pleasure rolling through my body like I've never experienced before. He moves downward, his tongue buried between my folds and licking up every bit of my arousal that he can get. Upon getting a better taste of me, he moans and I can feel the vibration of it everywhere, all the way up to my fingertips.

"I hate how easily you turn me on, how wet I get just from a simple touch," I admit, teeth clamping down onto my bottom lip as his tongue explores the inside of my pussy like he's been starved of me for far too long. His nails dig into my skin, the action eliciting a stinging sensation that only adds to the pleasure he's giving me. This is everything. "And you're so unfair. So pretty, so damn attractive with that horrible personality of yours. Why can't you be pretty through and through?"

I open my eyes again to watch him, drowning in the prospect of his face buried between my thighs, cheeks flushed and hair a mess. I watch as he drags his mouth up to my clit again, drawing patterns and shapes I don't care to know over the bundle of nerves. The rough, slick feeling of his tongue on such a sensitive place is addicting. So long as he's around to bring me to new heights like this, I don't need anything else. Maslow's hierarchy of needs has never been so wrong-- this is my sole need.

I can't help myself-- I reach a hand out, my fingers burying themselves into Sal's hair. It's soft. Just as soft as I knew it would be. And he doesn't seem to mind, only continues to suck on my clit and abuse it with his tongue. I close my hand into a fist, lightly tugging on his hair. I need something to hold onto.

"And your stupid fucking mouth," I groan out, sucking in a breath that never fully fills my lungs. His tongue dips into my pussy again, making another little groan follow my first. My thighs are clenched tightly at this point, quaking furiously. Sal never tries to stop me, doesn't calm me. It's clear how much he enjoys bringing me to ruin. "All the awful things you say, so many dirty words and you are so good with your tongue. I've never craved and loathed something so much in my life."

Sal smiles against my pussy-- I watch in pure amazement as the corners of his lips curl upward like what I said was everything he's always wanted to hear. It's so lewd, so perverted and I absolutely will never forget this moment.

One of his hands lets go of my ass, trailing down my thigh again but moving to the inside this time. As his teeth gently nip at my clit and his tongue laps at my pussy, the tips of his fingers press against my opening, a silent request for more of my profession of hatred. A profession I'm more than happy to give him.

"I can't imagine how much I'll hate the way you fuck me just because I know it'll be better than any sex I've had before," I tell him, watching his mouth move against my cunt with furrowed brows and my lips parted in intrigue. Oh, he's so good at what he does.

Sal's eyes meet mine again. Eye contact with him when he's in such an erotic position is incredibly intense. I feel like my entire body is going to crumple before he can finish me off and it all counts on if he's able to hold me up or not. But as soon as his cerulean gaze meets mine, two of his fingers sink into me. The action is slow, drawn out, and drags a nasty moan out of me in turn.

Sal whimpers against my pussy, taking care of me like he promised he would. When his fingers reach as far as they can go, he curls them, causing me to flinch at the sensuous feeling. There's so much going on to the point that every inch of my body feels impossibly overwhelmed.

My sensitive clit gets sucked into Sal's mouth again, but then he pulls away. His fingers make up for the absence of his tongue, pounding into me in the same salacious way he's done before.

"Is that all you've got?" he grumbles breathlessly, glazed eyes glaring into mine. This is the expression I'm used to with him-- anger and dominance.

I choke on the breath I try to take, my thighs pressing into his neck as his fingers slam in and out of my soaked cunt, digits only pausing their relentless pace to curl into me. I try to fight against my one working brain cell, try to form words for him, but-- "I can't." is all that I'm able to create, the two short words coming out as an imploring cry.

Sal stands, finger-fucking me into an alternate dimension. He hovers over me, his hair brushing my shoulders and neck. I watch him, an absolute mess beneath him but I can't look away-- even through the panting breaths that morph into whimpers and moans.

His eyes glance between mine, seemingly contemplating something in that meticulous mind of his.

"Yea, you can, gorgeous," he grinds out behind clenched teeth, using the hand that's gripping my ass to press me against his chest. Our even closer proximity somehow forces his fingers deeper into my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Tell me more." My mouth is dry, I'm going to cum soon, and hopefully I don't actually fall over before that.

Sal takes a page out of my book, leaning closer to me and nipping at the skin of my throat. A little gasp falls past my lips and I finally let go of his hair, dragging my hand down to his neck. Those fingers work me to the core, never ceasing their movements and pushing into me with so much perfectly applied force.

His mouth moves along the side of my neck, his lips still wet from my juices. I have no idea what gave him the confidence, but I'm not mad. Everything that couldn't be done with his prosthetic can be done now and he's taking advantage of it. "Speak," he snaps, tone not so gentle or comforting like it was when this first began. "Or else."

My mind is blank. "I'm about to cum," I begrudgingly whisper, completely overtaken by his fingers thrusting into me and his thumb focused on my oversensitive clit.

I shut my eyes, my free arm wrapping around his shoulders. Every inch of my body is tense, senses heightened and alert. I don't think I can possibly hold on any longer-- I doubt Sal needed my confirmation to tell that I'm close.

His digits curl into me again, repeating the action. I follow up with a loud whimper, my nails digging into the skin of his neck as he sucks on the skin behind my ear. I wish he'd have ditched the prosthetic sooner because I've really been missing out.

The hand still gripping onto my butt retreats to my stomach, fingers disappearing under my shirt and crawling across my ribs to my bra. He treats it as if it isn't even there, hand easily dipping beneath the fabric. His palm envelops my breast, squeezing gently and massaging the skin. It's such a considerate touch compared to the way he treats the rest of my body-- he knows exactly where the sweet spots are.

"Cum," he commands, lips brushing the shell of my ear and fingers pounding into my sore cunt, thumb running over my hardened nipple.

My head drops onto his shoulder and with one more curl of his fingers, I do as he says and fall apart in his arms. I burst almost instantly, doing anything to keep myself silent over the feeling of his fingers gently caressing the inside of my pussy, riding me through my orgasm just like he did the first time. My teeth sink into his shoulder, a muffled whimper following soon after. Sal tenses up in my arms, a pleasured breath falling from his mouth and fanning over the side of my neck.

"Good girl," he purrs into my ear, lips skimming over the warm skin at my throat. He leaves one more sloppy kiss to my neck then pulls away to look into my eyes again. I can hardly hear anything he says as my teeth are forced away from his shoulder, still reeling from the orgasm that slammed into me nearly unannounced. My limbs feel like jelly as chills run up my spine. "You listen to me so well," he continues. I can't even look into his eyes; I just watch the way his lips move. How his tongue presses into the back of his teeth to pronounce a syllable. His sharp canines that undoubtedly left their own bruises on my skin.

I gulp, unable to peel my eyes away from the mouth that masterfully brought me to climax. For the first time ever, I wonder what his mouth would feel like against mine. How soft his scarred lips would feel, not on my skin, but captured by my own. What his tongue would taste like. What his teeth would feel like nipping at my lips.

Sal doesn't move away from me-- keeps our close proximity with his nose nearly brushing my mask's. He slowly, delicately pulls his fingers out of me but only continues to gaze into my eyes.

This is dangerous territory. Very dangerous. Because the impossible is coursing through me right now and I... somehow can't find it in me to hate him in this exact moment.

But then he blinks. Stands to his full height, moving away from me. His azure gaze turns to the desk I'm sitting on and he grabs my panties, offering them to me. Not an ounce of emotion evident on his face. I'd always wondered what he'd look like simply because I was curious if his face gave away his emotions better than his eyes could. It's pretty impressive how he's able to keep a straight mug though, RBF and all. Especially when he lifts the hand he fingered me with to his mouth and licks my cum off. He doesn't even look at me as his tongue runs up the length of his digit, just turns away from me and walks to the other side of the room.

