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chlorinecake · 10 months ago

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🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【薄幸な恋人】 ⛦

summ✩ry ⭑⭒⭑ As rehearsals and promotions for your big collab stage with Enhypen become progressively more intense, you and Niki face challenges that might effect your secret relationship and standing with the company...

p✩iring ⭑⭒⭑ idol!niki x popstar!reader PREVIOUSLY

cont✩ins ⭑⭒⭑ band au, fluff, secret romance, kissing + a slightly heated make-out scene, mild bullying, LOTS of drama, reader is younger than Niki, 3.6k words

It felt strange having your hair, makeup, and clothes managed by someone else, especially in such a meticulous way.

Today was the big day of the Riot Grrlz x Enhypen fan meeting that Hybe was hosting in honor of your upcoming collaboration stage, the event acting as some sort of promotional.

The fashion theme for the day, as decided by the likes of an online poll distributed by Enhypen's Instagram account, was 'Schoolgirl / Schoolboy,' which meant everyone would be dressed in plaid neck ties and neatly-ironed button-down blazers.

“This'll have to do,” murmured one of the makeup artist's on duty, simply dusting you with a bit of blush, some gloss, and shimmery eye shadow because they couldn't find a foundation shade that matched your skin color.

“I can't find my contact solution!” Serenity exclaimed frantically in the dressing studio, searching through her sparkly teal duffle bag for the fifth time this hour.

Of course none of you were willing to assist her on the aimless contact solution hunt, especially not with the way she verbally harassed the makeup crew for not "lining her eyes right."

“Just let it go, Ren,” Sunghoon said with an annoyed sigh, “the stylists are making all of us wear glasses for the concept today anyways...”

“Okay first of all, don't call me by my nickname. Second, it's not my vision I'm worried about, but my image,” she clarified matter-of-factly, “I wanna impress the Korean fans with a big and bright boba eye moment...”

“You have sooo many problems,” Jade added with a similar irritation, rolling her eyes at the diva before a hairstylist ran over to clip in another track of fake hair.

“Tell me about it,” Serenity huffed despairingly, sticking her arms out like a scarecrow as the fashion crew adjusted the belt around her waist.

“Let's just try and maintain a good mood before the meeting guys,” you started optimistically amongst the tension, “the fans might pick up on our bad energy if we all show up pouting like this...”

“Easy for you to say,” Niki replied teasingly, “you slept like a baby last night… meanwhile, you kept me up with your insistent snoring…”

“Did not,” you whined in protest, looking back at his attractively playful expression, “it’s not my fault that the stories you tell in your groggy bedtime voice are so relaxing.”

Niki meant to reply but was rudely interrupted by Serenity’s stinky attitude, “Aww, late night bonding moment, I see? Hope a little ‘story time’ was as far as it got for you two lovebirds...”

You and Niki shook your heads in unison at her senseless comment, the rest of Enhypen and your band mates soon rushing out of the dressing room and outside to the awaiting limousine as the schedule manager directed.

“Make sure you have everything you need, guys! We’re running a bit behind on time and can’t afford any more set-backs,” exclaimed a tall, broad man in athletic wear, a black Hybe hat topping off his look.

“Got it, sir,” Jungwon replied politely, double-checking his leather cross-body bag before stepping into the vehicle, the rest of you following after him.

You didn’t expect to see Miss Kim in the front seat with the chauffeur, but you greeted her nonetheless.

“Morning, Miss Kim!,” You and Hearin started enthusiastically.

“Morning, Riot Grrlz,” she returned while not looking at any of you, writing hasty yet neat notes down on her clipboard, “I’ll be bold and assume you ladies have never attended any sort of fan event, correct?”

“Y-yes, that is correct,” Jade answered before you, crossing her legs in her seat, “this’ll be our very first experience today…”

“Oh, that’s cool for you then, isn’t it? Don’t worry if you don’t know what to say or do, by the way... just copy us,” you heard Heeseung encourage somewhere behind you, but your mind was more focused on the way Niki’s hand accidentally brushed against yours while you two glared out of the same window...

Accidentally… maybe…

“I was just getting around to that, Heeseung,” Miss Kim continued after clearing her coffee-stained throat, “Korean fans as a whole are pretty cutthroat, and whether you’re a foreigner or not, they expect you to present yourself a certain way…”

“Perfect,” Sunoo thought out loud, “they expect you to be perfect…”

“That’s just the way this idol life goes, I'm afraid,” Jungwon sighed from his seat, not empathetically, but in a realistic sense.

“Either way, you girls should be safe to mirror whatever the boys are doing if you ever feel confused…” Miss Kim trailed off, the limo being just a few feet from reaching the fan meeting center, “Good luck today, you all.”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Things were turning out surprisingly smooth at the event, to say the least.

Needless to mention, you and Niki stayed pretty close the entire time, and the fans seemed to be amused by your attempt at famous duo heart poses with him.

“Just extend your hand like this,” he instructed while giggling, watching as your overhead heart ended up looking more like an oval to the audience.

Serenity was received as a fan favorite, too, her “boba eye” look captivating the male attendees while others were more entertained in her beginner Korean skills.

“Hwaiting,” she exclaimed confidently before the fans one too many times for your tolerance, Sunghoon’s face clearly showing just how much he was enjoying not being the cringiest person in the room for once.

Or, at least that was until an older fan requested that he and Sunoo sing and dance to the infamous aeygo Ottoke song for good luck at the show tomorrow.

“The things we do for engene,” the two boys collectively thought to themselves while fastening coquette bunny ears atop their heads, hoping that their enthusiasm would override the embarrassment.

It was all just such a culture shock for you and your group.

“Uhhh, a little help here?” Haerin worriedly called out to Jake as a particularly excited Korean fan approached her with a lot to say that she could barely understand.

“Oh- allow me,” Jake offered between the language barrier, translating to Haerin what the fan was trying to tell her.

“She thinks I’m a what now?”

“A K-pop Idol, mostly because of your trendy look today,” Jungwon giggled warmly, “the prophesied eighth member of Enhypen, in fact...”

Haerin laughed with both embarrassment and flattery, trying her best to explain to the young fan that she was a member of the Riot Grrlz and Riot Grrlz only.

Interactive activities continued just as well after this, the event nearing its end as you and Niki did a few TikTok dance challenges for the fans on stage.

Dance challenges that you had practiced with him in eery hours of the night, or whenever you two were left alone in the dance studio.

That, alongside other things too… like stealing sweet kisses here and there… or nearly melting while staring into each others love struck eyes—

“____, right?” A fan asked, approaching you with a blue marker and square of paper.

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you,” you returned, keeping eye contact with her, despite the dark shades she wore.

“Nice to meet you, too! I have so many questions to ask you about what it’s like working with Enhypen!… and I really like your hair, too! The highlights look really nice with your outfit hehe… ALSO, I've been listening to a lot of your groups songs recently, and my favorite has to be the main track from your most recent album, it’s so unique!…” the fans voice eventually trailed off shyly.

“Oh my goodness, sorry for rambling!! Uhmmm, can I get your autograph by any chance?”

“Aww, thank you,” you smiled brightly, “and it’s okay! I find it cute how interested you are in my experience and music…”

Your hand reached out to grab the marker from her grasp, your body leaning forward slightly as you signed your name on the photo, resting your weight on the desk before you.

So lost in the moment, you didn’t even realize that the photo you had just signed was one of you and Niki hanging out just outside of Yeouido Park the other night.

It was impossible to hold back the gasp that escaped your throat at the realization, your finger loosing its grip around the marker as your stunned eyes met her knowing ones.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she chuckled in a facetiously sweet tone, you and her hands fighting over the now autographed-polaroid before your grip overthrew hers.

“Where did you get that—”

“Your secret’s safe with me, alright?” She interrupted with a sharp whisper, “So long as you work on distancing yourself from Niki moving forward…”

You blinked in feigned confusion at her words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re just colleagues—”

“And he’s an idol,” she cut in again, “idols don’t belong to silly American girls like you… you don’t even belong in our world…”

At this point, you're certain she could see how upset you were with her, and you didn't even care to hide it. “Everyone has welcomed me here, expect for you… and to what gain? I’m here with my band solely for work purposes, and I can assure you there is nothing you have to worry about concerning my professionalism.”

Your strong reply seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way, one of her hands fastening the bag over her shoulder while the other adjusted the glasses sitting at her nose.

“Thank you for your time,” she nearly growled at you, that same phony smile plastered to her lips before she hurriedly walked away, disappearing into the crowd of fans.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding, trying to calm yourself down before anyone noticed the silent commotion that had occurred on your side of the meeting booth.

All you could do was hope that this was the only copy or evidence of you and Niki hanging out that night as you folded the paper into a small square, tucking it under your sleeve in a way that no one would notice.

Above all though, you were just glad that the event was coming to an end soon, a few on-set staff members already helping to put away some stage props, meanwhile Sunoo, Heeseung, and Jade helped themselves to bringing along some gifts from fans.

“Hey... uhm, Heeseung? Can I-”

“Yes, Jade,” Heeseung answered with a giggle, “you can have all of my kitty plush gifts...”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The limo ride back to the HYBE building was quiet, the sole thought roaming in the back of your mind being that one fan's cruel words…

…𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥...

It wasn’t like you were trying to infiltrate the world of K-pop.

You and your group were simply expanding your collab horizons upon being invited, and it seriously boggled you how anyone would have a problem with that—

“Knock knock,” Niki said with a smile in his voice from behind the door to your private backstage dressing room, waiting for your cue that it was safe for him to come in.

“You can come in, Niki,” you replied softly, standing in front of the body length wall mirror while struggling to fix your hair into a suitable style for the stage practice in a few minutes.

“Hi,” you greeted again once he reached you, watching as his eyes traced your reflection, almost immediately picking up on your nervous demeanor.

“You did great today, ____, y’know that?” He started with a low voice, guiding your stressed hands away from your head and resting them at your sides.

“Niki, I have to get ready—”

“And you already look more than prepared,” he encouraged, securing his hands around your waist before leaving a kiss below your ear, “gorgeous, even...”

“Thanks,” you answered shyly, somehow already feeling a bit better about things now that he was near you.

“So. Are you gonna tell me what’s got you upset or are we gonna make this a guessing game?” He teased, making you chuckle a bit as his attempt to cheer you up.

Your eyes fell to the floor, his grip on you loosening as a little sigh escaped your freshly glossed lips.

“A fan…,” you began quietly, “at the meeting today… she asked me to sign this photo.”

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the mysterious square photo and watched with a pout as Niki carefully unfolded it from each corner.

“I… I don’t understand…” he stuttered, eyes glazing over the sight of you and him holding hands at the firework show that night.

“I know, it’s my fault that—”

“No…,” he interrupted your words before meeting your guilt-ridden eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re letting this get to you…”

“Excuse me?” You asked with a confused expression, “if something like this gets out, it could ruin both of our careers, y’know?”

“Sure,” he responded nonchalantly with a shrug, “but I couldn’t care less about some jealous sasaeng’s creepy little photo fest… by now, it’s gonna take a lot more than an innocent, harmless photo of us hanging out to make me question our status in this field.”

“You never take anything seriously, Nishimura,” you smiled with a sigh, shaking your head as you watched his fingers tear the photo to pieces.

“Well you’re definitely an exception to that trait of mine,” he smirked, tucking the torn shreds of paper into his back pocket before finding your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss to your left cheek.

“How sweet of you to say,” you whispered softly, grabbing the neckline of his shirt and pulling him closer to your height, “now how about you kiss me properly this time?”

He hummed at your teasing tone, sharp features softening as he tilted his head, sealing the space between you and him with the sweet kiss you’d been waiting for.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Niki sighed against your lips, his right hand removing the rubber band securing your ponytail so his fingers could roam freely through your curls.

Things were escalating pretty quickly now, both of your breaths sounding more labored with each second as you stumbled backwards onto the desk, his energy leading the kiss as he remained on top of you.

It was almost more than you could handle, his hands roaming at your sides before your eyes barely fluttered open, the sight of his slightly blushed button-nose making you feel like melting on the spot.

Thats when you realized his pink hue was a result of two reasons: (1) The way your hands shyly clung to his shoulders right now, and (2) the shadow of footsteps peeking behind your dressing room door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Miss ____, its Kim... Are you decent?”

“Erm, one second!” You responded in an obvious frantic.

Niki helped you get up from the vanity table, kneeling down quickly to hide himself under the it as the stern lady made her way into the room anyway.

“Sorry to intrude,” she began abruptly, not even taking note of your currently disheveled hair and flushed expression, “but I’ve unfortunately been appointed as the bearer of bad news for today…”

“Oh... uhm, w- what is it, is everyone alright?” You asked with a concerned tone, trying to take your mind off the fact that a Niki stained with the glimmer of your peach flavored lipgloss all over his mouth was literally under your desk right now, a mere two feet away from Miss Kim’s leather boots.

“For the most part, yes… but it concerns one of your band mates… Serenity, specifically… Since you are the leader of your group, I found it humble to have at least this much respect to tell you first in private.”

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them back up, restoring your usually confident aura and making eye contact with the woman.

“Thank you, Miss Kim… I’m listening…”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The sounds of shoes rhythmically scuffing, mics going in and out of focus, and layered fits of heavy breathing filled your ears for the next two hours.

Design tech, stage directors, and performers alike were giving it their all to perfect things before the big show coming up.

You paced around the shiny stage, a sweat rag secured lazily around your neck as you and the Enhypen members just got through with rehearsing the main choreo at the performing arena for the first time.

Everyone except Jay and Jade that is, who were still busy with working on their guitar duet for the intro show backstage with the music writers.

“I have no idea how you can still see after being in front of these bright stage lights all the time,” you huffed out tiredly, glancing at Sunoo who only shrugged while taking a few gulps from his grey water bottle.

“I’m not too sure either, but for the lot of us, it’s just something you have to get used to,” he tried warmly before letting himself fall on the ground, limbs spread out like an exhausted snowman as sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Here, lemme show you a little trick I like to use,” Niki offered with a smile while approaching you from behind, his larger frame casting a shadow before you.

“Look down there,” he started, guiding your waist with one hand as he pointed ahead of you with the other, “do you see the tech crew down there?”

You looked to where his finger was pointing, eyes being met with the sight of workers who sat in reclining chairs while others drank some coffee, a few sporadic employees carrying clipboards with stacks of paper, giving out orders to their fellow floor members.

“Yeah, I see them,” you answered, making Niki laugh slightly for reasons you didn’t fully understand.

“That means you’re too close then,” he replied, still holding your waist as he guided you to take a few steps back, which ended up being more steps for you given the leg length differences.

“There’s a rule of thumb that if you can see the audience, they can’t see you… are the lights still bothering you now?”

“Not as much, actually,” you said, turning to face him as he still held you close, everything in your body fighting not to kiss him in this moment given the way he looked back at you, “thanks again…”

“Anytime,” he smirked smuggly, “but uhhh, I think people might be looking at us now—”

“Oh,” you giggled shyly, backing a few inches away from him.

“Ahem,” a nagging voice cleared from beside you two, breaking the wholesome presence of the moment.

“Do you guys think you’re invisible or something?” Serenity asked, crossing her arms while staring the both of you up.

“Uhm…. No?” Niki answered for you, furrowing his eyes at the blue-eyed diva.

“Then why’re you just standing there? You’re blocking my light…”

You let out a scoff at her words, feeling baffled at the thought of how insecure girls like her could have such egotistical tendencies.

“Sorry, Serenity…,” you said half-heartedly, “didn’t mean to disturb your… solo mid-break practice session...”

“Really appreciate it, leader lady,” she replied sarcastically, very intentionally bumping into your shoulder as she walked past you before stopping in her tracks, a loose copy of the stage schedule getting caught under her baby pink sneakers.

She leaned down to pick it up, examining the text before her eyes stumbled over a line of bolded words. All of this was for reasons she didn’t understand, but either way, would soon resent.

“Ugh?!!” She exclaimed with a confused scoff, “HYBE is kicking me from the show??”

Your eyes widened at her words, the furious, confused, and torn look on her face doing nothing but make Niki smirk to himself, “Serenity, I can explain—”

“And you knew about this, didn’t you?” She accused with balled fists, looking between your nervous face and Niki’s shamelessly proud one.

“I just found out today, okay? But Miss Kim specifically instructed me not to say anything about until she revealed it to you herself after practice,” you clarified with a shaky voice.

“Please,” she said with a scoff, “And what’s with the face, Nishimura Nimrod? Huh!? Your little girlfriend told you before she told me, her own band mat—”

“I didnt tell him anything!” You retorted with a slightly raised voice, cracking with nerves you couldn't keep buried anymore.

You never liked being in the hot seat unless you were sitting there with Niki, thanks to his ability to always maintain his cool under pressure...

However, for some reason, even with him next to you right now, you still felt like hurling yourself to the ground.

“You had to have told me him something, so just stop with your insistent lies, ____,” Serenity spat, poking a finger in the center of your chest. Hard.

“You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, its been all over your rotten little face ever since we got here… You’re so jealous of me and it’s honestly depressing at this point…”

Oh Serenity, you thought in your mind, if only you knew this was all brought on by yourself…

You’d had enough of her ignorant speech, holding a fierce eye contact with her while trying to conceal the tears forming behind your eyes.

The sadness growing in your heart…

“None of this was my decision, Ren, so if you have a bone to pick with someone, try taking it up with Miss Kim herself,” you said firmly, walking back a few steps in case she tried touching you again, “I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform you on her reasons for exiling you from the main activities…”

“What’s going on you guys?” Haerin asked timidly in the midst of the chaos, having just come back from washing up in the restroom.

Serenity practically burned holes in your face with her venomous glare before turning sharply on her heel, footsteps loud and startling as she marched off the stage, murmuring a string of curses under her breath.

“Soooo,” Sunghoon started with a curious accent, “I’m usually not the best at comprehending things, but I’m assuming that whatever just happened was a lot more serious than the usual Riot Grrlz drama, correct?”

“Yeah, what's the big deal ____?,” Jade asked alongside Jake, who gave your shoulder a comforting shake.

You fought with everything in your body to not to let any tears fall...

Because in this moment, it just felt right to cry, but at the same time, was it really worth appearing weak in front of everyone?

Everyone who counted on you to remain strong?

You exhaled with a deep breath, wiping the pricks of moisture from your eyes before speaking, “Serenity won’t be performing with us for the special stage anymore… only the ending song.”

A cacophony of gasps filled the room at your words, Jungwon having picked up the loose schedule copy to analyze it for himself, the bolded words reading:

>> SERENITY TAYLOR Authorized to be PULLED from Furthering Her Performance Activities in Sight of Behavioral Decency Violations Under HYBE's Collaboration and Code of Conduct Standards

“Will she be allowed to attend the award show at least,” Heeseung inquired, not out of empathy, but curiosity as all of this was unfolding pretty fast.

“Perhaps, but for now, we can rest on the thought that we’ll have one less problem while preparing from here on out,” you answered, feeling a large hand take your hand in theirs before giving it a gentle squeeze.

Niki.

“Either way, the show must go on you guys,” he said with a deep voice, the faintest smile being on his face as he looked back at you, dark eyes sparkling with sincerity.

The stage lights flickered from ahead and above you, a key indicator that the radio would be picking up again soon, playing the instrumental to your practice track.

“Mic check everyone and it’s back to rehearsals in five,” yelled out a staff member from below the stage, the ten of you now lining up in formation while adjusting your headsets around your ears.

There was only one thought that remained in your head as the choreographer hopped up center stage to explain how the performance would accommodate for Serenity's sudden absence:

The show must go on.

🎙️For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s 💕 This is episode 3 for ya ~ Thanks for being so patient with me :3

⛦ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel @ashgonedash @laurradoesloveu @caithefly @samhomo @rikikiynikilcykiki @3ngene--frvr @illymontyshit @filmofhybe @whoslug @nikiiitties

🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~

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iamsebastiansstan · 24 days ago

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got some nerve to play hard - NAC x fem!reader

summary - "Can she… can she take all of you?”

Nicholas’ eyes widen at her boldness before they glance down, looking at his own crotch. She follows his gaze, stupidly, but his pants are too loose, giving nothing away.

“She tries, but no. Nobody could before.”

“I bet I could,” she husks before she can stop herself, bites the inside of her cheek at her stupid mistake. Talking about someone else is one thing, but putting herself in that position could ruin their little fantasy, the little game they’re playing.

wc - 6k - MINORS DNI !

warnings - strangers to lovers, lots and lots of dirty talk, talking about Nicholas being with another woman, masturbation (m and f), coming on pussy 👀

A/N - I'm sorry, this isn't proofread, I sat down and didn't get up til it was finished. I've used this introduction in two other fandoms already but I can't help it, it's my fave lmaooo might write more parts but we'll see. come and shout at me in my DMs or messages, and let me know what you think <3 enjoy!

🖤🖤🖤 Cooper’s parties are always fun, always a blast; people dancing and drinking, enjoying themselves and letting go of their stressful day to day routines, celebrating their lives for one reckless evening.

She loves it, whenever she gets an invite, but lately she’s been stressed out more than usual, her college workload overwhelming her and the fact that she’s here now, in Calabasas instead of at her apartment in New York, makes guilt creep up her neck, makes her think of the points on her to-do lists she could be ticking off if she pulled an all-nighter at home instead of partying her time away. Though, she’s missed Cooper a lot, and she’s glad he’s letting her stay in his guest bedroom so they can spend some time together.

That is where she’s heading to right now, needing a breather from the crowd and the noise. Sneaking up the stairs without getting interrupted is easy, and she sighs as she opens the door, locks it for good measure. Her bag is in the corner by the closet, and she crouches down, opens it, takes out her perfume and spritzes some onto her neck to refresh her favorite scent. Letting herself plop down onto the bed, she starts massaging her right shoulder that’s been smarting a little since she got off the plane at LAX when suddenly the door of the en-suite opens, making her head snap up.

Waltzing out comes none other than Nicholas Chavez, Cooper’s close friend and Monsters co-star, making her heart stutter in her chest. Cooper mentioned having invited him, but she hadn’t seen him downstairs yet, which she had been glad about if she’s being honest with herself. She has a tiny celebrity crush on him, but not enough for a genuine freakout.

He stops in his tracks, then, looks at her wide-eyed. She takes in his messy hair, his rosy cheeks, a few droplets of water on his face, and smiles.

“Hello.”

“Um, hi?” he greets, eyes darting to the door and back again. “I- I’m sorry, are you staying here? I didn’t know that- if-“

“All good,” she interrupts, sitting up straighter, smile not faltering. “Cooper has graciously let me claim this room for the weekend, and I came here to… take a breather, I guess.”

Nicholas leans against the door, then, arms crossing over his chest.

“I’m sorry for invading your space, then.”

“You’re totally fine, I’m happy to share if you’d like.”

“How very nice of you,” he says, gives her a tiny smile before stepping forward and stretching out his arm. “I’m Nicholas.”

She takes his hand in hers, shakes it, hoping he doesn’t notice how clammy her palm is.

“(Y/N),” she grins, “nice to meet ya.”

They stay there for a beat too long, him standing above her and her sitting, shaking hands sluggishly, before she decides to break the silence.

“Were you okay in there?” she says and lets go of his hand, motions to the bathroom.

He drives a hand through his hair, nodding slowly.

“Yeah… yeah, well. I had to splash some cold water on my face and just… be in silence for a bit, but I’m okay. You?”

She scooches up the bed, leans back against the headboard and stretches her legs out in front of herself. Her back hurts a little and she was looking forward to stretching out properly for a bit, but there’s no way she’s going to sprawl across these sheets in front of him.

“’m okay, thank you. Just overwhelmed. I can leave again, though, if you’d like. You were here first.”

“Technically,” he starts, sauntering over to the other side of the bed, pointing at it and sitting down when she gives him a nod, “you were here first, and I can totally leave if you need me to.”

She chuckles, rolls her eyes a little, feels the three tequila shots she took before coming up here in her system.

“Sharing is caring, Nicholas, and besides, do I seem like I’d want you to leave?”

He shrugs, gives her a slow smile. “Guess not. Thanks.”

He asks her how she knows Cooper and she tells him the story of how they met at a party and instantly hit it off, she asks him what it’s like to be working with Cooper in a professional setting, and their conversation moves from the topic of their mutual friend to various others: Nick’s career, her studies, their hobbies and so on and so forth. At one point he sneaks downstairs and comes back with four bottles clutched in his large hands: two water and two Smirnoff ice.

“Do I look like a 17-year-old to you?” she laughs when he holds them towards her in triumph, tongue in cheek.

“C’mon, (Y/N), live a little.”

Comfortable silence settles over them when they’ve emptied their drinks and she can’t believe just how easy he is to talk to, how much time has passed while they were having fun.

“So…” she asks, heart hammering in her chest but she swallows down her sudden nervousness, “Wanna talk about it?”

She nods towards the bathroom and he inhales sharply once he’s understood her question.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, you clearly weren’t doing so well,” she says, smiles at him, shrugs, “I’m just saying, if you wanna talk about it, I’m here to listen. This is a judgment-free zone.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he frowns but the smile he’s trying to fight of betrays him, “I judged you pretty hard for your snack preferences to be honest.”

“Pickles and peanut butter are a delicious combination!” she laughs, exasperated, “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!”

They stay giggling like that before he shrugs, fiddling with a loose thread of the comforter they’re sitting on.

“I just… it’s… I think I messed up,” he sighs, leaning his head back against the headboard, exposing the column of his throat that she is decidedly not looking at.

“How so?”

“With my… ex. Well, ex I think.”

She nods slowly, not quite following. Of course, she knows who his ex is, her name, what she looks like, the projects she’s involved in. She seems like the sweetest girl, but not much is public about her, so her curiosity is piqued.

“Go on…”

He exhales then, grabs his water and downs the rest of it in one go, wiping his mouth before crossing his arms across his chest. He’s frustrated, she can tell, but he looks so damn good that she feels a tad guilty for being on the verge of distraction.

“We broke up during a fight last week. It was so bad, and… I mean, it’s been bad, right? My schedule, the distance, she grew more and more tired of it and I- I get it, y’know? It’s not easy, being with me.”

“I see,” she nods, turns towards him more. “I can imagine that your lifestyle can get tricky for everyone involved.”

“Yeah, I can’t expect everyone to wanna keep up, y’know? And the worst part is, when she did it- because she did it, right- I felt relieved. Like somehow, she was being set free, and I didn’t have to be the asshole to do it.”

Her eyes narrow, not quite agreeing with his statement. She saw how hard Hollywood can be on anyone, especially someone with a “normal” partner who’s got a “normal” job, but it’s not like anyone is being forced to hold on to their unhappiness. She tells him as much.

“Well, yeah, I’m being a bit dramatic. But at the end of the day, I know it’s better for us if we are separated. I still love her so much, but… I can’t. So much has happened, and I… can’t.” He gets quiet then, stares out the window into the night, before chuckling humorlessly, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. ‘m sorry for being such a downer.”

