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bvidzsoo · 2 months ago

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Every time I see you...chapter 1 ↰

...my throbbing heart rate spikes up

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

☆ Warning: none ☆ Word count: 5.3k ☆ Rating: sfw ☆ Genre: slice of life, established situationship, post university setting, fluff ☆ Summary: There was nothing exclusive between the two of you, but somehow you didn't mind being in Mingi's arms, in his presence. A day spent well gets rewarded by a movie night with the person you're the most fond of.

☆ Visuals ☆

M.list

A/N: And so, the first chapter is here! It's a slow ease into their relationship, it will pick up as we proceed, I promise. I hope you find it intriguing, let me know what you thought of this part, I'm curious to hear your opinions! I think this is very different from what I usually write, but soft!Mingi is so dear to me that I sob anytime I write for this series LMAO. The Mingi from this story is canon Mingi, and you can't convince me otherwise lol. Next chapter coming next week around this time! ^^ Check out the vision board I made for this story, as well as Giselle's Dopamine song! Taglist is open for the story! Enjoy! ^^ divider

Taglist: @spicxbnny @hongjoongspoetry

🎧 𝘭 𝒹𝜎𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝛼 𝓂𝛼𝑛, 𝒿𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝛼𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝜎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 / Ⴘ𝑒𝛼ℎ, 𝑦𝜎𝑢 ℓ𝜎𝜎𝑘 𝑠𝜎 𝑔𝜎𝜎𝒹 𝑠𝑡𝛼𝑛𝒹𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑒𝘹𝑡 𝑡𝜎 𝓂𝑒 / 𝛮𝑒𝘹𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝘭 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝐷𝜎𝑝𝛼𝓂𝑖𝑛𝑒 / 𝘊𝛼𝑛’𝑡 ℓ𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝜎𝑢 𝑐ℓ𝜎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝜎 𝓂𝑒 🎧

The scent of ground coffee was potent as the grinder disturbed the otherwise serene atmosphere of the modest coffee shop, located in the heart of the city, right under a publishing company. Thus, it was famous among bookworms, office workers, or high school students who loved to skip their last class of the day, the school was located just a bit further up on the street. I loved this area because it was always busy, littered with people and various shops on both sides of the boulevard, housing hidden gems and other popular hot spots like the Moon & Stars Coffee Ground coffee shop that Mingi worked at part-time. His back was turned to me as he worked the coffee grinder, his exposed biceps bulging as he screwed the top of the lid back shut, finally stopping the grinder. Silence fell upon the coffee shop once again, giving way to the quiet jazz music playing through the speakers. Mingi had the opening shift today, the shop wasn’t opened yet, but I had a few privileges by being his friend, so, I was allowed in as long as I helped with dusting the tables off and changing the flowers which were withering away in the small, cute, orange vases placed on top of each round table.

The coffee shop was an explosion of colours, the walls painted a deep green with low-hanging retro chandeliers that gave the place a moody vibe even during the day. Plants weren’t scarce either, giving the air inside a much-needed refresh from the polluted air coming from the outside. Abstract paintings hung on the wall from artists even I didn’t know, and the counter I was leaning against was a deep maroon, sturdy and able to withhold a few splashes of the drinks placed atop it. A few delicacies were displayed in the window to my left, most of them were still being baked in the kitchen located straight behind the counter, and I picked at the leaf of the small plant absentmindedly as Mingi’s silver rings collided against the shaker he used to combine different coffee grounds. The sun was just rising on the horizon, coating the inside of the coffee shop in an orange hue, a single sunray falling onto Mingi’s dark brown hair, making it appear lighter than it was. I continued watching him in silence, my eyes still heavy from having woken up not even an hour ago.

The world was still quiet outside, but those who started their jobs early or had to travel longer were out and about, all quiet and not bothering each other as they walked down the sidewalks. The coffee shop had half an hour before it would open, and by that time I would be gone, headed to the store I worked at. We were lucky that our workplaces were relatively close to each other, if we were in a hurry, we could make the walk last roughly ten minutes. The thought of having Mingi just around the corner was comforting for some reason, perhaps knowing that if I texted him that I needed him for something, he’d come running around the corner brought a sense of security with itself. I was used to having Mingi by my side, ready to drop everything if I needed his help or assistance with something. He was a good friend, dependable and trustworthy, loyal beyond what could be considered healthy. I smiled as Mingi lightly swayed his hips to the music, the dark green apron tied around his waist accentuating the tininess of it. The sweet scent of salted caramel made saliva gather in my mouth, and I knew Mingi’s intention before he had even turned around.

“You haven’t dozed off, sleepyhead?” He asked with a chuckle, his voice quiet and a deep rumble in his chest. It had always been like that, gravely with a rasp to it, yet warm in tone and used with gentleness. Mingi wasn’t the type of person to shout, perhaps if he got too excited his voice would raise a few octaves as he was carried away by his exhilaration, always eager to share it with someone as his eyes sparkled like the stars on a clear stary night.

“Not yet,” I answered, chin resting in my palm as Mingi leaned his hip against the counter, searching for the right lid for the cup he held, “It would be a bit difficult while standing up, I’m not like you.”

That made Mingi chuckle as he threw me an amused glance, his heavy and sharp eyes friendly as they crinkled at the ends. He found the right lid for the cup and placed it on top of it, pressing down thrice to make sure he had placed it on correctly. Then, he slowly pushed the warm container towards me and I smiled, accepting the coffee wordlessly. Our fingers brushed together and I felt a rush of warm tingle through my hand, making my smile widen as did Mingi’s, his eyes becoming smaller with the action.

“Thank you,” I muttered as I raised the sweet coffee to my lips, taking a cautious sip since it was still hot. Mingi hummed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and his taut chest muscles pulled at the form-fitting white tee he wore. It was warm inside the coffee shop, but I wondered how his exposed arms weren’t covered in goosebumps yet. My cardigan was warm, yet I didn’t look forward to when I’d have to step outside into the crisp morning air once again. Mingi’s necklaces were nicely layered, his outfit simple but put together with a good eye for fashion, “Did you forget your glasses at home once again?”

Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and he reached up with a hand to touch the bridge of his tall nose, having to check physically that his glasses were missing or not. I shook my head with amusement as I took a small sip of the salted caramel-infused drink, “Seems like you are the sleepyhead.”

“No, it’s here,” Mingi argued, leaning down and reaching forward, arm getting lost in the counter as he felt around for his glasses. His thick eyebrows furrowed, and from his position, they framed his eyes, making his already sharp features sharpen even more. He liked wearing his hair brushed back and out of his eyes lately, the length not quite ready to require a cut, but annoying enough to make Mingi complain about it every once in a while, “See?”

He stood up straight, his height almost intimidating as he leaned forward, shaking the glasses in front of my face before he wore it, the rim thick, boxy, and black. The shape suited his face and softened the intimidating features he was born with, making him look cute. I reached forward, hip digging into the counter, to push the glasses further up on his nose because he had a habit of looking above the glasses instead of through like he was supposed to. Mingi pouted at the action but leaned into my touch, his plush lips jutted out reminding me of our adolescent days when he was nothing but a sulky boy, hating his round-rimmed glasses and always complaining about his school uniform, which didn’t fit him because it was a hand me down. It had taken a few years of maturing for Mingi’s muscles to grow out, strengthened by Pilates, his guilty pleasure as he liked saying. The few classes I accompanied him had me convinced that Pilates was invented for those who craved to have their muscles burning for days, a sort of masochism that I found no joy in.

“You should wear it more often,” I noted, raising an eyebrow as Mingi playfully rolled his eyes, “before your eyesight worsens, of course.”

“Right,” He mock-saluted, leaning just a bit over the counter to be closer to my face, “You’re starting to sound more like my mother each day, Y/N, it’s a bit freaky.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, reaching out to flick his forehead, but he knew me too well and dodged my inoffensive attack in time. But before I could retract my arm, he grabbed my wrist with his large hand and brought it down to the counter, gently keeping it in place as his larger hand caged mine against the surface. It was a small effort to make physical contact and I didn’t hate it, I rather enjoyed the small moments of intimacy we could share freely when it was just the two of us. Mingi was an affectionate person, he didn’t shy away when he needed a hug or just a little bit of support, arms wide open and eyes soft as he batted his long eyelashes at you. I hummed and basked in the peace that enveloped us around, something we both enjoyed on quieter days. There was no need for loudness or boisterous behaviour, we already knew who the other was, and there was no need to show off anything.

“Let me play the role of a concerned mother for a bit longer, then,” Mingi snorted, glancing at the clock on the wall to make sure he didn’t keep the coffee shop closed for longer than the program said, “Did you start your research on your final coursework?”

Mingi liked to stay ahead of his assignment deadlines, but sometimes laziness got to him like to any other person. But he hated having to hurry and half-ass his work so that rarely happened. Unless he was loaded with coursework, his assignments would be handed in weeks before their deadline.

“Yes and no,” Mingi sighed, his soft fingertips gently tracing my skin, “I’m supposed to meet with my coordinator this week so that we agree on a subject, I have too many ideas to choose from and I know he’s not fond of research that goes past the twentieth century.”

I nodded, taking a larger sip of my coffee, I could already feel it rejuvenate me, the sleep was gone from my eyes and my body felt less sluggish. It’s a wonder I even managed to get out of bed today, “And let me guess, you want something that deals with the nineteenth century, huh?”

“You know me too well,” Mingi chuckled with a shake of his head, taking his hand off mine as he reached out, swiping his thumb over the corner of my mouth. I looked down at my cup of coffee and ignored the skip of my heartbeat, my cheeks feeling a bit warmer than before, “Maybe I’ll manage to convince him, who knows…what about your day? Do you have a lot of work to do?”

“Not that much, we got three commissions this weekend for five pieces, I’m hoping to get the larger necklace done today,” I answered, glancing at the clock on the wall, and realised I’d have to leave in five minutes if I wanted to make it to the store before it opened.

“You’re always quick, I’m not worried about it.” Mingi winked with a bit of a struggle and I smiled, humming because I knew he was right. I had been making jewellery for a long time now, I was becoming faster and faster at crafting lately, it was rather a blessing since we could have plenty of orders coming in on busier days.

“I’m going to go now,” I said as I grabbed my bag off the floor, throwing it around my shoulder as Mingi nodded, grabbing the keys to come and unlock the entrance door for me, “Are you coming over tonight?”

“Yeah, want me to bring anything?” Mingi asked as he came around the counter and linked our pinkies together while we walked to the door. I quickly did a mental check if I had everything we’d need for our movie night, then remembered that I was out of popcorn…the most important snack of the night.

“Buy some butter-flavoured popcorn, I forgot to grab some yesterday.” Mingi nodded as he unlocked the door, playfully tugging on my pinkie when I went to open it. I glanced back with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, looking down to the floor like a kicked puppy. I chuckled and squeezed his pinkie back, pulling my hand away as I finally pushed the door open, “Don’t pout, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Mingi hummed as he came to the door and leaned against it as I exited, giving me a small smile, “See you, have an easy day.”

“You too, Mingi.” I waved before turning around to head down the street, which was slowly filling up with cars and people as the city awoke, the sun higher in the sky. I could feel Mingi’s eyes on the back of my head, and I didn’t have to turn around to know he’d stay in the doorway, watching me until I crossed the crosswalk and turned the corner, disappearing from sight. The thought of having someone who cared for my safety and looked out for me wasn’t too bad, but I thrived on my independence and wouldn’t have struggled if Mingi wasn’t so sweet to look out for me. Even so, the lingering warmth in my chest due to his attentiveness wasn’t too disheartening.

By noon, the city had fully awoken and was bustling with restless people going on about their day. The jewellery store I worked at was on a side street, so, we were away from the rambunctious traffic and the impatient drivers that honked their car’s horns at the smallest inconvenience. That didn’t mean, however, that our store was one filled with quiet and calm, it was quite the opposite if our clients proved to be teenage girls looking for beaded friendship bracelets, or colourful rings with gemstones of which attributes they didn’t know about so they asked me or my boss, who was a lovely lady in the forties. She had untameable ginger hair and fiery red lips, her earrings always colourful hoops and her outfit the colours of the rainbow. She was full of energy and life, filling the shop with her radiance much like the sun filled our hearts on a cold winter day. I loved working with her, she saw beauty in everything and offered anyone a chance when they felt useless or good for nothing.

Her store, much like herself, mirrored the same brightness its owner carried. The walls were a light orange with yellowy rays painted on the opposite wall to the entrance, mimicking the warm sun beaming down on Earth through the clouds. Wooden shelves were set up across from the front desk, framing the walls with quirky designs that held the handmade jewellery we worked on day, and sometimes even at night. The floorboards were a rusty copper, and much to everyone’s surprise upon a first encounter with the store, a gorgeous Persian carpet was laid down with intricate design that just brought the aesthetic of the whole place together. The back room was small and hidden behind a beaded curtain right behind my back, offering a perfect escapade when the day was getting too long and the customers were too demanding. Incense always burned, coating the store in a woody scent that felt refreshing but sometimes nauseating if my boss left it on for too long, the ceiling fan thankfully dispersed the strong scent evenly.

The store wasn’t huge, but it felt inviting even upon one glance, and our customers felt cared for whenever they entered and we listened to their requests closely. Having landed this job was just as random as me deciding one day that I wanted to attend a Fine Arts course, focusing more on crafts and clay making. The few vases I had designed were displayed on the higher shelves where it was harder to reach and accidentally break them, my boss was more than happy to sell those too in her store. We both contributed with a little something of ours to the store and that’s why it worked out so nicely, just two fundamentally different people who enjoyed the same arts were brought together to attempt to make something beautiful and long-lasting.

I was tying the knot to the custom-made bracelet one of the teenagers had asked for when her friend walked up to the front desk, eyebrows furrowed and phone in her hand. She held two crystals in her palm, looking at them sceptically.

“Which one is the rose quartz?” She asked, her voice loud and a little rough as she let the crystals fall onto the glass counter. I glanced down at them and pointed at the clearer one on the left.

“That’s a clear quartz, the other one,” My burgundy nail pointed at the pinkish crystal, “is the rose quartz. Which one are you looking for?”

“Rose quartz,” She answered quickly, pushing at the rose quartz with narrowed eyes, “Is it true that it attracts love? Will I find a boyfriend if I wear it all the time?”

“Depends, are you a Taurus or Libra?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair, my boss was on her break and, meanwhile, she knew more about crystals, I had learned this and that from her throughout the years I’ve worked here.

“Not really…” The girl muttered as she shared a look with her friend, who had taken the bracelet I made for her to try it on. The strings I used were yellow and brown, a nice combination of colours, personally not my favourite, but it worked well with her complexion and it was also what she had asked for.

“Well, I heard it’s better if you have Venus in your chart if you want to wear a rose quartz,” I hummed, looking up at the ceiling in thought before I shrugged, “Rose quartz is good for emotional healing too, not just attracting love. But if you think it will help, you could try it out…”

“Do you believe it works?” The girl asked, her eyes just slightly widening. I chuckled, deciding to be honest with her.

“No, but that’s just me. Maybe it’ll work for you.” The girl just nodded, looking at her friend for another opinion. She just shrugged and told the girl to do whatever she wished. Their third friend walked up to the counter and told them that she wouldn’t buy anything today, so they could head out if everyone was ready to leave.

“I’ll buy it.” The girl said as she placed the crystal on the counter and I nodded, grabbing a small plastic wrap for her to store it in until she got home. I scanned the items and told the two girls the price of their purchase, watching them with amusement as they left the store in a hurry, words leaving their mouths in a hurry before they were even out of the store. I settled back into my chair and grabbed my bottle of water to take a gulp, my fingers aching just slightly from the various jewellery I had managed to make until now. The shop was rather busy today and my boss was excited as she whirled around, helping customers out with choosing items for themselves or as gifts.

My phone pinged before I could reach for it, and Mingi’s name lit up my screen as I unlocked it. I tapped on our messaging app and opened our conversation, gasping quietly when I was presented with a picture of a black and white spotted cat, emerald eyes staring curiously into the camera, head tilted to the side in wonder. Its ears were pointed backwards and I could practically hear Mingi cue at it. He loved kittens more than anything and had always wished to buy one, but he thought he was too busy right now to care for another little life besides his.

Mingi: Look how cute she is!! I’ve been feeding her for two weeks now, I’m 100% sure she knows who I am. I’ve named her Genie, isn’t she just so adorable? Me: Man, she really is adorable! I wish she was around when I’m at the shop, pet her in my place too! Genie because she grants wishes?

Mingi: Not more adorable than me, right?? I bet she’d love you too…but I’m her favourite, I just know it. I wanted to name her Greenie at first, but that felt weird. Genie, however, isn’t too bad. No reason for why I gave her that name, though… Me: I think she might be more adorable than you, Mingi… Wait until she meets me, you won’t be her favourite anymore, mister… Your mind sometimes is a mystical place, Mingi, I wonder what goes on inside of it

Mingi: Well, right now I’d like to be in your arms sitting on the couch or something… Something like…being the little spoon because I fall asleep faster when you wrap yourself around me… That’s what I’m thinking about right now instead of making sure I don’t burn the next batch of apple pies, do you want me to put some aside for tonight? Me: You are so cheesy, Mingi, anyone else would block you… I knew you liked being the little spoon, now I even have receipts of it, hah! I had muffins yesterday, so no thank you! Now stop texting and focus on your work, man. Mingi: Right, see you later, woman. Muawh

I chuckled and shook my head, setting my phone to the side with a smile on my face as I opened the new email we had gotten while I was texting Mingi. Seems like the week just started and we’d barely have any time to breathe between all these commissions.

My living room was covered in darkness aside from the flashing lights of the TV, the movie playing at an acceptable volume to not disturb the neighbours or deafen us. The blanket was fluffy and draped over our legs, mine pulled underneath me while Mingi’s were propped up on the coffee table. His legs were long enough to reach it if stretched out, and I might have envied him for that for a long time. Our hands were intertwined underneath the blanket and placed on Mingi’s thigh, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing against my knuckle every once in a while. Our shoulders brushed together and I would shift around from time to time, to try and keep my ass from going sore. Mingi, on the other hand, had no issue keeping his initial posture for hours on end. The blackout curtains were drawn together to offer us privacy since I only lived on the second floor, and the butter-flavoured popcorn Mingi had brought had been long eaten.

We had been watching the movie in silence for over an hour now with the occasional commentary coming from Mingi about how cool Captain America was. No matter how many times we’ve seen this movie, it never got old or boring. Perhaps it was Chris Evans’ face that made the viewing more pleasurable, alongside Scarlett Johanson, but we were both pretty hooked on the plot despite knowing what came next. There were small easter eggs that we hadn’t noticed before, so there was always something new that one of us accidentally discovered during our rewatches. I felt warm all cosied up next to Mingi, a bit even sleepy as his familiar cologne eased my tense muscles after the long day I’d had. My wrists were sore from all the crafting at the store today, I had even brought home a bracelet that I had to finish for tomorrow. I was too tired to work on it now, but I could thankfully get it done in the morning in thirty minutes.

As if Mingi had read my thoughts, he grabbed my wrist with both hands and slowly started rubbing it, creating heat and gently massaging the tense muscles of my hand. I smiled and playfully grabbed at his fingers, making him chuckle under his breath as the Winter Soldier appeared on the screen for the first time, the car the characters had been using now nothing but a mess of scrapes. I could see Mingi angle his body towards mine from my peripheral, and he licked his plump lips before he cleared his throat.

“I’ve been thinking…” He started quietly, his forehead slightly creasing as his eyes bled into the side of my head. I turned my head away from the TV, familiar with the scene already. The light lit up Mingi’s face, his glasses creating a tiny shadow over his face as I raised my eyebrows at him to prompt him to continue, “So, we’ve both been working hard, and I could use a vacation before my last exams come up. I know I should be studying, but at this point, I feel like I could recite any textbook you hand me, I really need a break. You’ve also been working a lot, and you didn’t take vacation off last year, so…”

I hummed, curious as to where this was headed, “So?”

“Let’s get away for a few days, I’ve been looking for a nice little cabin somewhere in the mountains. Not too far though, I know you don’t like long car rides.” Mingi grabbed my other hand and started massaging that one too, making me sigh in contentment as my hands now tingled with warmth, the tenseness gone from them.

“Just the two of us?” I raised an eyebrow, the idea actually sounded appealing. I could use a break from the hustle and bustle of the city.

“Yeah, just us.” Mingi nodded, smiling a little as I contemplated his offer for a second. I would have to visit my mother before we left, and I’d have to let my boss know in time, but other than that, it sounded like a plan to me.

“Sure, I’d love that.” I smiled and Mingi’s eyes lit up, fingers intertwining with mine as he squeezed our hands together. I chuckled at his excitement and let my eyes run over his face, taking in the softness in his eyes and the curve of his gorgeous mouth. Something in my gut coiled as my hands continued tingling with electricity, and I licked my lips as I leaned forward, eyes set on Mingi’s parted lips. He mirrored my actions and leaned forward, closing the distance between us confidently. His lips were warm as always and faintly tasted like the marshmallows he kept stuffing himself with not even half an hour ago, another guilty pleasure he seemed to have. This one, however, I could understand and even support.

Our bodies leaned closer as I raised my free hand to hold his jaw, tilting his head slightly back so that our lips pressed together a bit firmer. Kissing him always brought a wave of excitement, an electrifying spark running up my spine as our lips moved languidly, taking their time since there was no reason to hurry. He was sweet and gentle even with his kisses, always allowing me to set the pace as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, his long nose digging into my cheek. Mingi wasn’t a messy kisser but he had never shied away from a little saliva, and there was nothing he loved more than tracing his tongue against mine, sucking on it to deepen the kiss even more as he brought me halfway into his lap. Our hands parted as I grabbed his shoulder and swiped my tongue against his, a content sigh catching in the back of Mingi’s throat as his hand pressed into the small of my back, warm and burning through the fabric of my thin blouse. I could never get tired of his lips, sometimes kissing Mingi was so disorienting that we’d lose track of time, our lips almost as if glued to each other.

Inhaling through my mouth, I let Mingi press small kisses to my chin and mouth, muttering something I couldn’t understand before I captured his lips again, adding just a bit more passion into it as I felt a suffocating emotion build in my chest, heavy and demanding as if having Mingi like this wasn’t good enough. I had always craved more despite having everything I could ask from him, it seemed that I hadn’t been fully satiated just yet. It was a peculiar feeling, but I couldn’t ignore the fire and knot in my stomach anymore as he lapped at my tongue, his fingers gently holding my jaw as if he was afraid I’d slip away. Tonight was a slow evening, I was content with being in his arms, content in wrapping myself in a cocoon of safety that helped me forget the hardships the day had brought with itself. Pulling apart, I pressed a chaste kiss against his swollen lips and cradled his cheek, feeling how warm it was. Before I could completely pull back and sit back next to him, Mingi grabbed my arm as he readjusted himself on my spacious couch, opening his legs up so that I could sit between them. I climbed over his leg and settled down, adjusting the blanket around us so that it would keep his legs warm too as Mingi’s arms wrapped around my torso, nose nuzzling into my nape as he exhaled loudly.