I'm floored, jaw dropped and pussy wet. Again. That's really fucking hot.

I watch him strut away, follow his movements as he drops to his haunches and opens up his suitcase with his clean hand. He grabs something then faces me again, beginning to walk back with a finger still in his mouth.

My chest tightens at the sight. He can't be doing this to me. Not when Larry is going to be home any minute-- he needs to keep both his hands at his sides.

Thankfully, Sal has some mercy on me and finally finishes cleaning his fingers, eyes darting up to mine again. He walks up to me, right where I'm still sitting on top of his desk and drops fabric onto my bare thighs.

My brows furrow and I look down, grabbing lace. I lift it up, unfolding it to see that it's a near replica of the lace underwear he'd ripped off of me in Vegas. Only it's a completely brand new pair. No rips, no issues. My heart swells a bit at the gesture-- he bought a new pair like I'd told him to. I wasn't even serious, but he did it anyway.

I puff out my cheeks, contemplating what to say. Thank you's are virtually nonexistent between us. My eyes flit up to meet his again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets, watching me.

"You taste good," he nonchalantly comments, causing an infuriating blush to heat my cheeks.

"Thanks," I murmur, holding up the lace panties to show that I'm thankful for them too. "You taste pretty good too." He does. I'll have to return the favor to him when I get the chance.

A barely audible snort comes from him and I almost smile.

"I'd fuck you, but Larry will be back any minute and Ash probably isn't far behind him," he says, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. "I suggest you put your clothes back on. Panties are clean, I washed them."

My eyebrows raise and I pinch my lips together. Huh. "How kind of you," I say half sarcastically. Only half because it's helpful that they are clean-- it's almost like he knew he'd place me in a predicament where I needed fresh underwear. "You trying to kick me out?" I add. Of course he is, I'm just trying to make my way out of here as awkward-less as possible.

"Hell yea," he says proudly, "I have shit to do."

"Are you calling me a distraction?" I ask, looking toward him as I shimmy my underwear and shorts up my legs then start working on the button.

Sal tilts his head, hand on the doorknob. "And a mild aggravation."

"Oh, wow," I gasp, feigning surprise. "Mild? I must be working my way onto your good side."

"Fuck me good enough and we'll see how far you get," he replies, eyes watching my every move but face still unreadable as I begin walking toward him.

I roll my eyes. Of course. I pinch my lips together and give him a disinterested look. This is my lesson to never try to have a casual conversation with him again. He clearly doesn't want it, which, fair. Our agreement is sex, not friendship. "Okay," I say dramatically when he opens the door for me. "Bye, Sal."

The man nods his head, acknowledging the shift in the room. His eyes stay glued to mine like they have been the entire time I've been here. Now that I'm not distracted by his mouth on my pussy, I realize that this is an odd thing for him to do. He looks at me every once in a while, but not in such a... scrutinizing way.

He purses his lips and says, "Bye, y/n."

Every nerve-ending in my body suddenly shuts off. Everything is still. I have no thoughts for a moment, no physical reaction. Just stillness. I don't breathe, I don't move. I just watch him.

There's no way— he has to have mixed up my names. It has to be that.

And then everything hits me. Sal Fisher just said my name. And not the fake one that I've been hiding behind. He said my actual name— the one that's on my birth certificate. And now my hands are shaking, my heart is racing, my breaths are uneven, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"What the fuck," I say shakily. I'm not ready for this. I'm going to completely switch his thought process around-- "did you just say?"

The look in his eyes changes, they light up a bit as if he's caught me. And still he decides to mess with me. "Huh?" he innocently asks.

Okay, I'd really like to wake up now.

My eyes narrow. So that's the game he wants to play? This isn't the time and I don't have the mental capacity to handle this. Not only am I recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm, but I was just getting over the overwhelming anxiety I suffered from yesterday.

"I'm not y/n, if that's what you're thinking," I rush to tell him, even adding in the fakest little smirk I've ever slapped onto my face. Anything to get him off my tail, whatever I can think of to save my ass. This really can't be happening to me.

He's still watching me speculatively and it's making my brain itch. "You know," he finally starts, voice disgustingly pleased. "I went out on a limb with that one." I watch in horror as a little smirk begins to grow on his face. I don't want to accept it yet, I really don't, but I think I'm fucked and not physically.

At the end of the day, he's still managed to fuck me in multiple ways. I cannot stand Sal Fisher.

"What are you even talking about?" I ask him, clearing my throat quietly while taking a safe step out of his door and into the living room. I try my best to keep my eyes on him while extinguishing the fear from my gaze. If I act horrified, he'll sniff me out instantly. That is, if he hasn't already.

Sal chuckles deeply— it's, shockingly, an amused and prideful one rather than something sick, dark, and twisted. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I try my best not to adore the way his scars stretch with his laugh and the sight of his pretty teeth. "Any other woman would have assumed I was sleeping with someone else if I called them by another name," he says lightheartedly, tilting his head down a bit. "But you didn't. And that can only mean that I'm right."

I open my mouth to decline, fear thrumming through me. He caught me red handed. I can't fucking believe this.

"And don't try to deny it, you won't change my mind. I've been very sure of who you are for months now."

My head slowly begins to shake of its own accord. He never fails to shock me. "How..."

Sal shrugs. "You couldn't have timed your introduction more horrendously. Think about it," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. "I bitch at y/n over a phone call, then the next day, a wild VioletViolence pops into my life and isn't too surprised by my shitty personality. The second you were added to the Discord server, I had my suspicions." He shrugs nonchalantly, like the confirmation doesn't bother him in the slightest. "I talked it over with Larry and Todd too. They're pretty sure of your identity as well. They were just nice enough to wait for you to tell us on your own." His eyes narrow, sly like a fox. "But I'm not nice and wanted to know for myself. Wanted to scare you a bit too."

I swallow over the bile rising in my throat. Scare me, he did. I have no idea what to do with myself. I must look like a deer in headlights nearing its death sentence. "It... it doesn't bother you?" I decide to ask in a small voice, unable to blink as I watch him closely.

That same smug little smile is still lighting up his marred face as he says, "Regardless, I still can't stand you and I'll still fuck you stupid."

-----------

A/N::::::: OMFFGGGGG I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR AGESSSSSS PLEASE!!! more specifically the end of it! i've had this last scene written since like... 2022 o_O

i want to give a HUGE thanks to my very good friend, Phoebe, who inspired me to write the catalyst of the smut scene with this AMAZING piece of art that they drew :3 i am soooo so grateful for having the opportunity to see the art in general, but getting to write it too??? OMG so incredibly grateful <33

side note: this is my first time writing a smut scene like this one-- well, actually any time i write a different kind of sex it's new for me LMFAO i am exploring EVERYTHINGGGG and i also have no idea if this is any good. so like last chapter, if y'all could give me some tips or things you like and didn't like, i would GREATLY appreciate it :3

i'm going catch up on my neglected homework. as always, have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night. my heart belongs to all of you <3

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #smut

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southernbluebellereader · 2 years ago

Note

here’s something to look forward to for when u get back after ur busy weekend

i don’t normally request ghost or könig but something about big scary men being at ur mercy has me on my knees

but like imagine ghost or könig with an anal vibrator and just begging u touch them, overstimulated and all

this is just pure filth so ima keep it anonymous this time round lmaoo

You're So Good To Me

A/N: OMG BESTIE??? You got me on the edge of my seat. I hope I don't disappoint. I'm gonna do both König and Ghost, they'll be a little shorter, but I think you'll like them.

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Reader

König x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW. vibrator. Switch. Master List (Tag List at the bottom)

[18+] [RATED M FOR MATURE] [MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

Now, it took a long time in order for you to convince Simon to even have toys be used on him.

