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lemonsdietcoke · 2 months ago

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Get Gone - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

This is part 3 of my mini series love ridden

Warnings: physical abuse, DV, implied NONCON, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, and intense depictions of psychological distress. Reader discretion is advised.

Summary: “How many times do I have to say To get away, get gone?” A late-night confrontation unearths buried truths, forcing you to confront the cost of her own survival. loosely inspired by Get Gone-Fiona Apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: yall I’m sorry this took so long, I have work & school during the week and low-key got lazy lol but it’s finally here!!! Lmk if yall fw it. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!! <3

…………………….

The room feels smaller now, the air pressing down on you like it’s alive, like it’s conspiring with him. Every second ticks by painfully, loud and sharp in your ears. You swear you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“If you walk out that door,” Su-bong says again, his voice low, deliberate, “you’ll never see me again.”

There’s no anger in his tone, no malice. Just a quiet certainty that chills you to your core. It should feel like a relief—like a clean break. But instead, it feels like a threat wrapped in a promise.

Your hands tighten around your phone. Ji-hye’s name still flashes on the screen like a lifeline you’re too afraid to grab.

“Why would you say that?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because it’s the truth,” he says, tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watches you. “I don’t want to play games anymore, Y/N. I can’t do this halfway. Either you stay, and we figure this out together, or you leave… and that’s it.”

The simplicity of his words makes them hit harder. They slice through you like glass, leaving behind wounds you can’t see but can feel.

“You don’t mean that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

His lips curl into a faint, humorless smile. “Don’t I?”

You feel like the floor is shifting beneath you, like the ground you’ve been standing on has suddenly turned to quicksand. “You’re just saying that to scare me,” you accuse.

“Am I?” His voice is calm, measured, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. “You think I don’t mean it, but deep down, you know I do. You know I’ve always meant it when it comes to you.”

“Stop,” you say, your voice cracking.

“Why?” he presses, taking a slow step toward you. He’s close now, too close, his presence overwhelming. “Because you don’t want to hear it? Because you don’t want to admit that it scares you?”

“I’m not scared of you,” you shoot back, even though your heart is hammering in your chest.

“No,” he says softly, almost thoughtfully. “You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of what happens if you leave. You’re scared because you don’t know who you are without me.”

Your stomach twists violently. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice softens, but that only makes it worse. “You don’t want to leave, Y/N. You’re just trying to convince yourself that you do. But we both know the truth. You’ve always been afraid of being alone.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” His words are quiet, but they land with the force of a wrecking ball. “You stayed with me for two years, even when you knew you should’ve left. You forgave me for things most people wouldn’t. And why? Because you didn’t want to be alone. Because you don’t know how to be alone.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You don’t get to do this,” you say, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “You don’t get to make this about me. You’re the one who—”

“I’m not making this about you,” he interrupts, his tone sharpening. “I’m just telling you the truth. You don’t want to hear it, fine. But don’t act like I’m the bad guy for saying it.”

You let out a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you struggle to hold yourself together. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

He scoffs, the sound low and bitter. “I know everything about you, Y/N. I know how you think, how you feel. I know you better than anyone, including Ji-hye.”

The mention of her name sends a jolt through you, sharp and electric.

“that’s who you’ve been talking to, right?” he asks, his voice dropping into something quieter, more dangerous. “Ji-hye?”

Your throat tightens. “She’s my friend. Of course I’ve been talking to her.”

“About me?” His question is calm, but there’s something venomous just beneath the surface.

“She’s my best friend,” you say, lifting your chin even though your hands are shaking. “I tell her everything.”

His jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I thought what we had was private. I guess I was wrong.”

“Private?” you repeat, your voice rising. “You’ve been calling me nonstop for weeks, leaving voicemails threatening to kill yourself, and now you want to talk about privacy?”

“That’s different,” he snaps, his control slipping for the first time.

“Is it?” you shoot back, your voice cracking. “Because it feels a hell of a lot like you’re just mad that I told someone the truth about you.”

He steps closer, and you instinctively take a step back. “You’re the one dragging her into this,” he says, his voice low but cutting. “You’re the one making this worse.”

“She’s worried about me!” you shout, your emotions spilling over, raw and unfiltered. “She’s worried because she knows what you’re like!”

His expression darkens, his gaze boring into yours. “She doesn’t know you like I do. She doesn’t know what you’re like when you’re falling apart. When you’re scared. When you don’t know what you want.”

“I know what I want!” you yell, your voice breaking. “I want to leave!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Then go,” he says, his tone soft but razor-sharp. “But don’t come back. Because if you walk out that door, Y/N…” He pauses, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “I promise you’ll never see me again.”

Your chest tightens, panic clawing at your insides. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m done,” he says simply. “I’m done chasing you, done begging you to talk to me, done waiting for you to figure out what you want.”

You stare at him, your mind racing, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen, Ji-hye’s name flashing like a lifeline.

“She’s outside,” you say, your voice trembling. “She’s waiting for me.”

He doesn’t react at first. And then—

“Of course she is.” His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “You always need someone to save you, don’t you?”

The words hit you like a slap, the sting radiating through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Go ahead,” he says, stepping aside and gesturing toward the door. “Run to her. But don’t pretend you’re doing this for you. We both know you don’t have the guts to face this on your own.”

Your legs feel like lead, your heart pounding as you take a shaky step toward the door.

And as you reach for the handle, his voice cuts through the silence one last time.

“When you realize I’m right,” he says softly, “don’t bother coming back.”

You don’t look at him as you open the door.

But you feel his eyes on you the whole way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car door shuts behind you with a heavy, final thud.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your own ragged breathing, loud and uneven in the stillness of the cabin. The air inside feels thick, stagnant. You reach for your seatbelt with trembling hands, but the buckle slips from your fingers twice before you manage to click it into place.

Ji-hye doesn’t start the car. She doesn’t even move.

Her knuckles are wrapped tight around the steering wheel, her nails biting into the leather. The dim glow of the dashboard casts her face in sharp relief — her set jaw, the hard line of her mouth, the slight tremble in her lips she’s fighting to keep still.

Her eyes flicker toward you, then away, like she can’t bear to look too long. “You okay?” she asks, her voice low, strained. The question sounds more like an accusation than concern.

You nod — a jerky, unconvincing motion that does nothing to quiet the storm inside you. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

Her fingers tighten on the wheel, the tendons standing out in sharp relief. “You don’t look fine.”

“I just…” You press your hands to your lap, flattening them against the fabric of your dress to keep them from shaking. “I just want to go home.”

She exhales sharply, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. But she doesn’t start the car.

“What happened, Y/N?” Her voice is still low, but there’s an edge to it now — a tremor beneath the surface, like she’s holding herself back from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking the truth out of you.

“Nothing happened,” you say too quickly, too defensively.

Ji-hye’s head snaps toward you, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t bullshit me.”

You flinch at the sharpness in her tone, the anger laced through it, though you know it’s not directed at you.

“I…” You shake your head, your breath hitching. “I don’t know.”

Her jaw tightens. She turns back to the steering wheel, but her fingers twitch against it, like she’s holding herself back from punching something. “What the fuck does that mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t remember!” The words explode out of you before you can stop them, loud and jagged and filled with panic. Your chest heaves, and your eyes sting as the tears start to well up again. “I don’t fucking remember, Ji-hye! I blacked out, okay? I don’t know what happened!”

She goes still, completely still, her hands frozen on the wheel. Slowly, she turns to look at you again. “You don’t remember anything?”

Your breath hitches, and you shake your head.

Her gaze sharpens, her eyes scanning your face like she’s searching for the pieces of a puzzle you can’t see. “But you woke up there,” she says finally, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “At his place.”

You nod, and the weight of the admission makes your chest tighten, makes the shame press down harder.

Ji-hye leans back in her seat, dragging a hand through her hair. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath.

Her reaction makes your stomach churn. “I—” Your voice cracks, and you have to swallow hard before you can speak again. “I don’t know if anything happened.”

Her head snaps toward you again, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know,” you whisper, the tears spilling over now, hot and relentless. You clutch at your dress, twisting the fabric in your fists as the words come tumbling out. “I don’t remember getting there. I don’t remember going to bed. But when I woke up—” Your voice falters, your breath hitching painfully. “There were bruises, Ji-hye. On my thighs. And my underwear was—” You choke on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

The silence in the car is suffocating.

Ji-hye doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and when you finally glance at her, her expression makes your chest tighten even more. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and her eyes are dark, her gaze fixed on the dashboard like she’s barely holding herself together.

“You think he—” She can’t even finish the question.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, the words barely audible. “I don’t know, Ji-hye. But what if he didn’t? What if I’m just overthinking it? What if I’m—”

“Stop.” Her voice cuts through your rambling, sharp and commanding. She turns to you fully now, her gaze locking onto yours. “Stop right there. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“But—”

“There is no ‘but,’” she snaps, her voice rising. “You were drunk, Y/N. If he did anything — anything — that you didn’t consent to, it’s not your fault. Do you understand me?”

You can’t answer. Your throat is too tight, your chest heaving as you fight to keep yourself together.

Ji-hye exhales sharply, dragging her hands through her hair again. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, her voice trembling now. “That fucking piece of shit.”

Her words make your stomach twist, the nausea bubbling up again. “What if I—”

“You didn’t do anything,” she cuts you off again, her voice softening but no less firm. “Do you hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one—” She stops herself, her voice breaking on the last word. She clenches her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable.

Finally, Ji-hye starts the car, but she doesn’t drive. The engine hums beneath you, the only sound in the suffocating quiet.

“What do I do?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Ji-hye’s hands tighten on the wheel. She stares straight ahead, her gaze burning with quiet fury. “You don’t go back to him,” she says, her voice steady now. “Not ever. I don’t care what it takes, Y/N. He doesn’t get to be a part of your life anymore.”

You swallow hard, her words cutting through the fog in your mind like a lifeline.

“We’ll figure it out,” Ji-hye says, her voice softening. She reaches over, her hand resting on yours. Her grip is warm and steady, grounding you. “I promise. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

The weight of her words sinks into you, anchoring you to the moment. You don’t know what comes next. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to put the pieces of last night together.

But for now, you let her words steady you. For now, you let yourself believe her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air smells like caramelized sugar and charred meat. Smoke curls from food stalls, the sizzle of grilling pork belly mingling with the faintly sweet aroma of tteokbokki simmering in spicy sauce. Somewhere in the distance, someone’s laughing, the sound light and bright, cutting through the low hum of the crowd.

Ji-hye’s arm loops through yours, her grip warm and grounding as she steers you through the maze of vendors. It’s loud here, chaotic in the way only street markets can be, but you’ve missed it—this pulsing rhythm of life, the neon lights reflecting off puddles of rainwater on the pavement, the voices overlapping as vendors shout over one another to hawk their food.

“Y/N,” Ji-hye says, tilting her head toward a stall where skewers of fish cake glisten in the warm glow of a heat lamp. “You want one?”

You start to shake your head, but the look on her face stops you. She’s been trying so hard to pull you out of your own head, to make you laugh, to make you eat.

“Sure,” you say. Your voice feels foreign, stiff and distant, but Ji-hye beams anyway.

She orders two skewers, handing one to you before taking a bite of her own. “This is the best part about winter,” she says, her words muffled around a mouthful of food. “I swear I could eat eomuk every single day.”

You take a bite, the broth-soaked fish cake warm and savory on your tongue. It’s good—comforting, even—but it doesn’t reach the hollow ache in your chest.

Ji-hye is still talking, something about the new club opening next weekend, but her voice fades into the background as your gaze snags on something across the street.

Purple hair.

Your breath catches in your throat, the skewer trembling slightly in your hand. It’s not him—it’s a girl, her hair cropped short and spiked, her face unfamiliar—but your body doesn’t know the difference.

Your heart is racing, the world around you narrowing to a pinpoint. The noise of the market fades, replaced by the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

“Y/N?” Ji-hye’s voice cuts through the haze, her hand on your arm.

You blink, your chest heaving as you drag your gaze away from the girl. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Her brow furrows, concern etched into every line of her face.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a shaky smile. “I just—thought I saw someone I knew.”

Her lips press together, like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she squeezes your arm and changes the subject, dragging you to the next stall.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. You smile when Ji-hye laughs, nod when she talks, but your mind is elsewhere. Your skin feels too tight, your senses stretched thin. Every shout from a vendor, every gust of cigarette smoke, every glimpse of purple in the crowd sends your heart skittering in your chest.

When you finally part ways with Ji-hye, your cheeks ache from forcing smiles, and your stomach churns with the weight of pretending.

The walk home is quiet. The market’s noise fades into the background as you leave it behind, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog.

Your apartment building looms ahead, its shadow stretching long and dark across the street.

You reach the door, your fingers trembling slightly as you punch in the code. The lock beeps, the door clicking open, and you step inside, the familiar scent of your apartment wrapping around you like a blanket.

Safe.

You kick off your shoes, leaving them by the door. The silence is heavy, pressing, but it’s better than the noise. Better than the chaos.

You make your way to the bathroom, the tiles cold under your bare feet. The fluorescent light flickers to life, casting your reflection in sharp relief.

You look… tired.

But not the same kind of tired you were before. It’s different now—less hollow, less fragile. Still frayed around the edges, but stitched together enough to pass.

You wash your face, the cool water shocking against your skin. Your movements are slow, methodical, each step of your routine grounding you just a little more.

The week since you left Su-bong’s apartment has been a blur.

You’ve thrown yourself into small, safe routines: going to work, meeting Ji-hye for meals, scrolling aimlessly through your phone until sleep overtakes you. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to drown out the questions.

For the first time in years, you feel like you’re breathing again. Slowly. Unevenly. But breathing.

Ji-hye says you look better. Healthier.

You believe her, mostly. Even though you still jump at sudden noises. Even though crowds make your chest feel tight. Even though you sometimes find yourself scanning unfamiliar faces for someone who isn’t there.

The clock reads 12:03 AM when you finally collapse onto the couch, a mug of tea cooling in your hands.

You’ve only just started to relax when the knock comes.

At first, you think you imagined it.

You weren’t expecting anyone this late.

Then it comes again. Louder this time.

You freeze.

Another knock.

“Y/N.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

It’s him.

No. No, this isn’t possible. He doesn’t even know where you live.

You moved after the breakup. You didn’t tell anyone except Ji-hye.

So how the fuck does he know?

Your chest tightens, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you stare at the door.

Another knock.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there.”

His voice is slurred, thick with alcohol or something stronger.

“I just want to talk. Please.”

Your fingers dig into the couch cushion, your nails scraping against the fabric.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, the words cracking in his throat. “I shouldn’t have said those things. You know I didn’t mean them.”

The lump in your throat grows heavier, your stomach twisting violently.

“Don’t ignore me.” His tone shifts, harder now. “I can see the lights are on.”

Your pulse roars in your ears. You grab your phone from the coffee table, your hands trembling as you scroll to Ji-hye’s name.

The knocking stops, but his voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Y/N.”

Your fingers freeze.

“Just open the door, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of his words settles over you like a lead blanket.

“I need to see you.”

No.

“You’re not being fair, you know that? After everything we’ve been through…”

You press the phone to your chest, your other hand gripping the armrest so tightly your knuckles ache.

“Do you really want me to cause a scene?” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but the threat is clear beneath it. “Your neighbors don’t need to hear this, do they?”

The knot in your chest tightens, fear and anger twisting together into something sharp and unbearable.

“Come on,” he says again, his voice breaking slightly. “Please. I just… I just need to talk to you.”

The silence stretches, your own breathing ragged in the quiet.

Then, a softer knock.

“I’ll leave if you just talk to me,” he says. “I swear.”

You close your eyes, your stomach churning violently.

You don’t want to open the door.

You don’t want to see him.

But you know Su-bong.

You know how loud he can get when he doesn’t get his way.

And it’s late. Your neighbors are probably asleep.

You take a shaky breath, your body trembling as you rise to your feet.

The floor feels unsteady beneath you as you make your way to the door, every step heavier than the last.

Your fingers tremble as you unlock the deadbolt, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness.

You open the door just a crack, your body blocking the gap.

And there he is.

His hair is a mess, his shirt wrinkled and half-untucked. His eyes are bloodshot, his pupils blown wide. The faint smell of alcohol wafts off him, mixing with the cloying scent of his cheap cologne.

But it’s his expression that makes your stomach drop.

The desperation in his eyes.

The anger lurking just beneath it.

“Y/N.”

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, soft and broken.

You grip the doorframe, your nails digging into the wood. “What do you want, Su-bong?”

“I want to talk.” He shifts his weight, his hands twitching at his sides. “That’s all. Just… just talk to me.”

The second you crack the door an inch more, you regret it.

It’s instinctive, the way you step back as he pushes forward, brushing past you into the apartment like it’s his. Like there aren’t layers of pain, distance, and boundaries between you now.

“Su-bong, wait—”

“I’m not waiting,” he says, his voice low, a slur of alcohol softening the edges. “Not after you’ve been ignoring me for a week.”

He’s already halfway to the couch. The door is still open, the cold night air seeping in as you stand frozen, your fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe like it might ground you.

He turns back to glance at you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of your apartment. “You’re going to leave it open?”

You blink, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, reluctantly, you close the door.

The sound of the lock clicking into place feels like a nail in your coffin.

When you turn back, he’s sitting on your couch, slouched like he’s settling in for a long stay. His elbows rest on his knees, his hands clasped together loosely, but there’s nothing casual about the way his gaze locks onto you.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” His voice carries a hint of something sharp, but his eyes stay soft, almost sad. “I didn’t even know where to find you, Y/N. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

You stay near the door, keeping as much distance as you can, your pulse roaring in your ears. “How did you even—”

“How did I find you?” He cuts you off, leaning back into the couch like he owns it, like it’s still the one you used to share. “I have my ways.”

Your stomach churns. The vagueness in his tone makes your skin crawl. “What do you want, Su-bong?”

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “What do I want? I want to know why you blocked me.”

His words hit like a slap, the audacity of them stealing the breath from your lungs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His gaze sharpens, the softness in his eyes hardening. “You didn’t even let me explain, Y/N. You just—what? Cut me out? Pretend I don’t exist?”

“I had to,” you say, your voice trembling. “You wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Because I needed you!” The words burst out of him, loud and raw, echoing in the quiet apartment. “I didn’t know where else to go! I didn’t know what else to do!”

Your throat tightens, your chest heaving as you fight to keep your composure. “That’s not my problem anymore, Su-bong.”

He flinches, just slightly, but the hurt in his eyes is quickly replaced by something sharper. “You really think you can just shut me out like that? Like I don’t matter?”

“I never said you don’t matter,” you whisper. “I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?” he demands, standing suddenly. The movement makes you instinctively take a step back, your fingers brushing against the wall behind you.

“This.” You gesture between the two of you, your voice cracking. “You calling me nonstop. Showing up here. Saying things you can’t take back. I couldn’t—” Your voice falters, breaking on the words. “I couldn’t keep letting you drag me down with you.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Drag you down?” he repeats, his tone quiet but venomous.

You press yourself harder against the wall, your palms flat against the cool surface. “You know what I mean.”

He takes a slow step toward you, and your stomach twists violently. “No,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I don’t think I do.”

“Su-bong, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just leave.”

He stops, just a few feet away from you now. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Your breath hitches, your chest tightening painfully. “Get what?”

He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “You’re scared,” he says finally, his tone softening. “You’re scared because you don’t know what you’re doing without me.”

The words land like a punch to the gut. “That’s not true,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Yes, it is.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. “You’ve always been scared of being alone, Y/N. That’s why you stayed with me for so long, even when you knew you shouldn’t.”

Your nails dig into the wall behind you, the sharp pain grounding you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice softens, but it only makes the words hit harder. “You blocked me because you couldn’t handle it. Not because you’re over me. Not because you’re moving on. But because you’re scared of facing me.”

Your vision blurs with tears, your chest heaving. “That’s not true.”

“It’s not?” His voice drops to a whisper, his eyes searching yours. “If it’s not true, why’d you let me in?”

The question cuts deeper than you want to admit.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why I let you in.”

His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile, something that makes your stomach twist. “I do,” he says softly.

“What do you mean?”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. You flinch, but he doesn’t pull back.

“You let me in,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, “because you still love me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “That’s not—”

“You do,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “And that’s okay. I’m not mad about it. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand lingers on your arm, and you feel like you’re drowning, like the walls are closing in on you.

“Su-bong, please,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face now. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says, his voice soft and coaxing. “Just… let me stay. Just for a little while.”

You shake your head, your breath hitching. “I don’t want you here.”

“Yes, you do,” he says quietly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “You don’t have to say it, but I know you do.”

The weight of his hand on your face is unbearable.

And in that moment, you realize—

You’re trapped.

His hand lingers on your cheek, warm and steady, but the weight of it feels crushing. Your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurring as his thumb brushes gently over your skin. It’s too much — the closeness, the intimacy he’s trying to pull you back into.

“Stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t.

“You don’t have to fight this,” Su-bong says softly, his voice slurring at the edges. “I’m not your enemy, Y/N.”

The words twist in your chest, sharp and suffocating. You push his hand away, your fingers trembling as you take a step back.

“You need to leave.” Your voice is quiet, but there’s an edge of panic creeping into it.

He doesn’t move. Instead, he watches you, his gaze heavy and unreadable. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice low and raw. “Why are you pushing me away when you know—”

“Know what?” you snap, cutting him off. “What the fuck do I know, Su-bong? Because right now, I don’t know anything.”

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” you continue, your voice rising, breaking under the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know why you can’t just leave me alone. And I don’t know what the fuck happened that night.”

The room goes still.

For a moment, all you can hear is your own ragged breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

Your chest tightens, your stomach twisting violently. “Don’t do that,” you say, your voice cracking. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

He shakes his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

“Stop lying!” The words burst out of you, loud and jagged, echoing in the suffocating silence. Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless, as you take a shaky step forward. “Stop fucking lying to me, Su-bong!”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Your voice breaks, the weight of your anger and fear crashing over you all at once. “You’ve been lying this whole fucking time, haven’t you? About everything.”

His gaze flickers, something dark and frantic flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Tell me what happened that night,” you demand, your voice trembling but unrelenting. “Tell me what you did.”

He flinches, just slightly, but it’s enough.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. “I woke up in your bed, Su-bong. I had bruises on my thighs. My underwear was backward.” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight of the words. “And I don’t remember anything.”

His face goes pale, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he quickly looks away.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Fucking say something.”

He drags a hand through his hair, his movements jerky and unsteady. “I didn’t—” He stops, his jaw clenching so tightly you think it might shatter. “I didn’t mean for it to—”

Your stomach drops. “For it to what?”

His gaze snaps back to you, wild and panicked. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?” His voice rises, cracking at the edges. “You were just—”

He stops himself again, his words hanging in the air like a noose tightening around your throat.

“I was just what?” you demand, your voice trembling. “Say it, Su-bong. Finish your fucking sentence.”

He doesn’t.

He looks at you, his chest heaving, his lips parted as if he’s searching for the right words. But none come.

And that’s worse than anything he could have said.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. Your mind spins, piecing together fragments of the truth you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Did you…” The words catch in your throat, your stomach churning violently. “Did you touch me?”

“No,” he says quickly, too quickly.

You flinch, the sharpness of his denial cutting through you like a blade. “Then why can’t you just tell me what happened?”

His hands shake at his sides, his knuckles white as he clenches them into fists. “Because it doesn’t fucking matter, Y/N!”

The words hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“It doesn’t matter?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s not what you think, okay? I didn’t—” He stops himself again, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

The room tilts, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

“That far?” you whisper, your chest tightening painfully. “What the fuck does that mean, Su-bong?”

He doesn’t answer.

The silence is deafening, your pulse roaring in your ears as you stare at him, waiting, hoping for something—anything—that makes sense.

But all you get is the look on his face.

The guilt.

The shame.

The fear.

And you know.

You know.

Your legs give out, and you sink to the floor, your back pressing against the wall as your breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice soft now, pleading. He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “Don’t come near me.”

“Please,” he says, his tone desperate. “Just let me explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain,” you say, your voice cracking. “You did it, didn’t you?”

His silence is all the confirmation you need.

You press your hands to your face, your tears spilling over, hot and relentless.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I swear, I didn’t—”

“Get out.”

The words are quiet but firm, cutting through the suffocating tension like a knife.

“Y/N, please—”

“Just fucking go!” you scream, your voice raw and jagged, echoing through the apartment.

He doesn’t.

“Get the fuck out!” you scream again, your voice raw and jagged, slicing through the suffocating tension.

But Su-bong doesn’t move.

Instead, he stares at you, his chest heaving, his face twisting into something you can’t quite recognize. Something darker. “I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low, dangerous.

Your stomach twists violently. “You need to leave, Su-bong. Now.”

“Why?” he snaps, his voice rising. “So you can sit here and hate me? So you can keep twisting this into something it’s not?”

“Something it’s not?” Your voice cracks, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “You just admitted it! You just fucking said—”

“I said I didn’t mean for it to go that far!” he shouts, cutting you off. His face is flushed now, his eyes wild, the faint slur in his voice sharper. “That’s not the same thing!”

“It’s exactly the same thing!” you scream back, the words ripping out of you like a knife. “You knew I was drunk! You knew I couldn’t—”

“You didn’t say no,” he interrupts, his voice low and venomous.

The room falls silent.

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

And then, quietly, trembling—

“That never stopped you before.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Su-bong’s face twists, something dark and ugly flashing across it. His jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” you say, your voice shaking but firm. “You’ve always pushed, always taken. And I—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I let you, because I loved you. Because I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you!” he shouts, his voice breaking. He takes a step closer, his movements unsteady, uncoordinated. “I’ve always fucking loved you!”

“Love?” you laugh bitterly, the sound harsh and cutting. “This isn’t love, Su-bong. This is control. This is you trying to fucking own me.”

“I don’t want to own you!” he yells, his voice cracking. “I just—” He stops, dragging a hand through his hair, his movements erratic. “I just want you to stay. I just want us to be okay again.”

“There is no ‘us,’” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “Not anymore.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. He staggers back slightly, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

And that’s when it happens.

He lunges forward, grabbing your wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you flinch. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice desperate, pleading. “Please, Y/N. Don’t fucking do this.”

“Let me go.” Your voice is sharp, but your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Not until you listen to me!” he shouts, his grip tightening slightly.

“Let me go!” you scream, jerking your arm back. The force of it sends you both stumbling, and for a moment, everything is chaos.

Your hand connects with his chest—an instinctive push to get him away from you. He stumbles again, his back hitting the edge of the couch.

And then he snaps.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall beside him. The sound is loud, jarring, the plaster cracking under the force. “Why the fuck do you always have to make everything so goddamn hard?”

Tears stream down your face, hot and relentless, as you back away from him. “Get out,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Su-bong.”

“I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “Not until you stop lying to yourself. Not until you admit you still love me.”

You laugh. Bitter. Sharp. The sound scrapes its way out of your throat, raw and venomous.

“Love you?” you say, the words trembling on the edge of rage. “I fucking hate you.”

The air in the room shifts.

His expression changes — a flicker of something unrecognizable crossing his face before it hardens into something darker. He steps toward you, his chest heaving, his fists still clenching at his sides.

“What did you just say?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet.

“You heard me,” you snap, your voice rising, shaking. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate what you’ve done to me, what you’ve made me. I fucking hate you, Su-bong.”

For a second, you think he’s going to hit you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he reaches for the mug sitting on the table beside him.

“You hate me?” he says, his voice shaking with barely-contained rage. “After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve put up with?”

The mug is in his hand now, his knuckles white as he grips it.

“You could barely last a week without me,” he spits, his voice rising. “You think you’re so fucking strong now? You’re nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing.”

And then he throws it.

It happens so fast, you barely have time to react.

The mug shatters against the wall behind you, fragments raining down around your feet. You flinch, your heart slamming against your ribs, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Are you fucking insane?” you scream, your voice cracking.

“You’re the one who made me like this!” he yells, his voice raw, ragged. He takes a step toward you, and you instinctively step back, your shoulders hitting the wall behind you.

“Get out,” you say, your voice trembling. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Su-bong.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“Yes, you are!” you scream, your voice breaking. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore! You don’t get to keep fucking breaking me and acting like it’s my fault!”

“I never broke you!” he yells, his voice rising to a roar. “You were already broken, Y/N! You’ve been broken since the day I met you!”

The words hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

“Go ahead,” he snaps, his voice venomous. “Blame me for everything. That’s all you’ve ever been good at.”

“Blame you?” you shout, your chest heaving with rage. “You ruined my life, Su-bong! You fucking destroyed me, and you don’t even care!”

“I cared more than anyone else ever did!” he shouts back, his voice cracking. “No one else gave a shit about you, Y/N! No one else stayed!”

“I wish you hadn’t!” you scream, your voice breaking. “I wish I’d never met you!”

The room goes silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a guillotine.

He stares at you, his chest heaving, his hands shaking at his sides.

“Say it again,” he says, his voice dangerously quiet.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

The air in the room shifts, heavy and suffocating.

His chest heaves with every labored breath, his fists trembling at his sides. And then he moves.

It’s a blur—the way he closes the distance between you, the way his hand shoots out and tangles in your hair. Pain flares at your scalp, sharp and instant, as he yanks you closer with a force that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Su-bong!” you cry, your hands flying up to claw at his wrist. “You’re hurting me!”

“No,” he snarls, his face inches from yours, his voice cracking with rage and desperation. “No, you’re hurting me, Y/N! You’re hurting me!”

His words are guttural, raw, as though they’ve been ripped from the deepest, ugliest part of him. His grip tightens, pulling harder, and you stumble, your knees buckling as you try to twist away.

“Let me go!” you scream, panic lacing every word. Your nails dig into his arm, leaving crescent-shaped marks against his skin, but it only seems to fuel him further.

“You don’t get to do this to me!” he yells, dragging you closer until you can feel the heat of his breath on your face, the wildness in his eyes swallowing you whole. “You don’t get to walk away like none of it mattered!”

“I didn’t—” Your voice cracks, tears spilling over, hot and relentless. “I didn’t do anything to you!”

“Liar,” he spits, his grip jerking you violently. “You’ve done everything, Y/N. You’ve ruined me, and you don’t even fucking care.”

Your heart pounds, a frantic, desperate rhythm that drowns out everything else. “Please,” you choke out, your voice trembling. “Please stop.”

But there’s no stopping him.

You twist sharply, pulling against his hold with every ounce of strength you have. He lets out a snarl of frustration as you manage to free yourself, stumbling back against the wall. For a moment, you think it’s over, that maybe he’s come to his senses.

But then his gaze drops to the lamp on the side table.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t hesitate.

The lamp is in his hand before you can react, his fingers curling around its base like it’s an extension of his rage.

“You want me to stop?” he spits, his voice rising. “Fine. I’ll fucking stop.”

And then he throws it.

The lamp sails through the air, and for a split second, time seems to slow. You see it coming, but there’s no time to move. It smashes into your shoulder with a sickening thud, the force of it sending you sprawling to the floor.

Pain blooms instantly, sharp and white-hot, radiating from your shoulder down to your fingertips. You cry out, clutching the spot where it hit, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Does it hurt?” he taunts, his voice dripping with venom. “Good. Maybe now you’ll fucking listen to me.”

Your vision blurs with tears, the pain and fear twisting together into something unbearable. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, your voice breaking.

“What’s wrong with me?” he snaps, his voice cracking. “You, Y/N. You’re what’s wrong with me. You made me like this!”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

His laughter is low and bitter, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “You drove me to this. You, with your lies, your fucking games—”

“I didn’t play any games!” you shout, your chest heaving. “I just wanted to get away from you!”

“You don’t get to run!” he roars, his face twisting into something unrecognizable. “Not after everything I’ve done for you! Not after—”

He stops abruptly, his gaze flickering to you, then to your throat.

And before you can move, before you can scream, he’s on you.

His hands wrap around your neck, his grip cold and unrelenting.

At first, it doesn’t feel real—the pressure, the way your breath catches in your throat, the way his face looms above you, wild and furious. But then the reality slams into you all at once, and the panic sets in.

You claw at his hands, your nails scraping against his skin as you gasp for air. The world narrows to the sound of your strangled breaths, the pounding of your pulse in your ears, the fire spreading through your lungs as you fight to inhale.

“Why do you always make me do this?” he growls, his voice shaking with anger. “Why do you always push me, Y/N? Why?”

Your vision blurs, black spots creeping in at the edges.

He’s saying something else, his voice a low, guttural snarl, but you can’t make out the words. All you can focus on is the pressure, the way it feels like your throat is collapsing under his grip.

And then—

A loud, sharp knock cuts through the haze.

“Police! Open the door!”

The sound barely registers at first, muffled and distant, like it’s coming from another world.

But it’s enough.

The knocking grows louder, more insistent. Voices shout from the other side, commanding, urgent.

“Police! We’re coming in!”

Su-bong’s grip falters, just slightly, as the realization dawns on him.

His gaze snaps to the door, then back to you.

“You called the fucking cops?” he snarls, his grip tightening again, his face contorting with rage. “You think they can save you? You think anyone can fucking save you from me?”

The sound of the door bursting open cuts him off.

In an instant, the room is flooded with voices—sharp, commanding, barking orders that you can’t quite process.

“Get off her!”

“Hands up!”

Su-bong freezes, his hands still around your throat, his body trembling with barely-contained fury.

“Let her go now!”

For a moment, he doesn’t move. The tension in the room is suffocating, the weight of his anger pressing down on you like a vice.

And then, finally, he lets go.

You collapse to the floor, gasping for air, your body trembling violently as you clutch your throat.

The officers swarm him, grabbing his arms and pulling him away from you. He struggles against their hold, shouting obscenities, his voice wild and broken.

“She fucking lied!” he screams, his voice cracking. “She lied about everything!”

You don’t respond. You can’t.

All you can do is lie there, your chest heaving, your vision blurred with tears, as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.

The officers’ voices blur together, a cacophony of sound that you can’t quite make out. One of them kneels beside you, their hand on your shoulder, their voice soft and steady.

“Miss, are you okay?”

You don’t answer.

Your gaze drifts to Su-bong as they drag him toward the door, his screams echoing in the apartment.

And for the first time in years, you feel something you haven’t felt in so long—

Relief.

You know what’s good for you.

You’ve done what you could for him.

And he was finally gone.

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spread-the-influence · 2 months ago

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OH COOL ! A MASTERPOST !

a horror-comedy fan comic based on The Amazing Digital Circus where ragatha's the host of a parasitical virus and it becomes everyone's problem ! neat-o beans !

