#they already have a grip on me... it's insane!

[writeriguess]

hiii may I request katsuki x reader where he has to go to a work trip overseas and reader stays home, where she finds out she’s pregnant (or it could be the other way around, we stan prohero reader) 🥹 ofc when he comes back she has the news prepared, please tooth rooting fluff 🫶🫶

Future Little Explosive

Katsuki Bakugo had been gone for just over a week on an overseas work trip, and it was already driving you insane. He called every night, making sure you were eating properly, locking up before bed, and not overworking yourself. He was as gruff as ever, muttering complaints about jet lag and how annoying his colleagues were, but you could hear the longing behind every word. He missed you. And there was something you hadn’t told him yet—something that made every call feel heavier with a secret.

You were pregnant.

The realization had hit you two days after he left, when your body felt off in a way that couldn’t be ignored. The nausea, the exhaustion, the unusual cravings—it all clicked together. A few tests later, and there it was: two solid pink lines staring right back at you. You had spent the following days in a mix of shock, excitement, and pure anticipation, thinking of how to tell Katsuki the life-changing news. You could already imagine his reaction—equal parts disbelief and sheer pride.

You had started picking at your meals more, wondering if you should change your diet already. You found yourself resting your hands over your stomach absentmindedly, marveling at the fact that a tiny life was growing inside you. The thought made you emotional at odd moments, and you cursed your hormones when you teared up over something as simple as dropping a spoon. More than anything, though, you wished Katsuki was home to experience this with you.

By the time he was due to return home, you had everything planned. You wanted it to be perfect—something that would catch him off guard in the best way possible. You decorated the living room subtly, nothing too flashy because you knew your husband would immediately be suspicious if he walked into something too extravagant. Instead, you placed a small, neatly wrapped box on the kitchen counter with a onesie inside that read: Future Little Explosive.

When the front door finally swung open, you practically ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he grunted in surprise, his strong arms instantly securing you against him. He smelled like the airport and faintly of smoke, but to you, it was the most comforting scent in the world.

“Missed me that much, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a tenderness behind it that only you ever got to hear.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, breathing in his scent. It had been too long without him.

He kissed your forehead before stepping back, scanning you up and down with narrowed eyes. “You look different.”

Your heart jumped, but you played it cool. “Long week.”

As he dropped his bags by the door and toed off his boots, you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the kitchen. “C’mere, I got you something.”

He raised an eyebrow but followed without protest, his sharp crimson eyes flicking to the small box on the counter. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

With a skeptical huff, he tugged at the ribbon and lifted the lid. His brows furrowed at first as he pulled out the tiny onesie, turning it over in his hands. The room was silent for a moment, and you watched as realization dawned on his face.

His grip on the fabric tightened slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours, wide and searching. “Wait… are you serious?”

You nodded, tears already pricking at your eyes. “Yeah, Katsuki. We’re having a baby.”

For a second, he just stared, his jaw clenching like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. His fingers trembled slightly around the fabric, his breath shaky. And then, with no warning, he surged forward, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was all passion, relief, and overwhelming love.

“Holy shit,” he breathed against your lips, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re serious?”

You let out a watery laugh, nodding. “Dead serious.”

A rare, unguarded smile broke across his face, something so raw and full of emotion that it made your heart swell. His hands, which had always been rough and calloused from years of hero work, were gentle as they moved to rest on your stomach. His touch was hesitant at first, like he couldn’t believe it was real. Then, he pressed his palm fully against you, his warmth seeping through your clothes.

“We’re gonna have a little brat running around, huh?” His voice was softer now, almost in awe.

You placed your hands over his. “Yeah, we are.”

He exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit, I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

For once, he seemed lost for words. His usual cocky attitude had melted away into something far more vulnerable, and it made you love him even more. He pulled you in again, holding you like he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, you knew—this was the beginning of something incredible.

[aspenmissing]

Heyyy, I just wanted to say that I really enjoy your writing!!! Also, I would love to see the way you write the arcane characters x chubby reader if it's possible? (Sorry if you have already done something like this) 💗

ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4183 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇꜱᴇʟꜰ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴꜱᴜʟᴛ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ/ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ! ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʙᴜꜰꜰ, ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴍᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ ꜱ/ᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been drawn to beauty. The sleekness of Hextech, the gleam of polished metal, the refined architecture of Piltover. But none of it, none of it, compared to you.