“Do you think Natasha and Steve should’ve ended up together?” He asked quietly, mumbling it into my skin, and I laughed, looking back at the TV.

“I think they were too different for it to work out, and Steve was still in love with Peggie,” I answered truthfully, watching Chris Evans lean against the doorframe in nothing but a muscle white tee, a few bruises here and there, jeans, and a white towel to clean his hands in.

“I think Natasha would’ve been able to show him a new world, I wanted them together.” I didn’t have to look to know that Mingi was pouting, I could hear it in his voice.

“You say that every time we watch this movie.”

“Right, my thoughts won’t change on a random afternoon.”

I chuckled as silence fell upon us once again, wrapped around in the blanket and Mingi’s warmth, with his arms around my body, I felt the safest. It was a weird feeling that never developed into something I could completely understand, but there was something about Mingi’s presence that made me feel at ease, like the earth outside us would keep on turning around its axis and we wouldn’t miss out on anything because here, in each other’s arms, we had everything we needed. It was something I had never felt with anyone else, not even with my ex-boyfriend I thought I would end up marrying. There was something so gentle about the silence between Mingi and me, the understanding without spoken words, the warmth of a simple caress, the reminder that we were there for each other by the simplest things only made my chest tighten as the TV screen blurred, making me wonder whether I had gotten teary-eyed or just extremely sleepy.

Here in Mingi’s arms, in a dark living room lit up by the movie that we were watching for the nth time, I wondered if I could ever again trust that love existed, trust that there was indeed a person that was yours, meant to be with you without hurting you. I wondered if Mingi ever thought about it, if he wondered where his person was. Perhaps he didn’t care about such things and that’s why he wasted his days away by my side, smiling from ear to ear with glimmering eyes full of hope and something I could never truly understand. I grinned when I felt his feet rub against mine playfully, it was his way of letting me know that he wasn’t so lost in the movie that he wasn’t aware of me anymore. I sighed and relaxed into Mingi’s body, letting the doubtful thoughts and feelings simmer in a deep cavern of my heart for the rest of the evening.

>> next chapter

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lcverwrites · 3 months ago

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the lovers ― aegon targaryen ... part two

THE LOVERS ― AEGON TARGARYEN ... (part two) (1.9k)

summary ...it has been said that aegon and his wife, the lady tyrell, were a match of political view, but it was suddenly apparent to anyone with eyes, that the two wandering souls were made of the same cloth, two lovers bound with fluttering butterflies and dazzling stars. pairing ... aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader (wife reader) warnings ... smut, this is pure smut, very little plot in this story, 18+ content ahead please be warned, afab reader, unprotected sex (p in v), soft smut, semi sub Aegon (as if he could be anything else), not totally dom reader but like soft dom reader note ... I'm obsessed with this pairing so much, you don't even wanna know. I have so much I wanna write for them, but I'm lacking in the words to actually get it written out. I also have been thinking about making this an actual series, like I've planned out a pinterest board for this couple, I'M OBSESSED.

<< previous part

⠀⠀⠀The red Keep had been engulfed in a warm silence, the waning moon rising just beyond the horizon, painting the castle in a cool milky glow. Few people milled around the castle at this time. A maid carrying a pile of fresh linens for the Princess, guards standing at the ready at the entrance of the hall, poised with silent strength and sharpened weapons, white cloaks glowing beneath the moon’s glittering presence. A coolness creeped into the barren corridors, the breeze carried on the back of the chimes of midnight, brushing upon warm cheeks, a lick of winter in the air.

But beyond the corridors, Aegon and wife painted a rather different picture.

The King’s Bedchamber was illuminated by the hearths flickering embers, bathing the room in Autumnal colours, splashes of warm orange and buttery yellow, breathing warmth into every corner of the room, edging out the cool night. The windows were left uncovered, allowing slips of moonlight into the room, wisps of frigid wind snaked their way into the room, but were pushed through the layers of linen and furs, whipping around the the gossamer like curtains that framed the windows, fabric dancing with the serenity that settled in the room.

Golden goblets sat strewn on the table, drips of crimson wine staining the rich wood, dripping below, painting the stone with the richly scented liquid. The spilled wine was followed by the finest of slips, weaved with rich silks, a pearlescent sheen to the fabric, underclothes belonging to someone of riches. It was intertwined with a piece of cotton, a fine material on its own, belonging to someone entirely different. It was mangled around a pair of leather breeches, ties haphazardly undone, holding on for dear life.

The trail of wine and clothing led to the spacious bed in the middle of the room. The bed is lofted by an ornate frame, wooden carvings swirled around the rich oak wood. Covered in freshly washed, soft looking linens, blankets of rich green and stark white were strewn across the bed, hanging off the edge, tittering with every movement.

Aegon and his wife, Lady Tyrell, were tangled in the thin linens.

She pressed her hands against Aegon’s chest, nails pressing into the smooth skin, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

Aegon panted beneath her, hands running over the expanse of her thighs, dipping into the curved skin of her hips, holding her body against his. Her back curved as her hips followed a fluid motion, back and forth, slow circles that drove Aegon to the point of insanity.

Aegon thrusted his hips up, meeting her halfway. The sudden movement called a whine from between her lips, airy and sultry.

“Aegon” She whined, the air taken right from her lungs, and the only word she could spill from her lips was her lover's name.

Aegon felt spurred on by her wanton sound, using her hips as leverage, pulling himself up. His chest pressed against her own, each breath she took, pressed her skin further against his own, as if wishing to become one.

Aegon craved her pleasure like no one else, coaxed it out with the subtle shove of his hips, hands moving from their rightful place on her hips, grasping her backside, hauling her body against his, as if there were any space between them for her to take. They were skin to skin, sweat clinging to their bodies, slickly sliding between them.

“That’s it, my love” Aegon pitfully groaned, pressing his reddened lips against her neck, lapping at the sweat slicked skin, mouthing at the already pinkish skin.

One of Aegon’s hands released her backside, travelling the length of her spine, feeling her warmed flesh beneath his fingers. He interlaced his fingers in the loose strands of her hair, pulling on the soft locks, tugging her head back, allowing Aegon more of her neck to lather in kisses, soft bites of flesh beneath his teeth.

Her skin was smooth beneath his lips, warmed by the thumping of her heart, blood rushing through her veins. Aegon’s teeth skimmed over the taunt skin, wishing he could bite through her flesh, tearing through muscle and bone alike, devouring her very being, to devour the devotion she bled for him.

He imagined it would be sweet, just as she always was, but tinged with a bitterness that bled from his own heart into her.

He wanted to devour her, mind, body and soul.

And he knew she would allow him.

Her devolution was a double edged sword, and Aegon loved running his fingers over the sharp edges, cutting himself open for her pleasure, bleeding his heart dry for insatiable hunger.

Aegon used his strength to flip them over, laying her against the soft linens, hair fanning out around her, plush lips parted in a silent gasp, enjoying the change of position.

Aegon thrusted his hips against her own, his cock pushing further into her cunt, her legs locking around Aegon’s narrow hips, locking him against her writhing body.

“Yes…Aegon my love, please” She pleaded with Aegon, though Aegon was sure she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.

But Aegon would give her whatever she desired.

He would give her his heart if she asked for it, served to her on a silver platter for her delight, it was her already anyway, he wouldn’t miss it.

Aegon placed a hand on the pillow beneath her head, holding his body above hers, while the other was gripping the supple skin of her hips, kneading the flesh of her thigh wrapped around his hips, nails digging into the flesh, claiming her body as his own.

“I love hearing you” Aegon whispered into the space between their bodies, their shared air was wet and hot, coated in their arousal and passion.

“I…I love-” Her statement was cute off by a rather loud moan, her hands coming up to grasp at the base of his skill, threading through the silvery locks of Aegon’s hair.

Aegon whimpered at the tugging of his hair, feeling a flush bleed across his already reddened cheeks, ducking his head back into the skin of his neck, teeth latching onto the skin of her shoulder this time, biting down harshly. She responded in kind with another keening noise, nails digging into the nape of his neck, seeking purchase to keep herself grounded.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in Aegon’s ears, the soft squelching sound of her wet cunt welcoming his cock was like music to his ears.

“Please come for me” Aegon whimpered, pleading with his wife, wanting the sweet satisfaction of bringing her pleasure that no one could. “Please, my love”

Her back arched, pressing her chest against his own once more, her hardened nipples scraping against his hot flesh.

Her lips parted a string of half words and pleasured sounds fell past the soft pillows. Aegon continued to thrust his hips, picking up speed, feeling her cunt gripping his cock like a velvet vice, holding his pulsing member inside her as waves of pleasure ebbed and flowed through her body.

“Aegon” She whispered, using her grip on the back of his neck to haul his face from the depth of her neck, pressing her forehead against his own. “I’m gonna--”

“Please, please, please” Aegon whispered, his words overlapping, lips pouted and slick with his own spit. “I want it, give it to me”

She tried to utter another string of words, but the only sound that fell past her lips was a strangled moan, perhaps it had been Aegon’s name, he wasn’t sure, but the sound produced goosebumps to raise across his skin.

The squelching sounds in the room doubled as she came around Aegon’s cock, clenching around him, pulling him into her gushing cunt. Aegon followed her body’s demand, continuing to thrust his pulsing cock into her cunt.

“There you are” Aegon’s voice caressed her cheek, hot breath fanning out against her skin, the low treble of his voice had a shiver of delight running down her spine, quivering in Aegon’s hold.

Her legs were like jelly now, struggling against the force of her pleasure, muscles shivering around Aegon’s hips, but keeping their vice-like grip around his body, holding him close, unwilling to let him free.

Not that Aegon wanted to leave.

“How beautiful you look” Aegon continued to talk to her through her orgasm. “Coming around my cock, coming for your husband-- for your king”

Aegon placed a rather harsh thrust against her quivering sex, resounding in a loud moan from her lips.

“How beautiful you look” Aegon continued to talk to her through her orgasm. “Coming around my cock, coming for your husband-- for your king”

Aegon placed a rather harsh thrust against her quivering sex, resounding in a loud moan from her lips.

“I love you” She breathlessly said, finally gulping enough air, to find the words she wished to say.

Aegon’s hips continued their movement, thrusting in and out of her hot, wet cunt. Hips snapping against her own, an ache forming in his thighs from the strenuous action, but he craved more of her, he always craved more from her.

“My husband” She graced Aegon with a wet kiss against her cheek, his skin like molten beneath her lips. “My King” She followed a path from his cheek, down the long expanse of his neck, teeth gently grazing his skin as she spoke, hot air pulsing around his neck, setting his heartbeat a race.

She used the little strength she had to maneuver them once more, pressing Aegon down into the sweat soaked linens, silvery hair fanning around his head like a slice of moonlight caressed his skin, setting him aglow.

She moved her hips up and down, swivelling atop Aegon’s still throbbing cock, enticing him to his orgasmic bliss.

She bent down, arching her back, lips pursed right beneath his ear, hot breaths spilling over his skin, a jerky moan ruptured from his lips as her tongue licked at the tender skin beneath his ear.

“My lover” She finally finished her loving words, voice reaching the innermost part of his worn out heart, creaking open as if she had pried it apart with her delicate fingers weaving her love into his very blood, burning deep holes into his heart, making a home for her tender embrace.

Aegon’s teeth buried into his bottom lip, letting out a deep and gravelly groan, feeling himself become putty beneath her hands. Aegon’s hands, now firmly pressing into the crease of her hips, held her body to his, giving a half attempted thrust, before he felt himself exploding.

Hot jerks of come erupted from his cock, burying themselves into her welcoming cunt. A shallow groan fell from Aegon’s lips, hips slowly trying to bury himself further inside her.

“Thank you” Aegon found himself muttering, the words falling from his lips before he could think about them.

She pushed her head from his neck, cheeks inflamed with a dark hue, hair a tousled mess around her shoulders, spilling over her chest, tickling Aegon’s rapidly rising and falling chest. Her lips were parted with deep breaths and she ground her hips into Aegon’s keeping his cock within her.

He could see that glimmer in her eyes, the one she had solely for Aegon, the one that spoke the thousands of words Aegon could never find. The unspoken love between them, the devotion that spilled from their very pours, bleeding into each other. The love exchanged between passionate kisses and sweat tangled embraces.

“Whatever for, my love” She replied, in a way that made Aegon think she would never truly know what she did to him.

What she provided him with.

A love like the gods. To be protected beneath her caresses, to feel his skin beneath her palm, without knowing that his entire being belonged to her. To be graced with the heavenly touch of her lips, eliciting sounds only ever made for her ears to hear.

“For loving me” Aegon supplied the simplest of answers.

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon #aegon imagine #aegon smut #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x tyrell!reader #aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader #aegon targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragton imagine #house of the dragon #hotd aegon #hotd smut #tyrell!reader #the lovers

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lcvemiyuki · 9 months ago

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"seashells by the seashore" | kuroo, hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: sometimes even the smallest things remind him of you...even a pretty little seashell

warnings+tags: disgustingly cute, kurooxfem!reader, established relationship

character(s): kuroo

word count: 1183

a/n: happy father's day!...and also thank you for 250 followers!! ♡

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sun was beating down relentlessly on the sun-bleached sand. The heat was becoming too much to bear; it felt like stepping onto a scorching desert. With the temperature rising, all you wanted was to cool down in the refreshing water of the sea and perhaps lose yourself in the simple pleasure of searching for seashells in the shallow, crystal-clear water. You began to rummage through your bag, searching for your goggles, being careful not to disturb the sleepy figure lying next to you. Kuroo was sprawled under the protective shade of a large umbrella, shades on, appearing completely relaxed.

However, he suddenly peeped one curious eye open as he noticed you getting up, heading off towards the inviting, blue sea.

“Wait up!” he called out to you, his voice filled with playful authority. He swiftly got to his feet, his toned muscles flexing attractively under the golden sunlight. He jogged over to you with ease and instinctively swept your hand into his larger one.

Hand in hand, you both walked down to the water, leaving footprints in the sand. The cool waves lapped at your feet, a refreshing contrast to the heat as you waded into the shallow area. You put on your scuba goggles and started to look for seashells. Kuroo joined in the fun, diving under a small wave to get acclimated to the cold water. The icy sea felt like a soothing balm, cooling your overheated skin.

Multiple air bubbles break the surface as Kuroo resurfaces. His dark hair, now messy from his short nap, fell into his eyes as he squinted to examine the shells. He had a grin plastered on his face, so wide and infectious it was almost as if he was up to no good.

“Look at this one,” he said, his voice filled with blatant excitement. He held up a particularly shiny shell, its surface gleaming in the sunlight. “Isn’t it pretty?”

The six-foot-three giant had no problem standing up on his own in the deeper end; he could grab the colorful shell fragments on the floor as if picking up trash on the side of the street. He simply watched as you bobbed your head up and down with a variety of seashells in your hand with each pick-up.

He found every bit of it adorable to witness.

As you gathered seashells, he kept finding ones he thought you’d like, filling his pockets with your picks. “This one’s cool, right?” he asked, handing you a small, spiral-shaped shell. “Looks like something those mermaids in—”

He glanced up after a while and saw you standing a little way off, your figure silhouetted against the setting sun. The golden glow bathed you in warm light, making you look ethereal as you swayed gently with the current. Your goggles were nowhere to be seen, probably underwater in your grasp. He took a moment to really take you in. Your head glistened from the sheen of water coating your face, and tiny droplets clung to your dampened eyelashes, occasionally falling onto your cheek. The sight of you took his breath away; like a nymph from an ancient sea tale, otherworldly and enchanting.

The colors of the sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, and the reflection on the water added a surreal beauty to the moment. You were a vision of serenity, a fleeting moment of perfection in the fading light.

Almost as if sensing his gaze, you turned your eyes back to him and smiled. His heart skipped a beat at the sight, and he couldn't help but grin back, his sharp features softening. He swam over to you, splashing water as he moved, not caring that it drenched your head.

“Hey, no daydreaming allowed,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “We’re on a mission to find the perfect shell, remember?”

Laughing, you splashed back at him, and in no time, it turned into a full-blown water fight. "Kuroo, you know I'm going to win this!" you called out, trying to dodge his playful attacks.

"Oh, confident much?" he teased, sing-songing, "Big talk for someone who's about to lose." With a mischievous grin, he dove underwater, the sudden silence making you momentarily tense.

You looked around, wondering where he went, only to feel his strong hands grabbing your legs. With a surprised yelp, you were pulled down into the water with him.

You surfaced together, laughing and gasping for breath, his arms still around you in a protective hold. He pulled you closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. "Gotcha," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re terrible,” you said between giggles, raking your hand through his wet hair to push it out of his face.

“Terribly good at winning water fights,” he corrected with a cheeky grin. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, “I should get a trophy for that.”

His monolid eyes suddenly grew gentle as they scanned your face. He slowly lifted his hand, his thumb brushing against your cheek to wipe away the lingering water droplets.

“Oh really?” you challenged, a playful smile dancing on your lips as your eyes zeroed in on his pinkish lips. “Maybe I’ll give you a reward then.”

You leaned in slowly, your lips almost touching his, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed any words that wanted to spill out. He held his breath as you closed the gap between the two of you. Just as he started to close his eyes, anticipating the sweet contact, you quickly cupped a handful of water and splashed it right into his face.

"Sike." You slightly stuck the tip of your tongue out at him, spinning around and racing back toward the shore, laughing all the way.

He stood there, momentarily stunned, before wiping the water from his face and snorting at how incredibly childish you were. “I’m dumping all of these shells back in the ocean!” he shouted, his voice echoing over the waves as he took off after you with renewed determination.

The sound of your laughter echoed over the waves as you dashed through the water, feeling the thrill of the chase and the warmth of the sun.

Treading back onto shore, he plopped down with you on the stripped beach towels, his tan skin glistening with water droplets. As he fished in his pocket, his hand made contact with one shell in particular that caught his eye. He pulled it out, pinching it between his fingers and inspecting it closer. The shell was intricate and beautiful, its colors reflecting the soft hues of the setting sun.

The sudden flashback of you, in all of your perfection, the sun kissing your skin in a warm glow filled his mind.

“I’m keeping this one,” he said to you, sounding decidedly final as he carefully put the shell back into his surf short's pocket.

You looked at him with curiosity, a question in your eyes. “Why that one?”

He turned to you, his eyes soft and sincere, a smirk playing on his lips. “Because it reminds me of you.”

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

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estellan0vella · 2 months ago

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Secret Loser: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 19.4K

CW: Mention of body piercings, specifically a Prince Albert, Sexual References (No Smut), Minlix romance, side romances, OOC Jisung, tatted-up Jisung (a warning of it's own)

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as the Alpha Phi boys lounge around a picnic table at Wolmi Myland, a theme park in Incheon. The air is warm and sticky with the scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and fried food. They’re all wearing ridiculous novelty sunglasses. Each pair is more absurd than the last.

Jisung, ever the dramatic one, wears a pair of neon-pink guitar-shaped sunglasses that are so large they almost obscure his face entirely. He’s sitting back in his chair, arms crossed, looking unbothered, but there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Fuck, I can barely see with these things on,” Changbin mutters, adjusting his own aviator-style glasses that have a flame design on the sides. He’s half-dressed in football team merch, the oversized T-shirt swallowing his frame. He shovels a handful of fries into his mouth and looks over at Minho, who's sitting opposite him, winking at Felix.

Felix, whose blonde hair is messy from the humidity, but still perfectly styled, glances up at Minho, his face turning a shade of pink that clashes with the neon orange of his oversized bunny sunglasses.

“Stop fucking staring, Minho,” Felix says, his voice crackling with a nervous laugh.

Minho leans in a little closer, his eyes dancing with mischief, the black, pink, and blue streaks in his hair matching the colour scheme of his mirrored sunglasses. “What, you can’t handle it, Felix? You look cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

Felix’s cheeks go from pink to red, and he stutters, an adorable mess. “I-I don’t- What the hell are you talking about?” He tries to redirect his attention to his phone, scrolling through the latest Instagram posts from Kappa Tau, but Minho’s not letting him off the hook that easy.

“Come on, stop pretending you’re not into it,” Minho teases, his voice low and warm, a playful edge to every syllable. He gives Felix a slow, deliberate wink, and the heat on Felix’s face only deepens.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Felix mutters, trying to avoid looking at him directly. His fingers fumble with the straw in his drink. He’s trying, really trying, not to be flustered, but Minho’s making it impossible.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” Minho continues, giving Felix a lazy, flirtatious grin. “Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t kissed you yet, Felix. What’s the hold up?”

Felix sputters, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Y-You- What? No, shut up.” His hands shake as he brings his drink to his lips, but instead of sipping, he accidentally splashes some soda on his chin.

“Smooth,” Jisung chimes in, his guitar-shaped sunglasses reflecting the twilight. “You know, Felix, I never thought I'd see you as the type to blush like a virgin in church, but here we are.” He leans back, chuckling to himself.

Changbin snorts. “Fucking right. I thought you had game, man.” He gives Felix a playful shove, the fries he’s holding spilling everywhere. “Guess not, huh?”

Felix looks at him, aghast. “I have fucking game. You’re just all assholes.”

“Sure, sure,” Changbin grins. “Just admit Minho’s got you weak in the knees, bro.”

“Fuck off, Changbin,” Felix snaps, but his eyes dart to Minho, and for a split second, he looks like he’s about to give in. But he quickly turns away, reaching for a bag of chips to hide his flustered expression.

“Yikes, dude, you really are a mess,” Seungmin says, popping a chip into his mouth with an exaggerated crunch. He’s got the worst luck, though. While everyone else is sporting absurdly oversized sunglasses, Seungmin’s sporting a pair of dick-shaped sunglasses.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Minho asks, bursting into laughter. “Dude, you literally lost the rock-paper-scissors tournament and this is the price you pay? Fucking dick glasses?”

Seungmin, ever the good sport, grins. “Yeah, I look fucking amazing, don’t I?” He leans back, letting the ridiculousness of it all sink in. “The ladies love it.”

“Right,” Changbin snickers. “Yeah, you’re gonna get so much ass with those, Seungmin.”

“Can’t wait to get those numbers,” Seungmin quips back, tossing a handful of fries at Changbin. “I’ll be swimming in pussy.”

“Fuck off, man,” Jisung laughs, his voice vibrating with amusement. He lets out a dramatic sigh. “You guys are all a bunch of idiots.”

“Hey,” Hyunjin says from the other end of the table, adjusting his longish black hair and flicking his sunglasses to the side. “Can we focus for a second? I still can’t believe we’re all stuck here because of that stupid game of gawi bawi bo. What the fuck, we’re Alpha Phi, not a fucking daycare.”

