#the fact that they are likely at their most distant they have been or will EVER be during this time

[ncc-42069]

So when the first trailers for The Force Awakens started coming out, the fact that they were being so cagey with Kylo Ren's identity made me come up with a theory that I wished they'd gone for instead.

It was in the Emperor's throne room on the second Death star, when Luke looked down at Vader's severed cyborg arm, then down at his own black-clad prosthetic. His mind went back to the cave on Dagobah, realizing his greatest fear: following the same path as his father.

Another generation passes.

Luke Skywalker has vanished. In his absence, the sinister First Order has risen from the ashes of the Empire and is seemingly led by a mysterious, black clad warrior with a fiery red blade.

General Leia Organa is desperate to find her brother Luke and gain his help in restoring peace and justice to the galaxy.

Leia has sent her most daring pilot on a secret mission to Jakku, where an old ally has discovered a clue to Luke’s whereabouts….

Kylo Ren never removes his helmet. Ever But Han recognizes something about him. He tells Leia that he thinks he's seen a ghost. Leia says ghosts only appear after death. And she begins to say, "If you see my brother..." but can't finish the sentence. Yet Han seems to understand.

Han faces Kylo on the catwalk. Han Solo. I've been waiting for this day for a long time." Han replies, "Take off that mask. You don't need it."

"What do you think you'll see if I do?" Han doesn't answer the question, instead saying "I found my home again, after all these years. You can too."

"Luke Skywalker is dead. He was weak and foolish, like his father. So I destroyed him."

"That sounds familiar." Han draws his blaster, having lost not a single iota of his speed with age. It didn't matter. Ren held his hand up to absorb the blaster bolts, then pulled the blaster from Han's hand with a thought.

"Join me, Han. I won't ask a third time." Ren approached slowly.

"Over my dead body." Han quipped.

Ren drew right up to Han. "That's the general idea," as the lightsaber ignited in Han's chest.

And on that distant island, the final step on Rey's map, Kylo Ren is waiting for her. "It's taken you long enough to get here," he says, removing the helmet.

Intense blue eyes stare her down from underneath it. Luke Skywalker assessed his new apprentice.

"Now you begin your training/"

[starhvney]

Hey hey! May I ask for Garroth (Mys) post-S6, a coffee with cinnamon and cinnamon rolls ❤️! Thank you:].

𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: established relationship, hurt/comfort, snowy storm

𝐚/𝐧: "here it is!" i say, hands shaking as i hold out your now very much cold cinnamon roll with tears in my eyes.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“What are you thinking about?”

The subtle sound of snow pelting against the window and the fireplace crackling is the only thing that fills the silence between your question and his answer. Garroth bites the inside of his cheek before slowly shifting his head to look at you, smiling softly as he adjusts the blanket wrapped around you to cover your shoulders better. His fingers linger against your jaw before he pulls you into his embrace again, shaking his head dismissively.

“Nothing, just enjoying the moment,” he murmurs, the flickering flames reflecting against his distant eyes.

It was so rare for Garroth to have nothing to say, especially when you two were alone. More times than not, he’d be more than comfortable spilling every thought that passed through his brain whether it was something put together or the stupidest thing you’ve ever been subjected to hearing. Even if it made him look dumb, he relishes in your giggles, basking in the fact that he was blessed with the privilege of talking to you.

Lately, though, you’d noticed that on occasion his optimistic front would slip. His eyes would shift to something distant, glazing over as if tears were just on the precipice of spilling over the edge; like he could burst into tears if he focused too hard on whatever was clearly taking over his thoughts. And, like now, he’d fake that perfect smile of his, the tense set of his jaw far too brooding to convince you that he was being genuine.

You understand.

The loss that he, you, and everyone else experienced left a stinging pain—an indescribable wound in everyone’s mind and hearts that wouldn’t be healing over the same for the rest of your lives. You were all scarred from that damning island one way or another, and the lovely man next to you now was no exception. Not only did he have to watch in horror as his possessed body betrayed his protective nature, nearly killing the very people most precious to him, but he also had to undergo the painful biological change of becoming a werewolf. A process that should’ve killed him, that felt like it was killing him. He experienced physical and emotional torture, and for once, the outgoing and strong Ro’Meave was rendered at a loss for words.

You understand why he chooses not to speak. You’ve had your fair share of keeping the pain of it all to yourself. But you can’t stand letting him brew in whatever negativity that was clearly swirling around behind those pretty blue eyes. So this time, instead of cautiously avoiding breaking this rare moment of peace, you gently push just a little further.

“You know I know you better than to believe that, right?”

He winces at your callout, lips pressing together as he looks back to you.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I’m not- I’m not trying to lie to you-”

You very quickly shush him with a press of your index finger against his soft lips, shaking your head. “Having trouble putting it into words?”

He nods, tilting his head to lean into your hand. Without complaint you concede to his silent request, cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb under his eyes that seemed to melt as he beheld you. At the center of his deep blue was a splash of an almost yellow color radiating from the center, currently threatening to be swallowed by his widened pupils as he stares at you.

You thought the color was always befitting, representing him as a person. Like a sun in the center of the cold sky. A star in the center of the ocean. A fire in the middle of a winter storm… Something warm and inviting to cling to in the dark. It seems that your sun needed a little rekindling now, and you couldn’t be even slightly opposed to returning all of the support and love he’s poured onto you over the years.

“I just… don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t look like myself anymore. It’s hard to describe, and it almost makes me sound vain. I just-” He swallows, shaking his head. “I’m different now.”

You quietly sigh in return, pinching his cheek before leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes flutter shut and a bit of tension leaves his shoulders.

It was true. He had literally been changed genetically. His DNA had been torn apart and remodified into something he wasn’t used to. His build, which had already been impressively strong before, now was so broad and muscular he felt almost awkward in the things he did, like a bull knocking around in a china cabinet. His once lithe hands were thicker, and while they used to be strong they almost held too much power now. It was scary for him. To hold you, something so precious to him, with a nagging voice in the back of his head that told him he’d hurt you. He feared even the idea of it, and sometimes he’d even find himself paralyzed in horror when he squeezed you to him just a little too tight.

There was a constant scruff on his chin that he couldn’t seem to tame, and while it was amusing to see him frustratingly shave every few days while complaining how hard it was to keep up the boyish and clean shaven look he sported for so long, you also felt a sense of pity… watching his shoulders sag defeatedly and eyebrows furrow in frustration as he stared in the mirror, trying to recognize the man—no, the werewolf staring back at him.

“Yeah, things are a little different,” you admit, avoiding any sort of discredit to his raw feelings. “But you’re still you. You’re still my sweet and handsome Garroth that I’ve always known. These won’t change that.”

Your free hand reaches up to brush against one of his fluffy ears as you talk, earning a twitch of them against his messy blonde hair. He opens his misty eyes again, eyebrows pulled up into a pained furrow. He leans in for another kiss, departing only to nudge his nose against your cheek and settle against your neck, his meaty shoulders and back becoming the only thing in your sight besides the fireplace.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice a low and quiet tremble.

“And I love you.”

There’s nothing that either of you can do to reverse what’s happened to him. You know that. He knows that. But between the syllables of the three worded phrase was an indescribable thankfulness that you knew he meant to say—even if he couldn’t get it out in this moment. He’s grateful you’re still here, and that you undeniably would still be here as he adjusts to this new form. And you know he would and will do the same for you.

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @arienic @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz @vyladsgirl @allieyaaa

[houseofmarcella]

dear god Albus Potter do you utterly haunt my thoughts

Just… Albus in the cursed child, for as mixed as people seem to be on it… Albus as the certified middle child who doesn’t have the cloak, doesn’t have the map, who doesn’t even have a family name?

Can you imagine little Al (not yet Albus because that’s a name he truly goes by once he has Scorpius) tucking himself into the cracks of the door as he hears his parents talking, hears his dad say it would have been better to know they were having two boys so they could have just called him Sirius

Al, getting teased by his invisible brother, yet seeing so distinctly that his father chose James over him for their family legacy

Al, who grew up on the filtered advice of a distant, out of reach mentor who he could never live up to. Not like James with his fun, his humor, or Lily with her love and her girlhood.

(Albus, who will hear Cedric called the spare and understand far too well what it’s like to be of secondary importance)

Al, who out of all his siblings looks the most like his father, a reflection to every family friend of what harry went through and an eternal reminder to himself and the world that he will always be his father’s legacy (he will look in the mirror for most of his adult life and see his father before he sees himself)

Al, age 11, seeking comfort on the train platform as everything changes around him and getting another lecture about bravery that he doesn’t feel he has

Al becoming Albus on that train, when the boy who would become the most important person in his life actually asks him, asks him what he wants to be called

Albus, under the sorting hat, struggling but thinking about who he wants to be outside of his family’s legacy and getting put in Slytherin for it

Albus, who grew up on war stories and hogwarts hyjinks staying up half his first night because he’s afraid of his peers, but doesn’t want them to know that because he so desperately and conflictingly wants to both fit in and stand out

Albus, who is bad at flying, humiliating himself in front of his peers, because he isn’t harry but isn’t Quidditch player Ginny either… Albus, who all the adults see as Harry’s extension; Albus, who struggles with charms like Lily never will, who can barely make his matchstick silver under the blue eyed portrait in the room, who struggles to parse through the moving and unequal words of wizarding textbooks, who attracts bullies like flies and doesn’t yet have his mother’s hexes to fight back

Albus, struggling to write that first letter home, to tell his parents and little sister that he’s different from them; Albus who doesn’t even get to tell them because James tells them first

Albus, who doesn’t get a green scarf and hat until after the first snow, unable to parse if it’s the color, the fact that he’s the second born, or maybe just that it’s him that made it come later than James’ had

Albus, who goes back home for Christmas and faces his father’s disapproval for befriending a Malfoy, his father’s distrust and attempts to assure his morality for befriending someone harry assumes cruel and antagonistic

Albus, having to hold awkward conversation with Rose and Ron and Hermione, because neither of the kids want their parents to know they’re not talking (they find out eventually, and though they’re nice about it, Albus knows they’ll always put Rose’s feelings first)

Albus, who is suddenly assumed more malicious and problem causing than he ever was before, who suddenly is seen as a prime person to scot the blame off to when things go wrong

Albus, who gets chosen after his sister (“just like her mother!”) during the family quidditch match; who gets meaningful looks from his Uncle Percy; whose Christmas sweaters are no longer red but never green; who suddenly cant seem to talk to his uncle ron anymore, someone who used to understand what it was like to be James’ brother

Albus potter who stradles the line of too Potter for Slytherin and too Slytherin for his family.

Albus Potter, who’s ambition has been squashed out by bullies and disregard and distrust, struggling to find his identity in a house and world that is still in the midst of undoing decades as an indoctrination machine…

[zeroseuniverse]

Alien On This Earth

Word Count: 1.0K Summary: “You don’t have to figure everything out on your own,” you said softly. “You have me.” Pairing: Han X Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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Han Jisung had been on Earth for about three months now. His first few days had been confusing, to say the least. He had crash-landed in the middle of a field with no idea where he was or what had just happened. The sky above him had been full of stars, and as the ship crumpled and buckled around him, the noise of it all—frantic, sharp, and thunderous—had made his head spin.

But then, everything went quiet. Too quiet.

Jisung stood up, dusting himself off, and immediately started hearing the faintest hum under his feet, in the wind, inside his head. His head, which, let’s be honest, had been full of way too many thoughts, but none of them made sense. He could hear the chirp of a bird from miles away, and he could feel the vibration of distant cars, even the soft rustling of leaves in the trees… and it was like the whole world was speaking to him. He couldn’t help but wonder if everyone could hear it.

Spoiler: they couldn’t.

So, that was his first clue that things were going to be very different on Earth.

Jisung tried to blend in. He tried his best to mimic the way humans lived, talk like them, understand the world like they did. But what made it even more difficult was his abilities. He didn’t know where they came from, why he could control sound, or even why everything he touched sometimes vibrated or trembled. Whenever he accidentally made something crack, like a doorframe or a glass cup, he couldn’t understand why everyone else didn’t notice. It felt normal to him, but it was just too normal to the humans around him, and they thought he was just some weird, super-loud weirdo.

That was when he met you.

You had been shopping at the local convenience store, minding your own business, when you heard a strange, low hum. You glanced over and saw Jisung standing near the counter, his fingers twitching as if he were controlling something invisible in the air. He seemed lost, confused even, trying to calm himself as the air buzzed with an unnatural static.

And then, in the most unexpected move, he bumped into you.

“Oh, sorry,” Jisung said, blinking up at you with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to… um, crash into you.”

You looked at him for a second, still processing the fact that something had vibrated in the air. You smiled, because you were curious, and his awkwardness was endearing. “No worries,” you said, laughing. “It’s just that… you’re, um, kinda vibrating.”

He looked at you, eyes still wide, as if you had spoken in a completely different language. “I am?”

“Yup. A little bit. It’s cool, though,” you reassured him. “I mean, I can’t do it. That’d be weird, right?”

And just like that, your strange connection had been made.

From then on, you found yourself bumping into Jisung more and more—literally and figuratively. It was like he kept running into situations that were just a little too much for him to handle. You’d find him pacing nervously in the corner of a coffee shop, his hands jittering with the hum of sound he couldn’t control, and you’d go up and calmly ask, “Need some help?”

“Yeah… I think so?” Jisung would reply sheepishly, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “I swear I’m not trying to cause trouble. It’s just—this just happens sometimes.”

You smiled, holding out a hand. “Well, I think you’re safe here. I can’t hear what you’re hearing, but I think you’re pretty cool. So, take a breath, and just focus. You’re not alone in this.”

You always made him feel like it was okay. That he wasn’t an alien. That he wasn’t a freak. And maybe it helped that you had a way of seeing the world that others didn’t. After all, who else would hear Jisung’s sound hum like a beautiful melody, even if it did shake the windows a little too much?

One afternoon, while hanging out in the park, you found Jisung struggling again. The whole world felt like it was vibrating around him—louder and more intense than it had ever been before. It was like the noise of the world was pressing in on him, and the confusion was starting to show.

“Jisung,” you called out, grabbing his attention. “Stop for a sec. You’re going to make everything go haywire.”

“I can’t help it!” He groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Everything just feels so loud. Why can’t humans hear it like I do? I just want to talk to someone who gets it!”

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, you’re not alone. Not anymore. And if anyone can understand feeling everything all at once, it’s me. It’s okay. Just let me help.”

For a second, Jisung just stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Then, slowly, he exhaled, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Thanks… I guess I’m still figuring it out.”

“You don’t have to figure everything out on your own,” you said softly. “You have me.”

And somehow, hearing those words felt like the safest place Jisung had ever known.

As the weeks went by, you became his anchor, his sounding board, the one person who didn’t find his abilities strange, but fascinating. You were always there, offering encouragement and protection when the world around him started to close in. No one could understand why the world had started changing, why the oppressive tension had risen so suddenly, but with you by his side, Jisung felt like maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

One evening, as the sun set and painted the sky in soft shades of pink, you and Jisung sat side by side on the rooftop of his apartment. You were both silent for a while, taking in the view. The air felt peaceful, but there was still that strange hum under your feet—faint, but persistent.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jisung whispered, turning to look at you. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled at him, nudging him gently. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be here, Jisung. I’ll protect you. You’re not alone.”

And in that moment, the hum of the world faded just a little bit, and all that was left was the soft connection between you two—a bond that could never be broken, no matter how loud the world around you became.

[xylatox]

And I've made it to Amia's Valentine Fic!!!! It's of Taehyun (1 of my 2 biases) so I'm extra excited AND academic rivals so it's enemies to lovers, so excited. Also it's my first time reading a long fic from her too so I'm so excited!!!!

it wasn't just his irritatingly perfect smile, or his perfect grades, or his constant ability to somehow do everything just a little bit better than you, no. it was something more insidious—something about how effortlessly he seemed to exist in a world where everything was perfectly aligned in his favor. he was always better, always one step ahead. — I absolutely love how instantly we see that reader's irritation with Taehyun has a borderline of attraction to it, they do say hate and love are on 2 sides of the same coin.

I also love that they're president and vice president, it somehow makes the tension between them do much more appealing. It's even more hilarious when we're told that Taehyun is nice to us like😭😭 I love this dynamic instantly.

you hated how taehyun made you feel seen, how he seemed to know you better than anyone else, even though you barely let anyone in. he noticed the way you hesitated, the way your voice would shake when you pretended not to care. it was infuriating. you’d shove it all down, but he’d always come back for more, always patient, always gentle, like a relentless force pulling at the edges of your defenses.— god I love this, I love that the grumpy x sunshine trope is reader being the grumpy one omg, I'm living for this.

but he didn’t budge. instead, a small chuckle escaped him, low and unhurried, like he found your irritation amusing. he remained still, waiting, that same infuriatingly gentle smile tugging at his lips. – God he's so sweet but infuriating, intentional and calculated.

taehyun laughs, a quiet, breathy sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “you’re awfully cute when you’re smug.”—SCREAMING TAEHYUN IS SO CUTE :(((

Reader's response is so black cat coded (me), I absolutely love her so much. I love their banter after meeting with the principal, it's so natural and just the back and forth is absolutely amazing.

a beat of silence followed, filled only by the distant chatter of students lingering in the hallways and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. then, with a loud thud, beomgyu—who had been balancing his chair precariously on two legs—let it drop back down, the abrupt sound making jiwon, the treasurer, flinch. — I love beomgyu so much his personality is absolutely amazing.

taehyun, either genuinely oblivious or just expertly unfazed, regarded him with a blank expression, blinking once. “...that’s just a prom with plants.” — this is so hilarious to me because it's so Taehyun coded, it reminds me of the video where it's a qna and they ask them what they're most afraid of and Taehyun says death in the most deadpan way, yeah, this moment reminds me exactly of that LOL.

you tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to deliberate. “hmm. it does sound good, but i don’t know, gyu. the fact that it came from you makes me a little skeptical.” — this is what I was absolutely thinking LOL, like after Gyu's last ideas even I'm skeptical. I am loving the conversations so far, it makes me so happy.

“says the girl who still thinks vanilla ice cream is the superior flavor,” beomgyu shot back, eyes gleaming. — absolutely unrelated but i had to read this line twice because I genuinely thought it said villain icecream and I was so confused.

I love that after the idea is settled the banter seems to have mellowed out a tiny bit, it's so cute and the moment after like—taehyun blinked at you, his expression unreadable, caught between something unreadable and something almost… curious. then, his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk forming, though this one was softer—less teasing, more thoughtful.— god I love them.

it was small, delicate, impossibly soft-looking, its petals shimmering faintly with an ethereal glow. the light was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there, a quiet pulse of something that shouldn’t be real. your eyes widen, your chest tightening, the air around you suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy, as if the weight of the moment itself was pressing down on you, demanding to be acknowledged. there, resting in the curve of your palm, was a single blue hydrangea. your fingers twitched again, hesitant, unsure, before finally moving—just barely grazing the petals. they were cool beneath your fingertips, soft as silk, fragile in a way that made your stomach twist. and yet, the moment you made contact, a warmth surged through you—different from before, deeper, curling through your chest, spreading outward in gentle waves, like ripples disturbing still water. — and the fic title makes an appearance hehe, I love this so much!! I was so invested in them I forgot it was a soulmates au😭😭

there's a part of me that hopes that Taehyun somehow knows they're already soulmates, but I may be asking for too much😔😞 my heart breaks that reader's first instinct is to see if the bond can be broken somehow despite small signs of feelings for Taehyun being there.

"seriously, what’s up with you?" taehyun continued, voice quieter now, softer around the edges, but no less insistent. his eyes were sharp, searching, tracing over your profile like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he wasn’t meant to solve. "you’ve been acting weird since yesterday. not just weird—weird in a way that actually bothers me. and that’s saying something."— crying because Taehyun is so observant to realize how odd her behaviour is :((

he knew you wouldn’t like that. instead, taehyun simply sighed, a quiet, barely-there smile tugging at the corners of his lips. shaking his head to himself, he leaned back in his chair, voice a hushed murmur as he muttered, "maybe another time." — god this is so sweet, I genuinely love them so much, again the way you do conversations brings so much joy to me.

I love that her walls were down for a moment and touched Tae while he was asleep and was so in denial after, reader is adorable

but instead of prying, which was something he would normally do just to get a rise out of you, taehyun simply smiled. not the usual smirk, not the playful glint of mischief, but something softer, something almost… fond. — Tae either knows theyre soulmates, likes her or both, and I vote both.

but as you stood there, watching his figure disappear into the station, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. that, for the first time, you weren’t entirely relieved to see him go. — and the walls have crumbled more, I love the progression thus far.

The moment with them on the bike is so cute, their banter is my absolute favorite thing. God, taehyun adding Blue Hydrangeas into the mix, now he's just being a tease honestly either knowinglyor unknowingly. This entire moment where they're in the venue is so cute, from the conversation, to him asking her to the winter ball, oh my god, I'm holding my heart.

HE DIDNT KNOWWW😭😭😭😭😭😭 OH MY GOD IM SOBBING IM GOINGNDNSJ?????? He just really liked her all along omg this is amazing.

But his reaction is adorable like —"i knew it,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, as if the words had been lingering in the back of his mind all this time, just waiting to be spoken. “so this was why… why i’ve always felt this… pull towards you… no matter how much you tried to push me away.” —god this is so sweet

NOT READER RUNNING AWAY NOOO😭😭 and we see how it affected Tae no :(((( The moment on the day of the ball breaks my heart too no :(((

"i never should've left that night," you choked out, shaking your head, tears clinging to your lashes. "i should’ve turned back, should’ve looked at you, should’ve realized what was right in front of me." a single tear slipped down your cheek, warm against your skin, but you didn’t wipe it away. "i should’ve told you then," you hesitated, voice cracking, "i should’ve told you that it was always you." — oh my goodness :((( the kiss awwwww my heart is so full, I love that he still has the audacity to tease her after that like ugh

I loved this soso much Amia, it was so amazing, I will say it again, your way to carry the conversations while showing the dynamics between characters is amazing as it also shows the progression. This really was an amazing piece and I'm so glad I finally read it.

⸝⸝ blue hydrangeas ┈ kth.

