#philosophy sessions au

[spotsupstuff]

revisiting and updating the main OGs for the AU + some Iterator culture exploration

[roleyartnstuff]

That big ol' fishman

More @spotsupstuff's AU posting, never getting bored of it!

BTW the thingy im doing of this one AU is still being made, but i still cant show any of it, so ig ill post for now this old doodle of sparrows

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “i’m boyfriend material!” he cries indignantly, offended despite the fact that he’d never kept a relationship for more than a few months out of sheer boredom, and you pause before looking him up and down. / “…mhmm.”

𝐟��𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: jujutsu kaisen | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: satoru gojo/f!reader, mild sukuna/reader | 𝐫𝐚��𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 6.25k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: college au, fem reader, fuckboy satoru, protected sex ( wrap it up cumsluts ), jealousy, attempted hand-holding, brief nanami cameo, satoru gets hard attached and then is O.O when reader is like ‘nah imma dip now’, slight angst, unrequited love, previously established relationship ( just not w gojo 💀💀 ), cheating ( by reader ), bf sukuna.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: hmmm gojo’s not suffered enough, let’s do THIS 👹👹

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Gojo Satoru was not nervous. 

All he had to do was ask a simple girl in his Philosophy course out so he could take her home and sleep with her. He’d never asked any of the girls in his Philosophy course out, though, so he was a little hesitant. As odd as it would seem, he enjoyed this class, and he didn’t want anything awkward to happen — which was why Suguru had directed him your way. 

‘“She won’t make it weird,”’ he’d said, though how he’d known when Satoru knew every person that his best friend had ever slept with ( and you had not been one of them ) was beyond him. 

Remember, he thinks to himself, glancing over at you a few times in a way he thinks isn’t noticeable, She’s gonna fall all over you, just like all the others, as soon as you ask her out. Easy lay. 

And he wasn’t nervous. 

Class ends, and he waits for everyone to make their way out. From experience over the last semester and a half, you were one of the last people to leave, taking your time considering you didn’t have any more courses after this one ended at noon on Tuesdays until 5pm. Once only a few stragglers are left, he grabs his books and saunters over, plastering on one of his most breathtaking grins ( if he did say so himself ), then leaning against your desk. You don’t look at him, blatant disinterest emanating off of you, but he forges forward. 

“So… I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight?” he asks, preening over how quick all the past yeses came. Men and women fell all over him like water rolls over stone in riverbeds, 

“No.”

“Great, I was thinking maybe that new Italian joint—,” Satoru pauses. Blinks. Registers your words. “…What?”

“No. Is a two letter word so difficult for you to understand?” Satoru is… shocked, for lack of a better word. He’d never actually been told no before. 

“But… why?” His question is whinier than he’d intended, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. You narrow your eyes up at him. 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you — but if you must know, I  go on dates with the man I intend to be in a relationship with,” you say honestly, and Satoru fights back a snort. “I don’t date someone who’s only  good for a quick fucking session.”

“I’m boyfriend material!” he cries indignantly, offended despite the fact that he’d never kept a relationship for more than a few months out of sheer boredom, and you pause before looking him up and down. 

“…Mhmm,” is your only reply, and he pouts. You go back to finishing up, and he thinks for a moment, drumming his fingers against the surface of your desk before shrugging. 

“Interested in hooking up, then?” he asks, and you glance up at him questioningly. “We don’t have to date, we could just have sex.” Not that you’d want to keep him as ‘just a fuckbuddy’ for too long, Satoru thinks. 

You hum softly, seeming to think it over, then give a slight nod. “Sure, we can fuck,” you say with a lazy shrug, then sigh. “But no feelings. I’m not interested, especially not with someone who has a reputation like yours.”

“You say that now, but you’re gonna be beggin’ for me to be your boyfriend,” Satoru chuckles, and you roll your eyes. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply, sounding amused as you cross your arms, and without missing a beat he waggles his eyebrows at you, and you raise one of your own. “What?”

“Wanna get started on this friends-with-benefits thing now? My car’s in the parking lot,” he grins, and you look completely unimpressed. 

You resume picking up your notebooks and textbook, shoving them in your backpack and steadfastly refusing to look at his goofy expression. “I’m not fucking in your dirty-ass backseat,” you reply grumpily. “I might catch something.”

“I’ll have you know my car is amazing and clean and perfect,” Satoru retorts, acting as if his feelings are hurt, and you scoff. 

“Not with you as a driver. Didn’t you hit a sorority mailbox last month?”

He’s silent for a moment. “We’re in philosophy class, you know. Most philosophers say that it’s ‘unwise to root yourself in the past’.”

You just blink at him, then roll your eyes again and slide your laptop into your bag. “That alone tells me everything I need to know.”

“Y’know, you’re really mean,” he pouts, and you have to fight off the urge to smile. Sometimes he was amusing, even though you didn’t want to admit it. 

“I know. It’s one of my best traits,” you reply, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “See you in class.”

One week later, Gojo finally picks you up — that is, your shared Philosophy course ends and you both head to his car. You’ve both tossed your bags in the back and are sitting in the drive-through of a fast food place waiting on your coffees with you tapping away at your phone while he hands his card through the window so he can pay for the drinks you’d gotten along with his own. 

He pulls forward after getting his card back, then brightens a little as he remembered the question he’d wanted to ask before he’d forgotten after asking if you wanted a drink. 

“Do you want to type your address into my GPS so we can—“ Satoru starts, and his eyes widen when you interrupt him almost immediately. 

“Not at my place. Never at my place, Gojo,” you snap, and he nods almost dumbly. He’d not expected you to be so stern about it, nor for you to deny him heading to your apartment or house or whatever ( especially considering his hookups typically didn’t care as long as they ended up with him in their bed. In the back of his mind an alarm bell rings, but he dumbly chose to ignore it. 

“That’s — That’s fine, no problem, we can go to my place,” he replies, pushing a fake grin on his face. He watches you visibly relax back into the passenger seat, and relaxes himself before pulling up to the second window and taking your drinks. He hands you your drink then pulls away while sipping at his own Diet Coke, glancing at you every now and then as he drives back to his apartment rather than wherever you lived. 

Part of him was nervous; he never really ever brought hookups back to his apartment — hell, he’d only brought like two of his prior girlfriends there, so this was a big break from his normal meet-up for sex. Still, he’d talked so much shit to Suguru when he’d said he’d manage to fuck you, so he couldn’t back out now. 

He’d taken out the trash yesterday, right?

He pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, easing into his spot and putting the car in park before taking a breath and leaning back. You aren’t paying him any attention, still in your phone apparently texting someone from what he could see from the corner of his eye, and once you’re done you lock your phone before turning your body to face him in his seat. 

You ask quietly, “Gojo… are you sure you want to do this?” and he pauses as he starts unclipping his seatbelt. 

“Yeah, of course! Why would I, uh — Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, nodding with a smile. You raise an eyebrow. 

“You’re acting nervous.” You deadpan, and he laughs. 

“Nervous? I’m not nervous! Let’s fuck, babe,” he says brightly, opening his car door and hopping out as you shrug and unclip your own belt. 

“…Don’t call me babe, but whatever. If you’re sure,” you say lazily, then add, “By the way, three of my friends know I came home with you, and I just dropped a location pin in a group chat, so… it’d be easier if you weren’t some creepo murderer.”

Satoru laughs again, this time actually amused. “That’s great, they’ll know the location of the best dick in Japan! Second floor.”

You scoff, but follow him up the stairs, stopping only as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and works on getting them in the lock. Eventually it pops into place, and you follow him inside, toeing off your shoes and following him quietly, eyeing him as he takes his loose coat off and tosses it on the back of his couch before following his lead to the bedroom. He lets you come in before turning to close the door, and is surprised when he turns and your shirt is already on the floor and you’re working on wiggling out of your tight skirt. 

“I — oh! Like to do the work yourself, huh?” He jokes, and you scoff through a playful smile. 

“Please. If we fuck and you just lay there, the entire campus will hear about it before midnight, I promise,” You reply. Satoru just grins. 

“Who says we’ll be done by midnight?” He asks cheekily, and you laugh again. 

“Gojo Satoru, it is two in the afternoon,” you say, and he laughs and starts unbuckling his belt. 

“And?” he purrs, tossing it aside and kicking his pants away after they pool around his ankles, leaving his boxers on as you kick off your own skirt, leaving you in a mismatched bra and underwear set. He’s discovered he much prefers you this way — almost naked and ready to joke around with him — rather than the way you were cold and quiet in class. You actually seemed human here, and he was starting to understand why Suguru had said you were easy to be around; Satoru had thought he was lying just to fuck with him, but apparently you were typically this way in the bedroom and at parties after a few drinks. It was an interesting thing about you to learn in all honesty. 

He presses his front to yours, wasting no time and dipping his head down to kiss you, mashing your lips together hard and his hands snake behind your back and unclip your bra at the same time that you slip the condom you’d taken out of your bra between your teeth and hook your thumbs in the waistband of his own underwear and push them down. He steps out of them as you stumble backwards towards his bed, leading him along before falling back with him on top of you, both of you still kissing. 

You start to unwrap the condom. “You’re a good kisser,” you mumble into his mouth, reaching one hand down to shimmy out of your panties while the other tangles itself in his hair, tugging lightly. Once they’re over the edge of the bed they fall to your ankles and you just step out of them, reaching between your bodies and slipping the condom down his shaft with an experienced sort of ease that faintly amused him.

“Why the tone of surprise?” Satoru laughs, nipping at your bottom lip before starting to kiss a line down your throat, savoring the area over your pulse point as you let out soft, happy sighs.

“Mmm, kinda thought you’d have loser dick — but like, a real loser, not the sexy kind,” you reply honestly, and Satoru would have been offended if he wasn’t so fucking horny. He just laughs against your hot skin  and keeps kissing, about to kneel when you tug him back up. “Don’t need your mouth on my cunt, need your cock in me,” you grunt, and Satoru barely chokes back the whimper that threatens to escape him. 

“G-Gotta — Gotta prep you,” he argues as you reach between your bodies and grip his dick in an almost too-perfect grip. 

“Prepped myself before class, and I’m plenty soaked,” you reply, pressing his head in. He doesn’t bother trying to hide the low groan that tumbles from his lips at the thought of you fingering open the hot cunt he was so close to, then sitting in class with him only a few seats away, ready and waiting for him to fill you. “Plus I enjoy the stretch. Don’t pussy out now, Gojo.”

“Stop calling me Gojo when I’m about to be balls deep in you,” Satoru growls, and you just laugh with a defiant glint in your eye. 

“You gotta earn me saying your first name, loser boy,” you taunt, and he narrows his eyes before bottoming out in one go, watching in satisfaction as your eyes widen and your pupils blow further all at once… then the feeling hits. 

“God, you’re fucking tight,” he groans, letting his head fall. “Fuckin’ hot too.”

“Don’t tell me slippin’ it in is gonna do it for you,” you whisper, and Satoru forces himself to pull out, his eyes squeezing shut at the perfect friction in the glide of his cock slipping out of you, before thrusting back in. 

He starts a steady pumping of his hips, taking you over the edge of the bed like a beast on its bitch at a breeding bench. He can feel your nails digging into his back and scalp and it makes him make a tight fist in the sheets, soft moans falling from his mouth as he fucks into you desperately. 

“F-Fuck — Oh god, Satoru, you fucking bastard-!” you moan, holding tight as he ruts into you, and he laughs breathlessly through a moan of his own. 

“E-Earned it already?” he asks playfully, and you laugh through a moan yourself. 

“Again, thought you were a real loser. Now shut up and keep fucking me,” your words come out in a low purr as you toss one arm around his neck, amd he busies himself with doing as told, not bothered by taking a command to fuck your willing body like this. 

Soft groans of your name and his coupled with cursing and cries for God fill the room as the two of you fuck, your sweat and precum smearing across both of your bodies as you both get closer and closer to orgasm. “C’mon, just like that — gonna cum, gonna cum!” you whisper, and Satoru presses closer and keeps his pace and position the same, listening to the way your voice pitches. He’s been on the verge of cumming himself for the past fifteen minutes, but he’d be damned if he came before you the first time the two of you fucked — not when you still somehow thought he was a loser. 

“Cum for me, babe, cum for me—“ he half-begs lowly, and you huff through a moan. 

“What did I — did I say about calling me babe?” you ask, and he shakes his head. 

“Sorry, sweetheart — God, please, just fucking cum already!”

You laugh a little, a laugh that breaks apart like brittle ice at the end as your pussy starts clenching tightly around his cock and you dig your nails into his skin hard enough to leave marks. “Fuck — fuck, fuck — fuckfuckfuck, cumming-!”

Satoru’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him, and the sounds of your cries as you cum around have his own falling from his lips as he fills the condom wrapped around his cock and you slowly relax completely into the bed, unmoving aside from a couple stray twitches and a lazy hand against his chest to get him off of you. He falls bonelessly onto the bed next to you, tugging the condom off and tossing it into the trash can by his bed before returning to letting his legs dangle off of the side of bed with his feet flat against the floor like yours. 

He waits a moment, enjoying the silence between you both before asking, “Well?”

You make a confused noise and turn to look at him. “Well what?” you ask, amd he chuckles. 

“Am I a loser?” he asks cheekily, and you laugh brightly. 

“Oh, definitely. Big loser energy from you, Satoru,” you reply. 

“What?!” he exclaims, turning onto his side to look at you head on, and you laugh again and nod as you sit up and stretch with your arms over your head. 

“Yep. But hey — you’re a loser with good dick,” you offer, standing on slightly wobbly legs, and start to get dressed. 

“What a comfort,” he mutters, acting annoyed, and you see through it just as he knew you would. 

“It should be,” you reply, zipping up your skirt then putting on the shirt you’d thrown over your forearm. “See you later, loser. My ride’s outside.”

Satoru’s quiet for a second, unused to girls just leaving, much less having already called cars to wait for them outside while he fucks them, “…Yeah, later…” And you’re out the door in less than five minutes with nothing but a wave and a yawn.

After a moment he stands and makes his way into the kitchen, peeping out the window to see you climb into the passenger side of a car driven by someone with short pink hair. He sighs. 

The sex was good — but today did not go like he’d expected. 

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟏𝐏𝐌

𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 dropped a pin!

meet me at starbucks

i’m getting a coffee

then we can fuck or wtv

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟏𝐏𝐌

why r u getting coffee at 9pm

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

don’t ask questions your tiny brain can’t understand the answers to

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌 

i literally only asked why ur getting coffee so late :(

ur so mean :((

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

and yet u still like to fuck me?? lmfao loser

Satoru throws his phone down on the passenger’s side seat, pouting with a huff and drumming his fingers against the top of the steering wheel as he slowly follows the line of traffic towards the Starbucks you’d pin dropped, and he sees you before you see him. You’re texting someone, a large coffee in hand, and you look… happy. Satoru didn’t think he’d ever actually seen you smile a real smile before, not in class when you’d ignored him for months before he’d proposed being fuckbuddies and not even during the last couple months that the two of you had been hooking up. Every now and then in between fucking each other he’d catch you gazing down at your phone with a fond look in your eyes, but he didn’t really ask about it anymore; you always dodged his questions, and it always led to you being in a foul mood and leaving him. He learned quickly to just… not say anything and let you do your own thing so he could empty his balls and you stay happy and with him. 

Stay with him? God, what was the matter with him? He sounded like a clingy high-schooler, desperate to keep their first relationship. No, he was supposed to sleep with you once, get off, then go laugh about it with Suguru — not… whatever he was doing. It had been six months, why was he still here — fuck, who was he kidding? Satoru knew exactly why he was still here: he liked you. A lot. 

He’s in too deep, and now he can’t back out. 

You open the passenger side door, disrupting him from his thoughts. “Hmm, on time as usual. Desperate, huh?” you ask, sipping at your coffee, and it takes everything in Satoru to scoff at your words and start up the car as you clip on your seatbelt, because the answer was yes. He is desperate. He wants you, wants to hold your hand and take photos with you and brag about how beautiful you are to Suguru and his other friends, and wants for the world to know that you were each other’s partner. He wants to kiss you, not in the sloppy way that left your lipstick smeared across your face as he fucked into you, but softly and slowly so you can tell with each tiny shift how much he loves you. Yeah, you’re mean to him, you make fun of him all the damn time — but god, does he fucking like it. 

It’s a slow, careful motion when he reaches a hand over to first grasp at your thigh before moving over ever so slightly to hold your hand as he drives, and a pang bounces through his chest as you immediately tug your hand away and turn away from him. 

He doesn’t try to touch you again for the rest of the car ride, and before he knows it he’s once again back at his apartment, the motions of making his way to the bedroom with you at his back all a blur. You’re on him before he can remind himself to breathe as the sight of you bare and vulnerable before him takes his breath away as it always does — but you aren’t vulnerable, are you? You’re closed off, all sharp corners and twisted smiles, but maybe — just maybe — he’s blunting them a bit. 

“O-Oh God — oh, fuck-!” Satoru whimpers softly, his thick eyelashes fluttering as he fists his hands in the sheets beneath him while you bounce on his cock, tiny gasps falling from your lips as you swallow up all of his thick length. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as drowns in the sensations of your sopping cunt taking him entirely, his fat tip slamming against your cervix with each rough drop down. 

“Fuck yes, Satoru!” You hiss sharply, clenching around him and digging your nails into his shoulders. “Y’fill me up so fuckin’ good, ‘Toru-!”

“Yes, yes — fuckfuckfuck, c’mon!” Satoru whines, bucking his hips up to meet yours as they drop down harshly. “You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart, so fuckin’ wet!”

Lewd wet noises and the slapping of bare flesh along with the crude banging of his headboard against the walk fill the bedroom, mixing with the sounds falling from your lips, as well as his. Satoru sits up, wrapping and arm around your middle as yours instinctively loop around his shoulders, your lips catching his in a searing kiss that sends a fond warmth from his mouth all the way down to his toes. 

“God, yes,” you moan into his mouth, “So fuckin’ good, Satoru — don’t stop, don’t stop-!”

“Won’t, can’t, won’t stop!” Satoru promises through a moan of his own, a deep groan following it triggered by the feeling of your tongue running along his. His fingers dig into your skin hard enough to bruise as you tear your mouth away from his in order to latch onto his neck and bite down, nipping and kissing and sucking as his head falls back in time with the feeling of the soft heat kindling in his belly start growing hotter and hotter. “F-Fuck — damn it, m’gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, Satoru,” you whine sharply, and he whimpers a little. 

“B-But you-?” he starts, his words devolving into a garbled moan as you pick up the pace. 

“I’m close too — c’mon, ‘Toru, cum with me!” You plead softly, and Satoru needs no further prodding. He clings to you tightly as he starts cumming, his own fingernails digging into your skin as his hips buck up messily into your welcoming hips with each new burst of cum. Your voice pitches in the way he knows it does during your own orgasm, and he forces the haze away just enough so that he can look at you and watch you fall apart on his lap. 

God, you’re beautiful. 

The two of you bask in the moment for about ten minutes before you finally end it, pulling away and staggering into the bathroom in the hallway to piss. Satoru sighs and tosses the condom in the trash can after tying it off, falling back against his bed with an arm thrown over his eyes. He can hear you come back into the bedroom, can hear you moving around, assumingly so you can no doubt be ready to leave again — which is why he’s surprised at the feeling of the blankets beneath him being thrown back and the mattress dipping beneath your weight. 

He stares at you in surprise as you begin making yourself comfortable, fluffing your pillow and finding the spot on the side of the bed you’d chosen before you finally catch him staring. “Go to sleep, Gojo,” you mutter, shimmying around beneath the blankets as you try to get comfortable in a technically strange bed. 

His eyes widen in half-wanting shock. “You’re staying the night?” Satoru asks hopefully, and you sigh. 

“I’m tired,” you reply simply. “Now go to sleep.”

Sayoru nods wildly, his heart pounding. You were staying the night — you were staying. With him. “Yeah… yeah! Okay. Sleep. I can do that!”

You nod tiredly. “Good,” you say, amd you click off the lamp on the nightstand next to you as Satoru does the same. An odd silence fills the room as Satoru follows your previous motions of getting ready to rest before finally getting comfortable under the blankets. 

He rolls over to rest on his side, staring at the way you lay with your back to him. “…Goodnight,” Satoru murmurs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours. It doesn’t sting as harshly as before when you move your hand away, considering you do allow him to drap his arm over your waist while pressing his chest to your back. You’re silent for a moment, but you do eventually respond as his warmth begins to seep into you.

“…Goodnight, Satoru,” you say, and he hums drowsily. 

You’re both asleep within fifteen minutes. Neither of you comment on how well the two of your bodies slot together outside of sex. 

It’s 1am when Satoru wakes up, his vision blurry and the red numbers on his bedside clock more aggressive than he remembered. 

Blearily he pats the mattress behind himself, wondering why he’d turned away from you in his sleep, and finds nothing but cool sheets, which leads him to rolling over. He’s startled, almost certain he’ll find the bathroom light on in the hallway, but no — it’s darker than he’d like, even at twenty-three, and you’re not here. Snatching up his cellphone, a quick scan of it tells him all he needs to know. 

You left him. 

Again. 

Three days later, Satoru finds himself parked in front of the dining hall on campus, waiting for you to come out, likely followed by one or two of your friends. After waiting about ten minutes, you do just that — only you’re walking closer to an older man in a suit than he for some reason felt comfortable with, and he moves around in his seat a little to get comfortable while watching your interactions with the man with narrowed eyes. He grits his teeth for a moment when the man touches your arm in a too-casual way, then crosses his own when he sees you smile at him. The two of you stop on the sidewalk several paces from his car, then finally split off. 

“So… Who was that old guy?” he asks as you slip into the passenger seat, and you pause as you put your bag in the backseat. He doesn’t want to just foolishly believe that you’re genuinely confused, but he also doesn’t want to think ill of you without reason, so he ‘decides’ to withhold judgment for now. 

“What?” you ask, confused, and he sighs in blatant annoyance. 

“The old guy. The one you were literally just talking to,” he grouses. “The one who was getting so touchy.”

“‘Old guy’ — wait, the blond?” You ask, almost in a shocked way, and he nods. You snort; Satoru doesn’t know what’s so funny. “That was professor Kento — my History professor,” you reply, and Satoru can feel his cheeks heat up a little, but he refuses to look at you as you start laughing. 

“Oh my god! You were fucking jealous of Professor Kento?!” you giggle, and while he’s embarrassed he can’t deny that he enjoys the sound, even if it was at his own expense. What the hell was wrong with him? “That’s so fucking wild — like c’mon man, we aren’t even dating. If I wanted to fuck Professor Kento, it wouldn’t even fucking matter.” A lump settles in Satoru’s throat at your words. 

Yes, it would. 

“But… you aren’t, right?” Satoru asks carefully as he pulls the car out of park, and you sigh. 

“No, Satoru. I’m not going to fuck my History professor.” you say softly, blatantly amused, but it’s too late now — Satoru’s upset, and he can’t stop the words from coming out. 

“Because I just — I don’t want anyone else with you like me, y’know?” he asks, almost paranoid. He fails to notice the way you stiffen next to him and forges on, his heartbeat quickening as his panic picks up. “It’s just — really like you. Like a lot. And it scares me. But it doesn’t scare me enough to not want you to myself, you know? I just want you and want to be with you and—“

“Take me home.”

Satoru pauses. “W-What?” he asks, uncertain of the icy tone you’d taken on when interrupting him. 

“My address is in your GPS,” you say quietly, then repeat yourself. “Take me home.”

“But-“ Satoru whispers, but you shake your head almost violently. 

“Now. Or I’ll walk,” you threaten lowly, and that’s all it takes for him to listen. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence until he reaches your apartment. You’re out of the car before he can say your name, and he’s following you before he can even ask himself why. 

He’s right behind you as you go into your kitchen, watching in surprise as you pull out a large bottle of wine from the fridge while simultaneously throwing open a cabinet next to the refrigerator in order to pull out a wine glass. You pull the cork out, fill the glass, and empty it in one go before refilling it again.  

Tentatively, Satoru says, “Please, I just — I think I’m in love with you. Can’t we talk about this?” and you laugh borderline hysterically. 

“And say what?! What do you expect of me, Gojo?” you ask, your tone harsh enough to make him flinch, but he answers you anyway. 

“I… I want you to be my girlfriend,” he says softly, feeling smaller than he ever had before. 

You laugh again, this time less hysterically and more in disbelief. “No,” You say, and Satoru blinks in shock. 

“What? N-No?” He asks, voice shaky. 

“No!” you snap icily, turning back to your wine. You empty your glass again as Satoru begins to reflect on the situation at hand; it’s bitterly ironic, the deja vū he’s feeling. This conversation is brutally close to the first time he’d asked you out all those months ago with the sole goal in mind being getting in your pants and ditching you, whether that meant hurting you in the process or not. How poetically cruel ( and simultaneously deserved ) that he’s the one hurt in the end. 

“Can I ask why?” he finally asks, and you turn around tk face him again, your eyes wild and cold. 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you growl, and he lifts his hands in surrender while nodding in agreement. 

“I know that, I just—“ Satoru swallows hard. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Do something wrong? God, Gojo, yes! You asked me to be your fucking girlfriend — I literally said before we ever fucked that you couldn’t catch feelings, what is wrong with you?!

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers, his chest filled with a stabbing pain he’d nkt ever expected to experience while in your company.

“What does that matter now?! This thing we’ve been doing is over,” you mutter, taking a long drink of your wine. Satoru’s eyes widen exponentially, and the panic begins to set in anew. 

“Over?!” he exclaims, shaking his head a little, and you scoff.

“Of course it’s over!” You snap angrily, pointing at him accusingly. “You ruined it! Feelings were never supposed to be involved!”

Satoru wilts completely. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, just as quietly as before, and you sigh audibly as you lean against the counter. 

“An apology won’t fix this,” you say bitterly. Satoru wants to argue, wants to assure you that he can be good and do better, that the two of you don’t have to stop seeing each other, but he’s instead startled when the door to the entry hall opens without warning, and he spins to glance at the doorway like whoever came in is intruding as you groan and cross your arms after putting down your wine, covering your eyes with one hand at the same time. 

“C’mon Yuuji, kick your shoes off under the coat rack,” a deep voice rumbles, and a man with pink hair strolls in like he owns the place. Satoru would be extremely alarmed if you’d seemed so yourself, but you made no move to react, apparently used to the man being in your apartment. “I’m gonna grab a beer from the kitchen and see if she’s home yet.” His eyebrows raise with ill-concealed interest when he finally lays them on Satoru. “And who are you?”

“Who are you?” Satoru parrots quietly, a sickening feeling twisting his stomach as his mind thinks up just what scenario could lead to a random man in your apartment — but was he random?

Roommates. Please, please just be roommates, Satoru finds himself begging in his kind, though no one could hear him. 

“I’m one of the two people on the lease of this apartment, and the boyfriend of the woman behind you,” the man says, narrowing his eyes; a jolt of nausea stabs through Satoru’s stomach. “I’ll ask again: who are you?”

“He’s no one, Sukuna,” you mutter, sounding annoyed. Yet another sharp pain shocks through Satoru’s chest, and he turns back to look at you in disbelief as you walk past him and wrap your arms around Sukuna’s waist, hugging him. Your voice is muffled by his chest when you say, “Welcome home, baby,” and he kisses the crown of your head and you let go, drifting over to the younger looking ( also very confused and clearly a little uncomfortable ) boy who resembles ‘Sukuna’. “C’mon Yuuji, help me set up the new console Sukuna and I got last Friday.”

The teenager follows without hesitation, the awkwardness on his face from the odd altercation fading as he starts talking to you excitedly about some boy in his Biology II class he thinks is cute, and suddenly Satoru is left alone with Sukuna. The other man is staring at him, and it's making him uncomfortable. 

“Y’slept with her?” he asks finally, and again Satoru is startled. He just slowly nods, and Sukuna shrugs and moves past him to the fridge, fishing out a beer and popping the top off before taking a large swig. “No big deal. You’re not the first she’s run around with.”

Satoru’s startled all over again. “You… don’t care?”

“Oh, I absolutely care! I’ll have you know I’m a damn jealous man — but I know I’ve got nothing to worry about,” Sukuna chuckles, looking completely unbothered as he shrugs again. “She’s my woman after all — has been since junior high.” He laughs, takes another drink, and continues while making his way over to the bottle of wine and the half empty glass she’d left on the counter. “Hell, she even officially adopted my kid brother with me when our grandfather died last year — Pretty sure she and I are set.”