“It’s the fucking principle of the matter, man,” Jisung protests, rolling up his black button-up sleeves to reveal his inked arms. His scorpion tattoo winks at anyone brave enough to look too closely. “Seungmin lost, he wears the dick glasses. End of story.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyunjin mutters, pulling a hot dog from the wrapper. “But we could be, I don’t know, doing something cool right now. Instead, we’re all sitting around here in dumb glasses, eating shit food.”

Felix’s lips quirk into a grin as he takes another sip from his drink. “We’re doing what we do best. Acting like idiots.”

“Fuck yeah,” Changbin agrees, tossing a fry into the air and catching it in his mouth with impressive skill. “But it’s not even that bad. I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones in this park with a crew as fucking good-looking as us. Right, Jeongin?”

Jeongin, who had been sitting silently, nods enthusiastically, flashing a wide grin. His black hair falls into his eyes as he tilts his head to look at them. “I mean, we’re pretty fucking hot. No one stands a chance.”

“You’re right,” Minho chimes in with a smirk. “But still, Felix here can’t handle it when I flirt with him. It’s like he turns into a fucking tomato.”

“Shut the hell up, Minho,” Felix mutters, reaching for his fries to avoid making eye contact.

The whole group bursts into laughter, the sound of their voices cutting through the fading sunlight. There’s something about their energy, the way they mess with each other without any real malice behind it, that makes it hard to tell if they’re just friends or if there’s something more simmering beneath the surface. The way Minho looks at Felix, the way Felix reacts, says a lot more than they’re willing to admit.

But for now, all they care about is the joke, the laughter, and the warm summer night ahead. The rest can wait.

The bustling energy of Wolmi Myland crescendos as the disco pang pang ride spins in vivid neon, flashing lights reflecting off the polished metal of its circular platform. Jisung smirks, tugging at his silver chains as he steps forward, his black button-up fluttering slightly in the sea breeze. “Alright, let’s do this,” he says, his confidence unmistakable as he adjusts the sleeves of his shirt, tattoos coiling down his arms catching the light.

“God, I hope you puke,” Changbin mutters from the sidelines, leaning against the railing with a half-empty soda in one hand. Beside him, Chan lets out a loud laugh.

“Bold of you to assume Jisung has anything left in his stomach,” Chan retorts.

“Fuck you, guys,” Jisung calls back without turning around, flipping them the bird over his shoulder. “You’re just jealous you’re not man enough for this ride.”

“Man enough?” Seungmin repeats, adjusting the ridiculous dick-shaped sunglasses still perched on his nose. “Bro, you’re the one who screamed on the log flume like it was a fucking horror movie.”

“THERE WAS WATER IN MY EYE,” Jisung shouts dramatically, throwing his arms in the air. Hyunjin doubles over laughing, his black hair nearly obscuring his face.

“Sure there was, drama queen,” Hyunjin teases. “Come on, let’s do this before Felix changes his mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind!” Felix protests, his voice indignant. His usual confidence wavers slightly under Minho’s amused smirk. “It’s just a ride, right? No big deal.”

“Right,” Minho says smoothly, patting Felix on the back. “And if you scream, I’ll still think you’re cute.”

Felix flushes deep red, stammering, “I- Shut up, Minho!”

They climb onto the ride, the four of them sliding into seats along the circular edge, gripping the bar behind them for balance. The operator, a middle-aged man with a mischievous grin, grabs the microphone and leans into it. “Welcome to disco pang pang! You ready to scream?”

The crowd cheers, and the speakers crackle again. “Alright, let’s start with a question: who’s single?”

Hyunjin, Felix, Minho, and Jisung raise their hands without hesitation, drawing immediate hoots and whistles from the onlookers.

Across the platform, your friend Jennie snickers and grabs your hand, thrusting it into the air. “Y/N’s single too!” she calls out, her Snow White outfit glittering under the lights.

Lisa, dressed as Cinderella, grabs Rose’s hand and does the same. “Rose is single too!”

The operator laughs, the mic amplifying his voice. “Alright, looks like we’ve got options. You four guys. Who’s best suited for Sleeping Beauty over there?” He points directly at you, your pink outfit shimmering under the ride’s lights.

Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix immediately point at Jisung, who raises an eyebrow and smirks, tilting his head. “Guess it’s unanimous,” he quips.

Minho holds up his hands. “We’re gay. No girls for us.”

Felix nods, backing him up. “None. At all.”

The operator chuckles. “Fair enough. What about Elsa, then?” He gestures toward Rose, her platinum-blonde wig catching the light.

“I’ll take that one,” Hyunjin says confidently, raising his hand with a grin.

“Alright, let’s spin!” The operator starts the ride with a sudden jolt, and the platform lurches into motion.

The ride spins and bounces, the centrifugal force sending everyone sliding against the edges, laughter and shouts filling the air. You grip the bar behind you tightly, but the ride jerks again, and suddenly your grip slips.

“Shit!” you exclaim, sliding uncontrollably toward the middle.

Jisung notices instantly, his dark eyes locking onto you as you skid along the platform. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, reaching out instinctively with one hand while keeping the other firmly on the bar.

Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix all stretch out their hands to help too, but Jisung’s reflexes are faster. His fingers close around your wrist, and he yanks you up onto your feet just as the ride jolts again.

The force sends you sprawling. Straight into Jisung’s lap.

“Holy shit,” Jisung mutters, one arm wrapping around your waist instinctively to keep you steady. The scorpion tattoo on his neck is close enough to brush against your temple, his breath warm against your ear. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply calmly, despite the chaos. Your voice is soft, unfazed, as if crashing into a stranger’s lap is just another day at the amusement park.

The operator’s voice booms over the speakers, laughter in his tone. “Hold the pretty girl, Romeo!”

Jennie, Lisa, Jisoo, and Rose dissolve into howls of laughter from their seats. “Oh my god, Y/N!” Jennie screams. “You’re fucking killing me!”

The ride jerks again, and you slip slightly, but Jisung’s grip tightens, one hand still braced on the bar. “I got you,” he says smoothly, his flirty smirk returning. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

Minho, Felix, and Hyunjin are practically crying with laughter. “Hold her tight, Romeo!” Minho repeats through his cackling.

Felix wipes tears from his eyes. “This is fucking gold.”

The ride jerks and spins, the platform hurtling through the air with each twist, each violent lurch making Jisung grip the bar tighter. He’s barely aware of the ride itself anymore; all his focus is on you. How you’re pressed against him, your body bouncing in his lap with every sudden movement. Every jolt sends another wave of heat through him, but he has to fight it.

"Fuck," Jisung mutters under his breath, trying to keep his composure. His arm, locked securely around your waist, pulls you closer each time the ride moves. His other hand is wrapped around the bar, knuckles white from the strain of holding on. He’s trying so hard not to let his body betray him.

Your pink dress shifts with each bounce, and Jisung can feel the fabric sliding against his leg as you move in his lap. His teeth dig into his lower lip, and his mind goes to desperate places. Thinking about his grandma, his fucking grandma, just to keep things in check.

"Hold the bar, Romeo!" the operator calls out, his voice booming through the speakers, and Jisung does just that, holding on for dear life, trying not to think about how soft you feel against him, how your warmth makes his pulse quicken.

You don’t seem to be bothered by the closeness at all. Your face, calm and composed, doesn’t show any sign of embarrassment, even as you slide up and down in his lap with every turn of the ride. You’re so fucking graceful, even in the chaos, and Jisung can’t help but admire it, hell, he’s pretty sure he's never been this close to a girl, and yet he doesn't feel like you're awkward or uncomfortable.

And fuck, you’re beautiful.

Just when Jisung thinks he’s going to lose his mind from the pressure of holding you so close, the ride jerks again, and this time, it’s more intense than before. The entire group of riders is thrown in every direction, and with one final violent lurch, Jisung and you are sent crashing to the floor of the ride.

"Shit!" Jisung grunts, barely keeping you from slamming face-first into the ground. But he can’t hold on, and you both end up sprawled on the floor, laughing despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Over in another corner, Minho and Felix aren’t faring much better. The ride has whipped them into a tangle of limbs, and for a moment, it looks like they’re trying to sort out who’s on top of who. Minho’s face is flushed, and Felix is doing everything he can to avoid making eye contact, his cheeks bright red as he tries to push himself up from the floor.

“Fucking hell,” Minho mutters, grinning at Felix’s red face as he struggles to get up. “You’re such a mess, Felix.”

“I- Shut up!” Felix huffs, pushing Minho off of him, his face an even deeper shade of pink now. He’s trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but the whole ride is practically howling with laughter at the scene.

"Fucking drama queens," Hyunjin laughs, his voice cutting through the noise. He’s sitting upright with a shit-eating grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Fucking hell, I’m never riding this shit again,” Felix mutters under his breath, pushing himself to his feet, but he can’t stop the wide smile creeping across his face.

“God, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed, Felix,” Minho teases again, his voice smooth, playful, and just a little too suggestive.

“Fuck you, Minho,” Felix responds, but it’s not harsh. More like an endearing complaint.

Meanwhile, Jisung and you are still trying to right yourselves, laughing as you both get to your feet.

"Fuck," Jisung says with a grin, giving you a quick glance. “That was a hell of a ride, huh?”

You blink at him silently, but the look in your eyes is enough to make Jisung’s grin widen. He’s about to say something else when the operator hits another switch, jerking the ride once again, this time sending you sliding back toward your friends, who are standing at the edge of the platform watching the chaos unfold.

But in a desperate attempt to keep her balance, you grab hold of Rose, your best friend, yanking her toward you for support.

“Ah!” Rose squeals, stumbling backwards. “What the hell, Y/N?” She tries to pull away, but it’s too late, she’s already tumbling, and in the blink of an eye, she’s crashing straight into Hyunjin.

“Whoa!” Hyunjin grins, his eyes sparkling as he catches Rose effortlessly in his arms. “Well, hello there, Elsa.”

Rose’s face is completely blank for a moment, her eyes wide and unblinking. She’s staring at Hyunjin like she’s seen a ghost, or, more likely, the most beautiful guy she’s ever seen in her life.

“Uh, hi,” Rose finally breathes, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

Hyunjin looks down at her, amused, and flashes a charming grin. “Did you enjoy the ride, Elsa?”

Rose, still dazed, can’t seem to get her words straight. “I- I... what?” Her voice is almost too quiet, like she's too stunned to respond properly. Hyunjin’s presence is doing something to her, something that has her blushing like a schoolgirl.

The other riders are howling with laughter, and the onlookers, who’ve gathered near the ride, are absolutely losing their shit at the sight of the tangled mess of limbs. Some of them are even filming, clearly thinking this will be some viral gold.

"You guys are a fucking mess," Jisung chuckles, eyes still focused on you as you try to regain your balance, laughing with your friends. “But seriously, Y/N, you okay?”

You nod, giving him a small smile, and Jisung can’t help but feel like his heart might just burst from the simple way you look at him. Calm, serene, unbothered by the chaos around you. He wishes he could just reach out and hold you, but the ride’s still going, and the operator’s having too much fun with his matchmaking antics.

“Hold tight, Romeo!” the operator shouts again, as if he can sense the tension in the air, the way Jisung is still holding onto the bar with one hand, his other arm around your waist, trying not to make things worse.

Jisung doesn't care anymore. He pulls you a little closer, his grip tightening slightly as the ride spins once more. He holds you like you belong in his arms, and he’s not about to let go anytime soon.

The laughter from the other riders continues, but for Jisung, everything seems to quiet down except for the rhythm of your breath, the steady beat of his heart, and the way you’ve become the centre of his world, even if just for this one insane moment.

And fuck, he doesn’t want it to end.

The boys regroup by a nearby bench under the flickering lights of the boardwalk, the salty ocean air mixing with the sweetness of funnel cakes and fried snacks. Jisung, Felix, Hyunjin, and Minho look like they’ve just survived a small war, their hair tousled, shirts rumpled, and faces still flushed from the chaos of the ride.

“How you all feeling?” Chan asks, grinning as he leans back against the bench, arms crossed. His blue hair catches the light, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

“Me and Minho got real up close and personal,” Felix says, dragging a hand through his blonde hair, his freckled cheeks pinker than usual.

Minho doesn’t miss a beat, wiggling his eyebrows with a shit-eating grin. “Didn’t know you were so flexible, Lix.”

Felix groans, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “You’re such an asshole.”

Changbin snorts, sipping from a soda cup. “You two should just fuck already. The tension’s killing the rest of us.”

Felix sputters, his face going beet red, but Minho only smirks wider, clearly enjoying the teasing. “What can I say? I’ve got that effect on people.”

Seungmin pushes his ridiculous sunglasses up his nose and deadpans, “Your effect is that you’re unbearable.”

“Love you too, Minnie,” Minho quips, blowing him a kiss.

Jisung, leaning casually against the railing, suddenly grins, his gaze drifting over the boardwalk. “I’m in love.”

Hyunjin, brushing nonexistent lint off his shirt, chimes in with a dreamy sigh. “Same.”

The group collectively turns to look where the two are staring. Across the boardwalk, you and Rose are arm in arm, laughing with Jennie, Jisoo, and Lisa as you wait at a stall for alcoholic slushies. Your cherry-red hair gleams under the lights, and your pink dress clings perfectly to your frame as you lean into Rose, whispering something that makes her giggle.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Jeongin mutters, following their line of sight. “Kappa girls?”

Chan groans, running a hand down his face. “Oh, no. Not Kappa girls. Theta Tau has already laid claim on them. You wanna start a frat brawl?”

Hyunjin shrugs, unbothered, his black hair falling into his eyes. “Theta Tau can suck my dick.”

“Pretty sure they’d need instructions first,” Jisung adds, smirking. His eyes flick back to you, the edges of his mouth curling further. “Besides, they can’t lay claim on people. Sleeping Beauty over there?” He gestures toward you with his chin. “I’m gonna woo the shit out of her.”

Hyunjin raises his hand lazily. “And Elsa? She’s mine.”

Seungmin snickers. “You two are dead men walking.”

“You think I’m scared of those Theta Tau pricks?” Jisung scoffs, pushing off the railing and brushing off his shirt. “They can try all they want. I’ll sweep her off her feet.”

Hyunjin, ever the picture of elegance even in chaos, flips his hair dramatically. “Same goes for Rose. She’s a vision. Theta Tau can’t compete with this.” He gestures to himself with a flourish.

Chan sighs heavily, though his lips twitch with amusement. “You guys are insane. Theta Tau isn’t going to like this.”

“Who gives a fuck what they like?” Minho drawls, his voice dripping with disdain. He pops a fry into his mouth before continuing, “Theta Tau can lick my balls after practice. Everyone knows we’re the better frat anyway.”

Changbin nods in agreement, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, they’re all talk and no action. Bunch of little bitches.”

“They won’t dare face us in a fight,” Minho continues, crossing his arms. “I say we help our boys land their princesses.”

Chan’s expression shifts, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Then count me in. I’ve had my eye on Jennie Kim for months.”

Seungmin snorts. “This is shaping up to be a disaster.”

“Or a fucking masterpiece,” Jisung counters, his grin wide as he leans against the railing again, his dark eyes fixed on you. You’re sipping your bright pink slush, your laugh carrying across the boardwalk as Jennie clinks her drink against yours. “Either way, Sleeping Beauty’s gonna know my name by the end of the night.”

Hyunjin nudges him playfully. “Just don’t fuck it up.”

“Please,” Jisung replies, tossing his hair back dramatically. “When have I ever fucked up?”

The group exchanges knowing glances, bursting into laughter.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jisung groans, though his grin never wavers. His eyes flick back to you, watching as you and Rose wander off with your group, arm in arm. “Seriously, though. I’m calling it now, she’s gonna be my girlfriend, maybe even my wife.”

The living room of the Alpha Phi frat house is a cacophony of noise and heat, the oppressive summer weather turning the place into a makeshift sauna. Ceiling fans spin lazily overhead, providing little relief as the guys lounge on mismatched couches and beanbags, their laughter echoing off the old wooden walls. The room smells faintly of sweat, soda, and the faint sweetness of Felix’s strawberry tanghulu, the sticky glaze glinting in the sunlight streaming through the large bay windows.

“Alright, assholes,” Jisung calls out, clapping his hands together as he strides into the room. He’s wearing only a pair of black shorts, leaving his heavily tattooed torso fully on display. “Everyone shut the fuck up and pay attention. We’re about to change lives here.”

“By lives, he means his own,” Changbin mutters, lounging in a beanbag chair as he scrolls on his phone. “Or maybe ruin them.”

“Shut up, Binnie,” Hyunjin says, striding in behind Jisung, his laptop tucked under one arm. He looks as immaculate as ever despite the heat, his long black hair pulled back into a loose bun that somehow only adds to his annoyingly perfect features. “You’re going to thank us when this works.”

“If it works,” Jeongin adds from his spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow. He’s fanning himself lazily with a notebook, his legs draped over the armrest.

“It’ll fucking work,” Chan says, entering last with a determined look. His short blue hair is damp from a recent shower, and his sleeveless shirt reveals the toned muscles that only add to his already intimidating presence. “We’ve got a plan.”

“A stupid plan,” Seungmin mutters, adjusting his position in the chair he’s sprawled in. “But whatever. Let’s see it.”

Felix is curled up next to Minho on the couch, his head resting on Minho’s shoulder as he eats his tanghulu one sticky bite at a time. Minho has one arm draped casually around him, and the sight draws a few knowing smirks from the others, though no one comments. Felix doesn’t even bother looking up. “This better be worth it. It’s fucking boiling in here.”

Hyunjin plugs his laptop into the TV, and the screen flashes to life, displaying the opening slide of their PowerPoint: “Mission Princess: How to Woo and Not Fuck It Up.”

“Gentlemen,” Hyunjin begins, standing dramatically in front of the TV. “We have prepared a step-by-step presentation on how to win the hearts of our respective princesses.”

Jisung nods, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the back of the couch. “That’s right. Last night, we did some cyberstalking- sorry, research- on our ladies. Y/N, Rose, and Jennie. Criminal law students and a forensic science major. They’re smart as hell, and we’re dumb as fuck, so we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Jeongin snorts. “Finally some self-awareness.”

“Shut it, you little shit,” Jisung fires back, flipping him off.

Hyunjin clicks to the next slide, which reads in bold letters: “Step 1: Get to Know Them.” Beneath it are three subsections, each with a ridiculous photoshopped picture of the Alpha Phi members standing in for the women they’re talking about. For Jennie, there’s Chan wearing a wig and holding a coffee cup. For Rose, it’s Hyunjin in a blue cardigan with a fake rose in his hand. And for Y/N, it’s Jisung in a sparkly pink dress and platform boots.

The room bursts into laughter.

“What the fuck is that?” Changbin howls, pointing at the screen. “Jisung, you look like a rejected K-pop trainee.”

“It’s called commitment, bitch,” Jisung replies with a smirk. “Now shut up and let me do my part.”

Hyunjin gestures for him to take the stage. Jisung pushes off the couch and stands in front of the screen, tapping the slide with a finger. “Alright, listen up, assholes. Y/N is a criminal law student. She’s smart as fuck, probably smarter than all of us combined, so don’t even try to bullshit her. She likes romantic poetry and she wears a lot of pink.” He grins, gesturing to his photoshopped picture. “Obviously, she’s got taste.”

“Obviously,” Seungmin mutters under his breath.

“Your turn, Hyunjin,” Jisung says, stepping aside.

Hyunjin clicks to the next subsection and steps forward, gesturing dramatically to the screen. “Rose. Also a criminal law student. She’s into art galleries, which means she has class, unlike some of you heathens.” He shoots a pointed look at Changbin, who flips him off without hesitation. “And she’s from New Zealand. She’s got that accent, you know, the kind that makes everything sound sexy.”

“That explains why you’re so into her,” Felix teases from Minho’s shoulder.

Hyunjin ignores him and motions to Chan. “Take it away.”

Chan clicks to the final subsection, where his own ridiculous photoshopped picture stares back at him. “Jennie,” he begins, his voice serious. “Forensic science major. Wicked smart. In her free time, she releases music. Also drinks coffee like it’s fucking crack, which, same. So, obviously, we’re perfect for each other.”

“Sure you are,” Minho quips, grinning. “And I’m the Pope.”

Chan ignores him and clicks to the next slide, which shows a bullet-pointed plan for the next steps. It’s completely absurd, involving things like “accidentally” running into the girls at their favourite café and “strategically” inviting them to Alpha Phi parties.

“You realize this is fucking insane, right?” Jeongin says, shaking his head as he glances at the screen. “This isn’t a plan. It’s a shitshow waiting to happen.”

“Shut up, Jeongin,” Jisung says, crossing his arms. “This is how legends are made.”

“And how restraining orders are filed,” Seungmin mutters, earning a snicker from Felix.

“Whatever,” Jisung says, ignoring the laughter. “We’re doing this. We’re gonna woo the shit out of these girls. And when we succeed, you’re all gonna eat your words.”

“Or just eat shit,” Changbin adds with a grin.

Jisung’s grin widens. “Either way, it’s gonna be a fucking masterpiece.”

Hyunjin clicks to the next slide and the words “Q&A Section: Don’t Be Dumbasses” flash across the screen in bold neon lettering, surrounded by a ridiculous cartoon of a brain with arms shrugging dramatically. The room erupts into laughter, and Hyunjin raises his hands for quiet.

“Alright, shut up,” he says, trying to sound authoritative but failing as his lips twitch into a grin. “We figured some of you would have questions because, let’s be real, half of you have the romantic instincts of a wet mop.”

Changbin leans back in his beanbag chair, raising his hand lazily. “Yeah, I’ve got one. What the fuck are you gonna do if this whole plan backfires, and they think you’re creepy instead of charming?”

Chan snorts. “First of all, fuck you for your lack of faith, Binnie. Second, it’s all about execution. We’re not just sliding into their lives uninvited. We’re creating opportunities for organic connections.”

“Organic?” Seungmin repeats, raising an eyebrow. “You mean like how stalking their social media last night was ‘organic’?”

Jisung waves a hand dismissively. “That was reconnaissance. Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s already weird,” Jeongin says, snickering. “Anyway, what’s the backup plan if they straight-up reject you?”

“Then we die of heartbreak,” Hyunjin says dramatically, clutching his chest. “But it won’t happen because we’re hot.”

“You’re hot,” Felix mutters, stuffing another piece of tanghulu into his mouth. “Can’t say the same for everyone here.”

“Rude,” Jisung deadpans, gesturing to himself. “Look at me. I’m a fucking work of art.”

“You’re a work of something,” Minho says, smirking. “Anyway, serious question: what if Theta Tau finds out and starts shit? You know they’re territorial as fuck.”

Chan crosses his arms, his expression hardening. “We’re ready for that. In fact...” He gestures to Hyunjin, who clicks to the next slide. The words “Battle Plan for Theta Tau” flash across the screen, accompanied by an overly dramatic image of the Alpha Phi crest.