“Hey, no worries at all,” she smiles warmly, reaches out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezes once. “I offered, and I really am here to listen. Thank you for your trust.”

He scoffs, not unkindly. “Yeah, you’re really easy to talk to. Thanks for that.”

One more squeeze to his shoulder before she lets go, leans back.

“So, you feel like you fucked up by, what, letting her break it off, or…?”

Nicholas snaps out of his momentary thoughts, shakes his head.

“Oh, that wasn’t the fuck-up, no. I feel shitty because… well, because of what happened yesterday. I drove to hers to give her some stuff back,” he explains, and her stomach drops. They broke up, he drove to hers, he messed up.

There’s only one thing that can mean, and she listens closely, waits for him to say it, but the words never come.

Throwing caution in the wind, she dares to finish the train of thought for him.

“And you two had sex.”

Nick’s wide eyes snap to hers, a blush coloring his smooth cheeks, and she chuckles.

“C’mon, it’s okay, we’re all grown here!”

“It was so stupid!” he exclaims, throwing his head back while she has to hold back her laughter. “Don’t make fun!”

“I’m sorry, I’m not!” she giggles, reaches out to him to get his attention. “Nicholas, that’s normal! Is it really a breakup if you don’t have breakup sex?”

“Yes!” he laughs at her, a little manic this time, driving a hand through his tousled hair. “Fuck you mean, is it really a breakup? Having sex after is the dumbest move you could make!”

Hiding her face in her hands, she allows herself a loud belly laugh, endlessly amused by his distress. She calms herself down, has a sip of her water.

“I disagree, sometimes it’s needed for closure.”

“Yeah, fuck that, because earlier she texted me if I could come see her again soon and that there’s things we still need to talk about. I feel like I’m back at square one.”

“You think you’ll give in to her if she asks to give your relationship a second chance?”

It takes a beat for him to mull it over.

“I don’t know, maybe?”

It’s been an interesting night so far and the alcohol is still shimmying its way through her system, she’s here with her celebrity crush and having a great time, so she makes a conscious decision to be bold and see where it lands her.

She scoots closer, turns so she’s right next to him and sits criss cross applesauce so she can lean forward and take his hands in hers. He’s looking at her questioningly but goes with her motion.

“Nicholas, I know we don’t know each other, but I want you to tell me if you need me to be honest with you or if you want me to hype you up on getting back on your bullshit? Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

His unsure gaze darts to the side before settling on hers again, nodding dumbly.

“Tell me what you think,” he requests, and she smirks as she obliges.

“You’re being a big fucking baby and you need to get over it and tell her, once and for all, that it’s better this way. If you go there, have the conversation and then get back with her despite your gut telling you not to? That would be a fuck-up. Sex with your ex is nothing compared to what a mistake that would be.”

The silence that settles over the room is thick, turning more uncomfortable by the second, and suddenly she feels herself sober up quickly, the realization of what she just said to this stranger, how grandiosely she stepped out of line, hitting her hard.

Apology ready on her lips, she’s just about to backtrack, when he squeezes her hands, closes his mouth in a resolute expression.

“Damn, that was… Thank you. Yeah, you’re right,” he’s muttering, and she can feel her heart in her throat, relief washing over her. “Wow, I don’t think anyone in my life would be as honest with me as you just were.”

She smiles sheepishly, heat crawling up her neck.

“I’ll never be the friend who tells you what you want to hear, Nicholas, but I’ll always be the friend who tells you what you need to hear.”

He lets go of her, then, leans back with a calculating gaze, eyeing her up and down.

“So we friends now, you and I?”

She shrugs. “Whaddya think?”

He hums. “You called me a big fucking baby. Only friends get to do that.”

He holds out his large hand and she takes it, shaking it with a smile.

“Deal.”

She goes back to her place against the headboard and they sit in silence for a moment before she turns her head, smirks teasingly as she says, “I will say, though, you don’t look too happy for someone who’s freshly fucked.”

His guffaw is sudden, unexpected, but it makes her laugh along, refusing to be embarrassed by her rude remark.

“What even are you?” he asks her incredulously and she throws her head back, belly hurting from how funny he is.

“I’m just saying! No matter who it’s with, people usually glow after, and you looked like a kicked puppy when I found you.”

He scoffs, “Found me, yeah right,” he says, but locks eyes with her and winks.

“Yeah, well,” she muses.

“Sorry that a damper got put on my after-sex-glow and you couldn’t enjoy it, little missy!”

“Oh, so there was a glow?” she asks, teasing him but curious, her stomach tightening. She makes sure to keep her tone light and playful but there’s nothing she wants to know more than the details of how he fucks.

She’s an open girl, sexual and talkative, and despite people in the past trying to make her feel less than for it, she lives out her personality shamelessly, unapologetically.

His confirmation comes slow, thought-out.

“I’d say so, yeah. There always is when it’s good, isn’t there?”

She hums.

“So it was good, despite everything?”

The way he turns towards her is unhurried, deliberate, and she feels her pulse quicken, feels like she’s about to be scolded for her forwardness.

“What are you asking me there, missy?”

Gulping down her nervousness, she answers, “Look, even though I was hoping for it, I don’t think I’ll be finding anyone to share my bed with tonight, so the least I could do is… talk about it.”

He grins. “Someone had plans, huh?

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I like sex.”

“Talking about it, as well?”

Her inhale is deep as she thinks about how to word her thoughts.

“I like knowing what others like, how they view that act of intimacy. It’s one of my favorite topics.”

“You’re not a sellout, are you?” he questions, but the crinkles by his eyes show her he’s being humorous.

She rolls her eyes, delivering a swat to his arm.

“You’re not dumb enough to fall for shit like that, Nicholas.”

A beat passes before she hears his voice again, “Yeah, it was good. Always is with her, to be honest.”

“The familiarity of a long-term partner is unbeatable, isn’t it?”

He agrees.

“How’d you have her?”

“Fuckin’ hell, you just speak your mind, huh?”

She’s playing with a strand of her hair, picking at the split ends, she needs a haircut. She doesn’t want to come across as eager, so she shrugs yet again, glances at him.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to answer.”

“Nah,” he says, clicks his tongue before replying, “You can ask. I think I’m curious to see how your mind works, (Y/N).”

Her eyebrows raise in slight surprise, but she presses on.

“Good. So?”

The sheets rustle as he shifts, settles in so he’d be more comfortable, sprawling on the bed like it’s his own, like he owns the place. Their thighs are this close to touching and she wills herself not to focus on that too much, rather listening to what he says next.

“I never take her one way only,” he confesses, then, causes heat to lick up her spine. “We started kissing against the back of the couch, but I lost my patience quickly, I… I just had to fuck her.”

“So you took her from behind? Against the couch?”

“Nah, that came later,” he narrows his eyes as if he has to remember it, “I picked her up, that’s how we started.”

“With her legs around you?” He nods. “Just straight into it, no foreplay?”

He smirks, turns to her. “I tend to let my hands travel during make-out sessions, if you know what I mean.”

She exhales sharply. “Let’s say I don’t know, Nick.”

One thick brow of his rises teasingly, eyeing her.

“I had some fingers in her while we were kissing, (Y/N).”

“Damn, okay. How many is some?”

“You’re real fuckin’ curious, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off, I’m only human.”

She’s not even ashamed of her thirst for information, his words causing a movie to form in her head and she refuses to let a cliffhanger disappoint her.

“Two this time, I was impatient. Plus, I like her tight.”

She looks away, then, turns her head away from his so she could school her expression. His face is unreadable, charming smile in place, but his eyes give nothing away. It does little to settle the fire inside of her.

“Did you eat her out?”

“Later on, I did.”

What a mental image.

“Did she… go down on you?”

“Not this time.”

“Can she… can she take all of you?”

Nicholas’ eyes widen at her boldness before they glance down, looking at his own crotch. She follows his gaze, stupidly, but his pants are too loose, giving nothing away.

“She tries, but no. Nobody could before.”

It feels like her heart is going to jump out of her chest when suddenly Nicholas reaches up, wraps one hand around the front of her throat, eyeing it as if he’s inspecting it closely. He drives one finger over her hammering pulse point and chuckles before pulling away entirely.

“Yeah, maybe you could. You’d choke on it, though.”

“Cocky bastard, don’t fucking act like you don’t love that.”

He considers it for a moment.

“I don’t mind it. A hand in your hair, drilling into your throat, makes for some neat little sounds, I’m sure.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, gathering herself before pressing. “Then what? You fucked her standing up and then?”

“I carried her into her bedroom, took her missionary. I love that position, it’s so underrated.”

“It really is,” she agrees, a dreamy hush sneaking into her words. “The passion of it, the romance. Fucking eye-to-eye is not for the faint hearted.”

A laugh escapes him at that, and he looks at her, awe written all over his face.

“Yeah, exactly. Many variations of that, as well. My personal favorite is having her legs over my shoulders, I can get real deep that way.”

“Oh wow, that one’s good. Plus, it allows for room. I… I find it easiest to play with myself that way.”

The admission is very personal, she knows, but she deems it unfair to let him spill his guts while she gets to keep her secrets.

“Play with your clit, you mean?” She nods, bashful. “Do you always need to?”

“I don’t come without it,” she says, watches his brows furrow. “What?”

“Nobody’s ever made you come on his cock only?”

The way he says it, the word, the whole sentence, as if offended on her behalf, makes her pussy clench where it’s steadily leaking.

“I don’t know if I can,” she frowns, “not every woman can.”

“Every woman I fucked could, though,” he smirks, and she hides her flaming face behind her hands.

“You’re unbelievable, fuck,” she tells him, allows him his smug smirk, though. “Did she come untouched as well?”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Did she ask permission?”

He squints his eyes. “Permission…?”

Her mind is going into overdrive, hoping to God that she isn’t scaring him off but needing to share her deepest desire with him, needing to know his in turn.

“When I get fucked,” she starts, ignores the surprise in his face, “my orgasms aren’t mine, they’re his. Right? So, I always ask permission.”

“What if he says no?”

“Then I hold it.”

“Fuck,” he breathes and she watches, throat dry, as he reaches down to adjust himself in his pants unabashedly. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“Only with men I trust.”

She tears her eyes away from his crotch to look at him.

“Is there anyone like that in your life right now?” She shakes her head no. “Good.”

It takes all of the restraint she can muster up not to beg him for something, anything, right then and there, but she focuses on the story he owes her.

“How many times did you make her come?”

He thinks about it, shrugs. “Stopped counting at three.”

“Goddamn. How did you come?”

“Inside her, while she was riding me,” he smirks, paints the picture in her head so clearly, only that it isn’t a head full of brown hair that’s thrown back in ecstasy but-

“You asked if I ate her out?”

She’s scared to speak.

“…yes?”

“That’s when I did it, after. Cleaned her up nicely.”

She brings a hand up to her mouth and covers it, mind and heart racing.

“Did you- Nick, did you swallow your own load?”

Nicholas clicks his tongue, trails his eyes over her rapidly moving chest, locks his eyes on hers as he delivers one devastating blow, “Aw baby, don’t tell me you’re unfamiliar with getting a mouthful of come spat onto that pretty tongue.”

Delirium grips at her then, grabs her by the throat and doesn’t let go, takes control of her limbs and makes her straddle him quickly as he sits up to welcome her, grabs her and pushes her hips down into where he’s bucking his up. Nicholas’ tongue on her neck makes her moan, hot all over.

“I will ask you something and I want you to be honest with me,” he rasps, bites at her earlobe, “a truth for a truth, deal?”

“Yes, please-“

“When did you start thinking about you being the one taking my cock?”

“Fuck!” she exclaims with her hands tangled in his head, pulling a little, frustrated at being found out but relieved that he’s embracing it so openly. “When you talked about throwing her legs over your shoulders.”

“Good girl,” he says, nips at her collarbone as he holds her tight, “wanna know something? I stopped talking about what I did to her when you asked about her going down on me.”

“You lied?” she shrieks, outrage as fake as her restraint.

“I won’t disrespect her by divulging too much information, plus I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Clever fingers reach under her shirt to unclasp her bra, helping her out of her clothes so her upper body is bare.

“And, did you like it?”

“Fuckin’ loved it.”

He buries his face between her tits, squeezing them periodically, and she’s just about to beg for his cock when he looks up at her, apology written all over his face.

“I can’t fuck you, I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t even be touching you right now. Not until I know, for sure, where I’m at in life.”

The telltale burning behind her nose makes her want to scream, the sexual frustration overtaking her, but she reels herself in, albeit barely. Of course it hurts, being rejected like this, but she isn’t about to make things more complicated for him than they need to be. She’ll take what she can get from him, this could be her only chance.

“Fuck, that’s okay, Nick. I understand.”

“’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“Fuck,” she breathes before she pushes him back, eyes on him as he puts his hands behind his head, observes her as she tries to wiggle out of her jeans. “You don’t have to touch me, we can play some other way, no?”

Nicholas closes his eyes as if in pain, exhales deeply before they open again, jet-black gaze meeting hers. He nods.

“Get back here, baby,” he groans, and soon enough she’s perched on his lap again, fully naked while he’s still dressed, rubbing her center against the material of his pants.

“I’m dying to taste you,” she confesses, so close to tears it’s embarrassing, but with him she feels no shame.

The hands he’s got on her hips tighten as he looks up at her through his full eyelashes, something dark in his eyes.

“So am I, you’re fucking dripping for me.”

“And you’re hard for me,” she states, needs that equilibrium.

“All for you, (Y/N),” he breathes, bucks his hips up once more. “Dying to touch myself.”

“When was the last time you did?”

“This morning.”

She believes him, knows he’s done with games, and she can’t help but picture it: his broad wet back, droplets of water falling from his soaked hair, one strong arm flexing as his hand is moving up and down his cock, mouth agape but eyes shut in ecstasy. She wishes so badly to see it, to feel it.

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?”

She barks out a laugh, hips still rotating.

“Aren’t I always?”

“Imaginative little girl,” he smirks and it sounds like praise. “Wanna see how I do it? Wanna watch me fuck myself?”

The wanton moan that escapes her can’t be helped and she’s nodding her head vigorously, not trusting her voice.

“You too, though, yeah? You show me how you work that sweet little cunt, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you want… Take your cock out, please, Nick,” she whines, unable to stop her hands from shaking, from driving across her body, touching herself wherever she can reach.

He does as he’s told and soon enough his pants are down to his knees, cock hard and proud in his hand, the sight making her eyes water. It’s so thick that she knows exactly what it’d feel like deep within her.

“Touch yourself slowly, give yourself two,” he instructs, and she immediately obeys, nerves shot as she shoves two fingers into her dripping pussy.

“Jerk your dick with both hands, baby, but keep it tight. Pretend like it’s my mouth on you.”

“Spit on it, first,” he barks and she looks at him, wide eyed, sees how serious he’s being, before collecting a glob of spit on the tip of her tongue and letting it fall onto his cockhead. The way it slowly trails down before he drives his hand over it, slicks himself up so he can obey her better, makes her gut churn.

“’m so tight, so wet for you,” she cries out, riding her own fingers painstakingly slowly, wanting to do exactly as he tells her to. “And your dick is so fucking big, oh shit.”

“Glide your clit against two fingers, but keep it loose, don’t touch with the intent to come,” he tells her while his eyes are darting between her face and what she’s doing to her pussy, not wanting to miss a thing.

“You really are adamant about me coming from my spot only, huh?” she chuckles but does as he directs her.

“One day, I’ll train you to only come from that spot, fuck,” he spits, hand speeding up as she whines at his promise.

“Shit, my clit is so swollen, if I keep going like this, I’ll cum.”

“You can,” he says, grabs her ass cheek with one hand as he keeps working his dick with the other, “Come as many times as you’d like, as long as you can keep coming until I’m satisfied.”

She can’t look away from how he’s touching himself, confident in his body, jerking it tightly and switching between fast and slow strokes, his full balls following the motion. The need to have her mouth on them, lap at his full sac while he makes himself feel good, knocks the wind out of her.

“Play with your balls,” she whines, always whining desperately, “I need to see what that looks like.”

“Oh, yeah?” his hand leaves her skin as he grabs his balls, rolls them in his palm, moans at how hungrily she’s eyeing the scene before her. “They need to be drained so bad, (Y/N).”

“We’ll take care of that together, won’t we, baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” he growls, looking between her legs again. “Give yourself one more, I want you stretched.”

She does exactly that and moans around how full she feels, knowing that if it were him inside of her, it’d be even more overwhelming. Wishing he was shirtless, completely naked, she fucks herself hard, wanting to take her other hand and drive it along his torso but not daring to stop what he ordered her to do.

“May I come for you, please?” she gasps, hips bucking wildly. She’s not above begging, not for a man like him.

“Come for me, (Y/N),” he growls, taking his hands off himself to hold her up as she convulses with how hard her orgasm hits her, it’s been a few days since she last came. “Good fuckin’ girl, that was gorgeous, fuck.”

Nicholas’ praise gets to her, makes her flush down to her stomach and he notices, laughs wickedly as he pushes her up so she’d sit straight, takes her hand and motions for her to keep going.

“Not done with you yet, keep playing.”

“Fuck,” she winces as she touches her sensitive clit, swollen and hard and just on the right side of painful, but his wish is her command so she can’t help but do it. “Keep touching your cock, Nicholas. I wanna come to the sight of you close to my cunt.”

“God, you make me crazy,” he growls as he does just that, his tip this short of touching her pussy as he really goes for it, hand a blur with how fast he’s moving.

She’s got three fingers back inside of her but apart from the stretch it isn’t doing much for her, she knows he’d make it feel earth-shattering, though, would show her a completely new side of herself, and with that in mind she feels herself close to the edge again, panting.

“I’m fucking close again, oh my God-“

“You’re incredible, keep going, I’m right there.”

It puts a new kind of vigor inside of her and she moves and grinds and moans just how she thinks he’ll like it, puts on a show for him and when he starts whimpering, she knows she’s got him right where she wants him.

Or so she thinks.

She lets go first, wailing as it hits her, having wanted to share that moment with him but being unable to think as the coil inside of her snaps. Falling back onto the bed she pulls her knees to her chest, drives her fingers deep and comes hard.

“Spread your legs, let me mark you, huh?” comes his voice, snapping her out of her high, and without thinking twice she spreads her legs wide and gives him a clear view of her sloppy pussy, takes her hands away so he can shuffle between them, and it only takes him a few more pumps before he’s groaning, shooting string after string of his hot semen right onto her clit, making her shout.

It overstimulates her completely: the feeling of it, the sight of it, the way he claimed her without ever having been inside her.

Nicholas wouldn’t be Nicholas, she has learned, if he didn’t push her completely over the edge, and so through his hard breathing, with his impossibly deep voice, he demands, “Make yourself come one more time for me, baby. Fuck your clit with my come all over it, lemme see it.”

She does just that, but she feels like she passes out, because next thing she knows she’s got tears streaming down her face, his head hidden in her neck and shushing her, soothing her. The throbbing between her legs is barely noticeable through the ringing in her ears, and when he tells her to match her breathing to his, it takes her a while to comprehend.

“You back with me?” he smiles gently, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she nods shakily, not trusting her voice.

“That was… oh my God, Nicholas.”

He laughs, a soft sound, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know what came over me. Was all of that okay?”

“More than,” she says, needing to reassure him, grabs the hand that’s on her cheek and kisses each fingertip. “I… have never felt like that. Wow. So out of my body.”

“Me neither, I didn’t even know I could, well, do all of that.”

They take a moment of silence to just grin at each other stupidly, gathering themselves, and she feels a ping of hurt in her stomach at the prospect of letting him leave.

“Wanna… stay with me for the night? We’ll be good, I promise, but I just can’t be alone after all of that, Nicholas. I can’t.”

The kiss he presses to her shoulder is long, contemplative.

“I can’t leave right now, I’ll be honest. I feel like you’d fall apart if I did,” he smirks, dodges the swat she so badly aims in his direction. “Nah, and I wouldn’t be well, either. That was intense.”

“So… shower and cuddles?”

“And food, I’ll have to raid Cooper’s pantry.”

The party comes to mind again, she’s already forgotten about it. The people must have already left, it’s way too quiet in comparison to what it was when she came up here.

“Sounds great. But you’ll need to help me, I think my legs are jello.”

“Sorry not sorry,” cheeky bastard he is, but he helps her up and walks with her to the bathroom, starts the shower so it’d be hot when she gets in.

The mirror isn’t very kind to her, showing messy hair and ruined makeup, streaks of mascara running down to her neck where her tears were, but she’s got an unmistakable glow on her face, radiating satisfaction. Nicholas walks up next to her, hooks his head over her shoulder and grins.

“Now you look happily fucked out,” she comments, laughs when he slaps her ass once, not too hard.

“Thank you for that,” he whispers, kisses her shoulder. “I needed it.”

“So did I.”

Her honesty would scare her under normal circumstances, but this isn’t a normal circumstance. She steps into the shower and starts washing herself, wishing she could stay in his fluids for a little longer, rub them into her skin so she’d still know tomorrow that this night was real, but she settles for having him clean and comfortable next to her in bed. He watches her for a while before he exits the room, possibly in search of food, as he’s promised earlier.

She’ll have time for a spiral tomorrow. For now, she just looks forward to letting his breathing lull her into a deep sleep.

#mine #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas Alexander Chavez smut #nicholas Alexander Chavez x reader #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas Alexander Chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez smut #charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew #spencer cassadine #nicholas Alexander Chavez x you #fanfiction

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raz-writes-the-thing · 10 months ago

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Star-Crossed (Doctor Who One-Shot)

Eleventh Doctor x GN!Reader (fluff/angst)

Summary: You and the Doctor find out that neither of you are on the same page when it comes to defining your relationship.

EVERYTHING: @winchxters

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @stilestotherescue @madspads @catlynharper@merrilark @jaziona92 @yeehawbrothers @mochabonesblog @iguirisu @thegen3sisark @wereallbrokenangels @florduarte @pansexual-imp (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Star-crossed lovers. That's what people called the two of you. After you'd both averted some new catastrophe on a random moon or planet and the people you'd befriended on this particular adventure dragged you away to ask what it was like- travelling with the Doctor.

"It must be nice, travelling the stars with such a handsome partner."

"You're both so lucky to have each other."

"Tell us, is he a good kisser?"

On and on it went. Planet after planet, moon after moon. And you wish you knew if he was a good kisser or not. You wish you knew what it was like to cuddle under a ship window and listen to him tell you stories. You wish you knew what it was like to sleep next to each other and have him cuddle you back to sleep (if he slept at all, of course). All of these things and more, but from what you could tell- he just wasn't interested.

"Come on, now," the Doctor broke you from your sulking. You took a deep breath and looked over at him. "What's that face for? It's a new day, new adventure, new hijinks. We've got it made, you and me."

You forced a smile onto your lips, feeling incredibly overwhelmed by a lot of things right now.

"What face, Doctor? There's no face. Promise."

The Doctor clicked his tongue, brows furrowing disapprovingly at your very obvious lie. Abandoning his post by the console, the Doctor came to sit by you, throwing his arm over your shoulders comfortingly.

"All right," he acquiesced as you turned your head to face away from him. You craved this kind of physical affection from him, but it also hurt. A lot. "Pretend for a second that I believe you, what could I do to make your great day even better, hmm?"

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and suddenly the Doctor's thumb and forefinger were under your chin and turning your head towards him.

"What's wrong, Petal? I can't stand to see you hurt like this."

"I just- look, it's silly, but I get tired of hearing people mistake us for a couple all the time," you explained, eyes downcast. Then, the Doctor's arm was no longer around you and the cool of the TARDIS interior made you shiver.

Forcing yourself to make eye contact with him, you were very surprised and frightened to see hurt on his features. This confused you, and you reached for one of his hands which was currently picking at his nails anxiously.

"You don't want to be a couple anymore then?" He asked, struggling to not look away from you.

"Well, I-" you started and then abruptly stopped. "Anymore? What do you mean 'anymore'?"

Now the Doctor looked just as confused as you did. You could see the gears trying to turn in his brain but struggling.

"I've spent a great deal of my time around humans," the Doctor said, processing. "Do you mean to tell me... I've been considering us a couple going on four or five months and you didn't know?"

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. You were seeing error.exe messages in your mind's eye. What was happening right now?

"But- I- we've never even kissed?" You protested, windows computer noises playing over your brain as you tried to figure out how this miscommunication could have happened.

"I thought you wanted to take things slow," the Doctor answered.

You couldn't help it. You burst into laughter. Raucous, loud, boisterous laughter that filled the room and out into the hallways. The Doctor followed, little giggles that turned into full-bellied laughter in no time.

You couldn't believe the ridiculousness of the situation. How could he have thought that? How could you have thought he wasn't interested? Gods, there was a lot of miscommunication there that needed to be seriously looked at as some sort of Ripley's believe it or not record.

When you were able to stop your giggling long enough to take a breather, the Doctor took your hand.

"Given we didn't do this the right way the first time," he said, looking equally as mystified by the situation. "I feel it's my duty to ask... would you like to go out with me? Complete restart. From the beginning."

"Yes," you grinned, wiping the tears of laughter from your cheek with your shoulder. "I would love to go on a date with you."

"Excellent!" He exclaimed, jumping up and heading to the console. "Now, you go put something on. Something... fit for a nice dinner and a movie, and I'll put the coordinates in. Go on, off you pop."

You hopped up, feeling giddy with excitement. A fresh start, this was just what you needed. Maybe you were star-crossed lovers after all.

#doctor who #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #x reader #doctor who imagine #eleventh doctor imagine #doctor who drabble #matt smith #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #eleventh doctor x you #eleventh doctor x y/n #matt smith doctor #ms doctor #geronimo

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sp4ceboo · 1 month ago

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The Way You Were: Ken Sato x Reader

genre: the one who got away, canon universe, happens post movie, ANGST (gets resolved), fluff, romance, childhood sweethearts, healing old wounds

summary: in which you spot your long lost love from across the club, and he spots you. as he makes his way over to you, you can't help but wonder which side of him will greet you: the one you fell in love with, or the one who left scars all over your heart.

a/n: finally i get to pull this one out of the vault. it's very unlike my normal writing but i'm still very proud of it, pls give it some love :))

tw: no smut just feelings, mentions of sex tho, heavy making out and a bit of grinding, one (1) briefly mentioned hard on, mentions of breakup, crying, ridiculously angsty at the beginning, ridiculously soft, ridiculously nostalgic, lurve lurve lurveeee

wc: 3.7k

If she’s real, Fate sure has a cruel sense of humour.

There’s no other explanation to why Kenji Sato, a man so deeply intertwined into your past, a man you’d tried so many times to extract from where he was embedded into your soul, stands across the club, his back to you.