You, with your curves that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves, draped in fabric that hugged every soft dip and roll of your body. You had never been one to hide, never been one to shrink yourself down to fit into someone else’s mould. You knew exactly who you were, and you owned it.

And Jayce? Jayce adored it.

He watched from across the room as you adjusted your corset, pushing up your ample chest with a satisfied smirk. The deep burgundy fabric accentuated every inch of you, cinched at the waist, only to flare out around your full hips. You turned slightly, catching him staring in the mirror, and let out a teasing hum.

"Like what you see, Talis?"

Jayce set down the schematics he was pretending to study and leaned against his desk, arms crossed, but his eyes never left you. "You know I do. How could I not when you look like that?"

You sauntered over, hips swaying, reveling in the way his gaze darkened, how he practically devoured you without laying a single hand on you yet. Stopping in front of him, you placed a hand on his chest and tilted your chin up, an eyebrow raised.

"You should say it, you know," you teased. "A man of your intellect should be able to articulate what he wants."

Jayce let out a breathy chuckle, his hands finally finding your waist, his fingers pressing into the plush softness there. He had always been strong, always been powerful, but when it came to you? He was completely at your mercy.

"I want you," he murmured, pulling you flush against him. "I love all of you."

You grinned, satisfied, running your hands up his broad shoulders. "Damn right you do."

Jayce kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of devotion into the press of his lips against yours. His hands roamed greedily, tracing every curve, every soft plane, revelling in the warmth of you beneath his fingertips. He didn’t just love you—he worshipped you.

His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline, along the sensitive skin of your neck, drawing a soft sigh from you. "You drive me insane, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

You laughed, fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "I know. That’s half the fun."

His grip on your waist tightened as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on his desk amidst scattered blueprints and tools. His hands slid along your thighs, his thumbs brushing teasingly over the tops of your stockings. "And what about you?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you know what you do to me?"

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer. "Oh, I have an idea," you purred. "But I’d love a demonstration."

Jayce let out a deep, satisfied chuckle before capturing your lips again, his hands roaming, exploring, savouring every inch of you. He wanted to make sure you felt just how much he adored you, how much he needed you. Every curve, every soft plane—everything about you drove him to the brink of madness.

And he had no intention of stopping.

VIKTOR

The hum of Piltover’s night buzzed softly beyond the lab’s windows, but inside, all was still. The only illumination came from the dim glow of Hextech crystals, their soft light casting a golden hue over Viktor’s form as he lounged on the small couch in his lab. He looked comfortable—one arm stretched over the back, the other resting against his chest, his ever-present cane propped against the side of the couch. His golden eyes gleamed with warmth as they traced over you, standing hesitantly by his side.

“Come,” he murmured, patting his chest invitingly. “Lay with me, moje láska.” (My Love)

Your heart clenched at the tenderness in his voice, but the moment you considered it, a flicker of hesitation crept in. You weren’t small, and Viktor—Viktor was delicate in ways you didn’t like to dwell on. His body bore the weight of his work, of years of overexertion and the creeping grasp of his illness. You didn’t want to risk making it worse.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you admitted, arms crossing over your stomach instinctively. “I’m��”

“Soft?” Viktor finished for you, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Warm? Everything I could possibly want pressing into me?” He tilted his head, watching you with an expression you knew well—the one that told you he was about to be stubborn.

You scoffed, but your pulse quickened when he suddenly reached for you, strong fingers curling around your wrist. Before you could protest, he pulled, not with force, but with conviction, guiding you until you were straddling his lap. His hands settled at your hips, grounding you.

You froze. “Viktor—”

“Shh,” he soothed, slipping a hand up your back, pressing you down against him. “You will not break me, my love. I want you here.”

Your breath caught as his warmth seeped into you, his body firm beneath you despite his slender frame. His heartbeat thrummed steadily under your ear, and for a moment, all the worries melted away. His fingers traced absentminded patterns over your back, slow and tender, as if memorizing every curve of you.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and something deeper—something reverent. "I have dreamed of this. Of you, against me, without restraint."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I just—sometimes I worry that I’m too much.”

Viktor huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “můj drahý, if you are too much, then let me be crushed beneath your love. It is the only weight I wish to bear.” (My Dear)

His words wrapped around your heart like silk, warm and unyielding. You let yourself exhale, sinking further into his embrace. Viktor hummed in approval, his hands smoothing over your back as though reassuring himself that you were finally giving in.