* this is also a VERY buttonblossom / pomni x ragatha-centric AU so if you don't enjoy that ship i don't recommend engaging with this sorry

[DISCLAIMER!] while this comic is mostly lighthearted in tone , this comic and au will contain topics that could disturb sensitive readers ! this includes ; graphic violence , depictions and discussions of emotional abuse , depictions of mental health issues , self-harm imagery , obsession , and discussions of suicide . any more specifics will be tagged in the pages , but these are the ones that encompass the Entire comic basically !

( also i hope it's a given that i'm not romanticizing the toxic yuri in this au , )

if any of these topics make you uncomfortable , it's alright to click away or block the #tadc influence au tag .

!! if you want to support this comic , try sharing and talking about it in other platforms OR throw some money at my ko-fi page ! it'll be radical either way !!

LINKS

>> READ THE BEGINNING !

or , if you prefer ...

* TABLE OF CONTENTS ( returning reader or just someone who's not up for scrolling through the tags ? here's the table of contents ! contains links to the comic pages all in one place , any extras , and possible relevant posts in the >>info; tag ! )

* FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS ! ( questions that i have constantly been asked ! )

* AU POST ! ( for those who have read the comic and are curious about the au — and people that want to spoil the first half of the comic for themselves . i don't judge ! )

* INFO CARDS ! ( info cards for the characters , just for funsies ! will contain blank templates for any ocs (: )

TAGS

[ highlighted are those of relevance + may be interesting ! ]

>>COMIC; - the comic ( be warned things will be out of order )

>>INFO; - specific asks about the au answered !

>>ASK; - old roleplay posts if you want to see em

>>MISC; - answered asks / non-comic stuff

WARNING: ESSAY - mod rambles

>>DOODLES; - doodles from yours truly

>>PRE-FLUENCE; - stuff before the horrors

>>POST-FLUENCE; - stuff after the horrors

>>ANIMATIONS; - ... animations

>>OFFICE LORE; - pre-circus

>>REBLOGS; - ... reblogs !

>>EXTRAS; - some extras or ' ambiguously canon ' comics !

GUIDELINES & BOUNDARIES

READ THE FAQ , PLEASE ! there are some questions that are , well , frequently asked ! so please read the faq and only send an ask if the question's not there

this is NOT an ask blog ! i will sometimes play along with ask blog-esque asks , but that's only just once in a while — so just please only ask me , the mod , for anything about the au !

you can call me mod bee . i go by she/her in this account

keep it impersonal please ! i would prefer if the asks are related to the au , my art , or tadc . i'm fine with being asked about my interests or what i think of something but otherwise , i appreciate if you do not ask about my life or what timezone i'm in .

my art is free to use ! feel free to use it as an icon , in an edit — anything really as long as you don't sell it or it's not used to spread hateful messages ! my only condition really is to credit me

reposts are fine ! just please make it clear that you did NOT create the art and LINK the account . i gave the free rein to repost the art , all i'm asking is to please respect these conditions !

please do not dm me . i do not like dms . any form of communication is only through the ask box .

i am uncomfortable with nsfw asks so please don't send them . i am fine with suggestive humor , though

remember to spread the influence.

#>>MISC;#tadc influence au

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teaspacebar · 6 months ago

Text

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit.

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?”

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again.

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head.

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain.

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago!

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth.

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!”

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register.

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.”

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!”

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron.

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal.

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.”

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!”

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous.

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips.

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns.

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick.

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor.

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?”

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #neurodivergent!reader #— moth writes

793 notes · View notes

adragonprinceswhore · 8 months ago

Text

The Commune

Cult Leader!Aemond x Niece!Reader

Summary: A modern AU where Aemond, power-hungry and high on hubris, is the leader of a commune with a peculiar affection for the Seven.

Warnings: 18+, dark themes (mind the tags!), AFAB reader, depictions of depression, manipulation, coercion, dubcon/noncon, targcest (no description of appearance), fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), facefucking, humiliation, (noncon) spanking, semi-public sex, P in V, breeding kink

Word Count: 19k

A/N: I've wanted to edit this for a while and finally got around to it! It took all week 🫠 I definitely feel like the fic got a face-lift! Enjoy ✨

Leaving

Your heart is beating fast and hard when you wake up.

The shrill sound of your alarm clock does little to ease your tense state, abruptly ruining the quiet calm that had previously occupied your bedroom. Without fully opening your eyes, you reach for its usual spot on the nightstand and press snooze, hoping for a little more serenity before you have to get up and face yet another insufferable day at work.

How could such a dull job cause you so much stress?

Why did it make you wake up each night with a heavy swirl of dread and anxiety tightening in your chest, rendering you unable to fall back asleep?

You’ve never been this tired before, yet you’ve never found sleep harder to obtain.

With a sigh you push yourself out of the warm comfort of your bed. It is so soft and smells like home; laundry detergent and the scented candle you keep on the nightstand.

The forced separation almost makes you cry as your body shivers in your chill bedroom.

Each day as heavy to bear as the next.

You grab the robe you have hanging on the back of the bedroom door and head for the kitchen with slow, heavy steps; dragging your feet behind you.

When had life turned so monotone?

When was the last time you truly enjoyed yourself without thinking about work?

Why did you find yourself in an existential crisis before you’d even had your morning coffee?

You load the small coffee maker, pull out a carton of yoghurt and dump some into a bowl before reaching for the packet of granola standing on top of your fridge.

You grab a mug, pour some coffee into it, and shake up your oat milk before adding a splash.

Same fucking breakfast each day.

Moving to the living room, you curl into yourself on your sofa, turning on the same morning show you always watch as you sip your coffee and feel a tiny bit of relief at the comfort that the warm liquid offers as it slides down your throat.

The unnaturally cheery hosts on TV are in the middle of some segment about reusing egg cartons when your phone vibrates. You already know who it is, tapping on the screen to see “mum” and her usual morning text, asking you how you're feeling and what you have planned for the day.

It's harder to pretend like everything's fine when it's her asking. She can always tell that you're faking it; that whatever you say is just an empty, repetitive attempt at assuring her that you are fine.

You don't really mean any of it.

And she knows.

You shoot her a quick reply, trying to ease her worries but not really having the energy to fully commit,

“I’m good, going to work and meeting up with Sara after”

A small lie, though you are planning on sending a text to see if Sara's available later. Regrettably, your weekly dinners had been reduced to monthly ones, but still.

Do it for mum.

“Have you finished checking the reports I asked you to look over?”

Gwayne does not even spare you a glance as he comes up to your desk in the office, eyes glued to his phone and thumbs violently tapping the screen. He wasn’t the worst boss to have, but he certainly wasn’t nice or understanding either, promptly ignoring any signs of distress you were showing. You know you have been looking worse and worse as the stress of the job has settled in; skin going duller and bags under your eyes becoming more prominent. Yet, he stubbornly says nothing, relying on you to finish work swiftly without ever talking back or asking for some guidance.

“Yes, I just have to glance them over one last time before I forward them to you”, you answer, noticing how tedious your voice has become.

He hums, eyes still on his phone,

“And then I’ll need you to double-check that you’ve replied to any urgent emails before going home today. Would really fuck up my schedule next week if I’d have to keep track of your inbox as well”

“Yes, sure”, you reply before even taking in what Gwayne had told you,

“Wait, what do you mean? Next week?”, you question, seeing him briefly scrunch his eyebrows together before finally looking up from his phone, locking eyes with you,

“Yes, you have next week off, remember? Last chance to use up those paid days off you’ve accumulated, and the union has made it quite clear that we cannot give you a bonus instead”, he rolls his eyes at the last part.

“Week off? But I have meetings lined up next week, deadlines closing in”

Despite knowing that you probably need the break, you feel the familiar tightening in your chest as you consider all tasks you were planning on doing next week.

Gwayne, seeming to be done with the conversation, turns and walks away from your desk, eyes again locked on his phone as he replies, “Then you’ll just have to get it sorted today”

“Well that’s lovely, sweetheart!”

Rhaenyra’s voice sounds relieved when you tell her the news of your unplanned week off. You had been forced to stay at the office for two additional hours just to make sure that you finished up any urgent business, resulting in you cancelling the dinner plans you'd made with Sara and consequently spending another evening by yourself at home.

“Why don’t you get away for a bit? You might enjoy a change of scenery?”, she asks.

You were too exhausted to even think about planning and booking a trip, replying “Yeah, sure” dispassionately as you stir the pot of pasta cooking on the stove.

All you want to do is lay in bed, listen to music and try as best as you can to turn your brain off; to not think about anything.

Contently brainless.

You don't want to think about how you’d gotten your dream job, just to realise that you despise it.

You don't want to think about how every day felt like a repetition of the one before, nothing exciting ever happening.

You don't want to think about the strong suspicion you have that every fucking choice you’ve ever made has lead you to a life that you detest.

“Why don’t you go visit Helaena? I know she’s misses you”, your mothers voice pulls you away from the negative thoughts spiralling in your head,

“I think the place is about two hours by train from Oldtown, out in the country. Maybe some fresh air would do you good?”

You knew Helaena had moved out to the country about a year ago, exhausted and overstimulated from the suffocating drain of the fast-paced city that King’s Landing is. She’d sent you a letter, not a text or a call, some time ago to let you know that she was okay and she’d love it if you came by to visit her.

“Mm, I do miss her…”, you mumble into your phone, thinking of the last time you’d seen her. It was Aegon’s birthday almost one and a half years ago. She’d seemed lost and sad. Like she often did.

Like you often did, nowadays.

“Yeah, maybe that’d do me some good”, you finally agree, hearing Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief at your words. You know she's worried you’d stay home all week, doing nothing but dwelling in sadness.

“That’s lovely, dear! I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic to see you. You know Aemond lives there too, right?"

You’d heard that Aemond had left King’s Landing shortly after finishing his PhD as well. You’d been with your mum when Alicent called her, filled to the brim with worry over her overachieving son turning down a position at Oldtown University in order to move out to the middle of nowhere, claiming that he’d be "conducting private research".

You had actually been excited for him to move to Oldtown. Having some family close by would’ve been a nice escape from the loneliness of the city.

Besides, you and Aemond had drifted apart as you both grew older, despite being thick as thieves in your childhood.

Maybe it’d be nice to see him too.

You lean your head against the train window, watching the city landscape make way for the lush greenery of the Reach in late summer.

Being trapped in the city you’d almost forgotten how beautiful it was here; a stark difference from Dragonstone, where you’d spent most of your upbringing.

It's not that you don't miss the sea. As a child, you'd loved the way the harsh, salty winds whipped at your face, leaving you wet and impossibly refreshed as you stared out towards the horizon, thinking of everything awaiting you there.

The potential of what your life could've become felt a lot more comforting than the reality of it.

You hadn't been able to call Helaena to inform her that you’d like to visit. Apparently, she didn’t have a mobile phone anymore, but after sending a text to Alicent you’d gotten a hold of her new number; a landline.

You didn’t know how she managed without a smartphone, but figured that the stress of constant notifications might have made her decide to ditch it.

Grabbing your bag from between your legs, your hand rummages through it in blind search for your pocket mirror.

You pull it out, open it and check your reflection.

Still the same tired face, with dark bags permanently residing under your eyes. You hadn’t slept well last night either, despite having some much needed rest from work.

Why was your body seemingly incapable of relaxing?

You feel around for some concealer, dotting a bit on your finger and patting it under your eye; a useless attempt at hiding the fatigue prevalent on your face.

Defeated, you lean back in your seat.

The train ride's nice. You spend the entire 2 hours and 12 minutes listening to music, watching the scenery flash by.

Thoroughly zoned out, you nearly miss the conductor announcing your station.

You hastily grab your bag and rush out of the door. The station, if you could even call it that, is small; just two tracks going opposite directions.

It's closer to a bus stop, a place where people get off and quickly make way to their final destination.

You spot Helaena immediately. She's standing on the platform in a lilac summer dress, her silver hair shining in the sunlight.

Although you can only really make out her silhouette, she seems different. As you come closer, the wide smile that she sports comes into view.

Gosh, she looks radiant!

So different from her gloomy, distant self back in King’s Landing.

“I’m so happy you’re here!”, she squeals, wrapping you in her arms.

She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, burying your nose in her hair. It feels good to hug someone you care for.

When was the last time you did that?

“Thank you for having me”, you respond as Helaena pulls away, still holding you in her arms, eyes flickering over your face.

Her smile falters for a second before it returns and she starts talking excitedly about her new home, telling you that it’s only a 20 minute walk from the station and you could catch up on the way.

You follow her down the steps from the platform, answering a few questions about work and your life in Oldtown.

She leads you away from the small station, down a path where a few houses lay scattered sporadically.

You can hardly call this a town; far too minuscule. Still, you notice what seems to be a little supermarket, a pharmacy, a gas station and what looks like an elementary school, facing the tiny town square.

“I’ve been hoping you’d come visit ever since I sent you that letter”, Helaena gushes, taking your hand in hers as she led you down a small path going off the main road,

“I just know you’ll love our commune. Aemond thinks so too!”, she continues while squeezing your hand in hers.

“Commune?”, you ask and turn to face her.

She met your eyes and nods, face breaking out into a wide grin once again,

“Yes, Aemond’s research project! You know he specialised in philosophy when he did his PhD in Political Science, right? Well, he got really into the idea of having people live in smaller communities instead of the impersonal and detached lifestyles people pursue in modern cities”, she explains, eyes once again inspecting your face, only to land on the bags under your eyes.

You hum in response, seeing if she’ll continue.

“So, he used some of the money he had stored away in funds and created our commune; a small community where everyone knows each other and we get away from the stresses of city life. We grow our own crops, spend time outside and work together to keep the place running”, she explains, eyes gleaming with adoration,

“He said he did it for me, since he saw how bad my depression had gotten back in King’s Landing”, she adds, and you squeeze her hand affectionately. Aemond had always cared for Helaena, no one else seemed to truly understand her like he did.

“So, you feeling better now? Out here?”, you inquire, gesturing towards the green field you walk through, hand in hand.

You're not really paying attention to where you're going as Helaena guides you. Looking up, you find yourself surrounded by nature; not a building in sight.

The sun shines brightly, illuminating the beech trees towering over you, creating a roof of light green luminance.

“Yes, much better”, she replies with a smile. She seems so at peace here, encapsulating a kind of beauty that comes from within and hypnotises anyone laying eyes on her.

“And this, ehm, commune. How many people live there now?”, you ask, not knowing you’d be spending your time with a bunch of strangers.

Truth be told, you really didn’t feel up for it.

You barely have energy to hang out with Helaena and Aemond. Entertaining and getting to know new people would be especially draining.

“We’re already about 50 people. Most of them met Aemond when he was still in school”, she replies.

As if she could sense your uneasiness, her eyes search yours as she adds, “You’ll love them, I swear! Everyone’s super nice”

Together, you continue your path, walking up a small hill. As you look down, the commune comes into view.

You see small, cottage-looking houses, with large flowerbeds between them, filled with everything from herbs to vegetables.

There's a large building the middle of the field with walls much taller than the cottages. The building's made out of wood; a dark tone that contrasts against the light trees and green fields you’d passed on the way over.

Above the large entrance of the building is a large carving, resembling the seven-pointed star of the Faith.

Helaena, still excitedly chatting next to you about how lovely life is out in the country, pulls you towards the large building in quick steps,

“Aemond's dying to meet you! It’s been so long. I bet he’s in the Sept”, she explains, leading you through the tall, open door.

Your parents aren't particularly religious, which means you hadn’t spent much time in Septs and the like. Alicent’s family, however, were rather devoted; an integral part of the many faith's many fractions in Oldtown.

When you were younger, both Helaena and Aemond had spent a lot of time studying The Seven-Pointed Star. Still, the fact that they'd chosen to construct a Sept in such a small community shocks you.

Maybe they're more dedicated than you’d thought?

Entering the Sept, you recognise the back of a tall man with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long, silvery hair, tied in a low bun.

Helaena calls his name and he turns around, finding your gaze in an instant. His lone, purple eye crinkles slightly as he smiles at you, calling out your name in greeting.

Just like Helaena, he looks radiant; pale skin glowing, dress shirt and dark slacks perfectly ironed, and not a hair out of place.

As a child he was always so moody; volatile and sensitive.

Now, he seems so calm.

Too calm.

Like he was faking it.

“Welcome to our home. I hope the trip here wasn’t too draining?”, he asks, inspecting your fatigued face.

Seven hells, did everyone think you looked like the walking dead?

“It was a lovely ride out here. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the country is” you answer, trying your best to sound cheerier than you look.

He hums at your answer, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. You can't make out if it's supposed to be an attempt at a greeting, or a way to comfort you.

His eye bores into yours,

“We’re so happy to finally have you here. Helaena will help you get sorted in one of our rooms and then I’ll introduce you to everyone”

His hand swiftly leaves your shoulder before he turns around, striding out of the large wooden doors of the Sept.

Reconnecting

After a few hasty greetings, you retreat to the room Helaena and Aemond have assigned to you.

You're exhausted from being bombarded with impressions, and collapse on your bed, finding uninterrupted sleep for the first time in months.

Hours later, you wake up to the sun illuminating your room, a low knocking sound by your door.

As your groggy mind slowly realises where you are, you hear Helaena call you from the outside, informing you that breakfast will be served in a few minutes.

You get up and move to the basin placed in the corner of your room, splashing some water on your face, checking your sleepy reflection.

You instantly notice that the heavy bags that had seemed to be a permanent feature under your eyes have faded slightly, and you look better and brighter than you had in a long time.

Mood elevated, you move to throw on a flowy, knee-length skirt and a linen blouse, reasoning that something loose-fitting would match the sunny, late-summer climate.

Stepping outside, the air is crisp.

The sun provides warmth as it makes contact with your skin, a welcomed relief to the slight chill still lingering.

You notice that the residents of the small community have gathered by a long, wooden table placed in the middle of a field not far away from where you stand. You quickly make your way there, spotting Helaena. Her eyes light up as she sees you approach, greeting you with a wide smile,

“We always have breakfast together”, she explains as people move around you swiftly, placing plates of bread, yoghurt, pastries, fresh fruit and vegetables on the massive table.

You spot Aemond, hands behind his back and posture straigh as he observes the people scurrying around him. He glances at you, giving you a small smile and a nod before he returns to his previously stoic state, observing the residents while they prepare for breakfast.

Helaena reappears next to you, arms wrapped around 5 glass vases filled with wildflowers. You help her place them on the table, admiring how utterly beautiful the set up looks.

The commune, as you'd heard one resident call it, has a simplistic aesthetic. Most rooms are only occupied by whatever furniture’s necessary to maximise functionality; tables, chairs and beds made out of wood, decorated with nature-toned linens.

Yet, there is a beauty to it you’d hardly seen before; an appreciation for a simple charm that's often lost in the hectic mess of cities like Oldtown or King’s Landing.

You take a seat next to Helaena, eager to devour the delicious-looking food in front of you.

Though most residents are seated by now, no one moves to touch the various plates filled to the brim with mouth-watering food.

You look over at the end of the long table and notice Aemond standing, hands still clasped behind his back. He softly clears his throat, and the cheery chatter dissolves in an instance, all eyes shifting to watch the tall, silver-haired man standing before them,

“Good morning. I hope you all slept well and feel ready for a day of prosperity”, Aemond starts, eye moving across the table to acknowledge everyone present.

Most of the residents are older than both you and Aemond. You even heard that a handful of them used to be his professors back in King’s Landing.

You're still not sure how he’d managed to get them all to move out here, but as he speaks, you notice how intensely everyone observes him, taking in every word that leaves his lips,

“Let us pray”, he orders, and each one of your tablemates bring their hands up to clasp over their empty plates before closing their eyes.

Aemond sends you a look you can’t really decipher. You assume he wants you to partake in the prayer, so you lower your head and clasp your hands together as well.

Aemond pays tribute to all seven faces of the new God before thanking all residents for attending, voice calm and steady.

As the prayers end, everyone shifts their focus to the food. You feel unsure of what to try; everything looks so good.

Helaena makes the decision for you, grabbing your plate, loading it with bread and various spreads and toppings for you to try.

“You’ll love this”, she urges as she places the plate in front of you, lilac eyes eagerly awaiting your reaction.

She's right. Everything tastes divine and you eat until you feel like your stomach is about to burst.

Meanwhile, you try to engage in some small-talk with the people sitting closest to you around the massive table.

To your right sits Jayne, a woman you’d guess to be in her early fifties, with sun-kissed skin and kind, brown eyes. She tells you about her tasks at here, mainly growing herbs and flowers.

She shoots a quick glance at a dark-haired woman sitting by Aemond further down the table, explaining that she grows and tends to various plants which are grown at the request of the woman she’s observing; Alys.

After breakfast you offer to help collect and wash up the dishes, feeling a strong need to be useful as you see all residents retreat to their respective tasks for the day.

As you circle the outside table with an already overfilled tray in your hands, you spot a tall figure appear beside you.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

You look to the side and see Aemond standing there. He's wearing a dress shirt and dark slacks today as well, though his hair is left untied, cascading down his shoulders and reflecting the light of the sun.

He offers you a timid smile as he asks, mimicking the way he used to look when he was younger. It's a stark contrast to how he appeared during breakfast; authoritative and intimidating.

You return his smile and nod. Perhaps a walk would do you good.

He instructs one of the residents to take over your work and they do so without protest. You send them an apologetic look and mumble a "thank you" as you follow Aemond, who’s already set sight on the small path leading away from the settlement and towards the compact trees of the surrounding forest.

The two of you walk in silence, basking in the lovely scenery surrounding you. The light green trees seem to shimmer in the sun, and as you make your way into the forest, you spot a small river; surface reflecting the lush greenery of the leaves.

“How is life in Oldtown? Has my uncle been giving you a hard time?”, Aemond asks, eye looking forward as he breaks the silence.

You swallow and mentally prepare yourself before answering, not wanting to let him in on how miserable you’ve been.

“Yeah it’s been interesting. A lot of new challenges but I’m hanging in there”, you answer, and despite your attempt at sounding casual, the sadness residing within you drips through and stains your voice.

Aemond abruptly halts and turns to you, eye boring into yours as he contemplatively licks his lips.

“There's no need for that here”, he states, voice suddenly sterner than before.

“What do you mean?”

Your cheeks grow hot and your palms feel clammy as you grow embarrassed over how easily he sees through your fake cheeriness.

“You don’t need to lie to me. It’s only us here, I won’t judge you”, he replies, maintaining the intense eye contact between the two of you.

It feels like a dam bursts within you; a force so strong you're helpless to it, and your sight turns blurry.

Any attempts you’ve made to appear strong have failed and all that is left is the truth; that you'r stuck in a permanent state of misery.

Broken.

You feel your throat close up and you desperately try to swallow before answering,

“I ha-, have been feeling a bit, ehm, lost”, you admit, and as you finally utter the words, admitting to yourself and confiding in him that you feel disoriented, tears spill out of the corners of your eyes.

You try to take deep breaths to soothe yourself and regain some control over your emotions, but it's too hard.

Why can’t you pull yourself together?

Aemond regards you for a moment, allowing you time to process the sudden crash of emotions overcoming you, before he places a hand on your upper arm, gently dragging his fingers over the fabric of your blouse.

“You’re allowed to feel lost”, he looks into your eyes and there is something there; a tenderness you haven’t seen since you were both much younger.

You can’t stop the tears from flowing anymore as you weakly nod at his words, the lump in your throat leaving you unable to properly answer him. His seeing eye is so gentle as it gazes into yours,

“Many of us here felt lost, hopeless even. But the community we’ve built allowed us to reconnect with our inner selves; helped us feel happier”

He moves the hand that had been on your arm to your face, experimentally stroking your cheek. You lean into his touch by reflex, relishing in the feeling of his warm hand on your wet cheek.

“You don’t have to pretend here, not with me”

As he speaks you move closer to him, pressing your body against his and wrapping your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly, just like you did so many times in your childhood.

He understands what you need and hugs you back, holding you against his chest, softly stroking your hair. And despite the agony in your chest and the lump in your throat, you feel okay; escaping into his warm embrace to momentarily forget all your sorrows.

You stay like that for a while, bodies interlocked with each other as Aemond lets you cry. He doesn't say anything, continuously stroking your hair. It feels emancipating; crying your heart out in the arms of your uncle.

As your tears dry, you gently push yourself away from Aemond’s embrace and run the back of your hand over your cheeks in an attempt to remove some of the wetness. Aemond’s eye still looks gentle as he regards you,

“I know that life's not always what you thought it’d be, and leaving home is scary. But you’re with family now. Me and Hel are so pleased that you’re here with us”

You smile at him, saying a quiet "thank you" as he motions for you to carry on with your walk.

You continue to talk and catch up on what’s been going on in your lives since you last met.

Aemond tells you about his research project; how he believes that modern capitalism renders people mere objects utilised for profit by companies, consequently leaving them lacking agency and without a belief in higher powers, generating a generation of depressed, lost souls.

You take in everything he says. He speaks with such confidence that you feel yourself agreeing instantaneously.

In truth, you also felt like an object at work; a machine there to execute tasks, without any possibility to change your condition.

You listen to him talk so intensively you don't even realise you’re back at the residence.

What sounds like a fight in hushed voices pulls you away from your conversation with Aemond as you look up to search for where the voices are coming from.

You see one of the residents you had breakfast with, Jayne, kneel down in front of Alys, grasping at her apron and pleading to her in a quiet, desperate voice,

“I didn't mean to, please believe me!”

Shocked, you look over at Aemond who suddenly looks stern, wrinkles forming between his eyebrows. His eye's set on the scene in front of you, yet he does not intervene.

As you open your mouth to ask him what's going on, he grabs your arm and promptly leads you into the Sept, closing the door behind you.

“Helaena will meet you here, she wanted to show you her insect farm. Do not leave until she collects you”, he commands, voice stoic but intimidating, leaving no room for argument.

Before you have a chance to reply he quickly opens the door, and leaves.

You spend the afternoon with Helaena, exploring her insect farm and listening to her tell you of all the benefits the farm provides.

Afterwards, you still feel the unease from earlier vibrate within you, causing you to feel restless. In an attempt to be useful, you offer to help some of the residents as they prepare the large outdoor dining space for supper.

You chat with one of the younger people there, a man who appears to be in his early 20’s called Jon.

He tells you about how he met Aemond. As part of his PhD programme, Aemond held some lectures for first-year students, and Jon had attended his class on international conflict and crisis.

They’d started talking outside of Aemond’s lectures and found that they had much in common, especially in regards to their view of the world, and what was wrong with it. Aemond had mentioned his wish to move out of the city with his sister, and Jon was intrigued in an instance.

You continue your conversation with Jon, finding him easy to chat with. He's surprisingly funny too, joking and making you laugh, easing your anxiety. Feeling yourself relax and grow more comfortable, you decide to pry a bit, confiding in Jon,

“I wasn’t brought up with the faith, so I have to ask. Why did you decide to build a large Sept in a small settlement like this?”, you ask as you help Jon place cutlery by the plates on the table.

His relaxed and cheerful demeanour stiffens at your question. His eyes leave the silverware on the table to meet yours,

“You don’t know?”

His face appears genuinely surprised, and his eyes are wide in question. Before you get a chance to answer, a raspy voice interrupts your conversation,

“Jon! How lovely of you to entertain our guest”

The woman who you’ve learned goes by Alys appears, emerald eyes locking with yours as you turn to meet her.

“I’m Alys, it is so nice to meet you”

She stretches out a hand and gives you a practised smile. Her features looks pleasant; far from how harsh they'd appeared when Jayne had been kneeling before her.

You try to smile back at her and tell her your name, though you suspect she already knows exactly who you are. You look over at Jon who appears nervous, hands fidgeting with a fork.

“I believe Aemond wants to see you, in his office”, Alys sight does not leave Jon, eyes boring into him, but you both know she is addressing you.

You can’t come up with anything to say or do; anxious to find out what it is that Aemond wants from you and desperate to get away from the intense, silent fight between Jon and Alys taking place before your eyes.

You shoot Jon a quick apologetic glance before moving toward the Sept, leaving him with Alys.

Aemonds office is located behind the large altar in the Sept. As you approach, you feel yourself grow tenser; stiffer.

You quickly try to run your sweaty palms over your skirt before raising one hand and softly tapping your knuckles against the heavy wood.

Aemond calls for you to come in and you enter, standing awkwardly by the door.

What does he want with you?

Had you overstepped when you spoke with Jon?

Or will he let you in on what had happened between Alys and Jayne when you came back from your walk?

Something about this place and Aemond makes you unexplainably uneasy, but you're unable to pin-point what it is that reduces you to a mess of nerves.

Your eyes keep flicking up at Aemond and down at the floor. You can't maintain eye contact with him, his stare too intense.

Fiery.

“I heard you offered to help Jon prepare supper?”, he inquires. His voice is completely devoid of any emotions, making your uneasiness grow.

He had an eerie calmness to him that did little to soothe you; rather, it made you grow even more restless.

“Y-, yes, well, I only helped him with bringing out plates and such”, you rushedly explain, words pouring out of your mouth, “I'm so sorry if I overstepped or made a mistake, that wasn’t my intention”

Aemond beckons you over, pushing his chair from where it’s placed by the desk, holding out his hand. You grab it without a second thought and he begins stroking his thumb over the back of your palm, looking up at you, a sliver of sympathy evident in his dark gaze,

“Why did you assist him?”, he asks softly and you answer that you just wanted to be helpful; that it feels strange seeing everyone else work hard and not contribute.

Aemond hums and leans back in his chair, hand still holding yours.

“You shouldn’t do other peoples chores for them. Everyone here has responsibilities that they should conduct in solitude”, he explains and you nod, though you can’t understand the harm in helping someone with a menial task like setting the table for supper.

“Don’t worry, no one is upset with you”, he adds to reassure you that you haven’t wronged anyone. You feel yourself relax somewhat, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

Aemond looks you over and his gaze stops at your shoulders, noticing the strain there,

“You are still so tense”, he notes and you hum.

Stress, working at a desk for over 40 hours per week and lack of sleep had left your body in a constant, rigid state.

“Come here”, he commands and tugs at your arm unexpectedly, making you stumble forward. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, placing you on his thigh.

He looks into your eyes and the close proximity makes you slightly uncomfortable.

“You’ve always been so nervous; anxious since we were young”, he says as the hand that had been holding yours travels down to rest on your clothed thigh. The arm he has around you midriff tightens as if he’s expecting you to move away,

“Let me help you relax”, he offers, voice soft.

With gentle fingers, he slowly traces patterns on your leg. You do not know what he means by helping you, but you trust him.

He managed to makes you feel better before.

You stay put on his lap and he takes that as permission to continue, letting his hand travel down to where your skirt ends, fingers caressing your knee.

A breath gets caught in your throat as his hand moves upwards, slinking in under the fabric of your skirt; warm palm softly touching the smooth skin of your thigh. Aemond lets out a sigh at the contact and you suddenly feel uneasy, squirming in his grip.

“Aemond, what are you doing?”, you ask, voice slightly panicked.

His arm tightens around your waist as you try to move, hand continuing its path up your skirt.

“Didn’t it feel liberating to ease the pressure within when you cried in my arms earlier?”, he inquires and you look at him puzzled.

He still appears stoic but the pupil of his eye is blown wide; enveloping his iris.

“Let me take care of you. Just relax”, he commands as his hand reaches the apex of your thighs, index finger coming up to touch your bundle of nerves over your underwear experimentally.

You gasp and try to squirm out of his hold again, but he is much stronger; body rigid as he holds you.

He moves his head down to rest in the crock of your neck, shushing your protests. His fingers continue their slow massage over your underwear, and you feel yourself grow wetter from his attention.

Both your mind and your body have frozen.

Although you know it’s wrong, you let yourself lean into the pleasure Aemond is providing you, feeling yourself drift away; mind letting go of your senses as Aemond's touch consumes you.

When his fingers travel to the edge of your underwear, sliding inside, it’s like a bucket of cold water is poured over you.

You regain consciousness, bringing your hand up to try and push his away,

“Aemond we can’t do this, don’t-”, you plea, embarrassed by the fact that you can feel the evidential stickiness of your arousal between your legs.

Aemond tuts at you and pushes his fingers to make contact with the skin of your cunt, delighted at the wetness that greets him,

“You want this", he speaks quietly into your neck, "You need this. Be a good girl for me and let it happen”

You sit in his lap stiffly and as you're about to protest once more, his fingers circle your clit, causing a startled moan to slip out of your disobliging mouth.

Aemond chuckles against your skin and presses a light kiss to your neck,

“I knew you’d like it”

His words feel taunting, and your cheeks sear with shame.

The conflicting feelings storming inside you do little to hinder the arousal you're experiencing.

As his fingers travel down to your entrance, you again feel your common sense slip away and pleasure overtaking you.

He gathers some of the wetness from your entrance and brings it back up to your clit, making you sigh in involuntary pleasure again.

He positions his hand so that the heel of his palm is right by your bundle of nerves, leaving his fingers free to tease your entrance. He stays like that for a while, teasing you while pressing his palm against your clit.

The pleasure builds inside of you at a rapid pace.

He slowly sinks two fingers inside and you cannot contain the loud moan that escapes you, grabbing his arm with both hands. You grip him tightly, but cannot bring yourself to pry his hand away like you’d tried before, the pleasure too overpowering.

He sets a steady pace, palm pushing against your clit and fingers continuously finding that spot within you that causes your thighs to shake.

Your breath grows heavy, pleasure tightening inside you rapidly, and suddenly you don't want him to stop.

You hear Aemond’s breath growing laboured against your neck as well, giving it his all as he holds you in place and pleasures you.

You bite your lip to not let more moans slip out as pleasure begins to consume you.

Why did it feel so good?

Your walls began to contract against Aemond’s fingers as your peak approaches, and distantly, you hear him encourage you to let go.

As you do, you let out a pleasured cry, soaking his fingers. Your body stiffens while pleasure shoots through you; traveling from your lower stomach to your chest and down your limbs.

Your body slumps against Aemond, who moves his face out from the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispers,

“Good girl”

Assimilating

You can’t take in anything Helaena is saying.

You watch her lips move, try your hardest to take in her words, but nothing sticks. You hum and nod in reply, but haven’t got a clue to what you just agreed.

Should you tell her about what happened in Aemond’s office?

What if she tells him?

What if she tells mum?

Bile rises in the back of your throat at the thought.

What if your mum found out what her brother had done with her daughter?

What if she found out how good he’d made you feel?

That you liked it.

The only consolation to your misery is the fact that Aemond is sitting where he’d sat before, at the end of the long, beautifully decorated wooden table, looking out at everyone as if nothing was wrong. Like this was any other supper.

Maybe nothing was wrong?

Maybe you'd just imagined the entire thing?

Still, you can't bear to meet his gaze. You continue to channel all of your energy into the conversation you were having with Helaena. Or rather, that she was having with you.