You know the smile that softens his angular features before he even turns around. You know those hand gestures, that oozing nonchalance, that false cockiness, and yet, all the same, you don’t know who this man is at all - you know the old Kenji Sato, the one who would wait awkwardly for you after class, the one who gripped your hands nervously while watching the baseball championships, the one who kissed softly you under the bleachers.

The one who got away.

Years have passed since those nostalgia sweetened memories. You have no idea how much of that old Ken is left, or if he’s transformed himself into an invincible stranger, one without those insecurities and weaknesses that made him your Ken.

It had started with wide eyed firsts at seventeen years old: kisses stolen between lessons, hands fumbling over each other’s bodies in the dark of his bedroom. By the time Ken was scouted by a baseball team, it had turned into something more solid: the two of you were star crossed lovers, and you fit together perfectly - until you didn’t any more.

You’re not exactly sure who changed. Maybe it was both of you, but you felt the absence of the awkward, lanky teenage boy more acutely than anything else, for he was not your highschool crush any more, but a man who felt the pressure of his reputation as much as the weight of the baseball bat in his hands. He became cocky to hide his fears from you, as if you could ever see him as weak.

The more the baseball critics talked, the less Ken did.

He hated it when you prodded him, when you tried to get past the walls that had been erected overnight. You loved him, even when half the time he came home drunk and damningly silent, his eyes narrowed and his knee bouncing when you could say nothing in response to the sceptics’ articles. You tried to hold on to him, but in the end it was inevitable.

The love of your life slipped from between your slack fingers like the sands of time, and all you could do was watch - all you could do was become increasingly aware of how the two of you had been acting like stupid, starry eyed kids.

When it ended, he was vicious with the same strength of an animal on the verge of death, and you took it all, bearing the pain and the hurt because maybe it was your fault that you hadn’t seen it coming sooner.

When it ended, the sorrow felt as if you had just passed off the opportunity to have your soul completed.

When it ended, it broke you.

It broke you, and he disappeared. He removed himself from your life with surgical precision, as if to prove to the spectators that he didn’t need you and the warm baths you drew when he came back from a game or the softness of your hands or your loyalty, your never wavering faith in him that no one else even tried to pretend they had.

You didn’t even realise he’d left Los Angeles behind for the greener pastures of Tokyo baseball until you recognised him on your TV screen years later.

And now, you’re in the same room as him.

Had your friends chosen a different club or had you stayed home, had you not taken that job in Tokyo almost two years ago, you might have never seen him again. Or maybe Fate would have twisted your paths together anyways, if just for a laugh; maybe he would have gone back to visit his mum and bumped into you on the street, maybe he would have reached out over text. Maybe, whatever path you took, he’d still be weaving his way towards you through the crowd like he is now.

You can see his face now. He’s taken off his reflective shades - they’re tucked into the neck of his black tee, hanging just above the simple gold necklace that sits at the dip of his collarbones. His build is as lean as it ever was, but you can tell he’s gotten stronger, his shoulders broader; his face has slimmed down, matured, lost the last of the baby fat he still had when he was twenty, yet his eyes are the same bright ones that you used to get lost in.

You wonder if he’s changed from the Ken that you couldn’t keep beside you however hard you tried. You wonder if he’s become the cocky, mean Ken who you saw the makings of, that would be walking towards you now just to get in your pants and one up you out of spite, so he could prove you mean nothing to him now (worse, you wonder if you’d let him, just to hold him one more time).

He stops in front of you, and although his expression is soft and surprisingly open, you can’t help but doubt it, can’t help but hide your heart deeper in your chest so he can’t snatch it for himself as easily as he’d done before.

Ken’s lips tilt upwards, but it’s not a smile yet. “Hey.”

You stare at him. You haven’t seen him in years, and the empty space between the last time you saw him and now is so starkly obvious. He’s gotten taller, somehow, and there’s an ease to his confidence that wasn’t there before; you can smell some sort of fancy cologne on him and although there’s bags under his eyes, of course he looks fucking divine.

Yes, Fate has a cruel sense of humour.

Very cruel, and not funny at all when you’re the butt of the joke and when the man before you makes you want to cry as much as the last time you laid your eyes on him. You’ve never sobbed, wept, the way you did when he turned his back on you as he left, cold and unreachable and never to be seen again - until now.

“Hello, Kenji,” you reply stiffly.

He winces. “Not even Ken, huh?”

Mutely, you nod, not knowing what else to say when all you can think about is whether his embrace still feels as comforting as it did all those years ago. You think it might, with those shoulders as broad as the ocean.

“Back to strangers, then?”

You swallow. “No. I’d - I’d like to think I still know who you are.”

“Me too,” he sighs.

“Not sure it’s possible, but I guess it would do us good to start over,” you admit with a dry smile.

“I don’t think so,” he says, voice soft, words slow. “It hurt - I hurt you, but I wouldn’t want to lose all the good parts.” His eyes meet yours, and there is so much in them - almost too much. “Remember that one camping trip?”

Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“And when we went ice skating?”

You can hear what he’s saying, the meaning beneath those words. He’s asking if you remember the tender nights, when you held each other, swaddled in the soft blanket of youth; he’s asking if you remember feeling that magnetic tug in your soul when you touched. He’s asking if you remember how you loved him - how he loved you.

“Never said I was going to be good at that,” you huff, cracking a smile.

“And how we used to go to the playground near your house after parties?”

This time, you chuckle. “Can you imagine? You look out the window and there are two deranged teenagers trying to squeeze down the slide at three in the morning.”

Ken throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, loud enough that you can hear it over the pumping music of the club, and the sound hurls you right back into the past. You’ve heard that sound so many times, you’ve replayed it in your head as a longing memory, and now he’s here, in the flesh, and all you can do is try to fight the tears welling in your eyes.

Turning your head, you look away, painting a smile on because you don’t want him to see you cry. Of course he notices - he always did, even though there were times where he would pretend he didn’t - but this time, he faces it head on, placing a gentle hand on your arm, light enough for you to shake off if you want to. All it does is make you want to cry harder.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah?”

With a hand at the small of your back, Ken leads you out of the club and down a few streets until he can sit you down on a park bench; he plops down beside you, not touching you but not far away, either. The night air is gelid compared to the club, nipping at your cheeks, and he waits quietly until you can meet his eyes again, his gaze steady as he searches yours.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, then swallows thickly and steels himself. “I’m sorry I treated you like shit. I never - “ He pauses when you sit up a little straighter. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m listening. I… I’d like to know how you feel.”

Slowly, Ken nods and swallows again. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, deepening his cheekbones and limning his skin, and you watch him struggle with his words for a moment. You watch as he prepares to tear down walls that are years old for you, while you wonder what has changed him that he is so willing to try to bare his soul to you in a way he never could back then, what shifted while you slowly became strangers.

Gently, you reach out to take his hand to find his already waiting. Stroking a thumb over his knuckles as he works his jaw, finding words, you wait, letting him formulate his sentences; you know it is as hard for him as it is for you to be so close, and yet something in you burns with the hope of new beginnings.

“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t want me if I showed any weakness that I locked myself away, and - and that wasn’t what you deserved,” he chokes out. “I was all wrapped up in myself and too fucking stupid and stubborn to even crawl back. I’m sorry for the things I said to you, called you that night, and I’m sorry I can’t take them back.” He takes a shaky breath. “I took you for granted and hurt you, and I should have never - ”

“No,” you cut in. “The blame isn’t just on you, Ji. I - I should have fought so much harder for us. I saw what the pressure did to you, what the sceptics said, and I did nothing. At that point I may as well have warmed my hands in the fire they used to burn you at the stake with. I fucked up. We fucked up. I’m sorry, too.”

When you look up at him, he’s smiling. A tear slips down his face, and he catches it with the back of his hand; you’re not sure how you’ve held your own back for so long, but now they fall as you fall towards each other, his arms wrapping tight around you as he envelops you. You were right - his embrace is as comforting as it was, and a lump forms in your throat because beneath his cologne you smell his familiar scent, the scent of home.

You stay tucked together, sheltering in each other’s arms for a while. Eventually, he shifts, pulling back a little as his hand brushes over your hair. His eyes are soft, bright like they always were; you think you like this Kenji Sato, who is so similar yet so different to the boy you knew from highschool in LA.

You think you’re falling in love again.

No, not quite; you never stopped loving him.

That revelation almost makes you cry again, but instead you smile at him, and when he returns your expression you feel something mending deep within your heart, knitting itself together after being rent apart for so long. The way he looks at you is tender enough, raw enough, to make old wounds heal.

“Let me help you get back home,” Ken bids you. “I can call a cab?”

“We can walk,” you offer. “It’s not too far.”

“What brought you to Tokyo?” Ken asks as the two of you enter the lift up to your apartment.

“I came here almost two years ago,” you reply. “My company had a big office here and when they gave me the choice to move here or London, I chose here. I don’t really know why, exactly. Everyone says it’s always raining in the UK, and, well, at that point I knew you were here. I didn’t think we’d ever meet but at least there wouldn’t be an ocean between us.”

“Oh, so you’ve been waiting for this to happen for two years?” He teases as you turn the key in your door.

Rolling your eyes, you herd him into your flat before becoming serious again. “No, Ji, I didn’t even understand if I wanted to see you again. You were my first love, and deep down, I, I still lo - ”

Abruptly, you cut yourself off. Ken’s eyes have widened almost comically, but you find you can’t laugh at him with the sincerity of your words still hanging in the air; the pound of your heart in your chest is too loud, like it’s trying to break free of your ribcage. Maybe, to him, you’ve changed as much as he has to you, and he hadn’t been expecting you to so freely confess that you still feel that inexplicable pull of your soul towards his.

Biting your lip, you scurry across your kitchen and open the fridge door, if only to give yourself a barrier to hide behind. Did you just ruin everything? You didn’t even ask if he wanted to come in, you just ushered him into the flat, and although he offered to walk with you and come up in the lift with you, maybe he was just being polite.

“Want anything to drink?” Your voice comes out higher than it should as you turn to glance at him over your shoulder. “O - oh.”

He’s right there. You hadn’t expected him to follow you to the fridge, although you know now that this new, mature Kenji is in tune with your emotions, could definitely sense your embarrassment, and isn’t afraid to face it, yet also that he is the same as the old Kenji - just with his sharp edges softened and a bit more wisdom under his belt.

“Sorry, I didn’t…” He trails off.

You’re staring. You can’t help it. He’s so close that your head is spinning and you haven’t fully appreciated how good his hair looks tonight, sleek and half falling into his eyes, nor the flawless way his black t-shirt fits his arms and shoulders, nor the absurdly perfect bridge of his nose and how it complements his cheekbones and -

You realise with a jolt that he’s staring too. That his eyes just darted from yours down to your lips and back up again, that he’s leaning closer and closer to you until you’re sharing air, and that you really, really, really want him to take your clothes off.

Ken Sato takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and kisses you.

His fingers slide to cup your jaw, his other hand finding your waist and pulling your body closer to his, your lips moving against his in a way that is so achingly familiar; he nips and sucks at your lower lip and you don’t think you could ever get bored of kissing him like this. Running your palms up his back, you bunch your fingers in his shirt - like hell you’re going to let him go, now that you’ve found him again, like hell you’re going to let him even think about walking out while he’s got his tongue moving against yours like this.

Gliding down your sides, his big hands settle at your hips and squeeze. You curse against his soft lips and he dips his head to mouth at your throat, right over your jugular, his nose drawing a line down your skin before he travels lower, his tongue laving along your collarbone. Fumbling to close the fridge door behind you, you steady yourself with a palm on the handle. Fuck, your knees haven’t felt this weak in a while.

You realise that all this time, all those years spent without him, this is what you were missing, searching for it even if you didn’t know it. The way he navigates your body is effortless, as if you’ve only been apart for a few days and not a few years. He knows to kiss you at the hollow of your neck, he knows to cup your waist in his hands, he knows how to drown you in him in a way that still leaves you hungry.

Sighing into his mouth, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt, bringing them round to feel the hard planes of his chest under your palms. Unhurriedly, you drag your nails down his abs, hooking your fingers in his waistband and tugging him closer; he groans in response, biting down on your shoulder, and you feel him, hard against you as you lean into each other.

“Fuck, Ji,” you gasp as he rocks his hips into yours.

Cursing, he grits out your name, and you tug at his shirt - he pulls away, just long enough for you to wrestle it off him before he’s crowding against you again, as if he can’t bear to not touch you. A smirk tugs at your mouth as you run your hands appreciatively over his torso, over his sculpted chest and arms.

Maybe it’s the touch of your lips on his skin, right over his heart, or maybe it’s the way your hands coast over him, eager to feel all of him, that sends a jolt through him. Ken grabs your wrists, halting your progress, and you look up at him, quizzical.

“Wait,” he breathes. “We, I… we can’t do this the same way we did this last time.”

You blink, mind still foggy with wanting. “Ji?”

He cups your face. “It’s not that I don’t want you, my love, it’s the opposite. I’m not going to let myself just fuck you and go to sleep. I haven’t seen you in years. I - I need you to know I’m not here just for that. I want to take my time with you.”

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with what he said. You gaze up at him, drinking up those sparkling eyes, feeling the gentle way he positions his hands on you, one cradling your chin and the other holding your waist, and realise that you’re seeing your Ken Sato - grown, yes, but still yours, eternally yours.

What he’s saying is right. The old you would have jumped straight into his arms, and he would have let you - you would have spoken with your bodies, not your words, leaving the tears and rips in your hearts to fester and rot, never acknowledging them for long enough for them to heal.

But somehow, Fate has gifted you a second try at love, and this time, the two of you will do it the way it should be done; he’s looking at you so tenderly, so hopefully, and it makes your stomach flutter. There’s no rush. Now you’ve got him in your arms again, you won’t be letting him go.

You brush his hair out of his eyes. “Okay, then. Shall we talk instead?”

He smiles. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

The lens you see the world through after that night with Kenji makes everything brighter, more beautiful. You find new appreciation for the ads of him plastered all over the city when he tells you funny stories behind the shoots, for the way the littlest things make you think of him, for the regular date nights and the hours you spend staying up late, talking with him.

For a famous baseball player, he sure has a lot of time for you.

He hangs on to your every word, looking at you as if you hung the stars in the sky; he listens to your rants about work and your favourite show and your fucking landlord. You make sure you show up to his baseball matches, cheering whether he’s winning or losing, knowing that he’ll be in your arms the moment he’s off the pitch.

You watch him open up to you like a flower leaning towards the sun, his words muffled as he rests his head on your shoulder late at night and tells you how his mum disappeared, how he used to avoid his dad but how recently they’ve gotten closer after they found some common ground.

And when he tells you what that common ground was - a bright pink, baby kaiju - everything falls into place.

Finally, you understand what changed him on his course, what softened him after the critics forced him to build walls: a baby as cute as her size, and a secret life as Ultraman. You kissed him when he told you, melting the tension right off his wide shoulders as you whispered against his lips that you’d love him even if he confessed to eating your leftovers (he had).

It’s not perfect, because love isn’t, but on the nights when you’re tucked into each other beneath the blankets, fitting together like puzzle pieces as you kiss his scars, you know that this time round, you’re doing love right.

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oldsoul007 · 4 months ago

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who’s the cute boy with the white jacket

nicholas chavez x singer!reader

summary: y/n comes out with a hit new single and fans have their suspicions who it’s about…

I had always poured my heart into my music, but this time, it was different. I had written an interesting song that came straight from my soul, every note and lyric echoing my feelings for Nicholas. Who I had an interesting relationship with. The song quickly became a hit, and my fans couldn't help but speculate that it was about him.

Nicholas, being the observant and thoughtful friend he was, started noticing the buzz. One evening, after a long day of filming, he decided he couldn't ignore it any longer. He needed to know the truth. He called me and asked to meet me in at his apartment.

When I sat down, Nicholas didn't waste any time. "Y/n, I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me. The new song you wrote... everyone is saying it's about me. Is it true?"

I felt my heart race as I looked into his eyes. I had never intended for him to find out this way, but there was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. "Yes, Nicholas. The song is about you. Writing that song was my way of expressing what I couldn't say out loud."

Nicholas sat back, absorbing my words. He had always cared deeply for me, but hearing my confession made him realize just how much she meant to him. "Y/n. Now that I know, I can't pretend I don't feel the same way. I've always admired you, not just as a friend, but as someone truly special to me."

The weight of unspoken emotions lifted between them, and for the first time, me and Nicholas faced the possibility of a future together, our bond stronger than ever.

I stepped onto the stage, my heart pounding with anticipation. The lights dimmed, and the audience fell silent, waiting for the first notes of my new album. I was dressed in a stunning vintage outfit, complete with a classic 1950s silhouette that perfectly complemented the retro vibe of my music, with a twist of my personality.

As the first song began, my voice filled the room, rich and emotive. The crowd was instantly captivated, swaying and singing along to the nostalgic melodies. Each song seemed to transport them back in time, and it was clear that I had struck a chord with my audience.

In the middle of my set, Lauren glanced out into the crowd and spotted Nicholas. He was standing near the front, his eyes locked on me, completely mesmerized. His admiration was palpable, and it gave me an extra boost of confidence. I smiled, knowing he was there, supporting my every step of the way.

As the final notes of my last song faded, the audience erupted into applause. People were on their feet, cheering and shouting for more. Y/n took a deep bow, my heart swelling with gratitude and joy.

But the excitement didn't end there. Someone in the crowd recognized Nicholas and pointed him out. A wave of whispers and camera flashes followed, as fans realized that the charming actor was there, completely smitten with the star of the night.

Nicholas didn't shy away; instead, he beamed with pride, clapping and cheering louder than anyone else. The sight of him so obviously in awe of y/n added to the magic of the evening. It was a moment neither of them would forget—a night where y/n talent shone brightly, and Nicholas's love and admiration were on full display for everyone to see.

I decided to have Nicholas Chavez in my music video, me and Nicholas are portrayed as star-crossed lovers in a glamorous, retro setting. The video opens with me singing in an elegant, dimly lit jazz club, my eyes occasionally drifting to Nicholas, who sits at a table, watching me intently.

As the song progresses, the scenes shift to more intimate moments. We share a slow dance under twinkling lights, our bodies close and movements synchronized. The camera captures our stolen glances and subtle touches, creating a palpable tension.

In another scene, we’re in a vintage convertible, driving through a city at night. The wind tousles my hair as Nicholas steals a glance at me, his affection evident. We stop at a secluded spot, where me share a tender moment, leaning in as if to kiss, but pulling back just enough to leave the audience yearning for more.

The video culminates in a dramatic rooftop scene, where we finally give in to their emotions. Under the moonlight, we share a passionate kiss, sealing our connection. The final shot fades out with us holding each other, the city skyline behind us, leaving fans captivated by our undeniable chemistry.

After months of subtle hints and soft launches, the night had finally arrived. Me and Nicholas were about to debut our relationship at a high-profile red carpet event. The air was electric with anticipation as we stepped out of the limousine, the flash of cameras capturing every moment.

I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Nicholas, sensing my unease, gently squeezed my hand. "We've got this," he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine with unwavering support.

As we walked down the red carpet, the crowd's reaction was immediate. Whispers and gasps filled the air as people recognized us together, looking every bit the perfect couple. My stunning dress and Nicholas's sharp suit complemented each other flawlessly, creating a picture-perfect moment.

Reporters eagerly called out our names, asking for comments and photos. Nicholas wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. "We're here together," he said confidently, his voice steady. "And we couldn't be happier."

I smiled, my heart swelling with a mix of love and pride. I leaned into Nicholas, feeling the warmth of his embrace. The months of soft launches had led to this magical moment, and it was everything she had hoped for and more.

As they posed for photos, Nicholas's admiration for y/n was evident to everyone. His eyes never left her, filled with genuine affection and pride. The red carpet debut was not just a public declaration of their relationship but a testament to the deep connection they had built over time. Y/n, it was the beginning of a new chapter, one filled with love and endless possibilities.

#Spotify #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholaschavezimagines #nicholas chavez x y/n #sabrina carpenter #singer

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frostdayz · 7 months ago

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its you in my dreams i find

Aegon x reader (f! reader)

Genre: angst (mwuahahahha I will die on this hill but angst is so much better than fluff)

summary: Aegon is betrothed to his sister but his heart belongs to someone else. With his wedding only mere seconds away he goes to find you just to see your face one last time. (time jump included)

wrds: 2.63k

note: I saw this one quote on twitter and I just had to use it. Anyways so this has 3ish parts? The story + aegon and readers pov when they see each other again I made them different so it can also be little stand-alones! Enjoy :)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Today, Aegon would wed his sister, cementing alliances and securing the Targaryen bloodline. The air was filled with the sounds of celebration, but my heart felt heavy with sorrow.

I slipped away from the festivities, making my way through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. My feet carried me to a secluded chamber where Aegon and I had often met in secret, away from the prying eyes of the court. It was here that we could be ourselves, if only for a brief moment.

When I entered, he was already there, his regal attire a stark contrast to the vulnerable expression on his face. He looked up as I approached, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain.

"Y/N," he breathed, closing the distance between us. He took my hands in his, holding them tightly as if he could anchor himself to me in the storm of his duty.

"My love," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He nodded, his grip tightening. "I know. But before I walk down that aisle, I needed to see you. I need to remind myself of what truly matters."

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked up at him. "You do not have to do this. We could run away, leave this place behind."

He shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "You know I cannot. My duty to my family and the realm binds me. But my heart... my heart belongs to you."

I choked back a sob, the reality of our situation crashing down on me.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You are mine, Y/N. In every way that matters, you are mine. This marriage is a formality, a duty. But my love for you is real, and it will never be changed."

I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes to savor the warmth of his hands. "I can't bear the thought of you with her. Your sister is kind but I cannot fathom the thought you bedding another woman."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I won't be. Not in the way you fear. My heart, my soul, they are yours. Always."

For a moment, we stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace in the closeness that would soon be taken from us. The world outside could not touch us here, in this stolen moment of love and loss.

"I have known you since we were children," Aegon murmured, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "You are a part of me, Y/N. This throne compares not to you or this out of body feeling I have when your eyes meet mine. What we have is something people look for all their lives.

I clung to him, my heart breaking with the knowledge that this might be our last meeting. "Promise me you'll never forget."

He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes with an intensity that took my breath away. "I promise. You will forever be tethered to me and I to you."

The sound of distant bells reached our ears, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. Our time was running out.

"I have to go," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But know this, Y/N: When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find."

With one last lingering kiss, he turned and left the chamber, leaving me alone with my sorrow. I watched him go, my heart shattering with every step he took.

As I made my way back to the shadows, I clung to his words, finding strength in the love we shared. We were star-crossed lovers, bound by fate and duty, but our love was a flame that could not be extinguished.

And though the path ahead was filled with heartache, I knew that as long as I held onto his promise, I could endure anything. Aegon might be bound by duty, but his heart was mine, and that knowledge would sustain me through the darkest of days.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Readers pov:

Years had passed since I last saw Aegon. The world had moved on, and so had I, or so I told myself. Life in King's Landing was unpredictable, but I had found my place in it, working at a modest inn and living a life free from the court politics and royal intrigues.

One evening, as I laughed with a kind man who had become a close friend, I felt an inexplicable pull. The inn was bustling with activity, filled with the noise of patrons enjoying their evening, but suddenly, it felt as if everything had quieted. I glanced towards the entrance, and there he was.

His presence was unmistakable, even after all these years. He stood in the doorway, his fine clothes setting him apart from the crowd. But it wasn't just his appearance that drew my attention; it was the look in his eyes. A mixture of surprise, longing, and sadness.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Memories flooded back—our secret meetings, the stolen kisses, the whispered promises. All of it came rushing back in a torrent of emotion that left me breathless. But as I looked at him, I realized something had changed. He was still Aegon, but there was a heaviness about him now, a burden that he carried with every step.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The noise of the inn faded into the background, and all I could see was him. But then I remembered where we were, who we were. He was a king now, married to his sister, bound by duty and responsibility. And I was a part of his past, a chapter that had ended long ago.

I forced a smile, turning back to my friend, trying to push the memories aside. I laughed at some sill story he has told 100 times, though I didn't hear the words. I could still feel Aegon's gaze on me, a tangible weight that pressed down on my heart.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him take a step forward, as if he intended to come over. My breath caught in my throat, a part of me yearning for him to close the distance, to bridge the years that had kept us apart. But then he stopped. I saw the conflict in his eyes, the war between his heart and his sense of faithfulness to the crown.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of his crown pressed down even harder. He watched me for a moment longer, his eyes reflecting a world of unspoken words and lost dreams. Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.

I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I watched him go, my heart aching with a mixture of love and resignation. Aegon had chosen his path, and I had chosen mine. Our lives had diverged, and though our love had been real and deep, it was now a memory, a beautiful, bittersweet memory.

My friend noticed my silence and gave me a concerned look. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I wiped away the tear, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought for a moment."

He nodded, accepting my answer without pressing further. As the evening wore on, I tried to push thoughts of Aegon aside, focusing on the present, on the life I had built for myself. But deep down, I knew that a part of me would always belong to him, just as a part of him belonged to me.

And though our love had been strong, it was now a whisper in the wind, a memory that would forever linger in the corners of my heart.

And so, I laughed and smiled with my friend, cherishing the moments of joy and companionship that life had given me. But every now and then, when I lay down for bed and closed my eyes, it was Aegon I saw in my dreams, a reminder of a love that could never be, yet would never fade.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Aegon's pov:

I often found myself lost in thoughts of Y/N, the woman who had stolen my heart and whose absence left an unfillable void. The memory of her was a constant companion, a nostalgic reminder of what could never be.

The day had started like any other, filled with the mundane and the ceremonious. My friends, eager to lift my spirits, convinced me to join them for a walk through the streets of King’s Landing. The bustle of the city was a welcome distraction from the confines of the Red Keep and the duties that awaited me there.

We strolled through the market, the vibrant colors and the mingling scents of spices and roasted meats filling the air. The sound of laughter and chatter was a stark contrast to the solemnity of the court. As we turned a corner, my heart suddenly lurched in my chest.

There she was, Y/N, standing at a vendor’s stall, examining a piece of fabric with a smile on her face. She looked radiant, more beautiful than I remembered. Time had been kind to her, and seeing her now, happy and carefree, was both a joy and a knife to my heart.

She was not alone. Beside her stood a man, laughing at something she had said. The sight of them together was a sword to the heart. I felt a surge of jealousy and sorrow, emotions I had no right to feel. She had moved on, found happiness in a new life, and I was a mere shadow in the new world she made for herself.

My friends continued their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me. I watched as the man leaned in closer to Y/N, his hand resting on her arm. She laughed again, the sound a melody I had longed to hear for so long. But it was not meant for me anymore.