“See?” he whispered. “Not so bad, is it?”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the junction of his neck and collarbone. “You’re warm,” you admitted.

Viktor chuckled, the sound deep and content. “I should hope so. You are quite the blanket.”

You groaned against his skin, giving his side a playful squeeze, and he laughed again—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that made your chest ache with love.

=

For a long moment, you simply lay there, tangled together. Viktor’s breathing was steady, a slow rise and fall beneath you, his hand trailing idly over your back. You felt the occasional twitch in his leg, the remnants of strain from a long day, but he never complained. If anything, he held you tighter, as though afraid you might slip away.

“You should rest,” you murmured after a while, shifting just enough to brush your fingers through his hair. It was soft, tousled from hours spent hunched over his workbench, and the urge to card through it further was impossible to resist.

Viktor hummed, tipping his head slightly into your touch. “I will. But only if you stay right here.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “I think I can manage that.”

He smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. “Good,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Because I do not plan to let you go.”

His voice had that low, certain weight to it, the kind that made your breath catch.

Viktor was many things—brilliant, stubborn, a man forever chasing the next great discovery—but above all, he was yours. And no matter how many doubts clouded your mind, no matter how often you worried about being too much, he always pulled you back to him.

Always.

You shifted slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to his jaw before settling against him once more. His arms wrapped around you with ease, and as the glow of the Hextech crystals flickered gently in the dim light, you felt it.

The quiet gravity of him. Of this. Of home.

JAYVIK

The door creaked open as Viktor and Jayce stepped into their shared room, voices low as they discussed the day’s work. The scent of metal and oil clung to them, remnants of long hours in the lab. They hadn’t expected to find Y/N standing before the full-length mirror, clad only in her underwear, fingers pinching harshly at the soft skin of her stomach.

Viktor stopped mid-step, his cane pressing into the floor. Jayce’s brows furrowed, his expression softening as he took in the scene. Y/N didn’t seem to notice them yet, lost in her own harsh assessment, a scowl pulling at her lips. The dim light cast shadows on her frame, accentuating every dip and curve she scrutinized so cruelly.

“What are you doing, darling?” Viktor’s voice was gentle but firm, enough to break her from her trance.

Y/N startled, arms moving instinctively to cover herself. “I—nothing. It’s nothing.”

Jayce sighed, stepping closer, his large hands reaching for hers. “That doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, guiding her arms away with deliberate care. He traced his fingers over the soft pouch of her stomach, his touch warm and grounding. “You know, this?” He pressed a kiss just above her navel. “This is where your body keeps you safe, keeps you healthy.”

Viktor moved to her side, his cane resting against the dresser as he cupped her cheek. “Did you know that this,” he murmured, his fingers skimming over the plush skin at her waist, “is a sign of warmth? Your body holds onto softness because it knows you deserve it.” He leaned in, lips brushing over the side of her stomach, reverent and slow.

Jayce’s fingers traced down her thighs, his lips following suit. “And these?” He murmured against the soft flesh. “These are strength. They carry you, support you, and they are beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against the plush skin, appreciating the warmth beneath his lips. “Soft, strong, and perfect.”

Viktor’s hands ghosted over her upper arms, his thumb rubbing circles over them. “These arms have held us, comforted us,” he said softly. “How could you think anything less of them?” He kissed her shoulder, letting his lips linger before whispering, “They are a gift.”

Jayce chuckled, tilting her chin up so he could brush his lips against the underside. “And this,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, “is just another part of you to love. It’s soft, and every time I see it, I think of how beautiful you are.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her collarbone, then lower. His fingers traced the plush swell of her breasts, admiration shining in his eyes. “And these,” he breathed, voice laced with affection, “are perfect. They make the best pillows.” His lips brushed over them gently, reverently. “Soft, warm, and made to be cherished.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier self-criticism wavering in the face of their tenderness. “I just…” she exhaled shakily. “I don’t always feel good about it.”