On you? He's all for it. But just know, he puts a lot of trust in you to allow you to use any toys on him.

But you start nice and easy - especially since you taking charge this time was his idea

The two of you had gone to your favorite sex shop and found a little black vibrator that he held up for you for approval. He didn't have to use his words in order to ask you if you wanted him to use it on him. You gleefully accepted and told him you'd take care of him.

It was a special night. Simon would put a different kind of trust in you that he'd never be able to put in anyone else.

The both of you took the time to set up your bedroom with candles, you put lavender and rose essential oils in your humidifier, and soft music.

For a while, you and Simon made soft and deep love. He made long and deep strokes inside you, relishing in your moans and groans escaping your mouth.

Soon after, he took a hold of the small black vibrator, seeking your approval. You spoke softly and guided him, leading him and giving him directions to lay down on his back with his legs spread.

You situated yourself between his legs and touched him gently, and softly, and deeply as you spoke softly to him, encouraging him, praising him.

"You're doing so well for me, Simon. I'm going to use lube, ok? Please let me know if you feel uncomfortable." He nodded in approval, encouraging you to continue as you with flushed cheeks.

Once your hands were covered in lube, you held the vibrator in one hand, and gently prepped his hole, earning glorious sounds and deep breaths from your beloved.

You internally relished in the sounds he made, making you even more excited, but you wanted to take things slow.

As you prepared hole, you turned the vibrator on the lowest setting.

"Simon, baby, you're doing so well. Are you ready, baby?"

"Y-Yeah-" Simon nodded eagerly and gripped the sheets surrounding him.

"You're such a good boy, Simon, here we go," You cooed at him as you placed the vibrator right at the entrance of his hole, smiling gleefully in excitement as he began squirming - glorious sounds of moaning and grunts escaping his breath as he tensed up and arched his back.

Poor Simon, you'd only just begun.

König

Oh, König, your sweet boy.

König is definitely more receptive to using toys earlier on in your relationship compared to Ghost.

But he never had a vibrator be used on him before, it was always used on you.

UNITL, he was looking for something and he opened up the drawer of your nightstand that kept all your toys. Smiling sheepishly, he picked up the small dark purple vibrator and simply held it in his hands.

He couldn't deny his curiosity and sat on y'all's shared bed, simply holding and feeling the vibrator, pressing the buttons several times for the different speeds. he'd forgotten what he was looking for.

He nearly jumped when you called out to him from the doorway: "Baby are you ok?"

He turned around, blushing, with the vibrator on the lowest setting in hand.

You chuckled as you approached him, standing in between his legs as you put your hands over his hands that were holding the vibrator, "You want me to use this on you?"

Turning even more red, Kônig swallowed hard as he kept his eyes on you.

You smiled gently and nodded, "It's ok if you want to, König. I'll be gentle."

"Y/N..." Before he could finish, your lips were already attached to his lips, then his jaw and neck.

Oh, God, how was he to deny you? He placed the vibrator on the bed and held you close to him as you continued to pepper him with deep kisses, leaving marks on his neck and collarbones.

Soon, both of y'all's clothes were shed and the sheets of your bed were all over the bed.

You asking - demanding - him to do things made him more excited. He loved having you in charge.

You had him on all fours on the bed, ass in the air, head and arms resting on a few pillows.

You situated yourself behind him and rubbed his lower back and hips as you cooed at him, "You're doing so well for me, my König. I'll be so very gentle, I promise, my baby boy."

God, you loved seeing him being such a mess for you. Only you had been able to tame the great König. And here he was, his ass presented to you to be plugged up.

You continued to coo at him, and praise him as you covered his hole in lube, earning glorious grunts and moans from him - it was music to your ears..

After prepping him with lube and two of your fingers, you cupped his balls gently with one hand, and turned on the bullet vibrator with the other on to the lowest setting, "Are you ready, my love? We're going to go slow and steady."

He nodded and kept his eyes on you, his eyes glossed over, cheeks flushed in pleasure and ready to ensure that he did so very well for you.

You gently placed the vibrating bullet at his entrance and slowly pushed it, earning the most delicious moans and groans.

This day was going to be long and filled with pleasure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat @kult6 @loadedberetta @sarahs-secrets2 @whore4dilfs @addy3114 @ollie71526483 @blueoorchid

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

Note

feel free to imagine a sexy interpretation. Also, I'm going to add a loss of virginity here just for fun. In this scenario, Dream is finally willing to admit to himself that he loves the reader, but he's still not willing to confess (and he's also still a possessive/obsessive jerk), so instead he chases after the woman's dreams, especially until even your wet dreams. And 2 possible catalysts here, either Dream sees that the reader is dreaming about having sex with someone else and becomes insanely jealous or he sees someone flirting with the reader in the waking world and becomes insanely jealous XD. This is so Dream, like a king, he feels entitled to the reader and his time, and while he's trying to work up the courage to confess, he makes sure the reader can't hook up with anyone else.

Petty And Yours

Dream of the Endless x Demon Hunter!Reader

Summary: Somnium Regem, the Dream King, felt a certain kinship to the bondservants of his sister Domina, the Lady, or in the words of the king, older sister, Death. This was because of how closely the family of demon hunters has interacted with the Endless throughout generations. There was a particular member of this family he had a soft spot for, not that he'd ever admit it out loud, unless coaxed.

Word Count: 9k+💀 (why cant i ever just make them fuck and be done with it?)

Warnings: Fem!reader, smut (virgin!reader, biting marking, fingering, oral [f receiving], hair pulling, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, praise kink), Set in the Roman middle ages, dream being stupid, reader being stupid, jealous/possessive!dream, reader, fluff, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: OMG YES. MINORS DNI (the smut is at the end) Let go nonnie we love petty, possessive and pathetic dream UGH <3 also I really enjoyed this universe I made with demon hunter!reader, and i usually don't make p2s for my work, but im giving her at least this because she deserves it and i love her. ok isnt actually a p2, its more of a prequel in fact, so you dont have to read the other demon hunter fic i made, but if you do youre gonna be like OMG SLAY that makes more sense now. also, smut after smut for this reader, get it bestie HAHHA HELP THIS REACHED 8k WTF And just in case its not clear, theyre speaking latin in this but like i only put a few latin passages cos i have no idea if its even right lol HAHAHH this gif of him T_T he's so emo sir calm yourself T_T Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 @sloanexx @julesandro @farintonorth Previous demon hunter!reader fic: "Caged"

With my thick skirt and cloak gathered in my hands, I stop at the edge of the street, waiting for the donkey cart to pass me.

I release a huff, impatiently, though I end up finding myself smiling at the old man who greets me while he urges his ride to quicken its pace. Once he has passed, I finally move to cross.

I hiss when a bunch of children carelessly run past me. I eye them and call out, "vigilate quo itis!"

Watch where you're going!

"Children," I mutter in Latin under my breath, as I quickly make my down the townsquare.

I run up a flight of marble stairs and huff when I reach the temple at the top. I push one of the massive doors open, and the sound of it echoes in the grand room.

I close the door and call out, "mater?"

I wait. Nothing. I call out again.

When I finally hear my name, I turn and see it was my mother but my brother calling for me. Grin in excitement, not expecting his prescience. I run over to the man who was three years my senior, smiling from ear to ear, arms out stretched.

I jump into his arms. We seal each other in a tight embrace.

"Cassian," I chuckle airily, "it's been nearly two decades."

He hums, "yes, little sister. I've missed you dearly."

I pull away from him and cups his cheeks. I smile at the sight of his face, looking no older than the age of 25, like the rest of us siblings, though we were all on this earth for more that 50 years.

"Where is mother?" I ask.

Cassian grabs my hands, "Domina est ad loquentes."

She is talking with The Lady.

"The Lady is here?" I tilt my head and perk at the idea.

"Apud Somnium Regem."