⸝⸝ IN a world where soulmates are tied by "soulblooms," flowers that manifest on the hand when touched by fate’s match, you have spent your life with an empty wrist and a guarded heart. but when a fleeting touch with taehyun—a boy you find insufferably perfect—awakens a blue hydrangea on your grasp, everything you thought you knew about fate, connection, and him, turned on its head.

pairings and tags. academicrival!taehyun x fem!reader . soulmate au. enemies to lovers . slowburn . grumpy x sunshine . forced proximity . slowburn . taehyun is a huge tease . tension !!!! not actually unrequited love? angst

word count. 29.7k

short note! it's finally here!!!! it was such an honor to work alongside such talented moas! i am beyond grateful to be part of something this special >< every moment spent working on this was filled with so much love and excitement, and i hope you all enjoy it as much as we did creating it!! <3

you hated kang taehyun with every fiber of your being.

there was something about him that irked you to your very core, something that made your teeth grit and your stomach twist every time you were forced to be near him.

it wasn't just his irritatingly perfect smile, or his perfect grades, or his constant ability to somehow do everything just a little bit better than you, no. it was something more insidious—something about how effortlessly he seemed to exist in a world where everything was perfectly aligned in his favor. he was always better, always one step ahead.

and it wasn’t just in the classroom either. taehyun's reach extended far beyond that, into places where you thought you had some semblance of control. in the student council, for example, where you held the position of vice president—a role you worked your ass off to attain—taehyun somehow made being the president look like a walk in the park.

with his easy charm and flawless leadership, he outshone you at every turn. it wasn’t that you didn’t have the capacity for leadership, you knew you were just as capable. more capable. but taehyun? he was like a magnet, drawing the attention of everyone in the room with a simple flash of his smile, a soft laugh that echoed off the walls of the council room.

you hated how easy he made it look.

every time you thought you had finally gained some ground, taehyun would be there. standing just a little bit taller, a little bit more poised—effortlessly securing the praise, the respect, the adoration. it was maddening.

you hated him.

and yet, it wasn’t just the ways he made you feel small, it was how he never let you hide it. how, no matter how obviously you displayed your contempt for him, he remained annoyingly unfazed, like he could see right through the walls you tried to build. he never flinched, never reacted in the way you expected. he’d simply laugh, his voice low and warm, as though everything you did to push him away was just a minor inconvenience.

the worst part? taehyun was nice to you. you could never understand it.

it was almost like he reveled in it—like he enjoyed seeing you fume in frustration. he would do things like open doors for you, something so simple and innocent, yet it felt like a taunt. he’d hold the door wide, with that stupid, gentle smile of his. he would always ask how you were, even though it felt like a question that was both too casual and too personal, as if he could sense the tension in your voice, the subtle crack in your facade whenever you answered him.

you hated how taehyun made you feel seen, how he seemed to know you better than anyone else, even though you barely let anyone in. he noticed the way you hesitated, the way your voice would shake when you pretended not to care. it was infuriating. you’d shove it all down, but he’d always come back for more, always patient, always gentle, like a relentless force pulling at the edges of your defenses.

you hated that no matter how many times you tried to push him away, he would be right back the next day, like nothing ever happened. you’d look away, stubborn and angry, trying to ignore the faint flutter in your chest when he smiled at you. his smile—always so warm, so effortless—made everything worse. because deep down, you knew you hated it... but you couldn’t look away.

before you could shove the thought away, before you could shake off the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the static hum of the intercom crackled through the classroom, making you flinch.

“president and vice president of the student council, please report to the principal’s office.”

the words rang in your ears, a sudden disruption to the taut thread of your thoughts. you let out a slow breath, forcing your shoulders to relax, pushing down whatever unwanted feeling had started to creep in.

you turned on your heel without another glance in his direction, your steps measured and purposeful as you headed towardss the door. the room buzzed faintly behind you, students murmuring about why the two of you were being called this time. probably another event to oversee, another responsibility stacked onto the ever-growing pile. 

but just as you reached the door, he moved ahead of you, stopping right at the threshold. his hand rested lightly against the frame as he turned back, expression as unreadable as ever—soft yet calculated, warm yet knowing.

“after you,” taehyun says smoothly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

your eyes flickered to him, lingering for only a second before you scoffed. of course. always so proper, so polite. always so perfectly composed.

“just go, kang.” your voice was clipped, your patience thinning at the edges.

but he didn’t budge. instead, a small chuckle escaped him, low and unhurried, like he found your irritation amusing. he remained still, waiting, that same infuriatingly gentle smile tugging at his lips.

for a moment, you considered pushing past him, ignoring his presence entirely. but something about the way he stood there—calm, unshaken, as if he had all the time in the world—made your skin prickle. unwilling to prolong the moment, you rolled your eyes and stepped through first, feeling the weight of taehyun’s gaze trailing behind you as he finally followed.

the hallway was quieter than usual, the usual rush of students dwindling between periods. your footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors, the rhythmic tap of your shoes the only sound filling the space between you. for once, you wished it would stay that way.

but taehyun was never one to let silence settle for too long.

“you did well on the last presentation,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet with an ease that made your fingers twitch.

you kept your gaze ahead, eyes fixed on the stretch of hallway before you. “so?”

taehyun hummed, slow and thoughtful. “the teachers were impressed. even the principal didn’t have anything to correct, which is rare.”

there was something in his tone—something easy yet deliberate. you weren’t sure if he was just making conversation or if he was testing you, seeing how long it would take before you snapped at him.

your fingers curled at your sides. “is that supposed to mean something?”

taehyun let out a soft chuckle, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “it means you’re good at what you do.”

you stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye, but his expression remained neutral, unreadable. there was no teasing lilt to his voice, no smugness in his words. just a simple statement, spoken like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you looked away, exhaling through your nose. “obviously.”

taehyun laughs, a quiet, breathy sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “you’re awfully cute when you’re smug.”

your steps faltered—just barely, just for a second—before you snapped your head towardss him with a sharp glare. “don’t say weird things.”

but he only smiled, eyes twinkling with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

“it’s not weird if it’s true.”

your fingers twitched at your sides, a heat creeping up the back of your neck. you hated this. hated how easily he got under your skin, how effortlessly he chipped away at your walls like it was second nature to him. like he wasn’t even trying.

but more than anything, you hated that, despite everything, you never had it in you to stop him.

before you knew it, the office door was already looming ahead, its dark wooden surface polished to a near mirror-like shine, reflecting the dim glow of the hallway’s overhead lights. despite the countless times you had stood before it, waiting to be summoned inside for meetings, discussions, and the occasional reprimand over minor council disputes, it never failed to fill you with a familiar sense of dread. not because you feared the principal—he was reasonable enough—but because you knew that whatever awaited you beyond that door would inevitably mean more work, more responsibilities, and more time spent in taehyun’s infuriating presence.

your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to get this over with. but before you could reach for the handle, taehyun was already moving, stepping forward with that effortless confidence that made your teeth grind.

his knuckles met the wood in three firm, evenly spaced knocks—never too loud, never too soft. just right. of course.

then, without hesitation, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, but instead of stepping through, he turned to you, that familiar, insufferably polite smile curving his lips.

“after you,” he says once again, his voice smooth, as if this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d done this.

your lips pressed into a thin, irritated line, and you felt the immediate, burning need to roll your eyes. instead, you inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to push past him just to spite him.

“stop doing that,” you muttered, stepping into the office without sparing him a glance.

behind you, taehyun let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm, like he had been expecting your reaction all along. you could practically feel the amusement radiating off him as he followed you inside at an easy, unhurried pace, as if this was all some game to him.

the office was warm, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faintest traces of old paper and polished wood. the large mahogany desk stood at the center, stacked neatly with files, reports, and what you assumed were upcoming event proposals.

behind the desk sat the principal, an older man with sharp, perceptive eyes that held a kindness just beneath their surface. his neatly pressed suit was accompanied by a tie that looked slightly askew, as if he had been rushing between meetings all morning. at the sight of you both, he offered a welcoming nod, his hands clasping together in front of him.

“ah, president, vice president,” he greeted, his voice carrying that authoritative weight you had grown used to. “thank you for coming on such short notice.”

you returned the gesture with a curt nod, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to brace yourself for whatever was about to be dropped onto your already full plate. beside you, taehyun dipped his head in acknowledgment, his posture effortlessly composed.

the principal didn’t waste time, leaning forward slightly as he rested his forearms on the desk. his sharp gaze flickered between the two of you, a knowing glint settling in his eyes.

“i’m sure you both know what time of year it is,” he began, his tone measured, expectant.

your brows furrowed slightly, the question lingering in the air for only a second before taehyun, ever the perfect student, filled the silence.

“the winter ball,” he supplied smoothly, the answer rolling off his tongue like second nature.

the principal’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “precisely. it’s one of our school’s most anticipated events, and this year, we want it to be even more memorable than the last.” he gestured towardss the neatly stacked files on his desk, his fingers tapping lightly against the topmost folder. “as always, we’re prepared to provide you with all the budget you need to bring it to life. however, the student council will be in charge of every aspect of the planning.”

your stomach twisted.

of course it was. as if the student council didn’t already have enough responsibilities—event coordination, student affairs, disciplinary oversight—now you had to organize the biggest event of the year on top of everything else.

your fingers curled slightly at your sides, a quiet sigh threatening to escape before you swallowed it back.

“understood,” taehyun said without missing a beat, his tone carrying that same unwavering confidence he always spoke with. “we’ll handle everything.”

your eyes snapped to him, barely concealing your incredulity. we? we weren’t the ones who would end up buried in logistical nightmares and last-minute disasters. you were. while taehyun would breeze through meetings with his stupid, easy charm, you’d be the one pulling late nights, making sure every detail was perfect.

but of course, he looked completely at ease, his expression betraying none of the stress you already felt settling onto your shoulders.

the principal nodded in approval, leaning back in his chair. “good. i expected nothing less.” he glanced between the two of you once more before offering a small, knowing smile. “i trust that the two of you, along with the rest of the council, will make this year’s ball unforgettable.”

as the meeting wrapped up, you and taehyun dipped into a synchronized bow, offering the principal a respectful farewell before turning towardss the door. you moved first, your steps quick and purposeful, eager to escape the weight of expectations that had just been placed on your shoulders.

the moment you stepped out into the hallway and the door clicked shut behind you, the sigh you had been holding back finally slipped past your lips. it was long and heavy, filled with every ounce of exasperation you had swallowed down in that office.

taehyun must have noticed, because just as you were trying to compose yourself, you caught the slightest movement from the corner of your eye—his hand, lifting ever so slightly, as if to place a reassuring touch on your shoulder.

you moved away before he could.

your sharp glare met his gaze, and for a second, the air between you crackled with tension. his hand dropped back to his side, but the teasing curve of his lips remained.

“don’t,” you warned, voice flat.

taehyun let out a soft chuckle, utterly unbothered. “what? i was just going to tell you that you’re gonna do great.”

“oh, shut up,” you muttered, rubbing your temple as if that would somehow ease the headache forming at the thought of the endless planning ahead. “this is a lot of work. again. do they not realize how much we already do?”

taehyun hummed in thought, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blazer. “well, to be fair, the winter ball is a big deal. people look forward to it all year. it makes sense they want to go all out.”

“great. good for them,” you deadpanned. “meanwhile, i’ll be drowning in event proposals, budgeting spreadsheets, and people asking if we can add a ‘winter wonderland’ theme for the fourth time.”

taehyun chuckled, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at you. “you’re being dramatic.”

you shot him an exasperated look, one that should’ve been enough to burn through his unshakable confidence. should’ve been, but of course, this was kang taehyun you were dealing with—unfazed, infuriating, and always ready with some smooth remark that made your blood boil.

“oh, am i? am i really, kang?” you seethed, voice laced with frustration. “because guess who’s going to be stuck micromanaging everything while everyone else just throws out random ideas and disappears?”

taehyun blinked at you, the picture of innocence. “us?”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you leveled him with a sharp glare. “me,” you corrected, jabbing a finger against your chest. “because you’ll probably just sit there smiling and nodding while i suffer.”

his laughter came easily, light and unhurried, like the idea of your impending misery was genuinely amusing to him. the corners of his eyes crinkled in that stupidly endearing way, and for a moment, you forgot what you were mad about.

“come on, give me some credit,” taehyun replies, and before you could take a step back, he nudged your arm playfully—so effortless, so natural, like touching you was just second nature to him. you recoiled instantly, pulling away before the warmth of his skin could linger against your jacket. “i help out a lot too. i mean, i am the president.”

“oh, please,” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest like a barrier, like it would somehow protect you from his relentless confidence. “you showing up to meetings with an iced americano and nodding along to whatever’s being said is not helping.” taehyun’s grin widened, all sharp amusement, like he was enjoying this far more than he should. “hey, that’s unfair. sometimes i write stuff down.”

“you doodle.”

“art is important for brainstorming.”

you shot him a deadpan look. “so is actual brainstorming.”

but taehyun didn’t waver. his smile softened just a fraction, the teasing edge in his tone giving way to something quieter, something dangerously close to sincerity.

“i do mean it,” taehyun said, and this time, he didn’t laugh. didn’t flash that insufferable, knowing smirk. didn’t lace his words with teasing or smug amusement. instead, his voice came quieter, steadier—like an oath meant to be kept. “i’m not just going to let you do all the work. i’ll help, i promise.”

his words should have rolled right off you, should have been easy to dismiss like every other time he made empty assurances with that effortless confidence of his. but something about the way he said it—the way he looked at you—made you pause for just a fraction of a second too long.

you scoffed again, but the usual sharpness in your voice was missing, dulled by the unexpected sincerity lingering between you. “i know you,” you muttered, grasping for the familiar rhythm of irritation that kept you balanced around him. “you’ll just charm everyone into doing things for you while i handle the logistics.”

taehyun’s grin stretched wider, his eyes glinting with something dangerously playful—like you had just unknowingly handed him the perfect setup for a joke. “well, yeah,” he admitted with a casual shrug, the corners of his lips twitching. “that’s called teamwork.”

you groaned dramatically, tilting your head back, pressing your fingers against the bridge of your nose as if you could physically push away the headache he was undoubtedly going to give you. “you are so—”

“but,” he cut in smoothly, and there was something in his tone that made you drop your hand and actually look at him. he wasn’t done. “since you’re so convinced i’m just going to sit back and make you do everything, let me put it on record—i’ll be in charge of buying the decorations. i’ll help with booking the venue, the catering, and dealing with the faculty.”

your arms, which had been folded tightly against your chest, slackened just slightly.

“i’ll help set up, too,” taehyun continued easily, ticking things off on his fingers like he was reading off a checklist. “and—” he shot you a knowing glance, “—i’ll make sure no one dumps last-minute work on you like they always do.”

your mouth opened—whether to argue or to question him, you weren’t even sure—but nothing came out.

taehyun noticed. he always did.

“what?” he teased, leaning in slightly like he was studying your reaction up close. “shocked into silence? i should say sincere things more often.”

you snapped out of it, glaring as you stepped back. “i just didn’t expect you to actually think about any of this.”

“what, you think i don’t pay attention?” taehyun hummed, tilting his head. “i know you do all the heavy lifting every year. i know you always end up picking up the slack when people flake. and i know you’d rather pretend you don’t care than let anyone see you stressed about it.”

taehyun smiled, but it wasn’t smug this time. it was softer. easier. genuine.“so, yeah,” he said, as if his words hadn’t just shaken something loose inside you. “i’ll help. properly.”

you swallowed, forcing yourself to scoff, to keep your defenses up. “yeah, well,” you muttered, looking away. “you better.”

he chuckled, unfazed as always. “see? we’re making progress already.”

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” he said, and the worst part was that he sounded like he knew it. ꒰💐꒱ the student council room buzzed with the quiet shuffle of papers and the faint hum of conversation as the members gathered around the long wooden table, settling into their seats. the late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting elongated shadows across the polished surface.

you sat near the head of the table, arms crossed, posture composed, but your patience already thinning before the meeting had even begun. beside you, taehyun leaned forward slightly, his usual composed expression unreadable as he flipped through a neatly organized binder—probably filled with notes and plans that he had somehow managed to put together in the few hours since you both left the principal’s office.

the moment the last person took their seat, you cleared your throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “alright, let’s get this over with,” you said, ignoring the amused glance taehyun shot your way. “as you all know, the winter ball is coming up, and since the school is giving us the budget we need, it’s up to us to handle all the planning.”

taehyun, ever the composed leader, leaned forward with his arms resting against the table, scanning the three of you with his usual unreadable expression. “which means first things first,” he says, “we need a theme.”

a beat of silence followed, filled only by the distant chatter of students lingering in the hallways and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. then, with a loud thud, beomgyu—who had been balancing his chair precariously on two legs—let it drop back down, the abrupt sound making jiwon, the treasurer, flinch. he leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm, his eyes glinting with easy confidence. "what about… a black-and-white party?"

you blinked, eyebrows furrowing. “you mean… just two colors?”

"yeah," beomgyu confirmed, nonchalant. "like, everyone wears black or white. sleek. simple. no weird decorations." he shrugged as if he had just solved an age-old dilemma, clearly satisfied with himself. "it’ll be easy."

taehyun hummed, tapping the end of his pen against his notebook in thought. "it’s not bad, but it might be too minimal. people like having something to work with beyond just a color palette."

you nodded, already envisioning how utterly lifeless it would be. "and it could get boring fast. we need something with more… i don’t know. atmosphere."

before beomgyu could defend his idea, jiwon suddenly straightened in his seat, his perfectly styled hair falling slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head in what you knew was supposed to be a calculated display of charm. “hmm,” he mused, twirling his pen between his fingers. “what about an enchanted garden theme? twinkling fairy lights, roses everywhere, maybe even a little love-seat corner for couples…” his eyes flickered towardss taehyun, the end of his sentence laced with a easy lilt. “it’d be so cool, don’t you think, taehyun?”

taehyun, either genuinely oblivious or just expertly unfazed, regarded him with a blank expression, blinking once. “...that’s just a prom with plants.” jiwon’s smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, running a hand through his neatly styled hair. “well, not just a prom! we could—”

“it’s a winter formal,” taehyun cut in smoothly, his tone polite but unwavering. “not a midsummer night’s dream.” jiwon huffed, his expression tightening for a split second before he forced another airy laugh, though the slight flicker of irritation in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you. “fine. whatever,”

taehyun paid him no mind, glancing at the rest of you. "anyone else?"

beomgyu, who was still highly entertained by the exchange, perked up once more, his lips stretching into a grin. "okay, okay," he sighed, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "what if we do… a retro neon theme?"

you, taehyun, and jiwon turned to look at him at the exact same time, identical expressions of sheer disbelief written across your faces.

“…beomgyu,” you deadpanned, eyeing him as if he had just suggested you all hold the event in a convenience store parking lot. “this is a winter formal.”

beomgyu blinked innocently. “yeah, and?”

taehyun tilted his head slightly, looking at him as if he were trying to decipher an alien language. “so, you want people to slow dance under fluorescent pink lights?”

beomgyu crossed his arms, clearly standing by his idea. “who said anything about slow dancing? picture this—electric blues, neon signs, a dance floor that actually lights up. vintage, but modern.”

you stared at him. “that literally makes no sense.”

beomgyu groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "you guys are impossible.”

before another argument could erupt, jiwon clapped his hands together, his eyes brightening with excitement. "ooh! what about a winter wonderland?"

you physically felt your soul leave your body. slowly, deliberately, you turned to face him, fingers tightening around your pen. "jiwon," you said, voice calm yet edged with thinly veiled exasperation, "it is already winter. people are literally living in a winter wonderland right now."

he pouted slightly, tilting his head as if that would somehow make his idea sound more appealing. "but we could make it cute! like, snowflakes everywhere, and maybe a big fake ice castle—"

“so… the exact same theme the school has used like four times before?” beomgyu interjected, raising an eyebrow.

jiwon frowned, tapping his pen against the table in thought. “well, i mean… yeah, but it’s classic.”

you exhaled through your nose, pressing your fingers against your temple. classic or not, it was painfully predictable, and if you had to sit through another event drowning in fake icicles and blue-tinted lights as if you were in the antartica, you were going to lose your mind.

“we need something fresh,” you muttered. “something that actually makes people excited to go.”

taehyun glanced at you, a knowing glint in his eyes. "so, you want something that stands out?"

you turned to him, narrowing your eyes. "obviously." beomgyu, who had been silent for a beat too long, suddenly leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. “alright, then.” he let his arms drop back down, his gaze flickering between the three of you before a slow grin curved on his lips. “what about a masquerade ball?”

the room went quiet.

taehyun’s pen stilled between his fingers. you turned your head just in time to catch the way his gaze flickered to yours, brows raising slightly in silent acknowledgment. huh.

you narrowed your eyes, already seeing the gears turning in his head.

he knew.

you knew.

and beomgyu, perceptive as ever, caught onto the silent exchange in an instant. his grin widened, mischief flickering behind his eyes as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the table. “what’s with the looks? did i just blow your tiny little minds?”

you scoffed, but the corners of your lips twitched, betraying your amusement. “please. let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

taehyun hummed, drumming his fingers against his notebook, the sound a steady, thoughtful rhythm. “she’s right. however, it’s actually a solid concept.”

beomgyu clutched his chest dramatically, leaning back in his chair like he had just been struck by an arrow. “oh my god. did the two scariest people in student council just agree with me?”

jiwon, who had been slouching in his seat ever since his winter wonderland idea got shot down, straightened up slightly, interest piqued. “so… like those fancy, mysterious balls in movies?”

“exactly,” beomgyu confirmed, voice brimming with satisfaction. “dim lighting, chandeliers, intricate masks—people get to dress up and pretend to be someone else for a night.” he wagged his brows. “cool, isn’t it?”

taehyun ignored his theatrics, already scribbling down notes. “formal but not boring. atmospheric without being overly complicated. it works.”

you tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to deliberate. “hmm. it does sound good, but i don’t know, gyu. the fact that it came from you makes me a little skeptical.”

beomgyu gasped, feigning betrayal as he placed a hand over his heart. “come on, don’t you have faith in me?.”

you smirked, tilting your head. “oh, i have faith in you. just not in your taste.” “says the girl who still thinks vanilla ice cream is the superior flavor,” beomgyu shot back, eyes gleaming.

your jaw dropped. “what does that have to do with anything?”

taehyun, barely glancing up from his notes, murmured, “she’s right, though. it’s a classic.”

beomgyu let out an exasperated groan, throwing his hands up. “oh, so she gets a pass for being boring, but i make one suggestion and suddenly—”

“masquerade it is,” taehyun interrupted smoothly, tapping his pen against the page for emphasis. “it’s decided.”

beomgyu sat up a little straighter, his usual playful arrogance giving way to something softer—something closer to pride. he actually contributed something worthwhile, and he knew it.

you glanced around the table, noting the shift in energy. what started as a frustrating mess of half-baked ideas had finally settled into something concrete. something promising.

as the meeting neared its end, the room gradually emptied, leaving behind the quiet remnants of rustling papers and the faint echo of footsteps against the tiled floor. beomgyu was the first to sling his bag over his shoulder, stretching his arms high above his head with a satisfied groan. he looked far too pleased with himself, as if he had just single-handedly saved the winter formal instead of throwing out the most ridiculous suggestions until he accidentally landed on the perfect one.