The entire room bursts into laughter.

“The plan is literally just to beat them up?” Felix asks, pointing at the screen, where the only strategy listed reads: 1. Fight them. 2. Beat them up.

“It’s a classic,” Jisung says, shrugging nonchalantly. “Why complicate things?”

“You do realize this isn’t Game of Thrones, right?” Jeongin asks, rolling his eyes. “You can’t just fight them for dominance.”

“Sure we can,” Changbin says, cracking his knuckles. “They’re all bark and no bite. It’d be over in five minutes.”

“Or it’d escalate into a full-on frat war,” Seungmin mutters, clearly unimpressed. “But hey, whatever keeps you entertained.”

Hyunjin clears his throat. “Let’s focus on the actual goal here, which is wooing our princesses. Any other questions?”

Felix raises his hand, his tone uncharacteristically uncertain. “What happens if, you know, they’re not into it? Like, what if they’re already seeing someone?”

Jisung leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. “Then we play it cool. Back off and respect their boundaries. But that’s not gonna happen because I’m telling you, Sleeping Beauty looked at me like I was her goddamn Prince Charming.”

“You mean she fell into your lap because of a ride,” Jeongin says, grinning.

“Details,” Jisung says, waving him off. “Any other dumbass questions?”

When no one speaks up, Hyunjin clicks to the next slide, which reads: “Pitch Your Ideas” in obnoxiously bright colours. He gestures to the group. “This is your chance to contribute. Any brilliant ideas?”

Minho is the first to speak, leaning back with a lazy smirk. “You could accidentally spill coffee on them and offer to buy them a new one. Classic rom-com move.”

“That’s a shit idea,” Changbin says immediately. “What if they get pissed and throw it back in your face?”

Minho shrugs. “Then at least you’ll smell like coffee.”

Felix perks up. “What about leaving them anonymous notes? Like, romantic ones. Poetry and shit.”

“That’s creepy,” Seungmin says flatly. “They’d think they have a stalker.”

“You mean like what they already are?” Jeongin quips, earning a round of laughter.

“Okay, genius,” Felix says, glaring at Seungmin. “What’s your idea?”

“Don’t have one,” Seungmin replies, smirking. “I’m just here to watch the train wreck.”

Jisung groans, running a hand through his hair. “You’re all useless. From the data gathered, it’s clear none of us are experts in dating women long-term.”

“Felix and I are gay,” Minho says, raising his hand like a student answering a question. “We tried our best.”

Jisung snaps his fingers. “You two could befriend them. Girls love the gays.”

Felix tilts his head, considering this. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Minho nods slowly. “Yeah, we could be the friendly middlemen. Butter them up a little.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jisung says, clapping his hands together. “See? Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Hyunjin clicks to the next slide, which features a crudely drawn diagram of a heart surrounded by arrows labelled with absurd strategies like “be charming as fuck,” “don’t trip over your own dick,” and “look hot at all times.”

“This is our roadmap to success,” Hyunjin says, dead serious despite the ridiculousness of the slide. “If we stick to the plan, there’s no way we can fail.”

“No way you can fail,” Seungmin corrects. “The rest of us are just here for moral support.”

“Or to clean up the mess when this goes to shit,” Jeongin adds, grinning.

Chan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, let’s wrap this up. We’ve got work to do.”

“And princesses to woo,” Jisung adds, his confident grin lighting up the room. Despite the chaos, the fire in his eyes makes it clear he’s all in and nothing’s going to stop him.

The warm glow of Jennie’s room in the Kappa Tau sorority house feels like a cosy bubble away from the chaos of campus life. The soft hum of 90 Day Fiance plays in the background, the ridiculous drama on-screen prompting bursts of laughter from the girls lounging around the room. It smells faintly of vanilla candles, wine, and the comforting sweetness of melting ice cream.

Jennie’s room is the epitome of comfort and indulgence. Fairy lights strung around the walls cast a golden glow over plush rugs and mismatched pillows. Her large hanging swing chair is padded with layers of cushions and blankets, where you and Rose are curled up together. Both of you wear matching pastel pink silk robes, your hair clipped back in messy buns, and snail sheet masks clinging to your faces.

“This is the best idea ever,” Lisa says, her voice muffled through her own mask as she leans against the bed, spooning rocky road ice cream out of the pint. Her long legs are stretched out in front of her, the silky fabric of her light blue robe shimmering under the lights. “Wine, ice cream, and trash TV? Literal heaven.”

“Literal trash too,” Jisoo retorts from her spot on the floor, cross-legged with a glass of rosé in one hand and a pint of mint chocolate chip in the other. She pushes her own robe sleeve, emerald green, up her arm, careful not to spill her wine. “But, I mean, who are we kidding? This show is iconic.”

“You just like watching other people’s relationships implode,” Jennie teases from the bed, lounging with one arm draped over Felix, who is wearing a lavender robe like he’s been part of this group his whole life. Minho is stretched out on the chaise in a black silk robe, one arm resting lazily on the back, smirking as if he too has always belonged in this little sorority circle.

Felix chuckles, his freckles crinkling as he spoons some ice cream into his mouth. “I mean, she’s not wrong. It’s like watching a train wreck you can’t look away from.”

“Speaking of train wrecks,” Minho begins, his grin widening as he sets down his wine glass. “Did you hear about that cheerleader on the squad? Chloe? Apparently, she got caught going down on the gymnastics coach under the bleachers.”

“No fucking way,” Lisa gasps, sitting up straighter and nearly knocking her ice cream over.

“It’s true,” Felix says, nodding with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Word’s all over campus. Someone filmed it. She got suspended, and the coach might lose his job.”

Jennie lets out a low whistle, swirling her wine glass. “How do people even get themselves into situations like that? Like, the bleachers? Really?”

“People are just nasty,” Jisoo says, shaking her head as she takes another spoonful of ice cream. “I mean, couldn’t she wait until she's, I don’t know, not a public fucking place?”

Rose giggles softly from beside you, her head resting lightly against your shoulder. “That’s so wild. I don’t even know how she thought she wouldn’t get caught.”

“Desperate people don’t think straight,” Minho says with a smirk. “Or maybe she just really likes the thrill of getting caught.”

Lisa throws a pillow at him. “You’re gross.”

He dodges it with a laugh. “Hey, just saying. Different strokes for different folks.”

Felix shakes his head, grinning. “You’re the worst, Minho.”

From your spot in the swing chair, you speak up quietly, your voice soft but full of curiosity. “Do you think she regrets it? Or do you think she’s just embarrassed because she got caught?”

The room falls quiet for a moment as everyone processes your question.

“Honestly,” Rose says, her voice gentle, “she’s probably just overwhelmed. I mean, it’s bad enough making a mistake, but having it become a campus-wide scandal must be horrible.”

“That’s so you, Y/N,” Jennie says with a fond smile, leaning back on the bed. “Always finding a way to sympathize with someone. You’re too good for this world.”

Lisa nods. “Yeah, if it were me, I’d be mortified but also probably pissed as hell. Like, why’s everyone so nosy?”

Jisoo shrugs. “Because drama is free entertainment.”

Jennie laughs. “You’re a menace, Jisoo.”

Felix, ever the peacemaker, adds, “Still, she didn’t deserve to have her business put on blast like that. People can be so cruel.”

“True,” Minho says, surprisingly serious for once. “But let’s not act like she didn’t bring at least some of it on herself.”

Jennie raises her wine glass. “Here’s to not giving head under bleachers.”

The group laughs, clinking glasses and pints together in mock celebration.

Rose squeezes your hand gently, a small smile on her face. “You’d never get caught up in something like that,” she says softly. “You’re too smart.”

“Neither would you.”

“Yeah, because you two are fucking angels,” Lisa says, rolling her eyes. “That’s why we have to protect you.”

Jennie nods, her tone teasing but affectionate. “We’re your big sisters. No one’s messing with our sweethearts.”

“Not on our watch,” Jisoo adds, raising her spoon like a weapon.

Minho and Felix exchange a glance, and Minho smirks. “Guess we’re part of the protective circle now, huh?”

Jennie narrows her eyes playfully. “We’ll see. You have to earn it.”

Felix leans into her, fluttering his lashes dramatically. “Have I not earned it already?”

Jennie laughs, ruffling his hair, before she glances at you and Rose curled up in the swing chair. Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “You two ready for your great love stories to kick off?”

Rose lifts her head from your shoulder, her cheeks pink, though whether it’s from the wine or embarrassment is unclear. “It was just a bit,” she says quickly, though the soft hesitation in her voice betrays her uncertainty.

You nod along, keeping your expression neutral. “Right, just a funny little moment.”

Lisa, sprawled out on the floor with her second pint of ice cream, snorts loudly. “No, no. Those two Alpha Phi boys are into the two of you. Big time. It’s not just a ‘moment,’ babes.”

Rose’s face heats further, and she buries her face in her hands with a groan. “Oh my god, stop.”

Jisoo smirks, her gaze flicking between the two of you like a cat toying with its prey. “They’re not just into you. They’re in love. I’m calling it now.”

Minho, perched on the chaise like he owns the place, raises a hand lazily. “Can confirm.”

Felix, snuggled next to him, nods enthusiastically. “Super interested. Like, they won’t shut up about it.”

Rose sits up straighter, her wide eyes darting to you. Before either of you can respond, Jennie leans forward, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Are you two interested? Be honest.”

You and Rose exchange a panicked glance before simultaneously picking up the wine bottle on the nearby table. You tip it slightly, squinting at the label like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Oh, wow, fermented,” you say, nodding like a sommelier. “Uh-huh. Grapes. Cool.”

Rose nods along vigorously. “Yeah, so fascinating. It’s aged! Love that. Great stuff.”

Lisa bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubles over. “Holy shit, you two are so bad at this.”

“Seriously,” Jennie adds, her voice full of exasperated fondness. “It’s okay to admit you’re at least curious.”

Rose sets the bottle down, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “What about Theta Tau?” she asks hesitantly. “You know what they’re like.”

At the mention of the rival fraternity, Jennie’s playful smile vanishes, replaced by a steely determination. “I’m not afraid to smack a dickhead Theta boy if he starts shit.”

Lisa, Minho, Felix, and Jisoo all nod in agreement, their expressions mirroring Jennie’s resolve.

“They’re all talk anyway,” Minho says, rolling his eyes. “Big egos, no guts. I’d pay to see one of them try something.”

Felix grins. “Right? Jennie would take them out before they even got a word in.”

You shake your head, your quiet voice cutting through the heated energy. “No, seriously, guys. Rose and I can’t handle confrontation or tension. Like, at all.”

Rose nods emphatically, her soft voice chiming in. “We’ll stroke out. Full-on death by stress.”

Jennie’s expression softens slightly, her protective instincts kicking in. “Alright, alright. We’ll keep them in check. But you two don’t need to worry about Theta Tau. We’ve got your backs.”

You glance at Rose, who gives you a small smile. “Besides,” you add with a faint laugh, “don’t you like Chan?”

Jennie’s cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn’t miss a beat. “Yep,” she says with a smirk. “I’m just waiting for him to do something about it.”

Minho snorts loudly, his laughter filling the room. “Good fucking luck with that. Chan’s great at a lot of things, but making a move? Not one of them.”

“Hey, he’s getting there,” Felix chimes in, though even he sounds doubtful.

Jennie shrugs, leaning back against her pillows. “I’ve got time. But you two? Your boys are already making moves. You better be ready for what’s coming.”

The hallways of the criminal law department buzz with the usual post-lecture chatter as you and Rose step out of the classroom. The air feels heavy with the scent of old books and faint traces of someone’s too-strong cologne. You tug at the hem of your cropped lace-trim camisole, the pink and black leather racer jacket you’re wearing fitting snugly over your shoulders. Your messy bun is starting to come loose, strands of cherry-red hair brushing against your face as you adjust the strap of your bag.

“God, that lecture felt like it lasted ten fucking years,” Rose mutters, her voice tinged with exhaustion as she shifts her black leather jacket. She’s dressed in black baggy jeans, a white crop top, and chunky boots, her dark hair twisted into two neat buns that frame her face.

“Seriously,” you agree as you glance at her. “If Professor Kim said the words ‘precedent’ or ‘jurisprudence’ one more time, I think my brain would’ve shut down.”

Rose snorts, nudging you playfully. “You’re too polite to say it, but you were zoning out just as much as I was.”

You smile, your laugh blending with the bustling sounds of students moving through the hall. The two of you walk side by side, the weight of textbooks and notes pulling at your bags, when a loud voice rings out from down the corridor.

“Sleeping Beauty!”

You and Rose stop in your tracks, turning toward the sound. Down the hallway, Jisung and Hyunjin are approaching, their confident strides and undeniable presence turning more than a few heads. Jisung’s hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way that looks both effortless and intentional, his tattoos peeking out from under a fitted black shirt, his ripped jeans and combat boots giving him an edge that matches his cocky grin.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks ethereal. His black hair falls in loose waves around his sharp features, his long coat flowing slightly behind him as he walks. He looks like he’s stepped out of a magazine, his striking confidence tempered with a touch of artistry in the way he moves.

Jisung reaches you first, stopping just a step too close for comfort but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s electric. “This is for you,” he says, holding out a single pink rose. The petals shimmer faintly under the fluorescent lights, and you realize it’s fake.

You blink, momentarily stunned, and he winks at you. “Plastic doesn’t die,” he says, his tone teasing but soft. “Like my charm.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you manage a quiet, “Thank you,” as you take the rose.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, turns to Rose with a small, knowing smile. “And this is for you.” He hands her a white rose, the elegant simplicity of it mirroring the way he carries himself. “Something as timeless as you.”

Rose’s jaw drops slightly, but before she can respond, both boys turn on their heels, walking away with matching smirks.

“Did that just fucking happen?” Rose asks, still staring after them.

You look at the rose in your hand, the faint blush in your cheeks deepening. “I… think so?”

The two of you turn to look at each other, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter. Without a word, you lift your hands for a high five, the sharp clap echoing down the hall as your giggles fill the space.

Rose, still grinning, tucks the white rose into one of her buns, the delicate petals standing out against her dark hair. “It suits me, doesn’t it?” she asks, posing dramatically.

“Perfectly,” you reply with a smile, sliding the pink rose into your messy bun, securing it in place. “How do I look?”

“Adorable, as always,” Rose says, nudging your shoulder lightly.

As the two of you start walking again, Rose’s smile softens into something more thoughtful. “Maybe we really will have great love stories,” she muses. “I mean, did you see Hyunjin? He looked like a fucking dream.”

You chuckle quietly, glancing down at the rose in your hand before slipping it into your hair. “Jisung’s tattoos, I like a man with tattoos.”

Rose laughs, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Reckon Hyunjin will paint me? Either make me a portrait or paint my skin. I don’t mind either way.”

You laugh along with her, the sound light and carefree. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he offered. He seems the type to do something dramatic like that.”

Rose sighs dreamily, her expression wistful. “Well, if this is the start of a great love story, I’m not complaining.”

You nod, your smile soft. “Me neither.”

The two of you exit the building into the afternoon sun, the warmth on your skin mirroring the quiet excitement blooming in your chest. Whatever happens next, it feels like the start of something beautiful.

The sound of loud music and boisterous laughter fills the Alpha Phi frat house as the boys lounge in the living room. Empty snack wrappers and soda cans are scattered across the coffee table, and Changbin and Jeongin are locked in an intense game of Mario Kart on the big screen, shouting insults at each other with every near-miss.

“Jeongin, you little shit, stop spamming red shells!” Changbin yells, leaning forward on the couch like his life depends on it.

“It’s called strategy, old man,” Jeongin shoots back, grinning as his character zooms past Changbin’s on the final lap.

Jisung leans back in an armchair, shirtless as usual, a tattooed arm draped lazily over the armrest. “Binnie’s gonna cry again. Somebody get a tissue.”

“Fuck off, Sung,” Changbin grumbles, his eyes glued to the screen.

Before anyone can respond, there’s a knock at the door, sharp and deliberate. Chan, who’s been scrolling on his phone from the other couch, groans but gets up to answer it.

“What now?” he mutters, pulling the door open.

Standing there are Jennie, Jisoo, and Lisa, each of them dressed casually but exuding the kind of confidence that instantly commands attention. Jennie crosses her arms, a sly smile on her face as she looks up at Chan.

“We’re here to help your two boys woo our two girls,” she announces without preamble. “Y/N and Rose are watching some true crime doc and drinking wine, so we decided to come here.”

Chan blinks, momentarily taken aback, before stepping aside. “Uh, come in.”

Jennie strides in like she owns the place, Lisa and Jisoo following close behind. They make their way into the living room, where the boys look up from their various positions, confusion written all over their faces.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Hyunjin asks, raising an eyebrow as he adjusts his ponytail.

Jennie ignores him, pulling a folded piece of paper from her bag and holding it up like a declaration of war. “We have a plan. A carwash fundraiser for students with learning disabilities. Girls will be in bikini tops and shorts. Guys in just swimming trunks. Stereotypical as hell, but effective.”

“Wait, what?” Jisung sits up straighter, his eyebrows shooting up. “Why are we-?”

“Because,” Jennie interrupts, her tone sharp, “this is important to Y/N and Rose. Rose has dyscalculia, and Y/N has dyslexia. This fundraiser actually matters to them, so you two are going to be there.”

Jisung glances at Hyunjin, who nods without hesitation. “Of course, we’ll be there,” Hyunjin says simply, his tone resolute.

“Good,” Jennie smirks, satisfied, before tossing the flyer onto the coffee table.

The room falls silent for a moment as the boys process what’s happening, but Jennie isn’t done. “Actually, you’re all going to be there,” she says, her gaze sweeping the room. “Every single one of you.”

“Do we have a choice?” Seungmin asks dryly, not even looking up from his phone.

“Nope.” Jisoo grins, pulling a clipboard from behind her back and handing it to Chan. “Sign your names, boys.”

Chan sighs but takes the pen, scribbling his name at the top before passing it to Minho. “This better be worth it.”

“It will be,” Jennie says with certainty.

As the clipboard makes its way around the room, Lisa crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “Think sexy,” she says, her tone casual but firm. “Oil yourselves up or something. We need to make this fundraiser a success.”

Minho smirks as he scribbles his name down. Without missing a beat, he turns to Felix, who’s sitting beside him. “You gonna oil me up, Lix?”

Felix blinks rapidly, his freckles darkening as his cheeks flush bright red. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and he looks like a fish gasping for air.

The room erupts in laughter, and Felix buries his face in his hands. “Minho, you’re the fucking worst.”

Minho grins, unfazed. “Love you too.”

Jennie clears her throat, cutting through the chaos. “Now, let’s talk about Theta Tau.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Those moronic, douchey frat boys think they have some kind of claim on us.”

Jennie’s gaze sharpens as she turns to Chan, her smile turning into a smirk. “Must be why you haven’t asked me on a date, Bang Chan.”

Chan’s jaw drops slightly, his confident demeanour faltering as he gapes at her. “I- What?”

The room goes silent for a beat before the boys start snickering. Jisung covers his mouth with his hand, but his eyes gleam with amusement. Jeongin outright cackles, earning a swat from Changbin.

“Shit, you’re whipped,” Minho says, his grin wicked.

Chan stammers, trying to find the words, but Jennie doesn’t wait for an answer. “You better figure it out,” she says, her tone teasing but firm. “The ball’s in your court.”

The rest of the meeting devolves into playful chaos as the Kappa Tau girls finalize their plans, leaving the Alpha Phi boys no choice but to follow along. The challenge has been set, and the stakes have never been higher.

The sun is merciless, beating down on the campus parking lot where a row of cars glint under its rays, each awaiting its turn to be scrubbed down. Early 2000s music pumps through portable speakers, adding a nostalgic rhythm to the chaotic scene. A faint scent of soapy water hangs in the air, mixing with the tang of sunscreen and the occasional whiff of hot asphalt.

Jisung adjusts the waistband of his black shorts, the only thing he’s wearing aside from his sneakers. His tattooed skin glistens faintly, a sheen of sweat already forming as he stands alongside the other Alpha Phi boys. The tattoo that spells rockstar snakes boldly down his ribs to his hip, catching the sunlight. Across his right pec, the word BLESSED is inked above a compass, while his falling Icarus tattoo stretches across his left thigh. His right leg is a patchwork of intricate designs, and the sword running down his spine, encircled by a dragon, is an attention-grabber for anyone passing by. The scorpion tattoo on his neck adds an edge that suits his cocky grin as he surveys the scene.

“Hot as balls out here,” Changbin mutters, wiping sweat from his brow. His shorts sit low on his hips, revealing his abs. “I’m sweating like I ran a fucking marathon.”

“Stop bitching,” Minho says, grinning as he elbows Changbin. “It’s for a good cause.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeongin chimes in, snapping the waistband of his own shorts. “Let’s just get this over with before we all melt.”

Jisung barely hears them, his attention snapping to a splash of pink and white near the centre of the lot. There you are, standing with Rose near a car dripping with suds, both of you laughing as you flick water at each other with the tips of your sponges.

You’re wearing a pink bikini top tied behind your neck, the knot accentuating the curve of your shoulders, and white denim shorts that sit snugly on your hips. Your hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, a few loose strands sticking to your cheeks. When you turn slightly, Jisung catches sight of a tattoo at the base of your lower back, divine, written in elegant script. Above it, angel wing tattoos span your shoulder blades, the design subtle yet striking.

Jisung feels his chest tighten, the heat of the sun nothing compared to the warmth spreading through him as he watches you laugh. Rose, standing beside you in a black bikini top and ripped jean shorts, flicks water at your legs, and your high-pitched giggle sends his stomach into free fall.

“Yo, Sung,” Hyunjin says, nudging him out of his trance. “You’re staring.”

“Shut up,” Jisung mutters, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

Felix and Minho have already wandered off to tackle a car together, Felix’s freckled face glowing under the sun as he balances a bucket of soapy water. Jennie bounces over to Chan, her bright smile causing him to straighten up almost immediately. She gestures toward a car, and the two head off, falling into an easy rhythm as they start scrubbing.

“Looks like everyone’s pairing up,” Hyunjin says, his voice lilting as he glances at Rose and you. “Guess we better make ourselves useful.”

As if on cue, you and Rose wave them over, your smiles soft and inviting. Jisoo, standing near the speaker, grins mischievously as she changes the song to My House by 2PM. The sensual beat pulses through the air, and Jisung can’t help but smirk.

“Perfect timing,” he says, tugging at the strap of a nearby bucket as he and Hyunjin head your way.

Rose points to a car beside her, her voice teasing but sweet. “Think you two can handle this one?”

“Easily,” Hyunjin replies, grabbing a sponge with a dramatic flourish. “Watch and learn, ladies.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you hand Jisung a hose. “Try not to flood the parking lot.”

“No promises,” Jisung says, taking it from you with a wink. His fingers brush yours briefly, and the contact sends a spark up his arm. He busies himself with the hose, aiming a spray of water at the car as you and Rose start scrubbing the windows.