I knew I should turn away, leave her to her happiness, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Every fiber of my being wanted to rush to her, to hold her and tell her that I had never stopped loving her. But what right did I have to disrupt her life? She deserved happiness, and if this man could give her that, then who was I to interfere?

“When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find,” I murmured under my breath, a silent reminder of the words I spoke to the woman I love from the last moment we met.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to step back, to let go. My friends were moving on, and I needed to follow. But as we walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Y/N was still laughing, her eyes shining with a light that had once been reserved for me.

As painful as it was, seeing her happy was a balm to my soul. Knowing that she had found joy, even without me, gave me a strange sense of peace. Our love had been real, and it would always be a part of me, but it was time to let her go.

Back in the confines of the Red Keep, I found myself standing on the balcony, staring out over the city. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the rooftops. I thought of Y/N, somewhere out there, living her life, and I whispered a silent prayer for her happiness.

“I will always love you, Y/N,” I said softly to the wind. “But I’m glad you’ve found your own path.” A soft smile lingering on my lips.

As the first stars appeared in the twilight sky, I made my way back inside. Y/N would always be in my heart, a cherished memory, and knowing she was happy was enough to carry me through the darkest of days.

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #game of thrones #aegon x reader #aegon angst #king aegon #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader #hotd #aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii x reader #a song of ice and fire

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frantic-fiction · 9 months ago

Text

What Once Was

Pic credit: iiven

Astarion x gn!reader/ gn!Tav

Summary: Astarion and you decided it was best to remain friends, following the fall of the Absolute, Astarion finds he is regretting letting you go.

Warnings: Angst, Angst with a happy ending, Astarion being bad with communication, Astarion is bad with feelings

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

"Astarion," Tav whispers, their breath warm against his ear as their fingers trail down his forearm, nails lightly scraping the surface. Hesitantly, they intertwine their hand with his. Their warm doe eye pierces straight into his, and he feels vulnerable under the intense stare. "I care about you, but maybe what you need right now is a friend, not a lover."

Astarion freezes his body still as a marble statue. Inside, his mind is a storm of confusion. Emotions he barely remembers flood him, swirling in a chaotic whirl that leaves a sharp ache in his chest. He gripped Tav's hands as if they alone were the sole thing keeping him bound to the material plane. Maybe in that moment, they were.

A friend?

When was the last time Astarion had a genuine friend? He doesn't know, but somehow, the word seems too mundane to describe the beautiful person in front of him. Tav, the first creature in 200 years of agony, showed him kindness and love, showing him that he was more than the mindless puppet Cazador molded him to be.

The topic was too heavy to unpack fully at that moment. Astarion had just tasted freedom. He was free of that monster and was learning what it meant to live again. He was too confused and broken to figure everything out, and so what more could he have said?

"I-I would like that."

***

A thunderous round of knocks pounds against the front door, jolting Astarion from his novel; he exhales a long, heavy sigh, flipping the page as he sinks deeper into his armchair. The crackling fire provides a once comforting backdrop, now barely audible over the persistent knocking. He tries to ignore it, his eyes skimming the lines without truly reading. But it's becoming harder by the second.

"Astarion!" Your voice is slightly muffled from behind the door. "Are you seriously going to leave me out here in the cold?"

"Where's the key I gave you?" Astarion calls out; his voice tinged with irritation. He remains firmly in his chair.

You're quiet for a moment. "I may have lost it, b-but it's not my fault, I swear!"

Astarion clicks his tongue, tossing the novel onto the side table, and moves to the door. "If only the history books knew the real hero of Baldur's Gate instead of their exaggerated grandeur." Unlatching the bolt, Astarion swings open the door with a smirk. You stand impatiently on his doorstep, arms crossed over something, lips puffed out in a pout. "If the world knew the real you, I doubt you'd have many admirers singing your praises."

You push past him, pressing a warm jar into his chest as you go. "You're just jealous I'm famous and adored. Now stop being mean to the only friend who puts up with you, you grump."

Astarion's heart clenches as he stares at the jar of blood in his hands. He watches absently as you flit around the room, tidying up the minimal mess he's accumulated since your last visit.

Friend.

The word stings like sunlight on his skin. A rock settles deep in his stomach at the reminder.

Astarion has many regrets, but letting you slip through his fingers is the one that haunts him most. If he could go back, he would pull you into his arms and never let go. He would whisper how much he loves you and beg for time because he can't imagine facing the darkness without his light.

But it is too late for that because how do you ask someone as bright and full of life as you to return to someone as broken and doomed to the shadows as him? Astarion has to settle for the barest comfort your friendship can offer him despite the pain that comes with it.

"Hey, Star, could you sew this button back on after your meal?"

Your melodic voice pulls Astarion back. He turns and heads to the kitchen, where you are already seated. It's only then that Astarion truly takes in your appearance.

Gods, you're beautiful. You're wearing clothes that perfectly accentuate your body, stirring a sense of longing in Astarion. You're even wearing the delicately embroidered scarf he hand-crafted for you last winter. Why did he let you go?

Astarion swallows hard and retrieves a chalice from the cabinet. "Of course, my dear."

"Thank you! I can't believe I popped a button."

Astarion pours the blood into a glass, watching the deep red liquid swirl as if it's the most captivating sight. His eyes flicker up briefly before darting back down. He asks carefully, unsure if he wants to hear the answer.

"What's the occasion?"

You drop your chin, a bashful smile tugging at your lips. You fiddle with the fallen button, spinning it on the table before slapping your hand over it and repeating the action.

Astarion takes a sip and waits. The sweetness of your blood coats his tongue, and he savors the mouthful. It's nothing compared to drinking from the source, but you felt it was best to do it this way. You said the prior act felt too intimate for two friends and blurred too many lines, and Astarion felt he had no place to voice opposition.

He takes another quick mouthful, knowing he only has so much time to savor the blood before it congeals into an unpalatable gel.

"I-I have a date."

Astarion chokes on the blood, pulling the glass from his lips as a fit of violent coughs overtakes him. An unsettling feeling churns in his stomach, making him feel like vomiting, but it's not from the burning in his throat.

"Is it really that surprising that someone would ask me out?" You scoff, taking Astarion's coughing as an act of humor rather than the painful surprise he's currently feeling.

"No-" Astarion wheezes through another round of coughs. "That's not-"

You come over and smack his back harshly. Astarion's unsure if it's to help him or express your anger, but the pounding against his back seems to finish his fit.

"I thought vampires couldn't choke," you mumble under your breath. He can hear the annoyance drip from each syllable.

"I am quite the unique spawn, it would seem." Astarion wheezes, slumping into the chair you were previously sitting in. You opt to lean against the counter away from him. "So… who is the special lady or gentleman who has captured the hero's attention?"

Astarion cringes at the hollowness in his voice. He doesn't care to hear the answer, and it's obvious. He doesn't care to hear you gush about whoever has captured your heart and will whisk you away tonight, ripping the last sliver of you he has left.

"Don't pretend to care." You glare, a scowl stealing away your beautiful smile.

"It's rather uncouth to assume your best friend does not care, my sweet," Astarion lies, hurting for all the wrong reasons, but you don't need to know that. "Now, are you avoiding the question because you're afraid I won't approve?"

"No," you respond, not meeting his eyes, opting to fiddle with the button again.

"Then out with it."

"Do you remember the bard?" Your smile says all he needs to hear. Your voice fades to the white noise of his mind.

Astarion feels like he's dying all over again. The damn bard, the suave casanova with a voice as alluring as his smile.

The two of you, Shadowheart and Gale, met at an old, bustling Tavern earlier in the month. Astarion had wished to stay home, but you all dragged him out of his house.

It wasn't a terrible evening; the wine was decent, and despite his best efforts, he enjoyed hearing what Shadowheart and Gale were up to. Astarion was having a good night. At least until the bard sauntered over with his brightly colored ensemble and his dashing smile, asking you for a dance. Astarion had hoped you would decline, but you bashfully accepted his outstretched hand and let the bard whisk you away.

For the remainder of the night, Astarion watched glumly as the bard swung you around the dance floor. He watched you giggle as you spun, dipped, and turned into his sturdy arms. He watched as you fell for his charms. Astarion felt what was left of his heart, the sole piece that belonged to you, crumble into powder. Because there you were, happy with a man who was everything he could never be. A man you deserved. A man with as much light and life as you.

Astarion left early, not wanting to see the love of his life slip further away, missing the crestfallen look that dawned on your lips the moment you saw Astarion slip out the back.

"Astarion?"

Your voice brings him back. And suddenly, Astarion realizes he can't let you go. He will lose you forever if you leave his home tonight; Astarion cannot live with that. He cannot live without you by his side. He cannot live without your smile, your laugh, and your touch, everything.

Astarion wants to be selfish and keep his light, even if that means dooming you to the dark.

"Don't go," he chokes out, voice cracking. Astarion is out of his chair and stumbling to your side before he can tell his legs to move. He's cradling your hands, his eyes pleading for you to understand the gravity of those two simple words.

"What? Why?" You balk, stepping back.

Astarion matches your step. "I think you know why, Tav," he says, his voice firm this time. He cups your face with his palm, and you inhale shaky, seeming to freeze under his touch.

"Astarion,"

"Stay," he pleads, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone, eyes burning with desperation and hope.

"Astarion," you say softly, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "Why now?"

His heart breaks, feeling tears burn in his eyes, knowing he might lose you forever. "Because I can no longer pretend to be happy with just being your friend."

Astarion crashes his lips to yours before you can respond, pouring his desperation and passion into the kiss. You gasp, clutching onto his shirt in surprise before meeting his kiss with equal enthusiasm. He swears he can see stars and feel warmth deep in his chest. When he pulls away, he's panting, his eyes searching yours.

"I love you," he confesses. "Gods, I love you, Tav. I should have never let you go."

"Astarion, I-"

Astarion pulls you close, wrapping you in a tight hug. "Please, Tav," he whispers, his voice thick with tears. "Just stay."

"I'm not leaving," you assure, nuzzling in his hold. "I-I love you too. I've always loved you, you know that. But after everything, can we just...can you-" You pause, struggling to find the right words, torn between past traumas and new beginnings.

"I don't know," Astarion admits, "But I've never been more certain about anything than I am about you. The rest, we'll figure out."

And with no other words needing to be said, you held Astarion tighter, and he swore he would never let you go again.

This was heavily inspired by the fact I'm replaying bg3 (again) and romancing Wyll and went the friend route with Astarion. It was painful but I survived...mostly. Anyway, feedback always makes my day so let me know what you thought 🥰

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #reader insert #fanfic #frantic fiction

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simpxxstan · 1 year ago

Text

double take

pairing: prince!joshua x f.reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage au, royalty au

summary: some lovers are star-crossed. some are destined to rise from the ashes. and some lovers are bound together by duty, but lovers nevertheless. joshua hong thinks fate is too cruel, but little does he know, that there are stars moving to keep his destiny alive.

word count: 22.7k

rating: 18+ (mdni please!)

warning: there's a ton of angst. death of wonwoo, who is joshua's brother, in the past (not graphic), smut warnings: mentions of masturbation, vaginal penetration, nipple play. alcohol and heartbreak. wonwoo is gay. reader has some body image issues, some descriptions of a midsize body and insecurities related to that.

a/n: i poured my heart and soul into this. took me over two months to complete. i hope you enjoy this!

p.s. there are lyrics from ten songs in this fic. i hope you can find the songs! else, i can link them later if you can't find out or guess them. i'd recommend listening to them while reading their particular parts, really sets the mood.

알잖아 우리 사이엔 말보다 더 중요한 게 있잖아

“You know, there are more important things between us than words”

As soon as the doors open, everyone gasps in awe, looking at you with adoration, jealousy, and sentiment all at the same time. The numerous cameras flash, there are audible gasps spreading across the room, the Choir instantly starts playing the traditional music played at a wedding. The room is decked up in pink and white roses, your favourite, and there are beautiful lights decorating the entire room. The glistening white sparkles off the floor, the walls, the tiles and the decor. Your parents already have their eyes moist; your friends are smiling widely, as they stand with their bouquets ready as the bridesmaids. The entire room beams with the joy of the wedding of the century.

And yet, he, whose attention you seek, does not even flick an eyelash. His deer eyes remain curved upward in what you know is a fake smile of endearment, his lips pursed in a false look of affection. You know he does for the cameras, he knows you know it too. You feel he doesn’t really want to be here, he knows you feel it too. You hadn’t expected him to really want this, and yet your heart had hoped against hope. But he had not proved you wrong.

Prince Joshua wants to be anywhere but here.

Prince Joshua wants to be with anyone but you.

Prince Joshua wants to do anything but this farce.

The Choir starts a new song, indicating that it is time for you to step forward towards the altar, where the priest is waiting for you. Your to-be husband is waiting for you. As your heart aches, you make your way towards him, your eyes avoiding his at all costs, while his remain fixed on you. He’s searching for something. An equal apathy towards this wedding? An equal irritation towards the partner? Any hope that you’d call this event off right now and free him for the torture? Last night you had almost been tempted to do so, thinking that at least now he would not treat you as poorly as he had been treating you for the last five months. But you know too well, you cannot give him that satisfaction.

You’re too in your head through the rituals, hardly paying attention to what vows he makes, barely caring about the reactions of the audience, not even listening to the priest’s statements. You were spiralling, trying to avoid his gaze which was fixated on you.

Oh god, can we get over this fast?

“Do you, Joshua Hong Jisoo, take Kim Y/N as your duly wedded wife?”

Is this even a question? This interviewer in my dream gets dumber and dumber. Obviously, it’s a-

“Yes.”

You’re quickly snapped into focus when the answer makes you realise this is not a dream. The priest now asks you, “And do you, Kim Y/N, take Joshua Hong Jisoo as your duly wedded husband?”

This is the moment. You breathe in, breathe out. It’s a millisecond to disaster.

“Yes, I do.”

Joshua had not foreseen this moment five months ago when he had been called back to his country at midnight, after an emergency call from his mother. Brain dulled with grief, thoughts about you had definitely crossed his mind, but not in this way. He had only thought of how you must be coping up with the news, given that you had been next to Wonwoo when the accident had taken his life. He wondered, if it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his body for him, how much worse was it for you. On returning to the palace, he had seen your lifeless face, staring at the night sky, a look he had never seen on your otherwise bright face.

Living away from his family for the past 7 years meant he was not feeling the grief as actively as his parents and you, who had spent much more time with Wonwoo these few years. He knew he would have to comfort his family, but he had no idea how. How could one comfort a mother of the loss of her youngest son? How could one comfort a father from the death of the apple of his eye? How could one comfort a woman who had just lost her dearest best friend and fiance?

To any other royal offspring, these would seem the most worrisome responsibilities. However, to Joshua, who had willingly given up his throne to his younger brother, who, he was confident, would be able to rule much better, the thought of becoming the Crown Prince was the most daunting. When he had turned sixteen, his father had asked him whether he wanted to become the Crown Prince. Almost immediately he had said no, convincing him to let Wonwoo take the lead. At the age of nineteen, when Wonwoo had come of age to become the Crown Prince, Joshua had left for the States to continue his education. At the age of twenty-two, when he had returned to his homeland for a 6 months break, the longest since leaving for the States, he had realised how good his decision had been to let Wonwoo take over. Wonwoo had both skill and the youthful spirit the people of the kingdom needed. His calmer and smarter personality meant he could shoulder the responsibilities better than Joshua ever felt he could. Plus, Wonwoo was a crowd favourite, being the maknae of the Royal Family, and yet the smartest of the lot, as his parents and elder brother had tagged him affectionately.

The public had, of course, not taken Wonwoo’s death well. They had been incredibly supportive of Wonwoo becoming the Crown Prince over Joshua (their polls on social media had been another reason Joshua had left) but now it was just augmented as the general image for Joshua was that of the Prince who had Fled. Princes had to be strong, mentally and physically. Careful, enigmatic, and visionary, like Wonwoo. Not deer-eyed, delicate, and cowardly, like Joshua.

Why should we trust anyone who ran away from his duties of being the eldest, to rule us well?

Indeed, the modern Royal Family had stepped past the norms of age hierarchy, but the mathyung usually took up the reins of royal duty. Instead, Joshua had effectively fled from his duties, not just stepped down and aside. He had been away from his country for a solid 7 years, how would he ever know what the people needed? They strongly protested against Joshua becoming the Crown Prince now, but there were no other progeny left to take up the responsibility.

Needless to say, the entire country was mourning the loss of Wonwoo desperately, albeit for different reasons.

Joshua had soon realised that he had no time to grieve. As soon as the funeral was over, he had to get to work. But how would he survive in this earthquake shaking up his life?

The first step was getting up-to-date with everything that had happened in the country when he was away. Some of it, he knew. Learning the rest was not a tough task. After dropping out of the PhD program he was pursuing in the USA, he had ample free time in his hand to learn every new fact his advisors fed him.

The second step was understanding how royalty worked. Having stepped down from his duties as a teenager meant he had never received training per se. He had to relearn traditional etiquette he had forgotten, familiarise himself with the advisors and royal support system, and thoroughly practise his new duties.

The third step, of course, was making himself popular and loved among the public. The PR team had come up with a long list of actions he should consider to improve his public image. His parents had rejected many of them as unnecessary, and said, "There's only one thing to be done. Marry Y/N."

Joshua had looked at his own parents incredulously. How could they suggest such a step?

When you all were children, he had considered you nothing more than a playmate. An interesting woman, intelligent, witty and warm, a rare combination, he had realised, as he had made acquaintances with more and more people. Of course, you were always closer to Wonwoo. Joshua had known you would end up marrying each other. Everyone had already planned out your wedding with Wonwoo before you had even turned thirteen. Hence your engagement with the Crown Prince last year, had come as no shock to anyone.

Over the years he had come to consider you as a friend. One he met only during summer breaks, always by the side of his little brother. Lately, he had tried to think of you as a sister-in-law. It was funny that he hadn't thought of you as that sooner. He had anticipated the engagement anyway.

"I'm sorry, that's not a possibility I want to consider."

"Why?" Your father had asked you.

"She's my sister-in-law. My little brother's intended. This would be the worst way to take his place."

"Jisoo-"

"No. If you want me to marry someone, I'll be ready for whoever you choose fit. Just not Y/N."

And yet here he was. Swearing his wedding vows to you. Destiny had really done him dirty.

If you had thought the wedding was a trial, the wedding ball was like the guillotine. Under the attention of at least three million people and a million more cameras, your cheekbones ached from putting up the fake smile. Joshua was nearly always at your side, making small talk with the numerous people who had come to wish you congratulations, ranging from the common people to the elite crowds. His body was inexplicably close to yours, but never touching. You could smell his perfume, but never hear his breathing. You could see his smiles, but never feel the warmth.

You knew why he was marrying you. The country needed a royal leader who knew them and related with them. Joshua was a westernised man, who forgot to bow on most occasions, forgot to speak formally sometimes, forgot even the most difficult letters of the Hangul script sometimes. You were the perfect mix to satisfy that gap- the daughter of the royal counsel, not even the offspring of a royal clan, educated in Hangul history by your own choice, and a close friend of the Princes. You were well aware that your engagement with Wonwoo had been immensely popular- the result being that you had already become the official face and honorary member for many societies and organisations of the kingdom.

And now that Wonwoo was gone, but obviously, you had been requested by the King and the Queen to marry Joshua.

And you had taken it in your stride. It was another responsibility for you to fulfil towards your people, who you had become quite affectionate towards since becoming the Crown Prince's fiance; towards your parents, who had dreamt of you becoming Princess since you had developed a friendship with the young Prince; and towards Wonwoo, who you knew had wanted this match since your first Spring Dance, when both of you had guessed each other's secrets a little too accurately.

You knew Joshua would never love you. And frankly speaking, you hadn’t expected love in this kind of setup. Even when agreeing to marry Wonwoo, you had zero romantic feelings for him, only seeing him as your best friend. And when your best friend asks you to rule the kingdom at his side, to be his companion in the tough times, to be his closest person forever, how could you ever say no?

And so, you had agreed to this arrangement with Joshua. You had imagined that he would be equally practical as you, and see this as a familial duty he had to complete. You had imagined he would at least be courteous, friendly and civil with you.

But you were, oh, so wrong. He had been anything but civil with you these five odd months.

If the wedding had been disappointing, then the dance after the wedding was … just sad. As Joshua stepped closer to you, his aura radiating with the white suit he had donned for this day, he could feel your breath heavy on your face. Free from the burden of conversation (usually, ladies would keep pestering him with questions and sad, unsuccessful, forceful attempts at flirting with him). He remembered hearing from the dressmaker how you had fussed about each detail of the dress, but Joshua had no doubt, every version would’ve looked good on you. And all that fuss had definitely paid off: the sweetheart neckline showed off your collarbones beautifully. Your neck was empty save one diamond pendant (which the royal family had gifted to you on your eighteenth birthday, how sweet of you to wear this memory on this special day). There were tiny flowers in your hair, bright yellows against the dark brown. Then there were your cherry lips-

“Joshua.” He sees those lips mould themselves into his name first, and then hears them (light did travel faster than sound). “Hmm?” He whispers back, his voice gravelly from the fake laughs he had to laugh through the day. “I think I just… sprained my ankle.”

It doesn’t register in his mind at first.

A millisecond later, you’re suddenly tripping and wincing, and it hits him. His first instinct is to pick you up in his arms and take you away from the room, afraid that if you have to walk your injury may worsen. His second instinct is to signal to your aide from the corner of the huge hall. His third instinct is to drop the hand from your shoulder and call out loudly for help.

But he follows his first instinct. Picks you up, in the bridal style the audience had been waiting to see all day. There are swoons and gasps all around, but the most surprising reaction is from you. He half expects you to thrash him, or even screech out. But you only gasp and quickly start saying something, in a low tone that he can’t properly catch, so heavy- why’re you doing this- Joshua- put me down- I’m okay- just- ugh!- argh!- Joshua please. He tunes your voice out, breathy and desperate. He tunes out the noises in the hall. He tunes out his assistants and bodyguard stepping closer to you both, trying to understand the emergency. He just focuses on you.

Your mouth spelling out different words, your eyes widening in surprise, your cheeks becoming red with embarrassment. The way you keep protesting and yet your hands clutch his shoulders. The way your dress rides up to reveal the culprit ankle. The way your hair moves when he walks towards the door, and straight up the stairs, time passing painfully fast, and yet slow enough for him to truly feel close to you for the first time, on this day which is meant to be so special to both of you.

But when he reaches your room, he gently brings you down to the floor, your aide already by his side. “What has happened, Your Highness?” “Y/N seems to have sprained her ankle,” Joshua says as he leans you against the sofa, carefully stepping back, allowing your maids to gather around you like fireflies.

“I just… I don’t usually wear such high heels… I’m not used to them. So while I was dancing-” He can see your face flush, your eyes blinking rapidly, gulping after every word, and avoiding his eye. He almost smiles endearingly, at your little movements. But he dares not, lest you think he’s mocking you.

“You don’t have to explain Y/N. It’s natural. Jiyoung, please do not let the Royal Princess wear high heels again,” he addresses your aide.

“Can you speak to the guests? I’ll be down as soon as possible, Joshua.”

“Y/N, can you not fret? Come down when you can. And I’d honestly feel better if you didn’t come down, and instead took rest. It’s anyway been a long day for you.”

And he leaves the room, his long suit flowing behind him, as he puts on his best smile for the worried guests waiting downstairs, ignoring the immense urge to go back to your room, remove those bloody heels and take your delicate foot in his hands, to see exactly what was paining you.

To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. Uneasy. Skittish. Shocked. Your heart pounding in your chest. The absence of the warmth of his touch. The ghost of concern in his eyes when he had carried you through the hall.

Oh, how shameful.

As a woman of public presence, you had never cared about your image, nor your appearance. You knew the rumours about your weight, how your broad shoulders were just like Wonwoo, just like any man, how your hips looked like you’d given birth three times over, how you were utterly unfitting for the beauty standards of the kingdom. But you could care less about these statements- you simply had no time for beauty, and no value for looks.

And yet when Joshua had picked you up, quite effortlessly, if you may add, your heart had skipped a beat, your brain a neuron, and all you could think of was how embarrassing it was. How he must be regretting this grand gesture as soon as he realised just how heavy you were, how he was doing this all under public scrutiny just to keep the audience happy, how he must be feeling burdened with the thoughts of handling the party alone. Your guilt had just driven your embarrassment to greater heights, until you were speechless and unable to do anything. You had searched for any sign of discomfort, irritation, or regret on his face, but they had completely disappeared- in fact, those had been all the emotions you had seen in the last few months, but at that moment, Joshua seemed like a different man. Could it be… no. You wouldn’t let your foolish heart take flight again, like the thirteen year old you would have.

Sadly, Joshua was right. Your ankle felt better after the medic had checked it and given you a painkiller, but there was no escaping the dull lull of sleep clenching on to your eyes as soon as those awful shoes were off and the tight gown had been relaxed on your body to make you comfortable. It had truly been a long day, and your brain was on overdrive with all the overwhelming events of the day. Too many thoughts confusing you.

Will he be disappointed in me? I can’t consummate the marriage. Does he think I balked on him today? For all he knows, I might as well have feigned the injury to cling on to him like a desperate woman, or worse, run off from the party organised in our honour. Did he think I was pretty today? What will the public think about me now that I’ve run away from my own wedding party? Wedding… you’re married to Joshua Hong now… for good. But would he ever consider you his wife?

To avoid the thoughts from spiraling into worse demons, you let yourself fall into the easy trap of sleep.

ii.

당신이 그리워하는 것은 그대일까? (그대일까?)

아니면 미화된 기억 저편의 그때일까? (그대일까?)

“Is it you that you miss? (Is it you?)

Or is it that time on the other side of the glorified memory? (Is it you?)”

That night, Joshua Hong could think of no one but you. Tired, and yet, sleep eluded him. You had sent no word of feeling better, obviously annoyed that he had encroached upon your private space like that by picking you up- oh god, what had he been thinking- and he had felt too shy to visit you to take news about your well being. But oh, when he paced about in his room, all he could think of was how beautiful you had looked today. Although your eyes were sad, with the burden of the wedding, and your body weak, with the worry and tires of royal life, and your heart aching, with your best friend, and quite probably your lover, gone and replaced way too soon by an unwanted man… you were still just as beautiful as the first time he had met you.

That was what he dreamt of that night.

You were wearing a yellow skirt, which had twirled in the wind like a sunflower standing tall in a windy field. The day had been gloomy, but your presence had lit it up. He was all but fourteen years old, and you were just eleven. But just your smile had been enough to teach him what infatuation was.

And then, what jealousy was. When he saw you spend more time with Wonwoo, being closer in age to him and sharing more interests with him.

And then, what longing was. When all he saw of you were brief glimpses in the corridors as you would play hide and seek with his brother. When all he heard of you were hums of your laughter when you would beat Wonwoo in a video game, teaching him the tricks of winning battleship wars. When all he wanted was to speak to you, address this funny feeling in his chest whenever he saw you, but you never gave him a moment to continue the conversation from greetings. Always too eager to leave, always too shy to make eye contact.