“alright, my job here is done,” he announced, adjusting his strap before flashing a lopsided grin at you and taehyun. “don’t stay too late, lovebirds.”

“we are not—” you started, only for beomgyu to duck out the door before you could finish.

you let out a frustrated huff, but before you could dwell on it, jiwon stepped forward, his movements unhurried as he gathered his things. he lingered near taehyun’s side, adjusting the strap of his bag with an easygoing air, as if trying to find the right words.

“hey,” he started, offering a small, casual smile, “if you ever need help with anything, you can call me. you know, student council teamwork and all.”

taehyun, ever the picture of polite indifference, barely spared him a glance. “sure, noted.”

jiwon hesitated, clearly expecting something more—maybe a nod of acknowledgment, maybe even a small thanks—but when taehyun remained as detached as ever, he let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if to brush it off. “right. see you guys later, then. goodluck!”

and then, it was just you and taehyun.

the door clicked shut behind him, sealing your fate.

you exhaled, resting your elbows against the table before letting your forehead drop against the cool surface. “this is cruel and unusual punishment.”

taehyun barely looked up from his notes. “it’s called responsibility.”

you groaned. “i have plenty of responsibilities, thank you very much. this just happens to be the one i want to run from the most.”

“too bad.”

taehyun’s tone was frustratingly even, the very definition of someone who had already accepted his fate. you peeked up at him through your arms, watching as he methodically sorted through the remaining paperwork, his expression unreadable. it was strange. you were used to him being sharp, snarky, always finding ways to make your life harder rather than easier. but right now?

right now, he was just… doing the work. without complaint. without prodding.

you slowly sat up, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“okay, what’s your deal?”

taehyun finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “what?”

“you.” you gestured vaguely at him, then at the neatly arranged papers in front of him. “you’re being helpful. like, actually helpful. it’s weird.”

his lips curled slightly, though the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i told you i’d help, didn’t i?”

“yeah, but not like.. this..” 

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head before flipping through one of the documents. “you seriously underestimate me.”

“i seriously don’t.” you crossed your arms. “which is why i’m suspicious.”

taehyun sighed, tapping his pen against the table. “if it makes you feel better, i’ll handle the layout and catering logistics. you can start drafting the seating arrangements.”

you stared at him.

he stares back.

“…you already planned half of this, didn’t you?”

his silence was answer enough.

you blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sheer efficiency of it all. then, something flickered in his expression—something almost unreadable, something sincere—and suddenly, you didn’t know where to look.

“i told you,” taehyun murmured, his voice quieter now, as if he didn’t want to break whatever fragile moment had settled between you, “i’ll help.” you huffed out a breath, pushing aside the odd weight pressing at the edges of your mind, and refocused on the papers spread before you. whatever strange moment had just passed between you and taehyun—whatever flicker of something that had settled in the quiet between you—it didn’t matter. you had work to do.

the room sank into a silence that, against all odds, felt… natural. not suffocating, not strained, not heavy with the usual tension that came with being near taehyun for too long. it was a stark contrast to the earlier chaos of the meeting, the air now humming with something softer—less sharp edges, less sharp words.

it was almost unsettling how easily you both worked like this.

every now and then, one of you would break the silence.

“do we need to confirm the dj by the end of the week?”

“yeah, and the photographer too.”

or—

“should we let people vote for their own ball court, or do you think it’ll just turn into a popularity contest?”

“kang, every ball court is a popularity contest.”

for once, there were no playful jabs, no attempts to rile each other up—just efficiency. a rare, mutual understanding.

and yet, the hours dragged.

outside, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting the room in streaks of orange and pink, elongating shadows across the table. the once-bright fluorescent lights above now felt too harsh, highlighting the exhaustion that had begun creeping into your bones. the weight of the day settled over you in increments—shoulders aching, head growing heavier, eyelids drooping ever so slightly.

then, as you were scanning through a list of venue restrictions, a yawn tore its way out of you before you could stop it.

taehyun’s head lifted at once. “tired?”

you blinked at him, rubbing your eyes as inconspicuously as possible. “no.”

his gaze flickered towardss you, sharp yet unreadable. “you should just go home. i can finish the rest.”

you scoffed, dropping your hand from your face. “what, and let you mess everything up? not on my watch.”

his brows raised slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “mess everything up? bold words, considering i’ve been handling student council work longer than you have.”

“exactly,” you countered, deadpan. “which means i know what you’re capable of, and frankly, it’s concerning.”

taehyun exhaled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “you really don’t trust me with this, huh?”

“would you trust you?”

his lips curled, eyes glinting with amusement. “i trust myself way more than i trust you.”

you let out an exaggerated gasp. “excuse me?”

“you heard me.”

“taehyun, i carry the weight of this council on my back, and you know it.”

he let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “right, because your world would fall apart if you admitted i actually help out around here.”

you narrowed your eyes, pointing a pen at him. “if you actually helped, i wouldn’t be here right now.”

“or maybe,” he mused, tilting his head, “you just like spending time with me.”

you nearly choked.

“as if,” you spluttered, eyes widening.

taehyun smirked, seemingly satisfied with your reaction. “so dramatic.”

you let out an exasperated groan, dragging a hand down your face. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, you’re still here.”

“because i have to be,” you shot back.

he hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “alright, then. let me—”

without thinking, your hand shot out, curling firmly around his wrist.

your breath caught in your throat, the moment stretching impossibly thin, charged with something you couldn’t name. your fingers were wrapped around the bare skin of taehyun’s wrist, his pulse thrumming steadily beneath your touch—warm, solid, real.

taehyun stilled.

for once, he looked just as caught off guard as you felt, his gaze flickering downward, lips parting slightly. you could see the exact moment realization dawned on him, something shifting in his expression, his breath coming just a fraction sharper.

but neither of you moved.

the air between you thickened, something unspoken curling into the space left behind by your bickering. your heart pounded against your ribs, so loud, you were convinced he could hear it. your palm burned against his skin, a sensation you weren’t sure was entirely physical.

you ripped your hand away, as if you had been scorched.

taehyun blinked at you, his expression unreadable, caught between something unreadable and something almost… curious. then, his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk forming, though this one was softer—less teasing, more thoughtful.

“okay, okay,” he said, voice quieter now, almost teasing but not quite. “i’ll let you finish your own work.” you barely heard taehyun’s voice. barely registered the joyful lilt of his words or the soft chuckle that followed.

because something felt wrong.

not wrong in the way that set off alarms in your head—not danger, not fear—but something different. something foreign pressing against the edges of your awareness, unfamiliar yet impossibly warm. your wrist tingled, the sensation starting as a faint whisper beneath your skin before deepening into something more insistent, something that crawled up your arm like a quiet, lingering heat. it wasn’t painful, but it burned in a way that made your breath catch, a way that made your fingers curl against the table as if grounding yourself would somehow steady the sudden unease settling in your chest. your brows furrowed as the warmth pulsed again, slow and steady, like a heartbeat against your palm. for a second, you tried to ignore it, forcing your focus back onto the scattered documents before you. but the feeling refused to fade, refused to be dismissed as something inconsequential. it lingered, curling beneath your skin, insistent, waiting. a strange, quiet whisper of a sensation that made something stir uneasily in your chest.

your fingers twitched.

the urge to check clawed at you.

hesitantly, almost cautiously, you turned your palm over. your breath felt uneven, the steady rhythm of your chest rising and falling suddenly harder to control. your fingers flexed once, twice, before finally, with a sharp inhale, you reached for the sleeve of your jacket.

you hesitated.

just for a second.

then, slowly, you peeled the fabric back—

and you felt your breath hitch.

there, resting in the curve of your palm, was a single blue hydrangea.

it was small, delicate, impossibly soft-looking, its petals shimmering faintly with an ethereal glow. the light was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there, a quiet pulse of something that shouldn’t be real. your eyes widen, your chest tightening, the air around you suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy, as if the weight of the moment itself was pressing down on you, demanding to be acknowledged. your fingers twitched again, hesitant, unsure, before finally moving—just barely grazing the petals. they were cool beneath your fingertips, soft as silk, fragile in a way that made your stomach twist. and yet, the moment you made contact, a warmth surged through you—different from before, deeper, curling through your chest, spreading outward in gentle waves, like ripples disturbing still water.

panic clawed at your ribs.

this wasn’t real.

it couldn’t be real.

cautiously, carefully, you lifted your gaze—

taehyun wasn’t even looking at you.

he was still focused on his own work, completely unaware of the storm unraveling within you. his expression remained neutral, his hands moving with practiced ease as he gathered the last of the documents, his posture relaxed as if nothing had happened. he hadn’t noticed the way you had frozen. he hadn’t heard the sharp breath that had caught in your throat. he hadn’t felt what you had felt.

you sat there, staring, mind spinning in frantic circles, barely registering the movement of his hands, the faint sound of paper rustling as he organized everything into neat stacks. he was still working. he had moved on.

your fingers tightened around your sleeve, pressing the fabric into your palm, concealing the impossible proof still resting there.

taehyun had no idea.

he hadn’t seen it.

but you had. suddenly, the way taehyun had been looking at you earlier—the way his voice had softened when he told you he’d help, the way his fingers had tapped against the table absentmindedly, as if waiting for something—felt different.

suddenly, the small, glowing flower sitting against your skin felt heavier than anything you had ever held.

your stomach twisted, fingers still curled tightly around your sleeve as you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, to act as if your world hadn’t just been turned upside down.

but deep down, you already knew.

taehyun was your soulmate.

the chair scraped against the floor as you pushed back suddenly, the legs dragging loud and jarring against the quiet that had settled between you and taehyun. the movement was too sharp, too abrupt, and when you stood, a wave of dizziness hit you like a punch to the chest. taehyun’s head snapped up at the sudden movement, brows knitting together in something close to confusion. “where are you going?” his voice was steady, but there was a slight edge to it—one that might’ve gone unnoticed if your heart wasn’t already hammering in your chest. “i thought you wanted to stay?”

you swallowed, trying to mask the way your breath felt uneven, the way something inside you trembled like a frayed wire sparking against itself. “i—” your throat felt dry. you shook your head, barely able to string together a convincing excuse. “i-i just remembered i have something to do.”

taehyun’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sharp and assessing as he leaned back in his chair. “really?”

you exhaled sharply, trying to pull yourself together, trying to keep your feet moving before you did something foolish. “yes, really,” you bit out, words a little too rushed, too forced. you took a step back, then another. “i should go.”

“now?” taehyun’s voice carried a note of incredulity, as if he was trying to make sense of the contradiction. just minutes ago, you had argued tooth and nail about staying, yet now, here you were, bolting for the door like something was chasing you.

you nodded once, stiffly, pressing your lips together. “yes. now.”

before he could say anything else, before the weight of his gaze could pin you down, you spun on your heel and hurried for the door. your heart thundered violently against your ribs, your pulse roaring in your ears, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

the cool evening air hit you like a shock to the system when you finally stepped outside, your lungs burning with the weight of everything you had just run from. but even then, even with the distance now stretching between you and taehyun, your fingers curled instinctively tighter around your sleeve, as if the mere act of holding it close could somehow make the truth disappear.

but it didn’t.

because pressed against your palm, glowing softly beneath the fabric, the tiny blue hydrangea still remained. ꒰💐꒱ you couldn't sleep.

you lay on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, but the silence in your room was anything but peaceful. it was suffocating—thick and pressing, curling around your ribs like invisible vines, making it impossible to breathe. every time you closed your eyes, you saw it. that flower. delicate and impossibly vibrant, glowing softly against your palm as if mocking you. and with it came the realization you still weren’t ready to accept, the one that had rattled you so deeply you could barely think straight.

kang taehyun was your soulmate.

your stomach twisted, a cold weight settling deep in your gut. it didn’t make sense. it couldn’t make sense. the universe, fate—whatever cruel force had determined this—must have made a mistake. had to have made a mistake. because out of all the people in the world, why him? why the one person you could barely stand, the one person who got under your skin like no one else could?

a frustrated breath tore from your lips as you sat up abruptly, shoving your blanket off. you couldn’t just sit here, drowning in the sheer absurdity of it all. your fingers reached for your phone, unlocking it in one swift motion before you began typing furiously into the search bar, your heart hammering so loudly it nearly drowned out the quiet hum of the device.

how to break a soulmate bond?

your thumb hovered over the screen as you hesitated, an uneasy feeling creeping into your chest.

then you pressed enter.

your eyes scanned the results, fingers scrolling hastily, only for a sharp sting of disappointment to hit you when the answers all read the same:

soulmates are predetermined from birth.a soulmate bond cannot be unbound.a soulmate connection is permanent.

your grip on your phone tightened.

you tried again.

can you reject your soulmate?can a soulmate connection fade?is there a way to erase a soulmate bond?

but again, every response remained cruelly, infuriatingly unchanged. your chest constricted, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration built like a storm inside you. you hated this. hated the idea that some unseen force had decided your fate without your consent, tying you to taehyun in a way you couldn’t even begin to understand.

your pulse pounded in your ears, but you forced yourself to keep reading, scanning through endless articles, forums, old folklore—anything that might give you a loophole.

and then, finally, you found something.

your eyes locked onto a passage buried within a lengthy explanation on soulmate manifestations. the words swam before you, but you forced yourself to focus, breath catching as you reread the key line over and over again.

"the flower will continue to appear until the bond is acknowledged and reciprocated."

you swallowed hard, gripping your phone tighter.

"only through mutual recognition—through intertwined touch—can the cycle be broken."

a shiver crawled up your spine, slow and deliberate, like a creeping realization settling deep into your bones. the weight of it pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe, harder to think past the overwhelming truth that had been forced upon you. your stomach twisted at the thought. as long as he didn’t know—as long as you never let your hands fully intertwine—he wouldn’t find out. the flower would keep returning, yes, but it wasn’t permanent. it wasn’t an unshakable mark of fate binding the two of you together in an irreversible way.

your breath caught as you hesitated, then slowly peeled back your sleeve, heart hammering wildly against your ribs. but when your gaze flickered down—

nothing.

the flower was gone. a sharp exhale left you, a rush of relief so sudden it nearly made you laugh. it wasn’t a mark you were doomed to wear forever. it could be hidden, erased, kept entirely to yourself. your fingers curled into a fist, as if trying to physically trap the secret away, to hold it tight before it could slip through the cracks and ruin everything.

taehyun didn’t have to know.

you could keep this to yourself. you could pretend it never happened. as long as you avoided direct contact, as long as you stayed careful, the truth would remain buried. and taehyun—your soulmate—would never have to find out.

the thought should have been comforting, should have eased the sick feeling that had settled in your stomach. but it didn’t. because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, push it down, pretend it wasn’t real—

the fact remained.

the universe had chosen taehyun for you.

and worse—

it had chosen you for him.

you exhaled slowly, pressing your palms over your eyes as if the darkness behind your lids could somehow erase the thoughts running rampant in your mind. it was useless—no matter how much you tried to push it away, the truth remained, lodged deep beneath your skin like a splinter that refused to be ignored.

still, you had to at least try.

dragging in a breath, you shifted onto your side, curling beneath the covers in a last-ditch effort to find rest, even if only for a few fleeting hours. the room was silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock on your desk, a reminder of just how little time you had left before the world would start moving again. you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest, on the softness of the sheets beneath your fingertips. if you could just empty your mind, even just for a moment.

but sleep never truly came.

instead, you drifted in and out of a restless haze, thoughts tangling and unraveling like threads in your mind. each time you closed your eyes, you swore you could still feel the lingering warmth against your palm, the faint ghost of a touch that had changed everything. and before you knew it, the sun had already risen.

a sliver of golden light filtered through your curtains, painting soft, dappled shapes across your walls. you barely had time to register the shift before your alarm blared to life, the sharp, grating sound pulling you straight back into reality.

with a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as exhaustion settled deep in your bones. the weight in your chest hadn't lessened overnight—if anything, it had only grown heavier, sinking deeper now that you had to face what came next.

school. preparing for the winter ball. more responsibilities.

and worse than that, taehyun.

your jaw tightened at the thought. there was no avoiding him. no ignoring his presence, no pretending he didn’t exist when he was the student council president, when you had to work with him to organize the ball, when he was everywhere. when, no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't just erase him from your world.

but today, you had no choice but to pretend.

pretend like nothing had changed. pretend like you weren’t walking into the same room as the person you were now inexplicably tied to. pretend like he wasn’t your soulmate.with one last deep breath, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, steeling yourself for the day ahead.

as you got ready, the soft rustle of fabric filled the quiet of your room as you slipped into your jacket, fingers instinctively pulling the sleeves down past your wrists. you had always worn one out of habit, for comfort more than anything else, but today—it served a different purpose.

today, it was a barrier.

a thin layer of protection between you and the one person who could never know the truth.

your hands lingered for a moment, curling around the edges of your sleeves as if gripping them tighter would somehow ease the weight pressing against your chest. it didn’t. but still, you exhaled slowly, steeling yourself, before finally grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

as you got off the bus, the walk to school felt longer than usual. every step was heavy, your mind still tangled in the sleepless hours of the night before. the closer you got, the more you could feel it—that slow, creeping sense of unease settling in your bones, tightening its hold with each passing second.

but you kept your head low.

you had no interest in conversation. no interest in being perceived. the last thing you needed was someone taking notice of the way your mind was still reeling, the way your body was thrumming with something unsettled, something wrong.

“you in a hurry or something?”

your breath caught.

a voice. familiar. casual. far too easy going for how completely, utterly not easy this situation was. you didn’t have to look to know who it was. your fingers curled tighter around the strap of your bag, your knuckles turning faintly white from the force of your grip. as if holding on to something tangible could tether you, could anchor you to a reality that suddenly felt unbearably fragile.

his voice was light, threaded with that signature confidence that made your stomach curl uncomfortably.

"you practically ran out of the council room yesterday," taehyun mused, the curiosity in his voice so casual, so innocent, that it almost sounded like he wasn’t completely prying. but you knew better. taehyun never asked without reason. "thought you were so insistent on staying late and finishing up the work. kind of weird that you suddenly changed your mind."

your pulse stuttered.

so he noticed.

of course he did.

you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, to fight against the tension creeping into your shoulders, the way your skin still buzzed with the weight of yesterday’s discovery.

"i changed my mind," you muttered, your voice clipped, carefully detached. "had more important things to do."

a hum. slow. drawn out. deliberate.

"oh?" taehyun says, his voice dipping ever so slightly, laced with a knowing lilt that sent an uncomfortable prickle down your spine. "that doesn’t sound like you. you never leave work unfinished, no matter how late it gets. if anything, you’d rather scold me for trying to leave early. i think that’s why it’s kind of… suspicious."

your fingers twitched. he was digging. picking at the cracks in your carefully composed exterior, sifting through the spaces where your walls weren’t quite thick enough. and you could feel it—the weight of his gaze as he examined you, silently cataloging every tiny inconsistency, every hesitation, every shift in your posture.

your stomach twisted.

he couldn’t know.

"look, i don’t know what you’re talking about," you said, feigning indifference, eyes fixed ahead. "i went home. did what i needed to do. end of story."

a silence stretched between you, thin yet impossibly dense.

"you’re a terrible liar."

the words were soft. simple. but they landed like a blow, striking something deep within you.

"seriously, what’s up with you?" taehyun continued, voice quieter now, softer around the edges, but no less insistent. his eyes were sharp, searching, tracing over your profile like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he wasn’t meant to solve. "you’ve been acting weird since yesterday. not just weird—weird in a way that actually bothers me. and that’s saying something."

your breath hitched before you could stop it, and for just a fraction of a second, your steps faltered.

it was slight—barely noticeable, barely anything—but taehyun caught it.

his gaze sharpened, quiet and unrelenting, brushing over the rigid line of your shoulders, the tightness in your grip, the way your breath had become just a little too controlled.

"seriously," he pressed again, more deliberate this time. "what’s going on with you? you don’t usually avoid eye contact like this. or, you know, sprint out of rooms like you just saw a ghost." he was watching you. waiting. reading between the spaces of your words, searching for something—an answer, a tell, the truth.

and it was too much.

too much when your thoughts were still tangled in the ghost of a blue hydrangea, too much when the memory of it felt like a brand against your skin, too much when your own chest felt like it was caving under the weight of what you could not let him know.

"i told you, it’s nothing!"

the word came out too fast, too sharp, too frayed at the edges, spilling into the space between you like a crack in fragile glass.

"nothing’s wrong, okay?" you snapped, exasperation bleeding into every syllable as you finally turned to glare at him. "i don’t know why you’re so fixated on this, but if i say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing!"

taehyun’s steps slowed, just barely, but enough for you to feel it.

then, after a beat, his lips curled.

"there’s my girl."

the words were light, teasing, but something about the way he said them—low, warm, unbearably fond—made your breath catch in your throat.

your stomach flipped.

heat crept up your neck, curling at the edges of your resolve, licking at the barriers you had so carefully built.

"don’t call me that," you snapped, voice edged with irritation, but the way your chest tightened betrayed you. taehyun only grinned wider, unfazed. "why not?” you let out a scoff, shoving past him with a force that felt more like fleeing than anything else, quickening your pace towardss the school entrance, desperate to put space between you, to shake off the warmth he left behind.

taehyun only chuckled, the sound rich with amusement, smooth and unbothered, trailing after you like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

as you and taehyun made your way towardss the principal’s office, you could still feel the weight of his earlier words clinging to your skin, but you forced yourself to push it aside, straightening your posture and steeling your expression as the two of you stepped into the office.

the principal greeted you both with a bright, approving smile, clearly pleased that the student council had taken the initiative to organize such an elaborate event. as you and taehyun pitched the ideas you had gathered from the meeting—the masquerade ball, the theme, the various activities planned—their expression only grew more delighted, nodding along enthusiastically.