Jayce hummed, kneeling before her, his hands splaying over her hips. “Then let us remind you.” He pressed another kiss, this time to the inside of her thigh, his touch radiating nothing but admiration.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her shoulder. “We see every part of you, and we adore it. Every curve, every mark—” he kissed the soft skin of her upper arm, “—every inch of you is worthy of love.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, overwhelmed by the weight of their affection. Her self-doubt still lingered, but in this moment, with their hands and lips mapping her body with care, it was easier to believe that maybe—just maybe—they were right.

VANDER

The Last Drop had quieted for the night, its usual hum of raucous voices and the clink of glass replaced by the low crackling of the hearth. Vander leaned against the bar, his watchful gaze softening as he took in the sight before him.

There you were, curled up on the worn-out couch near the fire, with Vi and Powder nestled against you, their small forms tucked against your warmth. Mylo lay sprawled across your lap, his head resting on your plush thigh, while Claggor had somehow claimed a spot by your hip, one arm slung across your waist like a lifeline.

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. They adored you—each of them, drawn to your kindness, your warmth, your presence.

Hell, how could they not?

You were the heart of this ragtag family, and Vander knew, deep in his bones, he was the luckiest bastard alive to have you.

"Think ya got enough room there, love?" he teased, approaching with that familiar smirk playing at his lips.

Your sleepy eyes met his, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Mmm, there's always room for you," you murmured, voice thick with drowsiness.

His heart damn near melted.

Crouching beside you, he reached out, his large, calloused hand running over the curve of your hip, giving it a firm, appreciative squeeze.

"That so?" he murmured, voice low, eyes glinting with something more.

Vi stirred, grumbling against your shoulder. "Ugh, get a room, you two…"

You laughed softly, fingers threading through Powder’s messy blue hair. "Shhh, just sleep, sweetheart."

Vander only grinned. "Girl’s got a point, though." His hand trailed lower, fingers ghosting over your thigh before he realized—his damn spot was taken.

Mylo, the little brat, was already sprawled across your lap, his head buried against the plush of your thigh like he had every right in the world to it.

Vander let out a deep sigh, shaking his head with a smirk as he lowered himself to the floor beside you. "Guess I’m gettin’ bumped to second place now, huh?"

You hummed, amused. "You saying you'd fight a kid for my thigh?"

His rough chuckle rumbled through his chest as he leaned in, resting his head just beside your other thigh, where your warmth radiated like a comforting embrace. "Depends. Think I got a chance?"

You carded your fingers through his thick hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Vander sighed, completely boneless beneath your touch, his hand slipping up to squeeze at your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles against the soft flesh.

"Dunno how ya do it," he muttered, voice thick with something deep, something reverent. "Holdin’ all of us together like this."

You smiled, tilting your head down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "Because I love you. All of you."

His grip on your hip tightened, just for a moment. "Yeah, love?" His voice was husky, filled with something raw. "Lucky me, then."

And with that, sleep claimed him, wrapped in your warmth, in your love, in the family you’d built together.

=

Morning came with the usual chaos—Vi trying to fight Mylo over breakfast, Powder accidentally knocking over a mug, Claggor just trying to keep the peace.

You were at the stove, flipping eggs onto plates, the rich scent of a hearty meal filling the room. A pot simmered nearby, steam curling up in lazy wisps. With a sigh, you crouched down to grab a skillet from the lower cabinet, shifting aside a few mismatched lids in the process.

And then—smack.

A sharp but playful sting echoed through the kitchen. You jolted, head nearly knocking against the counter as you whipped around with a glare. Vander stood there, utterly unapologetic, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Vander," you hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Morning, love," he rumbled, entirely too amused.

Your glare wavered when he leaned in, his calloused hands settling at your waist, fingers kneading into the plush curves with slow, familiar ease. His breath brushed your ear, warm and teasing. "Couldn't resist," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. "You're impossible."

"Ya love it."

Before you could retort, Powder piped up from the table, "Y/N! Vi’s stealing Mylo’s toast again!"

You sighed, slipping out of Vander’s grasp as you turned back to the chaos of breakfast. "Vi, knock it off!"

Vander chuckled, watching you go with a look of pure devotion before finally joining the kids at the table—like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

Yeah. This was home.

SILCO

The Last Drop hummed with low chatter, the heavy bass of the music pulsing through the floor like a heartbeat. Smoke curled in lazy tendrils above the tables, the air thick with liquor and sin. But in your secluded corner—reserved only for you and Silco—the world felt quieter.

Silco’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. He was always touching you, always anchoring you to him in some way. A silent declaration. A warning.