But soon he had gotten over the crush- his puberty had settled in now, he was no longer troubled by rushed infatuations over younger girls. He had decided to focus on studies, having already made up his mind to abdicate the throne. He would meet you from time to time, generally accompanied by Wonwoo, as you were his best friend now, and sometimes by Mingyu, your twin brother and Wonwoo’s classmate.

You were also growing fast- into a more serious lady. Gone were the giggles, they were replaced by crescent-eyed grins and shy, mature smiles. Objectively, he found you very attractive. But your closeness with Wonwoo had made it obvious to him that your heart belonged to his younger brother, and gently he had started seeing you as a friend. It was a status he was happy with for he knew you were the best for Wonwoo. And he had himself moved on. Once he had blossomed into adolescence, there was no end of women and men waiting for him to give them some attention. Although he hadn't given up on true love, a couple of one-night adventures would harm none. Especially when he was in the States. No one to stop him, no one to shit-talk about him. A stone gathering no moss, wary of a fire to melt the core.

Until he had returned and seen you.

It was well past midday when you woke up. You felt really refreshed, and were on the verge of breaking into a happy mood, when you realise exactly what day it was.

The morning after your wedding. Your wedding day. Gosh. All the memories of last evening came flooding by, and you put your hands to your face in embarrassment.

“Y/N-ah!” followed by a loud thumping.

You hear your twin brother, Mingyu’s voice from the other side of the doors, probably waiting for you to wake up and respond, or break down the door himself. So you call back, “Yeah, I’m awake!” The door opens swiftly, and your giant brother walks in with the weirdest look on his face. It’s a mix of worry, happiness, pride, and teasing. You can read him like a book, ugh.

“About time, my loveliest sister. Everyone’s looking for you. Quite the drama you can stir up huh? Who knew you had it in you?” He sits by you, and smiles fondly, knowing very well how his words are burning you. “I know, I’m sorry for the mess.” He reaches out, holding your arm as you sit up in bed. “Hey, there’s no need to be sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Hmm, better I think. Let me try and move my leg.” And you gently kick him, taking him by surprise as he falls out of the bed. You laugh even harder at the look on his face. “Yaah! Aren’t you supposed to be injured?!” “It must not be serious, I can actually move it well now. Should I practice once more?” “Yaaah, Kim Y/N! If you’re going to take advantage of being the royal princess by KICKING ME, I’m going to take you to court!” “Now aren’t you taking advantage of being the royal counsel?” And you both are laughing fondly. It’s truly been a moment since you last sat with Mingyu, carefree like this. You only realise now how heavy the burden of the wedding was.

But it’s certainly not the end of the burden. This is going to go on for a long time now. Forever, if you’re fortunate.

A small face peeks at the open door, and you instinctively wrap the blanket around your body to hide yourself. It’s been a shy habit since childhood, avoidance and displeasure in sudden interactions, but when you see the face belongs to your fian- husband, Joshua, you nod at him, asking him to come in. And he looks as immaculate as ever. Hair brushed back, your wedding ring on his finger, his dapper brooch shining against the black suit he’s wearing. Mingyu breaks the ice, “And why are you so dressed up early in the morning, Hyung?” “Simply because he can,” you whisper to him, and you both giggle. Your faces are mirror images of each other, when you realise Joshua couldn’t hear what you had whispered and hence had a puzzled look in his eyes. “I- I’ve a meeting with the council in, like, 15 minutes. And it’s not early in the morning. It’s already noon.” “Noon is a fine time to be in bedclothes, Hyung, in case you didn’t know,” and Mingyu waves a goodbye to you as he leaves you both alone, winking at the other man in the room.

And then there’s a silence.

It’s not even a pause. It’s like a semibreve rest, which is stretched bar onto bar using more tied rests.

And then there’s a disharmonious note clanging through the silence.

“How’s your leg?”

“Hmmm, better. Thank you.”

“Huh? Thanking me for what?”

You chuckle. “For asking, I guess. But I mean, more generally. Thanks for letting me rest yesterday and handle the event.”

“Yeah I couldn’t let your injury worsen, could I? That wouldn’t be very… husband-like of me.” He makes brief eye contact when saying the h-word, but breaks it immediately, frisking about in the room. You bite your lip. It’s exactly like you thought. He had done it for the cameras.

“Is there anything else…”

“Oh yeah. Just - no rush, obviously,” he explains in the warmest tone ever, his eyes wide, “But the council is asking me about coronation dates.”

“Coronation?”

“Yeah, as the Royal Prince and the Princess.”

“Oh.”

“I understand it’s too soon since Wonwoo-”

“No it’s okay. We should get it over with. Whenever the council suggests, I’m cool with it.”

“Okay then.”

“Umm, also Joshua?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

Can you give me a peck on my forehead?

“Can there be a way to make up to you for the hassle you bore for me last evening? I’m really embarrassed and ashamed.”

He smiles, so smug and aware of how nervous you are. “No, Y/N. I didn’t do a favour on you. It was what my- my brain asked me to do.”

And he leaves, almost immediately, without giving you a chance to breathe out his scent that lingers so longingly in the room.

iii.

“You're my paradise, my own paradise

Everytime I look into those angel eyes”

You clearly remembered your first day of middle school. You had joined a new school, an elite school by all means. Your classmates were all nobility and you felt out of place among such crowds, considering how your mother had only recently been promoted to the position of the assistant to the royal counsel. But a stroke of luck ensured that your first day in the new school went off better than you could have ever dreamt of. Because you had met Jeon Wonwoo, the maknae prince, and he was the boy assigned to sit on the bench alongside yours. And although you were too shy to speak to him, he had extended the hand of friendship by lending you a pencil in the second class of the day.

And then sharing your lunch with you. You two were the only ones sitting alone in the canteen, while the rest had all begun mingling in groups. You had asked if he was unwell. He had said that this wasn’t uncommon, he preferred to eat alone. You had joked about the girls who were sending him looks from the other table and were giggling endlessly. He had smirked, saying he knew it already. You were scandalised, how could he ignore them and let them suffer in this illusion? He smiled, saying he enjoyed the attention. You had asked why he didn’t initiate any conversation with them or even friendzone them. He had simply said, they’re too silly for my time. I can’t talk about nails and hair and dresses. I don’t even know the difference between light purple and dark purple, for god’s sake. And you had laughed out loud, finding your first common dislike for pick-me teenage girls whose conversations centered about appearances and crushes.

That was the first of your many common dislikes, to be honest. And that was how you had become the best of friends, since then.

Wonwoo had been by your side throughout, as had you been for him. And although everyone thought your relationship was more than friendship, you both knew very well that you were the best of friends and nothing more, without any regrets or disappointments. For Wonwoo had been, surprisingly, madly, crazily in love with your twin brother, Mingyu.

You knew Mingyu was oblivious as hell. You also knew that Wonwoo preferred it to remain that way, finding security in secrecy. Even you had found out by accident, but of course how did he think he could ever hide it from you.

You had gotten drunk for the first time at the age of sixteen, the night when his father had informed him that he had to start training for becoming the Crown Prince. “Y/N, I’m already tired of this.” “Hmm, I guess I do understand why your brother stepped out.” “I know right! The responsibility far outweighs any privileges that I can get!”

You had laughed at his indignant words, “Yaah, what else do you want?” “Y/N-ah, are material pleasures the only thing one can desire?” “It's what most people desire, Wonwoo. There are very few other things that can make a human happy.” “Such as?” “Love. Family. Friendship,” and you had squeezed his warm hand, showing that you were there for him. “I already have most of that.” “And you’ll find love as well.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I have. For a long time now.”

You thought you’d become sober with the kind of shock this information sent to your brain. You jumped up in excitement, and squealed, “Who?!” He had smiled widely at your excitement, pushing up his glasses.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Ayy. Don’t be shy now.” “Nope. You cannot-” “Wonwoo!!!!! Don’t be such a spoilsport! I’ll kick your ass if you don’t tell me. We had sworn, no secrets!” He smirked, “Yes of course! The day I discovered your diary entries about hyung-” “Shh! Enough of me!” “Why are you embarrassed now?” “Because that was so long in the past. But your love- it’s in the present. We have to cultivate it.” “Jeez, Y/N. It’s not a crop.” “It is, you dimwit. Now tell me,” you shook his shoulders, borderline violent with curiosity.

But then there was a change in mood. Wonwoo began biting his lower lip, a telltale sign of embarrassment. “You don’t have to worry, hey. I’m your best friend. I’m never going to tell a soul. Not even my brother!”

He had stared at you as if you had said something wrong.

“How do you know?”

“Huh?”

It took three seconds for you to join the dots. But of course! How could you be so blind!

“You like Mingyu?”

Wonwoo’s face swelled up in bright red, he turned his entire body away from you. Finding his reaction endearing, you hugged him from the back. “Hey. It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

He still didn’t turn back. “I- I like a boy.”

“Wonwoo! That’s hardly something to be embarrassed about.”

“I can never tell my parents. Hell, I can’t even tell Mingyu. He’s straight as fuck.” You could hear his breath getting labored in his agitation. He swiftly turned around and clasped your hands. “Y/N. Promise me you’ll never tell him. Please.”

And you had promised him. With complete sincerity.

You have seen Mingyu cry plenty of times. When a dog had scratched his knee (he had only tried to play with it). When he had lost his passport (but found it again three minutes later). When you had slapped him for breaking your guitar (you had torn the love letters he had received on Valentine’s Day for he was acting too smug about them).

But today, there are no tears in his eyes, when he prays for Wonwoo at his funeral. Just a blank face and lifeless eyes, which you know to be hiding so much. Wonwoo’s death had affected Mingyu a lot, albeit not as much as you, but Wonwoo had still been the closest he had to a friend of his own age, when he had been introduced into the world of nobility just like you. Since then, you had seen Mingyu become distracted, drinking alone in the house after midnight, avoiding any gatherings, and delved deep into his work. And today, even when the world perceives him as unaffected and heartless, you know just how broken he feels, by the paleness in his eyes and the weak shaking of his fingers.

On your other side is Joshua. He, like Mingyu, is also stoic, but you can hear his muffled sniffles. He’s softer than both Mingyu and Wonwoo, and you’re surprised he can hold back his grief. But you guess he has to, considering his completely broken down parents standing in front of him. They seem to lose all control over their feelings as they cry and pray for their son’s peaceful afterlife.

You’re also crying. Joshua knows you are, and he’s looking at you more than once in a minute. One time, you look back at him, and he immediately puts his hand in yours. You don’t question the sudden gesture of affection, you don’t care enough about it. All you care about is the illusion your heart keeps feeding your brain that you’re not alone even if Wonwoo’s gone. You hold on Joshua’s pinky finger for dear life, and let the tears roll down your cheeks, whispering mumbled prayers as the priests keep on talking.

“It’s so nice to see you after years.” Joshua smiles at your words, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he drinks in the warmth of your presence. It feels so good to be around familiar people in this now unfamiliar world, where everyone seemed to be accusing him for something or the other.

“Likewise, Y/N. How are you holding up?” He is indicating to your life after Wonwoo’s passing away. “Just about. Your parents want me to go to therapy,” you chuckle, but he thinks his parents aren’t saying the wrong thing. “You should, though. You were his literal best friend and fiance. If anyone needs support, it's you.” “It’s okay. If I really felt that weak, I would’ve taken the support, trust me. But I don’t. I don’t know… maybe because it’s Wonwoo? I feel like… even if he’s not with me, he’ll always be with me.” “Yeah, he does have that, doesn’t he? The little hand on your back all the time. It feels like that to me too.” “Then you understand.”

And there had been silence. Until you had addressed the elephant in the room.

“I’ve accepted the King’s proposal. I think it’s only fair for him to request me to marry you.”

He stumbles, trips and almost falls. Then he pauses on the walk, and looks at you. “Y/N. I think he’s being cruel, and you can honestly tell me if you feel so too. You don’t have to worry about your brother’s position-”

“Oh no!” You smile, a weak smile that doesn’t reach your cheekbones. “I don’t worry about Mingyu. I know he’ll survive in the system even if I’m kicked out. I was anyway thinking it’s high time I got kicked out, though. I have no use here anyway. I guess being your wife can be the only reason I stay in.”

You say the words so casually, his fingers burn with electricity. He can’t fathom why you’re so relaxed about it. But you read his mind, “Joshua. I’ve never really… looked for love. So it’s okay if this marriage is loveless. But I do care about Wonwoo. Sorry… did care about Wonwoo. And I think he would want me to support you in any way I can to help you settle down in this new responsibility that’s been dumped on you.”

“Y/N. Please, you don’t have to be so understanding.”

“Joshua, all I’m saying is that I’m okay with whatever arrangement this becomes. If you have qualms, I totally get that. You may not be ready for marriage- or,” he notices the slight change in pitch, “you may like someone else. If that is the case, you can tell me honestly and I’ll step back. I’m not a golddigger,” you laugh, quite sarcastic and bitter though.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?”

“I am.”

“I’m not, but I’m willing to do it.”

And then you extend your hand to him, and he doesn’t know what to do. Are you asking him to hold your pretty fingers? Or admire the gold bracelet adorning your lithe wrist? Or-

“God, Joshua. You won’t even shake hands with me?”

He doesn’t know why his heart falls. He shakes hands with you, and laughs about his error, before you divert the topic into other matters. He’s so unfocused, mind going back to how soft your hand had felt in yours.

Your hand feels rougher. Almost as if it’s been burnt at the edges. You have been burnt, though, Joshua thinks, as he looks at your eyes, glimmering with tears shed and unshed, your parted lips, bursting with words said and unsaid, and your face pale with sadness.

To keep himself distracted, he thinks about why your hand feels more rough. Hurt by the worries of the royal family you’ve been forced in? Uncared for in this palace which is not your home? Calloused with the scars of this burdensome relationship? He doesn’t know why there’s an increasing urge in his heart to try and change all of that, all to see you smile widely again. But it’s too daunting of a task, and Joshua is a coward.

Days pass by quickly. Before you realise, you’ve been married for a month and you’re making your first public presence since that disastrous evening of your wedding. Public presence as a couple. It’s at a conference with leaders of neighbouring countries, where Joshua is expected to speak politics and economics and you’re expected to socialise with the women. But that’s hardly what happens.

In preparation for this event, you two had met a couple of times in the last week. Your schedules never clashed, so you hardly met each other, but this time, you had made time to meet him.

“Joshua, I’m not going to that conference to be a flower vase decorating you.”

He had been in the middle of a serious conversation with his secretary, but he signalled everyone out of the room as soon as he realised your mood was off after receiving the invitation to the conference. “No, you’re the Princess. You’re not going to be decorating me.” “I hope so. Joshua, I don’t mingle in your public affairs much, and I stick to the duties I’ve taken up, but I don’t want to be a trophy you carry around. I’m not fit for a trophy anyway-” he coughs, but you continue, “but most importantly, I’m a human with a brain. I need to be able to speak if I feel I want to speak.”

“And you shall. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

You falter for a second, not expecting him to yield so easily. You had expected him to put up a bit of a tantrum, exercising his authority as a Prince, but he seemed genuinely confused with your outburst.

“I don’t know… nothing, I guess. It’s just that. Historically, our royal ladies haven’t spoken at public forums too much. I don’t want to be like that.”

“I don’t think you could ever be like that, Y/N. Even if God had pledged you to be so. You’re too intelligent to stay shut.”

He leans on his desk, and you take in a breath to see him. He’s looking marvellous. Although it’s late at night and you’re already exhausted and in your pyjamas, he seems to be still working, wearing semi-formal slacks and a shirt. Your breath hitches at the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, but he interrupts your thoughts.

“I’ve actually been meaning to speak to you for a while.”

“About?”

“About… this. Like…” you can sense his hesitation, and you drop the arms you had folded to make him feel more relaxed.

“The PR team is asking me to hold your hand… or things like that when we’re in public. To show we’re a newly wedded couple in love.”

“I’m sure the entire world knows that we’re not in love. I’m not some despo who’s in love with Wonwoo one day, and the next day, in love with you.” You almost miss the little wince he makes when you complete your sentence. “But if they ask us to be affectionate, I suppose we-”

“No. I don’t think either of us would be comfortable with it.”

“You’re right. I think holding hands would be the maximum we can go to.” Your voice is steeling up, your heart frozen. He nods in agreement. You say, “Goodnight then, Joshua. Sleep early. You look tired, I’ll ask them to get you some tea?”

“Coffee?” he whines, almost making you smile. “No, tea.” And you leave the room without further words.

Joshua can’t, in fact, wait for the day of the conference. He’s been trying to find excuses to meet you, see you, and talk to you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. It’s just like it used to be back then, seeing you in the corridors, sometimes in the gardens, meeting each other only once in a week. It seems nothing like a marriage to him, but it certainly feels more intimate than anything he’s ever done. Any sex he’s had. Any relationship he’s had. Anything. Because his face burns up simply from your presence in his vicinity. His heart pumps when you call out his name. His fingers tremble after any accidental touch between the two of you. It’s foolish, giddy, and distracting. It’s a crush, he thinks. It feels just like he was fourteen, and he would have feverish dreams of playing with your hair, wondering what you smelled like, wishing to hug you and feel your soft curves melt into him. He knows you’re an adult now, and yet the sensations in his heart are so soft and innocent that he’s taken aback himself.

But all of that changes when he sees you in the black dress you’ve donned for the evening, as he comes to your room to ask if you’re ready to leave. You’re wearing pearls, matching the thin pearl necklace he has worn, and your wedding ring shines on your fingers. He wonders how you look just like paradise without any makeup or any fakeness.

Shit. He has to spend the entire evening with you. He’s doomed.

If anyone thinks they’re doomed, it’s you. You think about it when Joshua walks into your chambers wearing a black turtleneck under a charcoal grey suit, and you wonder why you’ve not burnt up in flames yet. His outfit is so contrasting to his smile, which lilts into his beautiful deer eyes that you so loved to dream about as a teen. His bangs are off his forehead, and when he speaks you notice his lips more than what he’s actually saying.

It doesn’t help that you both sit in the backseat, quite close to each other, on the ride to the venue.

It doesn’t help when you hear him rolling out words in English, in the sexiest accent you have ever heard.

It doesn’t help when he walks up on stage as the Guest of Honour to deliver his speech, looking like the man of the moment, and you can’t help the feeling of giddy pride bubbling into you. Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s you scorning the ladies ogling his beautiful figure on stage (he’s your husband, you think, not theirs). Maybe it’s you simply proud that he’s getting the attention he deserves.

He’s finishing his speech, partly in English, partly in Korean. You can see the media personnel immediately raise their hands for questions. And then you feel your blood boil as each question pours in one-by-one.

“Why does your country still have a monarchy in place? Don’t you think the lack of a democratic system is unfair to your people?”

“What steps are you taking to fill in the gap left behind by your younger brother, especially when you’re unfamiliar with your people now?”

“Do you plan on making Korea the next America? What will you do as the modern leader of the kingdom?”

They’re so intrusive, but Joshua has the sweetest and most patient smile on his face. “I’ll take your questions one by one, thank you.”

“Firstly, I think that there needs to be a clear understanding of what our governance looks like. We’ve held on to traditions and kept the monarchy intact, but what has become quite obvious, honestly, is that our government is not ruled by the king, but by what the people say. That is because all councils are elected into power, all the members of the governing body apart from the royal family are representatives of the people.”

Someone has the audacity to interrupt him, “But your country has the highest proportion of rich nobility controlling so many resources-”

“Please do not break me off mid-sentence. I’ll be patient and hear what you all have to say. That’s why I’m here, ain’t I?” That earns a soft laugh from the audience and shuts up the reporter.

“I understand your concerns, but the statistics are incorrect. Every economy, every nation has a few members of the society who are powerful and have control over resources. It’s quite an open secret. Due to our transparency you know who they are in our country. In other countries, it’s quite often disguised in the form of benevolent capitalists and social change mongering politicians.” Another laugh from the audience. His sarcasm doesn’t go unappreciated.

“But yes, it’s necessary to modernise Korea. I’ll simply be following in the footsteps of my younger brother, who understood the country so well. Apart from his contributions, I have so many programs lined up too. You’ll see them unfurling soon, I request you to be patient enough and allow me to find my footing. Anyway, I have my elected representatives and council members to help me in every step, and my wife’s opinions to guide my thoughts.” He pauses, and suddenly, you feel a blush rising up your cheeks as you feel the spotlight has shifted towards you. But your eyes are still on him, as he smiles the most dazzling smile, and you’re blinded.

With the smile of course, not by the sudden adoration you feel surging in your heart.

His wife. It’s not real, your brain overrides any silly loops of emotions your heart is riding in. It’s all for the show. Oh, but it feels so real. It feels so good. It’s all for the cameras.

And then there is applause and the spotlights are out, and you’re back to reality. You bite your lip to hold back the tears.

iv.

한편의 명작, 하나의 실루엣

우리의 그림은 익어가 빨갛게

“One masterpiece, one silhouette

Our paintings are ripe and red”

Joshua Hong feels dirty and disgusted. He has been nothing but a pervert this past week, and he has no one except himself to blame for it. He wants to flip over and die and repeat that for a million times, but nothing can stop the thoughts that wander into his brain every night, after he finally finishes work. Thoughts in the shower. Thoughts while walking in the gardens. Thoughts while eating ice cream as a late night snack. Thoughts while lying down in his bed.

Thoughts about you.

He wanted to avoid them, he really did. He knew you didn’t want him. Not in that way, certainly. You had made that clear to him, ample number of times. And yet, he found himself wanting you. Was it the lack of sex and increased stress these last six months? Or was it that night in the conference that had triggered it all off?

That night, when he said it aloud for the first time you were his wife. He felt so proud, looking at you from the stage, as you sat so elegantly, so much more beautiful than any other woman in the room, hell, more beautiful than any other woman he had met. That night, something had changed, he felt, or maybe it was a figment of his imagination. He had felt you grazing his arms with your fingers more often, on the excuse of calling his attention. He had felt you staring at him for seconds longer than usual. He had felt you speaking to him more comfortably all evening. And he had felt like a teenage boy, almost like taking out his crush to his first prom. He had been so excited to fill up your plate with food during dinner, and had loved it when you had conversed with all the dignitaries at the conference, using the smartest and most technical terms ever. He could’ve honestly, orgasmed right there.

And that had really triggered something off in him. That night, he had put his hands between his legs for the first time in months, and jerked himself off in his shower, thinking of your voice, your little movements and your incredible smartness. It wasn’t even physical, it was metaphysical, as he explained to himself the next morning, when the guilt hit him hard. It was a one-time thing, it won’t happen again, he had reasoned.

But god, even the heavens didn’t want him to keep his promise.

The next morning, he was called to your room on an ‘emergency’. Turned out, it was a new plan for the dams that you had thought up that night. And you had opted to explain that technology to him wearing a night suit that left nothing to his imagination. Just one thin strap had to slip off and his dirty curiosity would be satisfied forever. Jeez, Joshua Hong. Get a grip on yourself. This is your brother’s lover, she doesn’t even like you back.

But could any rational thought help him when all he could do was stare at your smooth arms and neck, revealed perfectly by the spaghetti tank top, and your thighs which were so beautiful he could-

“Joshua. Are you awake enough to even listen to me?”

God, what was that tone? Were you scolding him? For thinking illegal things about you? Yeah, you should, he thought with a swipe of his tongue over his parched lips, as he stared into your eyes, hidden behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses. God, you were so beautiful, he was a mess.

“Yeah, I am listening. You can just give me the plans alternatively, and at the next council meeting, I’ll let you know and you can come over and discuss it with everyone.”

Your chest heaved, out of breath with all the explanation you had dished out, and it was a sight for Joshua’s sore eyes.

“Okay,” you mumbled, continuing about how you were sceptical about the idea but-

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

And he had rushed out of the room before you spotted the revival of his morning wood straining through his cotton pants.

You’re determined to make yourself more involved in the governance work, and this means spending more time in close quarters with Joshua. And even though you’re trying your best (you really are), sometimes you can’t help but steal a glance at his chiselled jawline, gaze too long at his beautiful eyes, and wish that his fingers were wrapped around your neck- shit, that was too much. But it’s been over a year that you’ve received any kind of sexual attention (the last being from a friend of Mingyu’s at his birthday party, before your engagement with Wonwoo had been made public), and let’s be fair, it’s really hard to dodge the bullets Joshua Hong, unknowingly, keeps aiming at you. Because, fuck, your brain had been all messed up and you had begun stammering when he had met you during your long late night walk in the orchid garden.

“Fancy seeing you here.” That was the first sentence he had said to you that week, and you weren’t in a mood to speak to him, to be honest. Your period was due soon, and you had hoped the fresh air would cure the cramps.

“My room was too stuffy.”

“Do you want me to shift your room-”

“No! There’s no need for that.”

“I mean, you could always come and stay with me. I’ll arrange for the bedroom adjacent to mine being opened and connected with mine. At least that’ll stop the tattletales in the kitchen about us sleeping apart even though the King and Queen still sleep together.”

He was right. The gossip was getting on your nerves now. It must be because she’s so darn gross and ugly, they said. It must be because Prince Joshua has met sexier women when he was abroad. It must be because she’s a brat and runs her mouth too much. It must be because she had jumped on Joshua once the other Prince had died, but Joshua can’t take her weight, haha.

And you had tried, you really had. Gone on a diet, lost three kilograms, and focused more on the remnants of teenage acne on your cheeks. You, who had never given a damn about appearances, were now trying to please- who, exactly? The public? The press? Or was it all to get a reaction out of your husband?

One night, you cave into the weakness. You find comfort in your fingers fondling with your nipples, gasps escaping from your lips as you lie in the dark, under your heavy blankets, imagining Joshua’s pillowy lips on your neck. It gives you shivers, and you’re thankful for the warm blanket.

But as soon as the shot of pleasure shoots through your veins, his words that you had overheard come to your mind.

It was the day after your first conversation with him, confirming your willingness to enter the marriage. Joshua was drinking with Mingyu in the house you shared with your brother after the death of your parents. You had no idea you’d find the Prince in your house when you returned from the market, bag full of groceries and skirt dirty from the mud in the roods after the rain.

“Hyung, if you don’t want to marry her, you can just tell your parents.”

“Do you think they’ll listen to me, Mingyu-ah?” he had scoffed.

“They’ve always been pretty liberal. Letting Wonwoo break the hierarchy has probably been the most controversial decisions of all time, but they were strong enough to take the call. I’m sure if you explain that you don’t want to-”

“Mingyu, it’s not about want or not. I cannot marry her. It is beyond my moral capacity. I really… ugh, it’s so twisted.”

“Maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re just thinking like this because you don’t know her well enough.”