"With the Dream King!?" I gasp, "oh come on brother, we must meet them at once!"

Cassian laughs as I tug at his arm in excitement.

He and I rush off to where Domina and Somnia were, recounting random stories that we could think of along the way. The moment I spot the two, conversing with my grey haired mother, I release my grip on Cassian and run towards them.

My mother catches me and chuckles, calling out my name in greeting as she opens her arms out to me from the windowsill she was sat upon.

Once upon her, I envelope her in my arms, kissing her cheeks repeatedly.

"Ah, my sweet girl," my mother coos in my mother tongue, "you act as though you did not see me a month ago."

I pull away from her, shaking my head, "I would react the same way even if I saw you yesterday, mater."

She smiles, placing a kiss on my forehead before I turn to the two Endless siblings.

"Domina," I smile, leaning in for an embrace, kissing both cheeks of the dark skinned woman. She chuckles and reciprocates.

"Somnia," I bow my head at the pale man. He smiles and mimics me, and he extends his palm out for me to take. When I do, he kisses the back of my hand.

I chew on the inside of my lower lip, holding back a smile as I pull my hand away.

"Praise to the Lady, Praise to the Dream Lord," Cassian calls when he finally reaches us. My brother takes his time showing his respects to the siblings, then after, kisses our mother's cheeks in regard.

"You finally thought to visit your mother, boy," she says, narrowing her eyes at her second child, "your older sister, Aurelia, might be travelling Constantinople but she oft sends me letters, as do your younger brothers, Amias and Lucius."

I nudge Cassian to further egg him on, and he quickly eyes me in response, though only addresses our mother, "pardon your son, mater. I am here this day, however, to bring you glad tidings."

I perk and raise my brows at his words, "did you capture the archdemon you were tracking?"

Cassian turns to me, brows tensing before relaxing, "no."

"Did you find the Shadow Master?" my mother asks.

"No, mater," he replies, shaking his head, "I..."

My eyes widen at Cassian's hesitation. He was not one to trail off with his worlds or fall flat with them.

"I have a bride," Cassian huffs, lowering his gaze before turning back to our mother with a soft smile.

My jaw drops, my blood stills.

Cassian straightens himself up, "she is Veronica. Her face is brighter than the morning light, and is as temperate and kind as the Lady," he turns to Death when he says this.

I shake my head in disbelief. I turn to my mother who does not look nearly as shocked as I do.

"She carries my child."

A shiver runs down my spine. I recoil at the sight of my brother.

I watch in horror as my mother stands and pouts at her second born, exclaiming, "lauda dominae! My son has come home to me with a family of his own."

I turn to The Lady, who my mother just exclaimed praise to. My face contorts at the happiness written on her face. It was the sight of her brother, Dream's, face that makes me realize this was all really happening. I then watch as my mother stands and walks towards Cassian, sealing him in a tight embrace.

I shake my head at the misplaced affection, "mater, how can this news please you? He is only halfway through a hundred!"

Mater turns to me, eyes taking in my worried and hurt expression.

Cassian sighs, reaching his hand out to me. I evade him, swatting his hand away, "proditor."

Traitor.

My mother calls out my name. I look at her expression and find tears lacing my eyes. She was looking like this at me?

"Sister, please, I-"

"We all promised each other we'd have our own families after a century!" I exclaim, walking away, "and you! You!" I point, "you've betrayed all of us!"

My name is called again, this time both by my older brother and my mother.

"Mater fuit per se propter hoc!" I whine, "and you dare tell her this in the name of glad tidings?"

I am glad I did not choke when I spoke, 'mother lived by herself because of this.' I normally could not bare to recall the stories my mother had after evoking the Right of the Lonely, the right in which the a person from our line would not die because it would kill off the last remaining demon hunters in existence. I could not even stomach the idea of living out a hundred years without companionship.

When Domina calls out to me, I freeze. I watch as she walks closer, reaching out to me to offer me comfort only she was every capable of. But then Cassian calls my name and I'm betrayed all over again.

And so I run. I run out of the temple and lose myself in the city.

If it was so easy for Cassian to betray the promise we swore as siblings not to partake in the world only until after completing our generational burden, then I would do it too!

After all, I laugh to myself as I weave through shady crowds of people in the market place, servicing the earth as a demon hunter for one century was easy, right?!

If the previous generations could do it, I could do it!

If Cassian, who used to be so slow at picking up demon trails, could be so sure he could have a child while continuing service, then by The Lady, I could do it too.

I gasp when I ram into a solid object. When I recoil after collision and do not fall back, I realize it was because my form was being hoisted up by a dark clothed being.

He speaks out my name and the sound finally pushes me into tears.

"Somnia," I whine, gripping his arms tightly.

My lips quiver in despair. I throw my arms over his shoulders, breaking into a sob.

The next thing I know, I am being pushed back and my calves hit something behind me.

I do not wonder what or do not wonder why I am all of a sudden out of the streets. I know it was the Dream Lord's power that brought us here, here in my bedroom. I sit on the end of my cott, beside the King of Dreams, clutching his hands tightly.

"Where were you to go?" he asks, retrieving his one hand from me to wipe off the tears on my cheeks.

I shake my head as I turn to my hands, my hands that were squeezing his large one as though my life depended on it, "nowhere... any where..." I sigh, "somewhere to spite my brother."

He does not retort.

I release him and sling myself back. I crash against my semi-soft cushion, "I curse his existence."

He speaks my name softly.

I close my eyes and feel tears roll down my temples.

Dream of the Endless does not speak to me, does not offer advice, does not analyse the situation for me, and for that, I am always grateful.

I sniffle, reaching out to him without looking, "lie with me?"

Silently, aside from the sound of him shuffling, he takes my hand and lies beside me. My bed is not that large, and so it was a bit cramp. I don't mind though, I know he doesn't either.

I roll on my side, stretching my arm under my head as I turn to him. I blink as he turns to me, body still rigid on his back.

"I do not want to forgive him."

Dream is silent.

I sigh, moving to press my body against his, check pressing onto his chest. The thump of his heart is slow and steady. His arm comes over my back. I feel another wave of tears threaten to crash down on me as I think, "does that make me a bad person?"

He rubs my shoulder, "no."

I sob into his top, trying to hold back my tears, "what does it make me then?"

"Human."

I take a moment to reply as I calm myself from crying. I turn my head to face him, blinking away salt water, "is it easy for an Endless to forgive?"

I see him close his eyes, "no."

"What does that make you?"

"Petty."

I snort at his words.

He opens his eyes and cranes his neck up. He brushes my hair back and hushes me, "I am here. You needn't ever fear living through the same loneliness your mother did."

I smile softly at his words, pushing myself off him so I could sit by his side. I look down on the man, the man who wasn't, but was sweeter and more thoughtful than any man I had ever met.

I trace the curve of his nose, "would you wait five decades for me?"

He takes my hand in his before I could fully pull away from his face. He proceeds to sit up and press my palm on his chest, "I would wait eons for you."

I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head as I did so, "I don't think I'll live that long."

He does not respond to this, and instead helps me slide to his lap when I shift in my place.

I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder, allowing myself to relax against him.

I brush my nose against his neck and close my eyes, lulling myself into comfort. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer.

Dream smells like a field of flowers, like a warm fire, like perhaps what the stars did.

I shift on him, slowly opening my eyes. I take his cheeks in my hands and lick my lips. I feel my heart thundering in my chest when I lean into him. And then-

I tilt my head up bringing my lips to his, but I don't.

I start when he pushes me away.

He looks at me, somehow bewildered by my actions.

I knit my brows, feeling a bit caught off guard and confused, "what's wrong?"

He speaks my name slowly, arms loosening around me, "I... will always be here for you... but not like this. I cannot give you my heart."