"this all sounds wonderful!" he beamed, already reaching for the budget reports. "i'll grant you the funds you requested, and since this will require a lot of preparation, i'll allow you both to skip certain classes leading up to the event. just make sure to check in with your teachers and stay on top of your work."

you forced a polite smile, nodding in agreement, though internally, you grimaced at the thought of spending even more time with taehyun outside of your usual council duties. meanwhile, beside you, taehyun merely gave an easy, knowing grin, as if he could already sense your reluctance.

with the necessary approvals in hand, the two of you left the office and quickly made your way to find beomgyu and jiwon, easily spotting them in the hallway between classes. after explaining the situation, excusing them from their schedules, and going over the event details, the four of you gathered in the council room once again to divide the responsibilities.

"beomgyu, jiwon, you’ll be in charge of designing and putting up the promotional posters," taehyun started, his voice smooth and sure, as if he had already planned out the entire structure of the event in his head. "you’ll also be handling the setup for the photobooth and confirming everything with the dj and photographer."

beomgyu perked up at that, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he nodded. "oh, i have ideas already. don’t worry, the posters are gonna be a masterpiece." “so do i!” jiwon chimed in, nodding with a soft smile.

"good," taehyun said before turning to you. his gaze was steady, too steady, and you already had a bad feeling about what was coming. "that leaves us to handle the venue arrangements, the catering, and organizing the seating plans."

your stomach dropped.

"wait, what?" you blurted, brows knitting together. "why do i have to be paired with you? can't i switch?"

taehyun barely looked fazed, tilting his head in amusement. "because you’re the vice president, and i’m the president. it makes sense that we handle the major logistics together."

"but—"

"besides," he cut you off smoothly, a teasing lilt creeping into his voice, "you wouldn't want to leave all the important decision-making to me, would you? i might pick the absolute worst venue just to spite you."

you opened your mouth to protest, only to close it again when you realized he had you cornered. he knew you couldn’t let him handle this alone—not because you trusted his judgment, but because you absolutely didn’t.

your fingers clenched around the edge of the table before you finally let out a sharp exhale, shoulders dropping in reluctant defeat. "fine," you muttered, crossing your arms. "but if you make this unbearable for me, i swear—"

"i wouldn’t dream of it," taehyun interjected smoothly, lips quirking up in that ever-infuriating smirk of his.

beomgyu, watching the exchange, let out a low whistle, shooting you a look that was half amused, half pitying. "good luck," he mused, already turning towardss jiwon to start discussing the poster designs.

as much as you wanted to drag your feet and stall for time, taehyun was already leading the way towardss the computer lab, walking with that effortless confidence that somehow always managed to get under your skin. you followed begrudgingly, arms still crossed over your chest, every step weighed down by the unfortunate reality that you were stuck with him for this part of the planning.

the computer lab was mostly empty when you entered, save for a few students hunched over their screens, quietly typing away. the hum of the machines filled the air, the glow of the monitors casting a cool, sterile light over the room. taehyun wasted no time claiming a spot near the corner, settling into one of the chairs and gesturing for you to take the seat beside him.

reluctantly, you did.

"all right," he murmured, fingers already flying across the keyboard as he pulled up a search tab. "we need a venue that’s available in less than two weeks, big enough for the whole student body, and actually within our budget."

you scoffed, leaning back against your chair with an unimpressed look. "wow, really? i had no idea. it's not like i wasn’t at the meeting where we came up with this idea or anything."

taehyun barely spared you a glance, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch. "just making sure we’re on the same page," he said smoothly, scrolling through a list of banquet halls. "i know how slow you can be sometimes."

your head snapped towardss him, eyes narrowing. "excuse me?"

he hummed, feigning deep concentration as he clicked through different options. "i mean, it took you ages to realize you liked working with me. maybe this will take just as long." "i do not like working with you," you shot back, voice low and sharp.

"mhm," he hummed, tilting his head. "whatever helps you sleep at night."

your fingers curled into fists as you resisted the urge to reach over and shove him off his chair. instead, you let out a long, slow exhale, rolling your shoulders before refocusing on the task at hand. arguing with him was getting you nowhere, and you refused to give him the satisfaction of throwing you off track.

"just focus," you muttered, pulling up a different search window. "we need to find a venue, not waste time on whatever nonsense is coming out of your mouth."

"you wound me," taehyun sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "but fine, i’ll behave. for now."

you didn’t believe that for a second.

the next minutes were spent in a tense yet oddly efficient silence, both of you scanning through listings, occasionally typing out emails or jotting down notes. but of course, peace was never meant to last when taehyun was involved.

"how about this one?" he asked suddenly, turning his screen towardss you. "it’s big, has great lighting, and look—it even comes with a dance floor."

you barely glanced at it before shaking your head. "too expensive."

"oh, so now you're frugal?" he teased, clicking his tongue. "you didn't seem to care when we were talking about decorations."

"because decorations actually matter," you retorted. "unlike whatever overpriced ballroom you're looking at right now."

"overpriced?" taehyun leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "you have no taste." "and you have no concept of budgeting," you shot back, matching his posture with a challenging stare.

he grinned. "fine. your turn. pick a place."

you turned back to your screen, scanning through the options until you found one that seemed promising—spacious, reasonably priced, and still available within your tight timeframe. with a victorious smirk, you turned your laptop towardss him. "this one."

taehyun hummed, skimming over the details. then, to your immense irritation, he shrugged. "eh. it's decent."

"decent?" you repeated, your eye twitching. "it's perfect."

"i don't know," he mused, dragging out the words. "it’s a little plain, don’t you think?"

"you're plain," you grumbled under your breath.

taehyun chuckled, shaking his head as he clicked on the venue’s contact page. "all right, i’ll admit—it’s not bad. let’s call and see if it’s available."

"thank you," you huffed, leaning back in your chair.

taehyun shot you a look, his smirk still annoyingly present. "see? wasn’t that fun?"

"you’re insufferable."

"oh, please," he said, spinning slightly in his chair, "we both know that’s not true."

you exhaled sharply, closing your eyes for a brief moment to collect what little patience you had left. taehyun wasted no time pulling out his phone, fingers tapping swiftly as he dialed the number listed on the venue’s website. you followed suit, opening your email and drafting a message to another potential location, your heart already sinking at the thought of waiting for replies.

"come on, pick up," taehyun muttered under his breath, tapping his fingers against the desk impatiently as the call rang. his expression remained neutral, but you could tell from the slight furrow of his brows that he wasn’t the biggest fan of uncertainty either.

you pressed send on your email, leaning back with a sigh. "i hate this part," you admitted, watching as the message disappeared into the abyss of cyberspace. "just sitting around, waiting, hoping someone actually gets back to us soon."

"patience, grasshopper," taehyun mused, shooting you a teasing glance before straightening when someone finally answered his call. "yes, hi," he said smoothly, his tone shifting into something professional yet casual. "i was wondering if your venue is available for a school event in—"

he suddenly went quiet. you watched as his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression darkening slightly.

"... oh," he said after a pause, voice flat. "i see. no, that’s fine. thanks anyway."

you already knew what had happened before he even ended the call. "booked?"

"booked," taehyun confirmed with a sigh, tossing his phone onto the desk. "for the next three months."

"great," you muttered, rubbing your temples. "just our luck."

"don't be so dramatic," taehyun teased, picking up his phone again. "we still have options. just gotta keep trying."

"yeah, yeah," you sighed, refreshing your inbox just in case. nothing yet. not that you expected an immediate response, but it didn't stop the impatience from creeping in. your fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, the soft clicks filling the quiet space between you and taehyun as you sent out the last of your inquiries. with a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples before glancing at him. "i'll start looking for catering too," you said, already pulling up a new tab. "no point in wasting time while we wait."

taehyun glanced up from his phone, his lips curling into an approving smile. "look at you," he mused, amusement laced in his tone. "so efficient. what would we do without you?"

you rolled your eyes. "fail, probably."

he chuckled, tilting his head as if considering it. "you might be right." then, before you could react, his hand lifted slightly, fingers reaching towardss your head, the familiar motion making it painfully clear what he was about to do.

your body reacts before your mind fully processed it. panic surged through you, a sharp, instinctual jolt of alarm shooting down your spine as you immediately ducked out of his reach. your chair scraped against the floor as you leaned away, eyes widening slightly before narrowing into a glare. "don’t," you snapped, voice sharp with warning.

taehyun blinked at you, startled for all of a second before a slow, knowing grin stretched across his face. "wow," he laughed, clearly entertained by your reaction. "didn't realize you hated me that much."

you scowled, heat prickling at the back of your neck. "i just don’t like being touched."

"uh-huh," he drawled, unconvinced, but he let it go, instead leaning back in his chair with a smirk that made you want to throw your laptop at him. "whatever you say."

you huffed, turning back to your screen with more force than necessary. ignoring the way your heartbeat was still uneven, you focused on scrolling through catering options, clicking on the ones that looked promising. taehyun, meanwhile, resumed his calls, his voice switching between polite and slightly frustrated as he dealt with yet another rejection.

"seriously?" he muttered under his breath after hanging up. "do people just book venues for fun? why is everything taken?" you barely spared him a glance, typing out another inquiry. "maybe the universe just enjoys watching you suffer."

taehyun exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head as he dialed another number. "if that's the case, then it really needs to get a new hobby." your lips parted slightly as a soft chuckle slipped out before you even realized it, the sound light and fleeting amidst the quiet hum of the computer lab. you didn’t dwell on it, simply shaking your head before shifting your focus back to your screen, fingers gliding over the keyboard as you continued to scroll through catering services, listing them down one by one in a growing document. beside you, taehyun remained engrossed in his own task, his voice occasionally dipping in and out of conversation as he made yet another call.

and so, the afternoon passed in a steady rhythm—clicks of the keyboard, the quiet murmur of emails being typed, the occasional sigh of frustration whenever another rejection came through. time blurred into an endless cycle of inquiries and planning, every second dedicated to ensuring the ball would come together despite the ridiculous time constraint.

but eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, a slow and subtle weight pressing against you. the lack of sleep from the night before clawed at your consciousness, your eyelids growing heavier with every passing moment. at first, you tried to fight it, blinking rapidly and straightening your posture, but it was no use. the lull of soft ambient noise, the gentle warmth of the room, the repetitive motions all pooled together into something dangerously lulling, and before you knew it, your head dipped slightly, your body leaning into the comfortable haze of rest.

meanwhile, taehyun was still fully engaged in his work, the tip of his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he skimmed through his emails. his patience was wearing thin after what felt like the hundredth rejection, but then, his screen lit up with a notification, a new message appearing in his inbox. when he opened it, his eyes widened slightly.

"finally," he breathed, his tone shifting from weary to triumphant in an instant. then, louder, "we got one! a venue just confirmed they’re available!" but no response came.

taehyun furrowed his brows, turning his head slightly. "hey, are you—"

he stopped mid-sentence.

his gaze landed on you, and for the first time that day, he fell completely silent.

your body was relaxed, posture softened in a way he’d never seen before. your breathing was slow, steady, your lashes resting lightly against your cheeks as you remained completely still. the exhaustion you had been so clearly fighting had finally won, lulling you into an unguarded moment of peace.

taehyun’s lips parted slightly as he took in the sight before him, the sharp edges of his usual teasing demeanor smoothing out into something gentler.

his eyes traced the curve of your cheek, the way a few stray strands of hair had fallen into your face, shifting slightly with each slow exhale. for a fleeting second, his fingers twitched, the urge to reach out and tuck them away bubbling up inside him.

but he hesitated.

he knew you wouldn’t like that. instead, taehyun simply sighed, a quiet, barely-there smile tugging at the corners of his lips. shaking his head to himself, he leaned back in his chair, voice a hushed murmur as he muttered,

"maybe another time." ꒰💐꒱ the world around you was slow to come into focus. a quiet groan slipped past your lips as you sat up, stretching your arms over your head, your body protesting the hours spent slumped over in an awkward position. your fingers moved to rub the sleep from your eyes, the lingering haze of exhaustion still clinging to you like a thick fog. for a moment, everything was a blur—the dim hum of computer screens, the distant echoes of muffled footsteps from outside, the faint glow of the overhead lights. but as your mind caught up with your surroundings, realization settled over you like a sudden jolt.

you were still in the computer lab.

blinking away the remnants of sleep, your gaze drifted over the space, taking in the faint glow of the monitors, the scattered notes, and the quiet that had settled into the room like a thick, undisturbed blanket. it was late. way too late.

but then, as your eyes continued to wander, they landed on something—or rather, someone. just beside you, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, arms loosely crossed over his chest, was taehyun. asleep.

you stilled.

for a long moment, you simply stared, your breath caught somewhere between surprise and something far too unnameable to grasp. taehyun was never this still, never this quiet. he was all sharp edges and smooth confidence, all witty remarks and knowing smirks. yet, in this moment, every single ounce of that usual energy had melted away.

your eyes traced the softened lines of his face, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, casting delicate shadows against his skin. his lips, usually curved into something smug or teasing, were parted just slightly, his breathing even and unhurried. he looked… peaceful.

your fingers twitched slightly against your lap, as if unsure of what to do with themselves. you had never seen him like this before, had never had the chance to observe him without his usual air of unwavering self-assurance. your body moved before your mind could even begin to comprehend what you were about to do.

it was irrational. reckless, even. completely devoid of the careful distance you had sworn to maintain between the two of you. but despite every screaming thought urging you to stop, despite the warning bells ringing furiously in the back of your mind, your hand was already moving, trembling slightly as it hovered just above taehyun’s skin, caught in a delicate hesitation that lasted all but a second.

and then, before you could so much as blink, before common sense could come crashing down like a tidal wave and pull you away—

your fingertips brushed against his cheek.

warm.

taehyun was warm.

so impossibly warm that the contrast against the cool air of the computer lab sent a shiver down your spine. it wasn’t much—just the lightest touch, barely there, fleeting like a whisper of wind. so delicate it could have easily been mistaken for a trick of the mind.

but it wasn’t.

because the moment your skin made contact with his, an all-too-familiar heat unfurled across your wrist—burning, spreading, blooming like ink in water. your breath caught in your throat, your entire body stiffening as realization slammed into you with the force of a freight train.

oh.

oh no.

it was happening again.

the hydrangea—it was back. you didn’t even need to roll up your sleeve to check. you felt it, felt the warmth seeping into your skin like an irreversible brand, a cruel reminder of the connection you were desperately trying to ignore.

your heartbeat stuttered, then picked up pace, pounding against your ribs like it was attempting to escape. what have you done? what on earth had possessed you to—

a shift.

a breath.

a quiet inhale, followed by the faintest stir of movement.

taehyun was waking up.

your stomach twisted painfully, panic slamming into your chest with dizzying force as his body tensed slightly, as his lashes fluttered ever so faintly, as the slow pull of consciousness dragged him from sleep.

you ripped your hand away as if burned, shoving it into your lap, curling your fingers into the fabric of your skirt in a poor attempt to ground yourself. but the damage was already done. you had been too late.

taehyun’s eyes cracked open, hazy with sleep, dark irises unfocused as they attempted to adjust to the dim lighting. for a moment, he looked dazed, blinking sluggishly, his expression lost in the remnants of slumber. but then his gaze settled on you.

still sitting too close.

still stiff with the remnants of panic.

taehyun’s brows furrowed slightly, a quiet breath escaping his lips, his voice still heavy with drowsiness. “were you just—?”

“no.”

the word shot out of your mouth before he could even finish his sentence, abrupt and sharp, too quick, too defensive. you barely resisted the urge to flinch at how obvious it sounded, how guilty it made you seem.

taehyun blinked again, sluggish and confused, his gaze flickering between your face and the way you were suddenly clutching your hands together as if you were trying to physically restrain yourself. his gaze lingered for a second too long, sharp despite the remnants of sleep still clouding his features, and then, as if a switch had flipped, his lips stretched into that insufferable, knowing grin—the one that always meant trouble.

taehyun sat up straighter, stretching his arms out with a low hum before tilting his head towardss you, expression brimming with mischief. “so,” he drawled, eyes glinting, “are you gonna tell me what that was about, or should i start guessing?”

“nothing,” you muttered, a little too quickly, shifting in your seat, fingers curling tighter around the ends of your sleeves, your grip near suffocating as you tugged the fabric down as far as it would go.

taehyun leaned in slightly, feigning deep contemplation. “hm, you sure? because it really seemed like—”

“it wasn’t,” you snapped, gaze locked stubbornly on the desk, anywhere but at him, anywhere but those sharp eyes that always seemed to see far too much. “just thought you had dirt in your face.”

“you’re a terrible liar.”

“and you’re annoying.”

“a little defensive, don’t you think?”

your grip on your sleeves tightened further, fingers curling so desperately around the fabric that your knuckles turned white, nails pressing in with enough force that they nearly pierced through.

taehyun simply leaned back against his chair, smugness dripping from every inch of him as he studied you with lazy amusement. “what, did you get tired of glaring at me and decide watching me sleep was more entertaining?”

your patience, already worn dangerously thin, snapped. “i told you, it’s not what you think!” you groaned, pushing yourself up from your seat and shoving your things into your bag with far more force than necessary, each motion sharp and hurried—zipping up folders with a little too much vigor, stuffing loose papers inside with no care for whether they crumpled or not. taehyun’s grin only widened as he watched you all but stuff your things into your bag, each movement hurried and brimming with frustration. you could practically hear the amusement dripping from his voice as he tilted his head, unbothered by your growing irritation.

“you know,” he mused, stretching his arms out as if he had all the time in the world, “you’re acting really suspicious right now.”

you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “oh, please. if anyone’s suspicious, it’s you.”

“me?” he gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense, though the effect was ruined by the barely contained smirk tugging at his lips. “i just woke up, and now i’m being accused? unbelievable.”

“yeah, well, believe it,” you shot back, zipping up your bag with more force than necessary. “you’re always up to something.”

taehyun hummed, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you with lazy amusement. “you’re deflecting.”

“you’re projecting.”

he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “this is the worst attempt at changing the subject i’ve ever seen.”

your grip on your bag strap tightened. “maybe if you shut up, we wouldn’t need to change the subject at all.”

taehyun only smirked, his eyes glinting in that way that always made your stomach twist. “so, let me get this straight,” he says, tapping a finger against his chin as if deep in thought. “you’re telling me you really weren’t just staring at me while i was sleeping? because from where i’m standing, it really looked like you were admiring me.”

your entire body went rigid. “i was not—!”

“no need to be shy,” taehyun continued, his voice syrupy sweet, the kind of tone that dripped with amusement and a touch of self-satisfaction, tilting his head just slightly, leaning into your space like he was savoring every second of your frustration. “i get it. i mean, you don’t get to see me this peaceful that often. i must’ve looked pretty cute, huh?”

your jaw nearly dropped, lips parting in sheer disbelief at the audacity—the absolute gall—he had to say that with a straight face. “oh my god. shut up.”

taehyun gasped again, clutching his chest as if you had just personally wounded him, eyes wide with faux shock, though the mischief never left his face. “you were watching me, weren’t you? i knew it!”

your fingers curled around the strap of your bag, knuckles turning bone-white from how hard you were gripping it, the pressure grounding you against the unbearable mix of panic and irritation bubbling in your chest. “you know what?” you huffed, your voice sharp and clipped, already done with this conversation before it could escalate any further. “i don’t have to stand here and listen to this.”

without another word, you spun on your heel, movements stiff with frustration as you stormed towardss the door, each step fueled by the desperate need to escape before he could dig any deeper into your flustered state. but, of course, taehyun was already up, barely missing a beat before falling into step beside you, effortlessly matching your hurried pace with infuriating ease. his laughter trailed after you like an ever-present shadow, light and teasing, his amusement practically radiating off of him.

“hey, don’t run away now,” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, the playfulness evident in every syllable as he shot you a look that only made your irritation spike further. “i have more questions!”

you groaned, pressing your lips together in a firm line, refusing to dignify him with a response as you quickened your steps—but taehyun was right there, undeterred, his grin only widening as if he thrived on seeing you squirm.

as if sensing the utter exasperation radiating off you in waves, taehyun finally—mercifully—let the teasing subside, falling into step beside you without another word. you kept to yourself, keeping your gaze ahead, shoulders still slightly tense from the lingering remnants of his antics.

every now and then, your fingers twitched at your side before subtly moving to check your wrist, barely lifting the fabric of your sleeve as you stole a glance at the skin beneath. you weren’t sure why you kept looking, but each time, your stomach twisted with a strange mix of nerves and anticipation.

eventually, on what must have been your fifth or sixth check, you finally let out a quiet sigh, relief washing over you at the sight of bare skin. the soft exhale wasn’t loud by any means, but taehyun, ever perceptive, immediately picked up on it.

“what’s got you so relieved?” he chirped, his voice breaking through the quiet with an almost childlike curiosity.

you tensed for half a second before quickly schooling your features back into indifference, rolling your eyes as if to dismiss his question entirely. “none of your business,” you muttered, keeping your voice even, though you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

but instead of prying, which was something he would normally do just to get a rise out of you, taehyun simply smiled. not the usual smirk, not the playful glint of mischief, but something softer, something almost… fond.

“okay,” he said easily, like he wasn’t the least bit offended by your refusal to answer. the two of you walked in silence after that, the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps against the pavement filling the space between you. the air was crisp, carrying with it the distant hum of the city, the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind passed through.

after a while, taehyun spoke again, this time without any trace of teasing in his tone. “by the way, the venue’s set,” he said, glancing at you briefly before turning his gaze back ahead. “we got the confirmation while you were asleep. the deal’s all settled.”

you hummed at that, not quite looking at him as you muttered, “that’s good.”

another beat of silence stretched between you before something nudged at the back of your mind, something that had been lingering there ever since you had woken up in the computer lab. furrowing your brows slightly, you turned to him, your voice laced with mild confusion as you asked, “why were you sleeping too, anyway? you could’ve just gone home.”

taehyun barely blinked, as if he had been expecting the question. his expression remained as casual as ever, hands tucked into his pockets as he shrugged. “well, i couldn’t just leave you sleeping there all alone,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “and i’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have liked it if i woke you up either, so…”

his voice trailed off, but the implication lingered between you. your steps faltered for just a fraction of a second, eyes flickering towardss him instinctively, but he wasn’t looking at you. instead, he just kept walking, his expression unreadable, as if what he had said wasn’t anything significant at all.

the silence lingered between you, stretching with each step as the station gradually came into view. the sky had dimmed to a deeper shade of blue, the distant hum of the city settling into its evening rhythm. streetlights flickered on one by one, casting pools of golden light onto the pavement, their glow catching in the strands of taehyun’s hair as he walked just a little ahead of you.

you weren’t sure why, but you found yourself slowing down, your feet moving with less urgency now that you were nearing your stop. it was strange; usually, by this point, you would’ve been itching to part ways, to shake off the exhausting push and pull that always came with being around taehyun. but tonight, the usual exasperation felt… muted. replaced by something quieter. something you couldn’t quite name. taehyun was the first to break the silence.