“I do. I know her enough to know I cannot get myself into this marriage. It’ll be the worst decision of my life, I know I’m going to regret it.”

And the euphoria of pleasure dies as soon as it had begun, leaving you empty, both emotionally and physically. You thrash yourself for becoming that stupid teenage Y/N again, crying for a man who you would never get. Joshua would never love you, no matter how much you wanted him to. Maybe you just didn’t deserve him.

The next few days were absolute torture for Joshua. He knew exactly how you felt towards him, in fact you reminded him of it every second, and yet he could not keep his eyes off you. His stupid puberty crush had been reawakened, and somehow, he felt like he was younger when he was around you. Maybe because he trusted you to take burdens off his shoulder when you showed up to council meetings and convinced the balding, middle-aged men (who only stared at your legs and sighed at every novel idea you presented) to let you take over projects which you felt passionate about. A new legal bill for safety for women in workplaces. New schemes to reduce the drop-out rate in colleges. Revamping incentives to ensure the needy families do not prioritise employment over education for their children.

And he would bask in your warmth. Sometimes it felt like you were the light at the end of his tunnel- when he would be tired after nights of staying awake, worrying about projects or silly politics, you’d turn up, smelling of lavender, wearing your lace night suits and carrying pots of lemongrass tea with you. You were a dream, a mist in the spring, and he was chasing the happiness he felt in your presence.

Seeing the two of you spend more time together meant his parents were happier than ever and they began inviting you to dinners with them.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You open the door to your bedchamber, simply dressed in a white shirt and blue flared jeans that did nothing to hide your tempting ass that Joshua kept wanting to get his fingers on. “Yeah. Not wearing anything fancy, I don’t need to fool them about my looks at least.”

“Fool them about looks, what are you saying?” He asks you softly as you both make your way through the long winding corridors.

“Oh nothing.” He catches on to your disappointed voice, how you move an inch away from him after this statement.

“Y/N-” “Don’t you read the papers, Joshua? I know you don’t have time for society gossip but I’m sure you know what they’re saying.”

Shit. He really doesn’t know. He stops walking and looks at you dumbfounded.

“What are they saying, Y/N?” Please let it not be what I’m thinking it is.

“Never mind Josh.” Josh? When did you start calling him Josh? Not that he’d ever mind.

“I want to know.” He steps in front of you, blocking your way. He can see your pupils dilate and then relax, your beautiful lips part gently to take in air, all while there are clouds in your face.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Joshua. It’s embarrassing already to know they say all that, it’s even worse to be complaining to you about-”

“You’re not complaining. You’re my wife, you can share your concerns with me.” I want you to share yourself with me, please.

You bite your lower lip, and continue after hesitating, “I don’t know- I know I’m not perfect and I’ve never wanted to look like a celebrity or a model or whatever, and I also know I don’t have the same kind of good looks that Mingyu was blessed with, and I know I’m not size zero and-”

He steps in and kisses you.

And steps back almost immediately.

God knows why he did it, but he doesn’t have time to regret it in spite of the shocked expression on your face. “Y/N. You’re so beautiful. I don’t even have enough words to describe how beautiful you are. And I’m not saying this just for the sake of it. I’ve always thought you’re simply perfect.”

It seems you’re still out of breath from the kiss. He is too, he just wants to appear composed in front of you while breaking down inside from the fear of you not wanting it as much as he did.

“Y/N. I don’t care what the media says. And I know you’re not one to care about that bullshit either. I want you to know that those who matter to you, love you, for just who you are. We wouldn’t change a thing.”

And he steps away and continues walking ahead, at a slower pace. You start walking a few seconds later, and finally his own heartbeat stops pumping in his ear like a ticking time bomb.

You cannot focus on dinner after that. It’s not humanly possible, you think, as you steal gazes at your husband across the table as he laughs with his parents over silly dad jokes he’s been cracking all evening. His mood has relatively improved in the last few weeks, and now you actually enjoy his company a lot. Just like when you were younger and you looked up to him with starry eyes, in awe of how he knew so much more than you in spite of being just three years older.

But you’re dying inside. Your stomach is churning, your skin perspiring and a sheen of sweat on your forehead makes your mother-in-law ask you in concern, “Y/N dear, I’ve never seen you pick at your food like this. Are you not hungry?”

You panic and reply, “Umm, no I’m just on a little diet,” and you cover up with a fake smile, avoiding Joshua’s eyes so that you miss out on the furrowing of his eyebrows at the mention of diet. He asks you, not allowing you to escape, “Why are you on this diet? Are you trying to lose weight?”

“Yes.” It’s true, you have been trying to lose weight. You’ve stopped liking how you look in the many public photographs that get clicked of you nowadays.

“Why?”

And all of a sudden, there’s a palpable tension in the room. The mood is dead serious and you know Joshua is angry.

Why is he fucking angry? Does he not want you to go on a diet? Is this continuing from what he said earlier- oh god, forget about the kiss Y/N!

“I just… I want to become fitter. I’m thinking of restarting swimming. You remember how I used to swim a lot earlier?” you casually ask him, not expecting him to almost choke. “Yeah I do… it’s a good idea. It’ll help you get rid of stress also.”

Your parents-in-law say something in enthusiastic agreement, but all you can focus on is how good Joshua Hong looks with his hair slicked back, his plain green sweater hanging loose on his shoulders, and how he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again. Not that he would actually want that, though. More likely, he’s looking at you to erase that memory of the kiss.

The Crown Prince of Korea is seconds away from a heart attack and the reason is his wife. He can’t get the kiss out of his head- he’d be lying to himself if he said that he hasn’t been thinking of this for months now. He realises just how futile his attempts of thinking of you only and only as Wonwoo’s lover and his sister-in-law have been, when he thinks of just how long he’s longed to feel his lips on yours. Months? Hell, it must’ve been years. When his first choice of his plus-one to his first prom night had been you, but then the teacher said he couldn’t invite someone three years younger to him. When you had showed up at his farewell party before he left for the States, your hair much longer then, your eyes even prettier under those nerd glasses. When he had seen your selfies with Wonwoo while he was abroad, and an inch of him had wished he could share his new life with you instead of the girls who flocked around him.

But you’re avoiding eye contact like the plague. And he knows it must have been the foolish step on his end to kiss you. So old, and yet no control on his fucking hormones? And yet, how could he, when you continued to talk utter rubbish about the stupid comments about your looks that had been rioting on social media, but he found you just as perfect as the woman he had always dreamt of?

Josh.

A pet name? He mused, as he chewed the steak slowly, savouring it along his tongue. He had tried to make the night lively, bringing up topics he knew you’d want to talk about, but he had failed. Your mood was perhaps permanently damaged now, in spite of whatever uphill improvements he had made in the last month.

But what was marriage if not a labour of love?

Love? Joshua Hong had once been in love with you, for a short time, but now he was not. He knew he was not because he knew it would be unreciprocated. It would be spat upon and crushed with the heels of your shoes and Joshua Hong was a coward. He would never be brave like Mingyu, who was always too courageous for his good, especially after too many drinks. He would never be as determined as Wonwoo, who would turn everything he touched to gold simply with hard work and focus. He would forever be content in the shadows, watching you from aside, waiting for you to look at him with the same want his heart was burning with.

But how long? The ache in his heart had become a familiar friend over these nights. The wish to walk twenty metres and reach your room in lonely midnight hours, and touch your skin with his lips until it cured his insomnia. The wish to see you smile at him without the burden of royal obligations, with genuine care. The wish to hold your hand when you sat together at council meetings, right next to each other, and yet so far apart. How long could he suppress these wishes?

Oh, but he had to. Otherwise he would make mistakes. More mistakes he couldn’t afford to make, such as the mistake of kissing you tonight. There were more mistakes his fingers itched to make, such as brushing his hand on yours across the table when your hand accidentally grabbed his glass of wine instead of your own, such as touching your feet with his own under the table to show you how much he wanted you, such as claiming an emergency and leaving with you right now to beg of you to love him back and let him be yours.

When your plate is clean, and your wine glass empty and you sit back on your chair, a contented look on your face, he wants to kiss you again because it feels like a date. It makes him want to take you on a date. It makes him want to court you and woo you and win your heart as he had originally planned at the age of fourteen.

But even if he had started early, would he ever be able to win your heart? He was simply not good enough for you. Wonwoo had been your perfect fit- both in wit and in warmth. And Joshua, alas, was not. Would never be.

“I'm looking at you, I can't take my eyes off

I don't know what I feel but it's feeling illegal”

“I know there’ll be a time zone difference, but if I call you late at night please pick up because it’ll be urgent.” Otherwise I won’t call you, you felt that the unsaid was quite well implied. You nod. “You eat and sleep well. Don’t get too stressed,” you mumble out, and wave Joshua goodbye as he walks away from you, a cup of coffee in his right hand and his blazer on his left. There’s some international meeting he has to attend, and although the King and Queen had asked you many times to accompany him, you knew it was best to not impose yourself in unwanted spaces. You had given the excuse of spending a few days with your brother, Mingyu, in your childhood home, as you’d been away for too long and you had started missing him, and your parents-in-law had caved in.

“Bye, Joshua!” you call out over the loud noise of the chopper. He stops at your voice, turns back and looks at you once. You think he’s going to walk towards you, his left foot lifted slightly off the ground, but then the bodyguard standing next to him motions him to move towards the helicopter and he puts his foot back on the ground. He whispers goodbye to you, or maybe you just can’t hear him.

It should feel nice to finally get rid of him, you think, as he walks further away from you, now a speck on the horizon. But your heart feels heavy, the journey back home feels empty, and there’s a voice in your head which makes you regret staying back.

“I forgot to pack my blue suit,” he says over speakerphone. Joshua, the silly man he is, couldn’t wait for even an hour after landing, before calling you. As soon as he had landed in London, his fingers had itched to dial the button and call you up but he had resisted. But when he had started unpacking his luggage, he couldn’t stop himself. It’s a gloomy day, the sky overcast with clouds. His assistant is texting him to come to lunch, but he’s not hungry. He wishes he didn’t have to leave you in Korea.

He can hear your laugh on the other side.

“I know, I realised it when I reached home and saw the suit lying on your bed.” “My bed? You went to my room?” There’s a pause. “Umm, yeah… I was actually wondering which perfume you used. I want to buy the same for Mingyu, for Chuseok.” “Oh. Did you find it?” He wonders what else you found.

“Yeah, I did. How’s your suite?”

“Hmm, big?” You laugh again, slightly less awkward.

“It’s obviously big. Is it, like, very fancy, or is it the modern minimalist type?”

“Quite modern, but also fancy. Like there are all these weird lamps- wait let me show you. Do you have time for a video call?”

“Me?”

“Huh, who else am I talking to?”

“Oh. Yeah I mean. One sec! Don’t turn it on until I say so!”

He waits, his heart pumping so loud he can hear it. Then you finally turn on the video call and he sees your face coming through the black screen, and suddenly it’s not gloomy any more in London.

“Hi there.” You smile widely, your bare skin glowing, and he smiles back, almost on instinct. For a second it’s just like that. Showing you the hotel room is a forgotten task, Joshua’s excuse to see your face has worked.

He notices that you’re sitting in your house, as he identifies the different wallpaper easily. “You’ve gone to your house so fast?”

“Hmm, felt like there was nothing to do at home.”

Home. Were you missing him? Could it be-

“Is Mingyu around?”

“Yeah, but he’s calling someone. Practically shooed me from the room when his phone rang. Might be important-”

“Pfft. Important, my foot. Probably a new person he likes.” You smile at his comment, “Yeah probably. When do you think he’ll want to settle down?”

“When he finds someone like I have?”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can even think twice and the truth of what he said only hits him when he suddenly sees your video crashing. “Hey Y/N?”

“Sorry!” Your face is back in focus, all red and flustered. “I dropped my phone. Umm, Josh, I gotta go, there’s someone at the gate.”

“Hmm, okay. See ya?”

You smile at him and wave him a hurried goodbye.

The phone becomes lifeless again.

Shit, he fucked up. Yet again. What are these uncalled-for things he’s doing? And why can’t he just control himself, for god’s sake? It’s not like he… oh god. He’s really messed up now.

There’s something wrong happening. It feels right, but it’s really wrong. You reckon it started from the kiss. Since then everything is changing, bit by bit.

The night after that, he had asked you if you wanted to watch the new film in the theatres, and you had agreed, since you actually wanted to watch it (and not because you wanted to spend more time with him). He had booked out the night show in an entire hall, and the two of you had spent more time giggling over the poorly-made thriller and gasping at the unbelievable action sequences than watching the movie seriously.

Three days after that, you had asked him if he wanted to come swim with you. He knew you had restarted practice but hadn’t said much about it except ask where you were practising.

“Hmm, sure? I mean, if it doesn’t barge into your routine.”

“Joshua, if it did barge in, I wouldn’t have asked you.” He grins, fixing his collar. “Sorry ma’am. I’m free today, when are you going?” “Today?” You weren’t planning on going today at all. “Yeah…” “Umm, in half an hour?” “Cool. Call me when you’re ready.”

And that’s when you realised it was such a mistake to bring him to the pool. Because you were too distracted by him all the time. For two straight hours, you both raced across the 500 metres pool multiple times in a marathon, but towards the end, it became too much fun as you both skipped track divisions and cheated to make it to the end of the race. He would swiftly snatch your goggles and the chlorine would burn your eyes until you had to hold his hands down and get back the goggles from him, all while whining to make him stop laughing like a clown. Sure, you had provoked it first by kicking your leg out midway to smash him in his chest, leaving him dumbfounded and gaining you a solid ten seconds, but this was too extreme an attack.

But at the end of all attacks, he somehow ended up pinning you to the wall of the pool, both too giddy with adrenaline to notice how you had landed in this position.

Thank god the pool was empty.

But your mind was not. You were now extremely aware of his gaze burning into you, his hair wet from the water and bangs falling on his face, his taut chest muscles golden and ripped, his glowing skin looking even more alive.

“I love water.”

“I know, I remember how you used to always have pool parties for your birthdays in school.”

“Hmm, you do?” You’re sure it’s completely platonic, but when he uses his left hand to keep you locked against the pool and his right hand to swipe back his hair from his forehead, there are butterflies in your stomach and you just know you’re blushing. Not even an inch of skin-to-skin contact, just his hungry eyes and you’re dying inside.

“Joshua, I need air.”

“What?” He asks, as if he doesn’t understand.

“I need to breathe.”

“Huh ... you’re breathing, though?”

You bite your lip, and he smirks. You can’t help but think he’s doing it on purpose, but he gently pushes himself away from you, and you take the chance to take deep breaths and rouse yourself to sit on the edge of the pool. He points at you and smirks even deeper.

“I win!” He laughs, his eyes growing bigger in excitement. You laugh too, realising that the moment you got out of water, he had won. But he had won far before that…

He dunks his hair in the water and splashes water over you as he rises up again. You slowly get off the edge and stand up, fixing your clothes. You swear you can see him check you out once, but it may be a figment of your delusions.

“Y/N. I’m hungry.” “Huh?” Did you hear him right? “Yeah, do you wanna get chicken?” Poof.

It feels just like those teenage summer parties he used to host. Just you, Wonwoo, Mingyu, himself, and a couple of other friends from school. You’re feeling just as hot and bothered as then, and he’s looking just as cool as then.

“Sure, but you’re paying. Winner winner, chicken dinner!” And you’re laughing now, as you walk away to the dressing room to take a shower and get dressed again. You just want to escape before he comes out of the water and his body makes you weak in the knees again.

He’s hard.

Joshua Hong is sitting through the middle of the third conference for the day and he’s shit tired at this point. Which has probably made his body want things he doesn’t have. Specifically, you.

So he tries to hide the boner in his suit pants, and he swears under his breath every second because it’s simply impossible. Especially after that picture Mingyu had sent to him a minute ago. He shouldn’t have opened his phone during the conference, but he was too bored.

KMG-[picture]

KMG-in case you’re missing your wifey haha

HJS-what?

KMG-she sure is. she’s whining like a little puppy.

HJS-what?!

KMG-don’t you get it? she’s drunk bro. it’s so obvious?? did you even open the photo?

HJS-i didn’t, sorry. unlike you, i’m in london and it’s afternoon here so i’m at work.

KMG-work?! pfffft. you’re the prince.

HJS-you’re also drunk, gyu.

KMG-not realllly, but defo under the influence seeing that i’m texting you against my better judgement, which is the slap i’m going to get from my sister as soon as she realises who i’m texting.

HJS-jeez. she hates me that much lol.

KMG-huh??? hate? you dumbass???

HJS-can you not curse me? this conference is tiring enough.

KMG-sorry.

KMG-you d*****s???

HJS-what???

KMG-the only thing she’s talking about after eight months of living the royal life is you. and i wouldn’t say you’re the only interesting thing at the palace

HJS-what are you implying

KMG-your assistant is pretty hot

HJS-what? i choked on my water!

KMG-don’t tell me you haven’t noticed

HJS-no i really haven’t.

KMG-eww. what marriage does to a person 101.

HJS-i wouldn’t have noticed otherwise either

KMG-sure, says joshua hong who’s slept with every girl in his uni in the states

HJS-why hasn’t your sister found out that you’re texting me and given you said slap yet?

KMG-oh so you want her to find out that you’re pining for her love?

KMG-you’re so down bad to get her attention huh

KMG-you just wish it was her texting you rn, and not me

KMG-you traitor

HJS-mingyu stop

KMG-you’re missing her so bad

KMG-and she’s missing you too

KMG-ugly missing

KMG-i can see the sadness in her eyeeees

HJS-i think it’s your soju talking

KMG-pls. i can handle my soju v well.

KMG-but you have to admit you’re missing her.

KMG-if you weren’t you wouldn’t have saved that photograph to your gallery

HJS-i didn’t

KMG-liar

HJS-accuser

KMG-cheater

HJS-dumbass

KMG-WHO’S CURSING NOW

KMG-soory this is yn if gyu was disturing you durig he meeing iapopogize. byew

That was a … chat that didn’t help at all. Now his mind is wandering even farther away from the discussion in the conference.

And the photograph.

You in tank tops would really be the death of him. Your silky flesh escaping through the loose edges of the satin tank, your short hair falling casually across your neck, covering up all the places he wanted to kiss. Your tiny mole below your left clavicle, and the way you were smiling, looking at the soju glass in your hand, eyes creasing and lips maroon.

It makes him think of that evening in the pool when he had almost kissed you again, but only the devil in his head knows how hard he had controlled himself from pushing you against the wall of the pool with his chest, feeling your soft skin again his own, and your lips bright red from biting on them all day (they were chapped as he noticed from up-close). He was taller than you even in the pool, and it made him want to devour you even more. Your swimming suit had left nothing to his imagination, the pervert he was.

He hadn’t planned on taking off his shirt that evening. But when he had started feeling the tingling in his dick after seeing the damp swimsuit clinging to your body, he had decided that two can play this game.

And god, he had enjoyed seeing you flustered. It felt amazing to know his body still had that kind of effect on women, especially you. The last he had seen you check him out was several years ago, and even then, his blood had rushed straight to his dick when he had received your attention, just like now. Thank god you both were under water so his trunks didn’t give it all away.

All the thoughts he had conjured up in his mind that night come floating into his mind now. Your husky voice after swimming laps in the pool. Your hair all damp and swept back from your face. Drops of water falling down your neck-

“Mr. Hong?” The lady next to him whispers, and he realises the entire hall has been staring at him. “Your thoughts on how Korea would like to be involved in the new cross-Pacific connectivity project?”

Fuck. Specifically, fuck you. Yes, thank you.

He has called you three times over the period of two days that he’s been away. Tiny calls, not lasting longer than seven minutes in all, but they still count as calls. He has also texted you a little bit, and sent quite a few photographs- a photograph of the brunch he had which had a lot of baked goods reminding him of you since you love baked treats; a photograph of the London Eye which he saw while travelling; a selfie in front of the Big Ben.

And yet you were missing him. You knew it had to be that, because there was no other emotion to pinpoint at the steely ache you felt in your body, a longing for something, a desire to see someone, in vain.

That had caused your outburst that night, when Mingyu had taken out soju and whisky and decided that it was the night to get drunk for the siblings. You were both emotional drunks, Mingyu slightly more teasing and funny than you, but you had straight up started whining about Joshua. Mingyu had, of course, texted him all about it but you had realised it a minute too late when you saw him shut up and focus on the texts on his phone, grinning smugly. You knew it wasn’t the person he liked, because he was specifically frustrated over how they were a goody-two-shoes, slept before 11 pm, and didn’t even go out with co-workers for dinner and drinks. They were a lawyer he knew through social circles, and although they had been talking for some time now, he had yet to make progress into their bedroom.

“But I don’t mind waiting. Aaah, for them I’ll wait forever.” He had giggled, and you had punched him in the back. “Sure, let’s both see where this goes.” You wondered how long this puppy love would last.

You weren’t talking to Mingyu all day because of what he had done the previous night. Not just spread misinformation about you, but also send a photograph of you. You hadn’t been able to read the chats, he had snatched it away from you as soon as you had begun to read them, but you knew he had written enough to damage you when Joshua would come back.

One more day, and your husband would be back.

What did wives do when they missed their husbands?

Call them for hours at night and sleep with their voice on speakerphone? Impossible, you lived in different time zones now. If you called him at night, it would be his afternoon, and if he called you at night, it would be your early morning and you’d be in no mood to sweet talk.

Text more frequently? Again, not possible. There was only so much you would want to do without any expectation of reciprocation.

Send them gifts? A parcel from Korea to London would definitely take a day, if not more. The surprise would be lost.

Send photographs? He did, but you never sent photos to anyone. Anyone. Not even Wonwoo, you were just too shy to send photos. And anyway, nothing special had happened to be worthy of sending photos.

There was truly nothing to do to solve your crisis, but oh, it felt like despair. Two days turned into three, three into four, until you couldn’t wait to have him in front of your eyes again. On the last day, you knew from the clock that this was probably bedtime for him, and you decided to call him. Because he hadn’t called you the entire day before that, and maybe you wanted to hear his voice?

“Hello?”

“Hmm Y/N.” There it was, a voice sounding like mellow honey in a pancake, warm and sweet. “How was your day, Josh?” “Tiring? I’m getting ready to get into bed right now. Wanna switch on videos?”

“Umm, I’ve actually just woken up so I had bed hair-”

Joshua is sending you a request for video call.

“Does it look like I care?” He grins as soon as you switch on your camera, showing him your frazzled hair. “I do! You see me only once in the entire day, I don’t want to look like a stray dog.” “You do look like a stray dog, but you’re cute.” Maybe it’s the morning laziness which hasn’t got off your brain yet, but you melt into his words. “You’re cute too. Your face is all puffy after a day’s work. Did you cleanse well?” “I did. I’m glowing even with the lights off, am I not?” He smirks, and you can’t say he’s lying. Even with the faint nightlight, you can see his features distinctly. He catches you stare at him for too long, and says, “Miss me much? Mingyu-” Your face scrunches up in irritation. “Ignore Mingyu! Ignore whatever he said that day. It was all misinfo. I swear.” “Aww now there, don’t pout.” You don’t even know you’re pouting, but you blush so hard.

It feels so fucking domestic. The bare minimum, and you’re melting into a puddle. It feels like you’ve come home, finally.

“I’m going to eat kimchi jjigae today. I bought the perfume for Mingyu and he didn’t even like it, so I said I’ll take it back because he doesn’t deserve gifts. Then he started whining, saying that he doesn’t want to smell like you because then I’ll get confused between my brother and my-” you pause. You’ve never really said it out loud.

He smiles, devilish but also kind. “Did he keep it then?” “No. I’ve got it back, you can use it. I’m never gifting him anything for Chuseok again.” “When is Chuseok, anyway?” “Next week. You have an entire schedule planned, don’t you remember?”

And then the screen goes black for a few seconds, and then his face returns.

“Hey, someone called. Sorry.”

“No no. Calling so late?”

“She’s actually a friend from college who saw on my twitter update that I’m here in London and wants to meet up.” You mouth an oh, and then he continues. “I guess she had called if we could go party now… you know, for old time’s sake…” he laughs a bit, and then continues, “But I said I’m too tired now, we can go for brunch tomorrow before I return home to Korea.”

You suddenly feel awkward. Out of place. Reminded that you don’t even know him properly, and you shouldn’t dream of waking up with him in the same bed in matching nightclothes.

“Oh, you could extend your trip a bit though? If you have friends you want to meet.”

“No, I just want to get back home and rest a bit. Next week will be hectic.”

“Hmm.”

Then there’s a pause.

“Alright then, I’ll go to sleep. Goodnight Y/N!” And you’re waving him goodnight as he smiles through the camera, before ending the call.

Reality has hit you, real bad. He was never yours. You’ll never be his.

vi.

“But I could never lie to you

I'm going out my mind for you”

On his flight back home, Joshua misses you immensely. If he was being honest, he wished that you’d wait for him at the airport, so that he could hug you as soon as he lands- satisfying a craving to touch you that had haunted him while he was in London. But he knew it was too extreme an expectation. At max, realistically, he could expect you to greet him when he finally reached home after the fourteen hour flight, with a smile. Over the last few weeks he had felt your warmth grow towards him gradually, and thus, this was definitely a realistic expectation in his eyes.

“Her Highness is at a meeting, she asked me to inform you.”

He was stunned at his secretary’s words. “At a meeting? I thought she was with her brother.”

“She is with the Royal Counsel, Sir. They are at a meeting together.”

“At 9.30 pm?”

“It’s a dinner meeting.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“It was finalized just today morning S-”

“And since when are you her secretary too, Seewon? Or has her brother done something-” He sees Seewon’s eyes grow wide and he realises he has overstepped. But what is this searing feeling in his head?

Frustration? Did he really expect you to be waiting there for him? It was absurd, he sees it now. It was absurd to think you treated him any differently than you did a few months ago.

“I’m sorry. I’m just- too tired.”

“Dinner is ready, Sir.”

“Can you get it to my bedroom? I’ll eat there and directly go to bed. I’m too sleepy.”

“Yes, Sir.” Seewon bows deep, but he is already walking away.

“It is for the best, Mingyu-ah.” You reason with your brother for the n-th time as he tries to convince you, futile efforts truly, to confront Joshua about the future of your relationship. “I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me. What we have now is… a nice companionship. We’ve both resigned to the fate that this is it. There’s nothing new going to happen in our love lives, and we’ve accepted it. As a teenager, we probably expected our love lives to be beautiful and magnanimous like in the movies, but this is reality. And you know I’ve never sought romance.”

“We all know why that is.”

“Huh?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly across the table, his eyelids drooping slightly from being tipsy. His shirt is nearly off, the alcohol heating up his body, and in his longer hair, his face looks eerily like yours. Seeing him like this makes you feel colder, and you hug the cardigan closer to your body.