You lifted your glass to your lips, savoring the burn of the whiskey. Across from you, Silco swirled his drink, his mismatched eyes half-lidded as he watched you. It was a rare thing, moments like this, where the chaos of Zaun could not touch you.

Then the peace shattered.

A drunken fool stumbled toward your table, glass sloshing in his grip. His eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, zeroed in on you.

“Didn’t know Silco had a thing for—” The man hiccuped, then laughed, his gaze dragging over your form. “—soft women.”

Your jaw tightened, irritation prickling beneath your skin. Before you could react, Silco’s fingers twitched against your thigh. The shift was minuscule, but you knew what it meant.

Danger.

Silco leaned back, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Do finish that sentence.” His voice was soft, almost inviting, but the undertone was razor-sharp.

The drunkard blinked, suddenly aware of the weight of his own words. “I—I just meant—”

Silco moved before the man could stumble out an excuse. His grip left your thigh, and in a blink, he had the fool by the collar, dragging him closer with deceptive ease.

“Tell me,” Silco murmured, his lips ghosting the man’s ear, “do you have a death wish, or are you simply too stupid to recognize one?”

The man stammered, sweat beading at his temple. “I—I didn’t—”

“You did,” Silco interrupted. His free hand—knife-sharp fingers wrapped in leather—came up to press against the drunk’s throat. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make the man’s breath hitch. “And now, you will pay for it.”

A sound like a whimper escaped the man’s lips. The Last Drop wasn’t silent, but the patrons nearby had stopped pretending not to watch. Everyone knew how this would end.

You exhaled slowly, setting your glass down with a quiet clink.

“Silco.” Your voice was calm, but it held weight.

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he sighed through his nose. His irritation was palpable. But he listened.

With a shove, he sent the man sprawling to the floor. “Crawl away,” he sneered. “Before I change my mind.”

The drunk scrambled backward, his face pale, and scuttled into the crowd.

Silco exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before turning back to you. He settled into his seat as if nothing had happened, his hand finding your thigh again, gripping it a little firmer this time.

You traced the rim of your glass, watching the whiskey catch the dim light before turning your gaze back to him. “You let him off easy.”

Silco hummed, swirling his drink before taking a slow sip. “Because you asked me to.”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sharpness of his features, the tension still lingering in the line of his shoulders.

Then you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the table as you smirked. “He’s nothing but a drunken fool, love,” you murmured, voice warm with amusement. “Not worth the clean-up.”

Silco’s gaze flicked to you, that keen intelligence behind his mismatched eyes sharpening. He turned his glass slightly between his fingers, considering your words.

You continued, tone softer now. “A man like that… he doesn’t deserve the energy it would take to dispose of him. He’ll wake up tomorrow reeking of piss and regret, and he won’t even remember why.” You tilted your head, your smirk growing. “Now, that’s a fate worse than death, don’t you think?”

Silco chuckled, low and indulgent, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re far too merciful.”

You arched a brow. “No, I just know the best way to make a man suffer.”

Silco let out a quiet hum of approval, his grip lingering as his thumb brushed absentmindedly over your skin. The warmth of his touch, the silent claim, was intoxicating.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, the hard edge of him melting just enough. “No one,” he murmured, voice like velvet, “speaks to you that way and walks away unscathed.”

Your fingers brushed against his jaw, tilting his face toward you. “I know.”

And when his lips curled into that knowing smirk, you knew—no matter how dangerous the world was, with Silco, you would always be safe.

CLAGGOR (AU)

The dim glow of Zaun’s flickering streetlights barely reached the small hideout where you and Claggor had tucked yourselves away for the night. The world outside was alive with the hum of machinery, the distant rumble of pipes, and the occasional shouts from a gang fight somewhere in the underbelly of the city. But none of it mattered. Not when Claggor had you wrapped up in his arms, his big hands roaming over your soft curves like he was memorizing every inch of you.

You lay sprawled on the bed, tucked against his broad chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sheets were thin, but Claggor’s body was warm, his grip firm but gentle as he held you close. His scent—gunpowder, metal, and something faintly sweet—wrapped around you like a comfort you never wanted to leave.

“Damn, I love this,” he murmured against your hair, voice thick with contentment. His fingers trailed lazy circles over your stomach, kneading the soft flesh like he couldn’t get enough. “Love how soft you are.”