“well,” he said, stopping just before the steps leading down to the station. he turned to you then, hands still tucked into his pockets, his smile softer now, lacking its usual sharp edge. “guess this is where we part ways.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden finality of it. but before you could even think of something to say, he was already stepping back, tilting his head slightly as he regarded you with something unreadable in his expression.

“don’t stay up too late,” taehyun added, and though his tone remained casual, there was a quiet sincerity beneath it, woven into the way his gaze lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

your fingers curled around the strap of your bag, tightening for reasons you didn’t quite understand. “yeah,” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “you too.”

taehyun exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if amused by your halfhearted response. then, with one last glance, he turned, descending the steps with an ease that made it seem like this was nothing more than an ordinary parting.

but as you stood there, watching his figure disappear into the station, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. that, for the first time, you weren’t entirely relieved to see him go. ꒰💐꒱ the next few days blurred into a whirlwind of endless tasks, a relentless cycle of emails, phone calls, and meetings that left little room for anything else. mornings bled into afternoons, and afternoons stretched deep into the night, each one spent buried under an ever-growing to-do list. it felt as if the four of you were caught in the eye of a storm—one of your own making—drowning in preparations with barely a moment to come up for air.

the student council room had practically become your second home, its once neat and organized space now overrun with scattered papers, sample designs, and half-empty cups of coffee that none of you had the energy to clean up. rolls of fabric for table decorations sat in one corner, half-unfurled and abandoned, while poster drafts covered every available surface, some marked with hurried notes and others discarded altogether. the air was thick with the scent of paper and ink, the soft hum of printers and the occasional frustrated groan the only constants in the chaos.

beomgyu and jiwon were deep into their share of responsibilities, bouncing between designing promotional posters and confirming song choices with the dj. beomgyu, ever the perfectionist, went through what felt like a hundred drafts, grumbling under his breath every time jiwon pointed out a detail he had missed. their bickering became white noise at this point—background music to the madness—though, to be fair, it was nowhere near as bad as yours and taehyun’s.

because while the two argued over shades of blue and font choices, you and taehyun had the far more tedious task of finalizing the seating arrangements and catering. it meant making endless calls, negotiating over prices, and somehow fitting everything within the budget. it meant working side by side for hours on end, forced to cooperate despite how often you got on each other’s nerves. and somehow, even in the midst of all this exhaustion, taehyun still found the time to tease you—throwing in an unnecessary comment every chance he got just to watch your patience wear thinner and thinner.

"what would you do without me?" he mused one afternoon, stretching his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. "actually, don’t answer that. i already know—this whole event would be a disaster."

you didn’t even look up from your laptop. "i swear to god, kang, if you don’t shut up—"

"what?" taehyun grinned, feigning innocence. "you’d miss me."

your glare could’ve set something on fire.

but despite all of it—the chaos, the exhaustion, the relentless teasing—the ball was finally beginning to take shape. details were falling into place, confirmations were being made, and the days that once seemed endless were now hurtling towardss the event itself. there was still so much to do, but for the first time, it felt within reach. the halls of the campus were practically buzzing with anticipation, filled with the kind of excitement that only came around during events like this. everywhere you looked, people were either wrapped up in their own little worlds with their significant others or fluttering around in hopeful search of their soulmates, their eyes filled with that dreamy sort of longing. laughter echoed off the walls, whispered confessions were exchanged in corners, and the air itself seemed to hum with something light and intoxicating.

it was nauseating.

you rolled your eyes, a quiet scoff slipping past your lips as you adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder. the entire scene before you was so painfully cliché, it almost made your skin crawl. and yet, despite the irritation bristling at the back of your mind, there was something else beneath it—something quiet, something you didn’t want to name. a strange unease settled in the pit of your stomach, an odd sort of weight pressing against your chest.

but like always, you ignored it.

beside you, taehyun walked with easy strides, hands tucked into his pockets, the usual self-assured air about him. today, the two of you were heading out to check on the venue for the winter masquerade ball, making sure the decorations were all set and that everything was coming together smoothly. with only a few days left before the event, the pressure was starting to settle in, but for now, you were stuck navigating through the suffocating atmosphere of romance filling the campus.

taehyun, ever perceptive, caught the eye roll almost instantly.

"oh? what’s this?" his voice was dripping with amusement, and when you turned to look at him, he was already wearing that insufferably smug smirk. "jealous, aren’t we?"

your head snapped towardss him, shooting him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "excuse me?"

taehyun only laughed, clearly enjoying this far too much. "come on, it’s okay to admit it. all these happy couples, all these people finding their soulmates just in time for the ball—" he gestured lazily at the scene around you. "i get it. it must be hard, watching all this when you’re still so tragically alone."

your lips parted, utterly scandalized. "i am not—" you sucked in a breath, fingers curling into your sleeves as you struggled to find a proper retort. "oh, shut up. just because you have nothing better to do than pester me doesn’t mean you get to act like you’re above all of this."

he hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head as if he was actually considering your words. then, with a completely straight face, he replied, "oh, but i am above all of this."

you groaned, throwing your hands up in exasperation as you quickened your pace, determined to put some distance between yourself and his insufferable teasing. but, as always, he was right there beside you, matching your steps with ease, his laughter trailing behind him like an echo.

the crisp winter air greeted you the moment you stepped outside, biting at the exposed skin of your cheeks despite the layers of warmth wrapped around you. the sun hung low in the sky, its golden light diffused by thin clouds, casting long, spindly shadows across the pavement like delicate cracks in ice. you barely spared a thought for the route ahead, already expecting taehyun to lead the way towardss the bus station, except, when you glanced over, he was walking in an entirely different direction, his strides unbothered, as if this was the plan all along.

your steps faltered, boots scuffing against the pavement as you abruptly came to a halt, brows knitting together in confusion. your gaze followed his path, trailing after him as he moved further and further away from the usual route. "...where are you going?" you called out, your voice carrying across the quiet afternoon air, laced with equal parts bewilderment and suspicion.

"to the venue."

his response was casual, so effortlessly nonchalant that for a brief second, you thought you had misheard him. but he didn’t stop walking. he didn’t even bother to glance back at you, hands shoved into his pockets as he strode ahead with unwavering confidence.

you blinked. once. twice. then, as if compelled by some cruel force, you turned your head slightly, following the path of his footsteps until—

your stomach plummeted.

there, parked neatly along the sidewalk, was a row of bicycles, their metal frames gleaming coldly beneath the pale winter sun. they stood like silent witnesses to your impending doom, completely harmless to anyone else—but to you, they may as well have been a death sentence.

"you're joking," you deadpanned, your voice void of any amusement, the words falling from your lips like lead.

finally, taehyun turned his head just enough to flash you a slow, lazy grin, the kind that sent warning bells clanging in your head. "nope."

"you're going the wrong way," "nope," a sharp huff of disbelief escaped you, frustration curling in your chest as you hastened your steps to catch up with him. "taehyun," you said, his name leaving your lips like a warning, like a thread pulled taut. "the station’s that way." with a swift movement, you jabbed a gloved finger behind you, pointing at the correct direction as if he had somehow forgotten the most basic detail of your usual routine.

but taehyun didn’t so much as falter. instead, he merely hummed, finally coming to a stop beside the bicycles, his movements as fluid as ever as he bent down, fingers deftly unfastening one of the helmets before straightening back up. "and the buses during noon are either overflowing with people or completely nonexistent," he countered smoothly, his voice carrying that infuriating ease that told you he had already thought this through. "so, unless you’d rather stand around for an hour getting elbowed and shoved by strangers, we’re going by bike."

your breath caught in your throat.

by bike.as in, you would have to sit behind him. on the same seat. with your hands gripping onto him for balance. close. too close.

panic flared within you like a sudden spark, igniting a wildfire of dread that spread rapidly through your veins. this was bad. this was very, very bad.

your fingers curled at your sides, tightening into fists as you scrambled for an excuse, anything that would get you out of this. "absolutely not," you blurted out, the words spilling out in an instant, rushed and firm. "there is no way i’m getting on that thing."

taehyun finally turned to you fully, one brow arching in that insufferable way that made your blood simmer with irritation. "oh?" he drawled, tilting his head slightly, his lips twitching at the corners as if barely restraining a smirk. "what, scared you'll fall?"

"no!" you snapped, far too quickly, far too defensive.

his smirk widened, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes like a cat who had cornered its prey. "then what's the problem?"

you opened your mouth, ready to throw back a sharp retort, ready to argue—but nothing came out. because you had no real excuse. not one that you could say aloud, at least.

because what were you supposed to tell him? that if you got too close, if your fingers so much as brushed against his skin, the hydrangea might bloom? that if he saw it, if he noticed, he would know?

taehyun, of course, was not one to back down so easily. he tapped his fingers against the bicycle’s handlebars, pretending to contemplate something, his expression exaggeratedly thoughtful. "hmm," he mused aloud, his tone light, almost playful. "well, if i go by myself, i’ll just have to check on the decor alone." taehyun sighed dramatically, shaking his head as if the very thought was exhausting. "and you know what that means. one second, the decorations are fine, the next, they’re a complete disaster. bows tied the wrong way, color schemes clashing, centerpieces all tilted and uneven—" your eye twitched violently.

"you're doing this on purpose," you accused, voice tight, heat creeping into your tone as frustration bubbled dangerously close to the surface.

"i have no idea what you’re talking about."

your teeth clenched.

you inhaled sharply, a single, measured breath, before exhaling just as forcefully. then, with a muttered curse under your breath, you ripped the helmet from his hands, yanking it onto your head with far more aggression than necessary. the strap snapped against your chin, stinging slightly, but you ignored it, too preoccupied with the simmering frustration roiling in your chest.

taehyun simply grinned, utterly unfazed by your obvious annoyance, and with an easy flick of his wrist, he patted the seat behind him before nudging his chin towardss it. “alright, hop on.” your entire body refused to move.

standing there, feet rooted firmly to the ground, you stared at the bicycle as if it were some kind of trap, a snare carefully laid out just for you. your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, curling inward, heart drumming steadily against your ribs as your mind whirred through all the possible ways this could go wrong.

if you got on, you wouldn’t be able to avoid touching him—not entirely. even the smallest brush of your skin against his, even the briefest moment of contact, could be enough. and if it bloomed, if the petals unfurled along your wrist, or worse, his—

you swallowed hard.

the helmet suddenly felt suffocating, its strap pressing against your chin as if trying to ground you, trying to force you into action. but you hesitated, standing frozen on the pavement, unable to shake off the overwhelming weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. taehyun notices. “what? don’t tell me you’re scared now,” he drawled, amusement still evident in his voice, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe, or just the simple act of waiting.

you scowled, snapping yourself out of your daze with a sharp inhale through your nose. you couldn’t stand here forever.

gathering whatever was left of your resolve, you stepped forward, moving stiffly as you approached the bicycle. your movements felt painfully deliberate, like you were walking straight towardss a decision you couldn’t take back. then, with a slow, reluctant motion, you lifted your leg over the seat, settling yourself behind taehyun, barely touching him.

your hands hovered uncertainly in the air, fingers twitching slightly as you debated where to place them. his shoulders? his waist? no. definitely not his waist. the thought alone sent a rush of warmth up your cheeks.

finally, hesitantly, you let your hands rest lightly on his shoulders, barely applying any pressure, as if keeping yourself from pressing too close would somehow change anything.

taehyun must have felt your hesitance, because he turned his head slightly, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. “you’re gonna fall off if you sit like that,” he remarked, his voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement.

“i’m fine.”

“mhm. sure.” he didn’t sound convinced.

then, without warning, he pushed off the ground with an effortless ease, his foot pressing against the pavement before the bike lurched forward.

the sudden movement sent a sharp jolt through your entire body, a startled gasp slipping past your lips before you could swallow it down. the world tilted for a split second, the ground beneath you no longer stable, no longer unmoving, and the realization crashed over you all at once—you were on a bike, with taehyun, and you were moving. Fast.

your fingers curled around his shoulders, grip tightening instinctively, and for a brief, terrifying second, you thought you felt something stir beneath your sleeve—a faint, barely-there sensation, like a whisper against your skin. but before panic could sink its claws into you, taehyun’s voice broke through the moment. "relax," he mused, his voice carrying that ever-present amusement, like he was thoroughly enjoying your distress. "hold on tight, yeah? don’t want you flying off."

your head snapped up, indignation flaring in your chest as you gritted your teeth. "don’t move so fast, idiot! you’re gonna kill us both!"

but taehyun only laughed, the sound warm and unbothered, like the very thought of crashing was so far-fetched that it didn’t even deserve consideration. the bike swayed slightly as he shifted his weight, adjusting the pedals with a practiced ease, and your breath hitched, grip tightening further.

"oh, come on," he sighed dramatically, though there was no mistaking the grin in his voice. "have a little faith, will you?"

you squeezed your eyes shut for a brief second, inhaling sharply as you willed your nerves to settle. the cold air whipped past your face, stinging against your skin, but that was the least of your worries right now, no, what truly had your heart in a vice grip was the fact that you were still on his stupid bike, still pressed far too close to taehyun, still painfully aware of every little movement he made.

you prayed silently, desperately to whoever was out there listening that you wouldn’t fall off to your untimely demise, that you wouldn’t end up sprawled across the pavement in a tangled heap of limbs and regret. but, more than anything, you prayed that your skin wouldn’t touch his. not even for a second. not even the faintest brush.

your hands remained stiff where they rested on his shoulders, fingers curled awkwardly, hovering more than gripping, as if maintaining even the smallest gap would somehow be enough to stop the inevitable. it was ridiculous. stupid, even. and yet, you couldn’t shake the fear that if your wrists so much as grazed against him, the delicate petals of a hydrangea might bloom in betrayal.

taehyun, of course, was completely unaware of your silent internal crisis. if anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself, weaving through the streets with an effortless ease, as if he wasn’t carrying the weight of someone actively trying not to touch him. the bike glided smoothly along the pavement, tires humming against the road, and despite the sheer panic buzzing in your chest, you had to admit—he was good at this. confident. steady. in control.

not that you would ever tell him that.

“you’re awfully quiet back there,” taehyun noted after a moment, his voice laced with amusement. "don't tell me you're actually scared."

you scowled, even though he couldn’t see it. “i'm not scared,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

"right," he drawled, clearly unconvinced. "is that why you’re holding onto me like i’m your last hope for survival?"

your cheeks burned. "i’m most definitely not—"

before you could finish, he suddenly shifted his weight again, making a sharp but controlled turn onto a smaller road, and you barely swallowed down a yelp, fingers tightening against his shoulders by instinct.

taehyun laughed, a full, delighted laugh that rang through the air like a bell. "see? told you to hold on tight."

if the threat of a hydrangea blooming on either of your wrists wasn’t dangling over you like a guillotine—if it wouldn’t immediately make it known to taehyun that you were soulmates—you would have already smacked him straight to the ends of the earth without hesitation.

but, as it stood, you could only grit your teeth and endure, willing yourself to focus on anything else, anything other than the warmth radiating from where your fingers clutched his shoulders, anything other than the way his laughter curled around you like an infuriatingly bright ribbon. thankfully, after what felt like an eternity of praying, of resisting the urge to strangle him, of cursing whoever decided bikes were a viable mode of transportation, the venue finally came into view.

and it was… perfect.

even from the outside, the building exudes elegance, standing tall with its grand, arched windows and smooth stone façade. the entrance is framed by a set of wide, ornate double doors, the deep mahogany polished to a gleam, reflecting the soft, winter light. despite the season, the space feels warm and inviting, as if it had been plucked straight out of a fairy tale and placed in the heart of the city.

the mere thought of the upcoming event—the swirling gowns, the mystery of masked faces, the way the night will undoubtedly hold something unforeseen—sends a strange sensation curling in your chest. something close to anticipation, but not quite.

you quickly shove the feeling aside, choosing instead to focus on the fact that you have, miraculously, survived the journey in one piece.

taehyun rolls the bike to a stop just outside the entrance, planting his foot down to steady you both before tilting his head back slightly. "see?" he hums, the smugness practically dripping from his voice. "told you i'd get us here alive."

you roll your eyes, exhaling sharply as you finally hop off his godforsaken bike, your legs feeling slightly wobbly beneath you. stretching your arms over your head, you try to shake off the lingering tension, as if that might somehow erase the memory of the past ten minutes clinging onto taehyun for dear life.

taehyun, of course, was completely unaffected, effortlessly swinging his leg over and parking the bike right near the entrance. you followed suit, brushing your hands against your coat, as if smoothing out invisible creases, before the two of you step forward, pushing through the grand double doors and into the venue.

and the minute you do, it's… everything. you step further into the ballroom, your gaze sweeping across the breathtaking transformation before you. for a moment, you allow yourself to take it all in—the warm, golden light filtering through the chandeliers, the way the sheer, icy-blue drapes cascade from the walls like frozen waterfalls, the way the entire space shimmers with an almost dreamlike quality.

it feels unreal. after all the planning, the endless meetings, the stress and exhaustion of making sure everything fell into place… it’s finally here. almost.

taehyun lets out a low whistle beside you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he surveys the room. “not bad,” he muses, tilting his head. “almost looks too good, actually. like if someone breathes wrong, the whole thing will fall apart.”

you scoff, “let’s hope that doesn’t happen, then.”

as if summoned by your words, one of the hired decorators suddenly calls out, struggling with a particularly stubborn garland that refuses to stay in place. without hesitation, taehyun strides over, sleeves rolling up as he offers a hand, his sharp eyes quickly assessing the situation. you follow, stepping in to adjust a centerpiece that’s slightly off-center, making sure every little detail is aligned to perfection.

but as you reach for the delicate arrangement, your gloves—thick and slightly cumbersome from the cold—made it difficult to adjust the smaller details. you hesitate, glancing down at your hands before exhaling softly. with a swift motion, you tug them off, tucking them into your coat pocket. bare fingers now meeting the cool surface of the table, you press forward, ensuring everything was as precise as possible.

it took a while, moving from one area to another, helping the staff tweak small things here and there—fixing a misplaced bow, adjusting the arrangement of fairy lights along the balcony railing, making sure the candles in the lanterns were evenly spaced. the chill in the air bites at your exposed skin, but you barely register it, too focused on making sure everything is just right.

but then, just as you’re adjusting the placement of one of the floral centerpieces, your fingers freeze mid-motion.

blue hydrangeas.among the delicate clusters of winter roses and baby’s breath, the soft, cerulean petals stand out like tiny fragments of the sky, woven seamlessly into the arrangements, as if they belonged there all along.

your heart stutters.

you turn to taehyun, pointing at the flowers, your voice carefully neutral. “since when were these part of the arrangement?”

he follows your gaze, eyes landing on the hydrangeas, before he shrugs with an easy, unconcerned expression. “i don’t know. added them to the mix since i thought they’d look really pretty.”

you swallowed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, fingers absently curling onto the fabric of your coat sleeve. they were just flowers. nothing more. just a simple, aesthetic choice. that’s all.

and yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe was laughing at you.

at one point, you found yourself untangling a mess of fairy lights that had somehow gotten knotted beyond reason. your fingers worked through them carefully, but the knots were stubborn, refusing to budge no matter how gently you pried them apart. frustration bubbles up in your chest as you huff, brows furrowing in concentration.

and then, without warning, taehyun’s hands appear beside yours.

your breath stills, body going rigid, heart lurching into your throat as his fingers slip effortlessly into the tangled mess. for one agonizing second, panic flares beneath your skin—what if you touch? what if, just for a moment, his fingertips graze yours? what if—

but before the thought can spiral any further, before disaster can strike, he’d already flicked his wrist, unraveling the last of the tangles with infuriating ease, his hands retreating just as quickly as they arrived. "you're too slow," taehyun teases, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

you exhale sharply, a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, forcing yourself to relax as you straighten. you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to will away the lingering tension in your spine, but before you could snap back with something equally smug, he was already walking off, adjusting the final row of lanterns along the walls like nothing had happened. time slips by unnoticed as you both continue, making minor adjustments, ensuring that every single detail was as perfect as it could be. and when you finally step back, surveying the entirety of the ballroom, it hits you—this is it. it was done.

everything was set.

with a slow, satisfied exhale, you turned to taehyun, who stood a few feet away, hands on his hips as he scanned the space with an approving nod. "not bad," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

"not bad?" you echo, raising a brow. "try amazing."

taehyun chuckles, shaking his head before motioning towardss the stage. "c’mon, let’s sit for a bit before heading back. i think we earned it."

you don’t argue, your feet already aching from standing for so long. together, the two of you made your way towardss the stage, slipping past the elegant centerpieces and rows of carefully arranged chairs. as soon as you reach the steps leading up to the platform, you drop down onto the edge of it, stretching your legs out with a quiet sigh. for a moment, neither of you spoke, simply taking in the sight before you. the ballroom, once a hollow, undecorated space, now glows under the golden hue of the chandeliers, the candlelight flickering against the polished floors, the sheer drapery billowing gently with the faintest movement of air. the hydrangeas—those damned, perfectly arranged hydrangeas—stood out among the floral displays, their deep blue petals catching the light in a way that made them look almost otherworldly.

it was beautiful. truly.

and yet, as your eyes flicker to taehyun, who sits beside you on the stage steps, you find the weight of his gaze is already on you.

your breath catches in your throat.

his eyes held a certain softness to them, something quiet and knowing, as if he had been watching you for longer than you realized. it sends a strange, unwelcome warmth creeping up your neck, and before it can spread any further, you quickly tear your gaze away, looking straight ahead instead.

"the flowers," you murmur, forcing the words out before the silence stretches too long. "they're really pretty."

you didn’t look at him when you said it. you didn’t dare.

but taehyun, who kept his gaze trained on you, only smiles—slow and fond, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"yeah," he says, his voice impossibly gentle. "really pretty indeed." the silence stretches between you again, heavier this time, though you refused to acknowledge it. you kept your gaze fixed ahead, determined to avoid taehyun’s eyes, pretending that the steady warmth of his presence beside you wasn’t throwing you off balance.

you shift slightly, putting a little more distance between you. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel like you could breathe properly again.

and then, taehyun spoke.