My face contorts at his words. I shake my head, "you cannot give your heart?" I repeat incredulously, "but, my king... you already have."

He pulls his arms away from me. He all, of a sudden, cannot meet my gaze.

I stiffen against him, clenching my jaw as I roughly push myself off him. My nostrils flare in anger and my eyes begin to water. I heave, "why are you here then?"

Somnia keeps his eyes down.

I cannot believe this, "do you not know why you constantly come to me, my lord?"

He, still says nothing.

"Why do you constantly comfort me then?!" I seethe, pointing an accusing finger at him, "why are you even here, if you-" I choke on my words, almost as though my own mouth was not willing to admit this, "-cannot give me your heart? If you think you have not given it to me at all?"

He stands from the bed.

I walk back in response.

"Dilectus-"

"Don't call me that," I quip waving him off, "don't call me your beloved! Not when you claim you don't love me."

He speaks my name.

"What? Have you been leading me on? Have you been passing your time with me because I have not yet aged?!"

"That is not-"

"THEN WHY!" I cry out as my cheeks grow cold and hot all over again because of my tears. I shake my head as I walk all the way back until I could reach my door, "why can't you admit that you love me when I so clearly bleed out my love for you?"

He freezes at my words.

Was he only now realizing this? After everything?

I open the door slowly from behind me.

Somnium Regem is unable to say a word.

I roughly wipe my face, "behold," I scoff, "now I see you are just like any other man."

I turn on my heels and rip the door open, thinking of a place far, far, away as I did. When I hear him call out to me, I slam the door on my way out.

I am gone. I have transported myself away.

I find myself in an army hotspot, where dozens upon dozens of eager, hotblooded men where thirsting at the very idea of companionship, no matter how shallow it posed.

I walked like a regular though it was my first time here. I brazenly sit myself in a table of eight soldiers, looking between them with a bored look, "salvete, milites," I grab the cup of the man beside me, downing the wine in one go. My throat burns at the sour taste and I grunt as I slam the wooden object on the table. I push the cup forward, looking at no one in particular, pulling my lips into a lopsided grin, "et quis ex vobis effundam mihi potum?"

Greetings, soldiers. Will any of you pour me a drink?

The next moment, each man on the table fights to get the ewer of wine.

The moment after that is spent debating my prospects with each Roman militant. One by one, I flirt with them, tease them with my touches and my giggles, taking each one to dance to the muses of a bard and his company.

In the end, the winner, if I could even call him that, was the eldest in the bunch, Fabius. He was still only 27 but the fact he went from Africa and back with the scars to prove it was enough reason for me to choose him.

The perfect criminal to commit a perfect crime with.

Fabius smile as he dances with me, expertly on beat with the lute and the drums.

I'll show them all. I'll show them how I could go against them and break my oaths to everyone, to my family, to the one my heart called for, to myself.

Fabius would do. I would take him and make him mine for the night, or how many nights it would take for my body to bare his seed of mine of vindication.

This soldier was not nice, he was not smart, in fact, he was only rugged. I could tell that all the kindness he extended to me now was only out of his desire to share my bed. It was good enough, considering it was all I wanted or expected from him. And yet he was redeemed by how strong, shrewd, and, most of all, easy on the eyes he was. If he could not give my child compassion and wit, he would at least give his strong nose, soft lips and a warriors stamina.

I pull him near me just when the song ends. He captures me against him and leans down. I whisper on his ear, "would you like to take me home, Fabius?"

Fabius pulls back in disbelief. It is fleeting. He growls and grabs me by the waist, "I'd like to keep you home for the rest of my life."

I feel blood rise up my face at his proposal. I chew on my lower lip and release it from my teeth when he leans in to kiss me.

He is eager and hungry against me. He kisses me with fervor because he wants too, because his body burns in desire for me. He tastes sour, yet again is redeemed by how good he was at kissing.

I could see it now, our disaster. For every wrong he'd do me, he'd have one good thing to show for. It would be an endless cycle of tribulation, and in this moment, the idea of it shined like the stars.

I release a whine when I feel his hands move down to my bottom. This was about as far as I had gone with everyone, and in the next few hours, that would all change.

But suddenly, my head is spinning, utterly confused as to why he pulled away so harshly from me right when I thought he'd whisper the words in my ear.

I only realize what had happened when I see a dark figure faced back away from, sputtering Latin tightly against Fabius.

"Somnia!" I hiss, grabbing his arm, "what do you think you're doing?!"

I tense when he turns to me. I see both the Roman shoulder, toppled on his arse, crawling back in fear, and the blazing eyes of the Dream Lord. His face was truly a fearsome sight to those caught his gaze.

He takes advantage of my stunned state and grabs my arms, pushing me back.

All at once, I find I am pressed against a something, something soft. Dream's ferocious face softens as I am trapped against him, or I then realized, I was trapped beneath him.

No longer did the sour smell of wine tingle my nostrils. In fact, it now smelt like a morning breeze, like a flowery meadow, it smelt like him.

I was now in the Dreaming.

"You are more foolishly impulsive than I could have ever thought," the Dream Lord growls.

I grit my teeth, screwing my eyes shut, not giving him the satisfaction of a response.

"You think you can ignore me?" he quips, "you are in my house, my domain, my Dreaming, pinned under the palms of my hands."

I mask the way my body begins to react to his words, how my throat tightens, how my breath grows taxed, how my belly swirls, and how my thighs press against each other.

"Face me, demon hunter."

"Let me go," I weakly demand.

"I will not set you free after seeing what you meant to do to yourself."

I begin to fume, "Let me go!"

I open my eyes and wrangle beneath him, kicking and pushing him. I then dictate a long spiel of Latin cusses. My whole body burns in fury.

I am powerless against him though. He does not strain where I struggle. He pushes his weight onto me, hands trapping my wrists by the sides of my head, legs clamping mine between his. My face was now also turned to the side as he leaned into me, his hot breath practically searing the skin on my cheek.

Somnia mumbles, "you would give yourself away to a mere mortal on the street? A man who ogles your form, who could not possibly understand the honor you would so willingly bequeath him. His thoughts run wild with ideas of desecrating your being in a vile form taking his claim on you."

"Oh, and suddenly you care?!" I snarl, knocking my head into his, making him pull back in contact, "what does it matter if I chose to be with him? Or even if I chose the devil? The master of demons?! You do not love me."

He calls my name.

"YOU SAID IT YOURSE-"

"I WAS WRONG!" he bursts. His outburst leaves him breathless and stiffens me into marble.

I choke on nothing and feel my eyes water at the sight of him. His hair is messy, eyes are desperate, lips are quivering. He breaks when my tears begin to fall. He pulls away from me, sitting himself at the edge of his bed in defeat, in retreat.

I breathe in heavily, trying to calm myself down, "it took seeing me with another man to own up to your feelings."

He does not respond.

"Do you think I find that flattering?" I voice, "do you?!"

Again nothing.

"I find it petulant and slow-witted." I release a breath, "I find it offensively aggravating."

I push myself up from where I laid. I turn to the window, lips parting at the beauty of the meadows I knew he called Fiddler's Green. Never had I witnessed his domain like this, never before this moment had I ever even been here with him, flesh and bone.

And yet I tell myself not to enjoy the moment so much. I suck in a breath and scratch my tears away, turning to Dream's wide and hunched over back.

"Bring be back, Somnia," I mutter.

He straightens upon hearing this, head barely turning as he speaks, "what?"

I scoff, in utter disbelief that he is in shock of my words, "I do not want to be around you." I move to the foot of the bed then stand, "take me back home."

Dream looks at me, eyes reddish and glimmering with tears. He opens his mouth and speaks something but I do not hear it.

I huff through my nose, "take me back now, Dream. Or- or I'll never speak to you again!"