Satoru feels sick, and he wants to go home. He understands now, he realizes that he never had a claim to your heart at all. God, he was an idiot. 

Sukuna hums slightly in thought, tipping his head to the side ever so slightly. “Her sleeping around every now and then makes the sex better though. Every now and then we’ll agree we wanna spice things up, and she’ll pick some poor idiot to fuck. It makes me angry, gets me all jealous and possessive, and since we both love it when I fuck her like I hate her — even if that couldn’t be farther from the truth — it’s a double win.”

“So you just — you cheat on each other just to boost your sex?” Satory asks, completely in disbelief. Sukuna just scoffs and shakes his head, knocking back the rest of his beer before chasing it with the remnants of what you had left in your wine glass before crossing his arms.

“Nah, she’s it for me — never been interested in anyone else. Besides, I know she’ll always come back to me. She’s proven that today, hasn’t she?”

That stung — but he wasn’t wrong. You had proven yourself to your boyfriend again, and Satoru looked like nothing but a fool. 

“Go home, Gojo,” Sukuna finally says, finally sounding annoyed. It seems his patience with Satoru being in his home has run as thin as possible. “She’s never going to love you, so leave. There’s nothing for you here.”

Absently Satoru wonders how Sukuna could possibly know his name when he’d never given it, until he registers that Sukuna must have known the entire time who he was because you’d told him about him, and didn’t that just make it worse? He’d been an idiot, had been so damn sure that you’d love him back. 

Fuck. Just like before, Gojo Satoru was not nervous. 

He was heartbroken instead. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[drunk-person]

Study Session

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x classmate!reader

Summary: Aemond is assigned to a college work with Y/n, an absent-minded art student who doesn't give a damn about philosophy. Things don't go well since she doesn't help him at all, until the two come to an unorthodox agreement that ends the impasse.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! secret crush, semi-nudity, voyeurism, breast fetish, exchange of academic favors for "sex", modern au, no description for reader.

Word cont: 3.200k

Author's note: This just came to my mind while doing some really boring work and I ended up writing it. The Rosby house is close to Kings Landing so I chose this surname for the reader, I hope you like it.

Dedicated to the poor readers of The Gossip who read chapter 7 and are in need of some comfort for their souls after all that mess hahaha I love you all! English is not my first language 💕💕🥰

Y/n was so frustrated. That class was absolutely hellish and if it wasn't mandatory in her schedule she would certainly never even pass in front of the door. The only reasonable side to all of this was the fact that Aemond Targaryen sat in front of her during this unbearable class. He could be as arrogant as he wanted if he continued to be so hot.

The girl bit her lip as she stared at the back of his pale neck that was exposed to her eyes since his long silver hair was tied in a bun due to the heat wave. The two had never exchanged more than a few words, but Y/n couldn't help it, he was too handsome and intelligent for his own good.

She didn't know how he could understand that subject and answer all the questions the teacher asked as if they were obvious to him. Y/n did her best to hide her crush, but whenever no one was looking she couldn't help but sigh lightly as she looked at him.

She was barely in the same reality as the rest of the class when she heard her name being called harshly by the professor, pulling her out of her deep thoughts and back to real life.

-I'm sorry, professor, I was distracted. - She looked down, blushing when she realized that the whole class was looking at her while letting out light giggles.

-Which seems to be a very common occurrence with you, doesn't it? - The man spoke in an irritated voice and Y/n felt her face heat up even more.

-If you're interested in knowing, Miss Rosby, we're holding a draw for pairs of work for the semester. - The professor was still looking at Y/n as he spoke and reaching into the jar, he pulled out a new piece of paper.

-Aemond Targaryen.

Y/n felt her heart stop momentarily when she heard that name. Would her semester partner be Aemond Targaryen? The gods must have wanted to play with her.

-Good luck, Mr Targaryen, you will need it. - The man said, making the whole class laugh, except for Aemond, who, without Y/n noticing, glared at the teacher when he heard the mean joke.

After the class ended, the room gradually emptied, while the few remaining students put their books and notebooks in their backpacks. Aemond finished writing some notes in his notebook under the watchful eye of Y/n, who was anxiously waiting to talk to him.

And when he turned towards her with that serious look and that sculpted face, Y/n smiled and pretended to be disinterested.

-I don't understand half of what that man says. - She shrugged, staring at him while Aemond frowned. - I hope it won't be a problem for you to be my partner.

-Maybe you would understand if you spent more time paying attention in class and less time drawing. - Aemond rolled his good eye, putting away his own books while Y/n felt her belly heat up.

How did he know she was drawing in class if he had his back to her the whole time?

-I don't like studying boring things that guys who died centuries ago said and that don't make any sense.

-But do you like studying works that boring guys who died centuries ago painted and that don't make any sense? - He raised his eyebrows ironically, looking at her and Y/n's mouth slightly opened, not knowing what to say.

-That… That's not the point.

-Mmmm… if you say so. - The irony was poignant in his voice and expression and Y/n slightly narrowed her eyes, feeling the urge to argue more without knowing what to answer.

-They… They're not meaningless! - She snorted in annoyance and Aemond just let out a nasal laugh while raising his eyebrows.

-Most of them are just a bunch of meaningless scribbles. - He rolled his eyes, putting his backpack on his back.

-The name is surrealism, and perhaps underdeveloped minds don't understand it very well! - Y/n lifted her chin, pulled her own bag onto her shoulder and pressed the sketchbook against her chest, leaving before Aemond, leaving him with a mischievous smile on his lips as he watched her leave.

Y/n rolled her eyes, irritated with herself as she walked towards the open courtyard of the college, sitting at a stone table and throwing her bag on it, seriously considering diverting her idiotic crush on Aemond Targaryen to another guy.

Unfortunately for her, at the same moment the thought crossed her mind, his soft voice called her from behind and the hairs on the back of the girl's neck stood on end at the same moment, making her snort.

-We need to decide where and when we're going to meet to start the work. - He murmured and Y/n turned to look at him, snorting when she saw that he looked even more attractive with the sunlight shining through his silver hair.

In the natural light, the prosthetic eye was more visible than indoors, as was the thin scar that ran from the eye to the forehead and cheek. Y/n didn't give a shit, she just thought he looked even hotter if that was possible.

-Rosby? - Aemond called her, his voice miles away from taking her out of her self-imposed trance.

-I'm sorry, I got a bit distracted. - She shook her head, trying to focus on the conversation, and Aemond turned his face to the side, smiling discreetly at the action. - What did you say?

-We'll meet to start work.

-Oh, yes, yes. - She nodded thoughtfully. - How about the library?

-I don't study in the library, there are always idiots who go there to make a mess and interfere with concentration. - Aemond rolled his eyes with a frown, making her rack her brain to remember if she had ever messed up in the library.

-Yeah. They're all idiots! - She agreed, rolling her eyes when she came to the conclusion that she hadn't done anything wrong in the college library.

-We can go to my dorm. - Y/n shrugged, trying to be casual. - But my roommate is always there and never turns off the TV.

-Don't you have your own room? - He looked at her confused and Y/n laughed.

-Not all of us can own the campus. - She grimaced and Aemond rolled his eyes.

-Your family has money too.

-Having money is different from being a filthy rich Targaryen. - She grumbled as she gestured lightly with her hands, arching her eyebrows, and Aemond didn't contest her.

-Whatever, let's meet in my dorm, it's empty there and no one will disturb us.

Y/n nodded, subtly biting her lower lip at the idea that she would go to Aemond's room.

-Where is it? - She came back to reality, remembering to ask, and asking her for a pen, Aemond wrote down the number and the floor on the last page of the sketchbook that was on the table.

-See you on Friday. - He murmured, turning around and leaving her as soon as he finished writing, making her sigh once more at hearing that voice so close to her.

♤♡

Y/n did her best to look beautiful in the most disinterested way possible. Just a gray blouse with black denim shorts and a thin black coat on top, her hair tied with a simple clip and just a bit of lipstick. It was almost how she looked every day, except for the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, but with the coat on top he probably wouldn't even notice that fact.

Apart from the fact that when she got there she discovered that they were fixing the cooling system in Aemond's building and now she was without the coat and wearing only the thin blouse, attracting Aemond's discreet glance at her from time to time.

The two spread their materials across the table in the living room connected to the bedroom and sat on the floor to study. Unfortunately, Aemond was having more trouble concentrating in his own room than in the library, with the sight of Y/n in that blouse in front of him, scribbling drawings on her philosophy book while pretending to read something.

When he finally managed to read a few words, he could hear her melodious laughter from the other side of the table.

-What is it? - He murmured almost in a growl making her become serious.

-It's just that I'm watching and I think my shared dorm room would fit inside yours.- She shrugged and Aemond rolled his eyes without giving a verbal response.

Minutes later, when he went back to reading focused and taking some important notes, her voice rang out once again, distracting him.

-I'm so lazy. - Y/n threw herself onto the philosophy books open on the coffee table in Aemond's dorm room, and he slightly arched his eyebrows.

-You haven't done anything so far. - He grumbled as he took note of an important quote that he would probably use in the future during the work.

-Because this subject is totally boring. - The girl mumbled with her head still lying on the books but now with her face turned towards Aemond looking at him while slowly blinking her eyes feeling a little sleepy. Until now, nothing interesting had happened outside of her imagination.

-Boredom or not, I think it's better to start working on your part, because there's no way I'm going to give you credit for something you didn't do. - Aemond looked at her very seriously while Y/n sulked, crossing her arms under her breasts, slightly drawing the older man's attention there again.

-Are you always this boring, Targaryen? - Y/n snorted, making one of the loose strands of hair fly out of her pretty face.

-This isn't boring, this is justice. - His eyes were still discreetly fixed on the subtle neckline of the gray blouse that Y/n was wearing, except that now she noticed it, feeling her stomach tingle with the idea that Aemond Targaryen was looking at her.

-Talking about justice and being a total pervert. - She slightly pressed her eyes to him while tightening her arms under her breasts, making them more prominent, making Aemond cough with a subtle choke, looking away.

-Mmmm, I wasn't looking at your breasts. - He grunted looking in another direction.

-Ah, you certainly were. - She arched her eyebrows laughing. - If you want to know, women always know when you're looking.

-What's that? A weird sixth sense? - Aemond raised his eyebrows in disbelief, still a little embarrassed for having been caught.

-Something like that. - Y/n shrugged with a slight grimace, but then an idea popped into her head making her subtly bite her lower lip, staring at him as she gathered her courage.

-How about we make a deal? - Y/n was still biting her lower lip without believing she was actually going to say that to him.

-What kind of deal? - Aemond tilted his forehead, confused but interested, while his eyes inadvertently fell once again on her breasts.

-I'll let you be a perv and look at my boobs, and you do my part in this stupid job. - She suggested, slowly poking the hem of her own thin blouse under the attentive gaze of Aemond, who felt his own mouth drying up.

-Mmmm. - He mocked her with an ironic smile. - No deal. This work is almost 30 pages long, I want to at least be able to touch them.

-What? - She narrowed her eyes slightly while arching her right eyebrow now, not believing what he was saying.

-That's right, and you'll be topless while i writing the work. It's that or nothing. - He smiled maliciously as he arched his eyebrows, waiting for her answer, being almost certain that she would give up on the idea.

-Gods, you're more perv than I thought. - She grumbled, staring at him with a frown as she tried to process the fact that Aemond Targaryen really had asked to touch her boobs.

-Do we have a deal? - Aemond asked, still with a dirty smile on his face, and Y/n rolled her eyes at him, mumbling something to herself, unable to call him an idiot since she had given him the idea.

-We have a deal. - She spoke firmly, feeling soft shivers down her thighs as she said this, making Aemond subtly widen his eyes in shock at her accepting. - But… I don't want to read a single sentence about this subject, I don't want to know about these idiot philosophers and much less about their silly theories.

-These aren't silly theories… - Aemond rolled his eyes condescendingly at the girl's lack of understanding on such an important subject, it almost affected the crush he had on her… almost.

-Ah. - She cut him off instantly. - I don't want to know. Deal?

-Deal. - He grimaced in slight disgust, if she weren't so hot it wouldn't be worth all the effort, Aemond thought rolling his eyes.

With a sigh Y/n pulled the gray blouse of thin fabric over her head leaving her bare breasts exposed to Aemond's hungry and raw gaze that made her skin crawl almost instantly.

The moment she took off her blouse, Aemond took away his previous thought. She was certainly worth the effort and he would definitely do a thousand jobs like that just to take a look at those breasts.

Feeling confident under his gaze Y/n sat on the two-seater sofa and once again crossed her arms under her now bare breasts while looking at him with one of her eyebrows raised.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond sat down next to her, staring at that beautiful pair of breasts that he could say for sure were the most beautiful he had ever laid eyes on in his life.

-Can I? - He reached out his hands to her breasts, but stopped just before touching them, wanting her to be one hundred percent sure of what she was doing. And when the girl nodded positively while biting her lower lip and subtly pressing her legs together, he touched his palms, feeling her soft breasts and almost moaning at the soft sensation.

Little by little he moved his hands while looking at her with a very serious look, and with the tips of his thin fingers he began to massage her erect nipples with increasing dedication, observing the responses her body gave him. Every soft tremor, every subtle gasp, every press and rub of her thighs against each other.

-They're perfect. - He praised softly as he stimulated them, eliciting a soft moan from Y/n who bent down even more offering her own breasts to Aemond.

She was lost in his touches, so gentle yet so demanding. No one had ever given her so much pleasure just by touching her breasts, and Y/n wanted to moan with pleasure but was holding herself back so as not to seem so given. She pressed her eyes tightly, feeling the shocks of pleasure running through her body and going straight down to her completely soaked pussy.

Suddenly, with her eyes still closed, Y/n felt Aemond's warm breath close to her skin, and opened her eyes at the same moment, looking at him.

-What are you doing? - She gasped, looking directly into that blue eye that had left her fascinated since the first time she saw it and that now looking so closely she thought it contained some violet reflections.

-I said I wanted to touch, you didn't specify just using of hands. - He murmured dirtyly, lowering his mouth over Y/n's breasts and sucking deeply on her excited nipple, which curved her back against the couch, finally moaning loudly in pure contentment.

-Oh Aemond please more. - She whimpered, writhing and pressing her thighs together. - So good... so good.

From that moment on, it was impossible for her to contain her own moans, his mouth felt so incredible against her already sensitive nipples. With each suction she trembled and tightened her thighs while gripping the sofa tightly, almost digging her nails into the upholstery.

-By the gods, you have the tastiest tits I've ever tasted in my life. - Aemond moaned between the hungry sucks and firm, desperate caresses, sending a new wave of pleasure over her as she heard those words. And without control over her own body, Y/n put her hands in Aemond's hair, tangling her fingers there and holding her head against herself as she moaned his name in despair.

Her pulling on his hair did something almost wild to Aemond, he usually didn't like it when people pulled his hair, but at that moment… Fuck, it really felt good. And when she started moaning his name in a completely lacking way while rubbing her pussy on the couch like a desperate bitch in heat, he felt himself on the edge.

While he sucked and licked her left nipple, caressing the right one with his hand, drawing waves and waves of pleasure from her, he guided his vacant hand inside the gray sweatpants he was wearing and finally paid attention to his cock, which was leaking and making a mess against the fabric of his boxers.

He violently fucked his cock against the left hand while still inside his pants while inevitably moaning against Y/n's nipple, making her rub even harder against the sofa.

-Aemond. - Came Y/n's broken voice in a moan that was almost a whimper as she shuddered without control over her own body, writhing on the couch, feeling the unbridled pleasure of the orgasm taking over her.

And hearing her beg for his name as she writhed in the midst of orgasm, Aemond reached his own peak of pleasure, spurting against his own hand in thick, strong jets, moaning with contentment against Y/n's sensitive, reddened nipples.

The two remained motionless for a few moments, just trying to regain their senses completely taken over by the debilitating pleasure. Y/n's mind went completely blank as she laid her head on the back of the sofa, still panting, completely shocked since she had never cum just by stimulating her nipples. And Aemond, in turn, tried to regain his composure with his head still buried between his classmate's delicious breasts.

And when he finally raised his head, he couldn't resist the temptation to suck her nipple once more, making her gasp with overstimulation.

-Oh, Aemond. - She sighed complainingly, lightly pushing his head away with the palm of her right hand. - They're sensitive.

-Mmmm. - He murmured caressing her naked waist. -I could suck your tits for hours if you let me.

-I could let you. - She gasped, pretending to be uncertain about the subject even though she was still sensitive to his touch, feeling the inside of her thighs tingling amid the scandalous moisture in her panties.

-Well, it's 30 pages. - He shrugged, moving his caresses up and down her waist. - And as far as I know, the pairs that Hayford assigned are until the end of the semester.

-We'll have plenty of time. - He kissed her nipple once more, making her sigh.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

❥ college/uni au - teaching assistant Geto Suguru x Reader

ft: philosophy Geto, mutual crush, office hrs // wc: 2k // [ao3]

Your TA was absurdly hot. It really shouldn’t be allowed.

You were embarrassingly down bad for Geto Suguru. Bad enough that you were pretending to be fascinated by philosophy, sitting at the front of the room for his study sessions as if you were a model student and not soaked just from the way his arm flexed as he wrote on the chalkboard.

He had apologized for his hoarse voice as he began today’s session, blaming seasonal allergies. Suguru was muffled in a fuzzy sweater, strong hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. You wished they were wrapped around you instead, holding you close, or holding you open…

“Everything okay?”

You flinched and snapped out of your daydream, blushing to the tips of your ears. “I-I’m sorry, I got distracted…”

He smiled reassuringly at you, achingly pretty with the wink of a dimple on his right cheek. “No problem, just checking!”

He paced around the room, answering questions and reading over essay drafts as he sipped his tea.

He leaned innocently over your shoulder to critique a few lines of your writing. The man smelled like vanilla and parchment, and a few strands of his soft hair brushed your cheek where they’d escaped from his bun.

Your stomach flipped, your blush back with a vengeance. You absorbed exactly none of what he was saying, but nodded anyway. “Of course, that makes sense.”

He stayed bent behind you for a few more seconds, enough for you to wonder if it was intentional and if your hair smelled nice too, and if he could stay there forever- “Okay great. Keep it up!”

He turned to address the whole room. “Great work today, everyone! I know you’ll be ready for the final on Friday. If you need anything, my office hours are tomorrow from four to six.”

———————

Your heart raced as you knocked. What were you doing? This was such a stupid idea, he’d never-

The office door swung open, and Geto stood blinking at you, his tired eyes framed by dark shadows. He was pale, a thick scarf now draped over the fluffy sweater. “Here for office hours, yeah?” His rasp had devolved into a croak.

“If you’re not feeling well, I can come back another time!”

He shook his head, waving you inside. “It's not contagious, just allergies kicking my ass…and finals aren’t going anywhere.”

You followed him into his office, taking in the sea of abandoned mugs and teetering stacks of books and papers. You steeled yourself to follow the plan, and pulled a thermos of soup out of your bag.

“This is for you.” You held out the thermos awkwardly. “Since you’re sick. It’s soup.”

He took the thermos you were brandishing, eyes crinkling over the edge of the scarf. “You got me soup?”

“Made you soup,” you clarified, rocking a little on your heels. “It’s just chicken noodle, something I always had when I was sick as a kid- it’s basically a cure-all.”

“You’re very kind.” He shook his head. “But if this is an attempt at a grading bribe, you know I can’t accept.”

Unable to read his expression from behind the scarf, you reassured him a little frantically, “Of course not! I didn’t even think of that. I just thought it might help you feel better…” You trailed off, realizing that your TA was laughing, his broad shoulders shaking.

“I’m kidding. But really, this is too kind.” He tilted his head, loosening the scarf a little to flash a grin. “Did you just come bearing soup, or are there philosophy questions to go with it?”

You shook your head, trying to recover from dazzle of his perfect smile. “Ah, not exactly…but I can think of some!”

Geto laughed again, and you wanted to listen to it forever. “Don’t worry, my brain is a bit stuffy at the moment anyways. Just makes your gesture all the more selfless.” He leaned forward with a soft smile. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” Anything to stay a little longer, you didn't say.

He was so graceful. Watching him make tea is like watching a dancer, or a master calligrapher- an act delicate and perfected. It didn't help that his long fingers curled around the mug so easily, his body heat still warming the ceramic when he passed it to you.

It tasted floral, a hint of smoke at the back of your throat. “Mmm, this is amazing.”

Geto stretched casually, pulling his scarf off fully to sip his own brew. "I'm glad." A quiet fell between the two of you, not altogether uncomfortable.

You wanted to say something brilliant, ask some profound question that would make him think of you as a kindred intellectual, and hopefully sexy to boot. What you came up with was, "Why philosophy?"

A faraway look settled on his face as he looked down, lost in thought. You hadn't expected him to take you so seriously. "I...used to have a lot of questions. Still do, but- I had more when I was younger, let's say." He was barely older than you, but you didn't dare laugh as he described himself that way. There was a weight on his shoulders as he spoke, drawn into himself.

"I've never been satisfied with the answers that I was given by authorities, or the structures that they operate in. How can you hope to change a system if you refuse to interrogate it, or to fix something without admitting it's broken?" His gentle voice had taken on a steely edge, eyes narrowed as he stared at the carpet. "I wanted to think for myself, to teach others to think for themselves- keep them from being taken advantage of."

He glanced up at you, quickly softened back into the charming TA you knew. "At least I hope that's what I'm doing now. That's 'why philosophy', I suppose." He leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees with a disarming smile.

You squirmed under his attention, suddenly embarrassed by how distracted you were during his study sessions. But you had been motivated to try harder, had spent a record number of hours in the library this semester. Concepts that put you to sleep when laboriously explained by the ancient professor came to life on Suguru's lips, and not just because you couldn't help staring at them, imagining how soft they'd be against yours...

"Everything okay?" It was becoming a frequent question with you, he noted to himself.

"Yes, of course," you said shakily. He wasn't convinced, became steadily less so as he crossed the room to you, leaning down with a hand on the couch behind your head.

"Are you sure? You're looking a bit flushed." He was being nice, was just showing concern for a student...and was far too close to your face. Deep brown, nearly violet eyes lingered too long on the way you bit your lip, struggling to regain composure.

"I'm fine. Just- moved by your answer, that's all." This time his answering smile wasn't just solicitous, it was hungry. He moved closer, enough that you could feel his warm breath on your cheek.

"That means a lot to me, you know. To have such a...passionate student."

You couldn't breathe. Had to be dreaming, couldn't possibly be feeling his warm palm on your cheek, his thumb hovering over your parted lips. You reached out, tried to pull him closer, but he smoothly laced his fingers with yours and pinned your hand beside your head.

"Office hours are almost over," he murmured into your neck, lips ghosting over your thrumming pulse. "Do you have any burning questions for me?" You felt his smirk against your skin, felt a brief flash of shame that he had seen through you so easily, could tell how badly you wanted him- but quickly forgot it in the heat of his body against yours.

A sigh fell from your mouth instead of the witty comeback you hoped for, and he laughed. This close, it felt like thunder in the hollow of your chest. With great effort, you caught your breath enough to whisper, "What do you taste like?"

"Hm?"

"That's my burning question. What do you-"

He cut you off with a searing kiss, slipped his tongue into your mouth to make sure you had your answer. He tasted like the tea, of course, but also cinnamon, and something sharp and harsh that sent sparks down your spine.

His hands were everywhere, roaming across your ribs, lifting your chin, pulling your body closer in a helpless gravity. Geto broke away with a gasp, his forehead pressed against yours. "I shouldn't be doing this, fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking-"

Your eyes met. "I know what I was thinking," you protested softly. "I know what I've been thinking since the moment I first saw you. After all," you mustered all your courage to run a hand through his hair, "you're in the year above me, aren't you? A teaching assistant, not the professor-"

He grinned, nudged his nose against your cheek. "Don't act like you don't enjoy being my student. I've seen you too, starry-eyed in the front row of my review sessions..." He was high off your embarrassed little protests, pushed his advantage.

“I thought about you so many times- imagined having you under the podium on your knees, sucking me off while I lectured…” You whimpered, clung to him as he whispered filth. “Bouncing in my lap while I graded papers..." He lightly kissed the corner of your mouth, achingly close to where you wanted him.

"You have no idea how hard it was to focus on my damn lessons with you right there in front of me. And then," he huffed a laugh. "and then here you are, coming to my office hours with homemade soup and looking so goddamn beautiful..."

"Suguru, kiss me again. Please, kiss me-"

Suguru kissed you. He kissed you like he was drowning, like you were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, awed and demanding in the same shared breath. He laid you down on the couch, caged you in with his strong body. His silky hair fell across your cheek, framed his sharp features like an inky halo.

His fingers trailed down your neck, to the buttons on your blouse- and a clock began to chime in the recesses of his office. He sat up with a curse. "I have a 6:30 class, I'm so sorry-" he flurried around his office, throwing papers and books into his backpack. "Damn it, my scarf-" You reached for it on the back of the couch and held it out to him with a shy smile.

"You're an angel, thank you." You glowed at the praise, though he was too preoccupied to notice. Geto shrugged into his jacket, tossed back the dregs of his cold tea, and smoothed his hair back into a neat bun. He was halfway to the door when he turned back to you with a crooked smile on his face.

"Can we...continue this another time? Please. I'd really like to."

You nodded, stood up to follow him out, heart still racing at everything that had just happened. "Your next office hours?"

He laughed and waved you ahead, holding the door. "I think I could find the time for some one-on-one tutoring." He locked his office, and you stood facing each other outside it for an awkward moment.

"Well." He looked down the hallway, then back at you. All you could think was that he looked like a painting, a sculpture- Suguru was somehow a work of art under the dingy fluorescent lights. He debated hugging you goodbye, shaking your hand, kissing you senseless, and settled on a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck on that exam." He was halfway gone already, long legs carrying him out of sight when he turned back with a wave and called, "and thank you for the soup!"

[okwonyo]

(1) 𝗂’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 ──── 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝒾𝗌𝗁 𖥔 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

seven

headcanons

why people ship the both of you together ( REVAMPING )

what people that ship you would post ( REVAMPING )

touches full of love ( REVAMPING )

falling in your arms

but not kiss

show you off

pretty hair clips, ruffled hair ⠀⠀

like in the movies

bed ( REVAMPING )

raise your lightstick

kitchen ( REVAMPING )

airport ( REVAMPING )

first date

with your younger sibling

spooky day ( REVAMPING )

where my love passed

heart-shaped mouth

acts of love

never let go of me

once bitten and twice shy

will you keep it secret ( REVAMPING )

older maknae line ( REVAMPING )

highshcool sweethearts maknae line

in your embrace maknae line

boyfriend hyungline ( REVAMPING )

heels huyngline ( REVAMPING )

enamored soul hyung line

hands hyung line

cold hands hyung line

i don't understand but i love you hyung line

princess treatment hyung line

reactions

reacting to fans interactions idol au

playing your love interest in a kdrama idol au

being your mc partner idol au

seeing you perform for the first time idol au

when you cry over a sentimental gift non-idol au

revceiving a peck while with the members idol au

when you refuse their kiss non-idol au

when you call them babe non-idol au

when you are crying non-idol au

when you are jealous non-idol au

you sleeping on another member's shoulder non-idol au

when they are sick non-idol au

when you are sensitive to loud noise non-idol au

when you post them to a tiktok trend non-idol au

introducing you to other members non-idol au

when you are sick non-idol au

when they are jealous non-idol au

when you are being pouty non-idol au

being pulled by the collar for a kiss non-idol au

waking you up non-idol au

under the mistletoe non-idol au

reacting to new piercing non-idol au

making grabby hands while in bed non-idol au

you not saying i love you back non-idol au

seeing you in their clothes non-idol au

being jumped on and not let up non-idol au

when you accidentally hurt yourself non-idol au

when you give yourself as a gift non-idol au

receiving flowers non-idol au

when you cry over a sentimental gift non-idol au

when you are a picky eater hyung line

series

my modern romance a boyfriend enhypen drabble series

events

bonbon fraise event

lee heeseung

first love thought

make up thought

bus stop drabble

cupid walks right through social media

stan twitter social media / series

stan twitter II social media / series

soft launch social media

park jongseong

brag about it thought ( REVAMPING )

naps thought

perfect thought

sugarcoated mouth drabble

i hope i reached you headcanon

hiding in plain sight social media

boyfriend texts social media

soft launch social media

sim jaeyun

angelic and dulcet thought

kiss under fireworks thought

how would he initiate cuddles drabble

super shy social media

soft launch social media

social media dump social media

you cheater social media

park sunghoon

kisses and pecks drabble

blooming flush drabble

ourobos, tragedies & fate drabble ( REVAMPING )

big flirt social media / series

kim seonwoo

morning kisses drabble

yang jungwon

capture the moment thought

photobooth drabble

philosophy of love headcanons

nishimura riki

study session drabble

gold rush drabble

riki as your boyfriend headcanons

tracking tag

[nanamis-baker]

The Bold Stroke

Chapter 2 | Whisper of the Petals

Pairing: philosophy student Geto x art student f!reader (College AU)

Summary: A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology… but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together.