“So when the queen bee dies, her workers will select a new queen from the larva and feed her this special thing called ‘royal jelly’ to make her fertile”, she cheerily says, smiling from ear to ear,

“Everyone here in our community gets to focus their attention on their chosen topic of interest, mine being insects and biology. I’ve learned so much, nature is truly fascinating”

Again, you notice how elated Helaena seems to be here. Her eyes shine as she continues to tell you about her life in the country, tending to insect farms.

It's hard to imagine that this is the same girl who’d been a shell of a person before.

As children, she had developed a tendency to pull away from others, choosing to fold into herself and push the world around her away.

Seeing her this animated and filled with life should make you happy for her.

But it feels off.

The following days go by quickly.

Sensing your need to feel useful, the members of Aemond's commune assign you daily tasks, like helping out with harvesting plants, preparing meals and cleaning up the Sept.

The building doesn’t seem to be used for ceremonies or communal prayer. Instead, the residents utilise it privately throughout the day; though you're not let in on their purpose.

Although not being too familiar with the Seven, you swear you could remember Aemond and Helaena attending services at the Sept when you were younger, not merely going there in solitude. Maybe they prayed together as well sometimes?

Another benefit of focusing on productivity was the distraction it gave you from thinking about what had occurred between you and your uncle three days prior.

Despite the initial disgust you'd felt, you had now decided that if you acted like it never happened, maybe it never did.

You’d sworn to never bring it up with Aemond, or ever tell anyone else for that matter.

He was still the Aemond you’d grown up with; the sensitive boy with a strong will, always on a mission to prove himself.

He’d always been a bit too ‘by the book’. Maybe he sincerely thought that you would enjoy it?

He might've read something about Freud’s theory on female hysteria and the power of orgasmic release, seeing the act as more of a medical procedure than a sexual encounter?

A weak theory, but still.

---

Despite helping out at every corner of the residence, you hadn’t seen Alys since leaving her with Jon.

But this morning, after Aemond had asked you to help the residents clean up the leftovers from breakfast, you spot her standing next to your uncle, talking about something in hushed voices while watching the residents tidy up.

Although you'd only spent a few days here, Aemond and Alys' position at the top of the hierarchy of the small community was evident.

They both had an air of authority about them that was hard to overlook, making the pair appear intimidating in a way that only a strict superior could.

Yet, they both choose to be soft spoken whenever they address the residents, often complimenting them on their diligent work.

Observing the duo, you notice Aemond nod towards you, which prompts Alys to approach, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder,

“I’d like for you to help me today”, she states, and although her voice is soft, as if asking a question, there seems to be no room for disagreement.

She ushers you to follow her as she makes way towards one of the almost overflowing flower beds; copious plants fighting for space.

Like every day since your arrival, the weather is practically perfect; sunny but with a comforting breeze passing through the fields. Alys reaches for two weaved baskets resting against the small cottage wall close by and hands you one before kneeling down by the flower bed. You follow her, admiring the abundance of herbs in front of you.

You’d never witnessed such a variety of plants grow so vigorously together. You’d hardly thought it to be possible. Maybe the weather and temperature conditions here were optimal? Or maybe they’d genetically modified the crops?

Alys' gentle, low voice breaks the silence,

“How has the stay here been for you so far?”

Even though you’d told yourself; decided that you’d never think about what had happened between you and Aemond in his office again, her questions forces your mind back there.

Sitting on his lap. His fingers inside you; stretching you out.

You shake your head slightly in an attempt to erase the thought.

You’re never going to think about that again.

You can’t.

“It’s been great. Everyone’s so welcoming and I’ve been able to spend a lot of time with Helaena”, you reply, focusing on the positive aspects of your visit.

It was all true; during your time here you’d felt welcomed and comforted. Cared for, even.

“That’s lovely”, Alys replies with a smile as she begins to pick basil leaves off the thin stem of the plant. “We’ve worked hard to create an environment where our residents can thrive, just like you seem to be doing”, she explains and your forehead wrinkles in contemplative confusion.

Are you thriving here?

You certainly look a lot better.

Your skin has almost started to glow. You wake up in the mornings feeling refreshed and rested.

But that could just be down to the fact that you’d found uninterrupted sleep. Plus, the appetising food served here seems healthy, consisting of ingredients the residents grew and prepared themselves.

“Well, the fresh air and delicious meals certainly help one thrive”, you reply with an unconvinced chuckle.

Alys’ eyes light up as they sweep over your face,

“You enjoy the food? I’m happy to hear that. I’ve put all of the past year's energy into curating the plants, grains and menu here”, she tells you, pride causing her to straighten up, sitting a bit taller.

“You truly have a gift, Alys. Any tips for an amateur like me?”, you inquire, relaxing a bit now that the conversation has taken a lighter turn.

She smiles at you and pulls out a small, green tin from the large pocket in the middle of the apron she’s wearing. She opens the lid and pulls out brass spoon. It’s filled with what looks like dirt, or clay, and smells similar to a compost.

Your nose wrinkles as she scoops some of the brown mush inside the tin onto her spoon, placing it by the plant's roots before firmly patting it down with the back of the utensil.

“I was doing my PhD at King’s Landing University before moving here. I was researching phytotherapy”, she explains as she scoops out another spoonful of brown mush from the tin and moves to add it to the next plant's roots.

“I was in my final year, fully consumed by my dissertation. Despite loving the topic, I was so stressed by my academic career that I seriously considered dropping everything and moving back to Harrentown. Then, I heard my professor tell me about this brilliant young man in the Political Science department”

Speaking about Aemond, her eyes almost look dreamy,

“His ideas were so radical, yet so natural, you know? He wanted to create a community where people were allowed to pursue their passions without the stressors of modern society. Where the Seven provide enough guidance”

You feel uneasiness creep up your spine. Her facial expression is almost trance-like as she talks about Aemond; as if he's a deity, ready to be worshipped.

“Well, modern society provides us with plenty of comforts as well, don’t you think?”, you counter with a strained laugh, trying to ease the mood a bit,

“What would you do if, like, one of the members got sick?”

Alys huffs a laugh as well and smiles to herself as she eyes the tin in her hand,

“We always get by”

After a quick lunch break, you continue to help Alys with various tasks around the residence; picking flowers, vegetables and herbs for her, plucking out weeds and organising seeds for future harvests.

You’d never seen seeds like the ones she showed you before; pitch-black in colour and almost supernaturally round.

When she saw your expression, she snorted a laugh and explained that they were from Yi Ti, used by herbalists for centuries.

She did not, however, answer you when you asked what they were going to be used for.

Although her presence had felt intimidating at first, you'd now grown calm around Alys. Something about her was almost bewitching.

Like the way her emerald eyes would lock with yours whenever you spoke, or how graciously she moved about the commune, greeting each resident in a gentle voice.

You also noticed that they never met her gaze, eyes cast down as she approached, only uttering a few polite phrases before rushing away.

Feeling more at ease spurred your confidence, and so you ask her what you’ve been aching to know for the past days,

“The other day…-", you begin with a wavering voice,

"-What happened between you and Jayne?”

You try to sound as casual as possible, but it only makes you sound strange.

Alys, who’s been picking some wildflowers from one of the fields close to the residence, doesn’t slow her pace for even the briefest of moments as she answers you, eyes still on the stem of the flower in front of her,

“Nothing for you to worry about”

She plucks the flower and gently places it in her weaved basket before moving to the next one.

“Okay”, you reply with uncertainty, “She seemed very upset though”

Alys finally looks up from the flowers she’s plucking and meets your gaze,

“Actions have consequences. I’m sure you know that. But with the justice of the father and the grace of the mother, mistakes can be forgiven”

Her face is much sterner than before. The comfort of familiarity that had blossomed between the two of you disappears in an instance, and you feel uneasy as her eyes narrow.

“Jayne has been forgiven and we will move forward. Just like how Aemond forgave you”

Alys turns around and quickly makes way towards the Sept, disappearing inside and closing the door behind her.

Forgave you for what?

For what happened in Aemond's office?

Did she know about that?

As the members of the commune prepare for supper, you go back to your room to have some time to yourself, mindlessly scrolling your phone while lying in bed.

The reception out here's not great, and now that you think about it, you hadn't seen any mobile phones during your stay, only a land-line hanging on the wall in Aemond's office.

After what happened with him, your mind had been too preoccupied to put any focus on replying to messages. You see a few from your mum and send her a quick reply to let her know that you’re doing well.

Seeing her name appear, you feel uneasy; like she knows of the secret you harbour. You feel guilty. And disgusted.

A sudden commotion outside throws you back into reality; back into the commune.

You hear raised voices, some sounding familiar, and you swiftly place your phone in your pocket before heading out.

You see Jon, eyes wide and face pale, on his knees in front of Aemond, mimicking how Jayne and Alys had looked a few days ago.

Aemond’s face is hard to read.

He looks stoic, yet his eye is furious; dark gaze glaring down at Jon.

Unlike Jayne, Jon doesn’t say anything. He raises his hands in surrender and locks eyes with Aemond; wordlessly pleading.

But for what?

By now, many of the residents have gathered around the two young men. Some look scared, others intrigued.

“Do you believe the Father to be just?”, Aemond’s soft voice asks, contrasting his utterly frightening appearance. Jon nods eagerly, eyes wide in panic.

“Then you’ll accept a punishment befitting the sin you’ve committed?”

Jon stiffens slightly, but eventually lowers his head in a slow nod. His eyes cast down to the ground; head hanging in surrender.

Aemond hums and pulls out a knife from the inside of the jacket he’s wearing over his usual white shirt and dark slacks.

It’s one you recognise. It had been gifted to Aemond on his 12th birthday by your grandfather, who’d declared that he was now a young man; a young Targaryen man, and therefore needed his own reminder of his Valyrian heritage.

Aemond flips the dagger in his hand as he regards the man before him, holding his hand out in an invitation to Jon. He wordlessly places his hand in Aemond’s, and you can now clearly see that he is shaking.

Aemond turns his hand so that he’s holding the back of it, Jon’s palm turned upwards,

“Mistakes can be forgiven, but justice must prevail”, Aemond speaks. His voice is louder than before to address the crowd gathering around him and Jon. It reminds you of a lecture.

Perhaps this is how he'd conduct classes at university?

The residents around you murmur in agreement. Aemond raises the dagger in his hand, eye cast down to make contact with Jon’s. He’s trembling out of fright and Aemond almost looks pleased at the display in front of him,

“We all need reminders of our wrongdoings, to prevent us from repeating them. Whenever you lose sight of the light, Jon, this will remind you to seek out the guidance of the Seven”, Aemond’s calm voice rings out as he suddenly presses the dagger into Jon’s palm.

He grunts in pain as the blade breaks his skin and blood flows freely from his hand. Aemond’s knuckles are white from the force in which he’s holding onto Jon’s hand, refusing to let the younger man go, staring into his eyes with a look so intimidating it demands submission.

You can’t take in the scene in front of you; can’t comprehend what’s happening.

As reality slowly comes back to you, you try to speak up, try to tell Aemond to stop, but your body doesn’t obey you; frozen in shock.

The other residents watch quietly, not making a sound as Aemond and Jon stay still, blade still penetrating Jon’s palm as his mouth winces in pain.

Your uncle finally pulls away from Jon, gesturing for Alys to move forward. She quickly pulls out some gauze from one of the pockets of her apron and kneels down next to Jon, gently wrapping it around his palm; blood pulsing out furiously.

Aemond’s stoic facade seems to falter slightly as his breathing turn laboured; jaw shut tight. He appears agitated, giving Jon and Alys one final look before stalking away towards the nearby path leading to the forest where he’d taken you for a walk a few days prior.

Your body finally obeys you as you call out his name in an urgent voice,

"Aemond!"

What the fuck had you just witness?

Aemond doesn’t turn around. He walk away in quick, angry steps, silhouette growing smaller and smaller. You throw a quick glance at Jon, whose face is even whiter than before, gauze around his palm already dark red with blood seeping through it.

You cannot bear to take in the gory sight, a thousand questions going through your head. You need answers, so you make your way towards where Aemond had disappeared.

The path into the forest grows blurrier as a thick fog settles over the commune. Still, you make your way towards where Aemond had disappeared, determined to confront him about what you’d just witnessed.

You spot a form in the white mist, sitting on a stump with his head in his hands. You approach quickly, thoughts still spinning in your head.

What was that all about?

Why did you cut Jon?

Why did he agree?

If he did agree, that is.

The fear that was etched on Jon’s face as he knelt before Aemond made you shiver. He’d seemed so scared of him; scared of what he might do to him.

Still, no one had interfered as your uncle cut the hand of one of the members of their community.

Is this the norm?

Aemond looks up as he hears your footsteps approach, face as unreadable as always.

“What the fuck was that, Aemond?!”

Your voice is shrill and accusing. Your eyes seek out his as you stop before him; expression furious and chest heaving.

“You need to call a medic or something, Jon’s bleeding heavily!”

Your cheeks feel hot as fury rolls through your body, setting it alight.

It’s amplified by the seemingly unrepentant state of the man before you.

“Don’t question how we do things here”, he warns, eye just as furious as it had been before,

“Jon knew the consequences of stepping out of line. We all do”.

“What could he have done to make you mutilate his hand?!”, you counter. You still can’t fully comprehend what had happened mere moments ago.

Had you just witnessed bodily mutilation in the name of religion?

Aemond clicks his tongue, displeased with your accusations. He tries to school his face into a calmer demeanour as he looks you over,

“Sit down and I’ll explain”, he offers, gesturing for you to take a seat on the damp grass in front of him.

Despite your initial desire to defy him, purely out of spite, your curiosity wins as you take a seat in front of the stump where he sits.

“Everyone living here has consented to our communal agreement”, he begins. You can’t help the scoff that slips out. He continues,

“One of the reasons why people feel so depressed and out of place is due to the secularisation of the modern world. They’ve lost their connection to the Seven; lost sight of the light. A belief in the divine brings us closer together. Closer to the seven faces of the God”

“You all need help if you believe that physical violence will bring you closer to the gods”

It's hard to hide the disgust in your voice. Aemond’s jaw shuts tightly and the calmness on his face looks forced,

“Help me then”, he bites back, irritation penetrating his serene facade. “Pray with me”.

He grabs both your hands suddenly and traps them in his, lowering his head as he recites a prayer you haven’t heard before.

You try to pull your hands away but his grip is iron-like as he continues to mumble the prayer under his breath.

After a while, he grows quiet, yet keeps the grip around your hands. You look up at him. He's already awaiting your gaze.

Aemond looks like he’s contemplating something; different from his usual, determined state.

“Maybe you should help me like I help you; easing the pressure from within”

His hands pull yours towards the zipper of his slacks. Your body freezes in shock for a brief moment, then quickly pull away from him in reflex.

His grip on your hands is tight. He'd anticipated you'd fight back.

He brings your hands towards his crotch, now in such a tight grasp that your fingers ache. There's a hardness there, and your mouth goes dry, a rush of anxiety go through your body,

"Aemond, no, not aga-", you begin but he cuts you off.

“Would you prefer it if I told Helaena what you let me do to you in my office?"

His voice is foreign; cold and uncaring.

This is not the Aemond you know. The one who let you cry out in his embrace.

This is the Aemond they know.

"Or should I tell my other sister?”

You feel cold all over, shivering at his words.

A threat.

He lets one of his hands leave yours and undoes his zipper. He pulls out his length; already hard and furiously red.

You’re once again consumed by feelings of unreality.

This can’t actually be happening, right?

Aemond grips one of your hands, grasping it painfully hard as he pulls it towards his cock.

He presses into the sides and bends your fingers so they circle around him; much larger hand enveloping yours as he forces you to cool his desire.

He sets a fast pace; letting you know exactly how he likes it. His other hand moves towards your mouth, stunning you yet again as he pushes two fingers into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to pull your head away, he brings his spit-covered fingers down to your hand - the one he's using to pleasure himself with - and smears your saliva over the palm before guiding it back to his length again.

As your slick hand makes contact with his burning flesh once more, he grunts and closes his eyes; brows knit together in bliss. He lets you continue the motion by yourself, hands falling to the sides of his lap.

In the middle of this surreal experience, you can’t help but look up at him, admiring his beauty.

Such an intimidating man, instilling fear in so many around him, currently at your mercy.

You almost feel a headrush at the thought; having Aemond in the palm of your hand. Literally.

The continuous friction of your hand against his flesh removes some of the stickiness, and you hear him let out something similar to a whine as your hand grows drier.

His previously intimidating features suddenly look pleading as he gazes down at you, asking you to just comply.

Just give him this.

Without much thought of the consequences, instead of licking your palm, you move your head toward his length, darting your tongue out and licking a stripe over his tip. He lets out a surprise moan, and the unexpected feeling of pride rushing through your body makes your stomach turn.

You are not enjoying this!

Still, the praise travels down and settles in your core, causing a dull throb to pound between your thighs.

Then why does it feel so good to be praised by him?

You continue to pleasure him with your hand, though Aemond’s eye has traveled down to observe your mouth. His gaze occasionally flickers down to your clothed chest, peeking at the sliver of cleavage visible from above. One of his hands grasp your chin,

“Do that again”, he commands, and the disgust you'd felt towards yourself swirls in your belly again.

You shake your head, “No”

He lets out a grunt, hand still on your jaw as he slowly and firmly brings your head closer to his manhood.

Like before, you try to push away from him, to gain some sense of control, but he is far stronger than you,

“You do as I say”, he counters, and in one swift motion, he pulls your head towards his cock with such force that you nearly knock your forehead against his stomach.

As you part your lips to protest, he pushes himself inside of your hot, wet mouth, sighing in relief.

You feel panic come over you as you try to pull away, but he quickly places both hands on your head; keeping you in place.

“Breath through your nose. Be the good girl I know you are”

He grunts and begins to buck into your mouth.

You place your hands on his thighs in another feeble attempt at escaping his assault on your mouth, but to no avail. He drags your face over his length, palms moving to grab each side of your head as his movements grow quicker. You gag slightly.

“You feel so fucking good”, he breaths out, voice drunk on lust,

“You look so fucking good with my cock in your mouth, you know that?”

It feels like he's mocking you. It sounds like he adores you.

His thumb gently brushes away some of the strands that has fallen over your face.

The want in between your legs throb. The disgust in your stomach rumbles. You know that his words of praise shouldn’t make your underwear sticky.

But they do.

Your eyes water as he continues to fuck your mouth, not giving you any rest. You try to whine against him to make him stop; to at least let you come up for air, but he takes your sounds as moans and groans, moving in your mouth faster and harsher.

Finally sensing your need for a break, he manoeuvres your head off of his cock. You pant heavily as you gulp for air; lungs hurting from the sudden, sharp inhale.

A string of saliva connects your lips to his length, and his eye seems to be even more lust-filled as he moves his hand to caress your flushed cheek.

Even in this selfish, pleasure-driven madness, he regard you with fondness.

“Aemond, please, we can’t do this”, you plea.

His gaze flickers from your spit-soaked, swollen lips to your cleavage, and then back.

He doesn’t grant you a reply as he stands up abruptly, taking advantage of your startled state and shoves his length back into your mouth.

Your hands instinctively come up to his legs to have something to hold onto as he fucks your face with even more vigour than before, swearing under his breath.

You feel disgusted at the vicious arousal pooling in your stomach, seeping out of your core.

How could something so degrading feel so sensual?

How could you feel aroused by your uncle using you like this?

Aemond moves his hands to the back of your head, pushing you so that your nose makes contact with the hairs at the bottom of his stomach. He pushes his hips against you harshly and lets out a prolonged grunt.

You gag and stifle a cough, feeling his hot liquid fill your throat, then your mouth.

He slowly pulls away, hands still gripping your head as his eyes return to their wholly intimidating appearance,

“Swallow”, he demands, placing a large palm over your mouth, blocking your nose as well.

You know that you have no choice but to oblige him and force the sticky, salty fluid down your throat with a wince.

Aemond gives your kneeling form one last once-over before letting out a hum, swiftly putting his cock back into his trousers.

Without another word, he leaves, and you're left on your knees by the stump, fog now so thick that you can hardly see the path leading back to the residence.

You wipe away the spit trailing from the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand before standing on shaky legs.

Could you pretend like this never happen either?

As if in a trance, you make your way back to the commune; head filled with thoughts, yet too exhausted to comprehend anything.

You move to the basin placed in the corner of your room, reaching for your toothbrush without looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

You brush your teeth three times, reapplying tooth paste as the lather in your mouth disappears.

You want to get the taste of him out of your mouth.

It doesn’t go away.

Realising that you’ve been carrying your phone in your pocket this whole time, you tap the screen. A few new message from your mother and brother.

You hadn't even noticed.

Without checking, you turn your phone off, tossing it in your bag as you make your way to the bed.

You feel exhausted. Disgusted. Aroused.

This can’t be real.

Forgiving

The sheets of the bed are soft against your skin.

The rays of the morning sun shine through your window, and in the glow of the day’s early hours, you feel rested; comforted by the cosiness of your bed.

As you turn to the side, snuggling into the duvet, you wonder why this comforting place ever caused you to feel unease.

And then you're reminded of last night.

The memory makes a shiver go down your spine and your body trembles; trying to shake the chill away. Still, the feeling crawling under your skin doesn’t quite disappear.

Usually, you wouldn’t be able to sleep in the anxious state you’d been in last night.

Yet, for some reason, as soon as your head touched the cool pillow, you’d fallen into uninterrupted slumber.

Though your mind was spinning from all the conflicting thoughts you were having, your body was surprisingly relaxed; well-rested and freed from tension.

You’re hungry too, you notice. The rumble in your stomach vibrates, prompted by the clatter of the residents preparing for breakfast outside.

Without much thought, you get up, get ready and head outside. The warm rays of the sun greet you and you have to squint in order to see who’s already seated at the long table.

To your surprise, you’re met by the same scene as the last couple of days.

Aemond is standing by the edge of the wooden table, speaking with Alys. Jon is carrying bread in a large basket, carefully placing a few buns in each empty bowl placed on the table. Helaena is fussing over the wildflowers adorning the table, laughing as Jayne tells her something you can’t make out.

The scenery is still perfect, despite what had occurred the day before between Aemond and Jon.

Between Aemond and you.

You walk towards the table and take your usual spot next to Helaena, offering her a strained smile as she greets you. You’d thought keeping up appearance would prove to be a true challenge, but right now you feel oddly at peace; calm even. And hungry.

As soon as Aemond finishes thanking the Seven in his morning prayer, you begin to pile food on your plate.

Everything looks mouthwatering, the freshly baked bread still warm in your hand as you tear it apart and smother it in butter. You usually weren’t the type to have an appetite when you feel anxious or stressed, but today your uneasy state only works to amplify your hunger.

As you eat, the stress that had been causing nervous waves to ebb through your body stills, and you feel more at ease. Your mind is calmer, less crowded with thoughts.

Numb.

As you finish your meal, you look up from your plate to watch the scenery surrounding you, appreciating the lush greenery of the commune that had been lost on you before.

The rays of the sun shine through the gaps between the leaves of the bright green beech trees encircling you, casting a gorgeous glow over the residence.

Gods, it's beautiful here.

You look over at Helaena, whose hair seems to shimmer in the sun. Her smile only highlights her beauty; lilac eyes kind with a glint of something playful.

“Do you want to help me with my insect farm today? I’m going to go check on the crickets now after breakfast”, she asks, tone as pleasant and upbeat as it always is here.

“Sure”, you reply, standing up to follow her.

She walks behind one of the small cottages, and an array of insect farms come into view.

They resemble little houses made of wood, and even standing a good few metres away, you can see insects crawling all over the wood.

Helaena moves between them swiftly, peeking inside to see how her favourite creatures are faring. You’d never understand her obsession with such creepy beings, but watching her now, you feel warmth in your chest. She looks so happy; so at peace.

This really is the perfect place for her.

She beckons you over to one of the miniature houses and you approach her wearily, unable to hide the aversion you felt for the bugs.

Helaena giggles as she sits down on the ground to gain better access to the farm, nodding her head in a silent instruction for you to do the same. You join her, though you sit down slightly behind where she is, hoping she can provide you some distance from the insects littering each piece of wood of the farm.

“Are you sure you have to leave by the end of the week? I’d love for you to stay here longer”, she sighs, eyes fixed on the insects in front of her. She’s brought a small pouch with her which she opens, fingers digging inside for some seeds to feed her six-legged friends.

“I have to get back to work”, you answer, already dreading the inevitable.

The constant stress, the sleepless nights, Gwayne's endless nagging.

Would you be able to sleep as well as you did out here back home?

Would sleep feel as serene?

Despite all the uneasy situations you’d found yourself in, an unfamiliar sense of calm settles on your chest, pushing down your anxiety.

Maybe things would be easier if you stayed out here? Just for a while longer?

You're pulled out of your thoughts as Helaena speaks up again, eyes still on the farm, hand now buried deep within its walls, placing seeds inside for the insects to fight over.

“I think you’d be better off here. I saw you in a dream, you know. You were smiling, wearing a beautiful crown of flowers, holding hands with Aemond”

You feel yourself stiffen.

“He told me you’d come when he invited me to live with him here”, she continues, eyes finally straying away from the crickets; meeting yours.

You want to tell her about what happened, but the words seem stuck in your throat.

Would she believe you?

Would she be disgusted with you?

“Hel, I-”, you begin, choking as tears well up in your eyes. You try to clear your throat so that the lump of sadness suffocating you goes away,

“I-, I don’t think Aemond likes me”, is all you are able to get out as unexpected tears spill out from the corners of your eyes.

You wish you could tell her more, but your body doesn’t obey you; mind feeling foggy and throat closing up.

You can't sort your thoughts, or feelings, out.

“Oh, don’t cry, love”, she says as she wipes away a fat tear sliding down your cheek,

“There's no reason to feel bad. Aemond likes you. He would never do anything to harm you. He cares for you so much”

Though her voice sounds genuine, her gaze seems to drift away as she talks about her brother.

“He’s cared for you ever since we were small, you know. Do you remember that summer when we were all together on Driftmark? Before Aemond lost his eye?”

You swallow thickly at the memory.

“You remember when you two asked me to wed you out on the beach because you wanted to stay together forever?”, she asks, voice gentle and a knowing smile playing on her lips.

The memory causes you to spill more tears. Everything was so much easier back then.

“Don’t you miss how close you two used to be?”, she asks, compassionate and caring.

Yes, you do.

“Yeah”, you let out, voice thick from sadness. “But everything changed after Aemond lost his eye. He-, he didn’t want to spend time with me anymore”

You sound so small; your own words make you feel like a child again, abandoned by your best friend.

“Well, we’re here now, together. So that we can all reconnect. We’ve missed you”

Helaena moves closer to you, throwing her arms around you and hugs you tightly.

You slump against her, burying your face in the crook of her neck. Despite all the weird interactions with Aemond during your visit, Helaena had been a constant; brightening your days and making you feel seen.

She was always so happy to see you.

She was always so genuine.

You pull away once your sobbing ceases, giving Helaena one last squeeze before mumbling a quiet “thank you”.

She smiles, wipes her thumbs over your wet cheeks and locks eyes with you,

“You’ll feel better once you’ve settled in properly”, she says with a smile.

You don’t really understand what she means but nod anyway.

Agreeing feels good.

Agreeing feels comforting.

As you make your way back to your cottage, you spot Jon by one of the flower beds, watering the abundant plants fighting for space in their wooden confinement.

He doesn’t look much different from a few days ago, but when he spots you approaching, his slouching shoulders go rigid.

“Hi”, you say, trying to keep your voice light as you draw near him.

“Hey”, he replies, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Your eyes instantly move to inspect his hand.

The gauze has been changed recently, clinically white and neatly wrapped around his palm,

“How’s your hand?”, you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“Fine”, is all he replies as he walks towards the next flower bed, away from you.

He tilts the watering can, letting the water rains down on the flourishing plants.

“What Aemond did to you-, I-, it’s completely unacceptable”, you say as you trail after him,

“You could press charges you know”

Not that you actually think Jon would, for some unexplainable reason he had seemingly agreed to getting his hand slashed. But you wanted him to understand that this kind of behaviour was inexcusable, even if he'd consented.

Jon’s eyes darken as he turns his head from watching the droplets fall on the flowers to observe you.

“Aemond knows what’s best. No point in me going against him”, he says in resignation, eyes shifting again, looking out at the endless fields surrounding the commune.

“Aemond acted like a fucking psycho yesterday, you don’t have to excuse his behaviour”, you try to assure Jon, shifting your body to move a little closer to where he’s standing.

His eyes go wide in panic, quickly looking around to make sure no one is nearby.

“Do not say things like that”, he warns, voice barely above a whisper.

“Aemond and Alys hear everything. They have eyes and ears everywhere, especially Alys. She sees much and more”

His eyes have grown impossibly large, resembling those of an animal pestered by a predator,

“They say the Father is all-seeing; knowledgeable on all topics. Almighty. There are people here who-”, he pauses as his eyes again dart around in a stressed frenzy, making sure no one is listening in on your conversation,

“- who believe Aemond is the human embodiment of the Father”

Jon’s confession catches you off guard and you let out a snort at his utterance. His panicked eyes narrow in anger at you.

“You haven’t been here long enough to have seen what I have”, he tells you with a sneer,

“You do not understand the power that he holds”.

Though you'd initially thought Jon was someone you could become friendly with, you now find yourself backing away from him and his evident madness.

Aemond might be smart, but he is no deity.

You’re slouching in the rocking chair in the corner of your room, trying to read the book Helaena had lent you.

This is the third time you feel like giving up; mind too fuzzy to fully take in anything you're reading.

Why is it so hard to concentrate?

To distract yourself?

You’d planned on giving your mum a call when you retreated to your cottage, but couldn’t even bear to pick up your phone.

She had a way of knowing what you were thinking, without you even telling her. She knows you so well.

Too well.

She would sense that something's off.

That there's something you're not telling her.

What if she figures out what you and Aemond had done?

You’re startled by a sudden knock on your door.

Quickly standing, you rush to the door, nerves on high alert.

Aemond’s ducks his tall frame as you pull the door open, face level with yours. You feel that familiar shiver run down your spine, making your body shudder slightly.

He looks as impeccable as always; hair half up so that the silver strands stay out of his face, button-down shirt and slacks perfectly form-fitted and ironed to eliminate any trace of a wrinkle; any indication of a flaw. His eyepatch is securely placed over his damaged eye, long scar poking through the sides.

“Can we talk?”, he asks, voice low and gentle.

You’re not sure what to say, and move to the side to allow him inside. For some reason denying him feels out of the question.

You go back to the wooden rocking chair, sitting down and pulling one leg up to wrap your arms around yourself, a meek attempt at shield yourself from whatever Aemond has in mind.

He sits down on the bed, back stiff and gaze darting around the room before settling on you.

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday”, he starts, face stoic.

“Thank me?”, you reply by reflex, not entirely sure of what he’s referring to.

He can’t be referring to what happened in the forest?

“Yes. I really appreciate you helping me out”, he continues matter-of-factly. You’re stunned, mouth half-open in disbelief.

“And I wanted to apologise for leaving you after. That won’t happen again”

His eye never leave yours. He sounds so sincere it is hard not to take his gratitude and apology to heart.

Still, the memory of what you’d done causes bile to rise in the back of your throat.

Forgiving him and moving on would be so simple.

“It’s okay, Aemond, we don’t have to talk about it anymore”, you mumble, eyes looking down to pick at the sleeve of the linen blouse you’re wearing.

You’d rather just forget.

Move on.

Never speak or think about it again.

It never happened.

“Alright”

He’s silent for a moment before he speaks up again,

“I also wanted to thank you for coming out here to visit us. It’s been so nice to reconnect over these past few days”

There he is again.

The boy who’d been your best friend all those years ago.

Fierce and attentive at once; contradicting in every way. His timid smile is still the same, just as inviting to mischief as it had been when you were little.

You still can’t quite find the words to engage in conversation with him. Half of you wants to run away from his unpredictability, yet the other half wants to stay and bask in it.

“I’ve missed you”, he continues. You know he is genuine when you look up to meet his gaze.

You’ve missed him too.

“I’ve missed you too”, you confess quietly. You can’t seem to look away from his eye. It's almost hypnotising.

“Wouldn’t you like to stay here for a while longer? I can talk to Gwayne”, he offers.

“Oh that’s not necessary, I have to go back. I already know I have a full mailbox waiting for me”, you quip, trying to sound witty. Aemond’s face remains impassive.

“I always wondered why you decided to work with my uncle. Such a waste of potential”, he muses as he regards you,

“I think you could achieve much more if you chose another path in life”

His expression is serious, still his voice is gentle.

Like he’s telling you, not advising you.

Before you have a chance to reply he speaks up again,

“I’d like you to join a sermon we’re having tonight. You could benefit from some guidance”

You can’t come up with a reason to decline his invitation fast enough, and Aemond lets out a pleased hum at your silence.

“Six o’clock in the Sept”

He stands and reaches his hand towards you, squeezing it in goodbye.

He leaves your cottage and you watch him retreat to the Sept through your window.

The tall building truly holds an imposing aura; the seven pointed star sinister in its daunting simplicity.

Unsettling.

You enter the Sept right before six.

To your surprise, all residents of the commune are already seated, sitting in rows leading up to the unadorned wooden altar; carvings of the Seven decorating all sides of it.

The only one standing is Aemond, right next to the altar.

Next to him is a chair, and as you walk towards where the residents are seated, Aemond clears his throat and gestures for you to take a seat on the chair next to him, facing everyone.

“Please, join me”, he says and beckons you over.

Everyone present is watching you expectantly, leaving you no choice but to join Aemond and take a seat next to where he’s standing.

“Our guest of honour, everyone”

His voice is soft, yet you notice a hint of amusement hiding behind his stoic façade.

He says a short prayer, welcoming everyone to the sermon and expressing gratitude to all faces of the Seven.

“Today, I’d like to talk about forgiveness”, Aemond explains, and you watch as all residents observe him diligently, eyes rarely blinking.

He seems to hold such power within these seven walls.

Such authority.

“Granting someone forgiveness takes strength, given to us by the Warrior”

The residents are silent, but you see a few of them nodding along to Aemond’s words.

Helaena and Alys sit closest to where you and Aemond are, watching you attentively.

“All actions have consequences, and we must be reminded of this to prevent us from repeatedly committing wrongdoings. When I was 10, I was taught the consequences of my actions as my nephew brought a knife to my face, taking my eye”

His tone grows colder as he speaks, and you feel that all too familiar shiver run down your spine.

Only this time, you cannot shudder to make it go away. It stays at the base of your back; taking hold of you and keeping you in a state of acute uneasiness.