Hyunjin crouches beside Rose, dunking his sponge into the bucket with a flourish before smearing suds dramatically across the side of the car. “I call this my masterpiece,” he declares, his voice dripping with faux seriousness.

Rose giggles, flicking water at him. “Your masterpiece looks like a toddler went crazy with finger paint.”

Jisung glances at you as you scrub the hood of the car, your movements slow and deliberate. The curve of your back as you reach forward exposes the intricate detail of your angel wing tattoos, and he swallows hard, trying to focus on his task.

“So, Sleeping Beauty,” he says, his tone casual but his grin mischievous. “When do I get my happily ever after?”

You glance up at him, your eyes bright with amusement. “That depends. Are you planning on falling asleep for a hundred years first?”

Hyunjin cackles from the other side of the car. “She got you there, Sung.”

Jisung chuckles, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” He tilts the hose slightly, spraying a light mist toward you, and you let out a soft squeal as the water splashes your legs.

“Hey!” you protest, though your voice is more laughter than anger.

“Just keeping you cool,” Jisung says with a smirk.

As the hours tick by, the heat of the sun bears down, softened only by the tangy-sweet cocktails Lisa mixes at her makeshift bar. You and Jisung stand by the next car in line, sipping drinks from plastic cups with colourful straws. Yours is a strawberry daiquiri, bright pink and refreshingly cold, while Jisung’s lime-green mojito matches the mischievous glint in his eye.

“I gotta say,” Jisung says, leaning casually against the car as he takes another sip, “Lisa might be onto something with these. Who knew cocktails and car washes went together so well?”

You laugh softly, wiping suds off your arm with a wet sponge. “Leave it to her to make everything feel like a party.”

The next car rolls in, a rusty sedan driven by an older man with a salt-and-pepper moustache and a questionable smirk. He rolls down the window as he pulls up, his eyes lingering on you a second too long.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” the man drawls, his tone sleazy. “Bet you make more tips than the other girls, sweetheart.”

Your smile falters slightly, but you recover quickly, brushing it off as you move toward the car. Jisung, however, freezes mid-sip, his dark eyes narrowing as the muscles in his jaw tighten.

“Don’t worry, sir,” you say gently, your voice soft but steady. “We’ll have your car spotless in no time.”

Jisung doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he picks up the hose, his grip firm as his thumb hovers over the nozzle. The man’s grin widens as he leans out of the window, his gaze still fixed on you.

“Hey,” Jisung says suddenly, his voice smooth but loud enough to cut through the awkward tension. “You’re parked a little close to the line. Mind adjusting?”

The man leans back slightly. “Oh, yeah? Didn’t notice-”

Before he can finish, Jisung accidentally squeezes the nozzle, sending a powerful stream of water directly into the man’s face.

“Oh shit!” Jisung exclaims, his voice filled with faux panic. “I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to-”

The man sputters, waving his hands in front of his face as the water sprays relentlessly. “Hey! Watch where you’re aiming that thing!”

“Crap, sorry!” Jisung repeats, though there’s no real urgency in his tone. If anything, his smirk is barely concealed as he adjusts his grip to send another, even stronger burst of water into the man’s face. “Must be something wrong with the hose- Ah, shit, it’s stuck!”

“Cut it out, kid!” the man huffs, wiping water from his moustache.

“Sorry, sir!” Jisung shouts, still trying to turn the hose off as he casually ups the pressure. The stream grows stronger, soaking the man’s shirt and the inside of the car door.

The commotion draws attention, and Jennie approaches with a raised eyebrow, her hands on her hips. “What’s going on here?”

The man gestures angrily, water dripping from his face and clothes. “This idiot’s hosing me down! I came for a car wash, not a goddamn shower!”

Jennie doesn’t miss a beat, her expression cool and professional despite the absurdity of the situation. “Sorry about that, sir. These hoses are college property. Government-funded, you know how it is. Sometimes they’re a bit temperamental.”

The man’s jaw drops, clearly not expecting her to brush it off so casually. “What kind of operation are you running here?!”

Jennie shrugs, tilting her head slightly. “One that raises a lot of money for good causes. But I can see you’re having a tough time. If you’d like to leave, feel free.”

The man splutters, caught between indignation and disbelief. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, rolling up the window as he starts the engine. The car jerks forward, sputtering soap suds as it disappears down the line.

Once he’s gone, Jennie turns to Jisung with a pointed look. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Jisung grins, twirling the hose dramatically before setting it back down. “I was just defending her honour. Can’t blame me for being chivalrous.”

Jennie snorts. “Chivalry, my ass.” She glances at you, her expression softening. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks, Jennie.”

“Anytime,” she says before walking off, muttering something about “men being idiots” under her breath.

As the tension eases, Jisung turns to you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “You good, Sleeping Beauty?”

You look at him, the sunlight catching the sharp edges of his tattoos and the mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. “I’m fine,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Jisung replies, echoing Jennie’s words with a wink. “Now, let’s get this next car cleaned before I scare off all our customers.”

The sun blazes overhead, relentless and unforgiving, and Jisung is feeling every degree of the heat. He stands near a car, fanning his face dramatically with one hand. “Holy shit, I’m actually melting,” he complains to no one in particular, his bare chest glistening under the sunlight. His tattoos seem to shimmer, the inked rockstar on his ribs drawing attention as it stretches with his every breath. The scorpion on his neck gleams faintly, almost as if it’s alive.

You glance over at him from where you’re rinsing a sponge, a playful idea sparking in your mind. The bucket of clean water at your feet suddenly looks less like a tool and more like an opportunity. Biting your lip to hold back a giggle, you lift the bucket carefully, tiptoeing toward him.

Jisung continues fanning himself, muttering something about needing a fucking ice bath, completely oblivious to your approach. When you’re close enough, you tip the bucket forward, the cool water cascading over his head and shoulders with a loud splash.

“What the fuck?!” Jisung yells, spinning around to face you, his hair dripping and plastered to his forehead. Water trickles down his torso, accentuating the curve of his tattoos as his eyes widen in disbelief.

You’re already backing up, laughing uncontrollably as you clutch the now-empty bucket. “You looked hot,” you tease, your voice light and sweet despite the chaos you’ve just unleashed. “Thought I’d help cool you down.”

“Oh, you’re dead,” Jisung says, dropping the fan act entirely as he grabs the nearby hose. The grin spreading across his face is equal parts playful and dangerous.

“No, no, no!” you squeal, turning on your heel and sprinting toward the nearest car for cover.

Jisung doesn’t hesitate. The hose comes to life in his hands, spraying a sharp stream of water as he chases after you. “Get back here, Sleeping Beauty!” he shouts, laughing as you duck behind the car.

Your giggles echo in the lot as you peek out from the other side of the car, your messy ponytail swaying with the movement. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Jisung counters, narrowing his eyes before aiming the hose directly at you. The water arcs through the air, catching you squarely on the side. You shriek, dashing out from behind the car in an attempt to dodge the stream.

The commotion draws attention. Rose and Hyunjin, who’ve been quietly chatting while washing a car nearby, look up just as Jisung’s spray hits you again. Rose smirks, grabbing her own sponge soaked in water, and flings it directly at Hyunjin, hitting him in the chest.

“Oh, it’s on,” Hyunjin growls, scooping up a bucket of sudsy water and launching it at her.

“What the fuck, Hyun?!” Rose yells, laughing as she gets drenched.

Jennie, who’s been working with Chan on the other side of the lot, notices the growing chaos. “Oh, hell no,” she mutters before grabbing a bucket of her own and tossing the contents in Chan’s direction.

Chan sputters, shaking water out of his blue hair before locking eyes with Jennie. His smirk is slow and deliberate. “You asked for it,” he says, lunging for the hose near his feet.

Within moments, the entire lot devolves into an all-out water fight. Lisa and Jisoo team up, grabbing buckets and sponges to take on Changbin, Felix, Minho, and Seungmin, who retaliate with hoses and cups of water. Shouts, laughter, and splashes echo through the parking lot, creating a scene of pure, unfiltered chaos.

But amid the frenzy, you and Jisung remain locked in your own battle. He corners you near the speaker, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he raises the hose. You hold up your hands, laughing breathlessly. “Truce?”

“Truce?” Jisung repeats, arching a brow. “Do I look like the kind of guy who plays fair?”

Before you can respond, he sprays a gentle mist of water over you, the droplets catching the sunlight like tiny diamonds. You laugh, brushing the water off your face as you step closer, your playful smile disarming him completely.

“You’re relentless,” you say, shaking your head.

“Only when it comes to you,” Jisung replies, his voice lower, the playful edge softening into something warmer.

Nearby, Hyunjin and Rose are in their own world, oblivious to the chaos around them. Hyunjin has ditched his sponge entirely, opting to pour bucket after bucket of water over Rose, who retaliates by flicking soap suds at his face. They’re both laughing so hard they can barely stand upright.

“Are you trying to drown me?” Rose yells, gasping for breath between giggles.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin teases, grinning as he pushes his wet hair out of his face. “But you’re too pretty to stay mad at me.”

Rose’s laughter falters for a moment, a faint blush coloring her cheeks before she grabs another sponge and flings it at him.

On the other side of the lot, Jennie and Chan have abandoned any pretense of cleaning. Jennie has somehow wrestled the hose away from him and is now gleefully spraying his chest as he tries to dodge. “This is revenge for all the shit you’ve given me, Bang Chan!” she shouts, laughing.

Chan finally grabs the hose, tugging it away from her with a triumphant grin. “Yeah? Well, let’s see how you like it!” He sprays a light stream toward her, but instead of running, Jennie steps forward, meeting his gaze with a smirk.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunts, crossing her arms despite the water dripping from her.

Chan hesitates for a second, his grin faltering as he takes in her challenging stare. “Maybe I’m going easy on you.”

“Don’t bother,” Jennie replies, her smirk widening.

Back in your corner of the chaos, Jisung finally lowers the hose, stepping closer until he’s standing just a foot away. “You having fun?” he asks, his voice soft but teasing.

You nod, brushing wet strands of hair out of your face. “More than I expected,” you admit, your quiet tone laced with warmth.

Jisung’s grin softens, his dark eyes scanning your face before locking onto yours. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you can ask what he means, he turns the hose back on, spraying a gentle arc over your head as your laughter rings out, blending perfectly with the chaos of the day.

The sun filters through the trees lining the campus path, casting dappled patterns of light on the pavement as you make your way to the library. The pink cherry-patterned mini dress you’re wearing sways lightly with each step, your light pink wedges clicking softly against the concrete. Your hair is half-up, a small bun perched on the crown of your head, and the cherries drawn in red eyeliner on your eyelids complement the delicate pink of your eye makeup. You clutch a small stack of books to your chest, the clear gloss on your lips catching the light as you hum softly to yourself.

You’re almost at the library steps when a voice cuts through the quiet bustle of campus. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You stop short as an arm drapes across your shoulders. Instinctively, your shoulders scrunch up, the weight of the unexpected contact making you tense. You clutch your books tighter to your chest, your pulse quickening as the unfamiliar Theta Tau guy leans in, his smirk a little too wide and his cologne a little too strong.

“I hear you’ve been hanging around with that walking coloring book,” he drawls, his tone mockingly casual. “What’s his name again? The Alpha Phi guy?”

You glance at him, your soft eyes darting nervously. “Jisung,” you say quietly, though your voice is barely above a whisper. “His name is Jisung.”

“Right, right,” the Theta sneers, his grip tightening slightly as he steers you closer to him. “Guy looks like a fucking graffiti wall. What’s he got that I don’t?”

Before you can respond, a sharp whistle pierces the air. The Theta’s head snaps up, and you turn your gaze over your shoulder. Jisung is walking toward you, the sun catching on the ink that decorates his legs and arms. He’s wearing a black vest tucked into black shorts, his sneakers scuffing softly against the path as he strolls. A cigarette dangles lazily between his lips, a thin stream of smoke curling upward. His dark eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unreadable, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jisung calls out, his voice light and warm, but there’s an edge of something dangerous underneath. “Ready to go?”

You seize the lifeline he’s thrown, nodding quickly as you glance up at the Theta still hanging onto your shoulders. “Sorry,” you murmur, stepping out from under his arm. “I have plans.”

The Theta scowls, his sneer deepening as he looks Jisung up and down. “Back off, Alpha Phi.”

Jisung hums, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he reaches you. He slings his arm around your shoulders with casual ease, his fingers brushing lightly against your exposed skin. You lean into him instinctively, your small frame fitting comfortably against his side.

“Move on, Theta,” Jisung says, exhaling a cloud of smoke that drifts lazily between them. His voice is calm, but his dark eyes hold a warning.

The Theta scoffs, his expression twisting into something ugly. “Is that a threat?”

Jisung’s smirk widens, his sharp canines flashing as he pulls the cigarette from his lips. “Yeah,” he says, his voice dipping lower, the word drawn out deliberately. “It is.”

The tension thickens, the quiet hum of campus life fading into the background as the two men stare each other down. You grip the edge of your books tightly, your heart pounding as you glance nervously between them.

The Theta Tau guy sneers, his hands clenching at his sides. “You think you’re tough shit, huh? Just ‘cause you’ve got some fucking tattoos?”

Jisung laughs, the sound light and almost friendly, but his grin never reaches his eyes. He leans forward slightly, his tone dropping to something darker. “I think you should walk away before I make you move. And trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

The Theta’s jaw twitches, but the look in Jisung’s eyes gives him pause. He steps back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever, man,” he mutters, glaring at you briefly before turning to leave. “Enjoy your little date.”

Jisung waits until the Theta is out of earshot before taking another drag of his cigarette, his smirk softening as he turns to you. “You okay?”

You nod, your voice quiet but steady. “Thank you, Jisung.”

“Anytime, Sleeping Beauty,” he says, his grin widening as he flicks the ash from his cigarette. “Now, come on. I wasn’t lying about those plans. Let’s get out of here before another asshole shows up.”

The library is quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages and the occasional clack of a keyboard. You and Jisung settle into a table in the back corner, away from prying eyes and the sporadic chatter of other students. The afternoon sun filters through the large windows, casting warm patches of light over the dark wooden furniture. You pull out your thick book on criminal case law in South Korea and set it on the table with a quiet thud. Next to it, you place a sleek purple cover for pages, carefully aligning it as you open the text.

Jisung watches you with mild curiosity, his tattooed arms resting lazily on the table. He’s leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out under the table, his black vest taut against his chest. “What’s that for?” he asks, nodding toward the purple overlay.

“It helps with my dyslexia,” you explain softly, smoothing the edges of the page. “The colour makes it easier for me to read without the letters swimming around.”

Jisung whistles lowly, leaning forward now, his arms folding on the table as he peers at the book. “That’s intense. What’re you studying?”

You glance up at him briefly, your lips curving into a small smile. “I have a pop quiz coming up on mens rea and actus reus in specific landmark cases involving sexual offences, murder, and assaults.”

Jisung’s brows raise, his expression caught somewhere between impressed and horrified. “Holy shit, princess. That’s heavy.”

The nickname makes your cheeks warm slightly, but you duck your head back toward your book. “It’s part of the curriculum,” you say quietly. “I need to know it.”

“Do you want me to quiz you?” he offers, his tone casual but curious.

You blink at him, surprised. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Jisung smirks, leaning back again and tipping his chair onto two legs. “I don’t do shit I don’t want to, princess.”

The nickname catches you off guard again, and you tilt your head at him. “Princess?”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “When I met you, you were dressed as one. It fits.”

Your lips twitch into a smile, and you nod toward the book. “Alright, go ahead. Just… don’t make it too easy.”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on it.” Jisung cracks his knuckles dramatically before flipping through the book, his sharp eyes scanning the dense text. He finds a section with case law summaries and leans closer, tapping one with his finger. “Alright, let’s start with this: What was the mens rea in the case of the 2003 Gwangju arson-murder incident?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “That case… the mens rea was established as intent to kill, right? The prosecution argued that the act of starting the fire directly demonstrated intent.”

“Ding ding ding,” Jisung says, grinning. “One for one. Alright, next.” He flips a few more pages, clearly enjoying himself. “Here’s a tricky one. The 1998 Seoul assault case, what was the actus reus?”

You frown, your fingers tracing the edge of the table. “That was… the act of hitting the victim with a blunt object. It was categorized as deliberate physical harm.”

“Fuck yeah, it was,” Jisung says, leaning back with a satisfied nod. “You’re a fucking genius.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Hardly. I just read a lot.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Jisung replies, his grin never wavering as he continues flipping through the book. He deliberately picks out the most obscure cases, challenging you with increasingly difficult questions, but you manage to hold your own, surprising both yourself and him.

After a while, he closes the book with a soft thud and leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his tattooed forearms. “Hey,” he says casually, his voice dropping slightly. “Wanna go to Lotte World with me next week?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “Like… a date?”

“Yeah,” he says easily, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Theme park, lots of rides, obnoxiously expensive snacks. We can get the train straight there.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance down at the book, pretending to study the cover as you gather your thoughts. “I… sure,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “That sounds nice.”

Jisung’s grin widens, and he straightens up, leaning back in his chair again. “Good. It’s a date, then.”

You look up at him, your quiet smile returning. “It’s a date.”

The moment lingers, warm and unspoken, before Jisung picks up the book again, tapping the cover playfully. “But first, let’s make sure you ace that quiz, princess.”

You laugh softly, the weight of the day lifting as the two of you settle back into studying. The world outside fades, the quiet camaraderie between you and Jisung making the library feel like a sanctuary, a place where something new and exciting is beginning to unfold.

The Alpha Phi living room is a scene of organized chaos. Empty soda cans and crumpled snack wrappers litter the coffee table, and the faint smell of pizza from last night still lingers in the air. The guys are sprawled across mismatched furniture, the summer heat making the space feel even more cramped despite the humming ceiling fan above.

Jisung sits in the corner of the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, a smug grin plastered across his face. He’s only wearing a pair of neon green shorts, an unfortunate choice, but he hasn’t gotten around to doing laundry. His arms, covered in vibrant sleeves, are propped behind his head as he lounges like he owns the place.

“Alright,” Chan says, clapping his hands together as he leans forward from his seat in the armchair. His short blue hair is damp from a quick shower, and his sleeveless hoodie leaves his muscular arms on full display. “Let’s get this shit started. Progress reports, boys. Hyunjin, you’re up first.”

Hyunjin sighs dramatically, leaning back on the chaise and tossing his black hair over his shoulder with theatrical flair. “Me and Rose are a work in progress,” he says, his tone both exasperated and smug. “She’s warming up to me, though. I mean, how could she not? I’m fucking irresistible.”

“You’re fucking insufferable,” Changbin mutters from his spot on the beanbag chair, earning a chorus of laughter from the others.

Hyunjin ignores him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “But yeah, I’m playing the long game. Slow and steady wins the race.”

“Sure it does, Romeo,” Seungmin deadpans, barely looking up from his phone.

“Alright, alright,” Chan says, raising a hand to silence the banter. “Let’s hear it, Jisung. What’s the deal with Sleeping Beauty?”

Jisung’s grin widens, and he shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly. “Let me tell you, boys, I’m fucking killing it,” he starts, his tone full of confidence. “I helped Y/N study for her pop quiz, mens rea and actus reus, all that legal shit. We spent hours together, and I didn’t even mess with her once.”

“That’s a miracle,” Felix pipes up from the floor, where he’s lying on his stomach, his chin propped on his hands. “You not messing with someone? Did hell freeze over?”

“Shut the fuck up, Lix,” Jisung says, flicking a crumpled napkin in his direction. “Anyway, I’m building the groundwork, you know? Laying a solid fucking foundation. And get this, we’re going on a date to Lotte World next week.”

Changbin sits up abruptly, his eyes wide. “No fucking way. You got her to agree to a date?”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Jisung replies, holding out his hand for a high five. Changbin slaps his palm with a grin, the sound echoing through the room.

“Alright, Mr. Disney Prince,” Jeongin says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “What’s your plan for Lotte World? Gonna serenade her on the Ferris wheel or something?”

“Jeongin, shut the fuck up before I turn your face into a punching bag,” Jisung shoots back, though his grin never wavers. “I’ve got it under control. Trust the process.”

Chan clears his throat, drawing the room’s attention back to him. “Not to flex or anything,” he starts, though his shit-eating grin suggests otherwise, “but I fucked Jennie after the car wash.”

The room erupts into chaos. Felix drops his head into his hands, cackling, while Changbin nearly chokes on his soda. Hyunjin lets out a loud, theatrical gasp, clutching his chest like he’s been mortally wounded.

“No fucking way,” Minho says, his eyebrows shooting up. “You’re telling me the president of Alpha Phi finally got his shit together?”

“Not only that,” Chan continues, his grin widening, “but we’re going out for dinner tomorrow. So, yeah, things are looking pretty fucking good.”

Hyunjin claps slowly, the sound dripping with mockery. “Look at you, Bang Chan. Finally living up to all those muscles.”

“Better late than never,” Seungmin mutters, still scrolling on his phone.

“Alright, alright,” Chan says, waving them off, though his smugness is impossible to ignore. “Let’s not make this about me. Jisung, Hyunjin, sounds like you two are on the right track. Keep it up.”

Jisung leans back again, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ve got this shit locked down.”

The air is alive with laughter, the hum of roller coasters, and the sugary aroma of cotton candy wafting through Lotte World. The vibrant colours of the park shimmer under the bright afternoon sun, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy as you walk beside Jisung. The two of you weave through the crowds, the sounds of children squealing with delight blending with the faint music playing from the park speakers.

Jisung is a striking contrast to the whimsical surroundings, dressed entirely in black. His cargo shorts and fitted vest top show off his tattoos, the falling Icarus on his left thigh catching the light as he moves. His scorpion neck tattoo peeks out just above the neckline, and his sunglasses sit low on his nose, giving him an effortlessly cool demeanour.

You, in your light blue cropped camisole and white denim shorts, feel like a pastel-coloured foil to his dark, edgy look. Your angel wing tattoos are visible on your shoulder blades, and the cursive DIVINE inked on your lower back peeks out slightly when you adjust your messy ponytail.

“We have to go on the log flume, right?” Jisung asks, breaking the comfortable silence as he glances over at you.

You nod, smiling softly. “It’s a classic.”

“Exactly,” Jisung says, grinning as he grabs your hand. His fingers are warm, his grip firm but not overbearing, and he tugs you gently in the direction of the ride. “Come on, let’s do it before the line gets insane.”

The warmth of his hand in yours sends a subtle jolt through your chest, but you follow him without hesitation, letting him lead you through the maze of attractions. The line for the log flume is shorter than expected, and soon you’re climbing into one of the wooden boats together, the faint scent of chlorine and wet wood filling the air.

Jisung slides in beside you, his arm immediately draping across the back of your seat. His closeness is impossible to ignore, his tattooed arm brushing lightly against your shoulders, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the water droplets clinging to the boat’s sides.