Content: Fluff | slow burn | Light angst (I am not sure) | Mention of scars and accident | Mention of family issues | Reader falling for Geto | Geto being a gentleman but also a big big idiot.

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 10.2k

a/n: okayy it's here!! This chapter took me a while to write because writing conflicting emotions is something new for me lol.

But a big big bigg thank you to my girl @whereflowerswenttodie for reading and rereading it and helping me out with it!! 💙

← Prev. Chapter | Series mlist | Next Chapter →

“So, are you meeting up with someone?” you asked Inumaki as you fixed your hair a little, the elevator mirror being perfect for it. The two of you were going to the library. Well, you were going to the library, and Inumaki had some work on the same floor, so he accompanied you.

Inumaki nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as the lift opened with a ding. The two of you went separate ways, waving each other goodbye as you went into the library. But as soon as you entered, your legs halted. What you saw was… unexpected, to say at least.

The library had transformed into a bustling marketplace of stressed students. Every table, including yours and Suguru's usual spot, was now occupied by unfamiliar faces. The studious quiet you'd craved was replaced by murmured arguments, frantic typing, and the occasional frustrated groan. This wasn't exactly how you'd envisioned making the presentation format with Suguru.

You had texted him earlier about the presentation format, but there was no way you could get any work done in this chaos. What could you do now? And what other option did you have? You could go to the cafe but-

Just then, a warm hand settled gently on your shoulder. You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat, only to find Suguru standing there, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled, his voice soothing amidst the library's chaos. You shook your head, the disappointment momentarily forgotten.

"No worries," you managed, forcing a smile. "But seriously, what do we do now?" You gestured towards the library, the silent question hanging heavy in the air.

Suguru's smile faltered, replaced by a knowing frown that mirrored your frustration. "I kind of expected this," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Apparently, a bunch of students submitted the same assignment, thinking they could fool their teacher."

A flicker of surprise shot through you. "The same assignment? How did you…"

"Long story," Suguru interrupted with a wry smile. "Let's just say the rumour mill at this school is efficient." He paused, his gaze flickering around the library before landing back on you. "The good news is, I might have a backup plan."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A backup plan, huh?" The unexpected turn of events had certainly piqued your interest.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of mischief dancing in his dark eyes. "It is a Top secret," he declared, smiling to himself. "But trust me, it's worth it." He reached for your bag, gently relieving you of the weight. "Just promise me you won't breathe a word of it to anyone."

"Can't guarantee anything until I know where we're going," you teased, the disappointment at the ruined library session fading with each passing moment.

Suguru grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. He reached out and gently grasped your arm, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, the crowded library seemed miles away as Suguru led you on a detour.

The corridors twisted and turned, a confusing maze that would make recalling the route later impossible. You found yourself relying on Suguru's confident strides, a comfortable silence settling between you broken only by the rhythmic click of your shoes against the polished floor.

Finally, you arrived at a seemingly nondescript wall, the only hint of something unusual was a small, silver panel nestled discreetly within the plaster. Suguru pressed a button, and with a soft whirring sound, the elevator door slid open.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You had no idea this elevator even existed!

Suguru stepped inside, beckoning you to follow. It was a maintenance elevator, you realised. The cramped space barely accommodated the two of you comfortably, and the close proximity did little to deter you. He punched in a series of numbers on the keypad, and with a slight jerk, the elevator began its ascent.

"This elevator," you began, looking up at him, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. "How did you find it?"

Suguru chuckled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he looked down to meet your eyes. "Let's just say Satoru and I stumbled upon it during an… 'unforeseen circumstance'?" He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks at the memory. "Someone was rather displeased with us - him, actually - at the time. Finding this secret elevator was a happy accident." His gaze lingered on the keypad, “And figuring out the pin wasn’t difficult, especially when Satoru is with you,” He finished, smiling fondly at the memory. You found yourself smiling too.

The elevator came to a halt, the familiar ding echoing in your ear. With a sense of anticipation, you watched as the doors slid open, revealing a sight that took your breath away. No longer confined by the walls of the library, you found yourself standing on a rooftop terrace bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.

The sky stretched out before you like a canvas splashed with luminous hues of apricot and peach, with a hint of purple, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon. Below, the sprawling campus unfolded like a miniature world, with buildings and pathways etched in the golden light. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair and caressed your skin, carrying with it the scent of drying leaves, with a hint of muskiness.

For a moment, you were speechless, captivated by the unexpected beauty that lay before you. Turning to Suguru, you found a wide grin plastered across your face.

"So this is what you meant by 'Top Secret'?" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, nodding confirmation. "This place is a bit of a hidden gem."

His gaze swept over your face, searching for your reaction. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Like it, Geto?" you repeated, the question almost comical. "I absolutely love it!"

This secret terrace, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, felt worlds away from the unexpected chaos of the library. It was a private sanctuary, a place just for the two of you.

A satisfied smile spread across Suguru's face. "Good to know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He gestured towards a nearby bench, its weathered wood and faded brown paint promising a comfortable perch. "We should have plenty of light for some time now - enough to complete that presentation, at least."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, you readily took a seat on the bench. Suguru settled himself beside you, the air crackling with newfound energy. "Perfect!" you declared, clapping your hands together. "Then let's get started."

The sun, it seemed, had a favourite today. You sat beside Geto, bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon light, as it casted a golden halo around you. He found himself mesmerised, his gaze drawn to the way the light danced on your skin, turning it a canvas of shimmering bronze. Each flicker in your eyes held a spark more captivating than any gemstone, a tiny fire that seemed to ignite a warmth deep within him.

A golden aura surrounded you, and in Geto's eyes, you became the most exquisite treasure the world had to offer.

He struggled to focus. Every few moments, his gaze would snag on the way the sunlight danced in your eyes, igniting a flicker that stole his attention. Geto found himself mumbling a request for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly, you didn't seem annoyed, simply repeating your point with a gentle smile.

You intrigued him – a captivating puzzle he couldn't seem to solve. Your thoughts, a fascinating mix of unexpected angles and surprising echoes of his own, kept him constantly engaged. During discussions, you'd throw out a witty remark that had him stifling a laugh, a sharp observation that made him see the topic from a whole new perspective. He'd marvel at the way your mind effortlessly weaved humour and insightful analysis, a combination that felt refreshingly unique.

There was a depth to your intelligence that went beyond mere academic prowess. You possessed a genuine curiosity about the world, a thirst for knowledge that mirrored his own. He found himself drawn to your passion, the way your eyes would light up as you delved into a subject that truly interested you. It was as if you held a mirror to his soul, reflecting things he hadn't even realised were there.

The more he interacted with you, the more he realised how much he craved your presence. It wasn't just the conversations; there was a spark between you, an undeniable chemistry that left him both exhilarated and strangely vulnerable. He found himself wanting to impress you, to share his thoughts and ideas in the hopes of eliciting another one of those dazzling smiles.

"Okay!" you said, a triumphant smile lighting your face. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow on the terrace, painting the cityscape in hues of lavender and gold. "We are done now," you declared, gathering your things. You turned to him, and your smile was even brighter, “Suguru, I can’t thank you enough for your help with this - I couldn’t have done this without you” Gratitude and sincerity shone brightly in your eyes, but that wasn't what held his attention.

Suguru. You had called him by his first name. It was a simple gesture - you probably didn't even realise it - yet it resonated within him like a physical touch. The sound echoed in the twilight, a melody far sweeter than the chirping crickets. He craved to hear it more and more.

"You don't have to thank me again and again, you know?" he managed, his voice a touch rougher than usual. He cleared his throat, hoping to dispel the unexpected feelings that bloomed within him. "I enjoyed working on this project too," he added, hoping to convey his sincerity. It was true – it had all been stimulating for him. But a deeper truth lurked beneath. He enjoyed simply being near you - in your presence.

A pang of sadness, sharp and sudden, twisted in his gut. Here he was, enjoying the afterglow of a shared experience, yet a looming shadow threatened to engulf it. The project, the reason you were here with him, was done. When would be the next time the two of you see each other? Would you, like the last rays of the sun dipping below the horizon, simply slip away too?

The weight of his unspoken thoughts pressed down on Suguru as you walked towards the elevator. The last embers of the sun had faded, leaving the sky a canvas of deepening indigo. As he reached to press the button, blinding darkness swallowed the world whole, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

"What happened...?" He heard you murmur, a whisper lost in the sudden quiet. Suguru turned towards your voice, his eyes straining to adjust to the absence of light. He found you, a faint silhouette framed by the faint glow of the rising moon.

Concern flickered across him. He couldn't see you clearly, but he didn’t miss the slight tremor in your voice. He gently grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours, hoping to calm you.

Needing to confirm his suspicions, he took a tentative step towards the railing and peered over. Darkness. Not just the terrace, but the entire university grounds were shrouded in an inky blackness. The distant hum of activity that usually filled the evening air had been replaced by an unsettling silence.

"There seems to be a power cut in the area," he replied gently, his voice sounding hollow in the darkness. "But don't worry, we should have power back soon." He said, but for some reason, he had a hard time believing his own words.

"Can we use the stairs or something?" you asked, the slight tremor he had heard in your voice earlier was still there.

"Unfortunately, no," he sighed. "Satoru and I found it earlier, but they are blocked - inaccessible."

You didn't say anything, but Suguru heard a small, defeated 'Oh' escape your lips.

"But don’t worry, we can go and sit on the bench?" he offered, trying to shake away your worries. He could see the outline of the bench as his eyes had started to adjust to the darkness.

"Yeah, let's go," you agreed. As he guided you towards the familiar wooden seat, he felt your hand tighten around his, drawing his attention towards you.

Suddenly, you stopped, your voice tinged with awe. "Suguru, look up!"

He followed your gaze, tilting his head back. And then he saw it. The unexpected darkness had stripped away the veil of artificial light, revealing a breathtaking spectacle he hadn't even realised he'd been missing. A vast expanse of midnight blue stretched above them, a canvas sprinkled with a million shimmering diamonds. The stars. So many stars, each one a tiny beacon in the infinite darkness.

The darkness, once unsettling, now felt strangely beautiful. He stole a glance at you, your face bathed in the ethereal glow of the starlight, a look of wonder mirrored in your eyes. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing.

Not at all.

An unexpected idea sparked in Geto's mind. He gently released his hold on your hand and reached for his jacket. He knelt, spreading the garment on the cool ground, making sure it was properly spread out.

"Here," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up at you. He could see you better now, bathed in the faint moonlight, and a flicker of curiosity played across your features.

"What are you doing?" you asked, And Geto could hear the amusement in your voice.

"Come on," he said, extending out his hand, offering it to you in the dimness. "This way we can see the stars better, without straining your neck."

Understanding dawned on you, and a delighted smile spread on your lips, mirroring his own. Taking his hand, you allowed him to gently guide you down onto the makeshift blanket his jacket provided. A warmth spread through him as the two of you settled on the jacket, laying down side by side. Geto could feel the heat radiate from your body against his arm.

A comfortable silence descended, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of a cricket, a sound that seemed louder than usual in the quiet. Geto kept his hand intertwined with yours, the warmth of your skin a surprising comfort against his. His thumb, as if possessed by a will of its own, began tracing lazy circles on your palm.

Stealing glances at your face, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, Geto searched for any sign of unease, a flicker of disapproval that might suggest he had crossed a line. Thankfully, he found none.

"Suguru?" He heard you say, your voice, soft as the night breeze. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze in the dim moonlight.

"You know," you began, a playful glint dancing in your eyes, "you never really told me why you were nose-deep in all those business books in the library that day."

A surprised chuckle escaped Geto's lips, despite the topic you were referring to. "Yeah? And you never told me why you chose to drown yourself in the world of arts," he countered, his voice betraying a hint of the unease he felt.

You let out a laugh, the gentle sound echoing in the dark. "Well, you never really asked!"

"But I am asking now," he countered, amusement dancing in his voice.

"Okay, okay," you said with a grin. "Fair enough. First, you answer my question, and then I'll answer yours. Deal?"

Geto hesitated for a beat, the darkness both a shield and a prompt. So Geto had to offer a part of himself to get to know you better - sounds interesting "Deal," he finally agreed.

You looked up at him expectantly and taking a deep breath, he decided to be honest. "The thing is," he began, trying to hide the disgust he felt about this topic, "those business books weren't exactly what I wanted to be reading. You see, my family owns a pharmaceutical company, one of the biggest in the country."

"Oh wow," you said, a hint of surprise in your voice, “I didn’t know that.”

"Yeah," he said, a humourless scoff escaping his lips. "They expect me to join the business after graduation. Here's the real thing though," he continued, feeling his voice drop low, "They see me as a puppet, someone to inherit their greed and continue their ruthless practices."

"What kind of practices?" he heard you ask, concern flickering in your voice.

He felt his jaw clench slightly, the darkness a welcome shroud for the anger simmering within him. "They price their life-saving drugs at exorbitant rates," he spat, the venom of his words sour on his tongue. "People who desperately need them can't afford them, all because of my family's insatiable thirst for profit. It goes against everything I believe in."

A heavy silence descended. He stole a glance at you, unsure how you'd react. But your expression was open, devoid of judgement, and held a flicker of understanding. It was an unspoken invitation to continue, a safe harbour for the storm of emotions brewing within him.

"They wouldn't listen to reason," he continued, his voice low and defeated. "I've tried, believe me. But logic and compassion seem to be foreign concepts in their world." But still, Geto had to do something right? "Maybe, just maybe, by learning their game, I can break this system and change it from within. But honestly," he admitted with a bitter laugh, "I don't even know if that's possible. Their control is absolute."

The darkness seemed to press in on him, a reflection of the despair that threatened to consume him. He yearned for a way out, a way to break free from the gilded cage his family had built for him.

Your hands squeezed his, bringing him back to the present. "That's a lot to carry," you finally said, your voice soft but firm. "The anger, the frustration, the feeling of helplessness." You paused, letting your words sink in. "But Suguru," you continued, your voice gaining strength, "don't let them steal your compassion, your beliefs. As long as you hold onto them, you’ll find a way. I know you will”

Geto smiled. You were so sweet, so kind, trying to comfort him. It was a small, tired smile, the kind that held the weight of the world but acknowledged a sliver of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Your words, laced with a quiet strength, resonated deep within him. It was true. He couldn't let their greed and corruption taint the core of who he was. But, at the same time, he knew it wasn't wise to hope for much when it came to his parents. Still, he wouldn't burden you anymore with his issue. Maybe a lighter topic would chase away the shadows that had crept into the conversation.

"You're right," he said, his voice regaining a touch of its earlier playfulness. "Now, answer my question from earlier." He raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness, hoping to lighten the mood.

He saw you smile, but it wasn't your usual, happy smile. A faint shadow flickered across your features, a subtle shift in your demeanour that sent a wave of unease through him. "I was in a car accident a few years ago - both my mom and I," you said, your voice softer than usual, your fingers twisting a loose thread on your shirt.

The playfulness drained from his face. An accident? The image of mangled metal and shattered glass flashed unbidden in his mind. "Oh," he stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Another car crashed into ours," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "The driver was drunk. Thankfully, the major impact was on my side, so my mom wasn't hurt too bad."

This wasn't what Geto was expecting to hear. He watched as you reached for your phone, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest. With slightly trembling fingers, you lifted the hem of your jeans, the phone's cool flashlight revealing a constellation of scars that snaked across your calves. Geto's mouth went dry.

You turned towards him, a flicker of vulnerability in your eyes. Hesitantly, you reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, revealing a faint scar that traced a jagged line along your hairline and the back of your neck. The moonlight glinted off the raised, pale flesh, a contrast to the smooth skin surrounding it.

Geto thought he had memorised the expanse of your face, every little detail like the map of a cherished land. But god, was he wrong. He had missed such a big part of you.

Shame washed over him in a sickening wave. He'd been so caught up in his own problems, that he hadn't noticed the silent stories etched across your body. His fingers moved to trace the scar, to feel it under his fingertips, but retracted his hand before it could reach you.

You continued, your voice quiet, "I was bedridden for months, Suguru. I couldn't even speak because a shard of glass had damaged my vocal cords. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to survive, but I did." You let out a humourless chuckle. "I could barely move, I couldn't speak at all, and the frustration – I can't even begin to tell you." You shook your head slightly, a ghost of the ordeal lingering in your eyes.

"My parents were worried, you know, and that's when I started painting," you continued. A small, bittersweet smile touched your lips. "It was horrible at first, of course," you added with a self-deprecating laugh, "but with time, I got better. It became my voice, a way to express the things I couldn't say. Even after I healed, I kept up with it. I wanted to know more – about other people's work, their thought processes, and why they painted what they painted. And so, I chose art as my major." You finished with a shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal or anything.

Geto didn't really know what to say. Words felt hollow compared to the weight of your story. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it. He mentally face-palmed himself. Really? That was the best he could offer? It sounded insensitive, trivial even, in the face of what you'd been through.

You offered a small, understanding smile. "Sometimes," you admitted. "Not the scars themselves, thankfully. But half of my body is metal now, thanks to the accident. That gets achy sometimes, especially when the weather gets cold." As if on cue, a cool wind rustled through the leaves, and Geto saw the way you flinched so slightly, a shiver running down your body.

Geto's heart lurched. He cursed himself for his obliviousness. Here he was complaining about his family, while you carried the physical and emotional weight of a traumatic experience. Without thinking, he shifted closer, offering you the meagre comfort of his body heat. "Here, let me shield you from the wind a bit."

A warm smile graced your lips as you leaned into him slightly, accepting his support - accepting him. The gesture ignited a spark within Geto, a warmth blossoming in his chest that rivalled the one he offered.

Geto's fingers, which had hovered awkwardly in his lap, found themselves drawn to you again. This time though, they didn't hesitate. With tenderness, they brushed against the cool expanse of the scar on your temple, then trailed down to the faint jagged line along your neck. Your skin felt cold under his warm touch.

You inhaled sharply, your breath catching against his chest. Geto's touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were tracing a sacred map. He met your gaze, the moonlight and stars reflecting in your eyes like a million scattered diamonds. At that moment, it felt like he was peering into a whole new universe, one filled with unspoken stories and hidden depths. A universe he desperately wanted to explore, to get lost in, and maybe, just maybe, find a way back to, together.

His thumb grazed the soft skin of your jaw, a gentle nudge that tilted your face up a fraction. He wanted to see everything, to re-learn every detail etched on your face, the scars, the way the moonlight glinted off the moisture gathering in your eyes. He wanted to learn all your secrets, or at least the ones you were willing to share.

You responded instinctively, leaning in further until the space between you evaporated. Your warm breath mingled with his, a silent question hanging in the air. The stars seemed to wink in approval as the distance between your faces continued to shrink. Anticipation flickered in your darkened eyes, which then fluttered shut as Geto leaned in even closer. Slowly, the space between his lips and yours became nonexistent, a mere breath away.

Just as your lips were about to meet in a brush, The world erupted in a harsh burst of fluorescent light. Both of you jolted back, blinking away the temporary blindness.

It took Geto a moment to realise what had happened. He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the sudden quiet. "We got the power back," he mumbled, his voice thick with the unspoken desire that hung heavy in the air moments ago. His gaze darted away from you for a moment, then returned, searching your eyes for any indication of how you felt about the interrupted moment.

He took in your flushed cheek and your dilated, glossy eyes. That was all the indication he needed. A small, frustrated sigh escaped your lips. "Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment, the intimacy between the two of you, was shattered like a dropped glass, leaving behind a thousand shimmering shards of unspoken desire.

The silence stretched, heavy with what could have been. Geto watched as you began gathering your things, a subtle shift in your demeanour that spoke volumes. You turned to face him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the lingering frustration in your eyes. "We should go now, it's getting colder."

He nodded in agreement, his voice thick when he finally spoke. "Yeah, definitely." He grabbed his jacket and dusted it off, the simple action taking longer than necessary. He watched as you reached for your bag, then blurted out, "Here, let me get that," as he grabbed the bag, relieving you of the weight. It was the least he could do, anyway.

Geto had spent hours with you today, yet it felt like mere moments. "Let me walk you home, please," the words tumbled out before he could stop them, fueled by a desire to prolong this stolen time, this unexpected intimacy.

He held his breath, bracing himself for a polite refusal. But then, a bright smile bloomed on your face, a smile that lit up the terrace brighter than the harsh fluorescent lights that had shattered their moment. "Thank you, Suguru," you said, your voice soft but filled with a warmth that sent a thrill through him. "I'd like that."

“Okay, so what happened next? Did you invite him up?” Maki leaned forward, her eyes eager. She glanced at Yuta, who was also listening intently.

Your friends—minus Inumaki—were gathered at the campus café for a small celebration. You’d just received an A+ on your presentation, and of course, you had to share how Suguru's help had played a crucial role. The moment you mentioned his name, their ears visibly perked up.

It had been two weeks since that night on the rooftop, two agonisingly silent weeks. You and Suguru had barely exchanged any texts, and you hadn’t even seen him around campus.

A blush crept up your cheeks as you shook your head. “Of course not! It was just something we felt in the moment. I don’t think inviting him up would have been a wise decision.” You took a sip of your iced tea, the coolness soothing the flutter in your stomach. Every time you replayed the scene in your head, your heart skipped a little. But the silence that followed since then was deafening.

“It doesn’t sound like ‘something in the moment,’ especially with the way you described everything.” Yuta pointed out. One might think he wouldn’t be interested in such stuff, but when it came to his friends, Yuta was always supportive.

"Maybe," you admitted, the word tumbling out before you could stop it. The truth was, the interrupted kiss felt less like a missed opportunity and more like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. But what if you were reading too much into it? The thought sent a pang of disappointment through you, a feeling you quickly brushed aside.

Maki scoffed playfully. "Girl, you were practically glowing when you talked about him! And no one does what he did just to be friendly, you know."

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Maybe Maki was right. Maybe there was something between you and Suguru. A tiny flicker of hope ignited within you, but it was quickly washed away by a wave of uncertainty. Here you were, falling for him, yet his silence indicated that he probably regretted things—didn’t want it. But then the gentle look in his eyes, his silent support, and the way he held you oh so tenderly, shielding you from the cold...

Ugh, it was all so confusing. "But what if—"

Yuta cut you off with a gentle laugh. "Hey, you never know until you try, right? And besides, even if things don’t work out romantically, you made a great new friend. Win-win, I'd say."

You couldn’t help but smile at your friend’s statement. Yuta always knew how to see the bright side. Taking a deep breath, you decided to focus on the positive. Suguru was interesting, kind, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You could confide in him as a friend. But the way his touch comforted you, ignited you...well, that was definitely more than friendly.

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, a newfound determination settling in your voice despite the nervousness you felt. "Maybe I'll just...see where things go."

Admitting it out loud felt a lot easier. "I like him, you know," you said, looking at your friends with a small smile. "He’s someone who seems to be interested in something that’s not superficial—like he wants to know me, understand me. And it just seems so rare for someone to be genuinely interested in you, right?"

Your friends looked at you with knowing smiles, a silent encouragement hanging in the air. It was probably more than just liking him, you knew. But admitting it out loud, even with just a hint of the deeper feelings swirling within you, felt like a huge step.

The art exhibition buzzed with a quiet energy. The gentle notes of classical music filled your ears, punctuated by the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses from the nearby champagne bar. 

You stood mesmerised in front of a large, abstract piece. It was a puzzle, quiet literally. Fractured squares of vibrant colours and captivating strokes hung on the stark white wall, making an incomplete puzzle, while its other pieces were scattered chaotically on the floor below. The missing pieces created a gaping emptiness in the artwork, a void that tugged at your emotions.

Was it a metaphor for loss  - longing? a commentary on the incompleteness of experiences? You longed to discuss it with Yuta. He'd always loved puzzles; his apartment was filled with framed pieces of puzzles he had solved so far. His mind was a kaleidoscope of unconventional interpretations, making you look at things with a different perspective.

A pang of guilt lanced through you. You were supposed to visit this exhibition with your friends, but Maki wasn't feeling well. Yet, here you were, lost in the beauty of the artwork displayed. Although Yuta had assured you he was taking care of her, telling you to not miss this exhibition, a part of you still yearned to be by your friend's side.

“Intriguing, is it?” A voice interrupted your thought. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The voice, once a source of comfort and playful teasing, now startled you. It was him, the man who had vanished after nearly kissing you under the twinkling stars, leaving you with nothing but lingering confusion and a heart full of unanswered questions.

And now, after almost two months, he was here, asking you this bloody question.

Suguru Geto.

Well, if he wants to play it this way, you can entertain him. After all, two can play this game. "It is," you began, your eyes finally meeting his. "But I'm trying to figure out what the artist is trying to show here."

Geto hummed thoughtfully. "You know what I think?" He paused. Was he expecting a response from you? Well, he wasn’t getting any. You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the artwork.

Undeterred, he continued, his voice taking on a philosophical tone. "This artwork seems to be a metaphor for life. Life throws pieces at you, like the ones scattered on the floor. It's all you need to make your life meaningful and beautiful. Opportunities, people, love..." he trailed off, the last word hanging in the air unspoken.

His gaze shifted back to the painting, his voice softer now. "But it's up to you how you make use of those pieces, to put in the effort to fit them together. If you're not careful, if you wait too long..." He paused again, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to regret and longing passing through them. "The pieces might be lost to you forever."

You sucked in a breath. No, he couldn’t mean what you were thinking. After all, the only conversation the two of you had after hanging out on the terrace was when you told him about your assignment and the grade you scored.

Yes, you had texted him a couple of times after that, but the reply seemed…dry. So, you stopped, hoping Geto would reach out to you when he was ready, but the man beside you never bothered to do anything about it.

But your mind replayed the memory of how he held you that night, a tender embrace that spoke volumes without words. It was a gesture that made you feel cherished, as if you were his most prized possession, far above any material wealth the world could offer. And when you shared the news of your accident, his reaction was unexpected - a mixture of regret and concern, as though he wished he had been there for you, even though he didn't even know you at the time.

No.

You couldn’t allow yourself to go there again.

Not if he wouldn’t follow you, keeping up with you.

Your mind buzzed with Geto’s words, his interpretation of the art piece lingering in your thoughts like an unshakable presence. Was he a piece that life had flung your way, meant to enhance the beauty of your existence? Or did he hold some other significance, perhaps serving as a lesson - a piece that doesn’t enhance the beauty of the puzzle, but serves as a guiding force for other pieces? Was he a fleeting moment of joy, destined to fade into memory like the strokes of paint on a canvas? Or was he a constant, a steady presence meant to shape your journey, to teach you lessons you had yet to grasp?

Stop.

You wouldn’t allow yourself to go there. Not again and again.

This man almost kissed you after you told him one of the deepest truths about yourself, and then disappeared, leaving you alone to deal with the darkness so similar to the inky blackness of that night. But this time, even the stars weren’t there to keep you company.

Leaving the painting behind, you moved towards a different section of the exhibition. Here, the air shimmered with vibrant light. Holographic projections of the paintings danced around you, painting your surroundings with the artist's colourful strokes. These ethereal brushstrokes, magnified and swirling, seemed to come alive, transforming the space into a kaleidoscope of the artist's imagination. 

However, the original artworks remained untouched. Hung on the wall next to their holographic counterparts, they offered a more tangible connection to the artist's hand, allowing you to study the physical texture of the canvas, the subtle nuances of the brushstrokes, and the deliberate choices of colour.

The projections painted your off-white dress in different colours, the fabric a soft caress against the skin of your calves as you walked from one painting to another.