“Though I was consumed by hatred after being robbed of my sight, the Seven provided me with guidance, showing me the light in the darkest of times”

Aemond moves to stand in front of you, one hand coming up to pull the eyepatch that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face away.

You hadn’t seen him without it since the accident, and you have to stifle a gasp as you take in the entirety of his face.

The scar that your brother had branded him with is still red, still angry as you follow it with your eyes; starting at his forehead and ending on his cheek.

The socket where his eye had previously been is surrounded by scarred tissue; healed but still furious.

In the empty socket lays a sparkling sapphire, almost appearing alive as the light from the candles in the Sept reflects upon its surface.

The contrast of the beautiful gem nuzzled in the red, vexed scar reminds you of Aemond himself; full of rage and beauty.

“I’ll tell you the story behind this scar”

He moves to stand behind you as his hands rest on the backrest of the wooden chair,

“I was enjoying a day at the beach with my dearest childhood companion-”

His voice is borderline mocking. In your peripheral vision you see his knuckles go white from to the tight grip he has on the backrest of your chair,

“- though she adored me as well, she never defended me against the nasty remarks her brothers would throw my way”

His icy voice heats with anger,

“Having had enough of their torment, I defended myself, much like the Warrior would have. Like the Father, I demanded justice for their unbecoming behaviour. Yet, when I gained the strength to defend myself against my tormentors, the one who was supposed to be by my side abandoned me”

Although you can’t see him standing behind you, you can feel the infuriated energy radiating from his body. You desperately seek the resident's eyes for some sympathy, yet find none.

“That-, That’s not what happened Aemond”, you try to protest, but your voice comes out too weak to truly make an impact.

“Is it not? Then enlighten me. Did you not leave me to defend myself?”

One of the hands he has placed on the back of the chair moves to rest on your shoulder, squeezing it harshly.

“I didn’t-, you were fighting and I didn’t-, I was going to get an adult!”

You sound as desperate as you feel. The gazes of the residents feels burning as they regard you with disapproval.

You still remember how an innocent fight between children had escalated as soon as Aemond picked up a rock, refusing to take in your pleas to just let it go. Not knowing what to do, you’d sprinted towards the family’s summer house to get your mum or Alicent; anyone who could help you de-escalate the madness on the beach.

When you came back, Aemond was on the ground, screaming as he clutched his blood-covered face.

The memory makes you grow cold all over. That had been the worst day of your childhood; amplified by the fact that Aemond had refused to speak to you afterwards. Though your families had managed to mend the broken bond somewhat, Aemond had never looked at you the same.

“The Seven tell us that sins can be forgiven, and though I have forgiven you for this”, he gestures towards his eye, “you were never made to apologise for your transgression. I’d like to offer you forgiveness”

“Apologise to me”

He pushes at your shoulder, gesturing for you to stand in front of the onlooking residents. You heed his instruction, turning so that you're facing him.

"Kneel"

You get down on your knees, looking up at Aemond’s imposing stature. He is frightening, the clearly satisfied state of his face haunting you.

“I’m sorry”, you say meekly; low and defeated.

“Come on, you can do better than that”, he encourages.

His voice is loud and with a hint of poorly concealed amusement.

“I’m sorry”, you repeat, this time louder.

“You’re not going to address me when you’re on your knees, asking for my forgiveness?”, he asks, tilting his head.

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your face grow hot from the feelings rumbling in your chest; rage, sadness, betrayal.

Why is he so intent on humiliating you?

“I’m sorry, Aemond”, you bite out.

He approaches you, hand stretched out to touch your head, gently stroking your hair. He brings his hand down to cup your chin, tilting your head so that you look up at him; meeting his purple and blue gaze.

“I forgive you”, he says, and despite sincerity being evident in his voice, you cannot help but feel like this is all just a farce.

The onlooking residents stay silent, but you feel their eyes observe you like flames against your skin.

The only sound coming from the audience is from Helaena, who lets out a quiet “lovely” as her smiles at you and Aemond. You eye her in disbelief.

Does she not see how fucked up this is?

As soon as the sermon finishes you dart out the door, speedily walking the short distance to the cottage you’re staying at.

You cannot bear to stay in this madness for even a second longer.

You slam the door open, grab your belongings and stuff them down your bag with force.

The sun is setting and you know that there are no streetlights out here, only open fields and forest. You'll need to find your way back to the station alone, Helaena’s clearly as mad as the rest of them.

You peek out through the door. No one seems to be nearby and you know this is your chance to sneak away without being forced to face Aemond, Alys or Helaena.

The sun is hanging low on the horizon as you quickly move towards where you and Helaena had emerged a few days prior.

You walk briskly, the commune growing smaller as you move further away.

The forest that had mesmerised you with its beauty slowly turns terrifyingly imposing as darkness chases the comforts of daylight away.

Though you're sure you’ve been following the way you and Helena came, you soon find yourself at a crossroads in the middle of two paths, not knowing which will lead you back to the small village where the train station was.

As you briefly stop to contemplate your options, a dark figure appear on your side.

Jayne’s eyes are kind as she offers you a curt smile, reaching out to take your hand.

“Come with me”, is all she says before moving in quick steps, pulling you along the path to the right. You follow without protests; you wouldn’t know the way without guidance anyway.

You spot what looks like a street light ahead and you feel your body relax at the thought of being close to the train station, soon on the way back home.

Finally you’ll be able to leave this week behind.

As you come closer however, you start to recognise the small, wooden houses. In the middle stands a large, looming building with lights illuminating the seven pointed star in the middle.

You try to jerk your hand away from Jayne, but her hold on you is iron-like as she pulls you towards the Sept.

“Don’t worry”, she tries to reassure you.

“Soon you’ll realise that this is where you’re meant to be”

Prospering

Jayne forcefully drags you into Aemond's office, quickly exiting to lock the door from the outside. You’re still in shock, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself enough to assess the situation.

Everyone here’s deranged.

You’re outnumbered.

You could fight as hard as you like, and you’d still lose.

You start to nervously pace back and forth in front of Aemond’s large wooden desk, attempting to expel some of the nervous energy within you.

They wouldn't hurt you, right?

That’d be mad.

You think back to the true crime documentaries you used to be obsessed with. The best thing to do was play along with the madness and strike when they least expect it.

Make them believe you’re not a threat so they’ll trust you.

You just needed to keep your head cool and play along a little while longer. Then they’d take you back to the train station and you could go back home.

A sharp rap on the door pulls you away from your thoughts.

You hear someone fiddle with the lock before the door opens slightly and Alys slips through the small crack. You can hear voices outside, but they quickly fade away as Alys shuts the door promptly.

She gives you a nod, expression as calculated as it always is. She’s carrying two wine glasses in one hand and holding an opened bottle of wine in the other.

“Oh relax”, she tells you with a smile,

“Have some wine, it’ll calm your nerves”

She places the glasses on the desk, pouring you both a serving each before putting down the bottle and handing you one of the glasses.

“Here’s to a prosperous future”, she says, raising her glass and giving you a nod. You match her gesture, bringing the glass to your lips as you watch her take a sip.

The wine tastes like the ones your mum usually orders when you go out to eat; rich and with some lingering spiciness.

“Dornish red. Aemond’s favourite”, Alys states. Her delicate fingers are wrapped around the stem as she holds the glass elegantly.

She seems to do everything with grace, never faltering. Never appearing clumsy or out of place.

It's hard not to admire her.

“You know he’s only trying to help you, right?”, she asks.

"I-", you’re quiet for a while as you rack your brain for something to say that won’t upset her, “I appreciate that, but I need to get back home and-“

“Just let him help you, okay?”

Though her voice rises slightly at the end, it doesn’t feel like a question.

You know that there is no room for argument. Alys has maintained her calm appearance, yet her eyes are so expressive; the only part of her face that she can’t force into submission.

Their intensity make the hairs at the back of your neck rise, demanding you obey her.

She downs her glass before placing it on the desk, leaving you alone yet again in Aemond’s office.

It’s gotten dark now, the sole window in the room not providing much light anymore.

You continue to sip the wine in your glass as you lean against the desk next to you. The alcohol might provide you with some comfort; sooth your anxiety.

A soft knock on the door announces the presence of your next visitor.

Helaenas’ silver hair brightens up the dark room as she enters. She’s holding a flower crown in one hand, beautifully crafted with wildflowers you recognise from the bouquets always adorning the table outside.

“Hi”, she greets with a smile.

You nod back at her, still not quite sure how to appraise her.

She’s been one of the people you’ve felt closest to your entire life, yet she seems to approve of the mad things happening here.

How can she not see how humiliating Aemond’s actions during the sermon had been?

“I made this for you”, she says and hands you the flower crown.

As your hands touch, her fingers linger on yours, tips dragging over your knuckles with a feather-light touch.

“Thanks”, you reply curtly, not sure of what to say.

You want to ask Helaena for the way back to the train station.

Ask her to come back with you to Oldtown.

But she’s so different here. She overlooks so much, agrees to so much.

Always with a smile.

“Put it on”, she urges, hands moving to the flower crown to help you place it on your head. You want to protest but you’re so tired of it.

Tired of asking questions.

Tired of going against everyone.

“There”, she says with a smile as she regards you, face even brighter than before,

“You look so beautiful”

“Hel..”, you try, tongue coming out to lick your lips as you choose your words carefully.

She’s still your dear aunt; still Helaena.

“I want to go back home, Hel. We could go together, if you like?”

Despite trying to keep your voice even, you sound a little frantic.

“No you can’t leave now”, is all she replies, dismissing you. She doesn’t appear to be upset by your words though, lips still forming a warm smile.

“Hel, listen. What you’re doing here is not okay. Aemond maimed a man! And he humiliated me in front of everyone. Something’s wrong with him”

Your eyes dart all over her face and stature to assess her reaction to your words. You’re astonished by her indifference, almost like she’s not taking your words in.

She places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly as her eyes lock with yours,

“All actions have consequences. We’re all made aware of that here. Aemond only wants what’s best for us. He’s worked so hard to provide us with this. You should be thankful”

She leaves you alone in the room once more, and as she exits, you hear her secure the lock on the door from the outside.

By the time you hear someone unlock the door next, you’ve finished the glass of wine Alys gave you.

The room is now illuminated by nothing but the light of the moon shining through the window, casting a silver glow over the office.

Matching the man entering.

Aemond’s tall silhouette appears, instantly making you straighten up, dread washing over you.

He has been so volatile during your stay here, making you feel unease by the mere sight of him.

You can still hear chatter and what sounds like furniture being shuffled around outside as the door is left ajar by Aemond, who moves towards you.

He stands so close to you that his feet are touching yours.

His face is stern, looking at you down his nose. Fighting the fright within you, you meet his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of backing down too easily.

Still, you know that you’ll need to play your cards right, go along with the madness here momentarily, so that they’ll eventually let you go home.

“Why did you leave?”, he asks, eyes never leaving yours.

His voice is that unique mixture of being gentle and stern, demanding you obey him and tell him the truth.

“I tried to leave because of what you did to me during the sermon. What you did to Jon!”

You’re unable to hide the fear-laced irritation you feel at his audacity.

How could he expect you to stay? Wasn’t it obvious why you left?

“I might have been selfish for needing that apology, but it was necessary. Now we can move forward together”

He moves one of the hands he’s had clasped behind his back towards you, gently placing his it in yours.

Your gaze flickers down to where he’s holding you. Your hand looks so small and delicate in his large one. His touch is warm.

You scoff at his attempt to reconcile,

“Who said I’ve forgiven you for what you did?”

“You know you owed me an apology after leaving me alone with your vicious brothers that night”, Aemond says and he shuffles even closer to you,

“Do you think that what happened during the sermon can match the pain I felt when your brother took my eye?”

“N- no, but Aemond-"

“No. You’ll never understand the pain I’ve been through. But I’ve chosen to forgive you, and now we can move forward together”

His voice is slightly strained as he lectures you. His purple eye is piercing, and though you’d wanted to match his strength, you can’t help it when your eyes look down in shame.

“However”, he speaks in a lower tone, thumb moving to stroke the back of your hand,

“I am disappointed in your attempt to leave me and Helaena here without even granting us a proper goodbye”

“You’ll prosper here with us, but you’ll have to follow our rules. Dishonesty is not allowed, and your actions show that you attempted to act deceitfully".

His hand drops yours as he grabs your arms on both sides, swiftly turning you around and pushing on you back with a firm hand so that you're bent over his desk.

You’re too startled to fight back, letting out a yelp as you feel him tower over you from behind. He leans down over your body, hand still firmly on your back, pushing down,

“You have probably heard stories of whipping those who refuse to see the light. But I am no monster, so I will spare you from the whip”, he murmurs next to your ear, hand on your back trailing downwards,

“My hand will serve”

Before you’re able to reply, or even fully take in what he’s telling you, you feel his large palm make swift contact with your backside, the gesture causing a loud smack to echo through the quiet room.

You let out a startled cry in pain as you turn your head to face Aemond, confused betrayal reflected in how your mouth fall open and eyebrows rise.

His hand smooths over the material of your skirt where he’s just slapped you, somewhat soothing the painful sting on your skin.

“For being deceitful, I’ll give you five smacks. That’ll teach you to behave”,

The stoic gentleness of his voice borders on sounding amused as he takes in your shocked face.

Can you still play along?

What will happen if you resist?

While you’re trying to calculate your next move, Aemond’s hand land another harsh hit on your ass.

You sqeel from the pain, but quickly try to stifle the sounds coming out of your mouth.

Your painfully aware of the fact that he left the door ajar.

The residents outside might hear what’s happening. You feel tears well up in your eyes from the humiliation; from the stinging pain on your backside.

Aemond shushes you as he once again smooths his hand over your abused flesh in a comforting manner,

“You’re doing so well, my love” he tells you, eyes meeting yours once again.

You don’t understand why his words stifle the anxiety you feel, but they do.

“Only three more”, he states as he lands another stinging hit on your ass, even harsher then before.

You can’t hinder the tears that escape down your cheeks anymore.

“Good girl”, Aemond coos as he soothes your pain with his palm. Though the fabric of your skirt separates your skin from his, you can feel the warmth radiating off him.

Hearing him praise you shouldn’t sooth your pain, or make you feel better in the slightest, but it does.

You notice the soft look of satisfaction in his eye and you feel proud.

His hand lands on you quickly and you bite your lip desperately to not cry out. More tears slide down your cheek as you give Aemond a pleading look.

“Just one more, and then you’ve served your punishment”, he reassures you as he caresses your stinging flesh.

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the last smack to land and when it does, you flinch before letting out a sigh of relief because you’d done it, you’d taken the punishment and now Aemond would be pleased with you.

The thought makes a warm sensation spread in your chest and when you open your tear-filled eyes, Aemond is already watching you with an expression that feels nothing less than loving.

While one hand stays on your backside to gently caress you, the other travels to you face, cupping your cheek. His thumb runs over your cheek, wiping away some of the wetness.

“You took your punishment so well. You make me proud”, he tells you, and his soft voice sounds so sincere. You lean into his touch on instinct, his palm providing comforting warmth to your cheek.

Being praised by him makes you feel happier than you’ve been in a long time.

It feels so good to be appreciated; to know you did something well. You can’t help but smile as your eyes lock with his. He smiles back at you.

“Now, I’ve got a surprise for you”, he tells you as he straightens up, grabbing your arm to link it with his. You know that there is more you need to talk about; more that’s unsaid. Yet, your mind feels fuzzy and you’re finding it hard to properly sort your thoughts out.

Aemond snakes his hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him and you lean into his warmth; it’s so comforting.

“Aemond, I-, I still need to know…”, your voice dies as you mentally search for a question.

What was it that made you leave?

Oh! Jon!

“Why did you cut Jons hand?”, you ask, hoping that the softness of your voice will prevent his impending irritation. You don’t think you could handle another punishment.

Aemond is quiet for some time, possibly pondering his response, before he speaks,

“Jon spoke out of turn, questioning my roles as the leader of this community. He now understands that everything I do is for the good of the commune and its residents”, he explains, arm still holding you by the side as his palm rests out on your stomach.

“Here in the commune, we know that scars tell a story; they remind us of our wrongdoings and guide us when we stray from the light of the Seven”

He stops in front of the door, turning slightly to look at you,

“You should be grateful I didn’t scar you, like I’ve done to others. Soon you’ll appreciate all that I've done for you”

He pushes the door to his office open, revealing the large hall where you’d been humiliated during Aemond’s sermon.

The residents of the commune are all facing you, watching you expectantly as you emerge from the office.

They’re all sitting on the exact same seats as before. The Sept is dark, illuminated only by the scarce moonlight shining through the seven-pointed star carved in the upper part of the buildings large walls, and by the candles lit across the room.

You see one of the residents standing by the altar where Aemond had stood during the sermon.

You recognise him as one of Aemond’s former professors in King’s Landing. The man is probably in his early to mid-sixties with grey specks clear in his brown locks. He offers you a smile as you approach with Aemond, his brown eyes warm and inviting,

“Welcome”

Aemond leads you to stand in front of the altar, arm still anchoring you to him.

“Is everything ready?”, your uncle inquires as his grip around you tightens.

“Yes. Let’s begin with the seven vows”, the elderly man says before reciting what sounds like a long prayer.

Having Aemond hold you makes you feel secure, and it takes you a while to really comprehend what is going on.

Why are the two of you standing here, instead of sitting with the other residents?

“Do you accept the seven vows, the seven blessings and the seven promises?”, he asks, warm eyes meeting yours.

“I do”, Aemond replies next to you, squeezing your waist in a silent command for you to do the same.

You turn to face him, brows furrowed in confusion.

What is it you’re agreeing to?

Aemond’s patience seems to run thin as you remain silent.

You notice his jaw twitch as he gives the resident in front of you a pointed look, prompting the man to respond in a quick nod before moving to join the onlookers.

Aemond turns to fully face you, yet he doesn’t move his arm, tugging you towards him so that your soft chest knocks against his.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my wife”, he says before he surges forward, crashing his lips against yours.

You stiffen in his grip, trying to back away from him but unable to move in his hold. You hear applause echo through the hall as Aemond retreats, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

You open your mouth to protest, but your voice is drowned out by the loud chanting of the onlooking residents,

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever”

They abruptly stand, chanting over and over as they move towards the large wooden doors of the entrance, going outside to leave you and Aemond alone in the Sept.

Even after the last person has left and closed the door, you can hear them chanting outside.

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever”

The slight tranquillity you’d previously found comfort in vanishes as you search Aemond’s face for an explanation; an answer as to what is going on.

His hand cups your cheek again, the loving look he’d offered you before you left his office still present,

“Your decision to leave tells me that you are lost. I’ll help you. I’ll help you see the light again”

You’re lost for words.

“I’m doing this for you. I know how much you crave to be loved. I’ll give you that. Just trust me”

His reassurance does little to calm your nerves as you feel dread pool in your gut.

“But Aemond, not like this, we can’t-”, you protest weakly. Despite the uneasiness taking root inside of you, your body betrays you as it still leans into the touch of his hand.

“I know how to fix you, just like I fixed Helaena”, he comforts you. His seeing eye seeks yours, silently inciting you to trust him,

“You were made for me, and I for you. I know you’ve been feeling lost for a long time. My uncle told me how depressed you were in Oldtown”

“The mother blessed women with wombs to heal their inner sadness. Becoming a mother will heal you”,

He pushes your body against the altar,

“We need to consummate our marriage, or it won’t be recognised by the Seven”

You feel dread settle in your bones as you take in his word.

“No, Aemond, please-, this is wrong! What would our mothers say?”, you desperately try to reason, panic making your breath quicker as he places his hands on either side of you on the altar; caging you in.

He lowers his head so closely that your noses touch, eye never straying away from yours,

“They’ll understand”

His lips find yours again. You know kissing him is wrong, yet your body melts into his touch as his soft lips press against yours.

Maybe they would understand?

Aemond’s tongue gently swipes over your lower lip, pushing to gain access. As he deepens the kiss, his hands travel down to your skirt, gathering the fabric in his grip before breaking away from you.

You’re both breathing heavily as you stay frozen, taking in each other's expressions. A thin line of translucent spit connects your lips and you notice Aemond’s eye flicker down to watch your kiss-swollen lips.

The conflicting emotions within you rage like the worst of storms, making your head spin. Aemond’s gentle prodding had successfully made you into putty in his hands, yet the uneasy feeling from before remains, steering you away from his control.

“No, no. We can’t, this has already gone too fa-”, you’re abruptly startled to silence as Aemond swiftly sinks down to his knees, pushing up the fabric of your skirt to expose your underwear.

You try to push your legs together but one of his hands quickly dart out to pull down the small piece of fabric separating your skin from his.

You place your hands on both sides of his head in an attempt to push him away, but his face moves towards your exposed centre with determination.

He grabs ahold of the outside of your thighs as he pushes your body towards his face, tongue immediately finding your bundle of nerves, swiping over it in rhythmic circles. Your grip on his head tightens as you push with all your strength for him to back away, but to no avail. He buries his face further into the apex of your thighs as he grips your tights painfully, fingertips leaving colourful marks of ownership.

You whine from the pain; from the pleasure building inside of you as Aemond forces your body into submission. He manhandles your right leg so that it rests on his shoulder, giving him further access to assault you with his mouth.

He sucks on your clit as he brings two fingers up to slide through your folds; the ease of which they glide lets him know the effect his touch has on you.

His fingers find your entrance, pushing inside to instantaneously curl forward, finding that spot inside you that always brings you waves of pleasure. You let out a startled moan as your hands go limp around Aemond’s head, simply resting there.

You close your eyes, violent pleasure making it hard for you to think clearly, just like how you’d felt in his office a few days ago.

Why does he have this effect on you? Why is he so good at this?

Why does it feel so good?

Another pathetic moan leaves your lips as he picks up the speed of his actions, purple and sapphire gaze watching you intently. You close your eyes once again, internally surrendering to his touch.

You want it. You need it.

You feel something ignite within you just as your peak crashes over you. The intensity makes your walls clench around Aemond’s fingers as you gasp in pleasure. Your legs shake from the force and you grab onto his hair for some stability.

He withdraws from you, slightly out of breath, and stands, large frame looming over you.

“No one else makes you feel as good as I do, no one else sees you like I do. We have found each other through the guidance of the seven, can’t you see that? We were meant to be”, he says and grabs your waist to hoists your slack body up on the altar.

He pushes your thighs apart, reaching down to undo his slacks and pulls them down just enough to free his length. It is just as intimidating as it had been yesterday; thick, veiny and ragingly red.

“You want this, I know you do”, he says before pushing inside you, causing you to whine at the stretch. You feel so full, and the impact of your orgasm makes your head feel fuzzy; like you’re floating away. Your walls contract around Aemond and he moans as he lowers his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

“You feel just as perfect as I knew you would”, he whispers in your ear. He draws his hips back, pushing them into yours with such force that your body jolts on the altar. You try to hold on to him with every harsh thrust, but your limbs feel too weak. It all feels so overwhelming, so good, that you can’t bite your lip hard enough to hinder the moans that bounce around the seven walls of the Sept.

One of Aemonds hands come down to draw circles on your clit once more. He pulls back slightly to watch you; to take in your pleasure-drunk expression.

“Let them hear you”, He presses down on your bundle of nerves harsher, still dragging his cock in strong, calculated movements along your walls.

The precision of his touch pushes you towards another peak, but when you feel it nearing, he withdraws completely, eyes flickering down to briefly admire the coat of your slickness adorning his manhood.

He grabs your hips, pulls you down from the altar and turns you around so that you’re facing away from him. Like in his office mere moments ago, he pushes on your back so that your chest makes contact with the wooden surface. He lets his cock glide through your folds before he leans down to mumble in your ear,

“Tell me what you want”

Robbing you of release has left you confused. Resigned and desperate, you let the throbbing between your thighs guide you,

“You, Aemond. I want you”

He pushes inside you again with a pleased grunt, picking up the pace quickly as he fucks you against the holy pedestal. Your hands grab both sides as it rocks in tandem with Aemond’s thrusts. His hand finds you clit again and this time you peak within seconds, pleasure washing over you as your legs turn into jelly.

You feel your legs give in, causing you to slide down on the floor. Aemond doesn’t let you go as he keeps fucking you, following you down to the floor. Your upper body jolts from the force of his movements, slowly slipping down to make contact with the cold stone floor.

He leans over you, pounding into you with force. One of his hands comes to rest above you on the altar, allowing him to fuck you harder, and you whine on the floor beneath him,

“Fucking take it”, he grunts as he goes harder, the contact of his hip bone against your abused backside sending stings of pain through your body.

His fingers find your clit again and you moan in pain-filled pleasure at the overstimulation, one hand reaching for his to push it away.

Aemond tuts behind you, “One more. Be good and give me one more”

You try to turn your head so that you can face him, but you’re unable to move, trapped under his body as he takes his pleasure from you. All you can do is take it; give in.

You cry out as you cum for the third time. Your walls clench down on Aemond’s length vigorously as they coax his release from him. You hear him sigh in pleasure as he fills you.

After a few moments, he pulls away from you, fingers moving to stuff whatever spend has trickled down your thigh back inside. You hiss at the pain. He whispers a gentle apology in your ear, helping you pull your underwear back up.

He stands and reaches down under the altar, picking up the flower crown that had fallen from your head sometime during the consummation. His fingers grasp it gently, placing it back on your head.

He looks so beautiful standing in front of you, the soft light from the candles and the silvery glimmer from the moonlight illuminating his features. He gives you another quick kiss before leading you out of the Sept to greet the residents still gathered outside.

As the two of you emerge from the building, beaming smiles, loud congratulations and well wishes for a prosperous future greet you and your husband.

Aemond never lets go of you, keeping you close to him as he chats with the residents; explaining his vision for the commune moving forward and the new role you’ll play as a permanent resident.

Somewhere inside, you know that you should feel ashamed over what just occurred; over the fact that the residents probably heard the entire ordeal as they patiently waited for you outside.

But all you can feel is bliss; a pleasant calm spreading from your chest. Heating up your insides.

Your life before now had been a long struggle, where you were forced to suffer. Forced to part from your closest childhood friend, forced to pursue a career to feel adequate, forced to live a mundane life in isolation.

Aemond pulls you away from the crowd, leaning down to whisper in your ear,

“Look up”

You see bright, green streaks of light decorate the dark night sky, accompanied by thousands of stars. It is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

Aemond tugs you even closer to his side, resting his chin on your head as you silently admire the northern lights together. All you can feel is his warmth, the safety of being in someone’s embrace. Of being in Aemond’s embrace.

It’s warm.

Comforting.

Freeing.

Thank you for reading! 🩵

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanart #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader

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dr-spectre · 9 months ago

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The autism representation in Splatoon needs to be studied and celebrated because oh my god it's actually really damn good and some of the best in media, especially compared to how its usually portrayed in popular media....

As someone who is on the spectrum and has been diagnosed, it's really comforting to know that one of my favorite game series has such positive depictions of autism and isn't just stereotypical depictions we commonly see in media.

Autism in most media is either portrayed as white nerdy dudes who are cold robots that have super intelligence, can understand alien languages and see the world like they are a fucking Lego master builder or some shit and see blueprints in the sky like in The Good Doctor or The Big Bang Theory with Sheldon. Or it's portrayed as people who are incredibly disabled, cannot communicate and have constant tantrums as seen with the dogshit movie Music (2021). Literally the depiction of autism in that movie is actually fucking dangerous as it shows a person pushing an autistic person who is having a meltdown onto the ground and RESTRICTING THEM! WHICH IS VERY VERY VERY BAD! DO NOT DO THIS!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!! AUTISTIC PEOPLE HAVE DIED BECAUSE OF THIS!!!!!!!!

Now I'm not saying that these types of autistic people don't exist, remember, it's a spectrum so there's a ton of variety in people who have autism, some people have really high intelligence, some have low social skills and need help, some can talk for hours and hours to anyone, some need serious help to function day to day living and thats perfectly fine. however the type i listed of the super cold robotic genuis is just the really popular stereotype which impacts the perception of autistic people just trying to live and enjoy life like everyone else. Some autistic people are just in the middle and aren't on any of the extremes. There are tons of people who fall into the "low needs" and "high needs" sides of autism of course, however there isn't exactly a ton of representation for people in the middle and sometimes those popular representations of autism can damage the entire perception of the spectrum. And there still isn't a lot of fair representation of "high needs" autistic people in media and that needs to change as well.

Thankfully Splatoon doesn't go for any damaging stereotypes but instead goes for something a little more positive. I think the best examples of this are Marina, Marie and Harmony. While they haven't been canonically confirmed as being on the autism spectrum, they are heavily hinted that they are and show some evidence that supports it.

Harmony for instance is just.... a regular autistic girl, she isn't some incredibly smart girl, no, she's just a regular girl who speaks in a blunt and neutral way but that's about it. As someone who is autistic i can relate somewhat to how she speaks, in real life i tend to just say a few words when talking to someone and i don't really sound energetic or loud about it. i just go "Hey. Hi. Alright. Okay. Oh ok. Uh. I'm good." Some autistic people normally do not speak like they are the nerd emoji and sound hyper smart like Sheldon from Big Bang Theory, and they are not able to speak entirely. That's not what ALL autistic people sound like. There's a decent chunk of them that just speak regularly or speak a little quietly and thats okay. Harmony captures the speech of what a fair portion of autistic people talk like, but not every single autistic person of course. There is a large chunk of autistic people who need support when it comes to communication, and that's perfectly okay. They are just valid as human beings as the ones who can speak.

She also has an interest in music as she is the singer of Chirpy Chips and is seen stimming and fidgeting with an Ultra Hand. Autistic people usually fidget and stim to calm themselves down and keep their emotions in check, maybe Harmony plays with the Ultra Hand because it helps her stay calm when running Hotlantis.

Now it's time to talk about the most popular example of autistic representation in Splatoon. Marina.

She is quite shy when you zoom in on her in Splatoon 2 when you play as an Inkling, but is known to ramble about machinery and excavators to Pearl and Acht for hours at a time. Technology and machinery seem to be a special interest for her as shown with her creating the Shifty Stations for Splatfests, having hacking abilities and building the Memverse. She gets so much energy and excitement from working on the Memverse as shown by her dialogue in the Dev Diaries. However she is not a flawless super genius like in most depictions of autistic characters, she is known to have uncontrollable emotional outbursts, when Pearl even suggests the idea of Off the Hook breaking up she becomes extremely devastated and thinks of the worst case scenario in her dialogue from the Chaos vs Order Splatfest. She sometimes can't control her anger and snaps at Pearl after losing multiple times in a row in Splatfests.

She also has issues with proper work life balance as she overworks herself with working on the Memverse alongside going on a world tour with Pearl, she vents abouts this in her 10th Dev Diary in Side Order. And speaking of order, she chose team order because she wanted to maintain the balance in her life that she has found. A lot of autistic people have strict routines and any changes to that routine will cause them to get really distressed. If someone comes into my space and says "hey we're going out in 10 minutes." I'm gonna get pissed off and be in a terrible mood as my routine has been disrupted and i wanna do something else. Routines give autistic people a lot of comfort and predictability.

Marina's deepest flaw she kept hidden was the desire of a perfect world of order where nothing can change because she's so scared of her new life being destroyed, but she learns to overcome this fear of change with the help of Pearl by the end of Side Order which may inspire autistic people to learn to be more okay with change, even if its very hard.

Marina is also seen wearing her headphones quite often and rarely takes them off which may indicate she might have sensory issues. Some autistic people may suffer with sensory issues and need to wear headphones or certain pieces of clothing to stay calm and keep their emotions from becoming too much. I tend to wear headphones often because i hate my ears being exposed and I'm very sensitive to certain noises.

She also may have another special interest which may be the Squid Sisters as she litters her laptop and keytar with Squid Sister stickers. Marina also talks in a very excited tone when you get Marie's and Callie's palettes in Side Order. She also acts very giddy and excited during live performances with them and starts stimming which is shown by her moving around in place and clamping her hands together.

Another character who you might not think is autistic right away but shows signs of it is Marie. And to be honest i find her to be very relatable.

Marie is known to be more quiet than her cousin and she acted like this since she was a child. Marie also seems to struggle with social situations and struggles to talk with Agent 4 and Neo Agent 3 and wishes they can just leave her alone when you keep talking to her. However she seems to be a lot more comfortable talking with people she trusts and loves like her cousin Callie. She also makes quite snarky and sometimes rude comments but that doesn't mean she's a rude person, she just likes being cheeky and truly cares about the people around her. She even self loathes and worries about her cousin to an unhealthy degree.

A lot of people tend to say that autistic people have low empathy when in reality some autistic people are far from the case. Some autistic people might be TOO empathetic but they cannot show it because it's just so much for them that they can't properly express it. Marie may appear as rude and non caring but she's genuinely a very caring and emotional person but she doesn't know how to show it due to not having developed communication skills compared to neurotypical people. A fair amount of autistic people are not shy people that don't care about you, they just have a different way of speech and communication. 2 autistic people can talk vastly different from each other. It is a spectrum after all. There are some who may have low empathy, but they are not psychopaths who don't care about human life. It's really, really weird to think that and kind of damaging to see autistic people in that kind of light.

Marie is also known to be a picky eater and despises vegetables, refuses to eat the ends of bread loafs, hates tomatoes and pineapple on pizza. (she's literally me holy shit...) some autistic people can have sensory issues when it comes to certain textures and smells and vegetables usually have a weird texture compared to meats and other food groups. They can be seen as "picky eaters" that don't wanna try anything but, some autistic people genuinely cannot eat certain foods and may get sick in the stomach if they see that food and would rather eat anything else. You cannot get me to eat carrots, like I'm sorry but that's not happening buddy. I don't care if they are baked or boiled, i refuse to put that shit in my mouth.

She was also on team order like Marina as she likes to keep things nice and tidy like with most autistic people. Not all but most.

A little tidbit i wanna add as well is that since Splatoon 2, Marie has been seen holding an parasol and for seemingly no reason. Some may say she holds it to seem more professional, however i think she has it around because she likes to hold it in her hands and use it to fidget with, much like Harmony with the Ultra Hand. You can see her spin it around when you stay around her for a little bit in Splatoon 3's story mode. Although I might be looking too deeply into this but i think it might be a cute little detail.

I find it really fantastic that Splatoon not only has good representations of autism, but it's also pretty diverse and shows different elements of the spectrum. Not every single aspect of the spectrum as there isn't an example of a high needs autistic character in Splatoon that I can think of unfortunately, but if you can think of a character who may be in the high needs category of the spectrum then let me know, however we got a pale skinny sea anemone who runs a general store and uses an Ultra Hand to fidget with, a tall black woman who's extremely passionate about machinery and technology, and a Japanese squid woman who would rather eat a Splattershot than a tomato. (Callie and Marie are based off of Japanese culture, look at their clothing and styles of music. If they were humans they would not be white women, sorry to break it to you bud.)