"say…" his voice was casual, almost too casual, but there was a lilt of something unreadable beneath it. "do you already have your date for the winter ball?"

your fingers, still idly toying with the edge of your sleeve, still at his words. you scoffed, more out of reflex than anything, before rolling your shoulders in an attempt to feign nonchalance. "i’ll be too busy," you say, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "you know, making sure everything goes smoothly. unlike you, who’ll probably spend the whole night slacking off."

taehyun huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "still have no faith in me?" he says, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. "and here i was, thinking you’d at least take a break to enjoy the night."

"not happening."

"oh, come on," he drawls, nudging your arm with his elbow. "you mean to tell me that out of everyone in the entire school, no one's lined up to ask the vice president to be their date?"

"i don’t know, kang," you deadpan, finally glancing at him, only to be met with his smug little smirk. "why don’t you take a wild guess?"

his smirk deepens, a flash of white against the dim glow of the fairy lights. “ouch,” taehyun drawls, tilting his head slightly as he watches you with playful intent. “so, what, are you just gonna spend the whole night running around, making sure forks are perfectly aligned or something?”

you let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way his teasing lilt sends an unwelcome flutter through your stomach. “someone has to,” you counter, lifting your chin in defiance.

taehyun hums, a quiet sound that vibrates in the space between you, and for a moment, his gaze flickers—just for a fraction of a second, like he’s thinking about something, weighing his words before he speaks. and then, after a pause that stretches just long enough to make you shift uncomfortably, he says, voice smooth, casual, yet somehow deliberate.

“well, if you don’t have a date… then go with me.”

the world seems to tilt beneath you. your breath stills, caught somewhere between your lungs, your entire body locking into place as if you’ve been turned to stone. the words didn’t register at first—not fully, not properly—because there was no way he just said that.

but then, taehyun’s eyes were on you, unwavering, unreadable, and suddenly, it was real.

your head snaps towardss him so fast that your vision blurs for a second, a sharp jolt running down your spine from the sheer force of your reaction. “what?”

taehyun doesn’t laugh. he doesn’t smirk, doesn’t follow it up with some teasing remark like you expected him to. instead, he just looks at you, gaze steady, unwavering. there was something different in his expression—something softer, something that sent your heartbeat into an erratic, stuttering rhythm that you couldn’t seem to control.

he tilts his head slightly, brows lifting in the faintest hint of amusement, but his voice remains even, genuine, when he repeats, “be my date for the winter ball.”

and that’s when it truly sinks in.

taehyun wasn’t joking.

he wasn’t messing with you, not throwing out an empty invitation just to get a reaction out of you. he was asking—really asking.

your pulse pounds so loudly in your ears that you almost missed the way his fingers tapped idly against his knee, the only sign that he might not be as unaffected as he looked.

you stare at him, mouth opening, then closing, then opening again, but no sound comes out. your brain was short-circuiting, struggling to process this new reality, to make sense of the fact that kang taehyun—the sharp-witted, ever-teasing, infuriatingly smug student council president—just asked you to be his date.

and what’s worse was he was still looking at you like he was waiting for an answer. your throat feels dry as you blinked rapidly, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog. you struggle to find your voice, to piece together a response that doesn’t make you sound completely and utterly unhinged, but all that comes out is a broken, stuttering—

“w-why are you asking me?”

taehyun stiffened, just slightly.

it was barely noticeable; the way his shoulders tensed for half a second before he exhales slowly, as if trying to compose himself. and then, just like that, the boy in front of you suddenly wasn’t quite as composed as before.

he clears his throat, glancing away for a moment, his fingers absently picking at an invisible thread on his sleeve. “well,” he starts, voice a little quieter now, a little less teasing. “i just thought… i mean, you’re always so busy with everything—running around, making sure everything is perfect, taking care of things no one even notices..”

taehyun pauses, pressing his lips together as if debating whether to continue, but then he sighs and pushes forward, gaze flickering back to you.

“i guess i just wanted you to have a reason to enjoy it, too. with me.”

his words hung between you, soft yet unbearably heavy. and maybe it’s the way he says it, so matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing in the world—like it was obvious, like it was something he’s thought about before.

maybe that was what left you speechless.

your lips part before you could stop them, the words slipping past your tongue in a breath, barely louder than a whisper—fragile, uncertain, like a secret not meant to be spoken aloud.

"that’s it..?"

the moment they left your mouth, you realized your mistake. taehyun stilled.

it was subtle at first, just a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes, a split-second shift in his posture, the faintest tension in his shoulders. but then the silence swells, thick and suffocating, pressing against your lungs like a weight you couldn’t shake off. your own breath falters, hitching ever so slightly, and you swore you could hear the soft, sharp inhale taehyun took in response.

he didn’t expect that.

and neither did you.

and you didn’t know what was worse—the fact that you let it slip or the fact that taehyun seems so thrown off by it.

his fingers twitched at his sides, just the barest movement, but you noticed. you noticed the way his lips parted slightly, as if he had something to say, only to press them together again, hesitation flickering behind his sharp gaze.

then, finally—

"do you really want me to say it?"

taehyun’s voice was softer this time, lower, laced with something heavier, something cautious, yet impossibly steady. his gaze never wavers, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a sharp jolt down your spine.

you didn’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until the air rushes back into your lungs all at once, too fast, too sharp. because he was close again, too close, and the space between you felt thinner than paper, more fragile than glass.

and as if the moment wasn’t already dangerous enough, he leaned in. not much, just a fraction, just enough to make the air around you shift, just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, just enough that you panic.

you shifted back almost instantly, pressing yourself further against the stage as if it’ll somehow create more distance, more space, more room to breathe. but all it did was make your flustered state even more obvious, the warmth on your cheeks burning deeper, spreading to the tips of your ears.

taehyun notices.

his eyes flicker, his lips twitch, and for the briefest moment, he almost looks amused—like he caught onto something, like he learned something. but there was something else beneath it, something more hesitant, more careful, as if he was testing the waters, as if he was waiting for you to stop him.

"do you really want to know why i asked you?"taehyun’s voice was impossibly softer, if that was even possible, barely above a whisper, yet it crashes into you like a tidal wave. your stomach twists, your hands curling into the fabric of your coat, as if that might somehow ground you, as if that might keep you from spiraling any further into whatever this is.

the space between you grew smaller, inch by inch, breath by breath. it was agonizingly slow, deliberate in a way that made your pulse pound against your ribs, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. he wasn’t just leaning in, he was watching you—taking in every flicker of emotion that crossed your face, every shallow inhale, every unspoken thought that lingered in the air between you. you couldn’t do this.

the weight of his gaze, the closeness, the way his voice curled around the edges of something unspoken—it was too much. your breath was coming in short, uneven bursts now, your heartbeat hammering loudly in your ears, and you know, you know, if you stayed here any longer, if you let him get any closer, you were going to fall into something you wouldn't be able to climb back out of. so you move.

your legs pushed you up before you could think twice, a desperate attempt to escape the heavy pull of his presence. but you barely take a step before—

warm hands hold around your wrists. your world tilts.

not in the way it had earlier, when taehyun had sent his bike into motion and nearly launched you both into the afterlife, but in a way that felt heavier, deeper—like the very foundation of your understanding has cracked beneath your feet, sending you spiraling into something you weren’t prepared for.

because there, just above the place where his fingers wrap around your wrist, something was blooming.

not metaphorically, not in some abstract, romantic sense, but literally.

soft blue petals unfurled against your skin like a whisper, delicate yet impossibly real. a hydrangea, its blue hue rich and vibrant, appearing right where his touch lingered, as if drawn forth by the warmth of his hand against your bare wrist.

and before you could even comprehend it, before the weight of what’s happening can fully settle, you see it—

another one.

on his wrist.

a mirror to yours.

your breath stutters.

a sharp, unsteady inhale rushes through your lungs, but the air felt thick, too thick, like the moment itself was pressing down on you, sinking into your bones, refusing to be ignored. you couldn't move. couldn't breathe. couldn't  think. the world has shrunk down to this single, impossible reality, this moment suspended in time where nothing existed but this.

taehyun sucks in a breath.

his grip on you falters, just slightly, but it was enough. enough to tell you that he was feeling it too—the way the air has shifted, the way the ground no longer felt steady beneath your feet. and when you forced yourself to look at him, to really look at him, what you saw made your stomach twist.

he was frozen.

taehyun, who always had something to say, who teased and taunted and never hesitated to throw a playful jab, was speechless.

his eyes were wide, dark pupils blown with something unreadable, something teetering between disbelief and sheer, undiluted shock. his lips parted, then pressed together again, as if he was trying to find the right words but coming up completely empty.

he blinked once.

twice.

then, slowly, almost hesitantly, his gaze dropped back down—to where his hand still holds your wrist, then to where the hydrangea had bloomed against his skin.

the proof.

the impossible, undeniable proof.

you didn’t know how long you both stood there like that, suspended in the moment, locked in place by something you didn’t yet have the words for. the silence between you was deafening, thick and weighted, pulsing with something neither of you know how to name.

“what…” taehyun’s voice finally comes, but it was quiet. too quiet. fragile.

“what just—”

but he didn’t finish. didn’t have to. because the answer was right there, imprinted against your wrists, marking you both in a way that cannot be ignored. “you’re my soulmate?”you couldn’t speak.

you couldn’t reply.

you couldn't do anything.

the weight of reality crashes down on you with an intensity that made your head spin, your breath hitching painfully in your throat. the room suddenly felt much too small, the air thick and unsteady, pressing in from all sides as if the universe itself was forcing you to acknowledge the truth—the truth that had been lingering just beneath the surface for weeks, waiting, biding its time, until this exact moment. until now.

taehyun knows.

he finally knows.

and you didn’t know what was worse—the fact that you kept it from him, or the fact that deep down, a part of you had always known this moment would come. you had feared it, dreaded it, had told yourself over and over again that you were prepared for it, that you had built up enough walls to keep yourself safe when the inevitable finally arrived. but standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you realize you weren’t prepared at all. your body refused to move. your fingers, still curled slightly from where they had almost—almost—reached back for him, felt like they were frozen in place, caught between instinct and hesitation. the silence between you was so thick, so deafening, it drowned out every other sound in the room, leaving only the frantic pounding of your own heartbeat, a desperate, uneven rhythm that betrays every attempt at composure.

taehyun was just as still, just as caught in the moment as you were. his expression was unreadable, his lips parted slightly as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start. his gaze flickers down to his wrist, his breath visibly hitching when he takes in the intricate petals of the blue hydrangea, now settled against his skin like an unspoken truth that neither of you can deny. his fingers twitch once, twice, as though testing to see if the mark is real, as though part of him is still grappling with the weight of what this meant.

it was real.

it had always been real.

finally, after what felt like a lifetime, taehyun spoke.

“did you know?”

his voice was barely above a whisper, each syllable laced with a quiet, underlying emotion that you couldn’t quite place. there was no anger, no accusation, nothing sharp or cutting—only something softer, something careful, something almost hesitant. it was a question, but more than that, a plea, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between you, to make sense of the revelation that had just unraveled before him.

but still, you said nothing.

your throat was dry, your mouth refusing to form the words that sat heavy on your tongue. your breath came in shallow, uneven exhales, your fingers on your other hand curling into the fabric of your sleeve as if that alone might keep you from falling apart.

and that silence—your silence—was all he needed to know. taehyun exhales, the sound slow and measured, but you saw the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers pressed onto your skin before uncurling again, the way his entire posture shifted ever so slightly as realization settled deep into his bones. his face remained composed, but his eyes—his eyes that have always been so sharp, so piercing, so impossibly hard to fool—betrayed him entirely.

“why…” his voice faltered, catching slightly before he swallowed and tried again, this time more resolute, more certain. “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyun took a single step forward, slow, hesitant, and careful in a way that made your stomach twist with unease. it was as if he was afraid that any sudden movement would send you running, as if he was walking on fragile ground, unsure of what might shatter beneath him.

you felt your breath catch, the air between you growing heavier, charged with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“how long have you known?”

your hands trembled, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a force you couldn't  escape. you swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat, willing yourself to find your voice, to say something, anything.

“i…” the word barely made it past your lips before you had to clear your throat, forcing yourself to steady the shake in your voice. “since about… two weeks ago…”

taehyun breathed in sharply, his expression flickering with something you couldn’t figure out, something shifting, something unraveling. you watched as his gaze drops slightly, as though he was replaying every moment, every conversation, every fleeting glance from the past two weeks with a new understanding.

and then he laughs.

soft, breathless, light as air.

not in mockery, not in disbelief, not with amusement, but something else entirely.

relief.

taehyun’s shoulders eased, his posture relaxing just slightly as the realization settled deep within him. he lifted his free hand, pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes, before shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

“i knew it,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, as if the words had been lingering in the back of his mind all this time, just waiting to be spoken. “so this was why… why i’ve always felt this… pull towardss you… no matter how much you tried to push me away.”

his voice was filled with certainty, with something raw, something so achingly sincere that it makes your breath stutter in your chest.

because you know exactly what he meant.

that pull.

the way your eyes always found him in a crowded room, the way his voice had always cut through the noise, the way his laughter had always settled so easily in the spaces between you. the way his presence had always been something you could never quite shake, no matter how much you tried to ignore it and tell yourself that you hated it.

and now you both know why.

taehyun takes another step forward, closer this time, close enough that the warmth of his presence began to seep into your skin, making your pulse pound against your chest.

his hand lifts, his fingers brushing against your other one, just barely, just enough to send a spark of warmth racing up your arm. it was the softest touch, barely there, but it made your entire body go still.

he hesitated for only a moment before fully taking your hand in his.

you inhaled sharply.

his grip was firm but gentle, steady but careful, like he was afraid of pushing too far, like he was still waiting for you to pull away. his thumb brushes against the side of your palm, the warmth of his skin bleeding into yours, grounding you, anchoring you to the moment.

“you feel it too, right?”

your lips part, the answer right there, right at the tip of your tongue, so close you can taste it.

but then—

panic.

it surged through your veins like wildfire, swallowing you whole before you could stop it, before you could even try to fight against it. your chest tightened, breath shallow and uneven, and for a split second, the weight of taehyun’s touch—the warmth of his fingers wrapped gently around you—became unbearable. because if you admit it—if you said it aloud, if you give in, if you let yourself fall—there would be no turning back.

no running.

no pretending.

no more hiding behind the walls you spent so long building.

your fingers twitched, your entire body tensing as if preparing to flee even before your mind could catch up. taehyun’s presence was everywhere—his touch, his gaze, the quiet steadiness of his breath filling the space between you. it was overwhelming, suffocating in a way that had nothing to do with discomfort and everything to do with fear.

so you do the only thing you know how to do.

you yanked yourself away. the movement was so sudden, so desperate, that taehyun barely had time to react before you were stumbling back, ripping yourself from the warmth of his grasp as though it burnt. his hands slipped away from yours, the loss of contact immediate, startling, like stepping into the cold after being wrapped in the sun’s embrace. but the absence wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, something that lingered in the air between you like a wound torn open too soon.

taehyun didn’t move.

his brows furrowed, the lines of his face tightening, a flicker of confusion passing through his wide, searching eyes. his mouth parted slightly, as if he was about to say something—to ask, to reach, to hold—but you didn't give him the chance.

you didn’t even give yourself the chance to think.

you turned.

your breath hitches, your pulse roaring in your ears as your legs move on instinct, on impulse, on fear.

and then you ran.

you didn’t stop, didn’t look back, didn’t let yourself process the way your vision blurs at the edges or the way your heartbeat pounded against your chest, each thud a deafening reminder of what you’ve just done. your limbs felt weightless yet heavy all at once, like you were floating through a dream you desperately wished to wake up from. your hands tremble at your sides, curled into fists so tight that your nails bite into your palms, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself, to ground yourself against the storm raging inside you.

but there was no grounding yourself from this.

there was no outrunning the way your soul ached, the way something inside you screamed at you to stop, to turn back, to look at him just once, just for a second.

but you couldn’t.

not when his words still echoed in your mind, wrapping around your thoughts and pressing against your lungs. you feel it too, right?

not when the memory of his laughter still lingered, warm and full of relief, the sound of someone who had just found something they had spent their whole life searching for.

not when you know—when you know—that if you let yourself turn back now, you will never have the strength to leave again.

so you kept going. you push past the door, your movements frantic, your breath coming out in broken, uneven exhales as you slipped away, disappearing into the night like a shadow retreating from the light.

and taehyun?

taehyun just stood there.

his hands were still outstretched, fingers curled ever so slightly, as if still reaching for something—someone—who was no longer there. his expression was blank, his chest rising and falling with steady, measured breaths, but his eyes—his impossibly expressive eyes—were frozen in place, locked onto the spot where you stood only moments before.

and yet, despite the stillness, despite the quiet composure he had always carried so effortlessly, taehyun looked shattered. ꒰💐꒱ the night felt endless. you lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but sleep refused to come. the weight of your actions, of everything that had unfolded just hours ago, sat heavy on your chest, pressing down like an unbearable force. you tried to shut your eyes, tried to will yourself into oblivion, but every time you did, you saw him—saw the look on his face when he realized, saw the way eyes brightened like never before.

taehyun was happy. no, he was ecstatic.

you could still hear his laugh, that breathless, wondrous kind, like the world had just revealed its greatest secret to him. i knew it… he said, voice laced with something so soft, so full of relief, as if everything in his life had suddenly fallen into place. you had never seen him like that before—never seen kang taehyun, with all his sharp wit and unwavering confidence, look so utterly and completely at peace.

and then. and then you ripped it all away.

the moment your hands had left his, the moment your body turned, his joy had shattered. you had felt it, even with your back to him, even as you pushed past the door, as you fled like a coward. you had felt the shift in the air, the quiet devastation settling in behind you.

now, as you lay in the suffocating silence of your room, you wondered if taehyun was still standing there, staring at the empty space where you had been. wondered if he was replaying everything in his mind the way you were, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why—why—you ran.

you squeezed your eyes shut, but it didn’t help. the memory of his expression—the way his brows drew together, the way his mouth parted just slightly in stunned disbelief—burned behind your eyelids.

the ache in your chest only grew heavier, sinking deep into your bones like a weight you couldn’t shake off. it was unbearable—this gnawing, twisting feeling of guilt, regret, and something else, something even more terrifying.

because it wasn’t just taehyun’s expression that haunted you. it wasn’t just the way his joy crumbled into confusion, into hurt, into quiet devastation—it was the way he had reached for you, the way his fingers had brushed against yours so gently, so tentatively, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly. and in the end, you did.

you saw the light in his eyes, the unguarded, unfiltered joy written all over his face, and you destroyed it.

a strangled breath left your lips as you curled in on yourself, pressing your hands against your chest as if that could somehow hold everything in, as if that could stop your heart from unraveling at the seams. the past few weeks—every moment, every lingering glance, every teasing remark that had felt just a little too soft—they all came crashing down on you at once, suffocating in their intensity. and morning arrived too soon.

no matter how tightly you curled into yourself, no matter how desperately you tried to will the world away, time didn’t stop for you. it marched forward, indifferent to the storm that raged inside you throughout the night.

you didn’t sleep a wink—you simply drifted, slipped in and out of restless, fragmented dreams, only to jolt awake each time with his voice echoing in your head, with the memory of his warmth ghosting over your skin. you turned onto your side, onto your back, onto your stomach, but no position, no adjustment, no desperate attempt to push the thoughts away helped.

so when your alarm finally rang, shrill and unforgiving in the silence of your room, you had no choice but to face the day.

your limbs felt heavy as you dragged yourself out of bed, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. the mirror was unkind, reflecting back dark circles beneath your eyes, the dullness in your gaze, the exhaustion carved into every line of your face. you moved through the motions of getting ready on autopilot—washing up, dressing, gathering your things—but the entire time, your mind remained stuck on one single, inescapable fact.

you would see him today.

you would step into the council room, and taehyun would be there. and you had no idea what would be waiting for you on the other side of that door.

was he angry? hurt? indifferent? did he spend the night thinking about it, just as you did? had he regretted it?

or worse, did he realize that maybe, maybe this whole thing had been a mistake?

your thoughts clung to you as you made your way to school, each step feeling heavier than the last. the usual morning sounds—the chatter of students, the rustling of papers, the distant ringing of a bell—faded into background noise as you moved through the halls, your heart hammering with each step that brought you closer to the council room.

and then you stepped inside.

you barely had time to take in the familiar sight of scattered documents, opened planners, and the faint scent of coffee before your eyes landed on him.

taehyun.

and he… he looked hollow.

the sight nearly knocked the breath out of you.

gone was the sharp glint in his eyes, the ever-present amusement, the effortless ease he carried himself with. instead, his features were dull, tired—shoulders slumped, gaze distant as he stared down at the papers in front of him, pen loosely gripped in his hand.

the weight in your chest only grew heavier as you hesitantly stepped further into the room, the familiar scrape of the chair against the floor sounding much louder than it should have in the suffocating silence. you lowered yourself into your usual seat, forcing yourself to settle, to breathe, to act as if everything was fine.

but nothing was.

because taehyun didn’t even look at you.

not a glance. not a teasing remark. not even the usual exasperated sigh when you made a little too much noise pulling out your notes. nothing. he simply remained as he was, unmoving, his gaze still fixed on the papers before him as if they held the answers to something greater, something deeper, something that could explain why.

and the absence of his attention, of his presence, of him—stung far more than you ever anticipated.

you swallowed hard, fingers curling into your lap, nails pressing into your palms as you willed yourself to keep your expression neutral, to not let the weight of your own guilt show. but the silence stretched, pressing down on you like a vice, wrapping itself around your throat until you thought you might suffocate under it—

“what’s with you two?”

the voice cut through the tension like a blade, startling you from your spiraling thoughts.

beomgyu.

you turned your head just slightly, enough to see him watching the both of you with furrowed brows, arms crossed over his chest. his gaze flickered between you and taehyun, sharp, calculating, observant.

beside him, jiwon leaned back in his chair, one elbow propped on the table as he arched a brow. “yeah, seriously. it’s weird in here.” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, lips pulling into a frown. “you guys didn’t, like, mess up the decor together yesterday and made a pact of silence, right?”

you flinched.

taehyun didn’t even blink.

beomgyu’s frown deepened. “okay, what the hell. what is going on?”

you spoke—too forced, too strained. “nothing.”