Geto followed you closely behind as you navigated through the section, his silence a palpable presence behind your back. You felt his gaze track your movements, but you paid it no mind, completely enthralled by the painting before you.

It was a complete mess. It was a riot of colour, a whirlwind of strokes, a storm of emotions, yet it held you captive. The longer you stared, the more it seemed to transform, the chaos morphing and shifting before your very eyes. What initially appeared as a meaningless jumble began to hold meaning, revealing a hidden order within the frenzy. The chaos formed a structure - The structure within the chaos.

It was almost as if the holograms mirrored your feelings - Confusing, chaotic, shifting.

Lost in the painting's mesmerising chaos, you barely registered Geto's approach. He stood so close behind you that the warmth of his body radiated through your clothes, his upper arm brushing against your shoulder. His voice, soft and low, shattered the silence.

"What are you doing at this exhibition?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Turning around to face him, you finally took him in. Dressed in a brown turtleneck that mirrored the depths of his eyes, his attire accentuated their warm, inviting hue. He wore a casual blazer on top of it, the colour slightly lighter than the colour of his turtleneck. His raven hair, noticeably longer, was tied back in a simple half-bun, the remaining strands cascading down his shoulders. The change, subtle yet noticeable, added a touch of softness to his features.

But what stood out the most were the circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his face. Even as the holograms danced all over his face, they did nothing to conceal his worn-out state; they almost amplified it.

A pang of concern flickered in your chest, a fleeting thought about his well-being. However, you quickly pushed it aside. Geto was the one who decided not to keep in touch anymore, so now it wasn’t your job to be concerned.

But of course, it wasn’t easy to just get rid of your feelings for someone like they never existed, was it?

"This is an art exhibition, open to all," you finally answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "and in case you forgot, I am an art student, Geto." Your voice was filled with sarcasm, and Geto chuckled. You smiled sweetly at him as you asked, "What about you?"

"Well," he began, his voice laced with a playful drawl, "as someone just said, this is an art exhibition, open to all." He shrugged, smirking. You gave him one final, unamused look before your eyes turned back to the painting.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and the lingering warmth of Geto's presence. Finally, he spoke, "What do you find so captivating about this painting?"

His voice, a soft melody laced with genuine wonder, resonated with a yearning that transcended mere curiosity. It was as if you held the key to answering the storm of questions swirling within him, your insights holding a weight far greater than anything else. A hunger to delve deeper, to peel back the layers of your being until he could see the very essence of you, consumed him.

A ghost of a smile danced on your lips. How could you deny the man who held such profound significance in your heart, the man who yearned to truly know you, to unravel your soul until there was nothing left to be discovered?

No, of course you couldn’t keep away, no matter how hard you tried.

Finally, you answered him. If he wanted a piece of your mind, you would gladly offer it to him. "For me, it’s those golden strokes," you began, "It was definitely a risky move for the painter. Those strokes could have ruined the painting, but it didn't. Instead, it made this painting what we see."

Geto hummed, "So, you feel like that stroke was a bold move for the painter?"

You nodded your head in response. Geto continued, "But what if that stroke ruined the painting?"

A slight smile played on your lips. "Well, then the painter would have learned something important. They'd know they could create the painting again if they wanted to, and that's a power in itself. They'd know they have the skill and the confidence to reach that level of greatness again." You looked him in the eye, your gaze pinning him, "Even if the stroke ended up ruining the painting, the artist could always put in the effort of making it again, and that in itself is a form of victory. They wouldn't be afraid to take that bold step again and again, till the painter gets what they want from the painting."

Geto's gaze drifted away for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words. It was as if he was engaged in an internal debate, weighing the implications of your statement against his own judgement.

“I wish I could look into your mind.” He finally said, his eyes slightly wide in wonder.

But oh Suguru, little did he know, he has been settled there since the two of you met in the cafe.

A soft buzz from Geto’s phone brought you out of your thoughts, making you realise how quiet it was around you. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a message. As you watched him, the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and met your gaze. "It was good seeing you again," he said. Were you overthinking, or was his voice a touch more formal than before? "I have to go now. Enjoy the exhibition."

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried, leaving you standing there with a lingering feeling of unease. You hadn't had a chance to say goodbye, and the abruptness of his departure left you wondering about your interaction with Geto.

Soon, you were done with the exhibition, the vibrant colours of the holograms still dancing behind your eyelids. Your mind buzzed with inspiration, the beauty of the paintings displayed sparking a flurry of ideas in your head.

The puzzle painting seemed to mock you as you passed it one last time, the question echoing in your mind: where did Geto fit in your life? What piece of the puzzle was he?

Exiting the building, you descended the stairs, the chill in the winter air making you shiver despite your sweater. As you reached the bottom, your steps slowed, coming to a halt. There was Geto, standing by the entrance. But he wasn't alone. He held a woman close, his arms wrapped tightly around her like he never wanted to let go. Her head rested against his chest, and his eyes were closed, almost nestled against her shoulder. The intimacy of their embrace was undeniable, a silent language of comfort and connection that spoke volumes.

Despite the prickling suspicion in your chest, you knew better than to jump to conclusions. This wasn't your place to pry. Yet, the image of their closeness branded itself into your brain, a searing feeling that left your heart burning.

"Well, don't you two look cute," a voice boomed. You looked up to see a man with white hair and sunglasses approaching them, a wide grin plastered on his face.

Gojo Satoru - the name echoed in your mind - Geto's best friend.

You watched as Geto and the woman pulled away, the woman playfully swatting Gojo's arm. But it wasn't the playful interaction that held your attention. Even from a distance, you could see the lingering longing in Geto's eyes as he looked at her.

It hit you like a punch to the gut. This was what he'd been preoccupied with. This is why he had kept you in the dark. This all felt like a cruel joke, life playing a twisted game on you. Of course he had a girlfriend - a guy like him probably had women lining up around the block.

You shook your head, a humourless chuckle escaping your lips as you made your way down the remaining stairs. Yeah, it was pretty obvious what kind of piece Geto was. A missing piece, a piece that belonged to someone else's puzzle, not yours.

You stood outside maki’s wooden front door, finger hovering over the buzzer.  But, before you could ring, the door swung open, its hinges creaking slightly as familiar black, tousled hair came into the view.

Yuta lifted his head, momentarily startled to see someone standing right outside the door, before his eyes met yours. A small smile graced his lips. You took note of the black duffle bag hanging on his shoulder.

You returned his smile, “Leaving now?” you asked him, watching as a small blush crept up his cheek. “Yeah, Maki is feeling better now, so I figured I should go home.” He answered, relief clouding in his eyes before his expression turned curious, “Oh, how was the exhibition yesterday? Again, I am so sorry we couldn’t make it.”

You shook your head, dismissing his apology. “No need to apologise, Yuta.” Despite the events of last night, you found yourself smiling. After all, you saw some works by your favourite artists. You cannot let a man - no matter how much he meant to you - ruin something that you have been looking forward to so eagerly.

“The exhibition was great, Yuta,” You said, as you told him about the puzzle artwork. “I really missed you guys there, you would have loved it too.” You finished, hoping to convey your sincerity with your words. 

Yuta’s eyes lit up and his smile widened, “That sounds amazing! I hope next time all of us can go” He said, before gesturing towards his bag, “Anyways, I gotta go now - Maki’s in her room, by the way.” With a final wave, he moved towards the front door, the door shutting behind him as he left Maki’s apartment.

You made your way towards her room, the minty smell of ointment filling your nose. You found Maki sitting on her bed with a small crochet blanket draped over her legs. The vibrant colours of the blanket reminded you of summer. 

Maki looked up when you approached, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she rolled her eyes, inviting you to sit on the bed. “I knew I would see your face today.” she said, causing you to smile. Her voice today was a far cry from the shaky, tired voice she had yesterday.

Yeah, Yuta was right, Maki was definitely feeling better.

You also noticed that some colour has returned to her face, and Maki looked better now than she did at college, and this observation somehow soothed and comforted you. You enquired about her well-being and got to know that Maki had a cold and fever, but thanks to Yuta’s support, she was feeling far better. 

Oh, Speaking of Yuta…

“So Yuta stayed the night, huh?” You finally asked, an eyebrow raised and a smirk gracing your lips. 

Maki rolled her eyes again but she didn’t shy away from the topic. You watched as the top of her cheeks turned slightly pink. It was a rare sight, something you found so cute. Both Yuta and Maki had a similar reaction to a similar situation.

“Yeah, he was just making sure the fever doesn't get worse or anything,” she said, a small smile on her lips as if she was recalling last night. “He was really sweet about it, actually.” She said it as if she just realised it too.

You smiled for your friends, “So, do you want something with him?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Maki’s expression turned thoughtful, though a hint of playfulness remained, “I do like him,” She admitted. There was no hesitancy in her voice. “But I don’t want to force things with him or anything. Just go with the flow, you know?” She met your eyes as she said, “Besides, he is a great friend - that matters above everything else.” 

You admired Maki’s clarity. She knew what she wanted. 

Nodding your head in response, you reached out to squeeze Maki's hand. But just then Maki let out a small cough. You quickly reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and handed it to her, "Here, take a sip of this."

After a few sips, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Alright," she said, her voice slightly raspy, "enough about me. Tell me what’s going on between you and that Geto guy?" Her gaze, even dimmed by illness, held its usual unwavering intensity. It burrowed into yours, leaving no room for secrets. “And don’t lie, I can tell something is bothering you.”

Your heart sank at the mention of Geto's name, the emotions from last night bubbling back to the surface. You avoided them, though. "I think he's seeing someone else," you admitted with a bitter chuckle.

Maki's frown mirrored your own confusion. "But from what you told me…?"

"Yeah, I know," you sighed, your voice heavy with resignation. "But then again, we didn’t speak for two months. I don’t really blame him for pursuing someone else."

But the ache in your chest refused to dissipate, stubbornly clinging to the remnants of hope you had tried to bury.

You recounted the events of the exhibition, the cryptic nature of Suguru's words, and the sight of him with another woman. Maki listened attentively, her unwavering gaze conveying understanding as you poured your heart out to her.

Maki sighed, her disappointment evident in the furrow of her brow. “The woman you are talking about,” she began, her tone tinged with frustration, “I think I saw her and Geto at a cafe - the description sounds the same. But I didn’t think much of it because I just assumed they were friends or something.” Another sigh escaped her lips, laden with exasperation. “But from what you're saying… man, that guy is so clueless!”

"Now, there’s no point in that anyway," you murmured, your shoulders slumping as you shook your head. "I’m just disappointed because I thought we had something, but I guess I just misunderstood things."

Maki's eyes flashed with indignation. “I saw the way he looked at you in the cafeteria - like a teenage boy looking at his first crush. It was so sweet it was almost disgusting,” she said, her nose scrunching up slightly. “So no, you did not misunderstand things. That guy turned out to be an asshole.”

Maki reached out and squeezed your hand, a gesture so unexpected from her that it caught you off guard. “You deserve better than someone who doesn’t know what he wants.” Her gaze was intense, taking in your slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “You know what?” she began, determination clear in her voice. “Give me your phone.”

“You are not texting him,” you said sternly, though you unlocked your phone and handed it to her anyway.

“Of course not,” she replied with a humourless chuckle. “He isn’t worth my time.” You rolled your eyes at her statement, but the corners of your lips twitched upwards, feeling a bit of the weight lifting off your shoulders.

You peeked over your phone, curiosity getting the better of you. Maki was busy downloading - “A dating app?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Maki nodded in response, her fingers flying over the screen as she added a description and prompts to your profile. “But Maki, I don’t want to date someone just like that,” you protested.

“You deserve to meet someone new and exciting. It doesn’t have to be serious,” Maki replied, her voice firm but caring.

You had never used dating apps before, so you felt hesitant to try it out. The idea of swiping left and right felt strange, almost impersonal. But another part of you was curious to see how things would turn out. After all, college was ending soon, you had barely dated anyone until now, and then the thing with Geto...

Maki looked up from the phone, her expression softening slightly. “I know it feels weird, but sometimes you need to step out of your comfort zone. Just give it a try. If you don’t like it, you can always delete it.” She angled the phone towards you, the dating app now downloaded and ready to go. “Think of it as an adventure. You never know what might happen.”

Maki began swiping for you, her eyes occasionally flicking up to check your reaction. One particular profile caught your eye. “Wait!” you stopped her just as she was about to remove the profile.

“What? Him? Really?” Maki asked, her nose scrunching up in mild disgust.

“Hey, he looks good, okay? But that’s not the point,” you said, leaning in to get a better look. The picture of a familiar white-haired man stared back at you. “That’s Geto’s best friend, Gojo.” You told her, swiping down on the profile to see more.

You came across a picture of him and Geto, seemingly from a beach trip. Both of them were wearing floral shirts and sporting big grins. The sight of them together stirred a mix of emotions within you. The carefree happiness on Geto's face contrasted sharply with the confusion and heartache you felt.

The text with the picture read:

Yeah, that’s my best friend, but you won’t find him here. His heart is already taken, but mine isn’t ;)

You shook your head, ignoring the icy feeling that crawled up your veins; a feeling that didn’t have anything to do with the cold, biting wind outside. After a few more swipes, you got some matches. Maki took over, texting them on your behalf.

“‘Are you free tomorrow?’” Maki read the text from one of your matches out loud. Yeah, you were free, but was it wise to go out with someone you barely knew? As if sensing your hesitation, Maki said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think you should.” Then, she added, “It might help you deal with your feelings for Geto.” You noticed a hint of bitterness when she said his name, as if it left a sour taste in her mouth.

You bit your lip, considering her words. Maki has always been your rock, her advice helping you through the toughest situations. Finally making up your mind, you said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll go out with him - see how it is.” Then, with a teasing tone you said, your voice light, “But I am going only for you.”

Maki smiled at you, her expression lightening. “Great! I’ll text him then.” Her tone turned serious. “But keep texting me, okay? He seems okay, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be worried about you.”

You smiled at your friend’s protectiveness. “Yeah, I will Maki, don’t worry about it.”

A small part of you felt like this was wrong, especially since there was no communication between you and Geto to clear things up. But he had started dating someone else, hadn’t he? His heart was already taken, wasn’t it? So did it matter what you felt for him? Clearly, it didn’t mean anything to him, so the sooner you got over it, the better it would be for you.

The sudden crack of lightning jolted you, sending a streak of black liquid across your eyelid just as you were applying your eyeliner. A muted curse escaped your lips as you grabbed a makeup wipe, determined to fix the line. But the damage was done – a dark smudge now decorated your under-eye. With a sigh, you opted for a clean look, wiping away the eyeliner completely.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a low rumble of thunder. Your brow furrowed as you pulled on your clothes for the date. Winter rain was a rarity, but the damp air and earthy scent were unmistakable signs of a downpour.

You had to hurry now. Getting caught in a winter rain shower was the last thing you wanted, especially with your already achy legs. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that you were looking presentable. Despite the eyeliner disaster, you felt satisfied with your hair and makeup.

You made your way towards the restaurant, taking the subway. As you emerged from the station, the warm, stale air was replaced by a blast of icy wind that stole your breath. It was raining now, but thankfully it was misty; the droplets of water barely felt like anything. The rain clung around your face, blurring the city lights into shimmering halos. The rhythmic rumble of the train faded behind you, replaced by the traffic honks and the murmur of people walking around.

Your legs felt like lead as you trudged towards the restaurant. You'd chosen a cosy Italian place that was a little far from your apartment. Your date had insisted on a ‘middle point’ since he lived far away from your place, and you couldn’t protest.

Doubt gnawed at you. Was this the right way to get over Geto? The memory of his supportive glances and gentle laugh sent a pang through your chest. This date with someone you barely knew, suddenly felt like a flimsy shield against a tidal wave of longing. Yes, you and your date had exchanged some text, but could you really judge a person just through texts? But cancelling now felt like a betrayal – you couldn’t bring yourself to leave someone hanging like that while they waited for you.

With that in mind, you pushed open the glass doors of the restaurant. The smell of molten cheese and basil greeting you, followed by the gentle clink of glasses and happy murmurs. The whole place was bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights. 

Once inside, you navigated through the crowded space until you spotted a familiar-looking face. Your date's blond hair was combed neatly, but there was something different about his hair compared to the pictures you saw. Still, you paid it no mind as you made your way to the table.

As you reached the table, you noticed an almost empty lowball glass that sat in front of him. It had a single ice cube clinging to the bottom of what appeared to be bourbon, given by its amber colour. Before you could dwell on the obvious red flag, dark hazel eyes met yours.

You forced out a smile. “Hey, you must be –”

The words died on your lips as he cut you off, his voice clipped. "You're late."

Huh?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Looking forward to your feedback 🌷

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I know things take a turn here, and even I wasn't expecting this to happen but it just happened, to the point I had to change the storyline lol

@whereflowerswenttodie @celestie0 @lostfracturess @nakariabnrb @yungbloode

@peppertoastuniverse @hopefulpeachcolor

Stained glass and heart dividers by @/saradika

Line divider by @benkeibear

Galaxy divider by @/cafekitsune

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Between the pages

AN: Shoutout to Indigo for violently thrusting me back into my Namjoon feelings. This has been a long time in the making.

Synopsis: If anyone asks, Professor Kim is definitely not crushing on the pretty librarian he spends all of his free time with on campus.

Heads up: Kim Namjoon x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers, so much pining, Non-Idol AU, University professor! Namjoon, Librarian! Reader, Reader wears glasses and Namjoon thinks it's hot, alcohol and alcohol consumption, Reader kisses Namjoon without his explicit consent at first, dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), Reader sucks on Namjoon's fingers post fingering, praise kink (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex and creampie.

Word count: 4535

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

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Namjoon tries to convince himself that the reason a smile immediately graces his face when he enters his department's library is because of his love for knowledge. That's it. That's all.

It definitely has nothing to do with getting the opportunity to see and talk to the very attractive head librarian. Nope. Nothing of the sort.

"What's got you all smiley? Found a new favourite philosophy journal?"

Namjoon studiously ignores the way his heart stutters in his chest. He turns around to face you directly and is once again caught off-guard at how ridiculously attractive you manage to look in a simple pencil skirt and flowy blouse. Your glasses framing your warm eyes, and your glossed lips quirked upwards in amusement.

God, he had it so bad.

"Am I not allowed to simply smile for the sake of smiling?" He asks with a grin of his own, the two of you seamlessly falling into step as you make your way to your office where he was initially headed.

"Answering a question with a question is deflection, Professor Kim," you respond with a good-natured poke to his arm. He jokingly rubs the spot, "Violence and referring to me as Professor Kim? Y/n I thought we were friends. I'm hurt."

He doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes with that unfairly pretty smile on your face as you hold your office door open for him, "I never took you to be one for dramatics, Namjoon."

Namjoon feels little better than a schoolboy with his first crush. Warmth flooding his face at the way you say his name. He just hopes his body wouldn't hate him enough to make his blush obvious or, you'd give him the curtsey of not mentioning it.

"Clearly you don't know me all that well then, Miss y/l/n. Seems like all this hiding out in each others' offices might've been for nothing," he retorts, making himself comfortable on the lounge chair by the window you'd both unofficially agreed upon was his. He tries not to think too deeply about that.

Typically you'd join him by the window, but you opt to prop yourself up on your desk, and Namjoon's tongue turns to sand in his mouth. Your already figure-hugging skirt sits tighter on your hips and thighs somehow, even riding up enough for Namjoon to feel the need to take a generous sip from his trusted water bottle.

"Wow really? My surname? Now you're being petty, Joon," you say before taking your first bite of your lunch.

It had become a habit for the two of you to meet for lunch whenever possible. Usually alternating between offices or whoever was closer to the other's side of the campus on a particular day. Namjoon thinks it's partly during these lunch sessions that the seeds of his feelings for you were planted. Though he hasn't quite decided how to unpack that can of worms yet, he wouldn't trade these moments with you for the world.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Namjoon can't stand these end of year functions, but he attends because he knows it'd be a terrible look if he didn't. He does have other people in the department he's friendly with, but they definitely don't outweigh how tedious these functions can be.

He's standing somewhat awkwardly in the back of the room nursing a glass of juice (because of fucking course they wouldn't be serving any alcohol) when he first spots you. Namjoon knows you're beautiful. It's a fact that he's violently reminded of every time he sees you. However, he's never seen you like this. He thought your pencil skirts were form-fitting, but the way the red dress you're wearing now cups your ass and hugs your hips has the blood rushing to his dick at record-breaking speed. He's never seen so much of you at once, a hint of cleavage peaking out and the dress coming to a stop mid-thigh. To make it all worse (or better, depending on one's perspective), you're still wearing your glasses.

Namjoon is just happy he hasn't spontaneously combusted yet, honestly.

The bright smile that spreads across your face when you spot him and make your way over to him makes him feel more nervous than he has in ages. Which is saying something considering how tongue-tied he gets around you in general.

"Joon, thank god. I'm so happy you're here. These functions are always so boring," you say as you pull him into a hug. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around you, his body moving before his brain can fully process you pressed against him and your perfume invading his senses. God, you smell delicious.

"I'm glad to see you too. Yeah, I've been entertaining myself with a glass of juice for the past 30ish minutes. Having the time of my life," he responds sarcastically but makes sure he's not loud enough for anyone to hear him other than you. These functions may suck, but Namjoon has no desire to sour his relationships with his colleagues.

The mischievous smile that graces your face makes his palms sweat, "Want to get out of here? I have a bottle of wine I've been saving in my office."

"Wine in your office? That's pretty unprofessional of you, Miss Librarian," he responds with a grin.

"Well, I've been keeping it for a time like this. Unless you're content to sip on juice all night and make small talk about semester plans," you retort, mirth twinkling in your eyes.

"It has been almost 2 hours, so it wouldn't be a bad look if we excused ourselves now..." he reasons, and honestly he could use a drink right now.

"Glad to see you're on board. You're always so serious and responsible, I'm a little surprised you agreed," you say with a small snort, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the door.

You two say goodnight to everyone who crosses your path, and Namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes at the grins and thumbs ups that Hoseok and Seokjin give him.

"I'm not that uptight," he argues a little defensively when you two are finally by yourselves.

"There's nothing wrong with being responsible. It's a big reason why I think you're such a loved and respected professor. I just think you could stand to let go sometimes," you say and, Namjoon's heart is trying its best to beat out of his chest.

You think he's loved and respected? You think he's a good professor?

He knows he doesn't need your validation, but it means the world to him all the same. The genuine sincerity and concern in your voice making it challenging for him to find his words.

"I plan to let go a little tonight. I think you're a bad influence," he jokes, playfully shoving you with his arm.

"I'm a fantastic influence. That's why you spend so much time with me," you retort with another one of those cute, amused snorts. Unlocking the door to the library when you two arrive quicker than Namjoon expected.

"I spend so much time with you because Hoseok's unending optimism and positivity drains my energy," he fires back, closing the door behind him once you enter the library before him.

"Hoseok's a sweetheart. You're just grumpy and overly jaded," you respond, leading the way to your office.

He tries not to feel too jealous hearing you refer to Hoseok as a sweetheart. You're not wrong. It's fair to refer to him as such, but it's still not exactly pleasant to hear.

"Me? Grumpy? Overly jaded? I'm delightful!" He says in mock offence, settling himself in his chair and watching you pull out the bottle of wine and two coffee mugs. Biting back a groan when he takes in how amazingly your dress hugs your ass.

"I never said you weren't delightful. I wouldn't be offering my treasured wine stash to you if I didn't at the bare minimum like you," you argue with a light laugh as you fill up your respective mugs.

"You just used the wine to bribe me to sneak out with you. I'm flattered nonetheless," he says with a laugh of his own, graciously accepting the generously filled mug you offer. He's severely unprepared for you to take a seat on the arm of his chair, your thigh brushing against him as you get comfortable.

Namjoon is starting to think this isn't a smart idea after all.

"Have you spending time with Seokjin? Is that why you've been so theatrical lately?" You ask with a smile before taking a generous sip from your mug, your pleased hum affecting him more than it had any right to.

"I'm just seeing this for what it is," he says, taking a swing from his own mug. Sweet. Seems like you enjoy your rosé. He makes a note of that for any future gifts.

"Sure, Joon," you respond, patting his shoulder. Taking another sip from your glass, licking your lips to chase the remnants of the wine. The wine is only worsening the hazy sensation he feels seeing the action and the slight smudging of your lipstick.

"Your lipstick looks nice," he spits out and immediately cringes at himself. Resisting the urge to rest his face in his hands as warmth floods his face. What the fuck was wrong with him? Surely it wasn't the singular sip of wine he took.

"Oh," you say, sounding surprised, "Thank you. You know I'm not one for make-up, but I thought why not since it's a special occasion. I'm glad you like it. I didn't take you for one to notice," you finish, playfully nudging his arm with your thigh.

Namjoon takes a generous sip of his wine before responding.

"I always notice these kinds of things when it comes to you and, you look pretty," he says before panicking at the implications of his words, "Not that you don't look pretty without the lipstick. You look pretty all the time. It's just-"

"I got it, Joon," you laugh, taking a drink from your own mug, and Namjoon definitely doesn't notice how appealing your neck looks. He needs to get his shit together. He's too old to be this flustered talking to a pretty woman. Well, you're more than just that, but that's besides the point.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty. I didn't know you thought of me that way," you say so quietly that Namjoon has to strain to hear you. You look almost...shy? Completely unlike the sarcastic, confident woman he's become familiar with. It's cute. You're cute.

"I think you're beautiful honestly but, it's not exactly like I can just drop it in casual conversation," he says, surprised by his own confidence but, he's already called you pretty. What more does he have to lose?

"Kim Namjoon, are you flirting with me?" You ask with a smile behind your mug, but he can still see what he thinks is shyness in your expression.

"Is it so bad to flirt with the prettiest librarian on campus?" He asks, taking satisfaction in the stunned look on your face, your lips parting as you sit there just staring at him.

He watches you flounder with your words, a very private part of him enjoying being the one to fluster you for once.

"You think I'm the prettiest librarian on campus?" You ask quietly, as if you can't quite believe what's he saying to you right now. In your defence, he can't quite believe what he's saying to you right now either. He has the feeling that he's reached a crossroads now. Whatever he says to you now might change the nature of your relationship entirely, and Namjoon is tired of being a coward.

"I think you're the prettiest librarian I've ever met," he says with so much seriousness that there's no possible way you could misunderstand his words for lighthearted bantering. His heart bouncing off the walls of his chest as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

"Namjoon," is all you seem to muster at the moment, wide eyes still locked on him.

"You don't have to reciprocate my feelings, y/n. I've liked you for some time now, but I'd never put my feelings before yours and before this friendship. You mean too much for me to do that. I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable -" you promptly shut Namjoon up by cupping his face and pressing a searing kiss to his lips.

Well, it seems like it's his turn to be stunned.

His eyes widen as you seemingly pour everything you have into his kiss, your hold on his face tightening momentarily before you pull away. All Namjoon can do is stare at you. Looking unfairly attractive as you struggle to catch your breath and your glasses look slightly askew.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just kissed you. I just-I couldn't find the words to tell you that I like you too in the moment. I'm sorry," you say in a single breath, and Namjoon has to strain to catch all of your words. However, panic hits him when your words do finally register.

"No, hey, it's okay. I was just surprised, is all. It's not every day the woman of your dreams kisses you. Give a guy a minute to recover," he jokes, reaching for your smaller hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Your hand squeezes his back, and frankly, Namjoon is just impressed that he's managed to remain conscious through this all.

"Woman of your dreams? Namjoon, please," you whine somewhat embarrassed, and that just endears you to him more.

"It's true," he says and means ever word of it.

"If you keep looking at me like that and speaking like that, I might just have to kiss you again," you respond playfully, resting your mug on the small coffee table.

"Is that a promise?" He fires back with a grin of his own, following suit.

"You're so annoying," you retort with an affectionate eye roll before you press your lips against his once more. This time, he's better prepared and more than ready to reciprocate. One of his hands tentatively resting on your thigh as angle yourself better to deepen the kiss. The feeling of your tongue against his own sending sparks down his spine. Arousal pooling in his gut, fed by all the little moans and whimpers you let out.

"Is this okay?" You ask breathlessly when you straddle him, your chair barely big enough to fit the two of you, but Namjoon isn't going to complain any time soon. Your soft thighs press against his and he's almost completely certain that your panty covered pussy is pressing against him.