Before this ends i wanna say, if you disagree with me then that's fine. I get it. They aren't canonically confirmed to be on the autism spectrum and a lot of this is just speculation and observation. However don't be a fucking dick about it okay? Don't say that i don't know anything about autism and that I'm crazy and dumb. Don't do that shit. Seriously. I am allowed to look deeper into these characters and find relatability and comfort in them. Don't try to make me feel like a freak for this.

Anyways if i did get something wrong about autism let me know in a fair and polite way. I am human and I'm gonna make mistakes, but don't be a dickhead about it, k? Good. Have a goodnight or good day wherever you live.

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #harmony #splatoon marina #marina ida #marie cuttlefish #marie splatoon #autism #neurodiversity #chirpy chips #pearl houzuki #pearl splatoon #callie cuttlefish #callie splatoon #rambles #text post #long post

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calisources · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different works of fiction and depict sensual, sexual tension between two people in different scenarios. There are some that are suggestive while others are more detail so this meme is nsft and usft, please tag accordingly. Mentions of jealousy, possessiveness, sex, fantasies are all here. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit.

I knew the first moment I saw him that it was going to be raw, it was going to be ugly, and I was going to enjoy every damn minute of it.

You're still looking.

You make it hard to look away.

I'm over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you asked me to, that’s not fair.

If you'd just man up and admit there's something between us, I would strip down to my skin so you could see every single inch of me.

How long are you going to make me wait?

How awfully presumptuous of you to think I'd let you.

You missed my arrogance almost as much as I missed your impudence, little one.

You said not to fall for you. Did you change your mind?

We both needed to blow off some steam, and we did, right?

They say the colour of a lady’s lips is an exact match to another region on the body?

You're too soft.

Can we go back to making out now?

You sound jealous.

Then tell me this is what you truly want. Swear you want this more than anything else and I'll never mention it again.

If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice.

Tell me how it's done. Do you think she'd like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply in to her eyes?

And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her?

You're wet, aren't you?

You drove me mad.

She asked me not to be gentle with her, either,I would have been gentle with you, though.

I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.

I'm all yours to look at, you know.

You need to let me go, darling, before we start something I intend to finish.

Feel free to touch, darling. It's all yours.

. . .I hate you.

Say it again.

Grind it. Nice and fine.

I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he'd give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.

Why shouldn't I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.

Am I supposed to deny, that I find you attractive?

Is that a challenge, Feyre?

Do you think it's fair that you have seen every inch of me, and I have seen none of you?

Move with me now.

Touch me anywhere you please.

I want you to make love to me.

Do you know what that truly means?

You do know? You know that I will be inside you and that I will move inside you, until we are both mad from pleasure?

I want you inside me.

You have three minutes to get ready now.

I did dream about you. I didn’t want to, but I did.

What was I doing in your dreams?

Someone is watching us through the window.

All the more reason to put on a good show.

You're not in a position to make demands.

The best things are found in the most secret places.

And you are a beautiful, sexy temptress who is about to be fucked by a man who wants her so desperately he's willing to do anything to have her.

When I'm with a woman, it's not me doing the begging.

You're rubbing yourself all over me. What did you think was going to happen?

I thought you were all about self-control.

I remember how powerful those thighs are.

You are more beautiful than I imagined.

And your skin... Christ, it shimmers like gold.

I'm naked underneath.

Tell me----did it get you off knowing I was watching?

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Please, don’t stop.

Oh, so I shouldn’t? That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it?

I am the cruelest man you will ever meet, but, I will make you feel so good, you will not care.

I’ve never been with a man before.

You do bad things to me, Carrie. Very bad things.

And you, Miss, are no lady.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #usft tw #usft meme #smut meme #suggestive tw

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rumoonstruckyet · 24 days ago

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where bluebells meet.

pairing : rivaltofriend!jungwon x fem!reader

featuring; sunoo, riki, rei, and liz as their friends + mention of winter (pls don’t take it seriously 🙏🏻)

genre : high school au, academic rivals to friends to lovers, FLUFF, very minor angst, slow burn?? probably a ‘he fell first and harder’ in there as well.

synopsis : for years, you’ve been on a constant stream of debates with student council president yang jungwon. and although you didn’t exactly hate him, you weren’t fond of him either—especially of your teachers’ decision to team you up for two projects—in your graduating year, of all times. so as you started working, why were your arguments now reduced to an air of awkwardness and...a blossoming friendship?

or in which...you and jungwon turned from good rivals into oblivious friends.

word count : 31.2k (um...😭???)

✩♬ ₊ more under the cut ˚☾⋆⁺✧

notes (?) : very ordinary love story. reader blushes a lot, usually ties her hair into a ponytail, is implied to be the same age as or younger than jungwon, and has one sided dislike for him. story follows asian education system. probably failed attempt at humor and inaccurate depiction of pet adoption. song recs in some parts.

warnings : a kiss (not on the lips), i think some parental and self-esteem issues, a few curses, mention of skipping meals, casual skinship between reader and jungwon (please let me know if i missed anything else!)

disclaimer : this is a work of fiction. the characters are distinct personas from all the idols featured in the story. any resemblance to real-life names, people, places, events, and other fics is purely coincidental.

a/n : i wanted to post this on jungwon’s birthday but it was still unedited, so here we are. yang leader is 21 now! 🥺 have you listened to his song cover? it’s so beautiful. may the world always be kind to him. 10 days late but—happy birthday, yang jungwon. ⋆⭒˚⋆ if you’re looking for an ar2l with a lot of tension, this is not it. this is my first (and maybe last) time writing a oneshot and i do admit it’s a self indulgent fic because i just wanted to see if i can do it, and jungwon is my bias. i’m still learning how to write and i’m expanding my vocab since english is not my first language so, i hope i did well. just reading this already means a lot to me, but likes, reblogs, and comments will be much appreciated—please give me feedback or at least tell me how you felt while reading! lastly, thank you for giving my story a chance.

p.s. this took me a long time to edit and review + tumblr is so uncooperative 😭 so please excuse the errors, if there’s any. (i have been editing/proofreading this whenever i have the chance, so that explains minor differences from the copy of people who already interacted with this versus this main post)

“Love shouldn’t make you throw away your life. Romeo and Juliet were impulsive teenagers who made terrible decisions.”

“Well, it might not have been love but what they had was pure. They sacrificed a lot for each other, and that’s beautiful, even if it was tragic—”

“—which led to a disaster. It’s a reminder how love can be dangerous and lead to destruction. I’d like to believe it’s a cautionary tale rather than a romantic one.”

Drawing in a breath, you force yourself for the nth time to calm down as you became deeply invested in an exchange about the timeless story.

“But the tragedy is what makes the love even more powerful. That’s how it works in fiction. Furthermore, it shows how precious yet fragile love is, and why we should fight for it.”

“Or maybe Shakespeare was just trying to entertain us with a melodramatic tale of young love gone wrong?”

His comment earns a few laughs from the class and the almost imperceptible smirk on his face makes you want to just scream your lungs out right then and there.

“Alright, fine. Two things can be true at the same time. It may have been a melodramatic tale but it also offers insights into the human nature, explores love, family, and the consequences of hatred—”

The loud ringing of the bell suddenly cuts through the thick atmosphere that built up in the room, and you quickly halt your words. A mixture of relieved sighs, teasing remarks, and amused laughter was heard throughout the place, everyone shuffling out of their seats to head to the cafeteria for lunch.

Giving one last challenging look to the boy a few seats away from you, as if to say “We’re not done yet”, you turn around and approach your friends who were all snickering among themselves already at the slight glare you sent him.

“Y/N, that was intense. Are you being paid to defend Shakespeare or something?”

You roll your eyes at Rei’s comment and link arms with her and Liz, pulling them together with you to walk out of the classroom.

“Whatever. He was intentionally defying me. I didn’t want to leave him satisfied.”

The bustling sounds of students filling the hallways as they set off from all directions served as the background noise while your mind flowed with thoughts about the heated exchange during class.

It was nothing new. Not a week would go by without any argument between you and your so-called rival, Yang Jungwon, as you both competed and argued at school for almost anything in existence. Today was no different when the story of the star crossed lovers were discussed in Literature, and you willingly offered your perspective since Miss Kim asked for the class’ opinion on their forsaken love.

But the student council president just really had to have a rebuttal at all of your words. He would never back down without a fight, would he? The seemingly childish antics between the two of you weren’t bound by the confines of the classroom either and extended into anywhere that you found yourselves meeting.

A silent challenge on who could hold eye contact the longest, vying for the teachers’ favor, and even passive-agressively fighting for a certain gazebo during your free periods—it was a natural occurrence in your daily life now.

Arriving at the cafeteria, a plethora of aromas from the counter fill your senses, momentarily distracting you from your inner monologue. You were certain that having some nice food would take away all the stress in your day so far and the thought alone gave you a sense of peace at the time being.

But that peace didn’t last for long as you made your way to the cramped line of students who were all eager to get their share of food and felt a sturdy chest accidentally bump into your back, making you almost stumble on your own feet.

You quickly whip your head around to look at who caused a near embarrassing moment, only to be met by the face of the person you’ve been thinking of since you left the room.

He flashes an Oscar-worthy apologetic face at you while his friends, Sunoo and Riki, slap him from behind, suppressing their laughter. “I’m sorry—”

“Can’t stupid Romeo see that someone’s in front of him?”

His eyebrows lift in astonishment at your reply and he slightly leans down to meet your level. “Oh, is sweet Juliet getting grumpy at me now?”

He leans away and straightens, flashing such a soft smile you’d almost believe he was being sincere, and maybe he was. “Okay, I’m actually sorry. The line’s full, I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

You were about to retort when Liz taps your shoulder and whispers. “Y/N, the line’s really too cramped. Leave him be. Let’s get moving, I’m hungry.”

With another threatening glare, you decide that the boy isn’t worth your time and you turn around to move forward in the line.

It was already your graduating year and you could only hope that the stress of your upcoming workload would be lessened by fewer unfortunate encounters with Yang Jungwon. You were sick and tired of it all already. It was due time to grow up.

Little did you know, the heavens must have heard your prayer and with their own interpretation, decided it was time to grant your wish. Twice.

The next day, you were back at the cafeteria during lunchtime, but now with a face looking more grim than ever as you grappled with the issue you were currently facing.

“Mr. Yoon’s decision is understandable,” Liz says, while Rei listens as she simultaneously eats and reviews notes for her Biology quiz. “He’s just new here so I couldn’t even blame him for being shocked when we said that you two have an on-going war for years already.”

You only response by angrily chewing on the pork cutlet in your mouth as she states your years-long of rivalry with Yang Jungwon, now leading to a more intense battle, or rather, an inner one.

“But Miss Kang...” Liz pauses and looks at you. “...Y/N, have you at least tried talking to her about it?”

At the mention of your teacher who made the awful decision of intentionally teaming you up with your rival, you groan loudly and clutch your head.

“She said she just wanted to see if we can set aside our differences and work together. Why did it have to happen this year when they have never put us in the same group for the past years, not even once?” You lifted your head and made vague hand motions. “And can you believe it, she even added that we might be secretly attracted to each other?! Ugh!”

Liz cackles loudly, shaking her head in amusement. “You know, I honestly agree with her. I mean, come on, is it really believable that you two wouldn’t have at least a tiny bit of attraction towards one another?”

You visibly cringe at her words, earning a laugh from them both. “Horrifying.”

“Well, what’s there to not be attracted about?” Rei chimes in, her eyes holding a mischievous glint as she looks at you. “You like Yang Jungwon, don’t you? You’ve got a secret crush on him and you just disguised it as “rivalry” this whole time. Or maybe even...the two of you are dating behind closed doors.”

Your face goes red in an instant, and Rei chuckles at the way you try to defend yourself. “W-what? No way. I do not like him like that—at all!”

“You seem awfully defensive for someone who says they don’t like him,” Liz teases and you give her a mock glare.

Rei leans forward as if she’s about to say something serious. “Okay, how about this Y/N. I don’t mean to offend you but perhaps,” she squints her eyes, “are you...jealous of Yang Jungwon?”

Your face contorts in perplexity at her question, but Liz could only laugh at how dumbfounded you looked.

“Jealous?” You incredulously reply. “W-why...why would I be jealous of him?”

Rei shrugs. “Exactly. Why would you, of all people, be jealous of him?” She looks down at her hands as she counts things off.

“You’re pretty, kind, smart, charming, talented, a good leader and student—just like him. I’d go as far as to say you’re like two peas in a pod.”

You give her a skeptical look. “Thanks, but...I believe we’re very different. And I am definitely not jealous of that guy. Nor do I hate him. I just really don’t like being around him.”

“Really?” They both ask and you nod. Rei hums thoughtfully as she ponders her next words, but Liz cuts in.

“Jealousy and attraction out of the way. Fine, then maybe...” She takes a suspenseful pause as she looks at you, her expression serious. “...you could give him a chance? I don’t know, maybe you could be friends?”

Rei fervently nods at her suggestion. “She’s right. You and I are friends, I’m friends with Riki, and Riki is Jungwon’s friend. So I think you and Jungwon would be good friends too, if you just try.”

“That’s a fallacy.”

Liz bursts out laughing at how you referenced your Political Science and Government class a few hours ago and Rei shrugs once more. “Well, maybe it is, but that doesn’t change the possibility that you could still be friends.”

“I mean it, Y/N.” You could feel the sincerity in her tone and Liz quiets down, the two of you now intently listening to her.

“I get that you two always debate like there’s no end to it, but you both respect each other’s intelligence and abilities, and that’s a good start. Try to engage in a conversation and maybe you’ll find out you have more in common with each other than you think.”

Liz stared with her mouth agape at Rei’s sudden counselling, but she only continues to give you advice as she goes back to scanning her notes.

“You’re different in some areas, and you could probably learn from each other, see things from a different perspective—even if you don’t always agree on everything. Yang Jungwon isn’t that bad. And I’m pretty sure you’ll both come around eventually.”

Liz gives a playful hit to Rei’s shoulder, earning a loud cry from her. “Hey, where’d you suddenly get all that stuff, huh? And what even makes you so sure they’d be friends eventually?”

Rei waves in dismissal as she continues to flip through her notes and nonchalantly replies. “I just have a feeling that they would get along at some point. Inevitably.”

Their banter fades into the background as you get lost in your own thoughts, finding yourself actually thinking about Rei’s words. Find something in common with Yang Jungwon? Okay, maybe it’s not entirely impossible.

But...friends? The thought feels strange. You’ve only always seen him as a rival, an opponent to beat, someone you wanted to prove that you were better than.

Could it really be a chance to be civil if you just put down your pride in the meantime? If there was another way to look at things even though it hurt your ego, then perhaps you could actually learn from each other and as Rei said, even become friends.

You weren’t sure if you’d actually be able to work together or just end up arguing like usual, but if you try hard enough, then maybe, just maybe...there’s a chance for something different to happen. And whatever it was, you could only hope that it would benefit the project that you shared.

Heavy, thick, and uncomfortable silence.

That was how you would describe your first proper meeting with Yang Jungwon for your godforsaken project.

Jungwon arrived first to your agreed-upon meeting spot, much to your dismay, but it wasn’t like you were late either. You were both simply too compliant and did not want to provoke each other by not adhering to the scheduled time of arrival.

You hadn’t expected an almost non-existent conversation throughout the first few minutes. Jungwon only reiterated what you had already discussed on chat (that barely lasted a minute) about the project and you both settled on studying the subject matter in the meantime, an almost suffocating atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

You wondered why it suddenly seemed like all the heat of a possible argument vanished, replaced by an unsettling and almost palpable tension. Maybe it was the proximity of working together in a quiet space, or it could’ve been the fact that none of you wanted to have a situation escalate from nothing and mess with your work.

Either way, your stolen glances from each other and the pin-drop silence spoke volumes of how painfully awkward it was all. The both of you were very sure that if your friends were here to witness the sight, their first words would be asking the reason behind such unnatural quietness.

You tried to focus on outlining a draft for the project, you swore you really did, but God it was very hard to do so when every detail you noticed for every minute pointed to all the differences that you could think of between you and the student council president.

Jungwon’s gaze would constantly switch from his laptop to a pile of papers on the table, the practiced ease in his calculated movements almost making it seem like he had a well-powered engine inside of him, meanwhile you were unsure of just what you had to do, evident in the way your hands kept on fidgeting with the cap of your pen.

Even the blue cardigan he was wearing and the orange bow on your hair seemed to emphasize how you were sitting opposite each other, so close yet unbearably distant. Though you were sure that if Rei was here, she would look on the bright side and say that the two colors are complementary. You internally shiver.

Every time that his phone lit up with a notification, you would see the lockscreen wallpaper of him and his friends and it would instantly remind you how outgoing and approachable he was.

Jungwon was good at socializing, and while you stepped out of your comfort zone when needed, you were often reserved. Jungwon knew when to be serious, but most of the time, he was playful and enthusiastic. On the other hand, you took things too seriously more often than not.

You were a quiet observer, and it overwhelmed you sometimes how Jungwon was a constant whirlwind of energy, something you couldn’t keep up with. You were emotional yet preferred routine, and Jungwon was logical but could be spontaneous. He had the ability to just go with the flow, always fearless and carefree. It was a quality that you both admired and resented, reminding you of your insecurities.

Fine, maybe Rei was right. Maybe you were jealous of Yang Jungwon after all.

What you didn’t know was that he was having his own internal debate presently, his composed demeanor perfectly concealing his loud thoughts. Behind the personality you envied, Jungwon often wondered if his own fire would burn him.

He thought of it as a stark contrast to your calm and composure, something he found intriguing, intimidating, and oddly attractive—all at the same time, and it made him feel uncertain of how to approach you.

It didn’t help that his perceived laid-back and nonchalant persona of yours only seemed to break away whenever it came to him. He wasn’t exactly sure whether he should be satisfied or disconcerted by it, especially when he had never meant to get you so worked up.

Jungwon has always seen you as an enigma that he couldn’t help but be drawn to. Although right now, that curiosity was mixed in with simmering frustration as he took in the situation before him. The uncomfortable silence only seemed to amplify every movement and sound from the two of you, and it was gnawing at him.

He waited a little more just to see if you would finally speak up and do something, but he could sense that you were even more tense than he was. He gave it a minute. Two. Three.

Until he couldn’t take it anymore. He closed his notebook with a gentle but distinct thump, the quiet snap intentional to draw your eyes up to him in an instant.

“Okay, can we just...” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them, they bore into you with a desperate intensity as he forced a calm demeanor. “...please talk for a moment?”

You gulped. “Y-yeah, sure.” You felt your hands go cold and your heart pounding, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing at once. “What...where do we start?”

Jungwon sighs, sensing that you were still feeling tense with the whole ordeal. “Y/N, are you scared of me? Or mad at me?” He softly asks.

Your eyes go round and you quickly shake your head, straightening up in your seat. “No! No, of course not. Not at all.”

A wave of relief washes over him at your immediate response, but he still felt the need to reassure you and to get started with the project as well. “Okay, good. I’m glad we got that out of the way. It’s just...”

He bites his lower lip for a moment, pondering how to phrase his words. “I know we’re not exactly the best people to be paired, but we’re a team now. And we have to make this work. Let’s set aside our differences for a while. I’m sure that would be fine with you?”

You go still in surprise at his seriousness, but Jungwon takes it as hesitance on your part so he speaks up again. “You can nitpick me all you want after all of this but just for now—just for the whole timeframe of these projects...let’s have a truce.”

“Yes, of course,” You nod immediately and give him a half-smile. “We’re going to work. Nothing personal here.”

He sees the hint of bashfulness in your expression, but he’s just glad that you didn’t ignore or refuse him, unlike what he was expecting. He nods and kindly returns your smile before he turns his laptop to you.

“Let’s start with dividing our tasks.”

Within a few hours, you both managed to work in silence, but the awkwardness had gradually slipped now and was replaced with a sense of cooperation, understanding that this was a serious matter that needed your wits and not your arguments.

You weren’t exactly expecting to have a full-on debate with Yang Jungwon when you had both decided to work in the library, but it felt like a pleasant surprise to be in the same vicinity as him in hours and not get into an intellectual sparring.

Time quickly passed by and soon enough, you two decided to wrap things up for the day. As you checked the time on your phone, Jungwon couldn’t help but notice the ragdoll cat on your lockscreen, recognizing what it was in an instant even though it was upside down in his direction.

“You like cats?”

Although surprised at his attempt to start a conversation, you realized that he caught the picture and you turned the screen to face him. “Yeah. It’s my cat. Her name’s Chloe.”

His eyes lit up and you didn’t know why but at that moment, Jungwon’s eyes seemed cat-like to you. The thought made you still, your gaze lingering on him a little longer than you had meant to.

You had always seen how unfairly beautiful it was from afar, and now you felt star-struck observing them closely; almond-shaped that perfectly curved near the ends and somehow made his eyes look bigger, every speck in its irises reflecting the golden hue of the afternoon sun like a mirror ball.

You wished you had eyes as pretty as his.

“Oh, cool. She looks adorable. I like cats as well, though I’m allergic to them.” His soft laugh brings you out of your thoughts and he scans through his phone to show you something. “But here, I have a dog. His name is Maeum.”

Unexpectedly, you fall into a light conversation with Yang Jungwon about your pets, the discussion going further even as you walked through the halls until you parted ways to go home.

The unlikely chat gave you an odd sense of comfort, only realizing how relaxed you were as you walked towards the bus stop, a far cry from how you felt when you first sat across Jungwon at the library.

You could hardly believe it, and your mind was still absorbing the event as you arrived at your home. A decent talk with Yang Jungwon without having the urge to bicker with him. All because you both had pets.

It felt silly to think about. But for the nth time that day, you realized that maybe Rei was right after all. You might have more in common than you think and it was a good start of forming a professional relationship with Yang Jungwon.

The thought didn’t seem so bad now, you were open to it. A chance for something new.

enhypen - not for sale, tfw 𓇗 troye sivan, gordi - wait

On your fourth day of working together, things were unfortunately not working out for you, making you a little grumpier than usual. Jungwon notices, but he doesn’t say anything until he hears you grumbling under your breath.

It just so happened that you injured your finger due to a clumsy mistake yesterday, and it hurt so bad that you couldn’t even tie your precious hair. It kept on falling over your face as you typed onto your laptop, but when you tried to put it up into a ponytail, the cut on your finger would hurt like hell.

Jungwon couldn’t bear to just mirror your winces any longer. So he rises from his seat and rounds the table to get to your side.

“Let me help you.”

Before you could even process his words, he already grabbed the scrunchie from your wrist and your brush, while his other hand begins to gently gather your hair as he stood behind you.

“What are you—”

“Just keep on working.”

Your fingers awkwardly hover above the keyboard at first, unsure how to take the sudden help. But as he starts brushing your hair with his fingers as gently as he could, you slowly relax and go back to your work, your mind half-occupied with him.

Unknown to you, the boy was just as nervous, maybe even more. He couldn’t believe how flustered he was getting at the feeling of your soft strands under his fingertips, despite being the one who offered to help in the first place, especially since it wasn’t just about your wincing—he knows that you can’t focus if your hair is in an unkempt state.

Jungwon internally swears he isn’t a creep. He only knows because he witnessed you several times tying your hair up when you need to focus on something, he would also see you raking a hand over your hair in frustration when it’s just cascading down your shoulders, which oddly makes you look attractive. Objectively, he claims internally once more.

After a few minutes, he gives your head a few pats to ensure that it was neatly styled, before going back to his seat. You mutter “thank you” and you think he’s finally done, but he doesn’t respond with a single word. Instead, he takes out a tin case from his backpack and gently grabs your hand across the table, much to your surprise.

“Why—” Your words were cut off once more when a Cinnamoroll-printed band-aid is then wrapped around your finger, his touch feather-light as he gauges your reaction for any discomfort, expecting a wince the most.

But you could only stare at him in pure astonishment, your mind reeling from his actions for the past minutes.

“Where did you cut yourself? You should be more careful,” he casually says as he puts the tin case back to his bag. “And put a band-aid on it next time. You could get an infection.”

At a loss for words, you only give him an awkward nod and go back to your work even though your mind was still stuck on what he did. Despite your bashfulness, you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his act either so you just muttered “thank you” once more.

Jungwon acknowledges it with a nod and his gaze lingers on you for a few moments before he decides to get to his own tasks as well, more focused now that he sees you at ease while working.

You both work in peace for the following hours, conversations only filled with questions and comments about the project, with the occasional off-topic subjects that sneaked in.

By the end of the day, Jungwon realizes that with the softening of your long-standing rivalry, a mutual respect had always existed between the two of you, his observation echoing in the way you had both eased into the truce.

As a matter of fact, Jungwon had even began to hope that it wasn’t just a truce. That maybe if this dance of a burgeoning understanding with the two of you would grow, perhaps, you could be something more than each other’s worthy rivals.

It has now been 9 days since you started working together and although you still had a few banters and intellectual debates here and there, things were pretty much going well between the two of you, especially when it came to the projects.

You had also made an effort to learn a little about Jungwon. His favorite color is blue and orange, he was raised by his grandma, he likes curry and strawberries with chocolate, he did taekwondo for 7 years, he had a cactus named Injang who has now crossed the rainbow bridge (rest in peace), and he weirdly loves ‘slay’ as a slang. He has learnt the word and never looked back since then.

Jungwon learned some basic things about you as well and as much as you disliked it, you did have some common ground after all. You had even started to bond over things like your overbearing teachers and stressful exams, a surprising amount of shared interests and hobbies popping up as you got to know each other throughout the days.

At some point during the past week, you even had the chance to witness him in his leader mode at the student council office. He was seriously running the place like an actual president, as a resolute yet empathetic leader.

While the council members wondered why you were patiently waiting for Jungwon to finish his job, knowing the history between you two, you were busy admiring how focused he was with his work and the way he interacted with his members. It gave you a new-found layer of respect for him.

And with every passing day, the atmosphere between you two were becoming lighter at the goal of only making it through the projects without turning into ardent debaters, even when you still had occasional disagreements.

It was 3 in the afternoon as you found yourselves in the same spot at the library, silently working on your laptops and papers. Despite the intense focus that Jungwon had on his own tasks, he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes were getting droopy and how you would lean your head onto your palm.

He thinks that naturally, you must be tired, but he was too cautious to say anything until you brought out a tablet from your bag along with your tumbler and a small packet of crackers.

“What are you drinking that for?”

“Headache,” you simply reply. His forehead creases and he points to the crackers in your hands.

“And you’re only eating that?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not enough.”

“But I have to nap after. I can’t have anything heavy.”

“You need something better.”

“Jungwon, I always do this.”

He heaves a deep sigh at your defiance and quickly stands up. “Wait here. Don’t do anything yet.”

He was already out of the library before you could even reply, and you decided to wait just as he asked, even though you were already itching to just gulp down the medicine.

You didn’t know if Jungwon had a superhuman speed of some sort as 5 minutes later, he was already back at your table, holding a small box of precut oranges and a tuna mayo sandwich.

He wordlessly drops them in front of you before he goes back to his seat, running a hand through his hair from the race he had just brought upon himself. You glance at the foods at the table, feeling a very strange warmth spread through your chest at what he did.

How does he even know that this was the sandwich you liked and always ordered at the cafeteria? Was it just a coincidence? Or perhaps, he must’ve noticed it when you went together last time?

“Um...thank you.” He nods and warmly smiles in spite of your awkwardness, and you quietly begin to unwrap the sandwich so you can already take the medication.

Jungwon takes a few moments to observe your figure, his eyes noticing the weariness in your own, which wasn’t that visible if not looked upon closely.

He forces himself to tear his gaze away and begins typing again, but he couldn’t stop himself from commenting, masking his concern with a nonchalant tone.

“You know, Y/N, I can’t believe how you’ve always had the energy to argue with me when you’re this careless of yourself.”

“...what?”

“You always prioritize your studies and other people before yourself. Sometimes you would even skip meals. Rei and Liz would be at the cafeteria without you and you’re up in our room or God knows where, doing something to push yourself even more.”

You can’t hold back from asking this time. “How did you—”

“It’s not cute, really,” Jungwon deflects. “What if you collapse one day? Your grades wouldn’t save you, Y/N. Some people out there would be worried about you.”

Like me, he thinks.

“Okay...?” You chew slowly, unsure just how to respond with his gentle scolding. “I...I do take care of myself.”

“Really?” He scoffs. “When? How?”

“Like...right now.”

“Yeah, right. You would’ve taken those nasty crackers if I wasn’t here.” He rolls his eyes and you couldn’t help but smile a little, seeing through his apparently exasperated act.

Once you were done, you laid your arms on the table and rested the side of your head on it, and Jungwon’s gaze lands from his laptop to you, silently checking for any sign of distress.

“I’ll just take a nap, Jungwon. I promise. I’ll help you when I—”

“No,” He shakes his head even when your eyes had already closed. “Take your time. To be honest, you should be at the nurse’s office instead.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t force yourself to only nap,” He interjects again. “Just take your time. I’ll watch over you.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is a mix of awe and gratitude at Jungwon’s caring nature, a sense of security embracing you.

He stayed true to his word and looked at you from time to time, brushing the hair that fell across your face to not block your breathing and even draping his cardigan over you to keep you warm and comfortable as you slept.

A swirl of strange emotions bubbled up within Jungwon whenever he took in the sight of your peaceful sleeping form, and he couldn’t understand why. He would’ve done the same thing for Riki and Sunoo if they were in your position. Or anyone, actually.

But something about your frustrating stubbornness that perpetually bothered him every time makes him feel a near sense of protectiveness towards you, and he was sure it was crazy to even think of.

You had already clarified that you weren’t scared of or mad at him, so he couldn’t even fathom why you seemed to dislike him before you were put together for the projects. Had he unknowingly wronged you in the past? Was it something he did that irked you? Were you perhaps, uncomfortable or overwhelmed with how bubbly he is? He was clueless.

But what he knows is that he wouldn’t give up on your stubborn side, and he’d be willing to show you that he could be a good friend just as he was a good rival to you.

However, as much as Jungwon thinks you’re the most stubborn person he’s ever met, you could basically say the same about him.

It was now your sixteenth day of working together with the student council president and you swear you would probably kick the boy if he doesn’t have a fever right now.

“Y/N, for the last time, I’m fine.”

“Fine?” You raise an eyebrow. “Does “fine” mean sweating like crazy with a flushed face and reading the same page again and again for the past 15 minutes? Is that the definition of fine to you?”

“Well, I can power through this. Trust me.” He smiles at you but you don’t buy his words for even a bit. Not when he looks like he’s about to pass out at any moment.

“Oh, please.” He only chuckles at your eye roll, but you’re seriously not having it anymore. “Jungwon, I’ve had enough. You’re going to the clinic. Now.”

“I told you, I’m—whoa!” You quickly pull him up to his feet after cleaning up your things, your firm grip on his hand making it clear that there was no longer room for argument.

You go off about how stubborn he is at studying despite being sick, but it doesn’t mean it’s good for him to do so. However, your words fall on deaf ears as Jungwon could only focus on the way your hand feels in his and the evident concern in your voice, wrapping his heart with an unfamiliar warmth in a way he never expected.

Anyone could tell by the scowl on your face that you were just being stern as usual, but Jungwon oddly thinks to himself that you rather look like an adorable, grumpy kitten.

A faint smile plays on his lips at the thought, and he pushes down a sudden urge to just ruffle your hair and pinch your cheek—something he didn’t want to acknowledge at why he even thought of in the first place.

A few days later, Jungwon finds himself in the same predicament as he stands under the drizzling rain and hears your voice calling out to him in the distance.

“Yang Jungwon, what are you doing?!”

He barely had time to think of an answer before you marched towards him with an umbrella in your hand, frustration and worry written all over your face.

Jungwon wonders why your expression and nagging at how he’s being careless—considering he had just recovered from a fever—was making his heart beat like crazy, when he was supposed to find it annoying, or at least that’s what he’d like to think.

“It’s fine,” He smiles at you as if the back and shoulders of his blazer isn’t already damp from a few minutes of standing under the drizzle. “You worry too much, Y/N.”

“Or you’re just a bit careless sometimes, really,” You roll your eyes at him but he only returns it with a laugh, completely enamored by your kind nature, even if you expressed it by nagging at him.

He found himself oddly comforted with the respectful banter that had grown between the two of you for the past weeks, feeling like your rivalry had began to chip away with every laugh and joke that you shared.

By the 20th day (yes, you were keeping track of how many days it has been), the both of you were now comfortable enough to tease each other, a banter that for the first time in your lives, held no underlying tension. It took you some time to realize that your rivalry was non-existent now, as if something unspoken had shined through your dynamics.

Today was no different as the two of you settled on the same table you’ve been occupying for the past few weeks, the nook almost serving as a hang-out spot now, or your romantic rendezvous, as Rei and Liz would like to call it.

You had just ended your PE class and you already went ahead to the library, using your spare period to work on the project, much to the surprise and teasing of your and Jungwon’s friends. They couldn’t buy your excuse as a pair of wanting to use any free time to do something productive.

You were just about to open your laptop when you noticed how the top button of Jungwon’s shirt was undone and his necktie loose, showing a glimpse of his collarbone. His forehead was still glistening with a sheen of sweat, an evidence of how fervently he played dodgeball earlier. He must’ve missed it when he changed uniforms.

“Jungwon,” You call out, your gaze lingering a little longer than you had intended to on his slightly exposed skin. “Your...shirt.”

You awkwardly gesture to him and realize how you had been staring, quickly looking away to scan the interface of your laptop. He follows your gaze to his uniform and he immediately understands but as he goes to touch to button, he slowly looks back at you, a sly smile forming on his face.

“Y/N.”

You only hum in response and glance at him, but you weren’t able to tear your gaze away this time as you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“How did you see it anyway? Were you staring right there, hmm?”

You gape in bewilderment, eyes going wide at his accusation. “Wha— I wasn’t! I-I just happened to see it!”

“Oh really?” He shows off his signature eyebrow raise with a smirk, and the sight makes him somehow both annoying and attractive to you.

“I— Yang Jungwon, I am not a pervert!” He chuckles at your sulky frown, the low and warm sound of it only making you hate how he’s having so much fun right now.

He hums and looks away, feigning a serious consideration at your words. “Hmm, I do think that’s a little pervy, Y/N.”

You crumple a piece of paper and throw it at him, but he swiftly dodges it as he laughs. “Just kidding, just kidding. I was just teasing you.”