Your cheeks burned at the way he said it—gruff, reverent, like it was a secret only for him to cherish.

“You say that every time we cuddle.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true every time,” he rumbled, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to your temple, the heat of his lips lingering as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you, his fingers wandering over the dips and curves of your body, mapping them out with slow, appreciative touches.

There was something about the way he touched you—like he was fascinated, obsessed with how perfectly you fit into him. His hands never stayed in one place for long, tracing along your waist, dipping lower just to squeeze at your plush thighs before drifting back up. His fingertips skimmed the underside of your belly, then up to your sides, his palms pressing into every soft part of you as if reassuring himself you were really there.

“I swear you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as he gave your hip a playful squeeze.

Claggor chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through your entire body. “Maybe,” he admitted, shifting slightly so he could press his forehead against yours, “but I got the best spot in Zaun right here. Ain’t nothing better than holding my girl.”

Your heart clenched at the pure adoration in his voice. He meant it. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just Claggor and his unwavering love.

You sighed, melting further into him, and let yourself relax. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands didn’t stop exploring, sliding up your back, fingertips ghosting over your spine before traveling down to squeeze at the plushness of your hips. His thumbs stroked along your skin absentmindedly, as if every inch of you was something to be adored.

Outside, the city rumbled on—pipes hissing, gears grinding, neon signs buzzing faintly in the distance. But inside this little hideout, it was just the two of you. His warmth, his touch, his whispered words grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, lips brushing against your cheek, voice hushed like he was afraid saying it too loud might shatter the moment.

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and iron, of home.

“Always.”

And with the steady heartbeat of the only person who ever made you feel truly safe, you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

[writingmochi]

lissie: hiya adeline! (hope i'm okay to call you by the name). well, thank you so so much for the reblog and review and for even giving this fic a read when you found it on tags. i appreciate you so much for it. i hope that this reply to your rb will give you much more insight into the fic (because i love discussing more about this fic that gripped me since i watched all about lily chou-chou last december)

i'm sorry if it is longer than what you expected for a reply but i hope you like it!

spoiler for the whole fic !

"The beginning already has me invested, like I love how it starts."

ahh the intro to the space station forum. i'm glad you are invested by it. a direct inspiration from the introduction in the all about lily chou-chou film. i do think it is intriguing to learn about someone from their interests, just like how you found someone creating fics about enhypen like me, and it is such an underutilized tool of introduction other than the obvious "describe what the character looks like type of opening". i like writing stories in medias res, definitely added more to the slice of life aspect of the fic

"my heart already breaks for reader, it's a new school and people are already saying things?"

i imagine that usually in a small town/neighborhood, people know about each other fast especially when someone "unconventional" steps into the neighborhood. older women gossip like birds tweeting around in the morning. when they hear of a new family, those type of people will try to dig into the reasoning of why they move there and all that...

"this kind of bullying is absolutely insane (referring to the mc's homework being mugged)."

the thing is... mugging someone's homework is such a scary and vile tactic that it is now monetised. yes, coming from an asian perspective: perfect scores are everything, especially when you have tiger parents. and usually, the kids will do *anything* to get good scores even if it means you have to steal/copy someone's homework that it creates a revenue stream for people who want their homework to be made by someone else. i just can't imagine the future of people who do that and how despicable they can be

"and the fact that she also receives harassment and bullying in the new school as well is insane."

in my mind, when it comes to bullied people, they have such low confidence in themselves that people with a much higher ego can see it and know how to manipulate it so they can benefit from it for themselves. with mc's position as a new student and the rumours about how she came to be there (the mom fucking with the vice principal, the rumoured high ranking, etc), she is much more fragile to the harassment and already knows deep down in her heart that the cycle will repeat for her again

"I think the first interaction between reader and heeseung ... almost feels like they're more similar than you think."

very similar with their affinity of music and wanting some alone time from everything they experienced in their life.

"Heeseung’s family dynamic is also heartbreaking to see where he more or less has to take care of himself as a result."

genuinely, it is inspired by me and my experience as a broken home kid, especially with my biological dad who seemed to not care about my existence until i entered uni.