“You good?” he asks, his voice low but casual as he adjusts his sunglasses, glancing sideways at you.

You nod, your lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. This’ll be fun.”

The boat begins to move, the gentle rocking of the water beneath it setting the rhythm for the ride. The cool breeze that sweeps through the air feels refreshing against your skin as the boat glides past the animatronic scenes that line the route. Jisung keeps his arm where it is, his fingertips occasionally brushing against your shoulder as the two of you take in the surroundings.

When the first small drop approaches, Jisung leans closer, a playful grin on his face. “You scared of getting wet?”

You glance at him, shaking your head. “Not really. Are you?”

“Please,” he scoffs, smirking. “I live for this shit.”

The boat tips over the edge, and you let out a soft squeal as the water splashes up, misting your face and dampening the ends of your hair. Jisung laughs beside you, his arm tightening slightly around your shoulders to steady you as the boat levels out.

“Not bad,” he says, his grin widening as he glances down at you. “You good?”

You nod, brushing a few droplets off your face with the back of your hand. “I told you, I’m not scared.”

“Fair enough,” Jisung replies, his tone teasing but warm. “Guess you’re braver than I thought, princess.”

The nickname makes your cheeks heat slightly, but you don’t say anything, focusing instead on the ride as the next incline comes into view. Jisung’s arm remains around you, his casual confidence somehow grounding despite the lighthearted chaos of the moment.

As the boat begins its ascent toward the biggest drop, Jisung leans closer, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “Alright, Sleeping Beauty. Last chance to bail.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jisung chuckles, his grin almost triumphant as the boat crests the top of the hill. The drop comes fast and exhilarating, the water spraying up in a cascade of cool droplets that soak both of you. You let out a startled laugh, clutching the edge of the seat as Jisung’s laughter rings out beside you.

When the boat finally slows and the ride comes to an end, you’re both damp and breathless, the adrenaline still buzzing in your veins. Jisung pushes his sunglasses up onto his head, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement as he looks at you.

“Not bad, princess,” he says, his grin widening. “You survived.”

“Barely,” you reply, your voice soft but teasing.

Jisung laughs, his arm slipping from your shoulders as the boat comes to a stop. He steps out first, offering his hand to help you out. You take it, your fingers brushing against his, and for a moment, the rest of the park fades away.

As the two of you walk away from the ride, your clothes damp and your spirits high, Jisung glances at you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “What’s next?”

You glance around the park, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest as you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. “Whatever you want,” you say simply, your smile matching his.

Laughter echoes between you and Jisung as you stumble into the photobooth together, the curtain swishing closed behind you. The dampness from the log flume ride clings to your clothes, making the enclosed space feel slightly cooler than the blazing sun outside. The booth is cramped, forcing you to sit closer than you expected, your knees brushing against his.

“Alright, princess,” Jisung says, leaning over to press the buttons on the screen. His tattoos flex with the movement, and he flashes you a cheeky grin. “We’ve got five shots. Better make them count.”

The countdown begins, the screen flashing a giant “3… 2… 1.”

For the first photo, you both grab a pair of oversized sunglasses from the prop bin. You stand back to back, arms crossed dramatically as you point finger guns at the camera. Jisung’s grin is wide and mischievous as he tips his head slightly, the scorpion tattoo on his neck peeking out under his black sunglasses.

“Looking like a fucking action hero,” Jisung quips as the flash goes off.

“You mean a fucking cartoon,” you counter, giggling as you turn to face him.

The screen counts down again for the second shot, and this time, you’re mid-laugh. Jisung has just finished telling you about Changbin farting during a deadlift at the gym.

“It was so bad,” Jisung says, barely holding back his own laughter. “Felix almost puked. Minho ran out of the room. Chan legit said, ‘Fuck this,’ and walked away. I thought I was gonna die.”

You’re laughing so hard your shoulders shake, your messy ponytail bouncing as you clutch your stomach. The camera catches the moment perfectly, your head tilted back, eyes scrunched in genuine delight, while Jisung leans forward, laughing along with you.

“Jesus Christ,” you manage to say through your giggles, wiping at your eyes. “That’s disgusting.”

“Changbin’s ass is a fucking weapon of mass destruction,” Jisung agrees, grinning.

For the third photo, you decide to up the chaos. Jisung sticks out his tongue and crosses his eyes, while you puff out your cheeks and pull at your ponytail, making your hair look even messier. The flash goes off just as you both start laughing at each other’s ridiculous faces.

“Holy shit, we’re gonna look insane,” you say, catching your breath.

“That’s the point,” Jisung replies, his grin wide and unbothered. “It’s art.”

The fourth photo catches you mid-laugh again, this time at Jisung’s story about Hyunjin ripping his pants at a party.

“It wasn’t just a tear,” Jisung says, his voice animated as he gestures wildly. “Dude bent over to pick up his phone, and the entire ass seam exploded. Like, gone. Everyone saw his SpongeBob boxers.”

You’re practically wheezing, your hand covering your mouth as you try to suppress your laughter. The flash goes off again, but this time Jisung doesn’t even look at the camera. He’s watching you, a small smile playing on his lips as he takes in the way your laughter lights up your face.

For the fifth and final shot, the countdown begins again, and the laughter subsides into a quiet, lingering warmth. Jisung looks at you, his eyes softer now, the playful edge replaced by something deeper.

Before you can ask what’s on his mind, he leans in. His hand comes up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. His lips meet yours, warm and sure, the kiss sweet but charged with an undeniable spark.

The flash goes off, capturing the moment perfectly. You’re too caught up in the kiss to care, your heart pounding as the world outside the booth fades away.

When he pulls back, his grin returns, a little smug but mostly pleased. “Had to make the last one memorable,” he says, his voice low and slightly breathless.

You blink at him, your cheeks warm as you nod. “You… definitely did.”

Jisung chuckles, reaching for the screen to pay for two copies of the photo strip. When they print, he hands you one with a flourish. “For your scrapbook or whatever,” he says, tucking the other strip into the back of his phone case. “And this one’s mine. Gotta preserve the evidence of how hot we look.”

You laugh softly, your fingers brushing against the glossy photos. “Thanks, Jisung.”

“Anytime, princess,” he replies, pushing the curtain aside and gesturing for you to follow him. As the two of you step back into the sunlight, the photo strip in your hand feels heavier than it should—like it holds more than just images but the start of something real.

The Alpha Phi frat house is already buzzing with noise when you and Jisung arrive. Laughter and loud voices carry through the open windows, and the faint smell of someone’s late-night cooking mingles with the ever-present scent of whatever questionable air freshener they’ve been using.

Jisung pushes the door open, gesturing for you to step in first. “Welcome to the madhouse,” he says, smirking as he steps in behind you.

The living room is packed. Chan is perched on the arm of a couch, his arms crossed and an expectant grin on his face. Minho and Felix are sprawled on the cushions, Felix holding a bowl of popcorn while Minho sips from a soda can. Changbin is on the floor leaning against the coffee table, and Jeongin and Seungmin are in the corner playing cards. Hyunjin is sprawled dramatically on the chaise, his hair messily tied back.

“Finally!” Chan exclaims as soon as he spots you two. “Took you long enough.”

“Fucking hell, we were about to send a search party,” Changbin adds, tossing a crumpled wrapper at Jisung, who easily dodges it.

Jisung doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he casually pulls his phone from his pocket, holding it up so the clear case reveals the strip of photobooth pictures tucked neatly inside. The black border around the photos makes the images pop, each one filled with laughter, ridiculous faces, and, of course, that final kiss.

The room erupts into chaos.

“No fucking way,” Felix exclaims, dropping the popcorn bowl in his lap as he leans forward. “That’s so cute!”

Minho glances at the photos, his lips quirking into a sly grin. “So, that’s how I win you over, huh, Lix?” he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Just take you to a photobooth?”

Felix flushes immediately, his freckles standing out against his red cheeks. “Shut up, Minho!” he sputters, smacking him lightly on the arm.

Jisung smirks, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, assholes. You’re just jealous.”

“I mean, a little,” Jeongin pipes up from the corner, his tone teasing. “You got a whole-ass date at Lotte World, and I’m stuck here losing to Seungmin at cards.”

“Get good, loser,” Seungmin retorts, barely glancing up.

Hyunjin suddenly sits up, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright, Y/N,” he says, pointing a finger at you. “Your turn. How do I win over Rose? Spill.”

You blink, surprised at being put on the spot. “Food,” you say after a moment, your lips curving into a small smile. “She’s from New Zealand, so anything that reminds her of home would mean a lot. She also mentioned wanting a portrait… either of her or something you paint for her.”

Hyunjin’s eyes light up, and he dramatically presses a hand to his chest. “Y/N, I love you,” he declares, jumping to his feet. “You’re a genius. A fucking genius!” Without another word, he bolts up the stairs, presumably to start planning his grand gesture.

Changbin chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s kinda crazy when you think about it,” he says, leaning back against the table. “This whole fucking romance train started with that disco pang pang ride.”

“Right?” Chan agrees, laughing. “That stupid ride caused absolute chaos. And now look, Jisung’s over here with photobooth kisses.”

“Fucking poetic,” Jeongin mutters, smirking.

Jisung waves them off with a dramatic eye roll. “Alright, losers, I’m done with this intervention. We’re going upstairs.”

“Wait,” Minho says, stopping him mid-step. He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to you, a face mask in a sleek black packet. “You’re gonna need this.”

You blink at him, tilting your head. “Why?”

“Because,” Minho replies with a deadpan expression, “Jisung’s room is fucking disgusting. It’s a biohazard. This is for your safety.”

The room erupts into laughter, everyone nodding in agreement.

“Fuck off, my room isn’t that bad!” Jisung protests, but his grin gives him away.

“Bro, you live in a dumpster,” Felix says, still chuckling. “Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

You smile, accepting the face mask with a soft, “Thank you, Minho.”

Jisung groans dramatically, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the stairs. “Don’t listen to them, princess. My room is fine. Let’s go.”

You and Jisung head upstairs, your footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. Jisung’s hand is wrapped around yours, pulling you along as the sounds of the frat house’s chaos slowly fade behind you. The door to his room is ajar when you reach it, and he swings it open with a casual flick of his wrist, revealing the space inside.

“Alright, welcome to my humble abode,” Jisung says, stepping aside to let you in. “Don’t mind the mess.”

You raise an eyebrow as you step into his room. It’s not exactly what you were expecting. There’s a comfortable bed in the corner, a few scattered posters on the walls, but it’s the clutter that catches your attention. Piles of clothes in various states of cleanliness are stacked in one corner, and there’s a mess of gadgets, unopened boxes, and random knick-knacks littering his desk.

“It’s not dirty,” Jisung insists, closing the door behind you. “It’s just... I buy a lot of shit I never use.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly, shaking your head. “Yeah, I can see that.” You glance at him, catching a glimpse of a Star Wars figurine on the shelf, a couple of old video game consoles tucked under his desk, and what appears to be a half-used, brightly colored art set. “What is all this stuff, Jisung?”

Jisung shrugs nonchalantly, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, I was gonna do something with all of it. But, you know, procrastination is a hell of a drug.” He walks over to the desk and tosses his jacket over the back of the chair before flopping down onto the bed. “But, I’m not here to give you a tour of my shit. What do you think of my mess?”

You glance around again, spotting something on his desk that catches your eye, a criminal law textbook, open to a random page. You walk over to it, picking it up and raising an eyebrow. “Why do you have this?”

Jisung looks over at you, propping himself up on his elbows. “Figured it’d be good to have something to talk about, you know? Make me sound smart and shit.” He shrugs, completely unfazed by the fact that he’s openly admitting to this in front of you.

You look back at him, a quiet laugh escaping you. “You? Sounding smart? Yeah, sure.”

He throws his head back dramatically. “Hey, I’m a journalism major with a criminal psych minor. I can throw around some fancy words.”

“I’ll give you credit for trying,” you tease, before glancing around some more. That’s when you spot the Harry Potter shelf in the corner, filled with a collection of wands, scarves, and figurines.

“Wait,” you say, pointing at the shelf. “Are those... Harry Potter things?”

Jisung smirks, clearly proud of his collection. “Hufflepuff represent!” he announces with a dramatic flair, throwing his hands up like he’s about to lead a chant.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Hufflepuff? Really?”

“Hell yeah,” he says, looking at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re loyal, hardworking, and way cooler than all those other houses.”

You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-surprised. “I took the quiz, and I was a Slytherin.”

Jisung’s face twists in mock horror. “You?! A Slytherin?!” he exclaims, raising an eyebrow in exaggerated shock. “There’s no way you’re a Slytherin. I thought you were, like, all sweet and shit.”

You shrug with a smile, enjoying the banter. “Turns out, I’m secretly cunning and ambitious.”

Jisung chuckles, shaking his head. “Fuck, that’s funny. But I’ll take it. Slytherins are smart as hell.”

As you glance around his room, something else catches your eye, a small book of poetry, sitting casually on his nightstand. You pick it up, flicking through the pages. “Wait, what’s this?” you ask, your voice playful as you glance at Jisung.

He sits up on the bed, his smirk softening into something more sheepish. “I saw on your Instagram that you and the girls did a wine and poetry night, so... I bought the book,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Thought it might be a good way to connect.”

You stare at him for a beat, processing the unexpected gesture. And then you can’t help it. You burst out laughing. “You are a secret loser!” You hold up the book like it’s evidence. “Han Jisung, a tattooed hunk with a chest bigger than most women, is secretly a loser!”

Jisung groans, flopping back onto the bed with his hands covering his face. “I swear to god, I’m never doing anything nice for you again.”

You laugh harder, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I crush your tough guy image?” you tease, nudging him with your elbow. “You’ve got tattoos, a scorpion on your neck, and now you’re reading poetry. You’re like a walking contradiction.”

“Fuck off,” Jisung grumbles, but his voice is amused.

You smile softly, genuinely touched by the effort, even if it’s a little silly. “I like that you’re a secret loser.”

“God, you really know how to kill a guy’s ego, don’t you?” Jisung says, though the affection in his voice is clear.

“Only because you deserve it,” you tease, picking up the poetry book and flipping through it casually. You can’t help but feel a little lighter in his presence, despite the teasing. “I like the effort. Really.”

Jisung turns his head toward you, giving you a genuine, softer smile. “You know, you’re not so bad yourself, princess.”

You look up at him, your heart unexpectedly fluttering as you feel the weight of his words. “I’m not the only one with layers, huh?”

Jisung chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Nah. Guess not.”

The Alpha Phi living room is a cacophony of banter and energy, as it always is when all eight boys are crammed into one space. Jisung is pacing back and forth in front of his friends, his hands flailing occasionally as he speaks, clearly deep in thought or at least pretending to be.

“Okay,” he starts, stopping abruptly to face the group before continuing his restless pacing. “So, we kissed. She spent time with me in my room. Called me a loser, which, by the way, rude as fuck, but also weirdly endearing, and now I need to make her my girlfriend.”

The room is silent for a beat before Jeongin snorts. “Dude, you’re acting like this is some undercover operation.”

“It is an operation, you little shit,” Jisung fires back, jabbing a finger in Jeongin’s direction. “Step one: romance. Step two: dates. Step three: make it official. Step four: sex. In that order. Because-” he pauses for dramatic effect, spinning to face Chan, “-I am not a heathen like Chan, who fucks before a date.”

“Hey!” Chan says, throwing a crumpled napkin at him. “Don’t drag me into this shit!”

“I’m just saying,” Jisung replies, grinning, “I’m a classy man. Romancing, dates, making it official. Then sex.”

Minho, who’s lounging on the couch beside Felix, raises an eyebrow. “Is it so she’s not scared off by the fact that the tip of your dick is pierced?”

Jisung pauses mid-pace, his mouth opening and closing for a second before he sighs dramatically. “Yes. I need her to accept me as her boyfriend first so we’re locked in before Prince Albert comes into play.”

“Jesus Christ,” Changbin mutters, shaking his head. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“It’s all about transparency, Binnie,” Jisung says with a flourish. “Now, ideas, people. I need ideas. No ideas are bad ideas.”

Hyunjin leans forward, his chin resting on his hands. “Okay, hear me out. You take her to one of those rooftop restaurants. Dim lighting, candles, a view of the city. Classic romance.”

“Solid,” Jisung nods. “Not bad.”

Jeongin raises a hand. “Cook for her. Girls love a guy who can cook.”

“You can’t even boil an egg,” Seungmin mutters.

“Hey, I didn’t say I’d do it. I said he should.”

“That’s actually not terrible,” Jisung admits, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But I’d probably burn her dinner.”

“Do a grand gesture,” Changbin offers, grinning. “Show up at her window with a boombox, ‘80s movie style.”

“Changbin,” Minho says, deadpan. “No one does that anymore.”

“That’s why it’s genius,” Changbin counters.

Jisung stares at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Fucking awful.”

“Write her a love letter,” Felix suggests quietly, still hiding behind his iced tea.

Jisung arches an eyebrow. “What am I, Shakespeare?”

“Buy her a puppy,” Jeongin adds, grinning. “No one says no to puppies.”

“Jeongin, shut the fuck up,” Jisung snaps, though he can’t suppress a small laugh. “I’m not buying a puppy.”

Chan finally clears his throat, raising a hand to silence the chaos. “Alright, alright. Let me speak, children.”

Jisung crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. “Alright, Chan. You’re the romance man, despite your questionable methods with Jennie. Talk to me, papi.”

The room erupts in a chorus of groans and laughter as Minho jumps in, his smirk widening. “Yeah, Daddy Chan, talk to us. I need to romance Felix, Hyunjin needs to romance Rose. get talking.”

Felix flushes red, his head disappearing behind his drink entirely. “Minho, stop,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible.

Chan sighs dramatically, sitting up straighter. “Fine, you want advice from Daddy Chan? Here it is. First, figure out what she actually likes. Not just the surface stuff. Get to know her for real. What makes her happy? What’s her favourite thing to do when she’s stressed?”

“That’s… actually not bad,” Jisung admits, nodding slowly.

“Second,” Chan continues, “make her feel special without overdoing it. Don’t come off as fake. Do something that’s you, but with a twist for her.”

“And third,” Chan finishes, leaning back with a smirk, “be confident, but not cocky. Show her you’re serious without being overbearing.”

The room falls silent for a moment as everyone processes the surprisingly solid advice.

“Alright,” Jisung says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do this. Chan, I’ll give you this one, you know your shit.”

“Damn right, I do,” Chan replies, grinning.

Minho raises a hand lazily. “Same advice applies for romancing Felix?”

Felix groans. “Minho, please.”

“Of course it does,” Chan says, smirking at Felix. “Just don’t be a dumbass about it.”

The room devolves into laughter again, but beneath the chaos, Jisung feels a quiet sense of determination. Whatever it takes, he’s going to make this work. After all, he’s not a heathen, he’s a man with a plan.

The sun is low in the sky, casting an amber glow over the bustling streets of Wolmi Myland as Jisung and you stroll side by side, his arm comfortably draped over your shoulder. You’ve grown used to the warmth of his touch, the gentle weight of it sending a calm buzz through your chest, making your smile even softer. The day has been full of laughter, rides, and moments you never want to forget.

Behind you, your friends make up a merry parade. Chan and Jennie are deep in conversation, their laughter filling the air, while Hyunjin and Rose trail behind, teasing each other about something only they understand. Minho and Felix, predictably, are doing their thing. Minho flirting with Felix in that easy, almost predatory way of his, like it’s just another Tuesday.

Felix, usually a shy mess in the face of Minho’s advances, has recently been taking notes from you and the girls on how to handle Minho’s brand of charm. You, Jennie, Jisoo, Lisa, and Rose had all gathered around Felix one afternoon and, in a moment of solidarity, had given him the pep talk of a lifetime. Look up through your eyelashes, bite your lip, speak soft but say something dirty, and so on.

You can hear Felix’s soft voice, but the words catch your attention because they sound like they come straight from a romance novel.

“So... you’ve been working out, huh?” Felix says, voice smooth as silk, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looks at Minho through his lashes, lips parted ever so slightly. “I bet those arms would look even better holding me down.”

The reaction from Minho is instant, and you almost choke on your breath as you hear the sharp intake of air from him. His eyes widen as if Felix had just dropped a bomb on him, and the whole group stops in their tracks. Even Jisung’s arm around your shoulder tightens slightly, but his lips curve up in a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding.

“Marry me, Felix,” Minho says, his voice high-pitched with disbelief but dripping with genuine admiration. “Right now, I’m in love with you. That was fucking hot. I-” He shakes his head as if trying to process what just happened. “Where has this version of Felix been hiding?”

Felix, suddenly more confident than you’ve ever seen him, shrugs and smirks. “You know, just had to channel my inner bad boy. You know how it is, Minho.” He looks around at all of you, a playful glint in his eye. “I can show you more... if you’re really interested.”

Jisung chuckles beside you, squeezing your shoulder lightly. “Damn, Felix, I’m proud of you. Finally found your balls.”

Chan, walking next to Jennie, throws his head back and laughs. “This shit is golden. I’ve been trying to get Felix to do this for years and now he’s out here dropping sexual innuendo like a fucking pro.” He slaps Minho on the back. “What’d you say, Minho? You in love with Felix now?”

Minho, still staring at Felix like he’s seeing him for the first time, just shakes his head in disbelief. “I might actually be. I never thought I’d say this, but damn, Felix, where’s the ring?”

Felix raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the attention. “Maybe you’ll have to earn it, Minho.” He winks and, for a moment, the atmosphere is a perfect blend of playful and charged.

You can’t help but laugh, the whole scene unfolding around you like a whirlwind of flirtation and teasing. Jisung’s arm around your shoulders tightens again, his smile mischievous as he lowers his head toward your ear. “I’m gonna be honest with you,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “if you ever get me to say something that filthy, I think I’ll have to take you home and lock the door for the night.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “You think you can out-flirt Felix?” you tease gently.

Jisung grins, leaning in closer to brush his lips against your temple. “I know I can. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Sure, sure,” you say, your voice light but with a smile playing on your lips. You feel his breath against your skin, sending a thrill through you, but you play it cool, knowing exactly what he’s doing. You lean into him, the closeness making everything feel more intimate.

Felix, still standing a few steps ahead, turns around with a look of pride on his face. “You know, I might have to teach Minho a lesson now,” he adds, “maybe show him how to actually flirt properly.”

Minho’s head snaps toward Felix, a horrified expression crossing his face. “No fucking way. You’re not doing that to me. I’m the one who does the lessons, alright?”

Jisoo and Lisa, who have been walking behind you, laugh loudly, catching the attention of the rest of the group. “Felix, babe, you’re getting too good at this,” Lisa says, grinning. “We might need to tone you down before you leave us all behind in the dating game.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if we can keep up with that level of flirtation,” Jisoo adds, shaking her head with exaggerated disbelief. “Next thing we know, you’re gonna be the one teaching us.”