I recoil when he crawls over to me on the bed. He sit as the edge, reaching out to me, grabbing on to clothes. He whispers my name as his face hardens in desperation, "I do not wish for you to leave while this is unresolved."

"So," I tighten my hands into balls, "if I leave you now, what does that make me?"

He looks up at me, jaw clenching then relaxing as he opens his mouth to speak, "cruel."

I scoff.

A tear rushes down his face.

"And if you keep me here?!" I coaxed.

He releases me, dropping his head as he leans onto his knees. He voices firmly, "an Endless."

My whole body tenses at his words, grows rigid in anger over his sentiment. I was seconds away from lunging at him, but suddenly, a flurry of sand began to twist around me and before I could think, I was back in my bedroom.

It became painfully clear to me that if either of us wanted to resolve our quarrel, we'd have to first resolve our pride.

It had been seven days since the fact, and neither did I call out to him, and neither did he make attempts to come to me.

That was that then. Good riddance. Good, hard, and cold riddance.

All that's left, of course, was the issue with my brother, and her... brimming with life bride.

The image I had of her was starkly contrast to what she actually was. I thought she would have been one or two months in her pregnancy. I really dropped dead when I spied my brother talking to a woman with such a large rounded belly that she looked like she was about to pop any moment now.

The audacity. The sheer and utter disrespect.

Today, I was going to finally face her because my two younger brothers, Amias and Lucius, were now here to do the same. Aurelia had arrived two days before, and as much as we both confided in each other our ill feeling towards the whole predicament, she was as tender as ever, and laced every complaint with an eagerness to make peace with the matter.

My older sister was wholly compassionate, as always, but my younger brothers were not, and I was excited to meet this Veronica, solely because of the knowledge I would finally not be the only one restless about the situation.

And yet, as excited I was to see Amias and Lucius, bickering at each other the moment they arrived, I was betrayed by how it seemed neither of them were fazed by the gravity of the predicament, in fact, they were-

"happy for you brother!" Amias laughs, "I'm so happy for you! Lauda dominae!" He slaps Cassian twice on the shoulder before sealing him into a tight hug, "I understand that your bride is carrying two babes."

I nearly choke on the bile in my throat upon hearing that. My jaw hangs low. That's why her belly was so big. I hiss under my breath, "two?"

Amias pulls away and raises his hands, "clearly it is a sign from Domina to have at least one of them named after," he slaps a hand on his chest, "Amias the Gallant."

Cassian makes a half amused face at second youngest.

The final born smacks Amias' face and takes his turn to embrace Cassian, "malediceres ipsum esse huius infantis."

Lucius pulls away from Cassian, who laughed at his words, to repeat them with pinched fingers, eyeing Amias as he did so, "you would be cursing the very existence of this child."

"Your face is a curse to the world," Amias rebuts in our mother tongue.

When the boys begin to bicker all over again, I finally snap, "so am I truly the only one that cannot stomach this?"

The three turn to me. I am the odd one out.

I hear someone call my name from behind. It's Aurelia with that woman, that Veronica that she was now treating more of a sister than I. Aurelia pulls away from her to walk over to me, "let us speak about this out-"

"No!" I dodge her advances. My senses begin to flare at the feel of my siblings staring at me. I heave heavily as I back away from them, "you've all confided in each other about this, haven't you? You and Cassian," I hiss at Aurelia, "and Amias and Lucius."

Cassian calls my name.

"NO!" I shriek, "it's always been like this. It's always you," I suck in a deep breath, "and then there's me. The spare."

"Sister, that is not true." Lucius calls.

I shake my head, chuckling bitterly, "you're right. It's only ever always in my head, is it not?"

Without another word, I storm out of the room, hating myself for the way I was breaking.

I hide myself in the garden, in a secret corner where I basked in my loneliness, except this time, I would truly be lonely all by myself.

Tinges of betrayal flare up in me when Veronica appears out of nowhere.

She starts at the sight of me. I scoff at her pretending to be shocked by my presence. She speaks, "sister, I-"

"I am not your sister," I quip, "did your beloved tell you to look for me here?! To make peace with me?!"

She tenses at the severity of my tone, hand instinctively going on her belly, "I swear it on my mother, I did not know this was your place. I happened to wander here while I was clearing my own mind and found great solitude in the flowers," she says, turning to the said blossoms coloring the otherwise colorless place.

"They remind me of home," she says, "we had plenty of gladioli in our neighborhood."

Veronica turns to me offering as soft smile that makes me want to scream, "I understand they were a gift form your pat-"

"If you want to see these flowers so badly, why not go back home where there are plenty?" I snip, "and take your traitor with you, why won't you?!"

She presses her lips together. Her lightly tanned skin turns a shade scarlet after my cry. She covers her face and nods, "apologies sis-" she cuts herself off, smacking her lips in the process, "I- I'll leave you to your own devices."

My eyes watch her walk off. And very suddenly, as if I am possessed, my voice calls out to her.

Veronica freezes, turning back to me.

What have I done? Why did I do that. I do not want to speak with her.

I turn away, unable to face her, unable to face myself, unable to admit I called her name because I was not enjoying the harshness I was emitting, the harshness I was sputtering to this poor woman who was not even to blame for my emotions.

I'm spiraling, clearly.

I lick my lips, feeling my chest tighten. I huff and shake my head, "I'm not angry at you."

I make the mistake of turning to her. She's just as distraught as I am. I see myself in her in this moment. I sigh helplessly, "I'm not angry-" I curse then sniffle, wiping my philtrum, "I'm not angry at your children."

I wipe my hand on my face, "I'm not even sure if I'm angry at Cassian. I-" I shake my head rapidly, "I'm frustrated that this marks the start of his final years with us. That's he's going to have to... pay... for not completing his hundred years of service."

Veronica visibly reacts to my words. She sighs deeply, rubbing her swollen belly, "I think of that as well. There has not been a day that I have not thought of that."

I deflate. Here and now, it was clear she understood, even if just a fraction, the severity this choice my brother made. If he does not complete a century of demon hunting, then his captives would drag him by his heels into the pits and battle them for a hundred years there.

I look at her as we both begin to cry. I pat the surface I was sat upon, "do you want to sit down?"

She is taken aback by my words. She nods slowly and walks over to sit down next to me.

For a moment, we sit in silence.

"When he told me he would risk his life for me, I did not realize he meant it," Veronica mutters, "not like this."

I am further dejected. I turn to her, feeling my insides get chewed up by the sight of her wailing.

"I at least find comfort in knowing that the love," she places he hands on her belly, "this love we share, here and now is the purest and realest thing I have every felt."

"But how do you know?" I quip on the defensive, "how could you say that so surely?"

It wasn't because I didn't believe her, it was more of the fact I was projecting my own disbelief of love onto her.

I feel a sliver of guilt bite at me for the way in which I spoke, but Veronica was wholly unfazed. In fact, she chuckles under her breath, "because I know him," she smiles, turning to her belly, "and he knows me." She smiles, "it makes no sense, and it's hard to understand, but-" she turns to my side, lips curved in a smile, "I suppose that is what love is like between a mortal and a demon hunter."

I give her a look. She's insane.

Veronica laughs, clutching her stomach, "perhaps I am."

My eyes widen. I said that out loud? "Veronica, I-"

"But is that not how you and your lover feel?"

"What?"

"Somnium Regem," she mutters, "he sits outside your bedroom every night." She places a hand on her chest, "when I managed to overcome my fear, I asked him what he was doing."

I straighten at her words.

"He told me he was waiting for you to notice him."

I scoff.

"That his pride could not allow him to open your door."

I roll my eyes and shake my head at the thought.

"Yet the same pride could not bear the idea of ever letting you go."

I clench my jaw. Damn him.

"Perhaps that is was the love between a demon hunter and a god is like," Veronica speaks, taking my hand in hers.