"Yeah," his brain pulls itself together enough to spit out before weaving his fingers into your hair and, tugging you down for another earth-shattering kiss. Months' worth of desire and frustration pouring out of him. His other hand tentatively holding your hip in place all while he hopes his erection isn't too obvious to you.

He can tell the moment you feel it because you still against him momentarily. "Shit, I'm sorry. We don't have to do anything you don't want. It's just a natural reaction-"

"Joon, breathe. It's okay," you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I want this. I'm just as excited as you are," you breathe, taking his much bigger hand in yours and guiding it up your ridiculously soft thighs. A quiet moan falling from your lips when his fingertips make contact with your wet panties.

Namjoon wonders what heroic acts he committed in his past lives to find himself here.

"You're already so wet," he breathes, fingers lightly running along your slit. Lidded eyes taking in the way your lips part to let out moans and your hips buck into his touch. Your fingernails digging into his shoulder when he's certain he's found your clit and uses that information to his advantage.

"You don't have to ah say that out loud, y'know," you respond, but any sarcasm that would typically be present in your voice is replaced by breathy whimpers. Namjoon thinks he much prefers them. As much as your quick-wit is one of his favourite aspects of your personality, he's finding that he immensely enjoys rendering you speechless.

"Why not, baby? You are so wet for me already, though. I could always stop," he trails off, stopping the movement of his fingers and keeping them pressed against you. A smirk spreading across his face when you whine and squirm in his lap.

"You're being mean," and fuck if the desperate edge to your voice doesn't shoot straight to his dick. Deciding to be merciful this time around, his fingers continue rubbing over your wet slit over your panties. Kissing along your jaw and neck as you whimper and grind against him in search of friction.

"Joon, please. Touch me di-directly," you hiccup, pressing yourself firmly against his fingers. Your nails digging into his shoulders. He had no idea you'd be so needy and desperate. He briefly wonders if you're always like this or if this is all because of him. His self-esteem certainly hopes it's the latter.

"You're so cute when you're needy," he rumbles against your throat, canines brushing the skin there while his fingers push your panties to the side. He thinks he'll remember the strangled gasp that flies from your lips when his fingers make contact with your clit as long as he lives.

He knew you were wet before, but he's severely unprepared for the effect feeling said wetness for himself has on him. His cock already leaking pre-cum where it rests untouched underneath you. Teasing you is a double-edged sword. You're not the only one becoming desperate here.

"Namjoon," you whine, "Please, please let me feel your fingers. It hurts. Please-" your begging is cut off by a sharp moan when he finally concedes and pushes two fingers inside of you. How can he say no when you sound so beautiful for him? He's just a man.

He tugs you into another messy kiss while he fucks you on his fingers to distract himself. He feels like he'll lose his mind soon if he doesn't feel you around his cock soon. Groaning into your mouth at how harshly your velvety walls grip his fingers as he familiarises himself with the spots that make you moan louder and hold onto him tighter.

The whimper you press against his lips when his thumb finds your clit and rubs slow circles against it is immaculate. In the dead of night when he'd fantasised about having you like this, he hadn't considered how sensitive and pliant you are. Reality is significantly better than any of his dreams.

"Joo-Joon, I- ah I'm," you whine out, your glasses slightly skewed and foggy on your face while you ride his fingers and chase your release. Namjoon doesn't think he's seen anything more erotic in his entire life.

"Are you going to cum for me?" The gruff edge to his voice or perhaps the question seems to do it for you because before he knows it you're holding onto to him for dear life and he has to slot his mouth over yours to silence your suddenly sharp cries. His cock pulsing as he feels your walls hold onto his fingers so tightly that he can barely move them anymore and, your wetness drips down his palm.

"That's a good girl. You did so well for me," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder softly as he waits for you to come back to him. He takes notice of the way your walls momentarily clench from what he assumes is the praise. Well. He'd happily give you all the praise you wanted.

"You're ridiculously good with your fingers," you mutter, cupping his face and kissing him as though you have all the time in the world. Something dangerously close to love for you swells in him from the affection you pour into the kiss. You rest your forehead against his when you pull away, a small smile playing on your bruised lips.

"Thank you," is all his brain can come with right now with his fingers still nestled inside of you and being harder than he ever has been in his entire life.

"Would it be okay if I sucked you off?"

You're trying to kill him. This is what this is. An elaborate plot to end his life in an instant.

His cock very much likes the sound of that, however.

"You don't have to do that,"

"I know. I want to,"

He closes his eyes and tries to gain his bearings for a few seconds.

"Maybe next time. I don't want to cum in your mouth right now,"

The pout on your lips is surprising and unfairly attractive, "Why not?"

You really were going to make him spell it out for you, aren't you?

"I'd rather cum while I'm inside of you,"

His jaw clenches when he feels your walls clamp down on his fingers once more, a barely there whimper falling from your lips, "Kim Namjoon, you're going to be the death of me."

Funny you should say that because the feeling is mutual.

He does laugh at that. Pressing a kiss against your cheek, "And you think I'm dramatic. We can just stop here if you don't want to. Plus, I don't have any condoms on hand. I wasn't exactly...anticipating all of this."

"What in the world would make you think I'd want to stop now?" You ask, sounding genuinely baffled, "And on the topic of birth control, I'm on the pill."

His eyes close then, and he can't bite back a groan. You would really let him fuck you raw? He's not sure if you're insane for suggesting it or if he's insane for seriously considering it.

"If you're not comfortable with that we can just stop here. I'm not in a rush," you reassure him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple and it's then that Namjoon thinks he may lose his mind if he doesn't have you right now.

Without a word, he pulls you into another earth titling kiss, grinning against your mouth when you grip his fingers like a vice when he tugs on your hair and nips your lip. "You really don't know what you do to me," he breathes, easing his fingers out of you and chuckling darkly at the way you whimper from the loss. He might be pushing his luck here, but "Open."

He watches through lidded eyes as you eagerly suck on his fingers coated in your wetness. Your lashes fluttering behind your glasses and, your soaked slit grinding down on him in search of some sort of friction. "Such a good girl," he praises, kissing you while his hands fumble with his belt and the buttons of his pants. Relief coursing through him when manages to finally free himself. His cock slapping against his shirt covered stomach unceremoniously.

Your reaction to seeing him does fantastic things for his ego.

"You're...bigger than I anticipated," you breathe out, your eyes laser focused on his dick while your hands absentmindedly tug on his hair. "You thought about my dick? I'm flattered," he says with a smirk likely a touch too smug but, he can't help it. It's not every day the woman of your dreams casually mentions that she's fantasised about you and you have her spread out across your lap.

"I've thought about more than your dick but, it's featured in a fantasy or two," you laugh breathlessly, squirming in his lap.

"Well, I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer then,"

When you slowly start to sink down on him, Namjoon knows he's a goner. His hands grip your soft hips for dear life as your warm, wet walls gradually accommodate him inch by inch. He's not sure where he wants to look more. Your pretty pussy stretching around him or the blissed out look on your beautiful face right now.

His hand impatiently tugs your dress down and he takes a hard nipple in his mouth both to distract you from the discomfort and, for the simple want to. His head spins when your pussy clenches around him at the contact. Needy hands tugging on his hair while you moan from the sensations.

"Nam-Namjoon," you moan out so brokenly and, he's pretty sure he's never heard a more beautiful sound. He might be inlove with you actually but, he shoves that thought aside as soon as it arises.

He grits his teeth when you slowly rise up and sink back down on him again, your nails biting into him as you try your best to establish a steady rhythm. "You're so beautiful," he groans as he watches you bounce on his cock. He  didn't intend for that thought to slip out but, he doesn't regret in the slightest when he watches your eyelids flutter and your pussy tightens around him.

You can't even coherently respond to him. Too lost in your own pleasure and the feeling of his cock to string together a sentence at the moment. Not that Namjoon can really blame you. Your walls are like a vice around him, and he feels his release approaching dangerously quickly. There's no way he's going to cum without atleast getting you to cum for him one more time.

One of his hands tugs on your hair to pull you down for another heated kiss. All teeth and tongue and spit. While the other reaches between your thighs, the corners of his mouth ticking up when you gasp against him as his fingers draw quick circles on your clit. Thankfully, he's a fast learner.

He nearly bites down on your lip when you cum. Velvety walls clenching and spasming around him while you cling onto him for purchase. I mean, is it really a shock that it doesn't take much more than that for him to follow suit?

Groans and stuttered curses leaving his lips when pulses inside of you. The symphony of your sounds of pleasure and heavy breathing all that can be heard as he fills you. Holding you to him while he rides out his intense release. He doesn't think he's ever cum this hard in his entire life. Guess that's what happens when you cum inside the love of your life.

Pushing that insane thought aside once more, he loosens his hold on you when he regains feeling in his body. The sticky combination of your releases dribbling out of you and down his groin but, he can't bring himself to care at the moment.

"Usually, people go on dates first, no?" You ask still sounding breathlessly but, he can hear the smile in your tone.

"Mmm yeah, usually they do but, I don't think there's anything wrong with doing things a little out of order,"

"You're not wrong. I hope you know this is my roundabout way of asking you out,"

The laugh that forces itself out of him is hearty and more carefree than he's felt in a concerningly long time.

"I'd love to go out with you, y/n."

[demaparbat-hp]

I didn't know Katara also had silver marks on the Kintsugi AU. How did you come up with that idea? Is it an in-universe cultural thing? If it is, is it exactly the same as Zuko's or does the Water Tribe have their own beliefs around it?

Sorry if I'm asking too many questions, I just really love how your mind works when it comes to these AUs 💖

Hello, and thanks for asking!

Initially, Kintsugi was a strictly Fire Nation tradition. Something to hold over the rest of the nations, and deepen their own belief of cultural superiority. Zuko hiding his scars played into that idea, since having gold inlaid in your body is a clear sign of Fire Nation blood—furthermore, High Fire Nation blood.

That being said, one lovely anon gave the suggestion that perhaps the other nations also have their own kinds of Kintsugi, and I fell in love with the idea. @ican-fixitbooks went even deeper into the particular philosophies of each nation regarding Kintsugi. I'll be using some quotes from them—watch for the italics.

It was during said brainstorming session that I thought of Katara having a silver Kintsugi scar, and how could it be used to enhance the themes of ATLA, Katara's arc, and this AU as a whole.

But a little background is necessary, I believe.

Kintsugi is a tradition practiced worldwide, with minor differences in philosophy/technique according to each nation.

The Earth Kingdom seal their scars with a substance that resembles bronze, as the mentality of breaking yourself down to build yourself back up better than you were is very central to their culture. It is used as a way to celebrate one's victories, made all the better if damage was taken to achieve it.

The elite have rather different views on this practice. They believe themselves to be above such things. That which is broken must be hidden away, which has interesting connotations when thinking about a certain blind earthbender.

The Air Nomad philosophy leans towards a naturalist approach. Anything natural doesn't need to be "improved" in their eyes. If a scar is there, it is there. Let it be there as a part of you, no different than any other, no need to be "made better", but in fact better to just "be".

Kintsugi is a cultural practice meant to celebrate making something beautiful out of something broken, arguably even making it better than it was. During Sozin's reign and forward, Kintsugi became a way to show the Fire Nation's superiority. Especially as that is essentially their philosophy for war: "Breaking the rest of the world so it can be reforged in fire, made a better, more perfect place."

As for the Water Tribes, there's the healing factor to take into account. The Northern Water Tribe isolated itself from the rest of the world once the war began, so they hold tight to their traditions and beliefs. If something is not broken, then why attempt to fix it? Kintsugi is scoffed at in the North—it is a foreign practice, one that is not necessary when all your wounds can be healed with bending.

However, the Southern Water Tribe has been exposed to the world. They have seen war. They have lived through it. They have suffered, but they are also free because of it, if only in spirit. The South is strong and proud and bold, so it comes as no surprise that silver Kintsugi becomes the mark of their warriors, their hunters, their people.

Katara was wounded during the last Southern Raid. After losing Kya in such a terrible way, Hakoda made sure to seal Katara's wound with the silver of their warriors, so that she would always remember that despite having been broken, she is still strong, beautiful, and proud.

The scar itself is long and thin, going from her right shoulder up to her jaw. It loosely resembles lightning.

And despite how she got it, despite all the things she lost on that day, despite it being a constant reminder of her mother's death—Katara loves her scar.

It grounds her. It pushes her forward. You are a warrior, it tells her. You are a survivor.

When Katara arrives at the North, her scar becomes yet another thing the Northerners hold against her. They use it to demean her, just as they do her gender and out-spoken personality.

The North believes a lot of things that Katara always considered natural to be a problem. What does it matter that she is a woman? What is wrong about being passionate? Why should having a scar mean she's broken?

This scar is something they cannot touch. The Northerners try to use it to demean her. To make her small. Self-conscious. Worthless.

They're scoffing at her mother's death.

Her strength.

Her beauty.

Her pride.

Her story.

And she will not allow it.

[shaynesthetic]

The only thing I think I got right | Luke Castellan

Word Count: 10.2k

A "Better Unknown" AU oneshot

Main Series: Better Unknown

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Minor God! Half-Blood! Gender Neutral MC

Synopsis: Out of everything that Luke thought he fucked up his entire life, Y/N leaving him where he stood was the ultimate fuck up he wishes he hadn’t. How can he fix this? And will he be able to? 

Tags: Two idiots, mutual pining, Best friends to lovers, fluff, angst with comfort

Warning: Little beta- reading, foul language

Banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Hello once again! This was a last-minute idea that's why I'm a little late. Happy Valentines Day! Or belated Valentines' Day if it's already the 15th for you like it is for me. Once again, English is not my first language so apologies for any grammatical errors. Critiques are always welcomed.

A/N: Also, I correct some stuff whenever I see fit sometimes. So if anyone sees any errors, no you didn't. Also also, as of February 16, 2024, I have updated the ending.

It was the month everyone either despised or loved; It was Aphrodite’s month. A.K.A Valentines. February was always Camp Half-Blood's busiest month. With nymphs making sure every tree was lush and perfect, satyrs helping Demeter kids with preparing and picking the ripest strawberries, Aphrodite kids running around the camp supervising preparations for a feast to be held in honor of their mother alongside some Hermes and Hephaestus kids who were tasked on helping them, with a small fee of dessert that is.

Half of the campers were hanging out with their friends today, grateful that they could finally have a day to themselves, either by canoeing on the lake or having picnics in front of the beautiful views the Hill can give them. Younger campers made heart-shaped letters in the arts and crafts center to send to either their parent or the person they wanted to confess to. Others were practicing the lyre, particularly the Apollo kids, who were asked to help serenade confessing individuals, once again, with a small fee of their food portions, drachmas, and other privileges.

 

Then there was Y/N. Along with some Ares kids, they were on the training grounds, passing the time. It wasn't that Y/N was a bitter gremlin on Valentine's or anything, it was just that they treated it just like any other day. Why need a day to celebrate your love for others when you can do that every day? Was their philosophy. Truth be told, ever since their mom's passing, they just didn't see the point in celebrating. But that was before coming to Camp Half-Blood. They didn't celebrate arriving in camp either, don't get them wrong…but at least they weren’t alone. It wasn’t like the Ares kids were bitter gremlins either; they just didn’t care. Well, they claim they don’t. But you’ll have to take their word on it. 

Y/N was with Clarisse and one of her other siblings, Mark, who insisted on joining them. Clarisse was helping Y/N with the spear, also with a small fee (why would anyone work for free nowadays anyway?). They have been sparring for a few hours, and none have yet to let down. Perks of being the Ares kid and a minor god, respectively. Another sparring session commenced and Mark just watched as their sibling and Y/N hit blow after blow with each other. The clashing of wood and iron made the air sting with adrenaline, and both took advantage of it. 

The dropping of the spear took Mark off his apparent disassociation, and the scene came into view. Y/N was on the ground, with Clarisse pointing a spear to their neck, one minor move from Y/N and Clarisse could nick them. Y/N, out of breath, smiled and looked up at the girl, before nodding and raising their hands in complete surrender. "Alright, Clarisse. You got me." The child of Ares cackled victoriously at them, Mark in the background cheering. Y/N got up and brushed the dust off their clothes. 

“You’re kinda getting good. You still suck but the sparring’s getting you somewhere.” Give it to Clarisse for giving compliments, if you can call it a compliment. But Y/N took it as one. It was a rare occurrence for the Ares cabin’s head counselor to give compliments to other cabins, but for some odd reason, Y/N was an exception. Well, it wasn’t THAT odd. Y/N and Clarisse were best friends, and other campers find that awfully odd. But to Y/N, they were odd to begin with and everything in their life, from the Gods to prophecies to quests are too, so who cares? Being friends with the biggest bully and their other siblings in the camp was the least of their worries. 

Y/N rolled their eyes at Clarisse before shoving their hands in their jean pockets, making their way to a hay bale, and plopping down on it. Clarisse sat next to them, looking at the spear in their hands. “Any plans for the Goddess of Love’s Day?” Y/N asks out of the blue. Clarisse only stared at them before she started laughing with malice. Is it malice? Y/N couldn’t tell.

“What do you think, Ease?” Clarisse smirked as Y/N blushed at the nickname. It was a nickname given by Y/N’s other best friend, Luke, the son of Hermes.  It was a nickname to embody what Y/N was to Luke, as he claims. Ever since the duo came back to camp after a particularly harrowing quest, Luke never had any troubles with sleeping and claimed Y/N had everything to do with it. Y/N begged to disagree, although they weren't going to admit he was right. Ever since, that nickname stuck like glue. Luke took every second embarrassing them with the nickname. It secretly infuriated them, but Y/N knew it had to be endearing, so they let it go. Y/N had a weird set of friends, who would never get along they think, but Y/N didn’t care. A friend was a friend.  

Clarisse, unfortunately, one day had the fortune of hearing Luke call them that. It was during one of the sword fighting training sessions with Luke, and he, out of either pettiness or wanting to embarrass the hell out of Y/N, called them up to be their test dummy sparring buddy. It went smoothly at first. Y/N wasn’t new to Luke asking them to be his sparring and demonstration partner whenever both Y/N’s cabin’s itineraries and his time as a teacher coincide, which doesn’t happen that often, but when it does Luke took advantage of it. Regardless, Y/N did it for Luke. And Luke was always ever so grateful for it. 

After a few demonstrations from Luke, the real sparring commenced. Y/N knew they had no leg to stand on and was awfully aware that Luke was the best swordsman in Camp Half-Blood. There was no way in hell they’d beat him. It was a short spar and before they knew it, Y/N was on the ground, a scene Y/N was all too familiar with to the point Y/N might as well befriend the ground they walk on by how much accustomed they were to being face to face with it. 

Luke smiled at Y/N as the tip of their sword was right in front of their throat and Y/N rolled their eyes. "You okay there, Ease?" he asked, offering their hand for them to take. Y/N partially accepted the offer, before their eyes widened. The nickname wasn't supposed to go out to everyone else. They looked at the crowd before them, Apollo kids, Y/N's cabin, and unfortunately, Ares kids and Clarisse. Shame and embarrassment became anger, and Y/N swatted Luke's hand before beelining to the exit. 

Luke stood there stunned, not realizing the gravity of the situation. It took him a while to finally understand what he had done. Y/N had firmly asked them to keep the nickname between themselves. But Luke couldn't help it. He forgets himself whenever he's in front of them. It was like Y/N was his tunnel vision, and he forgot every ounce of autonomy and thought. He knew he didn't mean to embarrass Y/N but it slipped. And now, Luke had to ask for penance. It wasn't new for the two to bicker and fight, it was in friends' nature to do so. However, this was different. Y/N was the type to always prove a point, and they'd normally react with a malice-laced “What the hell does that mean?” or a very exasperated “What?”, but today was different. They left without arguing, and that scared Luke more than all of their heated fights combined. He swallowed from worry and nervousness before apologizing to everyone in the arena, also beelining to the exit. Clarisse was there to witness everything, and for once that day, she snickered.

Ever since that day, Ease had stuck in everyone's minds. Although no one dared to use it and stuck on calling Y/N their name, Clarisse would use it often to either taunt or tease them, there was no in-between. 

"I hate you so much" Y/N begrudgingly says, looking far away from them. Clarisse's laugh roared as a response. "Does Mr. Loverboy have any plans for you both?” That got Y/N's attention. They tilted their head, trying to decipher her words. Clarisse, ever so observant, took that as an answer and sighed.

"He's such a fucking loser." Mark and Y/N's heads snap up, nonverbally lecturing the girl for the use of such…language. It was second nature to think Chiron was listening to them, and the look of disapproval from the camp director was hard to remove. The last thing they wanted was Clarisse getting in trouble or worse…dishwashing duty. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? That boy is in love with you and couldn’t get the balls to confess to you. He's stuck looking at you like a kicked puppy every time he even catches sight of you it's so damn annoying.” It was now Y/N’s turn to laugh, albeit it was more bitter than straight coffee. They knew it wasn’t possible. Y/N knew their feelings for their best friend were genuine but for some sick, twisted, sadistic reason, Y/N decided upon themselves to assume that it was one-sided, and thus made it their mission to lock it up and throw away the key. Even if they weren’t romantically involved, they were just happy for Luke to be a part of their life. Y/N has convinced themselves. 

“I can’t believe I’m friends with idiots!” Clarisse raises her arms in frustration and annoyance, to both her best friend and Luke themselves. It was clear that they danced around their feelings and it was so fascinating that an Ares kid out of everyone saw that, out of all the kids in the camp. It was comedic, albeit sad, but comedic.

“Clarisse, you’re the only one who thinks that.” “Not really.” Mark immediately interjects. Y/N glares at the kid, Mark shrugging in response. Clarisse pumps her fist in the air and high-fives Mark in vindication.  “Even the kid sees it, Y/N. Stop telling yourself it ain’t so because it is.  Luke loves you and you love him. End of story.” 

"I'm content that he's part of my life, Clarisse. Isn't that enough?" The last sentence came out in the form of a whisper, which even Y/N was surprised by. They tried to convince either themselves or Clarisse & Mark that that was the case.  Why were they getting choked up about this in the first place? Weren't they content that he was part of their life? Y/N damns their actions for betraying their words. 

“Look, just accept the fact you like Luke. Stop pretending and stop convincing yourself that you don’t. Let your feelings out.” Clarisse blurted out. Y/N couldn’t help but not stifle a laugh. “Since when did you become Aphrodite’s kid?” Clarisse jokingly punched their shoulder, a blush creeping in her cheeks. “Shut up.” The Clarisse that they knew, the one who hid her feelings well, embodied pride, arrogance & exuded bravery, and wouldn’t dare give any advice, less a confession, was back. 

“Look, I’m just saying that you’re no better than Luke. You might be even worse than him. And I don’t like seeing my best friend sulking because they made their own bed and laid on it. Stop being stupid and accept the fact that Luke has feelings for you and you have to as well or I'll have to beat you with a stick just to get it through your thick skull." 

Y/N spent the entire day looking for Luke, who was nowhere to be found in his normal stations. They asked all his siblings about his whereabouts but nothing. Na-da. Zip. It wasn’t like him to disappear. In a day they’d see wafts of his brownish-black curly hair in the crowd multiple times and knew it was him. Whenever they see him, it was as if he's the only one they can see. 

They decided to look around the cabins once again. They bargained to themselves that if they didn’t see him that time, they’d just look for them at the dining pavilion later tonight or just assume he’s busy. They were so busy with their thoughts it took them a while to finally see the man of the hour. He was leaning against the Aphrodite Cabin, talking to a girl. The girl was blonde, and her height was the same as Luke's shoulder. Louise Clifford-Jacobs, Y/N remembered her name. They were one of Aphrodite Cabin’s kindest members. Y/N wasn’t close to them but they’ve talked once in a while and they’ve heard nothing but kind words from everyone around her.  They were laughing and the girl was giggling, excitement drawn on her face. She notices Y/N approaching him and she taps Luke's shoulder before pointing to their direction. 

Luke looked away from her and saw Y/N, smiling and waving. Luke offered them what seemed like a smile and a hand raised. The smile was something Y/N noticed approaching him. It looked as if it was out of nervousness or tiredness, Y/N couldn't pinpoint which one. It looked forced and was nowhere near Luke's actual smile. 

Still, Y/N flashed a big smile at Luke, happy that they finally found him after that unnecessary scavenger hunt to locate him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You weren’t in the Sword Fighting Arena and your siblings didn’t know where you were”

Luke shifted on his feet, hung his head down, and put his hand on the back of his neck.  “Hey, Ease. Yeah sorry ‘bout that I had a lot of things to do. I’ll make it up to you soon. Honest!”  Y/N nodded their head in understanding. “Oh yeah!” they exclaimed, remembering why they were looking for him in the first place. “I was gonna ask you something. Do you have a second?” Luke began looking between them and Louise. The air suddenly felt thick as tensions and awkwardness rose as if Luke was caught between a rock and a hard place. It seemed as if Luke made his decision when he responded, "Oh shit, sorry Ease I'm in the middle of something with Louise. Do you mind?" 

The smile on Y/N’s face dropped and a forced hard line formed on their lips. “Oh. Oh okay. No worries. If it’s important I can ask you some other time. Bye Louise!” Y/N quickly walked away with hands in their pockets. Y/N felt a pang in their chest, and their heart began to beat more rapidly than normal. They didn’t know what they were feeling. Sadness? Disappointment? It seemingly wasn’t Y/N’s Day, but they convinced themselves that it was because Luke was busy, considering he was Camp Counselor after all. Yeah, that’s what it is. Y/N tried to rationalize what took place. However, Y/N evidently came up short.

It had begun to be a daily occurrence it seems, Y/N finding Luke, asking if they could talk or hang out with them and him disregarding them, brushing them off, or telling them they're busy. Just like it became a sudden everyday occurrence, it also became a nuisance and annoyance to Y/N. Once can be brushed off as a mere coincidence but multiple times in a week? Now, that wasn't a coincidence. It had become clear to Y/N: Luke was avoiding them. But why? Did they do something to upset Luke? Couldn’t be. Was it? It didn’t make sense to Y/N. It didn’t make sense to poor ol’ Annabeth either, whom Y/N found solace in. They felt bad and shameful, talking to a literal 13-year-old about stuff they should be dealing with on their own. But Luke was Annabeth’s brother, and Annabeth knew more about him than Y/N would ever in their lifetime. So, it made sense that Y/N would approach her. 

"I could've sworn Luke was walking back and forth from the beach. I've seen him there multiple times a day. Even at the lake with the canoes, I'd see him too. He always looked nervous and his hands were clammy. He was very jumpy too. Whenever I’d ask him, he’d brush me aside, force me off his case, and make me return to the Athena cabin.” Annabeth explained one day when they asked about their sibling’s whereabouts.  Y/N was slowly getting frustrated, not at Annabeth but at the lack of answers. Who wouldn’t be? Your best friend, out of the blue, began ignoring you; without offering any answers, without explanation. Anyone would go insane just thinking about it. Y/N felt they had no one else to blame but themselves. 

Y/N felt despondent more and more every day, and it wasn’t hard to notice. Their signature smile was gone, they weren't eating much, and aloof. Their cabin-mates noticed it too. They weren't their enthusiastic self and slugged around with their activities for the day. Their siblings, wanting to distract them from whatever caused their unorthodox behavior, asked if they wanted to do hand-to-hand combat or forge weapons in the camp forge, which was what Y/N liked doing the most, but was met with a shrug and a distant stare off into the abyss. 

It wasn't just their cabin that got the brunt of Y/N’s melancholy. Half of the population in the camp did. Their beds weren't as comfortable as they had gotten used to. Campers began feeling awful emotionally waking up, some had dreams that caused nothing but dejection and misery. Some Aphrodite kids even woke up feeling nothing but heartache, even though it was supposed to be their month. Everyone was affected, and regardless if Y/N knew of this or not, that wasn’t a matter to them that they cared enough about to fix. Selfish? Probably is. 

The last straw was on a random Tuesday when once again, Y/N looked for Luke. They once again, like clockwork, looked everywhere for him. They finally found them near the Hermes cabin, talking to his half-siblings. Approaching them, they sensed that Luke wasn't in the best of moods, with his back tensed than usual and their siblings looking as if the ground was far more interesting than their older brother's lecture. The two, who they later found out were the Stolls, noticed Y/N approaching. Connor (Y/N thought it was Connor but they weren’t sure) looked at Luke before directing his eyes towards Y/N. Luke's eyebrows scrunched up before looking at what had gotten the Stoll siblings' attention. Y/N, with hands behind their back and with a thin line on their lips, greeted Luke. 