He goes to button his shirt and tighten his necktie while you bring out a DSLR camera and turn your laptop on, planning to transfer some files. Jungwon, ever the curious cat that he is, comes over to sit right beside you and peeks into your camera.

“What are you doing?”

“Just some stuff.” Jungwon huffs at your short reply but he continues to watch as you expertly manage the device. “Are those your shots?”

“Mm, they’re mine. Just a hobby though.” He hums at your answer while his eyes remain on the screen, making amused sounds at almost every photo he sees. “So you like photography?”

You shrug, reluctant to give a certain answer. “I just like to shoot pretty things.”

“I’m pretty too. You can shoot me.”

“Oh, like shoot you with an arrow?”

He bursts out laughing at your sarcasm, and you gently hit his arm, reminding him that you were in the library. Once his laughter dies down, his gaze shifts from you and the camera as he speaks with a casual tone.

“They’re really beautiful. You have a talent for this.”

A genuine smile lit up your face at his compliment, though you couldn’t hold back a slightly smug reply. “Thanks. Are you impressed?”

He smiles. “Do you want me to be?”

Amusement and disbelief mixes together as you blink at him, completely taken aback by his response. Was this flirting? Was he flirting? Or were you just too flustered by nothing? He smirks at your reaction and you roll your eyes, pretending to be unfazed.

“I don’t really care.” But a part of you thinks that maybe you actually cared. You wanted him to be impressed. And he seems to have read your thoughts.

“I am impressed. That’s amazing, honestly.” You felt a bit shy, quietly replying words of gratitude. But Jungwon doesn’t stop there and decides to continue showering you with praises so casually as you begin to move files from the camera to the laptop.

“I’ve always thought you were talented, but the more we talked these days, I saw how you were a lot more admirable than I initially thought.” He rests his cheek on his fist and stares at you. “You’re very intelligent and hardworking. Creative too. Not that I’m only realizing it now. I just wanted to say it.”

“What has gotten into you?” You incredulously ask him, but the smile on your face betrays how you truly feel and he sees it too.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Is it so bad to speak of the truth now? You are admirable. Even when you’re very stubborn sometimes. And you’re always so composed too. I like how you think things through carefully.”

“Well um...thank you.” Jungwon smiles at the mellifluous laugh that bubbles up from you, your hands now working on autopilot as you absorb his words.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re just as admirable. You work really hard as a student and as the council president. That’s a tough job. You make everything look so easy, but it must be really hard.”

The curve of his lips turn into a subtle one, your words touching his heart more than he’d like to admit. He falls upon the realization that in spite of your old rivalry, you both shared a respect of and valued each other’s intelligence and abilities.

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” He replies softly. “Can I ask you something though?”

“Sure.”

He takes a short pause as if contemplating what he wants to say before he finally speaks up.

“I was just wondering why...why you always seem to push yourself so hard. Not that it’s completely bad, but it’s just, I feel like you’re straining yourself sometimes. You’re not...being pressured by anyone, are you?”

You get the implication of his words in an instant and you shake your head. “No, no. My parents aren’t like that. They’re very supportive, actually.”

He slowly nods, and he gets the sense that you wouldn’t want to directly say that it’s you who pressures yourself. Even without your confirmation, he could feel it. “So what is it then?”

He’s confused at the casual shrug you give him, not buying how you’re playing it off as something insignificant. “It’s nothing. And it’s kind of stupid even.”

He straightens up in his seat and slightly moves closer, his gentle voice coaxing you. “I’m certain it’s not “stupid”. If you’re comfortable, you can tell me. I’ll listen.”

You take a few moments to consider his words, keeping your eyes trained on the screen as you hoped you wouldn’t break down into tears.

“I want to make my parents proud.”

Jungwon felt like his heart dropped at the subdued sadness in your voice and he stays silent, waiting for you to continue.

“They’re usually away for work. At first it was just my dad, then my mom followed. I...I just don’t want to make their sacrifices go to waste. The least I could do is study hard and prove myself worthy of why they’re working for our family. So I have to be good enough. I want to be at my best.”

You take a shuddery deep breath, still keeping in the urge to break down. “For myself too, I guess. I know I can be better. I can’t be complacent. I know there’s more to me and I will push myself to reach that.”

He listens intently as you speak and when you were done, he tentatively touches your arm and speaks softly. “You are good enough, Y/N. I’m sure your parents know that. And I know they wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Nobody would want you to.”

As you tear your gaze away from the monitor, your eyes meet Jungwon’s, a sense of empathy and understanding surrounding the air as you gazed at each other. You didn’t know why, but it made your heart swell, seeing and feeling his concern for you.

His hand moved to go on top of yours, patting it reassuringly. “You know, my...my parents are often away from home too. So I understand.”

The strained smile that flickered across his face tells you that he didn’t just understand, he must have struggled with it too, one way or another.

“They’re um...highly regarded in their own fields, I would say. So, often very busy. And though I won’t exactly pursue their careers, I want to follow their footsteps and be just as outstanding. I want to make them proud too. But beyond that...”

He nibbled on his bottom lip, eyes drifting away for a moment before looking back at you. It was easy to tell that Jungwon was opening up to you right now, unexpectedly finding comfort in your presence as his vulnerability showed through with every word that tore down his defenses, feelings that he thought were buried for so long now coming to the surface.

“I just want to prove myself...to me. To prove myself worthy with every accomplishment that I make. It’s why one of the things I admired about you is how you seem so put together.” He wryly laughs, and you could feel your heart shatter. “I wish I was always like that. I only seem like it from the outside. But everything feels like a huge mess inside of me. Like a fire that I can’t tame.”

Your heart breaks even more at his confession, shock and sympathy both crashing over you like a tidal wave. Not only had Jungwon implied that he wished he had something that you had, but he also confessed to feeling like he wasn’t good enough. That somehow, even with all the good things he had going on, he still felt like an utter chaos within.

You wanted to tell him that your “put together” demeanor was just an unconscious facade as well, but you couldn’t seem to find the right words to say at the moment. It was only then that you had realized, you were both seeing yourselves in an almost distorted way, a pretense looming over your characters like a shadow.

You wanted to return his encouragement with the only words that ran through your mind, your hand gently taking his in what you hoped would offer even a bit of comfort, and gave the most reassuring smile you could muster.

“You’re doing great, Yang Jungwon. You’re loved.”

Your few words, despite its simplicity, brings a soft smile to his face, and he quickly laughs away the tears that lined in his eyes, squeezing your hand in silent gratitude.

“I guess I am.” He intertwines your fingers as his smile turns into a grin, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “I think we’re both doing great, Y/N. We’re loved.”

A comfortable silence filled the air, your eyes locked in a moment of understanding and comfort in each other’s presence before Jungwon speaks up again.

“So, you think we should arrange a double date for our parents sometime?” You couldn’t help but snort at his randomness but he only continues, feigning a serious look. “That’d be fun. And of course, we’d join too. It’s like a family night out or something.”

You shake your head, and Jungwon is barely unable to resist a giggle. “Great thinking, genius.”

“Why, thank you.” He gives you a pretend bow and he chuckles at his own antics.

You share a few more minutes of almost unending jokes and laughter, before deciding that a quick trip to the cafeteria was now more appealing than doing the project in your spare time.

The two of you knew for sure now that something had definitely shifted in your relationship, seeing each other from a new perspective that you had ignored for how many years.

Jungwon felt a sense of relief at the realization, knowing that the danced he had hoped to last for a little longer was now blooming into something real—a genuine connection between the two of you that he had always longed for.

𓇗 enhypen - orange flower 𓇗

It was almost two months now from the day you settled on a truce with Jungwon for the sake of your grades. You had stopped tracking your days with him after the 30th, realizing that there was no point to count anymore on how long it would take for the two of you to fight again. You initially betted it would only take a week.

Your first project was drawing to a close and as much as you’re quite embarassed to outwardly admit it, you have grown fond of working with him, or just spending time with him in general. It came to a point that your friend groups have now become closer too, with the six of you usually seen at the cafeteria or just messing around together during your free hours.

You didn’t know how you managed to actually be civil and hold more decent (maybe even fun) conversations with Yang Jungwon in just two months than you did in the past years.

On one relaxing afternoon, you decided to take a break by going to the garden with your camera. You went around and captured every pretty thing that you found, from the blue skies to the whole landscape and the mesmerizing flowers in sight.

As you went around, continously clicking the shutter button, one particular flower catches your eye through the lens and you crouch down to get a closer look.

They were of a bluish purple color and bell-shaped, bowing down on the stem as if shying away from the sun. You reached out to graze its petals, its soft feel against your fingertips and the enticing hue making you think of only one thing.

...beautiful.

“They’re called Bluebells.”

You whip your head to the side and see the student council president standing idly with his hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze shifting from the blooms to you.

“You like it?” He walks closer until he was just about two steps away from your crouching form and the both of you turn to look at the flowers again.

“Yeah,” You mutter. “They’re pretty.”

Jungwon hums in response, a small smile playing along his lips. “They remind me of you.”

You quickly turn to him, and he only chuckles at the sound of surprise that you made.

“Bluebells...they often represent humility and modesty, among with a lot more things.” His gaze travels from the flowers to your eyes then he smiles softly. “And they all remind me of you.”

Okay, pause. What was Yang Jungwon spewing out of his mouth right now? And why was it suddenly making your heart race?

Flustered by his comment, you turn your head away and try to play it cool, although Jungwon completely sees through you. How could he not when your face was glowing with a soft, delicate pink?

“Oh, really?” You ask in a nonchalant tone. “Where did you even learn that?”

“My grandma likes gardening. She taught me everything about plants since I was a kid. Eventually, I learnt the meanings of some flowers too. You know, floriography?”

You nod in response and he continues. “Yeah, that. I’m not really an expert, I would say. But I definitely have some knowledge on it.”

“Oh...” You unknowingly whisper. “That’s cool.”

Jungwon smirks at your comment, finding an opportunity to possibly fluster you again. “Are you impressed?”

You scoff as he uses your own words from last time, and you lift an eyebrow at him. “Do you want me to be?”

He gives you a lopsided smile and shrugs. “To be honest, I kind of want you to.”

And there it was. Jungwon laughs softly at the second wave of coral blush that paints across your face, and you pretend to be unbothered by standing up and rolling your eyes. “Whatever.”

You walk away and approach the fountain nearby, but Jungwon promptly catches up and you’re not sure whether you’re annoyed or endeared by his loud and genuine laugh.

“Hey, Bluebell! Wait for me!”

You sit by the rim of the fountain, the lush sound of the flowing water and the mindless scanning through your camera’s gallery doing nothing to distract you from what Jungwon had said.

What did he even mean by that? And if it meant what you thought it did, then why were you so affected? You weren’t stupid enough to draw a plausible conclusion, but the thought itself was stupid—that maybe you were feeling just a little something for Yang Jungwon.

Maybe it’s just because of how cute he was and that oh so adorable dimple of his. Right. That’s it.

Jungwon sits beside you by the fountain, though he maintains a respectful distance, just in case you were still feeling flustered. “I really did mean that, Bluebell.”

The shift in his voice and his repeated use of the flower’s name to address you sends your mind in a frenzy, unable to focus on the several photos you were distractedly scanning.

“...that you remind me of all that there is to the flower. They’re all good things, I promise you. Like faithfulness, hope, and dreams. And...I was honestly hoping you’d be impressed. That wasn’t a joke.”

His earnest admission makes you finally look up, and you abruptly push aside your nerves to reassure him. “Don’t worry, I-I was impressed. If that’s what you wanted to hear. I...that, that’s cool. The floriography and everything.”

Jungwon fondly smiles at your response, adoring how bashful yet honest you were. “And the bluebell too,” You add. “I um...thanks. I suppose...I should learn about it sometime.”

“You should,” Jungwon gently ruffles your hair and you try to act nonchalant again. “It’s fun. I can even tell you the meaning of every flower you’d capture. How’s that?”

You give him a nod and Jungwon smiles, giving you a mini lecture at once about floriography, and he even mentions to you that his grandmother likes white lilies, which symbolized purity and rebirth.

As he continues to talk about the language of flowers, you barely notice how time passes by, only becoming aware again when the warm glow of the sun fell on Jungwon’s face, making him look unbelievably ethereal.

The way his eyes sparkled as he spoke enthusiastically, his face brightening up with glee and laughter—Jungwon was the epitome of a pretty and charming boy, your rivalry didn’t blind you from it. But has he always looked this beautiful? The sight of the golden rays highlighting his features seemed to echo your thoughts of seeing him in a new light after all these years.

It reminded you of how much you didn’t know about Jungwon yet. But in spite of it, you knew that even if the prettiest flower were in sight, you already had a beautiful one to catch in frame—right beside you.

It was very telling of his name. Garden. Jungwon was like a gardenscape, every piece of his life a flower that held a story in it, something that you found more interesting than any of the flowers he had told you of.

And a whisper in your heart bloomed, yearning for a chance to explore that garden.

enhypen - just a little bit 𓇗 lauv - steal the show

One day, during a row of vacant hours in your schedule, you found yourselves sitting at your usual spot in the library, agreeing to review and revise a few things in your project.

But you left your laptop at home, not expecting the free time that you had been blessed with today. So you decide to give your flash drive to Jungwon instead for him to have access to your side of the work.

However, he quickly takes notice of the exhaustion on your features, sensing that you hadn’t been able to take a good rest. He casually tells you to go take a nap while he takes care of the presentation, and you couldn’t help but argue for a little while, feeling a bit guilty that you’d just sleep on him while he does the work.

Jungwon wasn’t one to quickly back down though. He feels a little frustrated at how the two of you have been going back and forth on the matter when you could just simply comply to his suggestion and take your much needed rest.

But his genuine concern for you overpowered his vexation, fully intent on giving you what you needed rather than have you work without focus and just strain yourself further. And so you finally caved in, but not without asking one last time to be really positive that it was fine with him.

“Jungwon, are you sure?”

He sighs for the nth time and slowly nods to reaffirm his approval, certain that he was on the verge of just manifesting a pillow out of thin air if he could, just so you would already sleep.

“Yes, yes, yes. I’m not going to repeat myself, Y/N. Go take a rest. I’ll handle this.”

“Fine.” You defeatedly sigh and rest your arms and head on the table. “Just don’t mess around with my movies and stuff in there. You might end up deleting something.”

“Oh,” Jungwon slightly leans forward to the screen and playfully squints his eyes at some of the folders, “like enha lore edits, enha performances, animated films—”

You immediately lift your head up and shoot him a half-hearted glare, but he only snickers at your reaction and shakes his head amusedly.

“Jungwon, I swear, if you touch those folders and something goes missing—”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He brings his hand up to do a scout’s honor gesture, a wide grin plastered on his face. “I promise. Just the project.”

You feign a scoff of disbelief before bringing your head down again and muttering. “You better. Or else...”

Jungwon waits for you to continue your words, but after a minute or so, he sees your eyes shut, your breathing slow and steady. Seeing the peaceful expression on your face brings a faint smile to his face before he goes back to his laptop and start to work.

He glances at you from time to time to check how you’re doing, relieved that you’re still taking your rest. He knows you’d probably get mad at him for not waking you up by the time you had set, but in his defense, he simply found it hard to wake you up when you looked like you really needed that sleep.

A bit more than an hour passes by when Jungwon decides to take a break from working and stretches his arms, his gaze falling to you for a moment before he skims over the file to view his progress.

Once he’s done, he plays around with the cursor and scrolls through the folders out of boredom. Suddenly, one of the folders open without him intending to and panic sets in him right away as he straightens up and looks for the exit button.

He promised to not view any of your other files and even when you’re asleep, he did not want to break that. However, just as he was about to press on it, one of the thumbnails catch his attention and makes him still for a moment.

His eyes dart across the screen, seeing “y/n’s camcorder” as the folder’s name and a few dozen other videos whose thumbnail alone was enough to tell that these were some video logs of some sort. But the one that made him freeze earlier was something he would have never expected to see in your flash drive. Him.

He leaned forward to observe the stilled frame closely, and there was no mistake in it. It looked like him years ago. What was he doing in your videos? Did you just happen to catch him in your camera?

Jungwon takes another glance at your sleeping form, torn between his curiosity and the promise he had made to you. But eventually, the former won and he felt a pang of guilt as he clicked on the video to play.

He immediately lowers the volume, just enough for him to hear and moves the laptop away from you as much as possible, straining his eyes and ears as he watched.

“Hello, this is Y/N and um...today, we’re at the school festival. I’m with my friends...”

He immediately realizes that this video was from a few years ago, seeing how young and awkward you looked, and the familiar school shirt you were wearing. It didn’t take long for him to recognize what year it was and you mentioning the date only confirmed it. This was taken in 8th grade.

“Is that your vlog?”

“Y/N, you should start a channel.”

“I want to try the cotton candies!”

“Wait, my shoelaces are—”

Your friends’ voices were mixing together, along with the noises of other students in the background and the music from the band nearby. Even the camera started getting shaky as your laughter filled the air, your joy evident through the screen.

Jungwon couldn’t help but smile at the sight, and he figures that maybe you just really happened to capture him for a moment, that’s why he was on the thumbnail. He goes over to the exit button but just like earlier, something immediately makes him stop from finally doing it.

The camera turns around to no particular direction, the surroundings caught in a constant blur before it finally settles on something. The busy chatters of all the students including your friends were still heard in the background, but your voice wasn’t there anymore and the camera was now stable, as if you had stilled upon the sight that seeped to your lens. It was then that Jungwon’s heart skipped a beat and realized why he saw himself in the frame earlier.

You were recording him.

And it wasn’t just a mere second, or even a few. You had filmed him from a distance as he managed a stall with some classmates, a wide smile etched on his face while he moved around and interacted with the other students. He even laughs for a moment and despite the low volume he set on the laptop, Jungwon swears he heard a soft laugh from you too.

Suddenly, he turned his head to a certain direction and you must’ve panicked that he would see you, because the camera whipped around to literally anywhere but his stall, laughing as you pretended to be engaged in your friends’ discussion.

His mind raced with several thoughts in an instant as the video went on. 8th grade. The year your rivalry bubbled up. School festival. But this happened before that.

Why were you recording him for almost a minute? He wasn’t even doing anything that you could possibly use against him. He was just there doing his work, and you were filming him like you had caught something special that you wanted to preserve. Impossible.

Jungwon snaps from his thoughts as he hears you stir, and he quickly drags the cursor to the exit button several times until his laptop’s main interface was now on display. He feels like he had just committed a crime.

As you repeatedly blink awake and focus your eyes on your wristwatch, Jungwon wonders if you had heard the sounds from the video or it just really happened that you’ve had enough rest now.

He notices your lingering stare at the time and he gets the feeling that you’re both disappointed and relieved that he didn’t wake you up in 30 minutes, but he knows you’d certainly be mad at him once he tells you what he did, because he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

He waits a little longer to see if you’re already fully awake and as you start to gather some of your things to begin working again, he takes a deep breath to brace himself.

“Y/N...”

You pause for a moment and look up at him, sensing a tinge of anxiety in his voice. Setting your things aside for now, you cross your arms on the table and response with a hum, urging him to continue.

The longer he looked into your eyes, the more that his curiosity and guilt grew and he didn’t even know if he would be prepared for your wrath.

“Y/N, I...please, just let me explain first, alright? I swear, I really didn’t mean to. And you can shout and beat me up later but not here in the library.”

Confusion spreads across your face at his words, the hint of desperation in his voice not escaping your keen observation. Did he actually go into your folders and accidentally delete one of the files?

You reluctantly give him a nod, silently giving him the signal to continue again. Jungwon rubs his sweaty palms at the end of his blazer and he takes another deep breath before he looks you in the eye, his words coming out rushed and yet still clear.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry that I found your camcorder folder. I promise, I did not mean to snoop around, but it just suddenly opened then I saw my face in one of the frames so I clicked on the video and I watched the first few minutes and I was really there.”

Your lips part in surprise, and you honestly didn’t know how to react other than take a glance at his laptop before looking back at him as he kept on confessing.

“I was just curious but I didn’t watch all of it! Just, just the part where I was, and I know it wasn’t an excuse to break what I promised to you. But please believe me, I’m really, really, really sorry, Y/N.”

His breathing was slightly ragged as he finished talking, and despite the guilt gnawing at him, he did not break the eye contact, wanting you to know how sincere he was with the apology. But the lack of response from you made him a little nervous, and he couldn’t help but speak once more.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry, I—” You ignore the most apologetic look you’ve ever seen on his face and grab his laptop without a word, quickly searching for the file he had opened.

Of course, you knew what it was. You knew what video he was talking about, you knew all too well why you had done it, but you wanted to see it for yourself just one more time before you speak up.

He feels as if he’s been holding his breath for so long as he waits for your response, and he nearly apologizes again but then he hears your voice, though your words wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

“I think I need to explain myself.”

A big “what?” echoed in his mind as you put the laptop back to his side and gave him a serious look, like you were preparing for a speech. Why should you be explaining yourself when he’s the one who made a mistake?

“First off, apology accepted.” He breathes a sigh of relief but his face remains somber, the guilt still lingering on him. “I didn’t know you would take ‘curiosity kills the cat’ seriously just because you’re a cat, but you’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”

He lets out a small laugh at your dry humor and he feels his nerves gradually slip away, finding himself amused that you were still able to joke even in a situation like this.

“And next...” You purse your lips for a moment to gather the words in your mind, his eyes slightly widening as he waited with curiosity. “Okay, promise me first you’re not going to think I’m a creep.”

He blinks a few times, unsure if he had heard you right before he bursts in a quiet laugh. He raises his hand up to do a gesture of promise and shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip to suppress another laugh.

You take a deep breath and speak at a normal pace, not wanting to stumble over your words and appear exactly like the person you just made him promise to not think of you.

“That day...I’m not sure if you remember, but it was in 8th grade.” He gives you a nod and your mind flashes back to the day when it happened.

You were turning your camcorder everywhere to find a good spot to film in spite of your friends’ chaos behind you and unintentionally, the camera lands on a certain stall in the distance, a boy captured perfectly in frame as you stared through the screen.

He looked quite familiar. You’ve seen him somewhere, you’re sure of it. Must be the bulletin board or something. You unwittingly stay recording him while your friends bicker about which stall to go to first, and then it finally clicked on you.

Yang Jungwon. Star student. Class monitor and known for his kindness. This was him? Heavens, he looked really...adorable.

Or even the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your whole life.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. You were just an 8th grader. You haven’t even finished the first quarter of your life yet. But damn, he really did look like the cutest boy you’ve ever come across, albeit from a distance.

Smart, kind, and cute? And oh. He has that lovely dimple adorning his face, deepening everytime he smiles. Maybe you even have a small crush on this Yang Jungwon right now. Sure, you didn’t know him that well, at least not yet. But he just looked...so lovely.

Then, that sliver of attraction vanished just as quick as it had appeared when you heard that damned comment from him weeks later along with the look he sent you across the room—and it completely disappeared into ashes when you became classmates by the next year.

“I don’t know if you remember too, but this was before,” You make an animated gesture to emphasize, “this whole thing happened between us.”

He nods. “I remember.”

His confirmation starts to make your heart race and you could only hope that your explanation would make sense to him. “Okay. So, I’m sure you must be wondering why I...did that.”

“The truth is that, I really didn’t mean to record you that day. I was just looking for something to film and my camera happened to land on your stall—and you were there. I was trying to remember who you are, Yang Jungwon, and I also thought you were really pretty.”

Jungwon’s boba-like eyes grow wide at your confession, and he tries to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at it. You intentionally left out the crush part and looked away as you continued.

“I-I know, that probably doesn’t make sense because you didn’t like me, but it’s not like I was exactly blind to—”

“Wait,” Jungwon quickly interrupts, his eyes narrowing at your words, “I...I disliked you? Me?” He asks incredulously, and now you were both looking confusedly at each other.

“Yeah...?” Despite your puzzlement, you were certain of your reason. You couldn’t forget it, even after all these years. “Why are you...um, you said something about me, don’t you remember?”

“I did?” He tilts his head, feeling even more bewildered. “What...what did I say?”

You couldn’t help but start to question yourself now. He was supposed to know, wasn’t he?

“Someone mentioned the...the debate event for that year, and you were joining. Then you...found out I was joining too.” You hated how unsure you sounded now.

“And you said something like, ‘Oh Y/N? Yeah, she’s cool, I guess. Intense opponent.’ Then your friends laughed and you joined them. It sounded very condescending, if you would ask me.”

Jungwon could only stare in bafflement at the desperation slipping in your tone, and a faint blush appears on his cheeks as he slowly pieces things together, but you were too focused on your explanation to even notice his current state.

How was he supposed to tell you that his friends laughed at him and he couldn’t help but laugh too—albeit nervously because...

“And the next day, you were glaring at me from across the room. It was at the meeting for the debate teams.” You heave a deep sigh thinking that he might not have remembered it anymore but then he finally finds his voice.

“G-glaring? Y/N, I...I would never...” He trails off and you take the opportunity to speak up again.

“Never what? You were staring so intensely at me, I was so convinced that I might have done some—” You abruptly pause and blink, an almost horrifying thought dawning on you with your own choice of words.

Staring. Staring. Intensely, but not glaring.

What if...you had just misinterpreted it all?

Jungwon senses your moment of realization and he takes a deep breath, speaking as gently as possible as he explained and his gaze on you unwavering.

“Yes, I stared at you that day but...” He pushes down his nerves to focus on clarifying things to you, knowing that this might just be the conversation you both needed after years of rivalry.

“...not in a bad way. Nor did I mock you when I found out you were joining. I meant it,” His lips tug into a small smile, “I really did think you were cool. And by intense, I meant...passionate. Though, I understand how it might’ve come off differently to you, but the truth is, I was simply too nervous.”

Not just that. I used to have a tiny crush on you.

But Jungwon leaves out that part of his story and warmly smiles at you as he decides to elaborate, hoping you would understand his side. And to your surprise, he’s even looking at you so kindly, his expression almost tender.

“I honestly did not understand why you were so cold to me. All I wanted was to be friends with you and talk to you about academics,” Which is partly true, he thinks.

“But,” He awkwardly laughs and another wave of blush warms his face up to his ears, a bit more evident this time, “I do admit that at some point, it got a little frustrating to me, especially because I’ve always been competitive. And since you never paid attention to me unless it was about school, I...I decided to match your energy.”

Jungwon flashes you a sheepish smile after explaining himself, and now it was your turn to have your jaw dropped, staring at him incredulously. A mix of emotions courses through you all at once—surprise, relief, guilt, embarassment, frustration, and even happiness.

“Good heavens...” You bury your face in your hands with an exasperated sigh and he now feels more awkward than ever until you spoke again, your voice muffled. “Jungwon, I’m so sorry.”

In all honesty, Jungwon doesn’t know how to react. So he gently takes hold of your wrists to pull your hands down, your bashful eyes meeting his tender ones. He quickly notices the flush across your face and he couldn’t help but quietly laugh.

Out of confusion and embarrassment, your features contort into a slight frown and he bites down his lip to stop himself from laughing even more. He shakes his head lightly and moves his hands from your wrist to your palms, gently holding them from across the table.

“Hey, it’s alright,” He says warmly. “It was a mistake. I understand.”

You were actually expecting him to get mad at you or even make fun of your misinterpretation, but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you feel like you might just want to cry on the spot.

“No,” You shake your head apologetically. “I was wrong. And I’m really sorry for that. For...for everything. I’m so stupid. It was so stupid of me to think like that.”

But Jungwon only smiles, his gaze at you softening. “Don’t beat yourself up. I enjoyed our arguments too, you know?”

A flicker of puzzlement flashes through your face and his smile widens. “You were really tough to deal with sometimes—most of the time, really—but you were the only one I liked competing with. Like a worthy opponent, if I may say.”

You stare at him in silence for a few moments, completely perplexed by what you just heard before you let out a groan and shook his hands. “Jungwon, could you please be mad at me?”

“What?” He confusedly asks with a laugh. “I can’t be mad at you when I was entertained sometimes. It’s fun arguing with you because you’re just as smart as me. Maybe even more, I believe.”

His words render you speechless, and a corner of his mouth lifts in a teasing smirk. “Were you the one who was always mad at me then?”

“No, I—” You close your eyes with a grunt and Jungwon lets out a hearty laugh, amused by your frustration. “Okay, fine. I liked arguing with you too. Sometimes. But that doesn’t make me any less wrong, so I was expecting you to be mad at me.”

Jungwon sighs in defeat, though a subtle smile still plays on his lips at your admission. “Alright. I guess that’s reasonable. I’m taking this chance to formally apologize to you then. I’m sorry.”

He slightly leans forward, keeping eye contact with you. “Truly sorry. I’m pretty sure I frustrated you several times especially when I argued just for the sake of opposing you. And to all of the ridiculous things I’ve done to play my role in our dynamic. So I hope that we can start anew, and maybe even become friends.”

The sincerity in his words and in the way he touches your hand lifts off a heavy weight on your shoulders and you sigh deeply with relief, and so does Jungwon. He closes his laptop, deciding that your work for the day was done as there were now more pressing matters to attend to than the project.

“What do you say?” He gently squeezes your hand, expectedly waiting for your answer, the hopeful look in his eyes telling you that he was 100% wanting to hear a ‘yes.’

However, you playfully squint your eyes at him and slightly lean in too, a tinge of playfulness lacing your voice. “Do you still think Romeo and Juliet were impulsive teenagers?”

He blinks a few times at your unexpected response and bursts into quiet laughter, his eyes turning into crescents. “Okay, honestly? I think my perspective had already changed a little over a few weeks ago. They were simply too deep in love.”

“For real?” Your eyes widen and Jungwon nods, his face still beaming, but your voice quiets down. “Well, actually, I gave some thought about your argument before and maybe Shakespeare indeed just wanted to entertain us with a melodramatic—”

“Okay, we’re not going to argue again,” He immediately cuts you off, keeping in his amusement as he tried to sound serious. “Romeo and Juliet is romantic, end of story. Now, what do you say about being friends?”

You thoughtfully hum, feigning a serious consideration at his words, although the growing smile on your face already betrayed you, and the gleam in your eyes tells Jungwon that your response would be something unexpected once more.

“An ice cream date when we slay the presentation?”

“Sure.” He smiles cheekily. “Ice cream it is.”

“Okay. Friends.”

𓇗 niki - take a chance with me 𓇗

With the strenuous weeks came dozens of works in your other classes as well, and you had to postpone your little meetings for a while to focus on these tasks. Sometimes you would talk to Jungwon on the phone, but oddly enough, it didn’t really suffice compared to time spent in-person, with the new bond that has formed between the two of you.

Jungwon proposed to set a time during weekends to work on the remaining project and maybe even study at each other’s houses, with an underlying innocent intention to spend more time with you. Unbeknownst to him, you were just as happy to have both of it—studying and spending time with the boy you’ve now grown fond of.

Except for one problem: you had a cat in your home. And ironically, the feline-eyed boy was allergic to cats.

Jungwon assured you that his allergy wasn’t that bad, and he could last a few hours at your residence. You didn’t want to cave in at first, your concern overriding the want to spend time with him outside of school, even if it was still for your studies.

But being the good communicator that he is, Jungwon managed to convince you that it will be perfectly fine, and that you wouldn’t have to worry about “being the culprit when he dies”, as you had initially argued.

You agreed on one condition—that he bring an EpiPen with him just in case of an emergency, and he easily agreed, but not without giving his own condition: that your parents were completely on board with just the two of you at your home.

He practically swore to not having even the slightest bit of thought of doing anything harmful to or with you, but he wanted to be sure that your parents were aware and looked out for your safety.

The condition was unexpected, you thought, but deep inside, you appreciated how he seemed to be genuinely concerned about the matter. So you reassured him that it was fine, and even gave your parents some basic information about Jungwon, if anything does happen, which you knew there wouldn’t be.

And so you woke up early that Saturday morning, something that you rarely did, just to clean your house and prepare some foods, as well as things to keep Chloe occupied while you worked at the living room.

Jungwon arrived a little earlier than you were expecting, and he clarifies right away that he just didn’t want to be late, although the truth is that he was too eager to see you.

Sensing a visitor in the house, Chloe gets out of your room and makes her way downstairs, cautiously approaching as she assesses the boy standing close to you. Jungwon coos right away upon seeing her, but he wasn’t exactly a stranger to cats, and so he crouches down and extends his hand to her, letting her sniff him before he does anything.

Chloe swats her paw at his shoes and takes a few moments to take his presence in before she turns to you with an approving “meow”, then she nuzzles Jungwon’s hand as if asking to be petted. He takes the cue and in an instant, they were now nuzzling each other’s faces. You could even hear Jungwon giggling softly.

You smile in relief at seeing the two liking each other, almost forgetting about Jungwon’s allergy with how comfortable they looked. But as you stared longer and kept a close look at your spot, your smile wavered upon falling on a little observation.

Why does...why does Chloe almost resemble Yang Jungwon?!

For a moment, you stood there frozen, quite rattled by the thought that suddenly took over your mind. Y/N, are you insane? Why would you think that?

Bewildered by your own words, you clear your throat and pretend to be busy with arranging the foods and materials on the table. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s get to work.”

“Aww,” Jungwon whines disappointedly and pleads at you with his eyes, “but we’re still playing. Look, she loves me.”

As much as you loved seeing the two have fun, you needed to get started and you might not be sure just how long Jungwon and Chloe would end up playing, and there’s still the lingering worry about his mild allergy. You shake your head in response and turn your laptop on without sparing another glance at them as you listed off your excuses.

He eventually sighs in defeat and gives one last pet to the cat. “Alright, baby. We should listen to your mom. Go on.”

You nearly choke on your spit at hearing Jungwon baby talk with Chloe, throwing a look of feigned disgust at his direction that Jungwon only laughs at before calling out and instructing your child to get back to your room, although it took some bribing of treats before she finally obeyed you.

Jungwon then settles beside you on the sofa and you two share a light-hearted conversation before actually getting to work, surrounded by a peaceful atmosphere. Every now and then, Chloe would come down to play with you and Jungwon, and your worried sighs would only be met with a laugh from the boy.

You would always send him a lackluster glare for how he’s seemingly making fun of your reactions, but Jungwon simply finds amusement and even a hint of affection at how concerned you were about him.

After a few hours of working, you both decide to take a well-deserved break, stretching your limbs and talking about something else other than school, with Chloe sitting between the two of you as you had already given up on sending her away, much to Jungwon’s contentment.

Suddenly, you hear the gates open and the faint sound of familiar voices in the distance, your conversation coming to a pause as you both looked at the door. Not long after, it pushed open with faces that you weren’t expecting to see today, or at least not this early.

“Mom! Dad!” You immediately stand up and approach them, Jungwon quickly doing the same, though he stands just beside the sofa as he watches you hug your parents.