"He's not a god," I tell her through an airy whisper, "he is a fool."

And so later that night, when darkness cloaked the sky, I brushed my sleepiness away and rose from my bed.

I tiptoed to my door and slowly creaked it open, soundless. Behold.

I sigh at the sight of the dark figure sitting alone in the lightless hall.

"Do you plan to sit there for half a century?" I speak, actually making him jolt from his place.

Somnia turns to me, eyes wide, lips parted. He takes a moment before responding, drawing out a deep breath, "if that is how long it takes."

I roll my eyes at him, walking out of my bedroom all together.

Dream watches me near him. When I reach out my hand to him, he immediately takes it and stands.

"Is your pride so mighty that you would never risk calling to me?"

He sighs, "I punish myself with my pride. If you could not bare turn to me again, then I did not deserve you."

"Oh, you half-wit. What if," I take his both his palms in my, "I actually make you wait that long for me to forgive you."

He presses near me, releasing a breath, "then I would say it is deserved."

I snort, rolling my eyes for the second time, "alright then," I move away from him, "better start counting-"

"No, wait," he tightens his hold on me, "please don't."

I purse my lips, nodding my head, "hmm. That's what I thought."

The being releases a sigh and hangs his head low, "I apologize for how I acted. It is a struggle for me to accept such emotions, considering how they have served me in the end."

I release his hands to take his cheeks into my palms. I bring my face near, lips ghosting over his, "then how do you plan to make it up to me?"

He brushes his nose against mine, hands coming to my sides, "how would you like for me to make it up to you?"

"A kiss," I whisper, lips curving into a mischievous smile, "on your knees."

I don't have the opportunity to laugh at my childish remark, for his lips finally catch mine, stealing my giggles, my breath, and my remaining thoughts away. I ignite against him. A haze forms in my mind. My body pushes against him, wanting to be closer than I am now.

He is nothing but soft and sweet against me. His mouth is a tender oasis that makes my heart pound and my mind melt. He pushes me back against the walls and my body pulls him into me along the way.

I gasp when he breaks away. I watch as he drops down. I knit my brows at him when his hands grab my hips. I call out his name with caution. He smiles up at me as his one hand scratches its way up from my ankles to my thighs.

I jolt, attempting to pull away, finding I am trapped with the wall behind me.

Somnia coos my name out, "hush. I am only making it up to my beloved."

"What are-" I whine when he lifts my skirt up and throws it over him. I catch his head when he kisses my thigh, "Dream, please, I was mocking you. I-" I let out an unholy sound when he pushes me back and makes an attempt to bite the inside of my leg.

"I assure you," he hotly breathes against my skin, making my entire body tingle with goosebumps, "I will not stand for the mockery of a demon hunter."

I rip at his hair from underneath my skirts. I tense against him when he shifts me onto one leg. The other, where his lips were busy nipping at my skin, its hooks over his shoulder.

"Somnia," I lean into him, gasping for air. My stomach rolls at this obscene image of him beneath me, "someone could see."

The King of Nightmares scoffs. "They would sooner be haunted with nightmares for fifty years before they could even think of beholding your form like this," he hisses against my skin as his one hand squeezes my thigh.

I slap a hand onto my mouth when I feel his nose rub against my sensitive bud. I dig into his hair and garble up the sounds from my throat as his lips connect with my core. My toes curl and my body leans into him involuntarily.

"Dream," I breathlessly speak, moving my palm slightly off my mouth, "please, I-" the harsh sound that leaves me when he nibbles then blows against my heat would have been enough to make anyone who hears it look for the sound in concern.

"I will please you, my dear," he speaks, suddenly pulling away. When his face is revealed to me after my skirt finally drops down, I choke on my breath as the sight of his glistening face.

His tongue swirls around his lips while he stands.

I helplessly watch him as he takes my cheeks and raises a brow at me, "unless you would like for me to stop."

The very thought of asking him to do anything is mortifying to me, yet I managed to shake my head in response.

And normally, I would have been offended by how he chuckles at me like that, but when he drops down again, or rather, I find, crawls down, I only look at him in anticipation. I push myself up elbows and realize I was now lying on a bed, facing a window, beholding the view Fiddler's Green. I was also naked, exposed to him, looking down at an equally disrobed Dream.

My whole body burns.

I do nothing but watch as he takes both my legs and props them on his shoulders before sinking down the middle.

I grunt and tense in my place, averting my gaze when he kisses my center. One of my hands reach out to Dream's dark hair. I whine before ripping at my lower lip. I look down on him as he looks up at me.

"All is well," he affirms, lifting his head up slightly, making me pull my hand away from his hair. He kisses my hand on its way then smiles, "let me make it up to you, beloved." He rubs his cheeks against my inner thighs, placing a kiss there, "calm yourself," he mutters, "I assure you, I will make you very much enjoy this."

"My king," I breathlessly call.

He hums, lips curving upward, pleased by the sound, "let your king do his work."

I bite my lips and close my eyes as I nod. I allow myself to relax against the cushions, though my hands were gripping onto the sheets.

"Valde bona," very good, he says.

My fists tighten and my toes curl all over again when his lips kiss into my heat. This time around, I am painfully aware of the wetness that is pooling and beginning to drip down my flesh. The feeling conflicts me.

Almost as if he was aware of my realization, he laps at me and moans, "so honeyed and sweet. So eager and ready for me."

I huff at the feel of him.

"Do not needlessly worry yourself, your body is exactly how I want it."

With this, I find myself fulling relaxing. I arch my back, as his mouth presses more eagerly into me. I attempt to suppress my squeals when his tongue pushes into me. My hands immediately reach to him and my fingers curl into his hair.

He moans then chuckles. He makes it a point to do this against me as he parts my legs further when I begin to press them close. He calls out my name, making me turn to him slowly. Half of me regrets it, half of me goes wild at the sight of him.

The Dream Lord states, "I find offence in your attempts to suppress your noises. Do not conceal them."

I choke out a whine then his thumb rubs against my nub. I screw my eyes shut again as he continues, "perhaps you need more encouragement."

When he dips a finger into me, a guttural sound rips past my lips. I pull one hand away from him to clamp it on my mouth, but the growl I get in reaction makes me drop my it and turn back to Dream.

"You mock me further by disobeying me?" he huffs squeezing the flesh of by my buttocks tightly, "I should make sure the entire Dreaming hears you scream for its King."

He sinks into me again, only this time, there is a grit from his teeth. I rip at both his roots and mine when he does so, unable to conceal the noises that leave my mouth.

He slowly pumps in and out of me, "louder."

I whine and catch my breath, calling out his name in some sort of plea.

"Louder, I said," he commands as he sinks another digit into me and hastens his pace.

There was no way I could keep silent even if I wanted to at this point.

With his fingers, poking and curling, and his mouth, licking and sucking, it doesn't take long for a strong tension to coil up in my belly. My lips could barely make sense of the words it wanted to say. I fundamentally begin to sputter out nonsense.

"A little bit more," he moans, "give me a little bit- there."

I come undone on him with a cry. My legs force themselves against him as my body spasms. He does not make an effort to push me open, and in fact, he brings his hands on my hips, kneading at them, as if encouraging my actions.

In those tender, body curling moments, I feel warmth and pleasure spread around me. My breath escapes me as I eventually turn into putty.

When he finally pulls away, I turn down to him as he slowly trails wet and hot kisses from my core all the way up my jaw. I take his cheeks in my hands when he kisses my lips. My own cheeks tingle when I see the sheen of my pleasures on his nose and chin. I bashfully swipe at it with my thumb, eager to retreat. And yet, he catches my hand, taking my thumb into his mouth, licking at my finger then pulling it away with a soft pop.

"Well done, my love," he says, smiling at me as he rolls on his side.