“Wonwoo and I were together. When we found your diary entries about Joshua.”

You’re speechless. How had Wonwoo emitted this very important detail about the biggest secret of your life?

“Hey, Y/N-ie. I know I’m not as close to you as Wonwoo. He was a better friend to you than I could ever be, although we are of the same age. And I know he’d be able to explain this better-”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Now he’s speechless.

Never in his entire life have you called him by his full name, except when you were really frustated over failing your midterms when he had topped the class or when you had suffered the wrath of your parents when it was actually his fault.

“You knew?”

He gulps.

“How come you never said anything to me? I can’t believe Wonwoo- that fucker- that-”

“Hey!”

“No, you don’t get it! I’ve- I’ve kept so many secrets for him. It was our pact you know- never spill secrets. And never keep secrets from each other. I told him everything and he- Oh my god. What else do you know? How much has he betrayed me?”

“Y/N-ie. He didn’t betray anything. It was purely an accident that I was there in the room when he started reading it out aloud. None of us knew what was coming as we started reading that page. And then he swore me to secrecy, and made me promise never to tell you. Made me swear on my face too, can you imagine?”

But you were not in the mood for jokes. Angry, hot tears started rolling down your cheeks. It was truly an uncalled for meltdown, but the tears seemed to be a long time coming.

“I can’t believe you know it. I’m so pathetic-”

“No, aaaah-” He shuffles closer to you, somehow patting your hair, before you smack it away.

“Don’t touch me, Kim Mingyu.”

“Okay, sorry. But Y/N. I don’t think you should be so mad at Wonwoo. In fact I had totally forgotten about it, until-”

“Until?”

“Until Wonwoo said how he was considering proposing to you, to be his Royal Consort.”

You look up at your brother.

“You know why he had proposed.”

“I do. I just thought… maybe if I were him, and if I knew my best friend was in love with my brother-”

“I am not! In love! With his brother!”

“Y/N-aah.”

“It was a teenage thing! A crush! It happens! Hell, Mingyu, you fall in love every week. You don’t have the right to call me out like this!”

“I’m not. But that’s because- that’s just who I am, you know? I feel butterflies and I go for it. I don’t think about it. But you, you’re different. You think twice, thrice, a hundred times, before even feeling something. For the longest time, I thought you didn’t have a heart, you had two brains.”

You scoff a mirthless laugh. “And yet I’m the one stuck in this ugly marriage. How stupid of me. I’m torturing a whole man to fulfill some broken childhood wish of mine- something I don’t even feel anymore. That’s honestly the most pathetic thing in the world.”

“Hey!” Mingyu really wraps his arm around your shoulder now, and unwantedly, you cave into his touch. His body is warm and it feels safe. You haven’t hugged him in a long time, you realise. Wonwoo had always been your cuddling partner, by your side through long days and nights. Wonwoo had been your best friend and so much more. Perhaps your true soulmate.

Wonwoo.

The thought of him brings fresh tears to your eyes, and you’re shaking violently in Mingyu’s arms.

“Y/N. Can you stop beating yourself up? First of all,” you raise your head to look at him, but he shuts you down, “listen to me for once! First of all,” he starts again, “I think you do like him. Maybe it’s not your childhood crush continuing for so long. But somewhere, you do like him. It’s like- a longing you’ve been craving for so long, and now that the sight ebbs closer to you, you can’t help but walk towards it even more.” You look at him again, tears drying up. When did your silly brother become so poetic?

“Second point is. You really shouldn’t beat yourself up for this. He’s - he’s not getting tortured, that’s for sure. He seems really happy to me, and I can read faces well.”

“No, Kim Mingyu, you’re dumb as fuck-”

“No, that’s just what you think! Because you’re my sister. I’m actually very smart. Just like I never think you’re smart, even if you’re a double masters graduate now.”

You sigh. Maybe this was true.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is. Shua hyung doesn’t seem tortured. He talks to me fondly about you, whenever we talk. Yes, he was initially very hesitant. But you know why he was-”

You’re staring at him hard, waiting for him to continue, but he just gulps. Then his eyes widen, and keep widening. Suddenly, he jumps up, and starts jumping in tiny movements.

“Mingyu, have you finally gone mad?”

“He thinks you’re in love with him!”

“What are you saying?” Your jaw drops. “Mingyu, I think you’re really drunk, you should just-”

“Oh my god. Wonwoo Wonwoo. Aigoo, he thinks too far ahead of this time, don’t you think?”

“What are you saying, bro-”

“Even after his death-”

“Do you mean he forethought his death too?”

“No! I mean, of course not. Just. The way things turned out. He really set you up with fate. A true best friend, aah,” leaving you still confused, Mingyu pours the rest of the soju bottle into his glass and drinks it in one go.

“I’m going to bed. I can’t tolerate your nonsense anymore.”

“Hmm, goodnight. Sleep well, cutie sister.”

You throw him a dirty look, and have half a mind to kick his face, but then you feel too tired and you waddle back to your bedroom.

It’s only the next morning that you see his texts and missed calls and call him back. He’s been waiting for the call for hours now, so he picks it up as soon as it starts ringing.

“Y/N!”

“Oh, good morning!”

Your voice sounds groggy. Were you drinking?

“I was w-worried,” he stutters, “Where were you last night?”

“Oh, last night? With Mingyu.”

“Oh. I thought you’d gone for a meeting?”

“Yeah, after that. It was a good one, I’ll send you my notes later. I’m too hungover right now, sorry. Was there anything you needed from me? Any work stuff?”

Your voice? A hope to see you returned to the palace when he wakes up in the morning?

“Nothing. I was just, like I said, worried.”

“Aaah, you shouldn’t have been. I have bodyguards you know. They left me only after they saw me going home with Mingyu.”

“Hmm.”

There’s a pause. He wonders if he should bring up the question of when you plan on coming back. He wonders if you’ll ask him anything about the flight. He wonders if he can ask you what you and Mingyu have been drinking so much over.

“Please don’t worry on my account. Mingyu and I… had some things to discuss. I’ve cleared up my schedule today. I hope you didn’t need me for anything-”

“No. No. Of course not. Enjoy your day.” Even if I won’t.

“Kim Mingyu? Where are you?” As soon as your call with Joshua ends, the painkillers start their magic, and you remember bits and pieces of your conversation last night with your brother. You walk towards his room, but alas, you find him still sleeping in his bed, naked except his underwear, evidently too hot after getting all drunk.

You slap his back sharply, and he jolts up with a groan.

“Kim Y/N!”

“What nonsense were you saying last night? Tell me now, if you have the guts to tell me when sober.”

“Huh?”

Five seconds.

Ten seconds. You give him a glass of water.

Three minutes. You get him painkillers.

Ten minutes. He brushes his teeth.

Thirty minutes, you’re both awake and sober. And yet, radio silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember. What were we talking about last night?”

“Yah! Kim Mingyu! You weren’t that drunk!”

He tilts his head from side to side, putting on a show to recollect, but his face is still blank. You have the urge to slap his head, like one slaps a dysfunctional remote to make it work again. But you fear it’s going to damage his few brain cells forever and irreparably.

“I really don’t remember. I just remember… talking about Wonwoo.”

“Mingyu did you drink after I went to bed?”

“Yes, but that’s-”

“Fuck. No wonder you’re out like a light bulb. Did you finish the entire bottle of whiskey too?”

“Hmm, but-”

“Fuck man! Now I can’t even be sure of my own thoughts.”

“So even you don’t remember! Sucker!”

“No I do! But I was just… wondering if I was delusional or if it was real. Mingyu, try and think hard.”

“Umm, I can’t really think so much so early. And today’s a holiday, for fuck’s sake. Can’t a man relax and wake up on a holiday?”

He huffs and walks out of the room, his hair sticking out weirdly. Oh, your brother. Now you have to verify if the nonsense he spewed last night was indeed true or not. And there is, of course, only one way to do so.

vii.

“Turnin’ me up and back off like this

What do you want? Do you not like it?”

He had to know. Joshua Hong had never felt the pangs of curiosity so wildly as he did now. It was too much to bear. This suspense. These mixed signals from you. This wild fluttering of his heart that he had to forcefully drown out with the rational thoughts from his brain. Not a moment of bliss and yet so much happiness even in this riot.

“Can you make a cute pose for me?”

You stare at him, and then at the camera. “What?” Your reaction makes him smile. “Cute pose!” “Yah! I’m the Princess, not an idol! Why should I make a cute pose!” “Because that’s your vibe! All the media goes wild for your cuteness. That’s why you’re so popular with the young people of our country.”

“I’m popular because of my personality. I’ve raised Mingyu, okay? I know how to deal with kids.”

He’s laughing out loud now, he doesn’t care if his bodyguards are suspicious of the whispered conversation the two of you are sharing.

“But I insist. Cute pose, please?” He winks cutely, his face full of aegyo. He’s always been good at this, the baby face among the brothers. The delicate boyish charm he never lost. The mature, serious look he never gained, unlike Wonwoo.

“Joshua. I’ve never done it,” you whisper back, slightly embarrassed.

“Umm, can you do a V sign for me?”

You do it, and extend your hand ahead of you. “Now bring it up to your eyes.”

You bring the hand to your eyes, and Joshua bends your fingers slightly to make it look cuter. “Cha! Now you’ve got it! Smile!”

He smiles for the selca, and you smile too. But your smile isn’t the real one he’s used to seeing. So he pokes a finger into your cheek, just to get a reaction out of you, and clicks the burst shot at the same time.

He’s right.

You blush, smile and laugh in embarrassed giddiness, all in the series of shots. It’s a small touch, far far shorter than anything he would like to do, insignificant, and mostly friendly. But the effect it has on his heart says otherwise.

At least now he has the shots the PR team asked him to prepare.

“Are you going to send that photo?”

“Of course not if you’re not comfortable!”

“No. That’s… okay. I just think it makes us look too… childish. Not the image the PR team would want to project of us, no?”

“You’re right. I’ll not send it. Sorry, I just wanted to make you comfortable and smile.”

“Pulling my cheek was your idea of making me comfortable?” You gasp, in mock anger.

He leans in, ignoring the way your eyelashes are fluttering from his sudden closeness.

“Did it work or not?”

Your shy smile is the answer he needs to satisfy his curiosity for now.

But the ugly demon never rests, and his mind remains wildly distracted for the rest of the day. Your photoshoot may have been over a long time ago, but he can’t get his mind over the photographs. He’s thankful you let him keep the photograph where his finger touches the soft pulp of your cheeks. It seems like the only thing he can look at right now.

It’s just been six hours since you’re back in the palace for good. Your mind keeps going back to your conversation with Mingyu, but you’re too afraid to approach the issue. You know it’s a hopeless cause, there’s absolutely no way what Mingyu was hinting at was correct. He’s a real dumbass about feeling something, definitely a TJ and not an FP, since he was so shit at perceiving and interpreting feelings. He must have been going off on tangents which weren’t even realistic.

But somewhere within you, the curiosity burned you alive. It was hell, sitting next to Joshua at the council meeting, pretending to listen to industry experts talking scientific lingo which basically amounted to how the new slum restoration and water purification project needed more funding, but you kept thinking of the same loop of thoughts. The fact that he whispered to you little jokes about how boring it all was, his fingers sometimes brushing over the net stocking of your knees when he leaned in to hear you whisper back, drove you absolutely crazy. If his fingers slipped slightly, it would undoubtedly find out how heated your core was.

Joshua and you have schedule after schedule, pending work which had been postponed for the trip, which had to be completed before Chuseok so that the festivities passed smoothly. When the day had started with you two eating breakfast together at a public place (actually a gimmick for media to cover it as a romantic date for the wife who missed her beloved husband) and clicking selfies to be released on his twitter, you had thought that was the end of your togetherness for the day.

But it had seemed to stretch on, when Joshua insisted that you sit with him for all the meetings, to keep him updated on everything he had missed out on, now that you were much more deeply involved in the official world.

“You have a secretary though?” you had chuckled, begging him to take the hint and releasing you from this trap.

“Is it too much to ask for a friend by my side when I face the world?” he had all but pouted, and you had, of course, melted.

It reminded you eerily of what Wonwoo had said when he had proposed you. Brothers did think alike, you think, as you flip the pen over and over waiting for the current presentation on tax revenues to get over. You had already thought of questions in the first few slides, realising some loopholes early on, and now the rest of the presentation is predictable. You are, however, waiting for the presentation to end to pounce with your questions, when your eyes go to what Joshua is scribbling on his notepad.

“Hey, I thought of the same concern,” you whisper, showing your own notes on your tablet.

“Telepathy?” he winks at you, and you smile lightly. “The Prince is too cheerful today. Why all the jokes? Did London steal my serious Joshua?”

He leans in slightly closer, until all you can see is his eyes.

“I missed you. It’s good to be back.”

Then he leans away, and almost on cue, the presenter opens the floor for questions and his secretary prepares the mic for him to speak into it. Your questions are all forgotten, your notes forgotten, so all you can do is stare blankly ahead until your mind registers what he just said.

viii.

싫어 하면, 싫어지면 좋겠어

좋아하는 마음을 멈추고 싶어

“If you hate it, I hope you hate it

I want to stop liking you”

It is two days before Chuseok, but there’s a somewhat half-hearted excitement in the country. It seems like everyone is feeling the same way as you. You’re all reminded of how Wonwoo had suddenly left your side last year, exactly 365 days before this.

Your recent visit to home had actually worsened the incisions your thoughts about Wonwoo made to your heart. It had been fun to curse him for betraying your secret to Mingyu, but deep down, as the date kept approaching, you could not bring yourself to sleep at nights. Every waking moment, you felt the same pain jarring your body as you imagined Wonwoo must have felt in the moment of the car accident.

Mingyu and you had drunk every night for the same reason. When you had come home, you had realised soon he was not quite the happy spirit you knew him to be. And when every conversation of yours led to nostalgic memories of the past, somehow centering around the one friend you both had loved so much, but never really talking about him directly, you realised he was grieving too. He knew how to hide it far better, but you wished he would break the dam for you.

And he did.

All it took was playing the album that Wonwoo had bought for you and Mingyu to celebrate your 18th birthday, the first album all three of you had liked (an utter shock since you had disparate music tastes), and Kim Mingyu was a wailing, blubbering mess. His head on your shoulder as you hugged him, urging him to take it all out, even though snot was all over your sleeve. But it felt relieving to see him free his own heart, for you knew Wonwoo hated it the most when Mingyu tried to hide his feelings and thoughts.

“How do you think he is doing?”

“An angel like him must be doing well, Gyu-ah.”

He had nodded, and you both had silently listened to the album on loop.

It was an album about loss. All the songs definitely hinted at losing a loved one. Some could think of it as a romantic loss, but you and Wonwoo had always thought the singer was speaking of losing anyone close to you- a friend, a family member, any beloved human being, or even a pet. It was so fitting for the moment, and you cried too. Ultimately you both had fallen asleep on the couch, for the first time in forever, the two of you on the same couch, cuddling in a desperate attempt to comfort each other.

Once back in the palace, the familiar comfort of your brother, both basking in the shared shadow of grief, was absent. This was an environment you still hesitated to call home, in spite of spending a huge amount of your life between these walls.

Because there is no longer a spectacled calm sea of love called Wonwoo by your side to tie you in during the high tides of anguish, pain and nervousness. To set you free from the clutches of overthinking and the burdens of your own intelligence. To help you escape from the depths of your mind and heart, and see the world that was beautiful without any dangerous inhibitions.

There is another person sitting next to you now, kneeling before the elaborately framed, smiling photograph of Wonwoo that is before you, surrounded by candles and flowers as the Royal Family pays their respects to the death of their maknae. Not just the King and Queen are shedding tears, the thundering sky too seems to be crying too and drowning away the tears of the world with its louder downpour. You want to be stoic, but the wetness on the rim of your eyes are unavoidable. But there are no tears in Joshua’s eyes. His eyes are dark, full of an emotion you cannot place, and suddenly you feel very distant from him.

It is this feeling, primarily, that sets off the tears in you more wildly. The only person you expect to be on your side now seems to be so far away, and it seems so cruel that you cannot help the sudden tears that escape you now. The distanced coldness in Joshua is gone as soon as he sees you in this state, reaching out to hug you, but you can't control yourself. He pulls you in one corner, thankfully, and pats your back until you’re more yourself.

“How are you holding up like this?”

He has the audacity to shrug and break your heart even more. What cruel curse is this that the person you loved the most has not only left your side, but now there is someone you’re left with, who will never love you?

“I’ve been training myself to harden my heart. I cannot cry before my parents, they need me to be strong.”

“But what about yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel.”

“It does to me.”

He looks up at you, you’re still cowering next to him, your knees pulled up to your chest as you hope to feel warmer.

“There is something comforting in knowing that I’m not the only one who feels like their heart is being broken to pieces by a hammer.”

He winces, but puts a hand around your own.

“If it means anything, it does feel like that to me too. Probably not as bad as you though.”

“But you’re his brother. You’ve known him for longer than I have.”

“But there is nothing stronger than the loss of a lover. Not even the loss of a family member.”

Then someone calls out for him from the crowds, and you’re left to yourself again, as you try to make sense of what he said.

“This is the album we used to listen to all the time. Wonwoo, Mingyu and I.” You show him a faded album cover, and he reads the title.

“Can I listen to it, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course. I wanted to share it with you. Shared grief, you know?” You chuckle, as Joshua goes up to play the album. The first few songs are not even remotely sad, but he can see a tear rolling down your cheeks already. You jerk away the cup of cinnamon coffee from yourself, to prevent it from becoming salty.

When it finishes playing, Joshua lets out a long sigh he doesn’t even know he’s been holding in. This really confirms it for him. It breaks his heart a little more, although he’s known this for years, probably, but it still hurts.

“It’s a very moving album.”

“Hmm. The lyrics are almost poetry.”

“Yes. The way the singer describes the grief of losing a lover…. No wonder you could feel it so deeply.”

You’re looking at him funnily, and he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not about losing a lover. I think it’s about losing any person who was close to you… the feeling of missing a beloved is not limited to romantic relationships, you know? Do you not feel the same way? Your calmness scares me.”

“No, I… I don’t know how to feel. It does hurt, a lot. But… somehow, the last year has been very hard for me. It’s changed the way I feel things, I think…”

And then you hug him, your fingers squeezing his shoulder blades. You’re impossibly close to him on the sofa, but he can’t hug you back. Not when you’ve literally shown him the album right now.

Not when he knows it for sure that his love for you will be forever unrequited.

He can speak again only when you shift away from him again, breaking the hug.

“Y/N, I… This was the world I wanted to avoid the most. I wanted to run away from it so bad. I did everything I could in the US to convince myself and my family to let me stay away, to prove that I was better off living away. And I had selfishly, left everything to my little brother, who was suddenly pushed into all this without expecting it. And I feel like a terrible person. I don’t deserve to cry-”

“Hey! Wonwoo never thought like that. He knew your reasons, and he never once complained about them.”

“Did he speak to you about it ever? I just feel like a piece of shit for leaving him in the middle of it all, instead of being the reliable hyung he should have leaned his back on and enjoyed the youthful days of his life. I can’t help but feel-”

And he does what he has tried to avoid all day. He doesn’t know what triggers it- your pats on his arm, the way your eyes are glued to his, or the memories of Wonwoo finally flooding his rationale.

“You’re not responsible for his death, Joshua. You deserve to grieve, but do not beat yourself up. He never complained about anything. If anything, he knew he was a natural at this.”

“But Y/N that’s no consolation! I failed him!” He’s positively bawling now, and you shuffle to take him in an embrace again. He fights it at first, whispering something about snot, but you only chuckle and pull him in closer. There are several moments of silence after this, while he continues to sniffle in the crook of your neck.

“The days after he left, they were hell for me. I would hallucinate, I think. I saw him in my dreams, when I woke up I would call out his name, while eating or doing any work I would talk to myself, addressing myself with his name. Everyone thought I was going to lose my mind, but then… I reeled myself in. My stronger sense of intelligence stopped my emotional senses from losing it all.”

“You’re very strong, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do if I lost my lover.”

There’s another moment of silence. Joshua feels his heart beating fast, but then there is another heartbeat bursting in his ears, and it’s way faster than his.

He realises it is yours.

“Wonwoo and I… were never lovers, Joshua. I don’t know why you keep thinking that?”

Suddenly, his world is spinning. Joshua Hong doesn’t know what to say.

“What?”

He moves his body backward to look at you, to see if you’re fucking with him. It’s a cruel joke-

“Wonwoo and I were never in love. Romantically.”

“But you were engaged?”

He sees you take a deep breath in, and his eyes are bigger than the sun as he waits for you to answer. It’s a do-or-die moment for him. He keeps searching your eyes for any sign of a joke, but you look dead serious.

“That’s because… because Wonwoo was gay. He liked my brother. But he could never come out before the world, he knew he would die by public guillotine if he did that. So he decided to do the next best thing to marrying the love of his life. He decided to marry his best friend. That’s all.”

“Marrying his best friend? Wonwoo gay?”

“Yes,” he’s definitely delusional right now. He’s hearing all sorts of bullshit. This is why he was reigning in the tide. Too many tears and he’s light-headed. Drunk in his own pathetic feelings.

“He asked me about his dilemma, and what he was thinking of doing as a solution. We agreed to it as the best thing. I would support him in this tough journey, he knew that. And I knew that it was better to marry him than spend my life in an arranged marriage because I was not even looking for love-”

“Not looking for love?”

It’s your turn to look like your breath had been knocked out of your lungs, but you quickly recover, when you whisper to him, your voice suddenly far softer.

“Joshua…”

“Why did Wonwoo spoil your chances of finding love? You could have found love, you know?”

“Not when the only man I have ever loved was millions of miles away from me.”

No, he’s delusional for sure. It can’t be- no- never…

He sees you freeze, standing up, and suddenly the room is too cold in spite of it being the middle of September. Your body steps away from him, but he can’t move. Can’t seem to get a word out of his mouth, not a single thought in his mind.

“Oh. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

And then you sprint, shutting the door behind you, and Joshua still can’t move a limb.

ix.

“I love the way that you're designed

Love thе way we intertwine

Still don't need a rеason why

You're beautiful and now you're mine”

It seems like an eternity before you can stop crying. An eternity of unrequited love is burning itself down to atoms in your heart, and your whole body seems to be out of control. It’s been a long day, worn down by the grief of losing your friend, and now the pain of ruining the one friendship you had left.

As a teenager, you had anticipated this moment several times. Especially during the sleepless summer nights, when you would wonder how it would be if you ever confessed to Joshua. You had almost done it too, on so many occasions which kept floating to your brain now. When he had come to see you at your first debate finals in school, and he had hugged you after you had won, and treated you (and Wonwoo and Mingyu, who were your teammates) to bulgogi japchae and fried chicken. When he had patted your hair after you had scored your first goal in football, one of the many games you played with the boys. When he had given you the extra piece of dumpling from his plate because there were no more left and you had just remarked that it was the best dumpling you’d ever eaten.

You are so lost in your own thoughts that you miss the footsteps behind you. A shame truly because Joshua is extremely loud in his running. Anyone in their right minds would be able to hear him from miles away. But not you. Your mind is blocked too much with echoes of your own voice, pathetic as you must have sounded when you had confessed your silly little infatuation.

An infatuation that had lasted the struggles of time.

All the lies you had always said. Not looking for love. Focused on my career right now. Too busy to date. I don’t believe in soulmates and that shit. All excruciatingly stupid excuses to hide the ache your heart made even after years, just at the thought of Joshua Hong. Even when you knew very well he was way out of your league and too far away, physically and emotionally from you, you had chosen him over any other person up your way. That fact in itself was so wretched: you had, like a fool, chosen him over and over, giving up any opportunities to embrace a now that would gratify the innate human need for romance, in hope for an extremely uncertain future. Over Yoon Jeonghan, who had fluttered his pretty lashes and drawled in his cherry sweet voice- but you were insecure that he was way more beautiful than you, and the only reason he was going on dates with you was to boost his ego about his own beauty. Over Xu Minghao, the calm, witty and incredibly romantic boy who matched you in every way possible, almost designed to be your soulmate by your own admission- but even the easily affectionate days you enjoyed with him in your college days had been overshadowed by the flickers of hope that one day, you would make Joshua’s heart race in the same burning, desperate way he still made yours race.

Your body is exhausted from the overdrive.

You’ve cried too much, it’s sucked out all the moisture from your system. You’ve not eaten in hours, and the pain of your heart is overcoming you in whole. So you let sleep take over you, expanding the memories to erase any sense of consciousness you retained for so long in vain.

Sickening how you’re dreaming of him even in your sleep. It’s extremely hazy, but you see his face smiling down at you, the dawn covering his features with shades of pink and orange that make his eyes glitter even more brightly than usual.

He’s an angel, you think.

Except your body is feeling too warm for it to be a dream. His smile seems to grow wider, and you can slowly see more of his face.

Then he bends down to kiss your forehead. Then you’re asleep again.

When you finally wake up, he’s still staring at you. The slow breaths you take and release as you sleep so calmly in his lap, your head ever so lightly shifting from time to time. The edge of the wooden bench pokes his waist, but he would bear anything to see you sleeping in his arms like this. He can scarcely believe it, and he’s afraid that if he moves even a bit, it will disappear, like a myth he had gaslit himself into believing.

So when you finally wake up, he can’t help but smile at you. The smile that’s been stuck on his lips ever since he realised seven hours ago, that you loved him back. That he was not an absolute fool in hoping he could make you his. That he was not the only one whose heart burned with the desire to touch you every time he saw you.

He finally understood your point about shared grief.

As the stars disappeared when the sun rose, he quietly prayed to Wonwoo. It was mean and selfish, to be grateful to him for bringing you to him by giving up his life. But he was able to ignore the demons in his head by thinking that the kind soul Wonwoo was, he had always brought you to him, he was the only one who had pushed you away in spite of his unending efforts.

Hyung, can you come watch our debate finals? Y/N and Mingyu are also here…

Hyung, let’s call Y/N for your birthday too! She’s your friend too…

Hyung, can you help me choose which photos to post for Y/N’s birthday? I can’t choose, she’s too cute in all of them…

And he had saved all the photos. You were not just cute in all of them, but also the most elegant and beautiful lady he had seen. He was sure he found it harder than Wonwoo to pick just three photos, but he had to suppress the storms that blast his heart from time to time whenever he thought of you.

To think that you were in his arms now, waking up on a beautiful, clear, warm morning, your soft body shifting against his own. Your bright eyes finally opening to see him, as he continues to smile at you, urging you to wake up so that he could finally see the stars in your eyes, although they were long gone from the skies.

“Good morning, princess.”

You’re hallucinating. Or you’re just still sleeping.

But it feels too real. Joshua’s warm body engulfs you as you wake up.

“Good morning, princess,” he says again when he thinks you haven’t heard him. Oh, but you have.