“bullshit.”

jiwon scoffed, nudging beomgyu with his elbow. “look, man, maybe they’re just in a bad mood.”

beomgyu didn’t look convinced. but taehyun didn’t give him a chance to press further, because before beomgyu could open his mouth again, he quietly cleared his throat, finally shifting, finally moving—only to stand from his seat, pushing his chair back with slow, deliberate movements.

“i need some air,” taehyun muttered, and just like that, he walked out, and now it was your turn to be left dumbfounded and hurt.

the days leading up to the ball passed in a blur, but the weight in your chest remained the same. if anything, it only grew heavier, sinking deeper into your bones with each passing moment.

and throughout it all, taehyun didn’t speak to you. to anyone, rather.

he wasn’t gone, not physically—he was still here, still doing his work with the same meticulous precision, still showing up early, still staying late. but he was missing in a way that was impossible to ignore, and the weight of it pressed against you, suffocating and relentless.

and it wasn’t just you who noticed. at first, beomgyu had been the most vocal about it. he had tried everything—nudging taehyun’s shoulder playfully, cracking jokes that usually earned him an exaggerated eye-roll or a deadpan retort, even deliberately messing up the seating chart just to get a reaction. but nothing worked. taehyun barely reacted, only offering the occasional hum of acknowledgment or a clipped, indifferent response before returning to whatever task was in front of him.

he had always been diligent, always the type to follow through with his responsibilities, but this was no longer dedication, this was detachment.

"seriously, what is his problem?" beomgyu had muttered under his breath one afternoon, throwing his pen onto the table with a frustrated sigh. he turned towardss you then, his brows furrowed, gaze sharp. "he’s been acting like a ghost for days.”

your breath caught in your throat, fingers tightening instinctively around the clipboard in your lap.

jiwon, who had been watching the entire exchange with thinly veiled curiosity, shifted in his seat, drumming his fingers idly against the desk. "maybe he’s just tired,” he mused, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

beomgyu scoffed, shaking his head. "no. no, this isn’t tired—this is something else. he’s not just quiet, he’s—” beomgyu hesitated, frowning as he searched for the right word before finally settling on, “empty.”

and god, wasn’t that the truth?

taehyun had always been level-headed, composed, but never like this. never so distant. his sharp wit and effortless charm had dulled into something barely there, and the shift was so stark, so jarring, it left an undeniable hollowness in the air.

you wanted to say something, needed to say something. but what could you possibly say? that it was your fault? that you had seen the light in his eyes, the happiness that had appeared in his features when he first saw the flower on both your wrists, and how you crushed it beneath your own fear?

the weight of your own cowardice sat heavy on your shoulders, suffocating, unbearable. so you said nothing.

the ball was only days away. the decorations were finalized, the arrangements had been double-checked, and everything was falling into place, piece by perfect piece. and yet, for all that careful planning, for all the progress and preparation, everything still felt like it was falling apart. ꒰💐꒱ the night of the ball finally arrived.

golden lights illuminated the grand hall, casting a soft, ambient glow that seeped through the tall windows, flickering like distant stars against the darkness of the evening. inside, the sound of laughter and lively chatter drifted through the open doors, mingling with the faint melody of a waltz playing from within. everything was perfect—just as the council had planned, just as everyone had spent weeks ensuring.

but you simply stood outside.

your fingers curled around the delicate mask in your hands, the material pressing against your skin. the evening breeze brushed against your shoulders, carrying with it the distant hum of celebration, but you couldn't bring yourself to move forward, to step inside and immerse yourself in it all.

your dress, a simple yet breathtaking gown, clung to your frame in all the right places, accentuating without overwhelming, elegant without being extravagant. the fabric, a soft black satin that shimmered under the moonlight, cascaded down your figure in smooth waves, pooling ever so slightly at your feet. it was understated, refined, beautiful, and yet, despite how perfectly it fit, despite how much care had gone into choosing it, you had never felt more out of place.

you had spent days, weeks, preparing for this night. every detail had been planned, every decoration meticulously arranged. this was supposed to be a night of celebration, of triumph—a culmination of all the hard work the council had poured into making this event a reality.

but the thought of stepping inside, of weaving through the sea of masks and laughter, of pretending that everything was fine? it terrified you.

because you didn’t know how you would feel once you see him tonight. and perhaps, worse than that, you didn’t know if you even would.

your stomach twisted painfully, an ache that no amount of deep breaths could ease. would taehyun even be here? had he decided to stay away, just as you had considered doing? or would he be inside, blending into the crowd, masked and distant, just another face in a room full of strangers?

or would he be there, looking the same as always, standing in a corner with that quiet confidence, that knowing gaze, that presence that you could never quite shake, no matter how much distance you tried to put between you?

your heart pounded at the thought.

you had spent the past week avoiding his eyes, ducking away from his presence, watching helplessly as he withdrew further and further into himself. and yet, even as he distanced himself, even as the banter faded and the stolen glances disappeared, he never confronted you. never pushed, never asked for an explanation.

but tonight, there would be no desks between you, no schedules to hide behind.

if taehyun was here—if he sees you—then there would be no more avoiding it.

the weight of that realization sat heavy in your chest, pressing down, making it harder and harder to breathe.

you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to take a single step forward.

but your legs felt rooted in place, your body paralyzed by the what-ifs, by the uncertainty, by the unbearable truth that no matter how much you wanted to run, no matter how much you wanted to hide, you wanted to see him. god, you wanted to see him.

but did he still want to see you? taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, gripping the delicate mask in your hands one final time before slipping it over your face. the satin ribbon tied keeping it in place felt tighter than necessary, as if it was binding you in place, but you refused to let yourself hesitate any longer.

with slow, deliberate steps, you moved forward, the soft fabric of your gown brushing against your ankles as you entered the venue. the moment you crossed the threshold, you were met with a breathtaking sight—warm golden light spilling from crystal chandeliers, illuminating a sea of elegantly dressed students, their gowns and suits shimmering beneath the glow.

a small smile ghosted over your lips, a rare moment of relief settling in your chest. this was it. after weeks of planning, after endless discussions and meticulous arrangements, the masquerade ball came to life. and seeing it unfold, watching as your peers twirled across the floor, their laughter ringing through the air, made all of the exhaustion worth it. it was beautiful.

as you weaved through the crowd, exchanging polite nods and returning greetings, a sudden poke at your shoulder made you pause. blinking, you turned on your heel, only to be met with a grinning masked beomgyu, standing beside someone whose presence, even behind an intricately designed mask, was unmistakable—soobin. their hands were intertwined, fingers loosely laced together, a silent testament to their bond.

“there you are!” beomgyu beamed, his enthusiasm practically radiating off him as he gestured wildly around the venue. “you have to admit, this is pretty amazing.”

soobin, ever the calmer presence, chuckled softly before dipping his head slightly in greeting. “congratulations,” he said, his voice smooth and sincere. “everything turned out beautifully. thank you for all the effort you put into making this happen.”

before you could even respond, beomgyu huffed, dramatically tossing an arm over soobin’s shoulder. “my idea, by the way,” he interjected, puffing out his chest in pride.

soobin, despite his mask obscuring half of his face, still managed to exude exasperation as he shot beomgyu a tired look. “i know, beomgyu. you’ve told me like a billion times.”

a quiet laugh left your lips as you shook your head, momentarily allowing yourself to bask in their familiar bickering. there was something comforting about it, something steady and unchanging. but just as quickly as that warmth settled, it vanished, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. because watching them—watching the ease in their dynamic, the way they played off each other so effortlessly—it only reminded you of one person.

your breath hitched, the tightening in your chest returning with full force. you forced a smile, pushing down the lump forming in your throat. “i should, um, check on the food,” you murmured, the words slipping from your lips before you could second-guess them.

soobin gave you a small nod, and beomgyu, thankfully, didn’t press further, only giving you a playful salute as you stepped away. with each step, your heart felt heavier, your resolve beginning to crumble once again.

you barely registered the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses around you. all you could focus on was the overwhelming weight pressing against your ribs, the relentless pounding of your own thoughts. you shouldn't have come.

but then—

but then you saw him.

it was almost cruel how effortlessly your eyes found him, how no amount of dim lighting or the sea of masks could ever make him anything less than noticeable.

taehyun stood near the far side of the ballroom, a vision of effortless poise and sophistication. his suit was a deep shade of charcoal, tailored perfectly to his frame, accentuating the sharp lines of his shoulders and the lean definition of his form. the crisp white of his dress shirt contrasted against the dark fabric, and the black tie on his collar was neatly knotted, adding to the refined elegance of his appearance. but it was his presence—the sheer gravity of him—that made your breath catch.

his mask, sleek and simple, framed his eyes in a way that only enhanced their depth, making them appear even more calculating. the dim lighting cast delicate shadows over his features, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips—lips that had once smiled so easily, so playfully, but now remained pressed into a thin, unreadable line.

you stopped in your tracks. you watched taehyun, unable to look away, unable to tear your gaze from the way he stood—poised yet distant, present yet entirely unreachable. the ballroom carried on around you, the music swelling, distant conversations rippling through the air, but it all faded into nothing as your eyes remained fixed on him.

his posture was impeccable, as always, shoulders squared, chin lifted ever so slightly, an image of effortless control. but there was something different now, something restrained in the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, in the way his weight shifted subtly from one foot to the other, as if he were caught between the instinct to move and the need to stay still.

and then, as if he could feel your gaze, as if some invisible thread had finally pulled tight between the two of you—

his eyes found yours.

and the moment they did, something in the air shifted, as if the world seemed to narrow, the sounds around you dulling into nothing more than a distant hum.

taehyun’s stare widened just slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise betraying his otherwise composed expression. and god, was he taking you in.

taehyun was looking at you—truly looking at you. not like the stolen glances from before, not with the distance he carefully put between you these past few days. this was different. this was open, raw, something achingly vulnerable slipping through the cracks of his carefully built composure.

and the way he looked at you…

it was as if he had never seen you before.

as if he were discovering something entirely new, something he hadn’t realized until this very second. his gaze traced over you, taking in every detail, every curve of your form, every shimmering fold of your gown. his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching just the tiniest bit, and even with the mask covering half his face, even with the dim lighting softening his features, you could see it—the quiet, unspoken admiration that flickered across his face.

your heartbeat roared in your ears, your body frozen in place, unable to move, unable to breathe. neither of you stepped forward, neither of you dared to break the fragile silence that had settled between you, balancing on the edge of something terrifyingly real.

and then—

he blinked.

just once.

but when his eyes opened again, something was different. something had shifted.

taehyun’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. his hands twitched at his sides, his fingers curling inward like they ached to reach for something—for someone. you watched as a breath, deep and shaky, left his lips, his shoulders rising with the weight of it.

and then he turned away.

the moment shattered.

the spell broke.

before you could process it, before you could make sense of the way your chest constricted so violently at the loss, taehyun pivoted on his heel, his movements sharp, hurried. his polished shoes barely made a sound against the ballroom floor as he slipped past the sea of guests, weaving through the crowd with quick, purposeful steps.

he was leaving.your heart lurched, panic flaring in your veins, the shock of it slamming into your chest like a physical blow.

no.

your breath caught in your throat, the realization settling in all at once. he was running away.

and before you could stop yourself, before the fear could paralyze you, before you could make the same mistake twice—

you ran after him.

you pushed through the crowd, rushing between the clusters of students lost in conversation, their voices nothing but a muffled blur against the frantic pounding of your heartbeat. your pulse roared in your ears, your breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as you dodged flurries of students and pressed forward, not caring if you stumbled, not caring if you brushed too roughly against someone.

taehyun was running, and you couldn’t let him get away. not again.

your fingers clenched at the fabric of your dress, lifting the hem just enough to keep yourself from tripping, but your feet barely felt the ground beneath you. all that mattered was him. all that mattered was the sight of his retreating figure, slipping past the grand archway leading to the open night air, disappearing beyond the cascading ivy that framed the ballroom’s second entrance.

the cool night hit you like a breath of fresh air the moment you broke free from the suffocating warmth of the ballroom. the murmurs of the crowd dulled, replaced by the soft rustle of the wind through the trees, the distant hum of music fading behind you. but none of it registered, not the chill against your bare skin, not the way your lungs burned from exertion, because taehyun was still ahead, his silhouette cutting through the garden’s moonlit paths.

the silvery glow of the moon bathed everything in an ethereal light, casting long shadows along the pathway, painting the world in hushed shades of blue and silver. the neatly trimmed hedges and delicate blooms swayed gently with the breeze, their fragrance lingering in the crisp air.

your steps faltered as you sucked in a breath, throat dry, chest tight—but you couldn’t stop now. not when he was slipping away again.

so you did the only thing you could.

"kang taehyun!!"

your voice cut through the quiet, sharp and desperate, carrying through the still night air.

and just like that, he finally stopped. taehyun’s steps slowed, hesitating, before finally coming to a full halt. your fingers curled into the fabric of your gown, gripping tightly, as if grounding yourself, as if holding on to the last bit of courage you had left. you didn’t trust your voice—not when your heart was still hammering like crazy, not when the ache in your throat made it impossible to swallow. but still, you forced the words out, soft, almost fragile in the way they broke past your lips.

"please..."

the sound barely carried over the distance between you, but it reached him somehow. you knew it did.

but taehyun remained unmoving.

his back stayed rigid, his shoulders taut, rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. he didn’t turn, didn’t even so much as flinch, as if he was willing himself to stay still, as if he was caught in the same unbearable moment as you, yet refused to acknowledge it.

the silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating, heavy with the weight of all the words neither of you had spoken. it clung to the air, to the space that felt impossibly vast despite the few feet separating you.

and then, after what felt like an eternity—so slow it nearly made you dizzy—he turned around.

taehyun’s body tensed before he shifted, hesitant, deliberate, as if caught in a decision he hadn’t quite made yet. the motion was almost careful, painfully slow, as though he feared what he would see when he finally turned to face you.

taehyun’s gaze met yours instantly, locking onto you with an intensity that stole the breath straight from your lungs. the silver glow of the moon framed his silhouette, casting soft shadows over his face, over the smooth planes of his mask.

and his eyes… they held something unreadable. something you couldn’t name, something tangled between a dozen emotions, flickering too fast, too fleeting for you to grasp.

but he was looking at you.

yet for the first time, you didn’t know if that was a good thing.

taehyun’s gaze never wavered, never softened, not even for a second. it was sharp, cutting through the space between you like a blade, dissecting, waiting. and you, standing beneath the weight of it all, feeling it press into your skin, into the marrow of your bones, suddenly felt small. exposed. self-conscious.

your throat tightened, the sudden awareness of yourself creeping in, making you shift where you stood. your shoulders straightened, your hands fidgeting at your sides, as if fixing your posture would somehow anchor you, would somehow make you feel like you belonged in this moment instead of drowning in it. your tongue darted out, wetting your dry lips, yet the words—whatever words you were meant to say—refused to come.

it was silent. painfully, deafeningly silent.

now that he was here, standing before you, now that you finally had him where you had been desperate to keep him—you didn’t know what to do. what to say.

"if you're not going to say anything, then i'm leaving."

taehyun’s voice cut through the stillness, low and cold, distant in a way that sent a sharp pang straight to your chest. it was piercing, impassive—so unlike him. where was the warmth? the teasing edge? where was the taehyun who never let a moment pass without a quip, a smirk, a knowing look? where was the taehyun who once made the air between you feel light, easy? the thought hit you so hard that it sent you stumbling forward, hands moving on instinct, reaching—desperate. and before you could stop yourself, before hesitation could creep in and steal this moment away from you, your fingers closed around his wrist.

a sight too familiar.

but this time, you weren’t the one running.

this time, you were the one trying to stop him.

"wait," the word barely came out, breathless, trembling. you let go of taehyun’s wrist, and then—then, the floodgates broke. "taehyun…"

his name wobbled on your lips, barely a breath, barely a sound, but it held every ounce of desperation clawing at your chest, every ounce of regret that weighed heavy on your shoulders. your throat tightened, a lump lodging itself deep within, suffocating, unrelenting, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. because if you didn’t speak now—if you let this moment slip through your fingers like sand—you knew you’d never forgive yourself.

"i’m sorry."

the words trembled, cracked, barely held together by the fragile threads of your unraveling composure. and yet, they still weren’t enough. nothing felt like enough—not for all the pain you had caused him, not for all the hurt you had left in your wake, not for the way you had looked into his eyes that night and still walked away.

"i’m so sorry, taehyun."

his name shattered from your lips this time, breaking somewhere between a sob and a plea.

"i was stupid. i was so, so stupid."

you inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists, nails biting into your palms in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from completely falling apart. but it was no use. everything was spilling over—emotions too big, too raw, too heavy to be contained anymore. "i didn’t mean to push you away. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i never wanted to hurt you." your voice wavered, cracking under the weight of your own words, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a fleeting second, trying yet failing to steady yourself. "but i did."

you exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even as your own blurred with unshed tears. "i hurt you, and i was too much of a coward to admit anything." your fingers twitched at your sides, aching to reach for him, aching to grasp onto something—anything—that could ground you in the midst of the storm raging inside you. "i was scared," you whispered, voice barely above a breath, the admission tasting bitter, like guilt and shame and every unsaid thing you had buried deep inside yourself for far too long.

"i was scared because i didn’t understand it," a hollow laugh escaped you, but there was no humor in it. only pain. "because i didn’t understand you." you exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if that could erase all the years of denial, all the wasted time, all the moments you had spent pretending. "from the very start, taehyun, you made me feel things i had never felt before—things i didn’t know how to name, things that made my heart race and my hands shake and my mind spin and i—" your breath hitched, a sob catching in your throat, but you pushed through it, voice trembling. "i hated you for it. or at least... i thought i did."

you felt him stiffen, barely perceptible, but you noticed it. of course, you noticed it. your lips quivered, your hands clenched, and you forced yourself to take a step forward, closing even the slightest bit of distance between you. "but it wasn’t hate, was it? it never was," you whispered, voice softer now, gentler, but heavy with the weight of every unspoken word you had swallowed down over the years, every moment you had ignored, every glance you had forced yourself to look away from.

"it was fear."

you sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly against the tears threatening to spill over. "you saw through me. you knew me—really knew me—even when i didn’t want you to," another step, another shaky breath. "and i hated that. i hated that no matter how much i tried to convince myself you were nothing more than a rival, a nuisance, an annoying presence in my life, i—" you exhaled sharply, voice breaking, barely holding yourself together, "i was wrong."

you were right in front of him now, so close, yet still, he hadn’t moved. he just stood there, staring at you, silent, unreadable, unflinching.

"i was wrong about everything," your voice wavered, barely above a whisper now, but the words carried the weight of everything—of every mistake, every regret. your fingers twitched at your sides before, finally, finally, you found the courage to reach out, grasping his wrists once more with trembling hands.

"i never should've left that night," you choked out, shaking your head, tears clinging to your lashes. "i should’ve turned back, should’ve looked at you, should’ve realized what was right in front of me." a single tear slipped down your cheek, warm against your skin, but you didn’t wipe it away. "i should’ve told you then," you hesitated, voice cracking, "i should’ve told you that it was always you."

the words shattered from your lips like glass, like something irreparable, something fragile and delicate and painfully, unbearably sincere. "it was always you, taehyun." your voice trembled, thick with emotion, thick with everything you had locked away for so long, and yet, for the first time, you weren’t afraid to say it. "and i’m so, so sorry it took me this long to see it." you sniffled, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart, a weight lifting off your shoulders with every word that had finally, finally escaped your lips. yet, despite the relief that came with your admission, fear still gripped you, sinking its claws into your chest, twisting deep. because this—this was the part that terrified you the most. not the confession, not the rawness of your emotions spilling over, but his response. what he might say. how he might look at you now. how he might—

taehyun moved.

and for a split second, panic seized you as he pulled away from your grasp, slipping from your trembling hands. your breath hitched, your body tensed, and your mind raced with the worst possibilities, already bracing for the moment he’d turn his back on you. already dreading the sharp sting of rejection. but he didn’t leave. he didn’t take a step back, didn’t let the silence stretch too long, didn’t let the space between you grow. instead, taehyun lifted his hands, reaching for you, cupping your tear-streaked cheeks in the warmth of his palms, grounding you in the way only he ever could.

your lips parted, a sharp breath escaping as his thumbs brushed over your damp skin, gentle, deliberate, erasing the remnants of your sorrow with the softest touch. your eyes widened, searching his face, drinking in the features you had spent so long memorizing yet never truly allowing yourself to admire.

and then, without a word, taehyun reached for the ribbon of your mask, fingers curling around the delicate material before he carefully, slowly, undid the knot and lifted it away.

your breath caught, the cool night air brushing against your now-exposed skin, and before you could react, he let the mask slip from his fingers, the sound of it hitting the ground barely registering in your ears.

but taehyun wasn’t done.

with the same tenderness, the same certainty, he lifted one hand to his own mask, unfastening it, letting it fall to the earth beside yours. and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. not the small, hesitant smiles you had seen him give in passing, not the careful, guarded ones he wore when he was unsure, not the polite ones he had offered in fleeting moments. no. this was real. genuine. a smile that stretched across his face, lighting up his features, reaching his eyes in a way you had forgotten was possible.

"that’s it?"

his voice was warm, teasing, laced with something light and playful—something unmistakably him.

and the moment you heard it, the moment you saw that expression on his face, it was as if every last bit of fear, every last trace of doubt, melted away.

a breath of laughter left you, a mix of relief and disbelief, and before you could even think, before you could hesitate, before you could convince yourself otherwise, you surged forward—hands finding his face, fingers threading into his hair as you pulled him in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was everything.

the moment your lips crashed against his, it was as if something had burst open—years of pent-up emotions, unsaid words, restless nights, stolen glances, all unraveling in a single heartbeat. and taehyun kissed you back like he, too, had been waiting for this his entire life.

his hands, still cradling your face, tightened their grip, fingers digging into your skin as if he was terrified you might slip away again. but you weren’t going anywhere. not anymore. your hands slid up to his jaw, trembling, desperate, pulling him impossibly closer. the sheer warmth of him, the way he exhaled shakily against your lips—it was dizzying. intoxicating. you were drowning, and you never wanted to come up for air.

the kiss was frantic, a collision of breaths, sighs, and need. his lips moved against yours like he had something to prove, something to make up for, something he couldn’t put into words—but you understood. you understood in the way his hands fell from your face to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress, gripping like he needed something to hold on to, something to anchor him. you understood in the way he let out a shuddering breath when you tugged at his hair, when your fingers slipped into the strands, when your body pressed flush against his.

a sharp exhale left taehyun, something like a laugh, something breathless and wrecked, and then he was kissing you harder, deeper, like he wanted to consume you, like he wanted to make up for every second lost, every moment wasted. and you let him. you let him steal your breath, let him take everything you had to give, because god, you had been starving for this. for him.

his fingers traced up your spine, slow, deliberate, and you shivered at the feeling. it was overwhelming—the heat of him, the taste of him, the way he kissed you like he was afraid you would vanish if he stopped. your back hit the edge of the stone fountain behind you, but neither of you cared, too caught up in the way your mouths moved together, in the sheer desperation between you.

when you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, gasping for air, taehyun’s grip on you never loosened. his fingers stayed at your waist, his breath fanning over your lips, and when you opened your eyes, his gaze was already on you—dark, burning, fond. taehyun exhaled, a quiet, breathy sound that mingled with the space between you, and when he smiled—soft, real, yours—you felt something in you finally settle.