I knit my brows as he lies beside me, pulling me near him as he does so that we could face each other.

Dream notices my demeanor. He pushes my hair back, raising a brow, "did I not make you enjoy it?"

My lips part. My face begins to burn at the thought, "no. No I mean yes- I mean- I- I enjoyed it."

He nods, "I know."

I snort at his words, brows slightly tensing, lips pursing.

He smiles, shifting in his place so that he could lie on his chest. When he does so, he pushes me on my back and brings his mouth near one of my breasts. I gasp when he laps at it like a snack, while he massages the other with his hand. My hands dig into his hair, messing it up more than ever.

"Dream," I call.

He does not respond like I want him to and only closes his eyes.

I let out a soft grunt when he sucks at my flesh. I sigh, "Dream, wait."

He immediately halts, lifting his head up, releasing my breast from his mouth.

I lick my lips as I look down at him.

"What is it? Do you not like this?"

"No... I... what about you?"

He takes a moment to respond. He chuckles, pulling me closer to him, "sweet dear," he kisses my rib, "you need not worry about me."

"No, but-"

"I will claim your maidenhood in a moment."

... w... w- he said what?

He raises his brows along with the corners of his lips. A velvety chuckle escapes him, "is that not what you want?"

"..."

"Is it not I that you wish to lay claim to this tenderness within you, this tenderness that your humanity puts so much emphasis on?"

I suck in a deep breath and bite my lip tightly.

"Do you want me to have you now?"

"... yes."

He grins, tongue darting across his lips, "then I say, do not worry about me," he kisses my skin, "I know well enough what I want to do with you."

So for a few minutes, the Dream King keeps his attentions on my breasts. He pulls me closer to reciprocate the same treatment to the other after a while.

At one point, he brings his hands to my core again, making my body quiver against him.

When I begin to call out his name in the same dazed manner from a while ago, he lifts his head from by chest and kisses my lips, pulling away again to smile down at me, "you feel ready for me now, beloved."

I bite my lips in anticipation.

"Are you ready?" he asks with genuinity.

I nod, "yes."

He pushes himself up and begins to crawl on top of me. His hands parts my legs to make room for himself and I graciously open myself up for him.

I sigh when he presses against me, hands rearing me by my waist. Dream kisses my check, "yes. You're more than ready, aren't you?"

Our eyes lock. He looks at me in expectation. I nod my head again.

He wraps my legs around him as he slowly rocks into me, making me breathlessly moan beneath him.

He sighs, kissing my jaw, all the way down to my neck, sucking on my skin before iterating, "my soft lover, so ready for me."

"Somnia," I whisper, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He hisses when I meet the rolling of his hips with my own. He nips at my neck, "alright, my love. I would not dare deprive you any longer."

A chill runs down my spine when he lifts up and sinks down into me. The action draws out a prolonged cry from my lips. In response, he peppers my neck with kisses while adjusting atop my body.

"So good," I mumble, "so good inside me."

He groans at my words, hands gripping my hips as he slowly begins to push and pull himself into me, "yes, my precious. I'll make you feel good, even more than a while ago, even more than now."

I sigh as Dream kisses my neck, and gently grinds into me.

After a few moments, I tighten my legs around him and whine, "more please. I want to feel you more."

He moans, immediately heeding my cries, hips bucking into me with more fervor, "in imperio tuo."

On your command.

He kisses my lips, repeating, "on your command, beloved, a slave to your command."

My voice hikes up and loudens when his pace grows quicker. I heave in an attempt to even my breathing. My fingers tangling back into his hair for the nth time.

"My sweetness," he says in between thrusts, "such sweet sounds," he moans, "and all for me."

I moan, calling out his name on instinct.

He hums, kissing my cheek, "better now? Isn't it better?"

"Yes, yes, oh, my lord, yes," I whine, "so much better."

He goes wild with the praise. He drinks it up like cool water on a scorching day. He growls as he finds a delicious tempo, quick and full, snapping in and out of me like it was his purpose.

I begin to recite all the Latin praises I could think of.

When I slowly spiral in my pleasure, I call out his name, and when I hardly find it in myself to speak, I bite into him, gnawing at his flesh like it was my deliverance, not thinking about its consequences, not thinking about how it would feel for anyone but me.

He hisses, pushing deeper into me, poking a nerve in my being that breaks my mind, that renders me boneless beneath him.

All at once, my sweet words are morphed into obscenities. All of the praises in my body are burned into oohs and aahs and throaty cries that I never thought myself of producing.

Dream eats it up like candy, taking in my lips with his, making our pants mix into further lascivious noises.

At one point, I am numb to everything but him. At one point, I was at the fullness of his mercy. He could crush me and spit on my bones and I'd thank him. But he does not do this, he does not desecrate my form, he does not disregard my being. Instead he dives into me with adoration, he treats me with divine regard, he stretches me out with care.

I make no other sound than ones of pure enjoyment as the king begins to shift my legs.

I submit to him, to whatever he wants to do with me, and soon, he pushes my knees to my chest and brings my legs to his shoulders.

Now, I was lost to everything save the tension in my core. After adjusting himself against me, breaking into my being as if intent on binding our forms together, I scream out and thrash my hands helplessly at anything, everything I could get my hands on.

When he calls out my name and praises my body, I'm a goner. The Lady be damned. In this moment there was only one, there was only him, the Dream King. Just him, him, him.

And so I scream it out, I scream out his name as my body crumbles against him. I flutter and crash. I tense and release. I was delivered.

He calls out my name in response. He calls out my name and does not dare relent his motions. Next thing I know, I'm shaking all over again with a vengeance as he spills into me, hot, sharp, and blinding.

Somnia pushes my legs apart, though his movements do not at all slow. He digs into me with his heels and pushes his chest flush into mine, cradling me against him, as if he was scared I'd disappear.

Then slowly, slowly, slowly, he allows his pace to relent. Gently, gently, gently, he kisses me and finally gives me a chance to catch my breath, to feel myself on him, to savor this utter bliss between us.

I mumble nothings as I trap him with my limbs. I pull him into me tightly, not wanting him to leave, only wishing that he'd keep me here like this forever.

And then the wildness fades.

In the aftermath of it all, the sounds of strangled breathing persists. Grunts and mewls catch up with us as well, as we both eventually soften against each other's beings.

I let out taut panting sounds against his ear before I nip at his lobe.

I squeal when he laughs, my body was oversensitive to the vibrating of his chuckle.

He stops himself and offers a kiss on my cheek, "my sweet darling."

I close my eyes, allowing myself to savor his scent, his feel, his taste.

Dream continues my neck again, lathering me with more affection, "have I made it up to you yet?"

I nibble at my lip as I nod. He smiles in return.

"I think... you may have ruined every other man for me."

He tenses. I feel him tense above me real time. He pulls his head back, looking down at me so suddenly with a fury, "you dare mean to say you expected to have another besides me after all of this?"

"Well, I-" I wail, body jolting sharply when he ruts into me in offence over my words.

"This," he hisses, "this is more than mockery. This is treachery, this is treason!"

I let out shaky sounds and piercing shrieks when he does not relent.

He only halts when tears begin to lace the corners of my eyes, after I practically call out his name in a plea for my life.

He ends his retaliations with a huff, nostrils flaring, hand grabbing my jaw, "look at me, little one."

I screw my eyes shut. There is a dread that builds in my belly.

"Must I repeat my punishment to have you look?"

I blink back the tears from my eyes as I turn to him. I let out a weak sigh at the sight of him.

"You shall have to make it up to me for that."

I pant at the rigidness of his expression.

"Do you understand me?"

I huff, nodding my head.

"I asked-"

I squeak again when he thrusts.

"-if I am understood."

"Yes, my king."

He hums, or rather, he bellows, "very good then."

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