“Joshua?” your voice is cracked, from sleep and tears.

“Yes, Y/N?”

His voice is like honey dripping from a fountain of all things sweet and delicate.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at you?”

“What? Why?” you’re genuinely confused as you try to get up, but his strong arms prevent you, and keep you trapped in the warmth of his soft lap.

“Because I’ve waited for thirteen years to see you wake up in my arms. And I’m not letting go now.”

You have to sit up now, so you resist his arms, and sit up, your body twisting to face Joshua.

“What are you saying, Joshua Hong?” A single tear rolls down your cheek, fighting the urge to smile before you’re fully convinced this is real.

“I love you, Kim Y/N. I have, forever. Ever since I realised what love is. I never-”

“What?” Your jaw is open, so he smiles at the sight.

“I never imagined you would like me back.” His voice is softer as he leans closer to you.

You touch his cheek slowly, hesitantly, before completing placing your palm on cheek as he leans into your touch. It’s not real. No. You’re…

“Are you for real?” He smiles again, that angelic smile.

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“Are you kidding me? Joshua! Please don’t joke with me. I’m dead serious!”

“So am I!” His eyes go wide, and you know now for sure.

It’s still so unreal, that you’re suddenly overcome by embarrassment and you hide your face in his shoulder. He chuckles, a melodic sound.

“Y/N, will you have me as yours?”

You can’t even look up at him, unable to look at the way he’s looking at you. The loving gaze in his eyes that makes your stomach somersault. You better get used to it, Y/N, you tell yourself.

“As long as you want me as yours.”

“Always have, princess. And always will.”

“Spend a summer or a lifetime with me

Let me take you to the place of your dreams”

The next few days are a dream. A dream you had never dared to dream for longer than five seconds. But now, it seemed to engulf your entire existence.

For loving and being loved by Joshua Hong is a happy heaven beyond imagination. It’s waking up, in his arms for the first time, on wooden benches in the lawns. It’s waking up next to him, in his arms again, as the sun catches your eyes and breaks your slumber. It’s waking up to the scent of rose and vanilla, which you think is his natural scent even without any perfume.

It’s also sleeping in his warm embrace. It’s sleeping with minimal clothes but still feeling hot in the night because of how closely your bodies are entangled. It’s sleeping with your faces touching each others, so close you’re breathing in the carbon dioxide he is exhaling.

It’s an elixir that adds a million years to your life.

It’s a honeymoon phase you know will never end. Not as long as Joshua Hong looks at you with the edges of his eyes crinkling up in explicable fondness, when you explain to him why it’s not correct to use each other’s toothbrushes. Not as long as he kisses you all over your neck and shoulders, complaining about how you had teased him for months in your tank tops. Not as long as he knocks out the breath from your lungs whenever you look at him, and you know that’s a feeling that’s never going to go away.

Or maybe it is just the happiness of Chuseok that permeates into you now, making you feel happier than ever.

Joshua knows this is what a dream coming true looks like. It looks like you wearing the softest, fluffiest yellow hanbok, designed to match with his own golden hanbok. Your hair is pushed back, revealing your full cheeks even more prominently, and when you smile, you look like the cutest strawberry.

As you walk up to him, still blushing, as the flashes of the cameras go off, he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I’m so lucky to be your husband.”

“Shut up! Don’t make me more shy than I already am.”

He latches his own arm to yours as you both bow to the crowds waiting ahead of you to open the celebrations for the day.

“I love it when you’re shyly blushing like that. Boosts my ego like nothing else.”

“God, Joshua Hong! You menace!”

“I know,” he whispers later at night, in your ears, almost a low growl, when you say the words again to him, but the annoyance in your voice is now overcome by a desperate neediness that not just boosts his ego but also shoots straight to his dick. For Joshua can’t think without his dick these days. Not when he strips you out of the hanbok, thanking god you had hidden up your curves all day, because if he knew you were wearing his favourite pearly white bra today, he’d not be able to function all day. Not when he kisses your nipples with growing fondness, having quickly realised how sensitive your breasts were. Not when his fingers slide easily into your wet cunt, almost like a habit now after the last few nights.

He can cry thinking of how many times he’s imagined this, but when finally sinks himself into you, he loses it. Every fucking time he does it, he loses it.

Tonight, he flips you to sit you down on him, and your eyes are going wide at the new angle, and you try bouncing on him, eager to make him feel good. And you are making him feel amazing, especially when he feels your breasts bounce on his face as he licks the valley between them. But he knows you’re getting tired with how many times his dick slips out when you raise yourself and you have to push yourself back again.

“Let me help you, baby.” And he thrusts himself up into you, causing a scream to leave your mouth, as you lean back against his knees. “You feel so good, Josh! Aaah- aah-” he cuts off your words and makes them into moans with his continuous thrusts. He whispers little words of encouragement to bring your orgasm faster as he feels himself getting closer with every little clench of your cunt. And when you finally cum, he shakes all over and cums into you too. Thank god you gave him the green light to fuck you raw, as you were habituated to your birth control pills.

“I love you,” he says even later into the night, when he’s kissing you again, the post-orgasm bliss dissipating into a soft love that seals you both into a bubble of love that he thinks can never be broken.

“I love you too, Joshua.” You kiss his forehead, and wrap your legs around him. As he feels his breathing stabilise against your own, he knows he wants nothing else from life.

#joshua #hong jisoo #svt #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt fluff #joshua fluff #joshua x reader #seventeen joshua #seventeen fanfic #double take joshua #seventeen hong jisoo #joshua angst #joshua smut #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #seventeen fic

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mooniiify · 5 months ago

Note

Lexiiiiii

I go insane thinking about the idea of Wriothsley when he was still imprisoned at the fortress as a prisoner, and hes ended up in a super sweet but also painstakingly angsty star crossed lover situation with the current Duke's son/daughter/gn!reader

It's forbidden but stolen glances and if he starts fighting in the pancration ring to try and show off to reader, and gets beat up and reader goes to tend to him and wriothsley protects reader from any other prisoners trying to overstep and mess with reader because of their negative feelings for her father and aaaa reader sneaks into their dad's office to find wriothsleys record because they can't believe he could ever hurt anyone then they find out and - RIP MY HEART OUT ALREADYY

the girl from the fortress and the convict | wriothesley x reader

word count: 4.3k cw: fem! reader, use of y/n, fluff and a lil angst towards the end, making out but nothing explicit, not proofread! notes: i think i got a little carried off with this request bc it SO GOOD thank you anon <3 this could've been longer but i was feeling a lil uncreative sorry, hope you enjoy it anyway!

She was no inmate, yet she was bound to a life in prison, wether she liked it or not. The Fortress of Meropede was all she knew, having been born and raised within the metal structure. There were few times where her father had taken pity on her as a child and brought her outside with him, though that was always only due to him having work in the overworld. Besides that, she didn't particularly like hanging around her father, anyway.

Her life was boring, but she was used to it.

The inmates never interested her, mostly due to them always being older than her. It was to be expected, of course, due to crime rates among younger people much much lower, if not non-existend in Fontaine.

That was until when she was just seventeen, when she'd heard whispers of a young boy, supposedly around her age, being sent to the Fortress. She hadn't seen him yet, though all the rumours about him piqued her interest.

It was about three months after she'd first heard of his inprisonment that she heard about him fighting at the pankration ring. She wasn't allowed there, her father would kill her if he found out, but what was life without a little risk?

With a mask over the lower half of her face and her head low, Y/n managed to sneak into the rink with no trouble. She stood to the side, watching, making sure no one was approaching her.

The spirits were high, chatter filling the arena. They were talking about the newbie who'd started climbing the ranks quickly, and that was when she'd first heard of his name. Wriothesley. She wondered what a person with such an interesting, noble name would look like.

An announcer got on the rink, no mircophone since it was still, after all, a prison, yelling over to the audience. ''On the left corner, we have the beast that is he is in the rink, the monster he unleashes against those who dare challenge him, I want to hear your applaus for Dougier!''

A rather buff man appeared on the stage, his hands in the air as he enjoyed the praise. Y/n clapped along, still hidded in the back and trying not to stand out.

Once the cheers died down, the announcer continued. ''Now, in the right corner, we have the newest rising star in the pankration rink, the one with iron fists, go off for . . . Wriothesley!''

Y/n stood straighter at the name, her eyes stuck on the rink. Up walked the youngest inmate she'd seen around. His black hair was tousled, his eyes icy like the vision that hung on his hip. His attire was simple, his boots heavy. She watched him as he pulled on the Cryo Vision and flung it to the side, it falling near the corner. No one dared touch it. Y/n wondered how no one has stolen it yet.

The two fighters got into position, fists in the air. Y/n watched as the bigger man flung himself at Wriothesley, who expertly dodged before throwing a punch in his gut. He was moving so quick Y/n could barely follow, and before she knew it, the buff man was on the ground, knocked out. The announcer grabbed Wriothesley's arm and put it up, declaring him winner.

Wriothesley seemed rather indifferent to his victory. He walked off the stage as the other man had to be hauled away, making his way towards the betting table where he was able to recieve his payment for the win. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, watching as he waited for his coupons to be counted.

She kicked off the wall she'd been leaning on, manneuvering through the people. She was planning to leave at first, then noticed the Cryo Vision still on the edge of the rink, Wriothesley seeming none the wiser. She contemplated for a moment, then seized the chance, picking up the vision and making her way towards Wriothesley.

He'd just recieved his coupons when Y/n tapped him on the shoulder, mask down as to seem more inviting, holding out his vision. ''You forgot this.''

Wriothesley seemed stunned for a moment, staring in her eyes. Y/n was no different, taking a closer look to his face. There was a small scar under his eye that seemed to be almost healed, so it must've been rather recent. She couldn't help but wonder how he'd gotten it.

He was the first one to shake himself off. ''Thank you.'' He took the vision, reattaching it to his belt. ''Sorry, I didn't catch your name?''

''It's Y/n,'' she said, holding onto her mask. ''I'll see you around, Wriothesley.''

''Hey, wait━''

She didn't. She walked away, her mask back on, convering the small smile on her face.

The Fortress wasn't the biggest place in Teyvat, yet it took a few days before Y/n finally spotted Wriothesley again. He was at the canteen at the same time she was making her way there, sitting alone to the side. She understood, though. Everyone else was much older than them. It was weird.

She picked up her food, the most appetizing one of the day, and made her way to Wriothesley with her tray. ''This seat taken?''

Wriothesley looked up, one of his cheeks stuffed with food. He quickly swallowed down his food, clearing his throat. ''No, go ahead.''

Y/n sat down, putting her tray down. She looked over at Wriothesley's, noticing he'd gotten the welfare meal of the day. It didn't look nearly as appetizing as hers. She looked down at her tray, at the bowl with mashed potatoes. Picking it up, she placed it on Wriothesley's tray. ''Here. Have at least one actually edible thing.''

Wriothesley furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her. ''Doesn't this cost, like, a bunch of coupons? Don't just give it to me.''

''Just accept the gift, will you?'' Y/n said as she picked up her fork. ''Call it the forging of our friendship, or whatever.''

Wriothesley quirked his eyebrows. ''Since when are we friends?''

''Since we, my dear friend, are the only people of our age in this hell of a place,'' Y/n said as she messed with her food with her fork. ''Trust me, I've checked. Unless you want to hang out with all the oldies, that is. I can gladly take my mashed potatoes back.''

''No, it's . . . it's fine.'' Wriothesley said, taking a bite of her offer, humming. ''It really is good. At least, better than anything else I've had so far.''

The rest of the lunch passed in silence, which Y/n didn't find awkward. Wriothesley opened his mouth a few times, as if he wanted to speak, but never went through with it, so neither did Y/n. At the end of their meal, both of them returned their trays, Y/n looking at him with her arms crossed and a smile. ''Same time tomorrow?''

''. . . Right.''

They kept up their silent lunches for a week. It was nice, finally having company and not having to bring her lunch back to her room so it wouldn't feel awkward with all the other inmates. Then, one day, Wriothesley finally dared ask her a question.

''How long have you been here for?'' he asked, making Y/n look up at him. ''I mean, you seem oddly experienced about the Fortress, considering you're about the same age as me. You must've done something insane to have come here even before me.''

Y/n hummed, tapping her plate with her fork twice before answering. ''I've been here since birth.''

Wriothesley furrowed his eyebrows. ''What?''

Before Y/n could answer, she felt a looming presence behind her. Looking back, she made eye contact with Dougier, the same convict Wriothesley had beaten just a week before. He stood behind her with his arms crossed, but looking at Wriothesley.

''Well, look what we have here. The newbie sweet-talking his way to the Administrator's daughter's pants.''

Y/n watched as Wriothesley's eyes widened slightly. It wouldn't have been really noticable if she hadn't spent the last week observing every possible expression and manneurism he would show in her presence.

''I'm not sweet-talking myself into anything.'' Wriothesley's eyes narrowed at the man. ''I apologize that I happen to be a better company to some.''

''You━'' Dougier stopped himself before he could throw a punch at Wriothesley, then looked at Y/n. ''So, seems like after all this time, you've finally found yourself a boy-toy? I'm not sure how well your father would take that in.''

''What, are you going to go tattle-tale to my dad now? What are you, twelve?'' Y/n challenged, seemingly making Dougier even madder.

''You little━''

''How about you leave the girl alone?'' Wriothesley stepped in before any filthy words can be uttered in her direction, crossing his arms in front of his chest. ''Do I need to send you running with your tail between your legs again?''

Dougier only scoffed, sent each of them a last look, then left. Y/n chuckled as she looked at Wriothesley. ''Thanks for that, but I had it handled.''

''Oh, I could tell, Miss Administrator's Daughter,'' Wriothesley said, leaning on his forearms on the table, eyebrows raised. ''Why didn't you say anything?''

Y/n shrugged. ''Not like we've really talked. But, you know now, so. Truthfully, I don't really talk to anyone here because they're scared of getting on my father's bad side, so they mostly avoid me, except to tease me, as you just saw. I don't really rat anyone out because I don't care.'' She looked down, playing with her food. ''Now's the moment to get up and leave, if you're also scared of the Administrator.''

Truthfully, she expected him to stand up and walk away. When she didn't hear any movement, she looked up and noticed him still rooted in his position, his eyebrows raised. ''What? You think I'm some sort of a coward?''

Y/n smiled at him, genuenly for the first time since she'd actually met him. ''No, not really.''

She thought that from that day on, their relationship would blossom, in one way or another. That was, until she was called into her father's office later that same day, urgency written all over the guard's face.

She made it in, seeing her father in his chair. She's rarely seen him out of it, really. ''You called for me, father?''

''I hear you've been getting cozy with a new inmate.'' Her father took a smoke of his pipe despite the poor ventilation in his office. ''Wriothesley, isn't it?''

Y/n sighed. ''Look, I don't know what Dougier or anyone else told you, but Wriothesley and I are just friends.''

''You cannot be friends with convicts, Y/n.''

Y/n scoffed. ''If you haven't noticed, you've kept me stuck here my whole life. I don't really have much of a choice.''

''I have no time to deal with you. If you do not stop associating yourself with that boy, I will have no choice but to punish him instead.''

Y/n's breath hitched. She watched her father as he got back to work, essentially showing her the conversation was over. She opened her mouth, wanting to protest, but there was no point. She stomped out of his office, straight to her room.

The next day, she went to the cafeteria to pick up her lunch. A note was stuffed away in her pocket, her eyes scanning the area, falling on Wriothesley. He was sat on their usual table, already waiting, his lunch untouched.

Y/n walked over to the table, seeing the small smirk appear on his lips. ''Well, look who decided to━''

Y/n slammed her hand on the table, startling Wriothesley. ''I can't hang out with you anymore,'' was all she said before she walked away, leaving a confused Wriothesley behind. He watched her as she picked up her lunch, then made her way away from the cafeteria.

He looked down at his tray puzzled. Something white caught his eye, just where Y/n's hand had slammed on the table. He quickly took it, looking around to make sure no one was looking at him. Unfolding it, he was met in a few sentences. The handwriting was rather neat.

Dougier ratted me out to my father, and he doesn't want us to hang out anymore. He said if he hears of us again, he will hurt you. I'll wait for you at the infirmary, Sigewinne won't tell on us, so we can talk later tonight. If you're willing to take the risk, that is. Since you're no coward.

Wriothesley stared at the note, re-reading it a few times. He thought of Y/n and how cold expression had looked just moments before, but it all must've been a mask. He wondered if it was worth it. He'd only known her for a week. Was it worth risking making his life even more miserable for a girl he barely knew? They've talked twice for the whole time they've known each other.

Y/n sat on one of the infirmary beds that night. Sigewinne was gone, treating someone in their own room. Her feet dangled over the bed as she waited, playing with an icy dagger she'd created with her own vision. When she heard footsteps approaching, she let it disappear, standing up.

Wriothesley appeared atop the stairs, looking down at her. He stood there for a moment, staring at her before he made his way down. The two stood face to face, a little too close for comfort, normally. Each of their arms was crossed over their chests.

''So.'' Wriothesley was the one to start. ''You father would hurt me if he finds me with you again?''

''Mhm.''

''Which means if we want to be friends, we have to sneak around?''

''Precisely.''

''What do I get out of all of this, if we don't count potentially getting my teeth knocked out of my mouth if caught?''

''Well, you get my amazing friendship, first of all, filled with my sparkling personality,'' Y/n explained, doing jazz hands for emphasis. ''And you also prove you're not a pussy.''

''Hm. Sounds like a deal.''

Y/n was rigth at the end. Their friendship continued, though descreetly. They no longer dared have lunch together, but getting dinner at odd times and eating it in the infirmary with Sigewinne was nice. Every time they would pass each other anywhere, each of them would be unable not to steal a glance at the other. Y/n wasn't required to work since her father gave her as many coupons as she needed, but she'd made a habit of visiting the work stations under the pretense of checking how the work was going, definitely not just to stare at Wriothesley.

She was, after all, just a girl. And Wriothesley was kind, attractive, caring and funny. Everything she'd learned she wanted in a guy from all the books she'd read.

Wriothesley had informed her he was fighting that night, so she'd snuck into the pankration ring again, back in with her mask. She watched as Wriothesley was once again declared victorious. His face was still rather stoic, his eyes looking over the crowd. Once he found her face, a smirk broke out on his lips, making Y/n roll her eyes.

His next match he won again, though this time not unscated. Once he walked off the rink, Y/n rushed by his side, worry driving her, not caring about anyone seeing her. ''Are you alright?'' she asked as soon as she'd reached him. There was blood coming out of his mouth and he was clutching his side.

''I'm fine.''

''You're not. Come on, let's get you to Sigewinne.''

Y/n used her vision to keep her hands cold as she held onto Wriothesley's side where he'd gotten punched pretty badly, trying to soothe him as best as he can. The infirmary was empty when they made it and Sigewinne worked her magic on him immediatelly, while Y/n cleaned the blood off his face.

Once he was patched and ordered bed rest, Sigewinne left to attend other matters, leaving the two alone once again. Y/n sat on the bed next to him as he continued to lay, watching him despite his closed eyes.

''Are you feeling better?'' she whispered in case he was asleep.

''Yeah.'' Wriothesley's eyes opened and he moved to sit up, leaning his elbows on his knees. ''Thanks.''

''Yeah, no worries.''

The two stared at each other's eyes, slowly leaning in simultaneously. The moment their lips met, Y/n was glad she'd cleaned the blood off.

Wriothesley's arms found their way to her waist, holding on. Y/n held his neck, pulling him closer, humming into the kiss at the satisfaction. When they pulled back, they rested their foreheads on each other's, eyes closed. Y/n moved one of her hands up to his cheek, caressing it as she spoke the words that were either going to ruin or make everything.

''You're not doing this because I'm the only girl available, are you?''

Wriothesley chuckled, his warm breath hitting her face, sending shivers down her spine. ''I'm doing this because you're the best girl I've ever met.''

Right. Wriothesley, unlike her, hadn't spent his whole life stuck here. She opened her eyes, taking a quick glance at the now fully-healed scar under his eye. She ran her thumb over it, unable to help the corners of her lips twitching up. Wriothesley also opened his eyes, seeing the smile on her face and kissing it right away, his lips matching hers.

For the first time in her life, Y/n felt the thrill of life.

From then on, it was sneaking off, stolen kisses and glances. They would be in a random hallway, away from praying eyes as Wriothesley would have her pressed against one of the cold, metal walls, his lips on hers as he held her tightly, keeping her legs wrapped around him. Y/n giggled into the kiss, at his touches, at the comfort he gave her.

They were in the infirmary, laying on one of the beds, side to side. They faced each other, none of their limbs really touching, but it felt oddly intimate. ''Tell me something, Wriothesley.'' He hummed as a response. ''How is it in the overworld?''

''The overworld?'' Wriothesley looked like he was thinking for a moment. ''I mean, it's pretty nice, I think. Have you never been out?''

''A few times. Only to the Opera Epiclese and back, when I was really young. I don't remember much.''

''Hm, I see. I mean, I lived a little outside of the city, so we were always surrounded by nature, which was pretty nice. The grass was always green and there was a field of flowers my siblings and I used to like playing at. My favorites were the rainbow roses.''

''Oh, I've read about those,'' Y/n said. ''Never seen them, though.''

Silence fell between them. Wriothesley kept looking all over her face and seemed like he wanted to say something, but he kept silent. Regardless, there was some sort of a promise hanging in the air, though Y/n wasn't exactly sure what.

She'd snuck into his room one night, thankful he wasn't sharing with anyone at the moment. His bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as hers, but laying on his chest felt much warmer than under her own blanket. He was playing with her hair, pressing the occasional kiss on the crown of her head. Y/n would've fallen asleep had it not been for the question that was plaguing her mind.

''Wrio, I want to ask you something.''

''What is it, princess?''

Y/n moved to sit up on her folded legs, watching as Wriothesley followed, leaning his back on the railing behidn his bed. Y/n took a deep breath, then finally let her thoughts out. ''Why are you here? What . . . what was your crime?''

Wriothesley's face fell. He sighed. ''If I tell you, will that . . . change anything?''

Truthfully, she wasn't sure. His answer scared her.

When he noticed her lack of responce, Wriothesley reached out, placing a comforting hand over hers. ''Y/n, I promise what I did, I did because I had to. And I promise that I would never, ever hurt you, alright?''

Y/n gulped and gave him a slow nod. She interlaced her fingers, not looking away from his eyes, waiting.

Wriothesley nodded. ''Okay. My crime . . . my crime is that I murdered my parents.''

Y/n didn't react. She tried not to visibly, at least. She wanted to ask him why, what had happened, but based on the look on his face, she thought he'd shared enough for the night. She didn't want to pressure him further. ''Thank you for telling me.''

''Yeah . . . no worries.''

Regardless of his promises, regardless of the comfort he'd brought her just moments before, Y/n felt uneasy when she laid back down on his chest. She was laying down with a murderer.

After she left that night, she couldn't bring herself to face Wriothesley. Of course she knew he'd been a criminal from the very beginning, they were in a prison, for Archon's sake, but she never would've thought someone like Wriothesley, someone that was so kind and gentle and nice to her, could ever take the life of another. She couldn't shake off the thought.

He was a murderer.

She'd expected some petty theft, maybe tax fraud or something. She felt shivers every time she thought about his crime and couldn't bring herself to face him. Every time she'd see him at the canteen she would ignore him, picking up her lunch and running back to her room.

A whole week had passed. She decided to take her mind off by going to the pankration rink, unaware that it was Wriothesley fighting that night. He'd won once again, but once he'd found her face in the crowd, he'd simply looked away and left, not even picking up his coupons.

She felt like shit. She'd promised him things wouldn't change, that she would accept anything, yet here she was now, avoiding him like the plague despite him being truthful with her.

Her father, the lazy person that he was, had decided one day that he couldn't be bothered to sort through some inmate files, sending Y/n to do it in his stead. She'd done it begrudgingly, doing as told. Her eyes were droopy until she reached a certain file, one with Wriothesley's name on it. Her eyes widened.

Should she read it? Was this invasion of privacy? But she had to. If she didn't find out why, what he meant when he'd said he'd done what he had to, she thought that she might never be able to approach Wriothesley again, despite the burn she felt in her heart every time she saw him alone to the side.

She opened the file, her eyes scanning the words. They widened, dropping the folder on the ground as she ran out.

She checked his room first, but he wasn't there. Not at the canteen, at his station or at the pankration rink. She finally made her way to the infirmary, where she found him with his arm bandaged as Sigewinne was telling him to be more careful.

Y/n breathed heavily as she realized her search had finally come to an end, catching the attention of Wriothesley and Sigewinne. Sigewinne looked between them before making her way out, once again leaving them alone.

Slowly walking down the stairs, Y/n couldn't bear to look at him, ashamed of what had happened. She pulled a chair to sit in front of him, looking down at his hand. ''What happened?''

''Sparring gone wrong.'' His voice was cold, but she couldn't blame him.

''I'm sorr━''

''You promised.''

''I know.''

Silence fell between them and, for the first time since they'd met, it felt uncomfortable. Y/n looked up, realizing Wriothesley had been looking her the whole time. She realized he wasn't going to say anything more. It was on her to fix things.

''I came across your file.'' Y/n admitted, her voice quiet. She'd never felt so small under Wriothesley's gaze, the one person who always made her feel like . . . well, a person. ''I'm so, so sorry for assuming the worst. I . . . understand why you did it. And I'm so, so proud of you for stepping up for your siblings.''

Wriothesley looked down then, his fingers picking on his bandages. ''You could've just asked me. I would've told you.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/n moved to sit next to him, taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. ''You're such a kind person, I just couldn't wrap my head around it. I'm sorry. It's no excuse, I know, but Wriothesley, you're the most important person in my life and I just━ I can't bear the thought of losing you, but if you want nothing to do with me after this stunt, I'd understand.''

Silence again. It was starting to get unnerving. Wriothesley didn't move either, so Y/n gave his hand another squeeze, still to no reaction.

It felt like an eternity when he finally squeezed back. ''I just think you're such an idiot if you think something so small could make me not want you anymore.'' Wriothesley finally looked at her, bringing his bandaged hand up to cup her face. ''Next time, just talk to me about it, yeah?''

Y/n felt relief wash over her shoulders. ''Yeah. Thank you, Wrio.''

At that moment, Y/n didn't know that in just a few years time Wriothesley would challenge her father for his title and would win, that his sentence would end he would be bestowed with his new title of Duke, that his sentence would be over and, despite his new responsibilities, he would keep his wordless promise he'd given her years ago and take her out to the world to see the green grass and rainbow roses and everything the world had to offer, if she so wished. That he would make her his wife and, despite the fact that she would still have ties to the fortress, she was finally going to be happy.

No, she didn't know all of that. At the moment, all she could think about was how warm Wriothesley's embrace was and how much her love for him seemed to grow with each day.

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