"It's also so heartbreaking that Eunho, his friend(??) treats him like this as well."

other than this being the integral relationship in all about lily chou-chou (heeseung is yuichi and eunho is hoshino) that i adapt, much of what heeseung has experienced is inspired by one of the boys in my middle school. he was in the group alongside the "popular kids" think the jocks, bad boys type of boys, but he was treated more as an outsider/servant to them. the other boys like to prank him so much and he is always the butt of the joke. but when writing this fic, i try to think of the reason why this boy wants to stay with the group. validation? friendship? power? mere networking? and so, i implement some of that to heeseung.

another thing to think about the whole friendship aspect between eunho and heeseung is when heeseung met eunho for the first time in middle school, eunho was the one bullied. eunho then was not the eunho who we see at the start of the fic. they met through taekwondo and because of the association, heeseung was also bullied. their bond was made at that time and when that jeju trip happened and eunho changed so much, suffice to say that heeseung can't bear to let a friend go. no one wants to let a friend go even when you have bonded so much until someone tells you just how toxic it is.

mc became heeseung's voice of reason to let him know that his friend now is not the friend he met years before. maybe in some aspect, heeseung believed that eunho would revert back. but that whole scene at the back of the school and the aftermath (him being suspended and beaten by the boys, mc's attempt) is the one that turns him around, to realize that eunho was targeting heeseung for a reason. maybe it's because eunho finds mc intriguing but heeseung is the one who can connect with her (the whole pearl-silver connection through the space station) and many other reasons you can imagine some boy disliking another boy.

"I love how we see the progression of said friendship. And then they way Hee starts not coming to the rooftop because he's worried about Eunho ... I love that since they started talking reader tried her best to encourage Hee to not talk to Eunho and avoid being around him and the other guys."

the romantic aspect of this kind of story about vulnerable people is the growth of friendship they cultivate. from as simple as opening up is hard for people who don't trust other people easily until they can feel the electricity in their chemistry. it's the slow burn aspect that i wanted to write in comparison to the many fast-paced romantic fics enhablr has to offer. that in creating a relationship, time is of the essence when it comes people like mc and heeseung. so i really love writing the little interactions between the two of them like playfully bumping into each other, sightseeing and eating and their little talks from there, and much more

"Also, I always love the integration of the online chat about moonstruck and the fact that the members there gave him advice about reader is sweet."

isn't this what we all have experienced today though?

i think that all about lily chou-chou really introduces that integration perfectly because it shows just how different someone is online and offline. usually, when it comes to online presence, people want to find somewhere to belong and the forum shows that for heeseung's bambi and mc's pearl. you can also see another side of them online because of that anonymous aspect and compare how contrast it is with what they experienced in real life

"I'm so devastated by this, they're just two broken people dealing with their own shit while being together :( The fact that Eunho knew, forced them, and then they get caught :("

now this aspect of the fic is based on heaven by kawakami, even to the part where the bullies force them to "do it". i just think that the camaraderie between the two is important in facing the bullies and by creating their relationship like that, you can feel it solidified and at its strongest when facing their strongest trial

I'm actually so glad reader's identity as pearl got exposed, like I had a feeling she was but this solidified it and oh my god.

hehe yess it's been mc the whole time!

I feel fucking sick, wdym Eunho was Silver, I did NOT expect that. I hate how normal he behaves what the fuck. Also Hee stabbing Eunho???? Unexpected again😭😭

coming from the same prospect of heeseung's bambi meeting mc's pearl and eunho's silver, it comes from the idea of the people you meet online vs the people you meet offline and how different they are. and how the anonymous side of it makes you think differently of the person and their doings + if you know korean, you might catch that eunho is silver because the eun (은) in eunho (은호) literally means "silver"

and the stabbing part is also from all about lily chou-chou. before the concert, mc and heeseung were talking about closing the cycle. the pocket knife was hinted when heeseung just notice a glance of it from the mc's living room. and the last part also reiterate that by closing the cycle, eunho or people like him won't hurt anyone anymore. it brings closure to heeseung's toxic friendship with eunho but also showcase just how much heeseung and mc wants to also move on and alongside the bullies to who lost eunho and seona and risoo for their openness in bullying mc and others.

once again, thank you so much for the reblog!