Before Y/N could greet them, Luke stopped them. “Listen, Y/N. I know you wanna hang out with me and tell me whatever this is you want to tell me. I get that. I see that. But please, not now. I’m in the middle of something here.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow in sadness and in turn look at the Stolls. Y/N, who has been patient with their best friend, just wasn’t having it. Out of either frustration or desperation, Y/N spoke. “I know that and I understand that. Being a camp counselor is hard work, especially with these ruffians trying to tear down every wall in the cabin.” Y/N tried to lighten up the situation, earning a snicker from the Stolls, who weren’t their intended audience. Luke just stood there, his face still the same, albeit more unamused than before. 

“But you have to relax for once. You’ve been at it for days now so I was won-““No.” Luke immediately interjects with hints of venom laced in his teeth. Y/N’s breath hitched. This was the first time in their life they’ve heard Luke speak like that. He was usually this nonchalant, chill dude. Serious when needed but a stand-up guy. Today wasn’t the normal Luke. No, it was something else. It made Y/N’s spine tingle with fear. It also made the Stolls’ back straightened. 

“C’mon, Luke. I know you’re working hard but-""I said no, Y/N. Gods above, can’t you please just listen to me once? I’m busy. Please. Leave.” Y/N gulped, looking back at the Stolls before looking back to Luke, whose eyebrows furrowed and scar making him all the more menacing. Y/N immediately left, locking themselves away in their cabin. They looked up, and just thinking about Luke’s tone and expression made them tear up. It was oh so wrong for Y/N to cry over someone, let alone a boy. But this was no ordinary boy no. This boy was special to them, and their expression of annoyance towards them felt like a stab to the heart multiple times, each time the intensity got worse and worse and as a joke, his expression kept removing the daggers only to put it back in.

This made Y/N’s overthinking tenfold. They have settled at the fact that Luke hated them, thought of them as an annoyance, thought of them as excess baggage. These thoughts overwhelmed Y/N and in turn, tears welled up in their eyes, cascading onto their pillow until they fell asleep. None of their siblings tried to bother them, eyes looking back at each other laced with sympathy towards their once exuberant sibling. Y/N ultimately missed lunch and dinner, and Luke noticed that day that Y/N was nowhere to be found. But ultimately decided not to do anything about it. 

It was a Thursday when the downfall came. Y/N, who was feeling nothing but sadness the past couple of days, like a shift of tides, has inadvertently turned this sadness into something else; something much more dangerous and malicious: Anger. It was all of a sudden. Y/N woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and that’s when everything went to shit. Y/N’s anger poured over everyone in their cabin. Sammie, Y/N's bunkmate, asked them what was wrong. They were always there for Y/N and Y/N considered Sammie their closest sibling out of everyone. So, it was a surprise to all of their siblings when Y/N’s voice, filled with malice and venom, barked “LEAVE ME ALONE. CAN’T YOU SEE I’M NOT? FOR GOD'S SAKE JESUS ABOVE! ARE YOU STUPID OR BRAIN DEAD?” Everyone’s mouth hung open as they looked at each other, either out of fear or mere awkwardness.  Y/N wasn’t the type to scream at anyone out of the blue. They were boisterous and loud, sure, but it was out of happiness and eagerness to wake up every day. But now, it was like a cloud cast over Camp Half-Blood, even though it never rained there. 

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the scene in front of them. Y/N on their bed, blanket strewn about on their legs as they scowled at the now teary-eyed Sammie. Time stood still and the air got more and more heavy. Here was their zealous and exuberant sibling, who woke up and randomly just chose to pick a fight the moment their eyes opened. It wasn't like them. But no one knew what caused them to snap. Someone had to step between them and Hayden, one of the older members of the camp, guided Sammie away from Y/N before they further angered them. Essie, another one of their siblings, glared at Y/N.

Y/N, with everyone's eyes on them, finally was hugged by clarity's warmth and their eyes softened. They looked around to see their siblings looking at them with the expression of either disgust or shame, and Y/N couldn't stand to be around their siblings. They tossed their blanket aside and went out of their cabin, head down.

Maybe walking could clear my head. Y/N thought. So, they walked. And walked, visiting every place you can go to in camp, rinse and repeat. They felt like a soulless traveler, wandering aimlessly around. Lifeless and tired. As they began walking back to their cabin however, a familiar voice tried to stop them. They tensed up, realizing it was Luke, the same boy who had been ignoring them for days, who now had the utter audacity to come up to them as if nothing had happened. 

Y/N, more infuriated than before, turned around to look at the boy. He was in a smiley mood, creases formed on the side of their eyes. This was Luke’s signature smile that he knew Y/N loved, but unfortunately for him, today wasn’t the day it’d work on them. They glowered at Luke with intense fury in their eyes, and Luke, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to be sucked in by a black hole from where he stood, even though they had no idea what had made them furious like that. In the years of knowing Y/N, Luke knew they had that specific look whenever they were furious, that one that made you want to eat dirt or bury yourself alive.  It wasn’t a normal occurrence, which made the intensity of the look way worse. And whenever they did show it, regardless of how many times they’ve done so over the years, it always felt like the first, and Luke always shuddered seeing it. He wasn’t thrilled when his Ease was upset. And in years of knowing them, knew not to mess with Y/N during their spouts of anger, but what Luke wanted to tell them was very important to both of them, Luke thinks, and assumed it’d make Y/N’s mood better, just like every other plan Luke had for them when they were mad or upset. In hindsight, this was probably the worst decision Luke has ever made.

"Hey, I was looking for you. Do you have a second?" Luke put his hands in his khaki pants' pockets and smiled at Y/N. Luke's nonchalance made Y/N's expression turn from anger into disbelief. Did he actually believe that Y/N, whose face is red with anger and disgust towards Luke's actions for the past week, would just come around and entertain Luke's question? Certainly, no one would. Disbelief turned into fury, and Y/N's hands turned into a fist. They approached Luke, and for a minute Luke smiled.  Tunnel vision once again washed over Luke, and unfortunately for him, he failed to see Y/N, who without hesitation, swung at him. 

Luke was on the ground in an instant, shock painted across his face. He felt for the side of his lip, which was now cut open and oozing with blood. If Y/N was in a better mood, they’d take a picture of Luke’s expression and hang it up so people would gawk at it. But alas, Y/N didn’t have a camera, and they weren’t in the mood for stupid jokes, let alone Luke’s. 

“You really have the gall to ask me that? After what you’ve fucking done?” Y/N’s every step was filled to the brim with resentment, each step might leave and burn a permanent mark on the ground. Luke wasn't looking forward to what Y/N was gonna do to him. And Luke, in all of this, was painfully unaware of what he had done, as evident by the clueless look he had, which infuriated Y/N more. 

“You, Luke Castellan, are the stupidest, shittiest, and the most pathetic excuse of a man I've ever met in this entire lifetime. You ignore me for days, brush me off when I try to talk to you and act like I don't exist. You are just as cruel as the Gods. No, scratch that. Even worse. If you didn’t wanna be friends anymore you could’ve just fucking told me instead of you acting like you don't see me.” The anger in Y/N seemingly dissipated, replacing it with another just as intense if not more emotion: Anguish. Y/N's eyes were now filled to the brim with days' worth of unshed tears, it was as if the dam inside their heart finally burst. Luke finally, by the grace of God, realized the critical error they'd made. They didn't mean to leave Y/N in the dust like that, but Y/N didn't know that. It was his fault for not communicating with them about it. He, upon seeing his best friend, with tears in their eyes and anger and other pent-up emotions over the days splattered in both their face and actions, knew he had morally fucked up. Luke Castellan, who was very much aware of how many times he had fucked up in his life, who was so used to seeing the consequences of his actions, for seemingly the first time, was now so blissfully aware of how unaware he was of the damage he’d done. The last thing he wanted was to make Y/N feel anything but happiness. He never wanted to hurt them or make them cry. They swore one day years ago that until they died, they wouldn’t make Y/N feel that way. To be alone. To be abandoned, like the Gods did. Luke had always been angry at the Gods for ignoring them and didn't want anyone, especially their best friend, to feel that way after everything that had happened to them. But like the Gods, life was cruel like that, and promises were sometimes made to be broken. And Luke failed. Yet again. He did. At that moment, he realized just how much anguish and pain he had caused. Luke's expression softened and regret was now sprawled across his face.

Y/N raised their fist towards Luke, and he closed his eyes, expecting a second punch to land on his face. I deserve it. he thought.  But he waited and waited until…nothing. Instead, Y/N's fist faced the ground, and their head was down, tears dripping onto the dirt they were now kneeling on. They gripped on their pants like a lifeline, as they shook with rage. Luke, fully grasping what was happening, tried to approach them and touch their hand. But as soon as he tried, Y/N moved away from him. At that moment, you could hear Luke's heart shattering into millions of pieces. He'd officially ruined it. Just like everything he touched.

Y/N stood up and wiped the tears that were threatening to spill from their eyes. Their hair was a mess, shirt rippled as if it wasn't ironed and their hand was now a little bloody from the punch to both Luke's face and the contact with the Earth. Y/ N looked at Luke with malice, and Luke unconsciously stepped back.

“Stay away from me, Luke Castellan. If you know what’s good for you, I advise you to do so. Never ever talk to me again. Go fuck yourself. We’re done.”

Relationships end, that was a given. Love was silly like that. Breaking up and losing who you thought was your forever was one of the saddest heartaches you can get in life. That was universal knowledge. But Luke, at that moment, knew that that wasn't the case.  To him, the most heartbreaking thing was to see their best friend walk away, just like that.  They essentially gave up on him, and Luke had nothing to blame but himself. The one person who he knew wouldn’t give up on them, did just that.  Friendships come and go, and over time and unexpectedly, they can break off. And all you can do is accept and move on. That was natural. But this wasn’t something Luke didn’t want to just accept. He knew this one’s reason wasn't natural. And it had one reason: him. Luke Castellan. Son of Hermes. A fuck up.

Luke laid on his bunk bed, contemplating. This had been going on for two days already. Luke waking up and doing nothing but brood and contemplate. Nobody in the cabin bothered him, aside from Chris who stepped up as temporary camp counselor for him and updated him once in a while about what they did that day, and his other younger sister Mia who cleaned up his wound upon seeing him enter the cabin, dazed and hurt. He would kill just for Y/N to say something to him, to scream at him, do something instead of the cold glares they have given them when they reach the dinner pavilion or even as they walk near their cabin. For some reason, Y/N always knew they were there, and it pissed them off even more. The silence between them was deafening, and Luke hated every minute of it. It wasn't rare for the two to fight, Y/N was feisty and loved arguing, especially when they knew they were right. But the first time, when Y/N decided that they weren't gonna argue, got Luke shaken up and scared. 

Luke had looked everywhere for Y/N that day. He knew he royally fucked up, calling Y/N by their nickname that they’ve agreed upon should be kept in secrecy. Put that in the list of things Luke has fucked up in the years of their friendship. Worry filled Luke’s brain. What if they went to the forest and got hurt? Luke wouldn’t forgive himself if that happens. He’s lost a lot of people in his life, and when Y/N came into his life, while ambivalent at first, later on promised to himself that he wasn’t gonna let anything happen to Y/N. He had sworn to protect them, even though he knew they didn’t need him. Luke was just about to give up, his nerves shaken as he anxiously thought of multiple what-ifs in his head, when he found them ultimately in the last place they never bothered to search: the campfire. 

Y/N was sitting on the ground, hugging their knees. They were looking at the ground. Luke hesitantly walked towards them and sat next to them. The fire crackled as a girl, who was not older than 8, tended to the flames. He could’ve sworn he's never seen this girl in the years he’s been here but that didn’t matter. Y/N sensed someone was next to them, and looked up. Luke sheepishly smiled at them and in turn, Y/N looked away. 

Luke sighed and laid his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes. Y/N didn’t shrug him off, which was a good thing but they weren’t looking at him. They just sat there, the crackling of fire the only thing you could hear as it danced like two lovers in an intense dance for their lives. Silence went by minutes. No one dared making a sound. 

“I’m sorry.” Were the first words that pierced the silence that surrounded them. Luke sat right up and looked at Y/N who was now looking at them with the most heavenly eyes Luke had ever seen. Their eyes were out of this world, it was as if planets and novas were encased in them. But what ruined it was the gloss. Not because of the glossiness of their eyes, but the cause of it. Y/N had been crying. And it was Luke’s fault.

“Why are you apologizing, Ease? It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I embarrassed you. I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. And now here you are, crying. I also promised I wouldn’t make you cry either.” He sighed before putting his forehead on their shoulder, closing his eyes. It was another minute before Y/N spoke again. 

“It’s stupid, Luke. It was petty. And I made it a big deal by leaving. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of the campers. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

The pair looked at each other in lopsided smiles. “We’re both a mess, huh?” He looked at them again with the biggest and doofiest smile he could muster. Then, giggles. Giggling and laughter roared in the air as the two non-verbally apologized to each other. Hugs and jokes were shared that day in front of the bonfire. You couldn’t burn that scene whenever you tried. It was one of the best days the two ever had.

Emphasis on had. Luke thought. Now, he lays there, contemplating the bridge he’d burn from the one good thing in his life. What Luke couldn’t forget the most were their eyes, filled with hate and malice towards him. Seeing them like that felt like the entire world, his entire world, fall apart. And then they left them there standing, forced to pick up the millions of pieces he himself destroyed.

He knew he loved them; he really did. He could lie under oath and people would know he’s being disingenuous. He’d known for a while about what he felt for them. The way he looks at them from a distance as they laugh with their cabin-mates, a smile unconsciously creeps into his lips. The way their eyes drag towards them instinctively in the crowd. The way they put him over themselves and how much they accommodate him. Those were some of the things they loved about Y/N. And it took Chris and the entire Hermes cabin just to make him realize just how much of a love-sick puppy he was. Although he knew of his feelings towards them, just like Y/N though, they were both content in being part of their lives. Just like Y/N, He was scared that he might fuck up if they both got together, and he didn’t want to lose them. So, he convinced himself that keeping them in their lives platonically was the only solution they had. They were both idiots. Laughing at that now, Luke couldn’t help but slap himself in the face. You kept them platonically but you still fucked up. Way to go, Castellan. 

He was surely convinced he was just okay to keep them in their lives platonically. He didn’t even initially plan anything on Valentine's Day. Just hanging out with them and doing nothing was okay for Luke. But as Valentine’s Day crept around the corner, Luke couldn’t help but think of holding their hand that day as fireworks sprayed in the sky, red and white lights dancing and looking down at them. He couldn’t help but dream of holding them in their arms, kissing them on the temple, smiling down at them as they both looked at each other in adoration. He knew he had to make a move, as both were as stubborn as mules. Y/N had always been the one to initiate everything. From hanging out to just lollygagging around camp. Y/N has always been there for him. It was always Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. He swears he could make their name a chant, just to immortalize this being he could’ve sworn was given to him by the Gods themselves. What did he do to deserve such an angel? He doesn’t know. He realized that for once in his life, He wanted to initiate something first.  Not Y/N. Him.

He felt his heart ripping out of his chest, and at that instant, he knew he had to do something. At first, he couldn’t find Aphrodite kids who he was close enough to ask for advice since they were all busy with the Feast. But the Gods smiled down upon him that day, in the form of Louise Clifford-Jacobs. Luke wasted no hesitation asking Louise about what to do on Valentines, the perfect spot in Camp Half-Blood, the perfect food to serve, everything. He was so focused on planning he didn’t realize Y/N was next to him, the last person he hoped to hear him ask an Aphrodite girl about his plans for them. Looking at Y/N and their smile, Luke felt his heart beat in his chest. His ears turned red as the love of their life smiled upon them, like sun rays that greeted you in the morning.  Y/N had wanted to ask him a question, and although he wanted to entertain it, he still had to plan their date. Luke knew he hadn’t had much time but he didn’t wanna make them leave. Sacrifices were needed to be taken, and Luke had asked them to leave. The smile that left Y/N’s face broke his heart, but he had to do something so that his plan wasn’t blown. 

Luke watched as Y/N left and felt a pang, it was as if someone had shot them directly into his chest. Looking at Louise, they instinctively knew they had to make the date as special as ever. 

But all the planning. All gone to waste because Luke had failed to focus on the one good thing he had. He was so intent on making the perfect date he forgot who it was for. And now Luke was just there staring into the abyss of the bunk bed, dejected that not only he lost his best friend, his grand plan was useless now. Maybe he could give the plan to Percy? He wasn’t sure anymore. 

A knock on the door interrupted his brooding, and he sat up to see the last person he expected to see today. Clarisse La Rue, in all her Ares fashion, walked inside and sat next to Luke. She intently looked at Luke, anger pulsing through her veins. Luke gulps in response.

“I wanna punch you so bad, Castellan.” She started. “So, so bad. You don’t know how much you fucked up.”  He flinched. He knew how hard Ares kids’ punches are, but Clarisse’s was deadlier. You could’ve hit him with a stone and it would hurt way less. She continues. “But I won’t.” Luke sat up, confused. If she wasn’t there to hurt him then what? Luke couldn’t wrap around the scenario happening right now.

“Clarisse, if you’re looking for Capture the Flag alliances, go look for someone else. I’m not in the mood to think of strategies nor care for any bartering you're gonna do.” Luke bluntly stated as he plopped his head on his pillow, covering his eyes with his arm. He hears the girl sigh. “As much as I would really like to make an alliance with you, I’m here for Y/N”

This caught the boy’s attention as he sat up again. He stares at Clarisse before she starts to speak. “Look, I’m probably the last person you’d expect to play cupid but goddamn you both are annoying as fuck. I’ll cut to the chase, Castellan. My best friend is fucking in love with you, they just couldn’t admit it because they’ve made their thick skull think they didn’t have a chance with you. It has gotten worse ever since you started your little game of ignoring them. Now, I know you like them too, the way you look at them makes me wanna vomit but whatever. And I know you didn't mean to ignore them. This is all just a big misunderstanding and Idiot 1 and 2 do nothing but brood and sigh all day. I for one think it's annoying as hell.” Clarisse sighs, reclining on the railings of Luke’s bunk. " The point is, I’m not gonna sit around and see them cry over some idiot. Now, get your sad, pathetic ass out of bed and tell me your plan so I can help.”

Luke and Clarisse indeed formed an unlikely alliance. Although not in Capture The Flag, it was for Y/N so it was the next best thing. Luke’s plan was simple: it was a simple dinner date at the camp’s gazebo, with the gazebo facing the lake. Luke used his abilities as a Hermes kid to smuggle in Y/N and his' favorite food. Clarisse, who had connections with Aphrodite kids through her other best friend Silena, had asked them to help Luke with his case. They didn’t hesitate, seeing that love and courtship was their forte. Louise and Silena lead the operation, Luke owing them big time for this. In all of the planning and decorating, Luke had gotten antsy. And Silena was getting rather annoyed. Using her charm speak, she had managed to calm Luke’s nerves. Sighs of relief echoed as Luke decided to sit as far away as the Aphrodite kids and let them do their jobs without looking like a strict supervisor. 

Silena and Clarisse had known for a long time just how much the Hermes boy yearned for Y/N. In fact, the pair were taking bets on who would confess first, with Silena betting that Y/N would meanwhile Clarisse was betting on Luke. In the meantime, it seems like none of them were winning. And they wouldn’t like that now, would they? That’s why they agreed to help him. Though it was the second reason, the real reason why was sweeter, but they would rather be caught dead than admit that.

Whilst Silena and Clarisse helped prepare, they couldn’t help but look back at Luke. His leg wobbled up and down and he kept wringing his hands. Sweat was rolling down his head as his eyes shifted, while silent murmurs left his mouth. In the many years these two have known Luke, they have never seen him like this. He was the epitome of confidence, both in the eyes of his siblings and everyone in the camp. He was ever so self-assured with both his abilities in sword fighting and his abilities as Head Counselor. Yet here he was, a blubbering mess.  It was definitely out of character for him. The two kept snickering every time they looked back at him, and they looked back at each other, rolling their eyes.  This was definitely blackmailing material for the future. 

That night on Valentines Day, the feast had commenced in celebration of the Goddess of Love. With everyone in the dinner pavilion, Chiron had shared their usual pleasantries, and just like clockwork, finally asked everyone to commence the celebration. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes and eating well tonight, courtesy of the Aphrodite cabin, kids who knew they helped in preparations can finally eat up and pat themselves on the back for a job well done. Couples from different cabins were allowed to eat next to each other, as their single siblings watched in horror and disgust. Burning of offerings had also commenced tenfold, with everyone thanking the Goddess of Love for a very successful day. As the celebration goes on, Y/N sat next to their siblings, half of them sitting with their loved ones, while the rest talk amongst themselves. They sat in the middle, aimlessly picking and playing with their food. 

A cough took them out of their state. Clarisse, who was wearing her best red dress, and Silena who absolutely looked stunning in their off-shoulder dress stood next to each other, looking at them. Y/N in turn looked up at them, eyes filled with gloom. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be like that the entire night, Y/N”.

“And what if I was?” They barked in retaliation. They were in no mood to bicker with the daughter of Ares. They weren’t also in a mood to celebrate this supposed-to-be happy occasion. Why would they? They just lost their best friend and the person they have been yearning for in just a week.

“Well, that’s no good now, is it?” both snicker at each other.  They sigh before standing up, back hunched and their arms on the table. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to entertain pranks nor play with matchmakers, no offense Silena” she smiled and nodded back to them.

“Well good news. This is no prank. Silena and I decided that since you’re alone this Valentine’s you could come join us on a little singles bonding.” Y/N raised their eyebrow in suspicion. They had a hunch that whenever these two were together and involved, it wasn’t gonna be pretty. These two, besides them and Clarisse, are partners in crime. And when there’s trouble in the air, Clarisse and Silena are the main culprits.

Y/N sighed however. Despite not being in the mood, they had no plans whatsoever. They were, however, in an entertaining mood. There was nothing to lose. So, they humor them, albeit begrudgingly. They rolled their eyes and looked back at them. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

The girls smile and jump in excitement. Seeing this commotion, they knew something was up. These two were planning something, and Y/N was mentally cursing themselves for agreeing. There was fire in Clarisse’s eyes, and in the many years they’ve known her, they knew exactly what this look was: Determination. A determined Clarisse was dangerous, that they knew. They would stop at nothing to get things done, regardless if it'd kill her or not. An over exaggeration on Y/N’s part but you get the point.  But curiosity was a killer. And well, satisfaction will bring them back.

Silena dragged Y/N away from their table, no one paying mind to them leaving, while Clarisse pushed them forward. They walked and walked until they ended up in the Aphrodite cabin, desolate with no one but themselves. They dragged them to the cabin’s vanity table that was lined with different hair items and products, from hair gel to combs. Aphrodite kids were stacked, and Y/N anxiety never faltered.

“What the hell are you two gonna do to me?” they asked, voice laced with fear. Clarisse’s usual cackle filled the cabin, alongside the sound of a turned-on hair dryer. “Oh c’mon, Y/N liven up. It’s Mom’s Day. I’m giving you a makeover, of course. Courtesy of the entire Aphrodite cabin.” Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror and realized they look utterly horrid. Their hair stuck out in every direction; their eyes red from the constant crying. Eyebags evident from the lack of sleep. Silena was right, They thought. They did look like a mess.

 “Think of it as self-care, Y/N. As the Head Councilor of the Aphrodite cabin, we are humbly your fairy godmothers for the evening.  I’m gonna make sure you look perfect and stunning. Now. Face the mirror.”  

Silena was right. Y/N did look perfect right now. They looked the best they’ve ever been ever since they entered camp, hell, even before they were homeless. One word can describe them right now and it was this: Ethereal. They looked like you could put them in Olympus and no one would be any wiser, no, scratch that, they looked more than just a God. They looked like a celestial being. Silena and Clarisse couldn’t help but gawk at their joint masterpiece and Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror, basking in their appearance. 

Y/N couldn’t help it as a tear rolled down their cheek, which Silena tsked before wiping it off. “Someone who looks celestial tonight has no right to cry. Look at you!” Both Clarisse and Silena were now beside them, and they gawked once more at them. Their confidence skyrocketed ten-fold, and by God they didn’t think they were even capable of looking like so. They looked at both Clarisse and Silena, nodding at them, eyes closed, feeling ever so grateful for their job tonight. But they knew the night wasn’t over, and without hesitation, Clarisse took their hand and led them out the cabin.

It was a short walk and before they knew it, they reached the lit gazebo. Y/N’s eyes sparkled as they stared in awe at the decorations that littered it, fairy lights in little jars, red and white clothes draped at the roof of the gazebo. Food was on the rose petal decorated table, with a beautiful table setting with handkerchiefs folded into swans. But that wasn’t the only thing that was in there. A curly haired boy sat on one of the tables, dressed in a suit, looking down and twiddling with their thumbs. Luke. They thought.

All the happiness they felt have now dissipated, and fury once again taken hold of them. “What the hell is this?” They spat venom, and the pair couldn’t help but flinch in retaliation. Looking up, Luke saw Y/N, and he couldn’t help but gawk at them. Luke had always known Y/N was ethereal, but with Silena and Clarisse’s help, they were all of a sudden out of this world. It was as if Y/N embodied Aphrodite, you can even say moreso, however you wouldn’t catch Luke saying that aloud. All the gawking Luke did however, was ruined when they saw their face. They were infuriated. Angry that they were tricked by Silena and Clarisse. Angry at him. 

Luke wasted no time and made a beeline towards Y/N. "What is he doing here?” Y/N asks Silena and Clarisse, and the duo stayed quiet, looking at Luke for help. Luke sighs, putting both his hands up near his chest, a sign that he wasn’t there to put up a fight. “Don’t get mad at them, Ease. They helped me.  I asked them to trick you. I’m sorry.”

“I told you that I didn’t wanna see you anymore, Luke.” “I know that but please hear me out.” Without saying a word, Y/N began to turn around and walk away. Who wouldn’t be pissed? The last person they wanted to see right now was standing there, whilst they recruited their other friends to basically trick them into seeing him. To say they were pissed was an understatement. 

Not wanting for Y/N to leave before he explained himself, he grabs their arm. The touch felt electric to Y/N as they spun around as Luke held them. And for the first time in a while, Y/N’s expression softened. It had been days since the two had hung out, let alone seen each other. The fight had made them more distant than before, and Y/N couldn’t help but yearn for Luke’s touch. As skin contacts skin, his touch made them putty, and all the anger they’ve kept just seemingly dissipated, and there was nothing left but yearning. Painful, painful yearning. 

“Please, Y/N hear me out. I promise I’ll make it worthwhile.” Y/N closed their eyes, sighing. Y/N knew Luke was their weakness, it had always been. And as he stood there holding them, all thoughts were officially lost. They nodded, and Luke for the first time in a while had his signature smile plastered on their face.

Luke looks at Y/N’s eyes, enamored as the lights from the gazebo danced in it. The more he stared at their eyes, they felt like a moth drawn to the flame. He could stare at it forever, like how Narcissus looked at his reflection in the water, but Luke had to snap out of it, and finish the hell that he had started.

“Listen, Ease. In the years I’ve lived on this Earth, I’ve recognized just how much I’ve fucked up. I was very much aware of how much I’ve done so. With Hal, with…Thalia.” Luke looked at the ground, tears began welling in his eyes. Y/N, who looked at him with adoration, wasted no time putting their hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to them. Luke looks at Y/N, before laughing, tears betraying him as they rush down like a waterfall. Y/N’s expressions softened even more, as they used their thumb to swipe any more tears that dared leave Luke’s eyes. A nod left Y/N, encouraging Luke to continue. The gesture made Luke a little more courageous, as he swallowed, before continuing. “With dad’s quest. I knew how much of a fuckup I was. I was always aware, and for some odd reason, when the consequences of these fuck-ups arise, I just ignore them. Not the healthiest option I know but I just stopped giving a fuck, you know? It is what it is mentality.”  As he looked at Y/N, he took their hands into his, and suddenly yet all at once, it felt exhilarating. Their hand in his felt bright and warm, a feeling both of them never felt before. In that moment, they both seemed to forget all the troubles, trials and tribulations they’ve experienced, and what matters right now were just the two of them, in that moment, a scene like in a movie.