“You’re home,” You confusedly say, but the pleased expression on your face was enough to tell your parents that you were just as happy as them.

“Your Dad and I managed to convince our bosses to leave early today. It’s a weekend, for goodness’ sake!” They head for the dining area carrying some bags as your mother went on, her lively voice booming throughout the household.

“Have you eaten already? We bought a lot of foods! I got your favorites, we have a blueberry cheesecake and orange chicken here—oh is that your friend? Jungwon?” She pauses in her tracks and you follow her gaze, seeing Jungwon giving her a bow with his lips stretching into a slight curve.

She kindly returns his smile and gestures him to follow the three of you into the dining area where your father was already arranging the foods on the table. “Come here, sweetheart!”

Chloe quickly follows behind Jungwon as he shyly walks to go beside you and greets your parents politely. While your mother continues with her little rant, you tell Jungwon to just serve himself some food while you went to the kitchen to get some ice cubes for the drinks.

You feel a little sorry for leaving him behind as you hear your parents immediately bombard him with questions even though they were just trying to make him feel comfortable, but you did promise him that you wouldn’t take long.

Little did you know, Jungwon had decided to take up the opportunity and sneak his own agenda into the casual conversation.

“You know, Ma’am, you have a really amazing daughter. She’s one of the best students in our school, both with her kindness and intelligence.”

You went still for a moment as you hear the words leave Jungwon’s mouth, his voice a little unclear due to the distance and the clinking of tableware, but you could still make out most of the conversation.

“Oh, I know how amazing she is,” Your mother replies with a soft laugh. “And I’m glad other people sees that too. She’s well-loved at your school, isn’t she?”

Jungwon hums in response. “Very much so. Everyone likes her. I do too. I-I mean like as a student, of course. We work really well together in our academics.”

You couldn’t resist from laughing a little at Jungwon’s hurried explanation of himself, your memories flashing back to your old arguments as he mentions how good you work together when it comes to your studies.

“Is that so? Wait, did we disturb your work? I almost forgot that you’re here because of a project. How is it going?”

“Oh, not at all, Ma’am. We were actually just taking a break when you arrived. The food’s good, by the way.”

“Just eat up then,” Your father chimes in. “You kids need to get energized for your studies. They make all the kids work so hard these days! Too many homeworks and projects, no time for resting or playing!”

You hear your mother laugh wholeheartedly at your father’s rant and she speaks again, her voice shifting to a softer one. You almost couldn’t hear it at first but as you strained your ears, the words that left her mouth next made you completely still.

“They really do make you work so vigorously, don’t they? That’s why we’re so proud of Y/N. Always striving to be the best. She’s already great. Sometimes, I worry that she pushes herself too much and ends up hurting.”

You immediately feel tears brim in your eyes, a slight ache growing in your heart as you tried to ignore how you felt and focused on getting the ice cubes out instead, though it didn’t help at all when your father spoke next.

“I agree, my love. She’s too hard on herself, I’ve noticed. I hope she sees how we all see her. Not just in her studies, I mean. But as a good person, a good friend, and a good kid. Everyone sees it. I don’t believe anyone would hate our daughter. It’s why you like her, eh, Yang Jungwon?”

Your father’s teasing comment puts you out of a threatening breakdown, and you silently laugh the tears away before finally walking out of the kitchen, hearing Jungwon’s quick and defensive replies.

The following hour was filled with a light-hearted conversation as you enjoyed the food, although occasional teasing comments were sent your way whenever your parents would imply that something was going on between you and Jungwon.

But soon enough, Jungwon surprisingly excuses himself, thanking your parents for the food and their time and that he would be taking his leave now. You immediately look over to Jungwon and tried to conceal the confusion and slight panic you were feeling at his unexpectedness.

Even your parents were surprised at first and felt reluctant of letting him leave, worrying if something urgent came up or they had unintentionally made him uncomfortable. But Jungwon quickly reassured them that everything was fine and that you had already finished a part of your project anyway.

“I suppose we’ve kept you long enough, sweetheart.” Your mother starts to pack some of the food for Jungwon while you just stood there, unsure how to approach him without sounding disappointed, even though you also felt happy at the chance of spending the rest of the day with your family.

Jungwon seems to notice your nervousness right away and softly chuckles as he stands up from his seat, facing you and lowers his voice so that only the two of you could hear.

“Don’t worry, Bluebell. Nothing’s wrong. I just thought it’d be nice if you could spend some time with them instead of studying with me.”

He glanced at your mother who was securely closing a lunch box before turning back to you. “We can do the project some other time. We have nothing to rush for, we’re smart. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

You share a laugh at his remark, and it helps relieve the confusion you were feeling earlier, thinking that you might’ve done something wrong to make him uncomfortable.

“Yeah, whatever.” You shake your head with an amused sigh, miserably failing to not smile at him. “But thanks for being considerate. I really appreciate it.”

He returns your smile with a kind one, and you miss the way your parents look at the both of you and exchanging knowing glances. “No need to thank me. It’s what you need.”

Your mother clears her throat and you both break away from the eye contact, awkwardly looking everywhere. Jungwon politely receives the lunchbox and bids his farewell to your parents, and you quickly declare to send him off, much to their surprise. But they smile anyway and motion you to go along and wishes him a safe trip home.

As you made it out of the door, you noticed how the both of you walked slowly towards the gate as if you wanted the moment to last a little longer, even though you would eventually have to part ways.

When you finally stopped by the gate, you stood there silently for a moment, unsure exactly what to say or waiting for the other to speak up first. So you think it might be alright to tell him what had happened to you earlier.

“Jungwon.” Hearing the softness in your voice, he immediately meets your gaze. “I...I heard what you told my parents earlier. A-and what they said too.”

His eyes widen by a fraction and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but no words come out. He suddenly feels like he’s put on the spot and he wonders if you took offense to it.

“I um...” You laugh nervously and scratch your nape. “I almost cried earlier, actually.”

Now his heart began to race and he steps forward, trying to not let panic seep into his tone as he finally finds his voice.

“I-I’m sorry, I just thought it would be helpful to—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t apologize.”

A brief silence envelopes the two of you before you decide to speak again, wanting to reassure him and be honest of what you truly felt.

“It’s fine. I was...I’m actually happy.”

You almost tear up as you remember how you felt while overhearing their conversation, but happiness and relief overpowered the feelings you’ve been suppressing to acknowledge for so long.

“Honestly, I...I’ve always wanted to hear that from them. I guess, I just never had the courage to ask myself.” You begin to fidget with the hem of your shirt, unsure how to phrase your words.

“It’s just, you know...very awkward, I think. And they might’ve been weirded out if I ask them that. I mean I know they wouldn’t be, it’s just...”

You trail off, heaving a deep sigh and running your hands down your face. Jungwon gives a reassuring pat to your shoulder as he also scrambles for a way to explain himself.

“No, no, it’s fine. I understand. I completely understand how you feel. I just...I thought it would be nice. Because...even if you hadn’t heard it, I simply wanted to let your parents know how lovely of a daughter they have.”

You slowly bring your hands down and listen intently to him, a wave of calmness washing over you at his sincerity.

“Well, I’m sure they already knew. But other people know as well. See how good you are at everything you do. Someone who’s very admirable. That’s what...I was hoping to relay to them.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away for a moment, stalling himself for a confession, the softness in his voice completely giving away the vulnerability he was allowing you to witness.

“The truth is, I kind of felt a connection between us when we found out that we basically have the same parents, even though the situation isn’t exactly ideal. And when I told you that maybe we could help each other’s families someday...”

He turns back to look at you with a subtle shift in his expression, “...I meant that. So when an opportunity presented itself, I grabbed it. We’re not who we used to be anymore, and I do care about you. This wasn’t anything big, if I may say, but I hope it helped, even by a little.”

Of course, you were past the whole rivalry thing with him now. And yet, something about his earnestness brings you a kind of comfort. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m sure they understood. Thank you.” A genuine smile bloomed on your lips at the feeling, but your first instinct was to quickly shift the almost solemn atmosphere. “It was so heartfelt that I would’ve cried a bucket if I didn’t stop myself.”

Jungwon’s eyes turn into wide saucers at your words, and he couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at how you played off your tears like it was nothing.

“Hey, that wasn’t my intention.” He shakes his head in amusement and lightly pokes your shoulder. “But I’m just glad that you’re happy.”

“Oh really,” You reply with a playful mocking voice, “I thought you might’ve wanted to see me ugly crying with a tear-streaked face?”

He puts a hand to his chest with an exaggerated sound of pain. “Oh, Y/N. Do you really think I’m that bad? I would’ve been there with a pile of tissues and an actual bucket for you, I promise.”

Laughter once erupts from the two of you, the tension fading away by the second and replaced with a light atmosphere. Once you finally calm down, you stare at each other for a few moments with a warm smile lingering on your faces, a sense of understanding and connection filling the air.

You clear your throat and start to open the gate, though the wide curve on your lips remained almost permanent at this point. “Yeah, um...thank you for today, Jungwon. Take care.”

He gives you a nod as he walks out of your house, but not without facing you one last time, the radiant warmth on his face carving in your brain.

“Thank you too, Y/N. Have fun. See you on Monday.”

You both wave at each other before he finally turns around and you close the gates. And as you walked back inside your house, looking forward to spending the rest of the day with your parents, anticipation rushed through your system as you were reminded of going to his house soon.

You could barely wait until next Saturday.

𓇗 chase atlantic - talk slow 𓇗

As it turns out, Jungwon was telling the truth. When it was your turn to visit his house next week, there was no one else in the household other than his grandma. Jungwon’s parents were both at work and his sister was at university, making it only the three of them—including Maeum.

You were lucky enough to arrive at his house just before a heavy rain poured from the dark skies, and you knew for sure that it would take some time before you could go home later.

But the atmosphere in the Yang residence was enough to warm you up in the meantime, despite his parents and sister not being there. With the picture frames, trinkets, scattered things, and simple decorations everywhere, the place had a cozy and welcoming ambiance to it and looked a bit more lively than your household.

Not to mention that Jungwon’s grandmother also treated you like her own despite only having met you for the first time. You felt at ease with her warm welcome, along with Maeum’s enthusiastic response at your arrival.

Albeit a little too enthusiastic, you thought. Chloe was as laid-back as Maeum is energetic. You couldn’t help but think that it seemed almost like a reflection of their owner’s personalities.

Jungwon on the other hand felt a little nervous at first as you arrived, wanting everything to be perfect before the two of you could settle down to work. He definitely did not spend at least an hour of cleaning and organizing his room even though there was barely anything to fix anyway.

At least one of his worries was taken away when 15 minutes had already passed and Maeum did not pee on the floor or do anything horrendous. It felt a bit ridiculous to think of but he knew just how chaotic his dog could get.

Though that relief didn’t last for long when his grandma kept on doting on you, and even mentioned how you were a lot prettier in person.

You were just about to ask what she meant when Jungwon suddenly grabbed the plate of kimbap and fruit slices that she prepared (Jungwon believes he helped too, although half of it was him asking her questions about love) before excusing the both of you from his grandma and practically dragged you upstairs to his room.

Once you made it inside, with Maeum following the both of you, Jungwon put down the plate on the coffee table and rounded the bed to get his laptop by his study desk.

“You can sit anywhere. I’ll just get my stuff.” You give him a nod and roam your eyes around his room, taking in every detail that reflected a part of him.

You could hear the rain getting heavier outside, every drop of the downpour blurring his windows. Jungwon reached for the AC remote, adjusting it to a warm temperature before turning to you. “Are you cold?”

You gave him a shrug as you sat down at the edge of his bed on the floor, picking up a slice of apple. “Just a little. But I’m fine.”

He hesitates for a moment but he eventually opens his dresser and pulls out one of his hoodies, your hand pausing mid-air as he hands the neatly folded clothing to you.

“Y-you can wear this,” He meekly says, looking at anywhere but you as he adds, “only if you want to. It might...help.”

You pop the fruit into your mouth before taking the hoodie. “Yeah, thank you.”

He mutters “you’re welcome” before settling down beside you, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest at how adorable you looked in his hoodie. He maintains a respectful distance between the two of you, thankful that you didn’t notice the rosy color from his ears down to his neck as you kept busy with your own things by the table.

He tries to act casually and picks up a fruit as well, hoping that a conversation would steer him away from his weird feelings. “So uh, where were we last time?”

The next few hours were filled with a productive yet comfortable atmosphere, the silence occasionally disrupted when someone has a question or asks for a comment, or when Maeum would join the two of you. From time to time, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Jungwon and take in his simple appearance.

It wasn’t like he doesn’t already have the clean, approachable, and friendly look at school—just that he appears even more casual right now. His bangs were falling over his eyes that he blows away whenever it pokes them, his lovely dimple appearing every now and then, cheeks puffing up as he stuffed his mouth with food or simply puckering his lips, brows furrowing in concentration as he worked on his laptop, and the light from its monitor casting a glow on his face.

A subtle smile would touch your lips everytime at the sight. This wasn’t the genius and student council president Yang Jungwon right now. He was simply Jungwon. A boy who’s too good for this world and happens to be your friend.

What you didn’t know was that Jungwon was having an internal conflict by your side, unaware of the turmoil of emotions he was feeling as you worked in peace. He almost envied how undistracted you looked.

Despite staying focused on his own work, he was hyper-aware of your presence and every glance from you. Anytime that a part of your bodies would accidentally brush against each other, he feels like a jolt of electricity runs through him.

He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way. He was comfortable with you. In fact, he liked it very much that you were here, in his space. And yet, it made his heart flutter. He felt like he was working on autopilot, his mind half occupied with grappling the mixture of emotions you were making him feel.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as you gently tapped his arm, inquiring about a subtopic that you needed to understand in order to get through with one of your tasks.

Once you finally grasped the discussion, you turned back to your things and Jungwon went back to his, thinking that he’d be able to work with a more focused mind this time, not until he hears a comment from you.

“You’re really good at explaining things, you know. I’m glad it’s you that I’m working with.”

He laughs quietly, gaze falling down to his lap as he tries not to get too caught up with how your words affected him. “Thank you. You’re just a fast learner too, honestly.”

“Uh-huh,” You reply without looking, playfulness laced in your tone. “I guess that makes us good partners, doesn’t it?”

You both share a laugh and he shakes his head in amusement, seeing your eyes crinkle at the corners as you meet gazes. “I suppose we are.”

A bit more time passes before you two finally decide to end your work for the day, your bottoms already getting a little sore from sitting so long and your eyes strained from staring at your laptop’s monitors.

However, the rain didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon and Jungwon was wary to send you home alone in such gloomy weather, so he offered you to stay for dinner and watch a movie after, quickly informing your parents that you’d be home a little late.

And as you moved around the house for the following hours, Jungwon found himself sinking into an almost domestic feeling at the casual intimacy you both expressed, warmth spreading through his chest at the realization. He couldn’t help but think if he was the only one feeling a sense of curiosity and admiration between the two of you.

With the past weeks of studying together and the first visits you had at each other’s residence, he felt like something had now shifted again in your budding relationship. Maybe it wasn’t actually just the project that had brought the two of you together, but a woven tapestry of understanding and connection that he considered special.

He knew that it had only been a short time since the two of you managed to get close, and yet he felt like every moment spent with you was heading to a certain path, and he wanted to see where this goes, where it could be the start of something deeper and real.

enhypen - your eyes only 𓇗 royalty

“Y/N, he gave you food and his hoodie, then you gave him back some food, and you two are basically attached to the hip now—how could we not think that?”

Right. Days after you went to Jungwon’s house, you washed his hoodie before giving it back to him, but he insisted for you to keep it, with the excuse that you looked adorable nice in his the item of clothing.

The next day, he gave you a food container filled with kimbap, claiming that it’s because you said you liked his grandmother’s, so he tried to make them for you.

You didn’t want to give back an empty container, so you decided to make him some food as well, sharing half of the prepared portions to your friends that they were currently munching on.

“Now that we’re at it, everybody actually thinks the same. I’ve heard other students say that you two must be dating. Even Miss Kang asked me the other day.”

You laugh at Rei’s words and casually shrug. “Can’t we just be good friends? We’ve gotten really close to each other, nothing more than that.”

“Sure, you’ve gotten a lot closer now.” Liz animatedly motions, her eyes widening as she emphasizes her words. “But it’s not just close, it’s like a different type of close!”

“How is it different?” You ask as you take another bite of your food and almost accusingly point the fork to the both of them. “This better not be because he’s a boy and I’m a girl, because I’m friends with Sunoo and Riki too—”

“Of course it’s not that, Y/N,” Rei quickly interrupts you. “We’re mature enough to know that. But you could be honest with us, you know? We tease you all the time but if you do like Yang Jungwon, what’s the problem in admitting that? It would actually make us happy for you.”

“—and tease you even more,” Liz adds, and Rei lightly scolds her for it because they were supposed to make you fess up.

You laugh as they start to bicker with each other, but your thoughts slowly drift off into a daydream, recalling all that has transpired for the past few months that led to the predicament you now found yourself in.

When you submitted the papers for your second project, you and Jungwon weren’t able to celebrate alone because it happened to coincide with your birthday, and you planned to go out with your whole friend group followed by a family hang out at night.

So when you all went to an arcade that day, Jungwon pulled you aside to give you a matching bracelet that he bought just for the two of you—a “seal” of your new-found friendship, as he declared.

And your friendship had only continued to blossom since then, with even the littlest things feeling special to your heart. Handwritten notes inside and outside of class were shared, with Jungwon often drawing cat doodles on the bottom.

You began to hold hands and link arms as if it was second nature, playing with each other’s hair, leaning on his or your shoulder for no reason at all, sharing an earphone whenever you studied together as you listened to one another’s playlists (and even forming your own shared one).

Jungwon would often remember little things about you, as you did with him, met with knowing and teasing glances from your friends whenever they witnessed it happening.

He would bring some food for the two of you when you’re studying together, and at one point he had started to buy food for everyone as well so as to end Riki’s playful sulking about Jungwon’s special treatment for you.

Sometimes you would catch yourself smiling at Jungwon simply because you find him too endearing even when he’s doing nothing, mentally slapping yourself when you realize how idiotic you might’ve seemed and quickly looking around if anyone saw your moment of weakness.

Jungwon was a gentleman, sure, it was a given. He would open doors for you, save you a seat, help you carry stuff, listen attentively to everything you say, offer to help despite not asking him to or you insist that you can do it by your own, and he even follows the sidewalk rule despite you always joking that you’d both be hurt when a vehicle does crash to the side.

He was just kind in general, and he was the same to everyone, you knew it. You’ve heard of it. You saw it. And yet, it never failed to make your heart flutter or send butterflies to your stomach, much to your perplexity. Why in the world were you feeling it?

You weren’t that dense to not know what could possibly be happening. A simmering attraction seemed to bloom beneath the surface of every interaction between the two of you, although a part of you had convinced yourself that maybe Jungwon wasn’t even feeling anything.

Your friends however, held a different opinion. They agreed among themselves that you two were just being oblivious. It was evident with the way you stole glances at each other from time to time, thinking that the other wouldn’t notice.

While you internally melted in embarrassment whenever you caught yourself smiling at him, Jungwon wasn’t doing any better. More often than not, he would feel the weight of your gaze, making his heart skip a beat every single time, pretending that he didn’t notice your lingering stare.

He would especially feel it when he wears glasses, where you’re almost unable to tear your gaze away from him if it weren’t for the fact that you feel embarrassed at the thought of being caught. You were almost convinced that Jungwon wears it on purpose just so you would look at him more often than usual, and oh it was so true.

It was during another breezy afternoon when it all came crashing down on you. There wasn’t anything special happening, just you and Jungwon sitting at a gazebo (that you used to fight over), talking about a jigsaw puzzle of a cat that he has finally completed in weeks, then he goes on about the history of jigsaw puzzles that he has learnt days ago.

The sight briefly reminded you of the day that he likened you to bluebells, and you came to remember something. You had eventually discovered since then what the flowers meant, aside from what Jungwon had mentioned as humility and modesty. Constancy. Faithfulness. Hope. Gratitude. Wishes. Dreams. Everlasting love.

It made you wonder how Jungwon could relate such things to you when on the other hand, you thought that it was him who suited those things instead. Jungwon was everything that a bluebell represented, at least to you.

But Jungwon wasn’t one to lie, so could that have meant that its essence reflected the two of you? Like...like two peas in a pod. God. For the umpteenth time, Rei was right. She always was.

You were brought back to reality when Rei and Liz’s bickering gets a little louder, their passionate argument piercing through your cloud of reverie.

“—you? Why would she follow your advice?”

“Hey, I’m always right! I literally convinced her to make friends with—”

“That wasn’t you, it was her effort. And what if we’re wrong? What if we’re really pushing her? Maybe she doesn’t like Jungwon that way?”

“Nah, I know it. I memorized the pattern of boys that she likes. Jungwon is definitely her type, there’s no doubt.”

“No doubt? You’ve said that to me when I asked you about number 21 in Philosophy—and it was Socrates, not Plato!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their usual banter, shoulders shaking with mirth and eyes almost closing in amusement. However, your laughter dies down when Liz suddenly turns to your direction with a surprised look on her face, slightly narrowing her eyes at you as if she realized something.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you know that you just...kind of laughed like Yang Jungwon right now?”

Rei’s eyes widen and she immediately nods in agreement at Liz’s observation, while you were left staring at them confusedly.

“...what?”

“What I said!” Liz gestures to you with wide eyes. “You sounded and looked like Yang Jungwon when you laughed! You know? That thing when he—”

“You’re tripping.” You vehemently shake your head but Liz doesn’t give up and explains further. “I’m not! I’m telling you, do you know when he laughs then his eyes close so hard and, and his laughter sounds so hearty and, ugh—”

She claps her hand frustratedly and points to you. “I’m sure you get what I mean! But really, it’s like Jungwon was here for a second! Wow, you’ve both really gotten closer, haven’t you?”

You slowly nod in response, still feeling confused by what she had previously pointed out.

“Well, back to what I was saying,” Rei redirects, “you can tell us Y/N. Are you really sure that you don’t like Yang Jungwon? Not even...a tiny, tiny crush?”

You snort and quickly shake your head. “Of course I am.”

As you idly leaned back in your seat and took a sip of your drink, a strange feeling gnawed at a part of your mind, the thought of possibly lying not only to your friends but also to yourself making your stomach churn slightly.

Rei quirks an eyebrow, completely not believing you. “Really?”

Your brows knit together. “Yeah, really. I’m...we’re just good friends. And I mean really, really good friends. I know it was stupid of me to have misinterpreted him years ago and now I can see how we click so well together, so that’s why we are what we are.”

You take a brief pause to ponder your next words, relieved that they both seemed to start taking you seriously now. “I know we both seem like more than friends, but really—we’re just very comfortable with each other.”

Just then, your voice starts to trail off as if you were muttering to yourself, and their convinced looks disappear just as quick as it had appeared. “We’re friends...friends. So there’s no way that what you’re saying is true. Me, liking him? That’s...no.”

Rei and Liz quickly exchange glances and you momentarily get lost in your thoughts again, almost obliviously speaking and your voice coming out quieter than you had intended to.

“Besides... do you remember Minjeong sunbaenim? She’s really pretty and kind. And smart too. They used to work together at the book club before she graduated.” You begin to fiddle with the straw, your eyes following the movement of your finger.

“I...I heard rumors back then that he liked her. So that...that means Jungwon likes girls older than him.”

Liz seemed to have processed your words a bit slowly as she spoke, unaware of how Rei already had her jaw dropped upon realizing your implication.

“Well, that was only what it was though, a rumor. It’s not an evidence to Jungwon’s preferences. And they said nothing actually happened between— wait.”

Shock dawns on her face and Rei mirrored it even further with a sound of disbelief, their reactions making you puzzled—much to their frustration. The next thing you know, Liz was shaking you ardently, now laughing her heart out.

“Y/N, you do like him! You like him!”

“What?” You laugh along confusedly, while Rei shushes Liz as she looks around the cafeteria, thankful that nobody seemed to bother enough to pay attention.

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” Liz gushed.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Rei chimes in. “You do have an older vibe sometimes.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I mean the kind of vibe that would make Jungwon sing noona neomu yeppeo—”

You facepalm. “Oh, cut it out.”

“And hey, whether he did like her or not, it’s you who’s with Jungwon now.” Liz chirps with a radiant smile, “I’m sure he likes you too!”

“Yeah, whatever. I didn’t say anything.”

After defending yourself by saying that you hadn’t confirmed or denied their assumptions, you instantly shifted the topic to the preparation for your upcoming finals, with them occasionally sneaking in teasing comments about you and Jungwon.

And though you tried your best to ignore everything, it felt like a whisper at the back of your mind that constantly nagged at you. Crushing on Yang Jungwon? Definitely not.

Sure, he’s a good friend and everything you’d probably like in a guy but...okay well...

...could it really be?

Sometime later that week, nearly the same thing happened when the boys were walking to their lockers, with Jungwon and Sunoo discussing something from class while Riki’s attention just flitted between them.

“I disagree. You can’t just see the world in black and white. Two things can be true at the same time. Because if you think about it, the case should’ve been...”

Sunoo was about to interject when a quizzical look fell upon his face, Riki noticing right away and asking what had happened.

“I feel like I had heard that line somewhere before...” He mutters as his eyes narrow at Jungwon, but the words go past his hearing as he only continues to explain and prove his point, not noticing his friends’ looks. Then finally, Sunoo remembers.

“Why did you sound like Y/N just right now?”

“Ohh,” Riki gapes and turns to Sunoo. “The ‘black and white’ thing? And the ‘two things can be true at the same time’, am I right?”

Jungwon’s little speech comes to a halt, and for a moment, all he could think about was your calm yet passionate voice when it comes to intellectual or philosophical discussions. He doesn’t even know why.

Sunoo’s face becomes a blend of disgust and being dumbfounded at his reaction, which makes Riki burst out laughing, and it’s only when Jungwon is jarred back to reality.

“Well, I— it’s just something she uses a lot,” He calmly says. “I must’ve picked up on it.”

“Uh-huh, and come to think of it,” Riki chimes in, “you now talk more softly with Y/N since you became closer with her. It’s almost like you’re trying to match her.”

“But I’ve been doing that since forever,” Jungwon’s brows furrows, “and I’ve always been soft spoken...?”

“Yeah but like, it’s gotten even more gentle now.”

“Really?”

“Because you’ve got a crush on her.”

“Wha—” Jungwon’s ears began to flush with a vibrant, fiery red. “I-I don’t have a crush on Y/N! Is it so bad now that I’ve picked up on her vocabulary? We all do that to each other as well and we’re friends, and me and Y/N are good friends—”

Sunoo stares blankly with pursed lips, his eyes holding an undercurrent of supressed amusement at Jungwon’s fumbling while Riki snickers beside him.

“I swear, I don’t like her like that. Absolutely not.”

“Jungwon, we’ve seen this movie before,” Sunoo flatly says. “It’s called ‘lying to myself that I don’t have a crush on my friend’, that’s what it is.”

Jungwon turned his head away with his nose held high, unwilling to accept even a single word from his friend. “I am not lying. I am a hundred percent honest. Cross my heart.”

“And your apple-red cheeks are definitely being honest right now too. It’s pretty cute,” Sunoo replies, his voice dripping with mockery.

“C-cute? I’m not—” Jungwon touches his face and immediately feels the heat that has crept up on it. The next moment, his hand goes to give a playful swat to Sunoo that he swiftly dodges.

And a cat chased a fox down the halls that afternoon, leaving their duck friend behind, entertained by the whole exchange.

Though beneath all the teasing from your friends, you two couldn’t help but actually ponder the possibility inside. You’ve half-succesfully convinced yourself that you’ve just really found a special kind of friendship with him. Jungwon thinks that he had just become too attached to you with how often you worked together, but it couldn’t have meant anything.

The whole thing seemed almost comical to your friends. How in denial you both were of your own feelings and oblivious to each other. You and Jungwon were both caught up in your own heads, missing the signs of brewing romance between the two of you. Denying, deflecting, rationalizing—it was a pattern that they watched with a mixture of amusement and concern.

They could only hope that with time, you two would eventually figure it out by yourselves and see the light, facing the inevitable truth of your admiration.

stephen sanchez, em beihold - until i found you 𓇗 jungkook - still with you

With the whirlwind of activities in your graduating year, it became a bit difficult to keep track of all the things that were happening around you. One of them being the school dance, which you weren’t even able to remember if it wasn’t for Jungwon asking if you were going to attend.

You opted for a simple but elegant looking dress of blue color—one of Jungwon’s favorite, something that you had already grown to love. You and Liz had a sleepover at Rei’s house the night before the dance, and the three of you were still at her place as you prepared for the event.

The venue was just as stunning as you had imagined, and so were Riki and Sunoo who you had arranged to meet at a certain spot outside the auditorium, albeit it took about ten minutes of the five of you running in circles while looking for each other.

They immediately informed you that Jungwon was still occupied with his president tasks at the moment, and that it would take him some time before he gets to hang out with the rest of you. Although disappointed, you completely understood the responsibilities that he was tied to and decided to just enjoy in the meantime.

But it didn’t really take long for you and Jungwon to see each other (though from a distance). With his insanely good looks and commanding aura that screamed authority, especially as he explored almost every area of the venue to check up on things, it wasn’t that hard to find him.

He wore a navy blue suit, with a waistcoat underneath that hugged his figure. His hair was swept back and parted to one side, with his bangs falling just above his eyes and revealed more of his forehead than his usual style. You couldn’t help but halt in your tracks to admire him, and that’s when Jungwon also turned his head to your direction.

He felt as if everything else had faded into a blur when he saw you in the dress, waving enthusiastically at him with a beaming smile. A tender smile touched his lips while he waved back at you, his heart swelling with warmth when you returned the gesture by raising up your fist, encouraging him from afar as you mouthed “Fighting!”

Jungwon would catch up with your group whenever he had the time and made sure to take as many photos with all of you as much as he could. You didn’t even know how Jungwon managed to balance his time, but you supposed it was just really the way he was built. Though, you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

But you knew that Jungwon wouldn’t like you being hung up on his struggles, especially when it was expected of his position already. And so you ate, danced, walked around, and laughed your hearts out with each other for hours, making sure to also check up on Jungwon and give him a refreshment from time to time.

After some dancing, you all decided to go back to your table to take a rest. Riki and Sunoo were bickering about the food that one of them spilled by the buffet table, while Liz and Rei fills up their storage with a hundred pictures since the night begun.

You weren’t sure what exactly you were expecting to happen tonight, so as you sat down quietly and drank water to refresh yourself, you mindlessly roamed your eyes around the venue before looking down at your lap.

You thought back to how your friends indulged in their humor whenever a slow or mellow music would play on the speakers, meant for romantic dancing. You couldn’t help but laugh everytime they cracked a joke whether it was about the couples or dramatically complaining about their single lives, and it brought a smile to your face again.

Suddenly, you hear the others intensely whispering to themselves as if something gossip-worthy has happened, but you were too occupied by your own thoughts to even pay any attention to what they were saying.

That was until you heard a familiar voice speak up, a sweet and gentle melody in your ears that shined through among the noises that surrounded you everywhere.

“Y/N.”

You look up to see Jungwon standing just a few steps away from you with an expectant smile on his face, one arm placed behind him while the other was extended towards you, reaching his hand out.

You immediately get a sense of what might be happening, though you quickly brush it off. It’s just impossible. However, your internal efforts are deemed futile with the words that come out of his mouth.

“May I have this dance?”

The other four beside you all make exhilarated sounds, keeping their reactions to a minimum as they waited for your response. It was so sudden that you found yourself speechless because among all the things you have expected to happen tonight, none of it was this.

And yet here you were, feeling like your heart was about to jump out of your chest as you smiled at Jungwon, taking his hand and getting up to your feet.

You were just about to ask him why he had decided to dance with you, when he slowly leaned down with his eyes closed, gingerly bringing the back of your hand to press lightly against his lips. Soft, delicate, and warm lips.

You hear Rei and Liz’s muffled squeals, playfully hitting each other. Riki just let out the loudest gasp you’ve ever heard from him, and Sunoo probably had his jaw dropped.

You couldn’t even blame them. Because above all the sounds that surrounded you at that moment, you could practically hear the pounding of your heart in your ears now, and it was all because this boy just kissed your hand like you were the most precious thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

But seriously, where did Yang Jungwon got the courage to pull such a gesture?!

You couldn’t think straight anymore. And if you weren’t stunned yet, you were definitely by the next moment—when Jungwon looks up to meet your eyes, a hint of fondness in his gaze while his lips were still softly pressed against your skin.

Why was your heart fluttering? And why was there a weird sensation in your stomach? Is that what they call ‘butterflies’?

Before you could even fully register the thoughts running through your mind, Jungwon finally straightens with a warm smile and held your hand firmly, leading the both of you to the dance floor.

You didn’t even know how you managed to walk properly when your mind was still in a daze at the scene before you, and you were thankful that he was holding on to you the whole time, the very reason why you were able to make it there without tripping.

At this point, you slowly come to accept that maybe Jungwon’s just going to be the one who leads everything tonight with how shocked you still are. But as you two found a spot to settle in and get into position—fingers laced together, your free hand on his shoulder while his other hand is on your waist—Jungwon begins to waver.

He couldn’t look you in the eye, and you could feel the slight tremble of his hand in yours. And it wasn’t like you were doing any better. The unfading flush on your cheeks, and hands that were even shakier than his was enough to tell what you were feeling.

But his sudden shift in demeanor and the stiffly way you were moving from side to side brings you at a loss of words, and you think—you’re both too awkward to dance.

The realization pushes out laughter to bubble up from you, and he finally looks up to meet your eyes, a nervous chuckle of his own ringing in your ears. Hearing each other laugh with glee just makes the two of you get a bit louder, shoulders shaking with mirth and eyes fluttering shut in pure joy.

Anyone who was watching (a certain group of friends were) would’ve thought it was a fluffy, romantic moment, when the truth is that you were just two nervous idiots teenagers who went for a dance.

After a minute or so, your laughter dies down, though your faces were still graced with wide smiles, cheeks slightly hurting from it all. Jungwon sighs softly and attempts to rock your bodies back and forth in a gentle manner to actually begin to dance.

“Ah, we’re a bit awkward tonight, don’t you think?”

“Says the guy who just kissed my hand?”

You both break out into laughter again as you tease him for his gesture earlier, shaking your head in disbelief. “Did you get a surge of bravery or something?”

Jungwon playfully shrugs, a gleam dancing in his eyes as he speaks. “I don’t know. I just felt like doing it. A pretty lady deserves to be wooed like that.”