Felix just grins, clearly loving the attention. “If you want, I could. We’re all about equal opportunity here, right?”

Hyunjin, who’s been walking next to Rose, chimes in, laughing. “You know what, Felix, we might have to start giving you a class for all of us. Teach us your ways.”

The laughter continues, but Jisung’s arm around you stays firm, his presence as comforting as always. His hand brushes your arm lightly as he speaks again, his voice low and playful, “You know, I’ve got some skills of my own, babe. But I’ll let you in on a little secret, nothing beats genuine affection.”

You glance up at him, your heart fluttering. “And I’m guessing you plan on showing me that tonight?”

His grin widens. “You know it, princess.”

The night is in full swing as the group gathers in front of the Disco Pang Pang ride. The neon lights blink around them, casting colourful hues across the faces of your friends. You’re laughing, your hand still resting comfortably in Jisung’s as you walk, but that’s when it happens.

Suddenly, Jisung stops in front of the entrance to the ride. You blink in confusion. Then, he drops to one knee.

The entire group freezes. You can hear Chan and Jennie snickering quietly in the background, Hyunjin and Rose watching with wide eyes. Minho and Felix glance at each other, brows raised, clearly confused but entertained. Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, Lisa, and Jisoo all stop and turn toward Jisung, their attention now fully on him.

You, on the other hand, snort. You can’t help it. The sudden seriousness of the moment mixed with Jisung’s complete lack of seriousness has you giggling uncontrollably. You press your hand to your mouth, trying to hide it, but the sound of your laughter fills the air.

“Oh my god,” you manage to gasp between giggles, “are you- Are you serious right now?”

Jisung’s face remains deadpan as he pulls out a ring from his pocket. But it’s not a diamond, or even a normal ring. It’s a candy ring. He holds it up, staring at you with a glint in his eye.

“Y/N L/N,” he says dramatically, “Will you accept me as I am? A sexy secret loser with enough ink on my skin to be a soccer mother’s wet dream in cliterary format? Will you be my girlfriend and accept this ring as a symbol of our romance?”

At that, you burst out laughing again, the candy ring in his hand almost forgotten as you clutch your stomach. You try to compose yourself, but it’s impossible. Jisung’s smirk only grows as he watches you dissolve into giggles.

“Yes!” you finally say between fits of laughter, “Yes, you idiot, I’ll be your girlfriend!” You extend your hand, letting him slip the candy ring onto your finger.

The whole group erupts into applause, and even Minho can’t help but laugh, though he's still trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Jisung grins widely, clearly pleased with himself, and leans in to whisper in your ear, his voice dropping to a teasing tone.

“Oh, by the way,” he says, voice low and almost too smug, “my dick’s pierced. You accepted me as your boyfriend, no take backs.”

You blink, your smile faltering for just a moment. “Your what is what?” You look around, clearly trying to process what he just said.

Minho, who has been lounging with Felix nearby, shrugs and speaks up. “It’s true,” he says casually, snuggling into Felix’s side, clearly comfortable with this new conversation. “Jisung showed us all when he got it done. The whole frat saw it. Right, guys?”

The guys all nod enthusiastically, their voices rising in unison.

“Yeah, it’s true,” Changbin adds with a smirk.

“Couldn’t stop talking about it for days,” Seungmin chimes in with a chuckle.

Jisung just grins at you, clearly pleased with the reactions. “Think of it as extra ribbing,” he says with a wink, leaning in closer to you.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle your smile, but it's no use. Your laughter bubbles up again. You can’t believe the absurdity of it all, but at the same time, it feels right. This- he- feels right.

Jennie, who's been watching the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow, finally speaks up, her voice stern but amused. “No! No talking filth in public, you two!” she calls out, pointing at Jisung and you as she laughs. “We’re in public, for fuck’s sake.”

Jisung raises his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Fine, fine,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “I’m a gentleman. I’ll keep it clean for now.”

You smile up at him, your heart racing with affection for this ridiculous, wonderful guy. “You know, I really don’t think I can take you anywhere without you making a scene.”

Jisung gives you an exaggerated look of offence. “What are you talking about? I’m a fucking angel, princess.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “A real angel with a pierced dick and a candy ring.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, laughing along with you. “But hey, we’re at Disco Pang Pang. Our place. You wanna go on the ride? Should we go and relive the moment where we first met?”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the ride, the memory of how you met, of how everything changed in that one moment. The laughter, the absurdity, and the way he looked at you. It’s been perfect ever since.

“Lead the way,” you reply, your smile soft and warm as you take his hand.

Jisung’s eyes light up, and he gives you a cheeky wink. “You got it, princess.”

He pulls you along toward the entrance of the ride, and the whole group follows. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been more content in your life than you are right now, surrounded by your friends, by Jisung, and by a relationship that’s in its early stages but is already everything you ever wanted.

As you board the Disco Pang Pang, Jisung pulls you close, his arm wrapping around your waist. The ride begins to spin, and you can’t help but feel like everything has fallen into place. There’s laughter, excitement, and the feeling that this moment, this night, is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And as the lights of the ride flash, the music thumping in your ears, you know that no matter where you go, as long as you’re with him, it’s going to be an adventure.

The ride begins to buck, and Jisung pulls you closer, a wide grin on his face as he looks at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. “You’re mine now, princess.”

You lean into him, grinning back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

Proofread by the wonderful @eastjonowhere

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ivypos-writes · 10 months ago

Text

with my touch (i have cursed you)

— aemond targaryen

summary: His first touch plants a seed of desire, and it is only a matter of time before it blooms.

Or, all the times Aemond touches her, and the one when he lets himself be touched.

warnings: 18+, au—no dance of dragons, targcest, aemond being a tease and a little shit, mutual pining, unhealthy amounts of tension, first times, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv, multiple orgasms, aemond being pathetic (he whimpers), smut with plot (and the plot is just prolonged foreplay)

word count: 8.7k

notes: so. i wrote this thing. english is not my first language. all reblogs and comments are very appreciated! aemond girlies, we are so back.

(also available on ao3.)

The street is bustling with life.

She is little more than a dull spot against a variety of colours, and something about the thought of blending with the surroundings is more comforting than anything she has ever known. She tightens her hold on the large hood of the cloak and pushes past a gathering of haggling customers, giggling as they shout in indignation.

It is still early, though the skies above head are spotted with warm oranges and pinks. The air is different here. Sultry. She traverses the cobblestone paths and passes through alleys filled with shops and boisterous merchants, and her eyes grow brighter with each step.

She has known life in its subdued form—in gold and jewels, and soft-spoken words, and lullabies sung at nighttime. She has been sheltered, and dressed in gowns, and taught to wield practiced smiles and pretty countenance. It is the first time that she experiences havoc. There is dirt and dust, and curses falling left and right, and women dressed scarcely in anything, scraps of fabric falling down their shoulders without care for decency.

In these streets, life is fervent. Chaotic, unashamedly passionate, and lewd in ways that render her breathing shallow.

At once, she is filled with greed.

Led by impulse alone, she blurs into the masses of depravity. She forgets about her name and titles. Here, she is just a woman—not a silver-haired maiden, or a dragonrider, or her mother’s daughter. It is easy to forget duty when it is nowhere to be seen; when it is replaced with pure, unadulterated perversity.

Something flutters in her heart, and it must be freedom.

She passes by multiple stands, and because here she is not a princess, she catches the string of a flower pendant and snitches it from its spot. The trader doesn’t notice, too engrossed in his attempts to sell his goods for a too-high price. She is quick to hide it deep inside her pocket, and the smile that lightens her face is radiant.

Her feet ache, but she stubbornly speeds towards the nearest corner. It is right there, and she almost reaches its edge—

“Are you up to no good, niece?”

A gasp tears out of her mouth. She turns, wide-eyed and flushed, and finds a splash of silver-white strands shining against worn-out fabric. She scans the porcelain skin and the puckered scar that paints it in pinks; traces the leather of the eyepatch. He looks different in this particular light. Warm hues of the sky bathe him in a gleam that softens the curves of his features; there is an odd gentleness in him that she doesn’t recognise.

“Aemond,” she murmurs.

He seems pleased with himself. She catches a glint in his eye that whispers of carefully restrained mischief; his lips are curved into the beginning of a smile. She’s seen this particular expression only a handful of times, and always in the face of chaos.

It suits him. More often than not, and only ever quietly, she thinks he was carved for it.

“I didn’t take you for a little thief.”

Her cheeks burn. They must be scarlet red, and she inwardly curses both the humidity and the weight of his gaze that only fuels the onslaught of the tint. Aemond’s smirk grows. The blatant exhibition of her shame appears to have entertained him.

“A thief?” she repeats, eyes rounded with what she hopes is a convincing display of innocence. “Have you any proof?”

He breathes out a little laugh. It’s sharp and fleeting, and she drinks up the sound of it, oddly enthralled. She is not familiar with his laughter. Her skin prickles as its remnants linger between them.

Aemond moves closer, and soon the distance between them is so small that their cloaks brush against one another.

She is so caught off-guard that she barely notices the pendant dangling from his finger. Aemond swings it in front of her face, and when she reaches for it with a surprised gasp, he moves his hand away in the blink of an eye.

Her mouth twists in displeasure. His grin grows.

“Give it back,” she demands.

“It wasn’t yours in the first place.”

“I claimed it as mine.”

“Did you?” Aemond’s eye lights up in flames. From this close, she can almost sense the heat. “Is it as simple as that?”

“It is.”

She doesn’t expect him to truly return the pendant into her waiting hand, and her eyebrows furrow in surprise when he does. Aemond says nothing more. His expression is meticulously crafted—it is layers upon layers of riddles that she does not know how to solve. She imagines peeling them off one by one and finding him as he is—bare before her eyes. She wonders what she’d find written over his face when it is unspoiled by composure.

His fingers briefly tickle the skin of her palm before they’re gone. They leave a searing trail in their wake.

“It’s a poor disguise.” Aemond eyes the hood that falls onto her forehead, and the few curls that cascade down her face in silver streaks. “If you want to sneak out into the city, you ought to be more clever.”

She scowls. “And you, of course, know everything about it.”

There is contemplation in his eye. He rids himself of the smiles that she doesn’t recognise, and puts on a calculating face that she’s seen many times before. It makes him look more familiar. Most of the times that their paths cross, she finds him lost deep in thought.

“Come.”

She eyes his outstretched hand with scepticism.

He will likely drag her back to the Red Keep—to the judging stares and stinging reprimands and her mother’s burning disappointment. There is nothing she loathes more than being forced to endure interrogations regarding her behaviour. She will be scolded, as if it is a crime that she, a girl, has decided to experience something more than feigned propriety.

She thinks she would rather stay within the dirt and stench of the city.

Aemond hums in response to her silence, and the sound is so low that she needs to chase it through the clamour of the street. There is something akin to understanding that appears on his face.

His hand remains still.

“Do you wish to see the city or not?”

She blinks, perplexed, and it takes a mere moment for her fingers to lace with his. His are warmer than hers; heat engulfs her, and she unconsciously presses against him with doubled force.

When her eyes return to his face, Aemond is already watching her. He leans towards her. His breath tickles her cheek.

“Stay close,” Aemond orders. He stands in such proximity that they breathe the same air. “And don’t be a brat.”

She lets him tighten his hold on her hand, and soon they are walking the path side by side.

Aemond shows her the city in all its glory, and not once does his grip waver.

She spends the night tracing the remnants of his fingertips on her skin.

He smells of smoke.

It is a cloudless day, and she has decided to forsake the red walls of the castle in favour of the sun-soaked yard. There is only the scent of grass and parchment. It is why she senses him before he speaks. He permeates the air like he owns it.

“Shouldn’t you be with your septa?”

The skin of her palm tingles with the memory of his touch; she clutches at the silken fabric of her dress, if only to smother the sudden urge to hold something between her fingers. There is a large tome in her lap, and she flicks the pages absentmindedly, determined not to look at him.

She hasn’t seen him since their escapade through the streets of King’s Landing. It is not that she avoids him—only she does, because it feels as if the line between them that she’s known all her life became blurred. She searches for its remains and finds them long shattered. There is void space in its stead that she knows not what to make of

��Shouldn’t you mind your own business, uncle?”

She hears him snort quietly. There is a rustling sound that follows, and soon Aemond’s arm is brushing against hers. It is a feather-like touch, but she freezes all the same.

He smells of smoke. Fire. Scorching flames. Her skin burns beneath the sleeve of her dress in all places he has touched.

“The Seven-Pointed Star,” Aemond reads, blissfully unaware of her turmoil. “I didn’t take you for a woman of faith.”

Slowly, a little hesitantly, she turns her face towards him. His own is perfectly neutral, but she finds a glimpse of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. She squints at him, feigning offence.

“Did you take me for a woman of sin, then?”

He doesn’t answer. She supposes it is an answer in its own right. Before she can think it through, her arm shoots forward; she elbows him in the side and smiles at the startled gasp that leaves his mouth.

It is a nice sound. Her cheeks warm.

When her eyes return to the book, she finds herself eager to continue the conversation, though whatever it is that urges her to do so remains unclear.

“Septa Marlow is under the impression that I lack virtue,” she says, voice dripping with venom. She glances at him, suddenly needing to add a rushed, “It’s a vile accusation.”

Septa Marlow is a cunt. Her mother will not say it aloud, but she knows that they both hate the woman with equal passion. The septa is stuck in her old ways, and no longer remembers youth well enough to comprehend it. Her teachings persist only for the sake of upholding etiquette, and only for as long as it’s necessary.

Not much longer. She is almost a woman grown.

Aemond chuckles. “Certainly.”

She shoots him a withering look. The corners of his lips tremble; he seems to be holding back another fit of laughter, and she narrows her eyes at the sight.

“Do you disagree?”

He faces her fully, and she can now see the scar marring his skin. It looks softer in sunlight; its edges blend with his flesh. She traces its shape and length; wanders through every inch. If she tried to touch it—to caress it with gentle fingers—would he move away? Would he give her his scorn, and his anger, and would the fire that they share turn deadly? Aemond keeps the scar out of sight for a reason. He must hate her for looking at it.

But Aemond doesn’t shy away from her gaze. He doesn’t seem to mind the way she is watching him; his body tilts towards hers, and now both their elbows and their knees touch.

He’s beautiful. It is a thought that never once crossed her mind, and yet it’s true. Sunny spells hit his face in all the right places, and the purples of his eye glow, and the sight of him steals her breath away.

When he speaks, it is closer to a whisper, as though meant for her ears alone.

“I wouldn’t dare question your virtue, sweet niece.”

Fire returns, stronger than she remembered it to be. It’s all she knows.

“Good.”

Silence befalls them again, and her eyes revert back to the tome in her hands.

They widen when nimble fingers grab the book. It is gone from her grasp before she can blink. She opens her mouth to scold him; to demand that he give it back, even though she doesn’t truly want it.

Words die on her tongue when the heavy weight of the old tome is replaced by softness in the hues of silver-whites.

Aemond’s head is in her lap.

Her heartbeat jumps.

She stares at him, and then around the yard, and then once again at him. They are sitting in a fairly private area of the yard, but she knows that they’re never truly spared from eyes that are hungry for controversy. Someone will see. Someone will see, and then talk, and soon they will become yet another spectacle for vicious tongues. Protests rise to her lips—numerous, and each of them quite rational. Surely, he will see reason.

But then he turns, and his eye reflects the sun, and she forgets what she wanted to say, or why she wanted to say it, or why it matters if they were discovered at all.

He looks so peaceful. She’s never seen an expression quite this soft on his face. There is a trace of pink on his cheek, and his lips are curved, and he eyes her with emotion she cannot fathom.

She couldn’t possibly disturb him when his face is smoothed with serenity. Just a little longer, she thinks. She wants to see him like this for a few more stolen moments.

“Go on, then,” Aemond says without a care. “Read to me.”

Her mouth is dry. She clears her throat and hopes that her face doesn’t betray her.

“My lap isn’t your spot to rest on.”

Except it is. She will not say it—she’ll never say it—but having him this close feels right. Like this, his softness is for her eyes only.

“I have just claimed it as mine.” His eye speaks in a language of pure intensity, and in response she burns. “Is it not as simple as that?”

She bites her tongue and says nothing else, and the stray strands of his hair tickle her arms. Her skin is on fire. She’s sure that her cheeks are, too.

When she reads to him, she prays that her voice does not waver.

The feast thrown on her name day is a boastful one. She weaves her way through crowds of faces she doesn’t recognise, and pleasantries fall from her lips as befitting the daughter of a royal household.

A woman grown. It seems half the realm had been eagerly waiting for her to come of age. She is mostly surrounded by men, and they all appear to be looking for excuses to touch her.

She is in search for any of her brothers, hoping for a moment of respite from the dancing. It isn’t that she dislikes it, but she has long since grown tired of foreign hands palming her body as though they owned it. She would rather dance with Jace, or even Luke whose clumsiness precedes him—or all by herself, uncaring for the crowds that wish to sink their claws into her.

Respite evades her. Just when she spots familiar heads made of brown curls, another stranger forces his way into her personal space. The man is twice her age, and she immediately finds herself repulsed by the leering expression that he cares not to veil for something more respectful.

His palms are clammy. They will surely leave stains on her skin.

The man leads her towards the centre of the hall, and his spine is straightened in a pathetic display of pride. His hands find her hips before she can protest; his grip is harsh, verging on bruising.

The dance couldn’t last longer. Her head spins from the force with which the man whirls her around, and she must steady herself by gripping his shoulders, even if the prospect disgusts her. She prays that Daemon sees them; that he comes with his sword in hand, ready to spill blood.

But it isn’t Daemon that grabs the man by the arm and sends him backwards. It isn’t Daemon that takes her hand into his own, shielding her from the eyes of the stranger.

She is at peace. Safe. Fire licks at her skin and sinks deep into her bones.

Aemond remains silent. He leads her away from the man, not sparing him a glance. As always, his hand is warm.

“Uncle.” She cannot help but grin. “It would have been more polite to wait your turn.”

He hums, quick to find the right steps. He is a good dancer. His body was made for it.

“Would you rather have him paw at you like an animal?”

She twirls, and the colours of her dress blur into a rainbow.

Aemond is a pitch-black spot against the canvas of vibrant hues. She is drawn to him; drawn to his darkness, and the violet of his eye that disrupts it. Her palm finds his, and she bites back a smile when he boldly presses his skin to hers.

It is not a dance meant for touching.

“What if I liked it?”

Once more, she spins.

They stand back to back, and her spine tingles from the proximity. He is close; too close. His scent is all she can feel.

He has corrupted her with his disregard for propriety. She knows it, because not once does she consider what their family would say if they saw them.

“Did you like it?”

Heat spreads from her back towards her chest. There are many things she has come to like, and none of them are quite related to some unnamed lords.

She could say it. Whisper every perversity her mind has conjured.

But more often than not, their short exchanges seem to be a game that none of them truly understands. She must keep playing. It is what keeps him returning for more.

She turns around to face him and shrugs. “I’m not made of glass. There is no need to handle me gently.”

There is a beat, and silence, and hands itching to touch. Suddenly, without any warning, she is pulled into Aemond’s embrace; a gasp escapes her throat when she feels his hand tighten around her waist.

His fingers dig into the flesh of her hip. He holds her firmly against his chest, and she imagines their bodies blending together into one.

There is nothing appropriate about this kind of proximity. She stands before him as a woman, and he holds her like a man would, and surely no one sees through the flames that have flared around them. This—whatever it is—belongs to them alone.

But her skin tingles.

“Uncle,” she pants, face scarlet red with something unspoken. It is not shame, but something of a darker nature. She is not yet ready to name it. “People are looking at us.”

“Let them look,” he says, and each word has his lips brushing against her ear.

They are so close that she feels his heartbeat. It is as quick as hers.

Not alone. They’re not alone.

“Aemond.”

“Do you want me to let go?”

She doesn’t. He must know that she doesn’t. There is something perverse about his hands on her body—right there, in a hall full of strangers and curious gazes. In the centre of everything. She would gladly let him hold her like this forever—until everyone in the hall understands that she is his, and it is his arms that she belongs in.

“I do,” she says instead.

In a rush of boldness, with utter disregard for her own words, she presses her chest closer to his.

She hardly knows where her body ends and his begins, and if she wanted to—oh, how she wants to—she could step onto her toes and reach towards his lips—

“You're not very convincing,” Aemond whispers into her hair, and then his hands are gone.

He leaves her amidst crowds, surrounded by dozens of onlookers, and yet she sees nothing but the lines of his shrinking silhouette.

It is hours later that she lays amidst silken bedcovers, a sheen of sweat clinging to her bared body, and furiously rubs the spot right between her legs. Her teeth are clenched, and her eyes are burning with vexation, and her hand is not enough. It’s not enough.

She is half-sprawled atop the wooden table.

Her braids have long since come undone, and her hair now cascades down her back like a shield. She plays with one of the strands, curling it around her finger. Her other hand flips the pages of whatever book she is pretending to read.

The library is quiet. It is located deep enough into Maegor’s Holdfast that she knows none of her siblings will find her. It offers the kind of solitude no other place in the Red Keep ensures. Dozens of shelves thrice her height have been installed within the walls, all filled with the oldest and rarest of volumes in the realm.

She cares not for the scent of parchment. It is not books that she came for.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

A small smile creeps onto her lips.

She knew he would come. His presence no longer takes her by surprise. Everywhere she goes, Aemond dutifully follows; no longer does she need to search for him in dark corners.

He is her shadow.

Every day, she breathlessly waits for night to come.

“Aemond.”

“Niece.” His footsteps echo through the walls. “It nears the hour of the owl.”

She rubs the tiredness from her eyes and swallows the yawn that has crawled up her throat. The book is now forgotten; she pushes it away, no longer interested in keeping up the pretence of studying its contents. When she turns, she does it slowly, if only to conceal her traitorous eagerness.

It is too dark. All she sees is a mark of silver painted on pitch-black canvas. His face is shielded from her view, and she bites back the bitter disappointment. She has gone the entire day without a single glimpse of him.

“Why do you care?”

Her eyes trace the outline of his silhouette. He strides towards the chair in front of her, and though she wishes he would sit beside her instead, she appreciates the closeness all the same.

The table is too large. She should have chosen a different one.

The air grows heavier, like it always does when she is with him.

“A princess shouldn’t be spending her time alone in the darkness.”

She wishes he could see her coy smile; wonders if he would offer her one of the private smirks she now knows by heart, or if he’d playfully scold her, or throw a comment that would induce a blush in response.

“It is a good thing, then, that you’ve found me.”

“Yes,” Aemond murmurs, and his voice is so guttural that she nearly melts at the sound. “It is.”

Then it is them, and silence, and darkness. It seems to have become a usual setting for their meetings, as though they required the shroud of night’s secrecy to conceal something illicit.

It isn’t wrong. Whatever it is—whatever looms above their heads—it is not wrong.