“But seeing you walk away like that with the angriest and furious eyes with tears cascading down your face, I realized something.” He breathes out as his grip on their hands tighten, it was as if at any minute, Luke would lose them, like they would drift away from them, never to be seen again. “I realized that out of all the fuck ups I did, hurting you was the worst one I’ve ever done. In that moment, I realized that making you feel alone and small was the biggest fuck-up I have ever done. For the first time, It felt as if some part of me died that day. Out of all the mistakes I've done in my life, you were the only one I was willing to fix."

Luke adoringly stepped forward more, and the space between them left as if it never existed. Luke moved his hands to their forearm, and in turn they put their hand on his chest. “You, Ease, made me realize that out of everything in my life, you’ve become the only thing I got right. I could forget everything, and you’d still be the only constant I’m thankful the Gods had given me. You're the only one who has seen the reds and the blues of my life and despite everything, you just burned them all up. And you, with all your love for an idiot like me, kissed them goodbye.”

“I’m here to fix things between us, Ease. Let it be known that I’m not willing to give you away that easily. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. So please, I hope you forgive me.”

Y/N, upon hearing Luke’s words, couldn’t help but allow the tears to fall from their eyes. Overwhelmed with emotions, they wasted no time putting their arms around him, sobbing as they cling on to him, scared that they might fall away from them. It took Luke a minute before wrapping their arms around them as well, swinging them back and forth as the pair laughed and giggled in each other’s presence. Tears and smiles were shared amongst the pair, and Luke, smitten in love, broke the contact first, his hands on Y/N’s waist. The pair basked at each other’s presence with adoration, as they stood there, foreheads touching.  Y/N’s hands crept once again to Luke’s face and in that moment, as they looked at each other, time stood still, silence washed over them. “Ease, I promise you, you won’t regret it.” He giddily smiles at them, and they chuckle. 

“I know I won’t.” Y/N replies. Luke leans in, and in sync, their lips move against each other. The pair melted in each other as Y/N placed their hands on their neck. Y/N’s lips were soft. Luke thought. And a smile crept into his lips as his dreams of what their lips felt like on his was now in fruition. Electricity filled the air as the two savored each other, apologies and I love yous passed back and forth with each kiss. It was invigorating, the pair thought. He parts his lips for them, allowing each other to explore and satiate the hunger they had for each other. Their hands slipped into his curly hair and in turn, Luke pulled them towards his body more.

They broke apart after a few minutes, the two catching their breath. As they looked at each other, a sudden boom made their heads snap towards the sky. Red and white lights danced in the sky, covering the entire valley with the Love Goddess’ colors. The two looked up at the sky in adoration as they held onto each other, Luke’s head on their shoulder as they laid their head on his, with Luke’s arms around their waist and their hands resting on top of his. 

Silena and Clarisse watch on as their friends bask in each other’s presence, and in turn they look at each other. Clarisse held out a hand, and Silena couldn’t help but groan as they fished in their pockets, placing a few drachmas on the God of War’s child's palm. Clarisse nodded a thank you to Silena, before both of them left to give the two some deserved privacy.

Never in the million years Luke would think the Gods would give him someone, let alone a person who loved all of him. Y/N, his North Star, his tether, his world. He didn't expect them, out of everyone, to now be in his arms, fully embracing the feeling they had for each other that they were so afraid to admit before. Now, as his name fell from Y/N’s mouth, he smiles as he basked at the moment, silently thanking the Gods for this one. And maybe, just maybe he thinks, he can forget about why he hated the Gods in the first place.

[heechwe]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘 - 𝖎.

ʚɞ pairing: park jihyo x fem!reader ʚɞ word count: 0.3k ʚɞ genre: fluff ʚɞ tags: college!au ʚɞ synopsis: It was love at first sip, and second, and third.

You were stunned to say the least that Jihyo, the cute girl from your philosophy class, was sitting at your usual table in the smoothie shop on campus. Her drink seems to be either strawberry or raspberry from the pink tinge inside of the plastic cup, but it could have been your least favorite flavor and you still would admire her taste all the same. The most important part's her presence and how beautiful she looks both in and out of class.

Jihyo's hair's in a ponytail and she's wearing some form of workout gear, potentially meaning she was either coming from or planning to go to a workout session. Beautiful, smart, conscious about her health...she was perfect.

She looks up and smiles at you in passing, head turning back to the book she's reading. Your heart stops at her acknowledgement of your existence, and it jumps back to life when she looks up again at you in recognition.

She says your name with a smile and waves you over. Without thinking twice, you walk quickly over to your booth, your crush commendeering it as her own. "Now I remember! You argued with the professor about medical ethics."

You chuckle and clutch your smoothie tighter. The condensation from the drink mixes with the sweat on your palm. "Yeah, I don't get so easily heated, but you know how it can be in discussions."

"Right," she says, laughing. Her eyes motion towards the empty seat at her booth. "You want to sit? No fun to drink a smoothie alone, right?"

You swallow the anxious knot in your throat and sit down in front of her. Was this real? Was she actually interested in talking to you more?

"What flavor did you get?"

"Blueberry pomegranate," you reply.

"I knew I should've gotten that one! I picked strawberry kiwi." She takes your drink from your hand and takes a long sip from your cup, looking you in the eyes the entire time.

Was she fucking flirting?

The answer seems to come in her infectious smirk. "Your smoothie is definitely better than mine."

You pluck up every ounce of courage you can and offer, "How about I buy you a new cup? You can spot me on the next one."

She nods, a dimple appearing. "I'd like that."

[spotsupstuff]

day 15

Moon, I need you to develop arachnophobia or smth pronto and do *any*thing about your damn underhang. I can't handle it

[roleyartnstuff]

POV: Caper of Euros looking at his lovely wife

@spotsupstuff's AU shitposting cuz i still love this god damn AU so much...

-Original image below-

[elysiaheaven]

KC band au where reader is someone they chose from an audition to be a drummer kek…

ANGEL-GOTHIC! KILLER CHAT X READER! BAND AU!

Band AU Character Introductions: Angelgothic

Ronin (Electric Guitarist, Main Member): he/him Now playing!-"Ghost Rule"

"Rolling Girl" Lost One’s Weeping" Unhappy Refrain" Tokyo Teddy Bear" "Blessing"

Ronin stands tall at 6'1" with a devil-may-care attitude that could rival any rock star stereotype. His plum-colored hair peeks out from beneath his worn black beanie, and he’s almost always clad in dark clothes that lean heavily into an alternative, punk-goth aesthetic. Tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his ripped shirts, telling stories no one dares ask about. Known for being post-ironic, Ronin oozes confidence and sarcasm, loving to toy with people’s expectations. He has an intimidating, haunting presence that lingers even after he leaves the room. Despite his rough exterior, there’s something enigmatic about him that keeps people guessing—and intrigued.

Specialty: Wicked guitar solos that leave the audience breathless. Personality Highlight: Snarky and complex, hides deeper traumas under layers of wit and punk. Fixing is different from healing!

Angel (Lead Singer): she/her Now playing! "World is Mine"

"Tell Your World" – "Melt" ."Miracle Paint" – Not Allowed" (ダメダメよ) "Starduster" World's End Dancehall

Angel is the heart and soul of the band, known for her magnetic stage presence and a voice that can switch from angelic to ferocious in seconds. She has blonde, hair and wears outfits that are a blend of edgy and ethereal, playing into her stage name. Her optimism and warmth make her the glue that keeps the band from falling apart during tough times. Offstage, she’s the type who remembers birthdays, brings snacks to practice, and makes sure everyone feels like part of the team. But she has her moments of introspection, shadows that creep into her usually sunny demeanor. Specialty: Bringing raw emotion to every performance. Personality Highlight: Sweet with a strong backbone; can stand up to anyone when it matters. Misaki (Bass Guitarist): she/they! Now playing! Electric Angel

"Remote Control" "Ageage Again" "Nijigen Dream Fever" "Romeo and Cinderella" "Teo" by Omoi

Misaki is chaos personified, with short, choppy hair carrying an aura of wild energy. They’re nonbinary and switch between fashion styles effortlessly, sometimes punk, sometimes glam. Misaki has a sharp grin and a knack for stirring the pot, whether it’s with mischievous pranks or daring antics on stage. They keep practice sessions lively and are always the first to suggest taking a break for spontaneous dance-offs. However, behind their playful exterior is someone who fiercely protects those they care about. Specialty: Killer bass riffs that pulse with infectious energy. Personality Highlight: Jokester with an unyielding loyalty; wild but deeply caring. V (Pianist): he/him

Now playing!-"The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku

"The Thought to Relinquish" "Judgement of Corruption" by KEMU VOXX

"Senbonzakura" "Dark Woods Circus" "Two-Faced Lovers" "Kagerou Days"

V is the brooding genius of the group, with a cold exterior that hides a mind working a thousand miles an hour. Tall, with dark, neatly kept hair and sharp eyes, he exudes an air of mystery and meticulousness. He dresses in clean-cut, dark clothing, looking more like a classical pianist than a heavy metal musician—an image he subverts with hauntingly powerful keyboard solos. V is quiet and doesn’t give away much, choosing his words carefully and never indulging in small talk. His rivalry with Ronin is palpable, fueled by differing philosophies and a history they never talk about. Specialty: Complex and dramatic piano accompaniments that give the band a unique edge. Personality Highlight: Stoic and highly intelligent; has a deep, hidden care for his bandmates.

Other characters!

Vince (Manager): Vince is the brains behind the operation, a sharp-eyed man with a penchant for sharp suits. He’s dedicated, resourceful, and knows the industry inside out. Vince has a strong bond with the band, even though he often has to play the role of the exasperated parent. He believes in Angelgothic’s potential and pushes them hard to reach it, but he’s also the first one to show up with support when things go south. Specialty: Business acumen, organizing tours, and keeping the band in line. Personality Highlight: Strict but supportive; a true believer in the band’s potential. Ai Hua (Boss’s Wife & Band Caretaker): Ai Hua is a warm, motherly figure who makes sure the band is well-fed and looked after. Though she isn’t officially part of the crew, she’s a comforting presence at gigs and practices. With a love for music herself, she enjoys watching Angelgothic’s growth and often gives them pep talks before big performances. Specialty: Bringing stability and emotional support. Personality Highlight: Kind, nurturing, but with a hidden fire when it comes to defending those she cares about.

PLAYLIST! FOR THEM! "Magnet" (with Luka Megurine) "From Y to Y" "Cantarella" Luca and Feli Just fans and "friends" Luca x Feli now playing!

"Wave" by Lily "Sayonara Memories" by Supercell (feat. Hatsune Miku) "Blue Star" by Hatsune Miku "World is Mine" (Soft Version) "Meteor" by Hatsune Miku Main lover!-you! (Y/N) (Drummer): (Y/N) embodies resilience with a rebellious streak, decked out in an emo style that reflects the turmoil and drive inside them. They grew up under strict, judgmental eyes, enduring the suffocating expectations of a religious upbringing that clashed with their true self. Every beat they strike is a declaration of independence and defiance, heavy with the promise to prove themselves and silence those who doubted them. When they auditioned, (Y/N) brought an energy that shook the room and a confidence that masked their jagged edges. Specialty: Thunderous drumming that adds explosive energy to the band’s sound. Personality Highlight: Charismatic with hidden depths; driven by passion and a need to belong.

Now playing!?

"ODDS&ENDS"

"1/6 -out of the gravity-"

Ura-omote Lovers"

PoPiPo"

"Love is War"

This is part 1! Let me know if i should continue this!

You stood outside the worn-down building, heart pounding in your chest like a drum, a mixture of excitement and anxiety bubbling within you. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for. After countless auditions, you’d finally made it here to audition for a band, and not just any band, but one called Angelgothic. The name alone sent shivers down your spine, resonating with your desires for rebellion and expression.

You’ve always wanted to be part of a band. Ever since you were a kid, the beats and riffs of heavy metal resonated with you, making you feel alive in a world that felt hell-bent on crushing your spirit. Your parents, however, saw it as nothing but a phase—something associated with rebellion, with styles they deemed inappropriate and sinful. It didn’t matter to them that music was your refuge, your sanctuary. It was just another thing to add to their list of disappointments.

Growing up in a strict household, your parents had never understood your love for heavy metal, the powerful beats and raw lyrics that spoke to your soul. You’d spent your teenage years confined within the walls of a Christian school, where the teachers preached about righteousness while you sat in the back, doodling skulls and flowers in your notebook, dreaming of a life drenched in black leather and screaming guitars. They didn’t just push you away from music; they tried to erase who you were, constantly reminding you that your style was unacceptable, that your dreams were foolish. They wanted you to be perfect, but perfect wasn’t a cage, it was a prison, and you’d had enough.

Ever since you were a kid, your heart beat to the rhythm of heavy metal, drowning out the judgmental whispers of your parents and the cruel laughter of your peers. They never understood your passion for the dark and gritty side of life; to them, it was just a phase. But you were determined to break free from the shackles of their expectations. You wanted to prove them wrong.

Every night, you’d sneak into your room, blasting the music that made your soul sing—the harsh chords and thunderous drums calling to you. You longed to be part of a band, to unleash your frustrations on the drum kit, to feel the vibrations of the music pulsate through your veins. But life was shit. Your parents had made it clear: heavy metal was a sin. So you kept your dreams hidden, nurturing them in the shadows.

You had auditioned for countless bands, hoping to find a place to belong, only to be turned away time and time again. But then came the fateful day you heard about Angelgothic—a new band formed by talented individuals who had faced their own struggles. You felt a spark of hope ignite in your chest. This could be your chance.

You walked through the doors of the rehearsal space, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. You were about to meet the people you would be sharing the stage with, and while the fear of rejection crept in, the thrill of potential success pushed it aside. You had to prove to your parents that you could make it, that you were more than just a disappointment.

What you saw left you breathless.

There he was—Ronin. He was mesmerizing, his hands moving fluidly over the strings of his electric guitar, a devilish grin plastered on his face. The music he played was intoxicating, a dark melody that resonated with the chaos you felt inside. His hair fell just above his eyes, a wild plum color that contrasted against the stark black of his clothing. Everything about him screamed rebellion and artistry, and you found yourself completely captivated.

When you entered the room, you were hit by the sound of electric guitars screaming with energy. The sight of the band was overwhelming. Ronin, the electric guitarist, was in the middle of a solo, hair falling over his face as he played with an intensity that made your heart race. There was something devilish about the way he moved, a magnetism that drew you in. He was the embodiment of everything you adored about the heavy metal scene. You felt your cheeks heat as you watched him, feeling as if you had fallen in love at first sight.

Misaki, the bass guitarist, was energetically keeping up with the rhythm, her fiery spirit contagious. V, the pianist, added a layer of complexity to the sound, his fingers dancing over the keys like a master magician. And Angel, the singer, poured her heart into every note, her voice echoing through the room with a passion that sent shivers down your spine.

You watched in awe as the band played, feeling a connection to the music that coursed through your veins. It was raw, it was powerful, and it was everything you had ever wanted. You felt a sense of hope blossom within you—maybe this was your chance, your opportunity to finally become part of something great.

But then, reality struck. You remembered the trepidation that followed you everywhere. Your parents’ disapproving faces flashed in your mind, the words of your teachers ringing in your ears. “You’re wasting your time. You’ll never make it.” Doubt crept in, threatening to suffocate the excitement bubbling within you.

You took a moment to catch your breath, soaking in the atmosphere. V, the pianist, was in the corner, his fingers dancing across the keys, lost in his own world. He seemed cold and distant, the kind of person who might look right through you if you dared to make eye contact. Misaki was chaotic, dancing around the room with a laugh that was infectious, as if she were filled with pure energy. And then there was Angel, the singer—her voice cut through the air, sweet and powerful, a combination that felt like a promise of what was to come.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and you felt like a deer caught in headlights. Ronin turned slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, piercing through the haze of uncertainty. The room went quiet, the air thick with tension as everyone’s gaze shifted to you.

Now, Ronin noticed you. His eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against his guitar, looking you up and down. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little lost lamb wandering into the devil’s den?”

You felt your stomach twist with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. He was teasing, and there was something about that glimmer in his eyes that both frightened and excited you. It was a challenge, and you weren’t about to back down. “Just here to audition,” you said, trying to sound confident despite the fluttering in your chest.

“Is that so?” He crossed his arms, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You think you can keep up with us? We’re not just any band; we’re Angelgothic. We bring chaos, darling.”

“Please, Ronin, be nice,” Angel interjected, her voice soothing like a gentle breeze. “You know we need a drummer, and if they made it this far, they must have some talent. What's your name?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m Y/N,” you managed, feeling a bit out of place but excited nonetheless.

“Awesome! We’re about to take a break. Why don’t you grab a seat?” she suggested, motioning to an empty chair nearby. You nodded and settled in, your heart racing as you tried to absorb everything happening around you.

The band took a break, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Ronin. He caught your eye and flashed you a smile that made your heart race. Your stomach flipped, and you could feel a warmth spreading across your cheeks. Was it possible you had fallen for him just like that? You couldn’t help but admire how he seemed so comfortable in his skin, exuding a confidence you wished you had.

“What brings you here, Y/N?” Angel asked, her voice sweet and melodic

You couldn’t help but admire how Angel balanced the chaotic energy in the room with her sweet nature. She exuded warmth, making you feel more welcome. But Ronin wasn’t done with his game. He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing, “You do look a little… emo for our style. What’s your story, huh?”

You felt your heart race at his words. Here was this handsome devil of a guitarist, flirting and taunting you all at once. “Just someone who got tired of being told I couldn’t be myself,” you said, trying to inject some attitude into your response. “I want to be in a band and prove everyone wrong.”

Ronin’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Rebel against the system, huh? I can respect that. But can you really handle being in a band with a bunch of misfits like us?”

Misfits. That was the perfect description. You had always felt like an outsider, the black sheep of your family, especially after years spent in religious schools that drilled the idea of conformity into your head. The trauma of being told you were wrong for wanting to express yourself in any way lingered like a dark cloud overhead. But here, surrounded by these musicians, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe you could carve out a place for yourself after all.

“I’ve handled worse,” you replied, smirking back at him. “Besides, if I wanted to play it safe, I wouldn’t be here.”

Misaki burst into laughter, and V, still focused on his piano, rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “Spunky, I like that, Vince is back, Let's see how you do!"

Um! What! Oh shit! This is it! Breathe y/n! Breathe!

The rehearsal came to an end, the energy in the room was electric. Ronin had been relentless with his teasing, as usual, throwing playful jabs at you and challenging your confidence. You could tell he wanted to push your buttons, testing how far he could go before you snapped back at him. But there was something about it that felt… invigorating.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, drummer,” Ronin said, leaning against his guitar with an amused smirk. “I hope you’re not just here to play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ because I might have to kick you out of the band myself.” His tone was teasing, and you rolled your eyes, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” you shot back, your ego rising as you felt a surge of determination. This was your chance to show them what you could really do, to prove that you belonged here among the chaos of Angelgothic.

Angel, with her ever-supportive nature, jumped in to defend you. “Come on, Ronin, give them a break! We all know they’ve got talent.” She shot him a look, her hands on her hips as if to say, “Don’t mess with my new friend.”

Ronin feigned innocence, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, Saint Maria, I’ll be nice. For now.” The rest of the band chuckled, and the atmosphere lightened as everyone settled down to watch you.

“Alright, (Y/N), we want to hear what you’ve got!” Misaki exclaimed, bouncing on her heels with excitement. Her chaotic energy was contagious, and you felt your heart race with anticipation.

“Yeah, show us what you can do!” V added, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Though his tone was cool, you could sense the underlying interest in his words. It was a rare moment of encouragement from the usually aloof pianist.

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained on you. You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced it. You took a deep breath, letting the rhythm of your heart guide you. This was what you had always wanted—a chance to prove yourself.

“Alright, Ronin,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me.” You picked up your drumsticks and took your position behind the kit, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Better not play something lame like ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep,’” Ronin quipped, his voice dripping with mockery.

With a smirk, you launched into a rhythm, the sticks flying through the air as you brought the drums to life. You started off slow, teasing the beat, but then you cranked up the energy, drumming like you were channeling every ounce of passion that had been pent up inside you.

The sound echoed around the room, and soon Ronin couldn’t help but join in, his guitar weaving seamlessly into the rhythm you created. His playful demeanor faded as he focused on the music, the atmosphere shifting from playful banter to serious collaboration. You could see the spark in his eyes as he began to lose himself in the moment, the two of you creating something electric together.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” he shouted, a grin breaking across his face. The way you drummed made his laughter fill the air, invigorating the energy in the room. You poured everything into the performance, the adrenaline surging through your veins as you locked into the groove with Ronin.

Misaki bounced along with the beat, she joined in on her bass guitar, matching your intensity with her chaotic style. “YES! SLAY!” she cheered, the excitement radiating from her. You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling like a part of something bigger than yourself.

V picked up the piano keys next, adding a melodic layer that wrapped around the rhythm like a warm embrace. His cold exterior melted away as the music filled the space, and you could tell he was enjoying this as much as the rest of you. The synergy between the four of you was palpable, and it felt like you were creating magic in that moment.

When you finally ended the song, a triumphant crescendo of sound echoing in the rehearsal space, the room erupted in applause. Misaki dashed over, wrapping her arms around you in an enthusiastic hug. “You’re so good!” she exclaimed, squeezing you tightly, her chaotic energy wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Thanks, Misaki!” you laughed, feeling elated by the praise.

V, maintaining his cool demeanor, nodded slightly. “You did well,” he said, his voice steady. It was as close to a compliment as you would likely ever get from him, and it made your heart swell with pride.

“Still not that great, but you’ll survive,” Ronin teased, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. You shot him a mock glare, your competitive spirit flaring up. You wanted to kick his nose, honestly.

“Shut up, Ronin,” you said, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your irritation.

Angel laughed softly, shaking her head. “If you keep this up, we might just have to keep you around,” she said, her tone light but her eyes serious.

The band exchanged glances, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Did they really want you to stay? You couldn’t help but feel a swell of hope, a flicker of possibility igniting in your chest.

Vince, the band’s manager, watched the scene unfold with a thoughtful expression. He exchanged glances with Ai Hua, who stood nearby with a supportive smile. After a moment of consideration, he approached you, extending his hand for a shake. “I think we’ve found our new drummer,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Welcome to Angelgothic!”

You couldn’t believe it. Your heart soared as you accepted his handshake, feeling like you had finally found your place. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!” you shouted, your excitement bubbling over.

“Yasss!” Misaki cheered, jumping up and down. “We’re going to be the best band ever!”

Ronin pretended to roll his eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. “Just remember, I’ll always be watching you, (Y/N). Don’t think you can slack off just because you’re part of the band now.”

The laughter in the rehearsal space began to fade, Ronin crossed his arms, leaning back against his guitar with that ever-present smirk still plastered across his face. “You think you’re just going to waltz in here and take my spot without a fight? I’m gonna give you a hard time, (Y/N).” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it that made you gulp involuntarily.

But you weren’t going to let him see any fear. You straightened your posture, plastering on your best “womanizer” face, filled with bravado. “Okay, bring it on! Just remember, if you keep messing with me, does that mean you’re a little obsessed?” You winked, reveling in the challenge you had thrown his way.

The room fell silent for a split second, all eyes shifting to Ronin, who seemed unfazed by your cheeky comeback. He just leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Obsessed? Please, I’m just trying to keep you on your toes. Wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable.” His smirk deepened, and you could see the playful fire in his gaze, but the tension in the room crackled with something deeper.

Nudging Misaki with your elbow, you added, “NGL, you remind me of that guy from Heathers, JD. You’ve got that whole ‘dark and brooding’ vibe down pat. How do you feel about it?”

At the mention of the character, Ronin’s expression shifted, a dark look crossing his features that sent a chill down your spine. It was a split second, but you caught it—a glimpse of something more intense behind his playful facade. Angel must have sensed it too because she immediately pulled you aside, her voice low and conspiratorial.

“Oh, you just did emotional damage to him,” she whispered, barely containing her giggles. “He’s definitely gonna hold that against you.” You wanted to glance back at Ronin, curious about his reaction, but Angel shook her head vigorously, a teasing grin on her face.

“Nope! Keep looking forward! Trust me, it’s better that way!” she said, leading you away as Misaki snorted in laughter, clearly enjoying the whole scene. You couldn’t help but smile at the chaos surrounding you.

“Come on, I’ll show you around the studio!” Angel continued, her excitement infectious as she dragged you further into the space. As she pointed out different areas—the sound booth, the lounge where the band often hung out, and the practice rooms—you felt your nervousness begin to melt away.

You walked through the studio, Angel, always the enthusiastic one, decided it was time for proper introductions. She spun around to face you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Alright, it’s time for everyone to introduce themselves properly! I mean, you’re going to be part of our little chaotic family now, after all!”

Ronin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smirk as he observed. “Sure, but don’t be surprised if I don’t like you after this,” he quipped, the playful edge still evident in his tone. You rolled your eyes at his antics but couldn’t suppress a smile; it was all part of the game with him, and you were more than willing to play along.

“Okay, I’ll start!” Angel beamed, clearly thrilled to take the lead. “I’m Angel, the voice of this band. I’m basically the sunshine in this chaotic mess, and I can’t wait to work with you!” She was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to Ronin's cold front.

“V here,” the pianist said next, his tone cool and detached. “I’m the one who adds depth to our sound, or so they say. Nice to meet you.” He didn’t seem particularly invested, but his presence carried a quiet intensity that intrigued you.

“Yup, and I’m Misaki!” she chirped, bouncing on her feet. “I’m the chaos factor and the bass guitarist! If you ever need a partner in crime or someone to annoy Ronin with, I’m your lover!” She winked at you, her energy infectious.

Finally, it was your turn. You took a deep breath, channeling your inner Britney Spears, ready to be bold and sassy. “I’m (Y/N), the new drummer in this delightful chaos. I’m here to prove to my parents that I’m more than just a rebellious phase,” you said, matching Angel’s enthusiasm but adding a cheeky wink of your own. “And for good luck, I think we need to introduce ourselves again!”

The room fell silent for a moment, then erupted into laughter. Ronin, arms still crossed, rolled his eyes. “Oh great, just what we need—more introductions. Can’t wait to hear your sob story again, (Y/N).” He was being insufferable, but you loved it.

“Hey, if you don’t like it, you can just leave,�� you shot back, the confidence surging through you. “Besides, I’d love to hear everyone’s sob stories. It’s like a twisted group therapy session!”

Misaki clapped her hands in delight. “Yes! I love this idea! Ronin, you first!”

“Absolutely not. I’d rather you all didn’t hear my tragic backstory,” he retorted, his tone sarcastic but the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. You could see that even beneath his facade, he was intrigued by your spirit.

“C’mon, Ronin! It’ll be fun!” Angel chimed in, clearly not ready to let him off the hook. “And it’s only fair since we’re all sharing!”

With the pressure on, Ronin sighed dramatically, finally giving in. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m a dark, brooding enigma that doesn’t need pity or sympathy, especially from someone like you, (Y/N).”

“Oh please, if you were a real enigma, you wouldn’t be making such a big deal about it,” you teased, your voice laced with playful sarcasm. “But go ahead, I’m all ears.”

Ronin opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly trying to find the right words. “Let’s just say I’m a misunderstood genius with a tragic past,” he finally said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Boring!” Misaki shouted, her laughter ringing through the room. “Angel, you go next!”

The introductions continued, the camaraderie grew. You felt a warmth spreading through you—a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Each person shared their quirks and stories, and even if Ronin continued to act like a jerk, you could tell he was intrigued by you.

The laughter and chatter subsided, Angel’s bright voice rang out again. “Alright, since you’re our new drummer, we think it’s only fair that you choose someone to look after you! It’s a big responsibility being in this band, and we want to make sure you’re taken care of!”

Everyone turned to face you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and expectation. The weight of their gazes made your heart race, but you couldn’t help but feel a thrill at being the center of attention. You bit your lip, weighing your options carefully.

“Who’s it gonna be, (Y/N)? You have to pick someone!” Misaki exclaimed, practically bouncing on her feet. “Choose wisely; you might get stuck with someone really weird!” She flashed a cheeky grin at Ronin, who rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Great, just what I need—a babysitter,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You glanced at each of them, your mind racing with possibilities.