"so... you like me." he murmured, his fingers curling just a little tighter at your waist, as if he still didn’t quite trust that you were here, that this was real.

you blinked, still dazed, still trying to catch up to everything—everything you had just spilled, everything that had just happened, everything you had just done.

"kang."

"no, no, say it." taehyun grinned, the teasing lilt returning to his voice, but there was something softer beneath it, something almost in awe. "i need to hear you say it."

heat crept up your neck, the weight of his hands still lingering on your skin, his touch burned into your memory. "i just confessed my entire soul to you, what more do you want?"

"just three little words." his voice dropped slightly, his fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up ever so slightly. "for confirmation."

you groaned, tilting your head back, but the fondness in taehyun’s eyes, the warmth in his touch, the way he was looking at you like you were all he needed, it was unfair.

"i like you, taehyun." the words left you in a sigh, as if they had been waiting to escape all along.

"yeah?"

you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed your feigned annoyance. "yeah."

taehyun hummed, looking entirely too pleased with himself before he leaned in again, murmuring against your lips, "about time." “i like you too.”

꒰🧸꒱ @pagelets @hoefororeo @sbnslver @missychief1404 @brrytears @saejinniestar @imlonelydontsendhelp @urlocal-moa @melmochii @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @usuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta @bamgeutori @xylatox @hyunj00 <3

this is 1/5 from a valentine’s event with other talented and incredible moas! click here to see the full masterlist <3

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

RiAAU Sasha's complicated relationship with her adoptive parents, Percy and Braddock, stems from an awkward mixture of unconditional love, resentment over their inability to protect her from Grime in her childhood, and their fear of what she's become.

[wonder-worker]

"The newly widowed Elizabeth (Woodville) was exceptionally vulnerable. Several of the trustees responsible for her jointure refused to hand over the manors that were meant to sustain her in her widowhood. Moreover, her brother-in-law, Edward Grey, had seized estates that her son Thomas should have inherited from his paternal grandfather, while her mother-in-law’s new young husband, Sir John Bourchier, had prevailed on Lady Ferrers to settle her principal properties on them jointly for life, ensuring that Thomas would have to wait far longer for this inheritance too. Rivers and Scales were pardoned in July 1461 and swiftly moved into the Yorkist establishment, which perhaps explains the success of the chancery suits Elizabeth launched to regain her jointure. Her son’s inheritance proved harder to recover. By 1463, Rivers was often in (Edward IV's) company and on his council, but Elizabeth needed someone with much stronger influence over the King. She turned to a distant kinsman, William, Lord Hastings, the King’s chamberlain. Hastings drove a very hard bargain for his aid but it was probably amid these negotiations that the King’s desire for Elizabeth was kindled."

-J.L. Laynesmith, "Elizabeth Woodville: the Knight's Widow", Later Plantagenet and Wars of the Roses Consorts: Power, Influence, and Dynasty

[royaibrainrot]

Writing early post Ishval Royai is hard because in my mind that period of time is very awkward and non romantic. The issue is with writing dialogue: because the usual way these two interact is a lot of dry banter and flirting, (which they would still do to break the tension) buuut I don’t want them to be too casual, or comfortable, or quite frankly too into each other at this point in time, ya know?

Little detour talking about more character study-ish stuff:

This post Ishval period is so interesting. Because Roy and Riza are both at an extreme low in their lives, and in their relationship with each other, but the back burning stuff forces them to be very vulnerable and intimate with each other right in the middle of it.

As far as Riza goes, she’s very angry and hurt because of how Roy betrayed her with the use of her father’s research. She probably hates him a little in spite of herself. But also, there’s a part of her that still loves him and looks up to him. And with the death of her father, it probably feels like he’s all she has left.

And then Roy, as we know, is overcome by guilt and shame for what he did in Ishval, particularly where it concerns Riza. But instead of being able to go hide from his problems, he has to face them head on when Riza asks him to burn her back. There’s no way he can deny her because he sort of ruined her life (at least in his mind) and owes it to her to fulfill whatever she asks of him.

So there you have it, they kind of want nothing to do with each other atm, but also are desperate to rely on and care for each other. Everything about their past is so interwoven and connected that it always takes them back to each other, no matter how much it hurts.

Truly insane. And this is why I love Arakawa’s storytelling so much.

[thenaphantoms]

Today is Valentine's Day, but it also marks one year since Miraculous Ladybug re-entered my life!

I discovered the show a bit before the English dub released back in 2015, watching it mainly in Korean with subtitles. It was so exciting seeing more and more people talk about this obscure little french cartoon once the dub came out!

But with increasing popularity came...other things. Art theft, harassment, young kids not really understanding how to behave in fandom spaces, and then Astruc himself replied sarcastically to a comment I'd made under one of his tweets (though in retrospect what he said was actually pretty funny). Then I had to end a really big friendship with someone I'd met because of the show, and I found myself in a weird position. Keep watching the show I loved, even though doing so made me uncomfortable due to those negative associations, or drop it entirely?

So I dropped it entirely. I put all the dolls and action figures somewhere I wouldn't be able to see them. Started a new account where I could engage with other fandoms. I stopped writing and reading Miraculous fanfic, stopped making Miraculous fanart, and forced myself to fixate on other things.

Years passed, and eventually, the thought of the show stopped making me feel so uncomfortable. I still couldn't bring myself to watch it, but I started a rewrite project, trying to fix the things I remembered not enjoying about the first two seasons of the show (which was all I'd seen at the time). I bought a couple of the new Miraculous dolls, super jealous that Kids These Days are getting so much better merch than I had when I was a fan of the show. Got some of the kwami blind bag kwami figures too, and I developed a habit of keeping one with me in my bag when I went to work.

That rewrite project never went very far, since I was hoping to do my own take on the episodes, and most of the episodes had become a distant memory by that point. In fairness, it had been like 6 years. I'd have to rewatch the show, and I still wasn't ready for that.

Then, on this day last year, something happened. I was staying at my parents house after an especially stressful work week, and I was browsing Netflix. And what would be on the front page, but Miraculous Ladybug: The Movie.

I had vivid memories of binging the show on Valentine's Day as a kid. I used to really associate the day with Marinette and Adrien, so Valentine's Day felt a bit like a nice opportunity to appreciate a ship that made me so happy.

So I watched the movie, justifying to myself that it wasn't like I was watching the show, it was just one movie and it would probably suck anyway.

But it didn't suck. It very much didn't suck. In fact, I LOVED it. It brought back so many memories, the love square was so sweet, the kwamis were such a cool idea, Hawkmoth was so fun, the akumas were so creative, Marinette and Adrien were so cute! It reminded of all the things I used to legitimately love about the show, rather than the stuff I didn't. When I was watching the movie, I wasn't thinking about that friendship that ended, or the art that got stolen. I was thinking about these kids, how much I loved them, and how much I loved their story. And I realised something that, in retrospect, should have been obvious.

It wasn't the SHOW that made me uncomfortable. It was my negative associations related to it. The show did nothing wrong, it was always fun and always made me happy. It was my bad experiences themselves that tainted it.

So I thought it over, and decided to continue the show from where I left off, even if the thought of doing so made me feel kind of sick and uncomfortable.

And I liked it. No, I didn't just like it-- I LOVED it. It was so fun?? And interesting??? And--wait oh my god is that PLOT?! Wait wait wait Marinette is overwhelmed???? I've felt like that!!! And--oh!!! Who is this Félix guy?? He's a reference to the pilot!! And he's so fun!! And Kagami? I remembered her being a boyfriend stealer but she's actually not at all and she's actually really sweet??? And Alya!!! Ride or die bestie Alya!!!

Needless to say, I couldn't stop watching after that. I binged seasons 3 and 4 in the span of I think two days, then immediately moved on to season 5, and I had a wonderful time. I was also a lot happier in general. It felt like I'd regained a part of myself that I'd lost, or rather, willingly left behind.

I know there's a lot of discourse online about whether or not the show is good, about if its even worth watching, but to me, that stuff sincerely doesn't matter. Miraculous Ladybug makes me very happy, which is why you'll never see me engage in Miraculous Ladybug salt discussions. I can critique it sometimes, but I've spent enough time looking down on this show. I'd rather love it for what it is and appreciate the joy it's always brought me.

So yes, today isn't just Valentine's Day. It's the anniversary of the day Miraculous Ladybug came back into my life, and the day I regained a piece of myself I'd long forgotten.

I loved the movie so much, I started binging Miraculous Ladybug for the first time in a long time, and I'm having a blast, so I wanted to draw something! It's actually based on a piece I drew in 2016 and then redrew in 2017. I think I've come a long way as an artist, and I'm so proud of the improvement!

Bug out!🐞

[orcelito]

This morning, my therapist called me to let me know she's setting up her own practice via telehealth (which is what we were using Anyways) & asked me whether I'd want to follow her there. She still has to set stuff up with insurance stuff But her out of pocket stuff is like HALF what I've been paying out of pocket for the company she was in. So I was like, Hell Yeah let's do it

So im gonna keep up with appointments, maybe once a month or so, just so I have the accountability + the ability to ramble about what I've achieved. Bc that's been rly nice for me. I'll have my therapist back!!!! And better than ever, if only because I have to pay so much less for it 😂😂😂

And ALSO, today I put in my course request for the orchestra into the form. So different from just two weeks ago, where I was practically begging to be given a chance to audition. I was sitting in the same spot of the lobby even, but putting in my official orchestra request instead of sending an email as I vibrated in hope and anxiety. I Got It tho. And the class won't even be that late in the day. It's really exciting.

[bluesidedown]

.

[binnie]

you guys.... i'm going down a spiral and I need advice

[hjemne]

I've been... Absolutely normal? After this breakup with the person that I really genuinely wanted to spend my life with.

It happened Friday night, I cried most of the night and a little on Saturday but then something just shifted and I've been like 99% fine and normally and happy since then? The only time the sadness has really hit me since has been thinking about how upset my (dying) grandma will be that she won't be able to know my partner. But otherwise? I got horrendously drunk on Saturday night, had tons of fun and was fine with a guy low-key flirting with me. Since I got thru the handover and sleepiness on Sunday I've been utterly normal, getting on with work, reading romance and enjoying it rather than being sad or jealous etc. The main stressor has been the number of deadlines I've had this week and trying to manage my parents' reaction and reassure them I'm fine.

It's not that I'm complaining I've not been truly and utterly crushed by the heartbreak, but I'm just weirded out by this reaction. I'm worried I'm bottling it all up and it'll explode later or that this is me sliding back into depression, but I'm still enjoying things and it doesn't feel like depression? Like have I actually reached that level of emotional maturity that I've dealt with everything (or most things) already?

He decided about a week ago that he didn't want to go through his early twenties having to factor someone else into his life plans. I understand it, I respect his decision, acknowledge that there's no use in trying to talk him out of it, appreciate the fact he told me as soon as he could in person so we ended the relationship still loving each other rather than growing apart and resentment building. I really can't stress how I've never loved or been loved by anyone like with him before and that he has been the most important person in my life for four years. Accepting that the life we were planning together has gone has seemed to happen so easily and it feels like something must therefore be wrong. It's helped that we haven't seen each other in person and haven't currently got plans to I guess because I think it's going to really hit when I can't be physically affectionate like before. But even with the distance I still just can't understand why I'm feeling so nothing about this. He brought up that he might want to break up in March and I cried far more than this. Have I been emotionally checked out of the relationship since then without realising? Am I just bottling stuff up without realising? I just wish I knew

[arolesbianism]

So I know I said no stalien relationship charts tonight but I never said no dynamics infodumping tonight so erm

Behold. The basic dynamic characters and what very broadly they represent. Some additional notes under the cut 👍

So! To clarify some things, it’s important to note that while all of these can be used as their own independent word, they’re rarely used as such to describe a relationship unless you Really don’t want the person you’re speaking with to know more details, or you are like talking to your boss or smth and are trying to be professional. Even in these situations however, a few of these words are seen as a bit weird, although not unheard of, to describe a relationship with by their own. For example, the clash one is usually seen as more of a modifier to surrounding dynamics, with passion being a similar case. Also important to note that the ones for liking or disliking someone is used pretty conservatively generally speaking, with them mostly used for situations where one is particularly giddy or particular upset to be around someone very consistently. No one can like stop you from using either more liberally, but you’ll probably come off super strong if you do, which tends to turn people off. On the other hand, feel free to use deep or distant very liberally, even combined, as they tend to be the much more general and vague dynamic pieces, and mostly just are used as approximations for how much space the other occupies in ones head.

Now, for this next part, let’s use an actual example on how these pieces are put together and how you describe your dynamics with others in different situations

This is Busy and Dancer’s dynamic, with them having the fairly standard 3 ring dynamic that most good friends will have. More or less rings can be had, but more than 3 is very uncommon, mostly due to most digital spaces and jewelers not supporting more than 3 rings. Generally speaking, the center represents the most boiled down component of the relationship, and this will be the word you use if you are being super duper vague about your dynamic with someone. For these two it’s the pretty standard deep, as they are very close and spend most of their time together. The surface layer usually covers the way you’d describe your relationship to others offhand, so either a simplified version or an altered version that leaves out parts that might be too personal for you to want to share. You may also chose to include things you don’t fully see as part of your dynamic, but think are applicable enough that it’s worth note, such as the like segment that these two have. You also typically will divvy up the space on the ring according to the impression you’re trying to make, which for these two is that they have a very close relationship, and that when they do butt heads it’s affectionately.

The second ring tends to be where things get more complicated, as they’re generally meant to represent the “true” relationship of the individuals involved, and as such how that relationship is conveyed varies wildly from individual to individual. These two have taken a much more simple approach, taking what they see as the consistent cores of their dynamic and not bothering with any extra segmenting. Extra segmenting within one dynamic piece is a common practice used in second rings, usually to emphasize a piece, or to draw attention away from other pieces. Busy and Dancer don’t see much need to place extra emphasis, so they simply use the method of scaling them by relevance. With deep again being their most important piece to them, with clash and passion being the other two bits of consistency they settled on. So for their second ring dynamic, they are basically communicating a close relationship where they sometimes fight, but would still stick with eachother to the end.

Now the last important thing to note is that while it’s commonly expected that people who are particularly close decide on one dynamic circle that encompasses both of their feelings, this is not the norm for most dynamics, and most won’t even communicate their dynamic with the other at all until a second ring is established. Having a second ring with someone basically establishes that they regularly have had a noteworthy impact on your life, and that your relationship is complicated enough that you feel that you two do have a properly established dynamic. It’s generally seen as very important to be able to clearly communicate your dynamics with others that you interact with regularly, and while it’s not uncommon for people to stretch the truth or even flat out lie in their dynamics, it’s still seen as more socially normal than only using one or two descriptors for your dynamics. Most staliens from this society would find the word “friend” to be a frustratingly vague description of someone’s relationship with another person, even if their own words for describing relationships also tends to get kind of vague and interpretive lol.

[readwritealldayallnight]

You had never seen him look so utterly human before

Laid up amongst the scratchy, thin sheets of the hospital bed, with only a plain surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face, everything else above Ghost’s shoulders exposed to your eyes for the first time, while his own eyes have been shut for nearly four days straight now

You had never seen your Lieutenant without the signature mask that haunts the dreams of even the deadliest foreign mercenaries, had never seen him look anything less than intimidating, commanding, powerful without so much as even trying to, his presence alone striking fear into those who’ve heard whispers of the fearsome Ghost

Now however, with an IV hooked up to his arm and a nurse that comes to check on his vitals periodically, it’s hard to picture him as such a gruesome soldier, rather than a simple man who bleeds like any other human

In spite of the evident vulnerable position he finds himself in, his pale skin appearing nearly translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, there was no denying that Ghost remained someone to be feared

A particularly nasty blow to the head during a field op gone wrong had knocked the burly soldier out cold, and though doctors were optimistic he would make a full recovery, they couldn’t exactly tell the extent of the damage done until he woke up

You and the men that made up the remainder of the 141 had been taking turns remaining by his side, not wanting for Ghost to wake up alone, whenever that would be exactly

You wonder how he would feel about this, the fact that you are currently the one on shift for the unofficial rotation of visitors who’ve stuck by his bedside throughout his injury

You’re well aware of the fact that the Lieutenant doesn’t like you, has never liked you, and probably never will, though you’ve never been able to get a straight answer as to why

From the moment you’d met him, he’d been cold to you, distant, making no effort to get to know you nor welcome you to the team, opposite to the way the Sergeants and Captain had welcomed you with open arms and hearts

No matter how much you poked and prodded at them for an answer, some sort of inclination as to what you could possible have done wrong to have Ghost dislike you so much, the men always bit their tongues

You saw the way they exchanged knowing glances and sly smirks, believing they were being more cunning than they really were, insisting to you with carefully chosen words that it wasn’t something you should worry about too much, that the LT had a different way of expressing his feelings than most

“So long as he doesn’t wake up and want to ‘express his feelings’ by punching me in the face for being the first thing he opens his eyes to.” You thought to yourself, glancing up from your book at his still sleeping form, shaking your head at your silly thought

No, he’d never been particularly kind to you, but he’d also never gone out of his way to be cruel to you either you supposed

Perhaps he found you to be more of a nuisance than anything else, a pest he couldn’t seem to swat away hard enough, an annoying pimple he couldn’t quite pop

Your eyes scanned over his face once more, cursing whatever Gods might be listening that the man hiding beneath that Ghost facade had to be so … intriguing

You could see old scars running across his face, some of them peeking out from under the surgical mask while others ran across his brow, his crooked nose evident even under the fabric of the mask

He was handsome in his own, rugged way, a fact you were displeased to learn when you first saw him laying here, switching off with Soap who’d been sat at his side earlier

Ghost may not care for you, not that he had given you many reasons or chances to care for him, but you cared about your remaining members of the task force, and knew how important Ghost was to them, and so for the 141, you’d do your duty and care for a Ghost who apparently wanted no such love and tenderness from you

You looked the large man over, brows furrowing when your eyes landed on his neck, noting that the pillow supporting his head was getting a little flat

You stood from your chair, setting your book down, and approched him carefully, almost as though any sudden movements would somehow wake the comatose man from his slumber

As gently as you could, you attempted to adjust the pillow behind him to hopefully be more comfortable, quickly realizing just how heavy he was when he was nothing more than dead weight

You slowly slipped your hands behind his shoulders, pulling him forward as best as you could until you were able to adjust the pillow one handed

Slipping your hands back down his shoulders to ease him back into the bed, your palms naturally ending up sliding onto the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers brushing against the hair at the base of his skull, an involuntary shiver running through you at what you realized too late was a bit of an intimate touch with a man who’d been touch starved for years

It was hard to say who was more stunned at first, with how quickly things transpired, when you suddenly felt a pair of strong hands reaching up to grip your wrists and hold them in place

You hadn’t even realized you had let out a gasp as your eyes flicked down and met none other than Ghost’s own wide open orbs only inches away from you, staring right at you as though he was seeing a ghost

Stunned into silence, worried that you truly were about to end up on the receiving end of Ghost’s anger for having invaded his space like that, you barely had enough time to process that he’d somehow woken from his coma when his grip on your wrists tightened further, and somehow, whether it was a trick of the light or you imagination, his gaze softened before his scratchy, out of use voice said:

“Love.”

Your ears were ringing, hardly taking notice of the way a flurry of alarms and bells had gone off as soon as Ghost had woken up, his heart rate soaring through the roof and alerting staff

Medical personnel rushed into the room before you could wrap your mind around any of what was happening, Ghost’s grip on your never loosening until the doctor finally approached you both, sensing the tension in the air

“Lieutenant Riley,” the man said, gently landing a hand in Ghost’s bicep to hopefully help him ease his strong grip on you. “Let her go.”

His grip on you disappeared instantly, as though your skin had suddenly burned him, but his eyes never wavered from your own, even as he began mumbling unintelligibly beneath his medical mask

“What was that?” The doctor asked, trying to bring calm back to the room and ease Ghost into a state where he could be properly examined

“My girl.” The Lieutenant’s gravelly voice echoed throughout the sterile room

“Pardon?”

“My girl.” Ghost repeated, never once breaking eye contact with your now widened eyes

“Do- do you know who this is, Lieutenant?” The doctor posed the question, slowly gesturing towards you with a confusion that was spreading amongst you all

“‘Course I do.” Ghost spoke with certainty. “That’s my love.”

Part two

[makoodles]

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place. 

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training. 

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you. 

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz. 

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything. 

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs. 

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication. 

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them. 

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago. 

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement. 

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate. 

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly. 

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side. 

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person. 

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention. 

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement. 

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin. 

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself. 

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,” He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life. 

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him. 

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder. 

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language. 

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe. 

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy. 

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them. 

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands. 

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone. 

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now. 

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now. 

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end. 

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar? 

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.” 

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide. 

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him. 

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries. 

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant? 

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But… 

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl. 

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively. 

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks. 

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly. 

It takes you a moment to process that. 

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting. 

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you. 

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp. 

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity. 

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together. 

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear. 

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs. 

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly. 

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost’s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately. 

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot. 

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt. 

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine. 

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant. 

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves. 

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown. 

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock. 

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering. 

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost. 

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this. 

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy. 

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch. 

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there. 

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button. 

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you. 

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves. 

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response. 

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away. 

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick. 

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside. 

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. 

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs. 

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it. 

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed. 

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery. 

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything. 

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”