Absentmindedly, she reaches for the book; as always, he is quicker.

Their hands meet. There is nothing innocent about the touch, and she no longer desires to pretend that she is not burning. Aemond’s fingers trace the skin of her palm; tickle it, and she bites her lip at the sensation. It lasts only for a short moment—too short, never enough—and then his touch is gone, and so is the book.

She wishes he would forgo this restraint. She has long since grown tired of it.

“I was reading this,” she lies.

“Were you?”

She wants to tear the tome away from his grasp, if only for their hands to touch once more.

“No.”

“No,” Aemond repeats lowly.

If there was any light, she imagines that she’d find his eye intense and hungry; or maybe playful, betraying his endless desire to leave her breathless. He would look at her without a trace of shame, just like he always does. He would set her alight with one glance alone.

There is a thudding sound that cuts through silence. It breaks her out of reverie, and she flinches, squinting into the darkness.

Silver wisps cut through the air. Then they’re gone.

She straightens her spine, brows furrowed in confusion. It looks like he dropped the book and bent to pick it up, only she cannot see his hair. She opens her mouth, not quite understanding this particular game of his, until she feels it.

Something slithers up the skirts of her dress. Fingers wrap around her ankle, and then the other one, and suddenly her legs are forcefully parted. She gasps, and the sound echoes against the empty walls.

“Be quiet, niece,” comes Aemond’s muffled voice. “You’re in a library.”

This is madness. She cannot let it happen—cannot let him touch her like this, right there—

Aemond’s hands slide higher up her legs.

Her muscles tremble. He holds her with enough strength that she cannot escape his grip, forced to yield. Her vision swims, and there are only his hands—his hands—

He uses them skilfully. She has seen him hold a sword, and he now holds her skin with equal passion. His fingertips draw patterns down the length of her shins, and if she could—if she wasn’t possessed by a blinding desire—she would try to discern their meaning.

She feels his breath on her knee.

A small moan falls from her lips, and she clasps her hand over her mouth to cover it. It’s too late. He’s heard it.

Aemond’s grip turns vice-like.

He sears circles into her thigh. One of his hands is replaced by something softer, plushier, and she knows that it must be his lips atop her skin. He leaves fiery kisses on both her knees, and her heart gets stuck in her throat, threatening to jump out.

Higher, she thinks, and immediately bites her lip to prevent herself from begging aloud. If he moved his mouth higher—just a bit, only a bit—he would find out how much she needs him. Her desire has long since become choking. It takes a single brush of his skin against hers to get her slick and wet and ready.

Her skin is engulfed by flames. She must be touched, she must be touched—

Aemond’s lips are gone. She holds back a whimper when she feels fingertips brushing against her thigh in a parting gesture—little more than a caress, gone sooner than it came.

She closes her legs when Aemond’s head resurfaces from underneath the table.

Empty. She remains painfully empty.

“You should return to your chambers.” Aemond stands from the ground. He sounds cocky. “Who knows what lurks in the darkness.”

In the privacy of her bedchamber, she finds the mark that he left on her thigh. It is there for her eyes only. The mark haunts her, and she finds no sleep.

“I know you’re there.”

It seems that they only ever exchange words in darkness. Just today, she was seated opposite him during dinner, and he didn’t look at her once. She wonders if it is fear that holds him back in daylight. Her own fingers forever burn with the desire to hold him, and more often than not, she forgets about the reality of their relationship. Perhaps avoiding each other in the presence of others is safer. They were never meant to burn together.

Her steps halt.

“I’m beginning to think you’re looking for trouble.”

She bites back a grin. “What if I am?”

Finally, he emerges from the shadows. She looks at him without a hint of shame; traces the line of his jaw, and his nose, and the purples of his eye. His hair looks soft. She finds herself overtaken by the desire to grasp it with her fingers and tug.

“You’ve found it.”

“Have I?” she says, and her throat is oddly dry. She watches him, and he watches her, and flames arise. “You don’t look much like trouble to me.”

Aemond’s steps are slow. She has learned their pattern by heart. He has a habit of moving at a leisurely pace, and more often than not, she imagines that it’s yet another way of tormenting her. He knows of her impatience and aims to use it to his advantage.

When he stops, he is still outside of her reach. He raises an eyebrow challengingly.

“What about now?”

It is another game, and she shakes her head because she must.

Aemond hums. His eye wanders down her neck, and her skin prickles underneath his gaze. She holds her breath when he takes another step forward.

Still, he is not close enough.

“And now, niece?” Aemond asks. “Do I look like trouble?”

“No,” she breathes.

His scent wafts through the air, and she ravenously inhales it. Aemond’s eye darkens. He moves closer, and she laces her fingers together in order not to reach out for him.

Maybe she should stifle the last of self-control. Maybe she should grab him by the collar of his riding leathers; pull him as close as she needs him to be. Sometimes, it feels as though he is waiting for her to do it. To make the first move.

Before her contemplation turns into action, his fingers catch the skirts of her gown. She takes a gulp of air when he easily tugs her closer.

“No?” Aemond mutters.

He studies her mouth in silent deliberation, and it prompts her to take her bottom lip between teeth. His nostrils flare.

“No,” she repeats firmly.

His smile is pure sin.

“Good.”

Aemond’s lips claim hers before she can say anything else. Words die on her tongue, and she scarcely remembers what it was that she wanted to say at all. His skin is scorching hot, and his mouth is demanding, and when she gasps into his mouth, he swallows the sound like a man starved.

She throws her hands around his neck before he disappears; before once more he flees from her touch. He is both soft and solid, and her fingertips go alight from the fire flowing through his veins. Aemond pushes into her, and soon her spine connects with the stone wall. His hands wander over her body, tugging impatiently at the endless pieces of material that separate them.

His kisses are flames. None of her dreams have done them justice. Her tongue dances as led by his own, and her teeth graze his bottom lip, and she can no longer think straight when he whimpers into her mouth.

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, and she drinks up the words straight from his tongue.

She pulls him closer, closer, and he hitches her leg over his hip, and she thinks that there is no going back from it. She will forever be cursed with the memory of his taste.

Her lips are full of him even when he’s gone.

She is a woman possessed by madness.

An entire moon has passed, and he hasn’t touched her once. It is as though he forgot that she exists; as though her existence meant nothing at all. Distance stretches between them, sharp and thorned, and it cuts through her skin with vicious force. She burns with want. She burns until there is nothing left but ashes.

When she dreams, it is of his lips. Their taste has long faded, and though she chases the memory every night, she is left with emptiness. Sometimes, it feels as though she’s dying of hunger. She must taste him again. If she won’t, she thinks she’ll wither away.

She once thought that his teasing touch was torture. It’s only now—only when it’s gone—that knows it is the lack of it that elicits true torment.

It’s been three days since she saw him last. Even their last meeting was only in brief; he was gone as soon as her eyes found him amidst crowds of the Red Keep, his steps too quick for her to catch up with.

He has left her to burn alone. Now the flames have grown wild and lethal, and she succumbs to this insanity because she must.

She stays close to the stone wall.

It is nighttime, and most of the residents have retired to their bedchambers. The corridors are empty, guarded only in a few spots; her footsteps echo through the walls, accompanied by complete silence. She appreciates the semblance of privacy that has come with sunset. It is easier to slip by unnoticed when the lights are subdued.

Less than an hour ago, she caught a glimpse of Aemond in the courtyard, sword in his hand. He looked composed as ever, and by the end of the training session his forehead was sheen with sweat. It is what brought about this madness—the sight of him panting for breath.

It’s why she follows him now. He is quick on his feet, and so quiet that she cannot even hear him. All she sees is the broadness of his shoulders and silver-white wisps resting on his back.

She moves faster, determined not to lose him. Her pace turns unrelenting; she watches Aemond reach for the gilded knob. Just before the doors close behind him, she slips inside.

His bedchamber is swallowed by darkness. It is the first thing she sees; her eyes strain, eager to scan the entirety of the room. It looks pristine. His inclination for tidiness doesn’t astound her. She now knows that he keeps all his chaos leashed, preferring to build walls of purity around himself.

She sees through it all. Knows his vices by heart.

Aemond watches her without a trace of surprise. He must have known, then, that she was hunting him down.

It is different this time. The air is thicker. They are alone, and no one can enter his bedchamber without explicit permission. He must realise it. The purple of his eye is darker, and all she finds in it is desire.

Because it is him who has this time become prey, she is the first to make a move.

“I’m here, uncle. I came to you.”

It takes only one step for their chests to come closer, now on the verge of pressing together. Aemond’s face is a perfect image of indifference, but she knows better. There is something dangerous in his eye. She must push further than this to draw it out.

Her eyes go round with feigned innocence, and his own become hooded.

She wonders if his lips still taste the same.

“Won’t you touch me?” she whispers, never letting her gaze falter.

Aemond’s face remains carved in stone. “Perhaps you should ask nicely.”

It is as though he had struck her.

A beat passes, and she knows not what to say. Her mouth is dry. Her hands itch from the constant urge to sink into his flesh.

“Ask?”

He repeats without hesitation, “Ask.”

She bites her tongue hard enough to wince.

It was foolish of her to come. He must think her desperate; corrupt, with her displayed flesh pulsating from the desire to be touched. She is wanton and wicked, and shame burns her cheeks upon the realisation.

A woman of sin.

If he wanted to, he would have touched her already. He would take her into his arms, and breathe in her scent, and bury his fingers deep in her soul. If he wanted to, all hesitation would shatter into pieces, and there would be no need to collect them anymore.

And yet his hands remain still.

She must have been wrong. So, so wrong.

With her eyes stinging, stubbornly downcast, she moves towards the door. If she leaves quickly enough, perhaps he’ll forget she was there at all. Perhaps she’ll awaken the next day and it will all turn out to have been a nightmare. Perhaps she—

Aemond’s hand clutches her forearm. His touch is gentle but firm; she can feel his fingers slither around her skin, closing his grip to prevent her from moving.

She holds her breath. All air is gone.

“Ask,” he says again, “and you shall have it.”

He pushes into her from behind, and his heat engulfs her in wild flames. Aemond’s chest presses against the length of her spine; his hair tickles her skin. She bites her lip when his nose brushes her cheek.

Her heart beats in a wild tune. Does his own match it?

It must. Surely, it must.

“Ask.”

There is something desperate about him; something in his tone that whispers in a language she knows by heart. He is half-begging. She recognises it, because he has done the same in her dreams.

She yields. Utterly. Completely.

“Touch me,” she whispers.

He does.

Aemond grabs her hips and turns her around, and all softness she has come to know him for is gone. His eye is blown wide; it burns, it burns, it burns.

The kiss is bruising. His tongue enters her mouth before she can reciprocate; her spine connects with the surface of the door, and she welcomes the chill it provides with relief. Aemond’s lips are demanding and forceful, and he gasps into her mouth when her hands finally touch his bare skin. She digs her fingers into his neck, and tugs at his hair, and pulls him closer. It is not enough. She needs their mouths to mould into one—to never separate again.

He kisses her without his past control. She gasps for air, and Aemond breathes out into her skin, refusing to let go. His teeth nibble at her bottom lip, and she swallows down a whimper.

His fingers find her neck. The rings that adorn them are cold.

“Here?” he pants, breathless. “Do you want me to touch you here?”

She wraps his hair around her fingers, searching for an anchor. Her head swims, and all air is gone, and if it weren’t for his grip on her hip, she would crumble to the floor. Aemond groans when she pulls at the strands in her hand; she wants to bottle the sound and keep it as hers forever.

“Yes,” she whispers into his lips.

Aemond’s hand wraps around her throat; she sees stars.

Their tongues are at war, and she matches his tempo with determination. He tastes like smoke. Like the sun. Like oxygen. His thumb comes up to stroke her cheek, and the gentleness of this touch is a stark contrast to the way he devours her. She throbs with want. Now that she has touched him, she doesn’t think she could ever stop.

She didn’t know it could feel like this.

Because she’s possessed by greed, she breathes out a quiet, needy, “More.”

Aemond’s lips part with hers, and she immediately wishes to cry out in protest.

She burns under the weight of his gaze. Without once taking his eye off hers, Aemond’s hand leaves her throat, trailing down to her collarbone. His touch is feather-like; fingers tickle her skin. She sucks in air when his hand moves lower, playing with the lace neckline. One of his fingertips sneaks beneath the fabric.

“Should I touch you here?”

His hand boldly grabs her breast. She has never been touched like this. Her mouth dries, and she pushes her chest into Aemond’s grasp, flushing at the low hum he lets out in response. His lips find a spot on her neck that has her panting, and he sucks at the sensitive skin with such ardour that she’s certain he’ll leave a mark.

She moans when his fingers find her pebbled nipple and flick against it, and the wanton sound induces hot shame. He touches her through the fabric of her dress, and it is not enough. She needs more. She needs everything.

Embarrassed, she covers her mouth with her hand.

Aemond’s eye flashes with a wicked glint.

“Here?” he asks, pinching the nipple.

The sound that escapes her throat is smothered by her palm. Desperate, suspended on the verge of madness, she nods. Aemond’s lips curve into a smile, but his fingers refuse to give in.

Their lips touch when he whispers, “Say it.”

And because she’d do anything, anything, her hand obediently falls down.

“Please.”

“How prettily you beg.”

There is a tearing sound; she watches Aemond rip the corset of her dress apart, tugging it down so that her chest is exposed. She has no time to cover herself in scarlet shame, nor to complain about him ruining her favourite gown. His mouth finds her nipple, and she cries out when he sucks at it.

She knows nothing but his tongue that swirls around the nipple in torturous circles; nothing but his teeth when he bites down. Aemond presses her body further into the door, and there is not an inch left that separates them. They are one. Her arms hold him tightly. If she lets go, she will collapse.

His lips are gone. Before she can object, Aemond slides his palms lower—between her breasts, down her waist, over the curve of her hip bone. He sinks to his knees before her, and she watches, wide-eyed and unable to move. Aemond’s hand catches the skirt of her dress and hitches it upwards, bunching the fabric so that her skin is on display. His fingers find her bare thigh, and they are quick to wrap around its width. She whimpers when he pushes her legs apart, forcing himself in between. When he puts her knee over his shoulder, holding her upright with the sheer strength of his arms, she is gone.

“You have cursed me,” he murmurs into her skin, lips nibbling at her inner thigh. “I spend my days thinking of you.”

Her mouth parts; she gasps for air, chest rising and falling with increasing speed. Aemond’s hold on her thigh tightens when she squirms in his arms.

“I spend my nights dreaming of you.”

His sinful lips traverse the expanse of her exposed skin. They move higher, higher, and her muscles twitch with anticipation. He’s too slow, and her hips involuntarily push forward, seeking his touch. Aemond cruelly holds her still. She’s convinced that he’ll leave her skin bruised; convinced that before he reaches the spot where she aches most, she will have died from this torture.

When his tongue first touches her cunt, her vision blurs.

It feels nothing like her fingers. He is skilful and hungry, and the wet muscle laps at her clit in furious motions. Moans spill from her lips, and she has long since forgotten all about propriety. It means little when Aemond’s head is buried between her thighs; when the sinful act feels this holy. All thoughts dissolve into nothing, wiped away with his expert tongue. Aemond’s grip turns vice-like. There is nothing she can do but take whatever he wants to give.

Her clit pulsates from the onslaught. He spits, and then licks up the saliva, rubbing it in between her folds, and she nearly squeals at the sensation. It’s wet and filthy, and when he moans into her cunt, sending chills down her spine, she knows she won’t last much longer.

“Aemond,” she gasps, because his name is the only thing she knows anymore. “Aemond.”

Whines fall from her lips, and she no longer cares to smother them. Her hips rock, and his mouth keeps moving against her cunt, and she can’t, she can’t—

Right there, with his wicked tongue inside her, she erupts.

It’s like a storm. A wildfire. She shatters into thousands of pieces, and Aemond dutifully collects them all, drinking up everything that she offers. Her body rocks, and he soothes her with his touch and keeps her still. Their hands are joined, though she doesn’t recall the moment when they first touched. Aemond doesn’t stop until her gasps turn into cries. Before he moves away, his lips plant one more kiss right on her oversensitive clit.

Her body trembles. Aemond pulls her down, and she allows herself to be led by his hands. His touch is strong and gentle, and she cannot quite believe that he’s real. He puts her thighs around his waist; right there, on the cold ground, she straddles his lap. Aemond’s fingers weave through her hair, and he brushes them away from her face with such gentleness that she thinks she might weep.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, thumbs stroking her wet cheeks. “Such a pretty girl.”

For a moment, they just breathe. Their chests heave with equal fervour, and there is only silence and tender caresses. Her fingers trace the curve of his cheek; she follows its shape, searing it deep into her memory. She wants to remember this. Every detail.

Aemond’s mouth glistens in the spells of moonlight. He is wet with her. Her trembling fingers collect the moisture, and when she brings them to her lips and wraps her tongue around them, he groans.

Involuntarily, her hips rock. She sees him swallow down another sound.

Not once did he demand that she touch him. Aemond is hard beneath her, and yet he stubbornly clings to the restraint she thought to be long erased.

As though he didn’t think himself deserving of her touch.

“Take it off.” Her fingers reach for the eyepatch that separates them, tugging lightly. “I will see all of you.”

He eyes her with emotion she cannot name.

There is something achingly vulnerable about him. She watches as Aemond’s trembling hand reaches for the leather strap, brushing against hers in a feather-like manner. His good eye drops to the ground beside them, and she is quick to put her palms on his face.

She wants him to see himself as she sees him. To rid himself of whatever shame clings to his soul. She wants him to know that all she finds in him is heart-wrenching beauty.

“Aemond,” she whispers. Her fingers find the clasp, and she awaits his permission.

He hesitates. His gaze is dark. She counts the seconds, prepared to let go, but his voice stops her.

“Whatever you want,” he says at last. “It is yours. It is yours.”

Just like that, the eyepatch is gone. The scar stretches from above his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek, and although her hands are shaking, she reaches to stroke the mangled flesh.

Aemond wheezes. She catches the slightest trembling of his lips. His head drops, and for a moment she fears that he’ll move away from her, but he doesn’t. He pushes closer, as though seeking warmth. She will give it to him. She’ll give him whatever he wants.

He seems at war with himself, both touch-starved and unable to give in. But then he faces her once more. Her eyes trace the scar, and she bites back a gasp when she sees the sapphire in the place of his eye.

“You’re beautiful,” she tells him, because he is.

When he says nothing, she replaces her fingers with lips. She kisses every inch of the slash, and his sharp inhale is the only answer she receives. It is enough. She just needs him to know that she wants him as he is.

Aemond’s arms wrap around her waist, and it is enough. It’s everything she wants.

“I dream of you,” he tells her. “Of this.”

She opens her mouth, prepared to pour her heart out—to confess the lengths of her own desire, and the way it has rendered her mad. But Aemond grabs her hips, breaking them out of tranquility, and pulls the dress up so that it no longer sets them apart. She sees questions in his eye, though she doesn’t understand why he feels the need to ask them. Surely, he knows how deep the roots of her want go.

Wordlessly, she reaches for the laces of his leathers. It is enough of an answer; Aemond’s face softens, and then their lips collide again.

There are so many layers between them. Too many. She claws at his shirt, and he tears the last shreds of her bodice, and then they are skin to skin. She touches every single part of him, learning his shapes and curves. His body is toned, and his skin bears multiple small scars that must have come from a sword, and he is soft. Warm. Hers.

Aemond’s fingers find her entrance. She is slick for him—aching, pulsating, dripping. He circles her clit and swallows her moan, and then he is knuckle-deep inside her.

“Please,” she whines, though she knows not what she’s begging for.

His finger thrusts, and then it curls, touching a spot she never knew existed. She throws her head back, mouth open in a silent gasp. Aemond attaches his lips to her throat.

Release comes in waves, quicker than the previous one. It crashes into her body with full force, and she is helpless against the currents. Before she comes down, Aemond lifts her up and buries his cock in her cunt.

It hurts. It hurts, and he holds her close, and she whimpers into his mouth. Aemond is patient with her. He peppers her face with kisses, sighing into her skin, and stills his movements. The stretch burns, and she cannot help but clench around him. Her hips move on their own accord; her body chases what it inherently wants.

There is tenderness in his eye. It’s enough for her body to melt.

Aemond grunts and pushes deeper into her. The pace is slow, agonising, and she cannot take it. Her muscles spasm beneath his hands; she is completely at his mercy, waiting for each thrust. She tugs at his hair and whispers into his ear, demanding that he fuck her properly.

Time stills. Her clit throbs, and she aims to seek relief with her own fingers, but then Aemond pulls her hand away. The hunger in his eye has turned dangerous. It’s more black than purple.

“As you wish.”

She whimpers when he grabs her by the thighs and moves her body away from the door. He pushes her into the ground, spreading her dress beneath her back to soften the surface, and climbs atop her. His moves are frantic, and there is a glow on his features that must reflect her own. His hair tickles her face. She gives him a beaming smile, and his breath hitches.

His cock drives into her, and at the same moment his sinful fingers find her clit. She cries out. Her eyes roll back, and she tries to close her legs, trembling from the onslaught of pleasure. Aemond grabs her knees and holds them apart. Her dripping cunt is on full display; she sees him watch the place where they’re connected, his lips swollen and eyes glazed over. Aemond rubs her clit and thrust into her like a madman, and the bedchamber is bathed in sounds of clapping skin and wanton moans.

She makes no sound when she peaks. Her mouth falls open as she convulses beneath him, and Aemond pushes his fingers down her throat.

“One more,” he grunts. “Give me one more.”

Her body trembles. She can’t. No more, no more—

But Aemond’s torturous fingers keep flicking against her nub, and his rock-hard length twitches deep inside her, and she can’t stop. She can’t stop.

She is boneless. Her spine arches, and Aemond topples over her chest, and their orgasms come at once. They’re amidst clouds, suspended in the air; above turbulent waters; high enough to be scorched by the sun.

They burn. Together, they burn.

Their hearts beat in the same tune. Aemond puts his hand on her chest, in the hollow between her breasts, and she weaves her fingers into his hair. When he looks at her, all she sees is scorching affection.

He stays buried inside her, as though equally reluctant to let their bodies part. Purple and sapphire glow in the dark, and she watches him, breathless and enthralled, unable to look away.

“I have claimed you,” he whispers into the night.

Her eyes are soft. With her fingertips, she writes letters down the length of his spine. She knows the words, though for now they remain invisible to the eye. Aemond looks at her with awe, hands still warm against her cheeks as he holds her. She wishes she could hear his thoughts. Wonders if she’d find remorse and guilt, and the desire to turn back time.

There is no regret in her heart. This—their bodies woven into one—was fated. His first touch planted a seed inside her, and its destiny was to bloom.

“Then I’m yours.”

His hands find hers, and there is only fire.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond smut #hotd #aemond x reader #asoiaf #aemond fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon

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