V stood off to the side, arms crossed, his expression cold yet contemplative. Despite his detached demeanor, you sensed an undercurrent of interest in his eyes. “I may not be the warmest person, but I’ll keep an eye on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Just don’t expect me to hold your hand.” There was a strange comfort in his straightforwardness, and you could tell he meant what he said, even if he had a unique way of showing it.

Then there was Angel, radiant and sweet as ever, her smile infectious. “Oh, I would love to look after you!” she gushed, stepping closer. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need, and I’ll be here to cheer you on! Plus, we can totally have girl talk whenever you want!” The warmth in her voice made you feel safe, and the thought of having her as a supporter was undeniably tempting.

Misaki leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “C’mon, you know you want me to be your guardian! I’ll make sure you have a blast, and I won’t let anyone mess with you! Plus, I have snacks!” She flashed a playful wink, making it hard to resist her chaotic charm. The thought of Misaki by your side filled you with excitement—she’d definitely keep things interesting.

Finally, there was Ronin. He watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his expression a mix of amusement and something darker. “You know I’d make the best choice. I’d keep you on your toes, and you’d never get bored,” he teased, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Besides, who else would challenge you the way I do?” There was an undeniable allure in his confidence, even if he did come off as a bit of a jerk.

The room was silent as everyone awaited your decision. You took a deep breath, glancing from one person to the next, each offering their own unique promise of companionship and support.

After a moment of deliberation, you felt your heart race as you finally spoke up, ready to make your choice. “Alright, I’ve made my decision!”

If you choose V: “I think I’ll go with V. I could use someone steady and reliable.” The moment the words left your mouth, you saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he masked it with his usual cool demeanor.

If you choose Angel: “Angel, I’d love for you to look after me!” You grinned, and her face lit up with delight.

If you choose Misaki: “Misaki! I want you as my guardian!” You laughed at her excited squeal as she jumped up and down.

If you choose Ronin: “I’m going with Ronin. I think he’ll keep things... interesting.” A teasing smile spread across your face as Ronin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your choice.

If you chose V:

V’s expression shifted slightly, his cool facade cracking just enough for a hint of a smile to appear. “Interesting choice,” he remarked, his voice steady. “Just remember, I’m not a hugger, and I prefer silence over chatter.” The others chuckled at his classic V-ness, but you could see the glint of approval in his eyes. “But if you need someone to help you focus or keep you out of trouble, I suppose I can manage.” He inclined his head slightly, making you feel like you’d made a wise decision.

If you chose Angel:

Angel squealed with delight, clapping her hands together. “Yay! I’m so excited!” She bounced on her toes, her enthusiasm lighting up the room. “We’re going to have so much fun! I’ll make sure you have everything you need—snacks, a cozy spot to hang out, and I’ll always be your biggest fan!” Her bright personality radiated warmth, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her infectious energy. It felt reassuring to know she’d be there to support you through the ups and downs of being in the band.

If you chose Misaki:

“YES! Finally, someone who knows how to have fun!” Misaki exclaimed, launching herself at you for a quick hug. “We’re going to make this band the wildest one ever!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she pulled back and grabbed your hand. “Get ready for spontaneous dance parties and chaotic practice sessions! You’re gonna love it!” Her chaotic energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh, already picturing all the shenanigans that awaited you.

If you chose Ronin:

Ronin’s smirk widened, a glimmer of intrigue flickering in his eyes. “Oh? You want me to look after you?” he teased, leaning closer with a playful yet slightly sinister grin. “I hope you’re ready for a wild ride, then. I promise to make you tougher.” The others rolled their eyes, but you could feel the heat of his gaze. “Just remember, I don’t do hand-holding. You’ll have to keep up with me.” There was a strange mix of challenge and allure in his words, and you found yourself oddly excited at the prospect of navigating this complicated dynamic with him.

The banter continued, everyone began to settle into their roles, the energy in the room shifting from uncertainty to an electric thrill. It felt like a new chapter was opening, and you were eager to dive headfirst into this chaotic world filled with music, friendships, and the occasional drama.

“Welcome to Angelgothic, (Y/N),” Vince said, a proud smile on his face. “You’ve officially joined our crazy family.”

The acceptance from everyone made your heart swell with happiness.

part 2!

W-what you- k-killed somone?! You h-have blood?!

"Look, sweetheart, you see this crowbar? It’s got your name written all over it. You’re just a drummer, just like the last one. And trust me, he didn’t end well. So unless you want to end up just like him, keep your mouth shut. I’ve got no patience for some whiny emo loser ruining our lives. Got it?”

Congrats Y/n! You did join a hell-den!

If this post is good, I'll do a part 2! Until then!

[yunacoeur]

loser in love - kim taerae

a/n: i’ve been working on this for about a week now and it’s still shorter than i expected it to be. oh well, let me know if you like this! also who do i need to bribe at wakeone to give me jeonghyeon bc i miss him!!!! need him so bad

word count: 3.8k

zb1 | kim taerae, sunshine x grumpy au, angst, cute ending, communication issues trope, he fell first but she fell harder trope, college au, reader kinda sucks but they mean well <3

—

your professor assigns a two-person project in your philosophy class. it’s a paper on whether or not socrates was innocent or guilty of corrupting the youth.. or something like that. given you got a decent partner, it would take just a couple sessions at the library to get it done. you’re not even paying attention until someone walks up to you while you’re reading something on your phone. you look up to see a guy from your class you haven’t spoken to yet, though his reputation precedes him (yours must as well. he seems like he knows who you are). 

his name is taerae, you… think. he’s in the same friend group with sung hanbin and kim jiwoong, which already means he’s popular and well liked if he’s good enough to hang around with those kinds of guys. he’s always got this bright smile on his face, like a literal ray of sunshine walks through those doors every monday, wednesday, and friday. 

“hi,” he says to you, “i’m taerae. you’re my partner, right?” so you were right.

“yep,” you respond plainly. 

he awkwardly waits for you to maybe say something else, but when you don’t, he says, “are you available to meet at the library today? so we can get a headstart?”

yeah and did i mention he’s an amazing student? you couldn’t even imagine doing an assignment the day it was assigned, let alone actually do it, but it’s one less thing to worry about in three weeks and your future self will thank you.

“yeah, i can do 3,” you say and he smiles that bright smile that could make your heart flutter.

“alright, i’ll see you then!” he says, and then he’s off. 

you’re left right where you started, sitting at your desk, staring at your phone. you look over at the couple next to you, being way too excited that they got paired together. they’re doing way too much pda for a classroom and it reminds you, once again, that love is weird. not your style.

—

the first time you go to the library is 3 weeks before the due date.

“so which argument should we use? i think guilty would be more interesting to write about, but innocent is probably the easier side to defend.” he says, looking over at you after going over all his papers with that stupid smile again. it’s kind of annoying how immediately likable he is. 

“i don’t care. up to you,” you mumble, getting your laptop setup to write up your guys’ outline. 

he seems discouraged that you’re only responding to him shortly, but he refuses to give up, much to your dismay, “i want you to pick.” he says, small smile this time. his dimple is still visible, of course. 

“fine. we’ll argue that he’s innocent. what’s your email so i can share this doc with you?” you say, looking up at him, making brief eye contact. 

he’s silent for a second, just looking at you. 

and then suddenly it’s like his soul comes back into his body. “oh, sorry,” he says lamely, typing in his email on your keyboard and handing your laptop back you. he gets quiet for a second, and it makes the atmosphere weird and almost tense.

you feel the need to break it, “do you want to write the introduction and then first two arguments and i’ll write the third argument, the counter, and the conclusion?”

he smiles. you don’t even know why he would be smiling right now, but he has this look of fondness on his face, “sure. let’s work for an hour and then take a break. okay?” he says and you nod. 

you pretend not to notice the way he keeps looking at you, opening his mouth like he has something to say, and then giving up on that thought and going back to typing. 

—

“hi bestie,” you say as you walk up to taerae’s usual seat in the library. and there he is as always at this time. he doesn’t even know himself how he got you to show up here everyday (even if you barely did any work. you had finished your parts of the paper a week ago, but keep showing up to accompany him until he was done.) he can’t figure out why you keep showing up but he wont tell you to leave. 

“hey,” he says, not looking up from his laptop. 

“i got you something,” you tell him. he looks up, curious. 

you got him coffee when you got one for yourself, the exact thing he told you he liked last time.

it makes his heart skip a beat. maybe more than one.

—

“do you believe in ghosts?” he asks you as you type up a different assignment. the question catches you off guard, and you choose to stop your assignment and humor him for a second. 

“i guess so? why?” 

“why do you believe in ghosts?” he asks.

you laugh breathlessly, considering the true answer that you believe, “it just makes sense that they do. especially if their soul had unfinished business.”

“like what?”

“i dont know,” you shake your head, giggling at his persistence, “maybe they left someone they loved dearly behind, and they have to watch over them.”

loved… to love someone so dearly that you soul won’t rest until they find peace. your peace connected to theirs. how beautiful…

—

“do you ever feel like you’re missing out?” he asks, suddenly. a part of you almost already knows what he means. you were always more similar than you gave yourselves credit for.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ve never been in love. always so focused on music and my studies,” he admits, looking over at you, “am i missing out? it is nice to be in love?”

“well, unfortunately for you, you picked the one wrong person to ask,” you laugh at his defeated face, “ i’ve never been in love and i don’t really think i want to. it sounds lame. like i just wanna love my friends and myself. i don’t think romance is for me.” 

“yeah..? that sounds lonely,” he comments, but you shake your head.

“not lonely, just no one to break my heart.”

—

“if we keep going at this rate,” you say as you walk up to him and pull out your laptop, “we’ll probably only have to come to the library one more time. so this is what it’s like to be a good student.” you laugh to yourself as you sit down. he smiles faintly.

“yeah, for sure,” he says. almost looking down, like what you said upset him in some kind of way. it doesn’t make sense why. why would he want to keep working on philosophy assignments more than they have to?

— 

the supposedly ‘last’ time you go to the library is d-5 from the due date.

“do you really hate romance?” he asks, bringing up the topic again. he seems weirdly hung up on it.

“no, i never said i hated it. just not for me,” you sigh, “i’m not really a people person anyway. there’s no one i’d want to date even if i wanted to be romanced.”

ouch.

—

it’s d-day. a beautiful wednesday.

“hey!” taerae says, catching your attention as you get up to leave class. 

“what’s up?”

“can you meet after your classes today? would 3 work?” he asks, knowing full well you just submitted that paper with both your names on it. it was a+ material, what could be wrong about it?

“why? the project is over,” you say bluntly. he smile falters just a bit, but he catches himself and continues on.

“i… need your help to study,” he says, like he came up with it on the spot. 

‘you need… my help?’ you wanna say, but you don’t. you don’t call him out. 

“okay,” you say, “but i’m not staying long. just long enough to ‘help’ or whatever. see ya, tae.” you get up to go, but his hand stops you, grabbing your arm. 

“hey... uhm.. please come,” he says sincerely. something about this feels deeper than just ‘studying’. his eyes are showing how vulnerable he already feels. 

 “i will, taerae. i promise,” you say, “i'm honestly offended you think I'm gonna stand you up.”

he laughs with a bittersweet smile, “sorry!” as you walk off to your next class.

–

he’s sitting at one of those benches outside the library when you walk up to him. he doesn’t notice you at first, just playing on his phone. he looks so peaceful. 

and then he notices you, and smiles that signature smile, “hey! thank you for coming,” he says.

it’s just a tad bit confusing why he’s so hellbent on the idea that you wouldn’t want to come see him, or that it’s so important that you’re here. 

“i’m taking it that you don’t need help studying,” you smile back at him, and he shakes his head, “didn’t think so. you’re a star student.”

“i try my best,” he says, and you scoff at him. he barely tries. he’s just good at everything (except for math. but that’s math’s fault for being too complicated for him).

you shake your head at him, “okay, what did you wanna do?”

“i actually wanted to tell you something,” he starts. that smile of his fades when he gets anxious. he puts his hands in his pockets to hide how clammy they’re getting. you urge him to continue but he’s struggling to find the words, “i-i’m sorry, it’s hard to talk about.”

“it’s okay, tae, just breathe,”

he frowns, seemingly gaining the courage to say his thoughts, “i- i know this is- this is not what you want to hear because you’ve told me how you’re not romantically interested in anyone and you don’t want a relationship. you’re really clear about that and i respect that.”

he closes his eyes as he braces himself for how vulnerable he’s about to feel. he’s preparing to bare his heart out to you, when he knows you can’t care for it like he needs. 

“and i don’t want to make you feel pressured, but it feels wrong to hide it from you while i monopolize all your time,” he says, lowering his face to hide it from you. you can still see how red his ears are getting though, “i had to go and fall for the one person i couldn’t fall in love with.” he says it more to himself, like a criticism. ‘how could i do something so stupid, so self-destructive?’ he’s probably thinking, "I have feelings for you. i'm sorry."

“taerae…” you whisper, coming closer to try and comfort him, putting your hand on his arm. 

he shakes his head again, looking up with you with those darling eyes that make people fall for him left and right, “and it’s not fair to you, but it’s not fair to me either. you don’t want to be in love? that’s fine. but you can’t go and take my heart and write your initials on it like it belongs to you, and expect me to not feel it pounding in my chest for you. that’s…” it’s ironic that so many people probably have feelings for him and yet he’s here, baring his soul out to you, “cruel.”

his eyes, intentionally or not, are piercing into your soul in turn. it’s like he can see every last piece of your being, and it’s frightening to be that known by someone else. they’re pulling you in like a siren song, making you want to give it a chance, give him a chance. his eyes are doing every last thing to make you his, promising you to only ever be yours, to never hurt you, to always make you happy. 

maybe that’s why you left him there with nothing more than a squeeze to his hand and a “i’m so sorry,”. it was easier than looking into those beautiful eyes and tell him no. easier than watching his heart (with your initials on it) shatter.

—

and so you continue on with life. soulessly, you suppose, but every day keeps coming whether or not you want it to.

you keep checking your phone. it doesn’t even make sense why, because he’s probably too embarrassed and upset to text you. and he has every right to be upset at you right now. you left him when you got scared and haven’t even tried to say sorry, much less give him a proper response since that day. he has every right to be pissed at you.

and the shitty part is you know he’s not. because he’s taerae. because he was never mad at you. not when you bugged him when he tried to study. not when you barely worked during your library meetups. not when you were late and not when you were rude to him when you first had to start working together. 

he’s never been mad at you and you know every time you walk past him, he stops to look at you, hoping you’ll turn around, and the fact that you don’t is breaking him even more. all you know is that if he uses those puppy eyes on you one more time, all your resolve will crack. 

not falling in love was your main goal during college. years of being alone, part by choice and part by circumstance, made it so you felt you were better off by yourself. it’s hard to want other people when you’re not used to feeling wanted, and being in love just seems so scary.

were you in love with taerae? that was the real question, wasn’t it?

because he wasn’t that close of a friend. you had barely known he was more than an npc a few weeks ago, and you didn’t really know him that well. he was an enigma, a being you knew existed but nothing beyond his existence. and he wasn’t particularly charming. he was awkward. he was dorky. he didn't dress that well. he was really passionate about things and those things completely consumed him. he initially seemed like an anti romantic up until now, too focused on his passions and life to even think about love.

but every time he had said a dumb joke, you laughed. every time he tried to impress you with how cool he was, sure, it was kinda dorky, but you were impressed. and when he smiled at you, it felt like the world was okay in that instant. he gave you his jacket when he was cold once, he got your coffee before your study session once, and he cheered you on. 

maybe you did love him, but he must have given you no other option. nothing else you could do besides helplessly watching as he fundamentally changed who you were.

was it so bad to be in love with taerae? he’s beyond kind and has endless good will to give the world. and of course it was scary to be in love, but taerae wasn’t scary. he wouldn’t break your heart, he’d give you peace of mind and comfort. 

—

nothing sways you to talk to him quite like another person trying to flirt with him does. they’re attractive, a little mysterious, and intriguing from the get-go- if taerae’s crush on you was indicative of a type, they’d be his perfect match. 

they’re so clearly into him, you wonder if you looked like that when you hung out with him. maybe passerbys thought you were a couple before you were even friends. 

and he’s so clearly letting them flirt. he’s not making moves, but taerae doesn’t make moves like that. he wants to move slower than that. he doesn’t want to get into their pants, he wants them to romance him. he wants to feel courted. you’re not sure what you did to romance him, or how exactly your attitude made him feel courted. 

and it’s so hard to watch him be flirted with because you were the one who left him there. that could be you right now, but it’s not. taerae is letting someone else flirt with him and letting someone else tell him jokes and smiling that bright smile at someone else. that’s what really hurts. 

but you let them be while you jealously sip your coffee, talking to your friend sitting next to you.

“you need to talk to him,” they say, “you need to tell him about your feelings. even if you’re scared. he deserves honesty and you deserve to be happy.” 

and they’re right. you know they are. friends tend to be right about this kind of stuff.

and it takes all day to build up the courage. the second you think you could do it and make it out alive, you run over to his dorm room. it’s across campus, and you really could have just walked, but that means more time left alone with your thoughts, which is a big no no right now. 

—

it’s early in the evening, but even still you’re grateful that junhyeon took pity on you and took you to his dorm room that he shares with taerae. he left you guys alone to ‘talk’ he says with a smirk. if only you were sneaking in for something fun like that. and not to pour your heart out onto his floor and just hope that he’ll be okay with cleaning up the mess. 

“taerae!” you say as you burst into the room, locking the door as soon as junhyeon annoyingly shouts, “you're welcome!”. he looks up like a deer in headlights from his desk to see you tired, out of breath, holding the door against junhyeon until he gives up. he furrows his brows in confusion.

“what’s going on? are you okay?” he asks, "what's wrong? did someone say something?" he's got this look of protectiveness in his eyes. you wonder briefly if he thinks someone hurt your feelings and you came running to him for comfort. it's charming.

you shake your head, “i made a mistake and i came to fix it,” you say, that look in his eyes coming right back. like you’re back in that moment at the library. like it’s that fateful day again, with light wind in the forecast and pollen in the air. you remember nothing but how beautiful kim taerae looked and how painful it felt to run away. 

“i’m listening..” he says, trying to get you to continue, to say your side of everything, because you’re lost in thought and forgetting that he’s standing right in front of you.

you sigh, thinking maybe it’s best to back out, turning around to try the door. hopefully, junhyeon didn’t put a chair outside to keep you trapped so you could do 'things'. you almost commit to leaving, telling taerae you didn't have anything to say at all. it was easier than facing him. that’s when you see it. 

“what’s this?” you ask, pointing to the new bracelet in his pile of usual jewelry. 

“oh… my friend just got that for me, actually. i don’t think you’ve met that friend yet,” he says.

“was it the friend in the courtyard?” you ask, looking up at him. he can’t decipher the look in your eyes, but he nods. you’re half expecting a ‘how did you know i was in the courtyard?’ but you know he’s not going to pry like that. 

“taerae, i-” you start to say, and he looks up again, that hopeful look in his eyes. if you were a better person, you would have noticed how he looked at you the first time and never, ever let someone hurt him. even yourself. 

but you weren’t that person. you’ll learn to be that person now, though. his pretty smile depended on it. 

“i’m so sorry for leaving you there,” you say, getting right into it, “i’m sorry i never gave you a proper response to what you told me, and i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to gather my thoughts. i’m so sorry, i feel horrible for how you must have felt when i left after you said all of that.” 

“it’s okay,” he tells you. it’s not and you both know it, “you don’t have to feel the same about me. that was my fault for falling for you and coming on so strong about my feelings. you weren’t ready for it and i scared you. i was in the wrong.”

and it hurts to know he’s still going to apologize after all of this. he’s too kind and too pure of heart. 

the bracelet comes back to your mind. and you have no right to be jealous because that person did nothing wrong. they were honestly probably a good distraction for him while you were being a coward. but the bracelet, a marker of something of theirs being on his wrist. the thought left a disgusting feeling in your stomach. it was clear in that moment exactly how you felt. 

you come closer to him, suddenly emboldened by the jealousy of a gift another suitor got him and the fact that he was so wrong in his assumption of how he felt. he takes a step back when you get a little too close, like he’s nervous. not scared, but timid about what’s going on. his breath hitches when you look down at his lips like you could devour him. you were so obvious. 

“taerae,” you say, and one last time, he looks up at you with doe eyes, “i thought i didn’t have feelings for you. and then i watched myself break your heart. i knew right there and then that these emotions couldn’t have been caused by anything other than me having feelings for you. i didn’t want to admit it, to you or myself, but…” you trail off, forgetting the last words of your sentence when his eyes find your lips, like he wants to have you now, finally knowing there’s shared emotions there, “i thought i didn’t feel anything romantic for people at all, like i was soulless, and you proved me wrong.” 

“...why did you run?”

“i was scared. i’ve always been afraid to fall in love. i kept thinking, ‘what if he broke my heart?’. i realized how dumb it sounded because… it’s just so unlike you,” you smile at him, seeing all the innocence and kindness in his eyes, and wonder how you ever could have felt scared to fall for him, “and i saw them flirt with you. i told myself i couldn’t be jealous, but it’s hard to not be. i wanted you first, kim taerae. i know it’s not up to me, but they couldn’t have you. i couldn’t let that happen.”

“...come take me then,” he says, still staring at your lips. he really won’t make the first move, will he? you smile to yourself as you step closer, pressing your lips to his briefly, pulling away, and then again, just… not so briefly this time. he pulls away first because lord knows you couldn’t have, “so what happened to ‘i never wanna fall in love’?”

“i didn’t want this initially, you know. falling for you was never a choice,” you say. he laughs with all his chest.

“such an anti-romantic. glad i could turn you,” he smiles, “i’m just happy, in all your hatred of romance and pickiness for people, you picked this loser.”

oh taerae, you’re not a loser. you’re just in love.

[moni-logues]

Hi there, pretty Moni!

If it isn’t too much to ask, may I please request a professor Yoongi x female college student reader piece?

For the genre, hmmm. Surprise us, maybe? 🤭🥹

Thank you very much, eonni. ☺️

okkkkkkkkkkk

SO, I am not super comfortable with a professor/student dynamic so I have done a peer tutor type situation; hope that is ok! I really don't know if this is anything, tbh, but I'm really just trying to leave the tap on to get the rust out!! So thank you for this request; I hope it at least in some way satisfies!

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (gender neutral)

Genre: acquaintances-to-?? dating? maybe?? tbc lol; college/uni AU

Summary: Your university forces you to be tutored to bring up your grades; your tutor is the quiet loner from class whom you begin to realise you should have noticed long before now.

Word count: 1.2k

Content: none to warn for, unless you have traumatic memories of philosophy essays lmao

Kant or Won't?

You pushed through the heavy library door with a sigh. It was a beautiful day – one of the first of the year. The blossom was budding on the trees; the grass was dry enough to sit on; the sun was bright and warm overhead. You were heading into the dim, crowded world of studying on a Saturday.  

You only had yourself to blame. You knew that. One too many parties and too few essays written. You knew you had to try harder. What you didn’t know was why your school was mandating tutoring. It wasn’t that you didn’t know things! You didn’t struggle with the material; it was the sitting down and focusing on it that was the problem. How a tutor was supposed to help with that, you didn’t know. You did, however, want to stay at university so you accepted your fate.  

The peer tutor service had told you which private study room was booked for your session, but when you peered in through the door window, you assumed there must have been some sort of mistake.  

“Uh, it’s Yoongi, right?” you asked, tentatively as you entered the room.  

He looked up and nodded. 

You knew Yoongi. Well, you knew of him. He was in your philosophy group. He contributed only when forced to and you had never seen him chatting to anyone either before or after seminars. You assumed he was just some kind of loner loser guy and that was really the first and last you ever thought of him. You didn’t notice him and no one else seemed to either.  

It surprised you that he would volunteer to do this: meet with lazy, unfocused students to bring their grades up. It wasn’t exactly socialising, but it was social. It would involve talking to people. Strangers. Maybe even people he actively disliked. 

You sat around the corner of the table from him and pulled out your notebook, full of half-finished sentences and scribbled notes from lectures. The edges were black with doodles and your first clean page was the one right next to where you had snapped and written ‘FUUUUUUUUCK’ in huge capital letters. You tucked that page to the back and readied your pen. 

“Just so you know,” you started as Yoongi opened his textbook, “I’m not actually like, dumb. I’m fine with the material; I just hate doing the essays, y’know? I’m just too lazy to get around to it, so then, when it’s the night before deadline, I just have to write any old shit to get it done. You know how it is, right? Procrastination nation.” 

Yoongi looked at you, thoughtfully, and it was the first time you’d ever really seen his face. It was nice. He was kind of good-looking actually. You wondered what sort of life he had off-campus. Maybe he just didn’t like the people at school. Maybe he had other friends. A partner? Not that you cared, but you thought, now that you were really looking at him, maybe he could have one. Not bad at all. 

“Lazy?” he asked. 

You nodded, expecting him to say something more. He didn’t.  

“Ok, well...” You spoke for him. “I guess we’re supposed to get my essay on Kant done?” 

You flicked through your notes to see if you’d taken any while Yoongi still just looked at you.  

“What are you views on Kant?” you asked.  

“What are your views on Kant?” he countered.  

You wondered if it was a test. You’d told him you knew the material; it was only reasonable for him to ask for proof.  

The directness of his gaze made you feel a little flustered; the focus of his attention unwavering in a way you found unsettling.  

“Um, well, ok...” 

* * * 

“Guess what I’ve just done,” you demanded as you walked into the private study room two weeks later. 

“What?” 

“I’ve just submitted my Kant thing!” 

Yoongi didn’t look surprised, but he did look pleased. You felt a genuine sense of pride, swiftly followed by an embarrassed guilt that you should feel so proud of something that thousands of other people did with ease every day.  

“Wow,” he said. “And the deadline isn’t for three whole days.” 

“I know!” 

“How do you feel?”  

You didn’t want to tell him how pleased with yourself you were. You knew he had submitted his last week. You didn’t want to let him know that you were pathetic enough to feel a genuine sense of achievement over what you’d done. It was minor. Embarrassingly minor.  

“Good, I guess. Nice to have it out of the way.” 

Yoongi nodded.  

“That’s really great.” 

He smiled at you and you smiled back. If you got a good grade for this essay, you wouldn’t have to come back for tutoring. That alone had almost made you not complete the essay. Yoongi’s presence was soothing and something about being here in this room with him made it easier to focus. You liked studying with him. He mostly kept to himself and let you ask questions when you needed to. It didn’t really feel like tutoring at all, to be honest. He was a study buddy, not a teacher.  

You were surprised how much you enjoyed it, actually, when it really got down to it. Without the screaming panic of a deadline just hours away, you had more time to focus on the content, think about the topic, read about it, dig in. You remembered why you had chosen philosophy in the first place. And, when prompted, Yoongi would talk to you about it, too; your views were often the same, but not always. He was smarter than you, but not by much. 

You met frequently, first in short bursts, then in longer and longer sessions that you often found yourself wishing would last longer. Yoongi was good at sticking to the topic, pulling you back around when your conversation veered into general chat or something irrelevant, which you did more and more each time, because he was nice to talk to, he was interesting; you wanted to know what he thought and what he had to say.  

You also still didn’t know if he had a partner. 

*  

“Aha!”  

You cornered Yoongi in the classroom before he could escape, thrusting your essay into his face. He took it from you and eyed the grade in the corner with a smirk. 

“Well done, you.”  

“Nailed it, mate!” 

“You did.” 

“This means you don’t have to tutor me anymore.” 

He laughed softly. 

“It’s not like I really ever did anything. You said so yourself: you know the material. You never really needed me.” 

Something about that made you feel sad. You had needed him. You would not have been able to do it without him, if all your past experiences were to be relied upon.  

“Well, actually...”  

You had been working up to this. It was the perfect opportunity so you had just been waiting, waiting for your grade, waiting for this open target. 

“I was kind of hoping you might have some time to talk over the next one with me... Not formally, as a tutor, but just... y’know... Like, as a classmate. Or friend.” 

Yoongi blinked rapidly, his mouth slightly open.  

“Uh, yeah. Yeah ok.” 

“Cool. I’ll, um, text you or something and we can set up a time?” 

He nodded. There was a tiny stretch of tension between you, held for just a moment, before he stood from his seat and you straightened up, readying to walk away.  

“I’ll see you... soon, I guess.” 

“Yeah, soon.”