He pauses for a few moments as he searches for your eyes, a hint of something unreadable flickering in his own for a moment. “And you look really beautiful tonight. You always are.”

You instinctively conceal your emotions at the way his words and his gaze makes you feel, but Jungwon could faintly see the rosy color on your face betraying you, even under the luminescent mixed hues of the party lights.

“Thank you, really. You look dashing too, as always.” His lips curve into a lopsided grin, unable to deny to himself how your compliment made his heart flutter and feeling a bit of satisfaction for seeing his effect on you.

“This is...” He looks over to where your hands are intertwined and slightly loosens his grip on your waist. “This is fine, right? Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

You laugh lightly and shake your head. “Yes, it’s fine, Jungwon. Thank you. And I really appreciate the concern but it’s a dance. Of course this is how it’s supposed to be.”

“Right,” He laughs as well and nods, his nerves gradually slipping as you both get comfortable with the position, naturally adjusting with the steps and moving closer together. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Silence envelopes the two of you for a while, only the music shifting to a slower, more romantic tempo and the chatter of other pairs dancing could be heard. And your fits of silent giggles in between that lightened the mood.

You’ve both acknowledged each other’s beauty outwardly before, so casually at that with the words carved into your minds now. And yet at this moment, something else seemingly sparks a new-found admiration from you two.

Under the blue and purple hues of the party lights bathing the dance floor, your faces seemed to take on an almost iridescent sheen, the lights casting an ethereal glow and softening your features.

It felt as if you were lost in the moment as your bodies moved in harmony and held each other’s gaze, the awkwardness now gone and replaced with a sense of fondness and connection that embraced the two of you.

You think to yourself that Jungwon has never been prettier in your eyes than in this moment. The lights just enhanced his beauty by tenfold, and you couldn’t help but seriously think that he was like Aphrodite’s son that came to life.

Meanwhile, he thinks to himself that he must be crazy for feeling so infatuated right now as he took in your beauty and how nice it felt to hold you so intimately. It’s just Y/N. The pretty, smart, and kind girl you’re now friends with after years of productive rivalry.

But his internal monologue seems to hit him right in the face as he comes to accept a realization that he had been avoiding for some time now. Jungwon tried to think of any other reason for the past few months at why he was feeling this way towards you.

Surely, he’s just delighted that the two of you finally settled in peace after so long, right? And he enjoys spending time with you...so much, that when you’re not there, he thinks of you. Misses you, even.

God, that sounded so weird. He felt like a silly lovestruck boy about the whole thing—and indeed he was. But the more he thought about these strange, although not unpleasant emotions, it felt like he was falling deeper into this maze that he had created himself.

Falling. That was it. Was he falling for you?

If it meant enjoying every moment you spent together, wanting to be affectionate and caring to you, missing your presence everytime, finding you the most beautiful person in the room even if you were surrounded with a myriad of artworks, and wanting to learn about, from, and with you—was this falling?

He liked you. More than he’d want to admit. And even if it didn’t make sense to him for now.

Maybe this was the right time to tell you how he feels. He didn’t even need an answer from you, despite the slight fear that lingered at the back of his mind that you’d start treating him differently after this.

“Y/N,” He softly calls out your name, his voice almost mixing in with the slow music.

You response with a hum and he gently guided your intertwined hand up to his shoulder, your hands now resting comfortably on both of his shoulders. His hands followed suit, palms now settling on your waist and drawing you just a little closer to him.

The gesture sends another wave of blush on your face and Jungwon couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, a flicker of amusement and affection in his eyes.

He clears his throat and holds you firmly, his gaze unwavering. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m really glad we’re friends now. I hope it doesn’t sound cheesy.”

You both laugh a little and he continues, “but I truly enjoy spending time with you. I’ve found you more likeable and admirable than I expected, and I don’t think I will ever get tired of you.”

He pauses for a few beats as he searches your eyes, as if to let the sincerity of his words sink in for a moment before he speaks again.

“If only I knew, I wish I took the initiative to explain myself back then. I couldn’t believe it took us this long to be close, but I’m glad it happened anyway.”

A smile graces your lips at his admission and he mirrors the warm expression on your face. “I can’t believe it either. But I suppose it’s better late than never, isn’t it?”

Another round of laughter bubbles up from the two of you and he nods, then you speak up again. “I feel the same. I’m really happy that we’re friends. I feel like we understand each other so well, in a way that no one else does.”

His face was illuminated with a radiant smile, reflecting the warmth blooming in his heart. But your words struck him harder than he was expecting, and for a moment, he feels a little selfish of wanting to ask you for a chance to be more than just friends.

His gaze darts across your features and he inhales deeply, bracing himself for the deeper part of his confession, pushing all his nervousness aside if it meant being honest with you about his feelings.

“Y/N, actually I—” Just as you leaned closer to hear his gentle voice, a shout erupts in the distance, breaking the intimate moment between the two of you.

“President!” You quickly recognize one of the council members and even some students turned their head around, curious as to what had gotten him panting and sprinting towards the boy in front of you.

Jungwon kept his hold on you as he faced the guy, trying to keep his frustration at bay. “What is it?”

The student’s gaze flits between the two of you and he flashes an apologetic smile as he speaks. “Look, I’m really sorry to interrupt,” he turns to Jungwon, his face shifting into a troubled and almost desperate look, “but we have a problem at the E7 area. We tried to organize the...”

Jungwon tried his best to pay attention to his words but they only seemed to fade from his hearing, his thoughts filled with worries of whether he’d still be able to spend some personal time with you tonight. He reluctantly pulls his hands away from your waist, quickly erasing the sulky pout that formed on his lips.

He knew he had duties to attend to as the student council president, and he couldn’t just ignore his responsibility even though he badly wanted to just run away with you.

Once the student was done talking, he sighs deeply and turns to you, a mixture of apology and yearning swimming in his eyes. Even without words, you could already sense how he feels and what he would probably tell you, “Y/N, I’m really sorry...”

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” You internally laughed at the words that came out of his mouth and gave him a kind smile instead. “I...I promise I’ll make it up to you. As soon as I can.”

You quickly nodded, trying to reassure him that it was no big deal even though you were just as disappointed. But before he could finally turn around, you spoke without thinking much of it.

“I can go with you, if you want.”

His brows arch up in surprise, and he couldn’t even hide the hopefulness he felt as he eagerly replied. “Really?”

“Yeah,” You nodded once more. “I’ll help you.” You gently slipped your hand into his, unaware of how his heart practically leaped with happiness as you gestured the council member to lead the way.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

The rest of the night was spent with you tagging along with Jungwon to help with his president duties, the council members recognizing you either as his friend or rival, while others unashamedly gossiped among themselves (or even directly asked you) that you were rumored to be dating.

It’s not like you minded whatever they thought, you were simply there to help. So you politely clarified every time, yet your heart skipped a beat at the thought of dating the president.

Jungwon on the other hand felt like he was about to combust whenever he was mistaken as your boyfriend, whether it was an implicit or explicit remark. God, how he wished it was true.

And although he was always quick to deny (much to his dismay) and reminded others to not get sidetracked, they all noticed the pinkish glow across his ears and face, betraying his attempt at nonchalance.

From time to time, you two were pulled by your friends on the dance floor for a few minutes (where Jungwon wishes it was just the two of you dancing instead), with Riki even getting into dance battles with other students and Sunoo making sure that everything was caught on camera.

Despite the interruption that had frustrated him through the roof, Jungwon was more than happy to have you by his side the entire night, always ready with a helping hand, engaging in light-hearted conversations, or simply reassure him that everything’s fine and he’s doing a good job.

Perhaps, what mattered was that you two were able to spend time with each other, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had envisioned for the night.

He’d go as far as to say that it might have been more enjoyable than just slow dancing with you, to walk around the venue and ensure that things were smooth sailing.

It was what led him to realize that maybe he should just let this go on for a little longer and see where it goes, before he finally confesses to you.

He was certain that he had a lot of time for it. After all, he was Yang Jungwon, a council and academic leader. Time management was something he had already grown accustomed to in order to be where he is now.

If it’s really meant to happen, then there would be no need to rush. As long as the two of you were comfortable in each other’s presence, growing and learning together—everything was alright. Time wouldn’t be a problem.

yeonjun - boyfriend 𓇗 wang jun qi - i like you so much you’ll know it

Jungwon thinks the universe must have decided to play a joke on him. He planned to wait for at least a few days after the dance to give you a proper confession, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and just the two of you somewhere private and romantic.

But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, and you both found yourself occupied with school works and preparations for graduating, leaving you with little to no time at all to share a personal moment again since the school dance. Or at least not in the way that he was expecting.

School breaks were mostly spent on studying and preparing for college applications, and on the few occasions that you found yourselves in the same place, whether your friends were there or not, things just didn’t work out.

Jungwon would often find himself second guessing his plans and eventually gives it up, afraid of jeopardizing the friendship that blossomed between the two of you.

During the rare moments when he finally builds up the courage to just spill his heart out, something absurd conveniently interrupts and breaks down his hopes to tell you how he feels.

Like that one time Riki scared you all to death when he choked on his bungeoppang, or maybe when Liz freaked out because some firecrackers went off nearby.

He often thinks back to the school dance, blaming it as the start of this curse against him. He could only accept the unfortunate circumstances that pops up everytime against his will, though he couldn’t help but think it must be fate’s way to protect him from a possible rejection.

He had even started writing a diary which were just mostly filled with thoughts about you. He knew he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it if he confides about the struggles of his romantic life to Riki and Sunoo.

One thing that he held on to was that he was certain there wasn’t anyone that you liked. That, at least assured him. But he felt a little guilty at being relieved of it.

He knows you deserve to be loved and taken care of, but he wanted to be the person to do that. And yet, how would that wish come to life when everything seems to stop him from getting his message across to you?

Maybe it just wasn’t meant to happen, he often thinks.

In reality, it wasn’t like the both of you had actually parted ways. If anything, the connection between the two of you only grew. It was with the seemingly mundane and casual tasks of your school life that your bond had deepened, unknowingly realizing that you were becoming more fond and comfortable with one another.

You would often study together, eat lunch anywhere, help each other with schoolwork, and even running errands. Classes and hallway encounters were filled with smiles, shared glances, ordinary questions, or a few playful jabs at one another.

On bus rides, you would often give up the window seat (which you both liked), much to Jungwon’s surprise and confusion. But truthfully, you didn’t mind if it was him. Sometimes, you would fall asleep on his shoulder, then he would drape his hoodie or jacket over your thighs to keep you warm.

Other times, it would be him that falls asleep on you in the library when he’s gotten too tired of studying and reviewing his council tasks, feeling the weight of his head on your shoulder as you kept busy with your own work.

You also had occasional bike (dates) rides by the river where your conversation would range from your dreams in the future to alien theories. Then you would sit together on a blanket laid on the grass while eating convenience store food, and even then, Jungwon couldn’t bring himself to finally do it.

Spending time with you and getting to know each other better mattered more to him than to break the moment just to confess his deepest feelings to you.

And whenever you didn’t have much time to meet inside or outside of school, you would check on one another over chat or phone calls, which had become a normal part of your routine. You were now a part of each other’s everyday lives.

It nagged at Jungwon whether you felt the same way that he did. He didn’t want to lose the friendship he had formed with you. It was special. But he wasn’t sure either if he could contain his feelings any longer.

Unbeknownst to him, you were having an internal crisis yourself. As you sat by your study desk one afternoon, you found yourself slumping against the table, the exhaustion from studies and your thoughts about the cat-eyed boy mixing together.

And speaking of cat...

“Meow.”

Chloe suddenly climbs onto your desk, walking all over the scattered papers before she settles on one spot. You place your arms on the table and rested your chin on it, the company of the feline creature offering a momentary distraction and relief from the whirlwind of emotions in you.

Just then, she whips her head around as you start to pet her, and there it was—the eyes that always reminded you of someone. You grunt and slam your forehead on the table. Why is he everywhere even when you’re trying not to think of him?

As you lift your head up again, the sight of Chloe brings you back to the day you met her. You visited a cat café with a friend, having no expectations at all, considering you weren’t really a cat person, and the thought of adopting one hasn’t even crossed your mind once.

However, as you were approached by the seal-point colored creature at one corner of the café, something stirred in you. Chloe was really cute. Maybe even the most adorable cat you’ve ever met in your whole life.

It’s like you were struck with such undeniable beauty, like that day you first saw Jungwon at the school festival. A ridiculous thought, but it was the closest you could compare the experience to.

You found yourself enjoying the day as you played with Chloe who seemed to be having fun in your company too. The staff had informed you that she was from a shelter and has only been at the café for a few weeks, but they haven’t seen her be so attached to someone like she was with you, especially within such a short amount of time.

As your visit drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel a slight heaviness to your heart at the thought of having to leave the cat behind. You knew it was well taken care of at the café, but a nagging feeling just gnawed at you like...you wanted to bring it home with you.

...home?

You almost couldn’t believe your own thoughts at first, but it truly didn’t feel right to not see Chloe again, or specifically to not have her with you.

Damn. Is this what they call the cat distribution system or whatever that running joke is?

Chloe seemed to have sensed your internal conflict, and as if to weigh on your mental debate even more, she clings to you for the remaining hour of your time.

That’s it. This cat just chose me. You made your decision right then and there. You were going to come back to this café and bring her home soon.

Soon was, well, a few weeks or so, with the meticulous process that the adopting took and doing your own part as well by preparing a space in the house for Chloe and everything that she was going to need.

It wasn’t actually that long, but it felt like forever to you. Though by the time she finally stepped foot into your home, it was all worth it. You were determined to treat this creature as your kin, and shower her with all the love and affection you could ever give.

Still, beyond all of the joys (and frustrations) of having a new member in the family, a small part of you questioned yourself: you didn’t even like cats, or any pet for that matter.

So why have you decided to take her in? She’s very cute and fluffy, and she needed to be taken care of. That’s it. You kept on convincing yourself that it was the only reason. Everybody gives in to their cuteness aggression once in a while, right?

But deep down, you knew that somehow, this cat reminded you of...the very person you claimed you used to dislike—Jungwon.

Of course, you liked Chloe just as she was. Not because she reminds you of the boy. But you could barely accept the thought that dawned on you ever since Jungwon first visited your house.

Her loveliness wasn’t just the prelude for you to take her home and treat her as your child. It was also because no matter how you looked at her, well especially into her eyes, it’s like you were seeing him.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you slowly sink into a moment of clarity. Sure, you didn’t know what love was yet, at least not romantically. But at that moment, it’s as if things fell into place.

You realized how happy you were with him, how everything feels easy and natural when he’s around, how you found yourself craving his presence all the time, admiring everything that there is to him, flaws and all, and wanting to take care of him—more than just a friend.

Jungwon was everywhere whether you liked it or not, even at times where you didn’t realize it. In your thoughts, your dreams, your diary entries, in every romantic song you’d listen to, and literally everywhere that you’d see the color blue and orange.

He was in the stars that lit up the night sky, the moon that illuminated the clouds in the vast darkness, and in the eyes of every cat that you’d see.

Maybe, no—there was no doubt to it anymore, you liked Yang Jungwon.

Your eyes land on the small calendar on your table and an idea pops into your mind. The school festival. With a new-found determination, you begin to clear up your things on the table to make some space for craft materials.

If you were going to confess to Jungwon, it had to be something proper but classic. A letter. You had lost count of just how many sheets of paper you had already used up by perfecting your handwriting and revising your message so many times, and even during dinner your mind was occupied with all of the things you wanted to tell him.

You poured your heart out into the letter, from every word written inside to the way it was folded and how it looked outside, everything had to be real good. After all, this wasn’t just any simple letter that you usually gave your friends.

It was a letter of confession to your former rival—a friend that you had grown to love more than you realized, and you had to let him know just how much you cared about him. Even when there’s a chance that he didn’t feel the same.

Or so you thought.

jimin - serendipity (full length) 𓇗 &team - firework 𓇗 zhang yi hao - forever star

Time, it seemed, had flown by and then it was February. Jungwon’s birth month. He had always looked forward to it, every day a step closer to graduation and to celebrate another year of his life.

But now, he couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of dread as the school year inched to a close, yet his feelings remained untold. He wasn’t even sure if you felt the same but regardless, he wanted to be honest with you about how he feels.

Truthfully, Jungwon didn’t even care anymore if it turns out you were going to different universities. He had already imagined all sorts of scenarios.

Travelling to your school, making time in between hectic schedules, late nights filled with talking over the phone, sending you flowers every now and then, making prep meals to keep at your dorm—he had it all visualized already. Sometimes he felt a little delusional at the thought, and his diary was a witness to all his near-Shakespearean complaints.

Then came the opportunity for confessing. The long-awaited school festival. Jungwon knows he might be stuck with his duties again, but it was also a good time to open his heart to you. A vibrant environment, a vast selection of foods and places to go to, countless things to experience, and a fireworks display at night? It couldn’t have been any better.

On the night before the festival, he was thankful that the preparations had drained him so much that he practically plopped onto his bed, or else he wouldn’t have gotten any sleep with how giddy he was feeling for the next day.

Before he fell into a deep slumber that evening, his eyes were set on the window where the frigid breeze of the snowfall seeped in through his windows that made him pull up the covers even more, a stark contrast to how he suffered under the heat of the sun earlier that day and soaked his handkerchief with sweat.

A subtle smile played on his lips as he finally closed his eyes, having only one thing in his mind—unlike the volatile weather that February, his feelings were now certain, and he was determined to tell you everything.

The following day, you could barely contain your anticipation for the festival, evident with how your group chat was already buzzing with endless messages in the morning. Excited must’ve been an understatement, especially when you arrived by the school gates and met the others.

The whole place was bustling with activities and lively chatter from the crowd, the colors, sounds, and aromas from everywhere all mixing in your senses and overwhelming you in a good way.

You prepared a bit more than usual and brought a point-and-shoot camera with you, determined to make the most out of your last school festival as a high schooler.

As it always happened with school events, Jungwon would briefly meet the five of you for a quick chat before he got pulled back to his president duties, with him now openly protesting at the tasks.

Although for most of the day, you were actually a complete team. Travelling from booths to stalls, various displays and games, and watching outstanding performances from fellow students.

Jungwon’s schedule wasn’t as hectic as usual, but every now and then, he would still have to excuse himself or begrudgingly be pulled aside to look over some events and ensure that everything was running smoothly. He would roll his eyes almost everytime, complaining as to why the council and other departments always needed him.

He just wanted to happily spend the whole day with his friends especially with you, uninterrupted. To hell with duties, he thought. He had never been frustrated of his position until he became friends with you.

But a small part of him had to admit that he liked it when you saw how diligent he was as the president. Your constant praise would make him feel a bit too proud inside, and he’d always try to hide the shy smile on his face. It somehow made up for his frustrations.

The longest he had been away was for an hour, near sunset, when he was asked to check on stage preparations for the performances later. Reluctantly, you had to move forward and leave him be, although Jungwon wished he could just stop everything and be with you.

You were all having too much fun that you had almost forgotten what you prepared for that day. It was only during nightfall when the first faint stars glimmered in the darkness and the air becoming cool and crisp that you had remembered it.

All the relaxation that you felt from idly walking around during sunset was now replaced with a rush of adrenaline again, the pressure of a time crunch falling with your anticipation and nerves.

You told your friends that you were just going to look for a certain someone and to call each other when needed, setting a specific spot for all of you to meet later.

They were all quick to agree as they already had plans in mind, and well, maybe because they knew who exactly you were going to find. It was a fast and unspoken conversation just with their shared glances that this might finally be a chance for the two of you.

So as they went off to the vast oval field, with Sunoo and Riki even bickering what area they should go to next, you headed off to nowhere, with literally no specific destination in mind as you just walked around the frustratingly massive school grounds, your heart skipping a beat every time you’d think that it was finally him that you saw.

But what was this mission of yours anyway? It was simple and so well-thought-out. You had the letter for Jungwon that you made about a week ago, tucked safely inside your jacket. You didn’t know until when you could keep on waiting to have an alone time with him, but you also had to do it when the day was coming to an end already, so you needed to find him now.

And what was the plan? Again, simple. Give the letter to Jungwon then run away, since you didn’t want to see how he would react. Yes, a really good plan. Because that’s what brave people do when they confess.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous at the whole thing. Your thoughts were racing a mile per minute and it didn’t seem like the surge of adrenaline in your system would go down anytime soon. You didn’t even know where you were going anymore. You just needed to find him, see him.

At the same time that you roamed through the crowd, Jungwon was also looking for you. He had a serious plan of his own, and he wasn’t going to have it fail this time. At around 4:30 in the afternoon, Jungwon went out of the school to pick up a bouquet of tulips and baby’s breath that he ordered a few days ago, frantically trying not to bump into any of his friends when he came back, especially you, lest the blooms in his hands would certainly be questioned.

So he left the flowers by his desk at the student council office, carefully hidden from anyone’s sight and any possible danger, that he will only retrieve when he finally has you somewhere private and undisturbed.

As he wove through the busy crowd, he went on a rundown of his plan. He would give you the bouquet, declare his heartfelt confession, and...well, wait for how you would react.

He could practically feel his senses on alert for any hint of you, his system now running on a mix of agitation and excitement, powered by the magic of a strawberry Yakult earlier that he hoped would calm his nerves.

Meanwhile just meters away, you stopped in your tracks to take a breather, your mind filled with worries and doubts for what could possibly happen next. The air felt charged with so much liveliness from the bustling crowd, the aroma of sweet cotton candies nearby doing very little to put you out of your current dilemma.

You stood there, looking like a lost child as your gaze travelled around for a few seconds before momentarily lowering your head, eyes cast down with a small frown. Maybe you should just give up on it. Maybe this was all a stupid idea. Confessing to your friend, really? To Yang Jungwon?

It was at that moment that Jungwon finally sees you amidst the sea of people, your motionless figure standing out from the tide of students flowing towards their destinations. He immediately feels a pang of worry and wonders why you’re alone, yet he couldn’t help but think if you were also looking for him.

You take a few deep breaths, deciding that consequences could come later, and all that matters now is to do this when you’re still running on a surge of adrenaline. You clench your hands, raising them to your shoulder level as you inwardly cheer yourself up, mouthing encouraging words.

The sight brings a faint smile to Jungwon’s face, just like it always has since you were in 8th grade. From the hallways, cafeteria, lockers, debate meetings—anywhere that he could see you at school, even when simply passing by your room.

He would look at you whenever he has the chance, with you being blissfully unaware of his lingering stares and almost lovesick smiles. He didn’t know back then why he was inexplicably drawn to you, even when you ardently debated with him.

But now he understands.

And as if the universe conspired at that moment, you looked around again with a determined gaze, until your eyes fell onto a set of bright boba eyes, staring right back at you.

The eye contact brings a soft smile to your faces, like it always did whenever you two would exchange a glance. Seeing him wearing his student council shirt making him a conspicuous presence in the crowd brings you back to the moment you first saw him at that booth in 8th grade, only that you two had now grown up in different ways, and had come to understand each other.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you walked towards one another, each step making your hearts pound even more in anticipation, the world seemingly fading into an animated backdrop as you met halfway.

Jungwon couldn’t stop the growing smile on his face as you both finally came to a halt, gacing each other, his radiant expression mirroring yours and the growing warmth in your hearts.

“Hi,” Jungwon breathes out, trying to relax his racing heartbeat. “Why are you alone? Where are the others?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Oh...” He smiles softly. “I was looking for you too.”

You laugh together, instantly falling into a light conversation and letting each other know what you did and had missed out on when you were apart.

Jungwon was just waiting for your little chat to end before he would ask you to go with him, whereas you were looking for the right opportunity to give him the letter and run.

So as soon as a brief pause took over your conversation, Jungwon mustered up the courage to finally ask you, feeling as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

“Y/N, can we—”

“Jungwon, there you are!”

What the...? You both turned to look at where the voice came from, and Jungwon internally groaned upon seeing a student who wore the same shirt as him.

He had desperately wished that it was nothing related to his duties, but that sliver of hope was shattered as soon as the council member spoke.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere! The kids from the music department was asking if you could—”

No. Jungwon couldn’t help but internally panic. Just when he finally got the chance, and now you’re slipping from his hands again?

No way.

He quickly made up his mind and grabbed your hand before you could even register what was happening.

“Sorry, I’ll meet you later!”

In the blink of an eye, you were now running away from the poor council member who was taken by surprise at the president’s actions, and you couldn’t help but shout a quick sorry too.

“Yang Jungwon, where are we going?!”

He laughs loudly. “I don’t know!”

One moment you were casually talking to him, and the next you let him drag you and run off to nowhere. Now you were both laughing your hearts out, the sound mixing with the sudden booms and whistles that echoed across the sky.

You two looked up to see fireworks erupting overhead, painting the velvet evening sky with streaks of vibrant colors, serving as an enticing feast for your eyes.

Each burst of the chromatic sparks was like a blooming flower, its petals going down into a rainfall of shooting stars. The night sky ephemerally turned into a garden filled with luminescent floras.

With your hands still clasped together as you raced through the crowd, Jungwon looked back at you with a bright smile on his face and his eyes sparkling with delight, spilling endless words of amazement.

You mirrored the joy on his face as you smiled back, the colorful flames not only lighting up your path but also the utter happiness in your expressions.

The whole scene felt cinematic, its beauty making the night feel magical, a sense that anything was possible, but it also gave you a touch of melancholy.

You didn’t know what the future held for you and the boy who held your hand right now, but at this moment, you could only wish that this was how it was always going to be with him—to bask in the feeling of freedom, hope, and happiness.

Jungwon thinks so too. As your hands remained intertwined in the seemingly endless chase, he felt that this was where he is free, where he belongs. With you. And he knows he won’t ever be able to let you go now, more than friends or not.

Eventually, the running had to come to an end as you felt like your legs were about to give up on you. The two of you stopped at a secluded area in the school grounds, the number of students now barely existent in the quiet clearing.

You immediately approached a tree nearby and rested your back on its trunk, with Jungwon following closely behind, his laughter making your heart soar. The explosions in the sky had gradually vanished, the smell of gunpowder now lingering in the air.

As you leaned against the tree with your ponytail a bit loose from all the running, laughing breathlessly with a radiant smile, and a gentle breeze rustling a few petals to fall around you—Jungwon thinks you couldn’t have been any prettier.

As a matter of fact, the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

And there it was again, the familiar flutter in his heart whenever he’s with you. The somersaults that his stomach was having whenever he’d hear your laugh or see that wide smile on your face.

And he realizes, now is the time.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself before approaching you, his voice turning soft and a little nervous as he calls your name.

“Y/N.”

You turn to meet his gaze, your laughter fading as you recognized that certain tone in his voice. The one he always uses when he has something important or serious to tell you.

You push yourself off the tree and walk towards him, trying to appear casual despite being just as nervous as him as you anticipated whatever he was going to say.

He looks down for a moment before his eyes return to you, gulping nervously when he tried to compose himself, yet the tenderness in his voice had betrayed him.

“Can I...can I hold your hand?”

“Sure,” you quickly agreed and he slowly reached his hand out to take yours, inwardly cursing himself as he noticed that it was slightly shaking.

It didn’t escape your senses too and so you gently squeezed his hand, silently reassuring him that it will be alright. You could see the nervousness in his eyes, but he pushes through it.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say for a while now...but I didn't want to ruin things and I was scared of what you’d think...but now, I don’t think I could keep it in any longer.”

Yang Jungwon barely kept a secret from you, aside from these brewing feelings. So hearing these words from him right now, your anxiousness and anticipation reach an all-time high.

You tried to think of all possible things, though there was one that stood out, and you couldn’t help but feel a little stupid for being hopeful. It was hard not to when the boy was looking at you so delicately and his hand seemingly held onto yours for dear life.

Jungwon panics inside as soon as he realizes that his little rehearsals in front of the mirror went to waste, every single word that he practically carved into his mind now gone out of the window. In this moment, blown by the gentle breeze of the night, perhaps.

But your touch grounds him to reality, and he knows that nothing would change whether he would profess practiced words or not—he had fallen for you, hard, and the way to declare that now was simply to listen to what his heart says.

“Y/N, I really admire you. You know that, right? But there’s more than just that.”

He takes a deep breath. This is it, Jungwon. No more hiding.

“I’m captivated by your kindness and strength. I really look up to your intelligence and courage. I-I think highly of you, you know? You’re very understanding and I really appreciate you. You matter a lot to me.”

“And you’re really beautiful, inside and out.” His voice quiets down for a moment, and he helplessly smiles. “I just...adore you.”

“You deserve more than just this, whatever this is that I’m doing, I...I actually bought you some flowers but I left them at the office and I can’t go back now because the travel from here to there would give me the misfortune of running into the council again—”

You silently break out into laughter at his exasperation, evident from how the words came out of his mouth without a pause. Jungwon takes a break to laugh with you, a shy smile accompanying the rosy pink that delicately painted his cheeks.

But after a few moments, his laughter fades into another deep inhale, his expression shifting to something more earnest, and maybe even a little anxious.

“Y/N...I’m really, scared, of losing our friendship, but I can’t keep this hidden anymore.”

A short pause hangs in the air that makes you tighten your hold on his hand ever so slightly, and Jungwon takes a moment to admire you before letting his heart speak once more.

“The truth is, I’m not sure if this is love, but it feels special, and I think there’s potential for something real between us. If you would have me, I’d take care of you, and I want—I’ll strive to be worthy of and earn your affection.”

You reflect the mellow expression on his face and it echoes the fondness swirling in your heart, your mind now rid of any thoughts, save for the words of the cat-eyed boy holding your hand.

“You don’t have to feel anything for me, I just couldn’t keep it in any longer and I had to tell you.”

He gulps thickly, and the hopefulness in his voice makes you want to just pull him into a gentle embrace, to assure him that his feelings weren’t unrequited.

“But if you would, if you would...give me, us, the chance, maybe...” He searches for your eyes, as if looking for comfort in them. “...maybe we could be more than just friends.”

Jungwon feels like he’d just ran out of air after finally laying bare his heart, but as you only stared at him with a stunned expression, it’s almost like he had to hold his breath and desperately wait for what you would do next.

His gaze darts across your features, analyzing every little shift in your expression and overthinking the words that left his mouth.

Was he too direct? Was it not heartfelt enough? Could he have said something wrong? Do you feel awkward at him now? Would you push him away? This was it. He was going to lose you, this friendship, and—

“Jungwon.”

His eyes draw up to meet your gaze, and you feel a pang of worry at how vulnerable he looks right now, so you kindly smile at him.

“Thank you.”

He blinks one, two, three times, and it’s like you knocked the air out of him again. “Wh-what?”

You warmly smile at him, patting the back of his hand. “Thank you for telling me how you felt.”

It was true. Despite your initial surprise, you had the feeling that it must’ve taken a lot of courage for him to say those things, and that he was just as nervous as you.

However, your words don’t fully reassure Jungwon, even as he breathes a sigh of relief. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes as his gaze travels across your face, and he stays silent, waiting for you to say more.

Just then, he sees that familiar glint in your eyes and the subtle smile on your lips—a telltale sign that you were definitely not going to respond in a way that he would expect, or at least be prepared for. And Jungwon doesn’t know whether he should be relieved or anxious by it.

“Is this your way of telling me that you want us to be ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’?”

He closes his eyes with a silent laugh, almost in disbelief at how playful your tone was, considering the soulful confession he had just made. He feels as though his heart was bursting with happiness right now at the implication of your words. So when his eyes stare right into yours again, he takes a few seconds before he speaks with a fond smile.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t care about any names, Y/N. All I want is a chance from you.” He takes a step closer, and you weren’t sure if you were just imagining it, but his gaze seemed to have softened.

“Any names, any chances, I’d take it. I wouldn’t mind taking it slow and wait for you. But all of it, only...”

Only what...?

To your surprise, he slightly leans down and lifts your hand up to meet his face. Then it happened before you could even think about what he was going to do. His lips found its way to the back of your hand, his touch just as gentle and reverent as when he had done it before.

But this time, Jungwon doesn’t open his eyes to meet yours, not even to woo or sweep you off your feet. Instead, his lips linger on your skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if he’s taking all his time to let you know how sincere he was about his feelings.

And when he finally straightens up again, you could feel your heart skip a beat at the look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, his voice the softest you’ve ever heard from him.

“...only if you say yes.”

So, it seemed like Prince Charles from the third Cinderella film was right. At this moment, there was nothing else but the stars shining brighter and the person you adored.

Yang Jungwon.

You smiled at him before you looked away and reached for the letter inside your jacket. Jungwon is confused at first, and he feels as if he was now caught in a whirlwind of falling petals as you handed him the envelope.

“I...I was about to give you that tonight, and let you know how I feel.”

His eyes moved from the letter in his hands and to your eyes, and he thinks to himself that he would’ve completely melted by now if it weren’t for your hand holding his.

Then just as he thinks of your touch, you bring the top of his hand to meet your lips in a quick yet soft kiss without tearing your gaze away from him. His breath catches in his throat, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. He feels as if he’s being embraced gently by your warmth.

“But I’m here now, and that’s what matters,” You add with a smile, and Jungwon feels like his knees would’ve buckled if he didn’t try to remain composed.

“You don’t have to earn my affection. You already have my heart with you—I like you a lot, Yang Jungwon.”

The thumping of his heart echoes even louder in his ears, and his face lights up with a gentle smile, one that makes you feel that it’s a smile you’d want to protect for the rest of your life.

You only stare at each other for a moment, holding a meaningful gaze that spoke volumes of how you saw each other now. With a sense of understanding and appreciation that enveloped your hearts, that this was where you felt safe and belonged to.

The joy and contentment in your faces were illuminated once the second wave of fireworks burst in the sky, the spectrum of colors and patterns reflecting in your irises, as if further igniting the spark between you two and turning them into a waterfall of dazzling flames.

You both turned to look up at the same time, admiring the beautiful array of brilliant rubies, cupid pink arrows, blazing embers of a hearth, golden rays, electric blue, and aquamarine waves—each luminary streak falling down in drops of star dust, mirroring the sparkle of warmth in your hearts.

Jungwon lightly tugged your hand to pull you closer beside him, your gazes still fixed on the magic of the dancing lights above as your shoulders brushed against one another. He intertwines your fingers and traced his thumb at the back of your hand, the small gesture conveying his affection for you.

A moment of quiet intimacy falls upon the two of you, but the warmth and comfort you found in each other’s presence was enough proof of how your brewing emotions had now turned on a new page, with the pirouette of fireworks and star-lit sky bearing witness to the whole scene.

And as you stood side-by-side with your former rival, student council president, and good friend Yang Jungwon, maybe even your lover now—you know that there wouldn’t be any other answer to him than yes.

💌 : you’ve made it here? thank you so much for reading! get yourself some blueberry cheesecake 🥰

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