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. red velvet's seulgi, exo's kai, and original characters)

synopsis: a teenager with tormenting demons following behind her moves to a new school when she encounters a boy who has his own set of demons. together, they confide with one another's similarities as well as through music when the boy introduces the teen to his current obsession: the dreamy pop soundscape of moonstruck.

genre: coming of age, realistic fiction, bildungsroman, slice of life, drama, romance, high school au, early 2000s au, angst, fluff, mature content (bullying, harassment, explicit smut)

inspired by: music radiohead's "motion picture soundtrack" (2000), movie all about lily chou-chou (2001) and literature “heaven” by mieko kawakami (2009)

word count: 46372 (46.3k)

warning(s): physical and verbal bullying, sexual harassment and assault, suicide attempt, murder (please don't read if you can get triggered), familial neglect, descriptions of blood, bruises, wounds, and scars, drug consumption (cigarette, mentions for alcohol, marijuana, and other hard drugs), piercing(s) and sharp objects, crowd crush, mention of parent infidelity, mention of sugar dating/enjo-kōsai, mention of debt and being hunted by debt collectors, two smut scenes (soft sex and rough sex), loss of virginities (m&f), hand job (m&f receiving), oral (m&f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, manhandling, spanking, marking, breath play (choking), subspace

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

this is my first fic since april 2024 my god! genuinely sorry. turns out my exchange program is much more overwhelming that i just can't seem to have the motivation to write and finish drafts. it is also a birthday fic from me to you guys! if you plan to read this, thank you for giving it a chance and hope you enjoy it!

motion picture soundtrack | trailer part of the frequency modulation anthology | an entry for discovery: 400

moonstruck: a solo female korean singer-songwriter known for the genres of dream pop, folk, new age, neo-psychedelia, ambient. inspirations: lily chou-chou, meaningful stone, ichiko aoba releases mentioned: windswept / breathe / angels

a sterile hum filled the space. clicks and clacks are followed in a chaotic rhythm.

pausing. clicks. pausing. clacks.

《hello》 《i didn’t know that there is a place like this before》 《from: bambi

the shine of the monitors reflects onto the iris. the blueish screen that lit up the room, letting the moon’s image show up on the edges of his sight before returning to focus on the incoming messages.

《a newcomer!》 《welcome to the space station》 《where people gather to talk about moonstruck》 《from: pearl

he gazes at the poster hanging behind his thick monitor: the printed moon seemingly glowing for him, yet it is because of the beam that is hitting the image on the correct spot. he follows the light beam from outside to then meet the sight of the real moon painting the outdoor sky. the guitar chords continue to play as the noise of the whirling cd is gone and covered by the beautiful masterpiece. his vision returns towards the screen as he scrolled upwards with his mouse. the boy skim-reads multiple conversations that have taken place in this virtual room.

《listening to moonstruck just feels... different》 《it is like you are floating》 《from: silver

《truly the greatest musician to have ever lived on this earth》 《from: 1004

《moonstruck is not even an earthling》 《she is just the moon personified》 《both its calmness and chaoticness. blessing us to the greatest music ever made》 《from: pearl

the boy glances back to see the familiar name, a smirk forming on his face. maybe this is the perfect place for him to go to. a perfect place to not think about everything and to just fully embrace what moonstruck has shaken within his soul. that is when he heard the piercing sound of the ringtone plays as he turns around.

gulping down his saliva, he lets out a huge sigh before pressing the button and pressing it against his ear. the voice that lingers in his mind calls to him as he stays quiet—letting the spoken message enter his ear and capture every detail as possible. the call ends not even a minute later. he lets out an exhale before returning to the keyboard, typing back his response.

《thank you, pearl》 《i will try to be active more here》 《from: bambi

he grabs his light backpack and stands up from his wheeled desk chair, seeing the box that forms the webpage become blurry as the colours melt together. brushing his hair for the last time, he stepped outside to do what he needed to do under the navy sky. the moon protecting him once more.

-

black shoes coming into vision as they both take steps in succession. the breeze of the spring weather blows, letting the new school uniform shake and move against the body that wears it. the third uniform in the past two years, and a new school logo every semester.

the socks cover right above your ankles enough that it won’t make you shiver as you continue striding towards the school you will be attending. your eyes gaze at the stores still with their entrances covered either by metal doors or wooden panels. a few of them being unlocked and uncovered as you went past them; a new day of business for this side of town. though, this is your first time seeing them with your eyes.

the steady drum rhythm enters your ears as you hold on to your cd walkman, decorating your morning in this unfamiliar place you only just arrived in a mere two days ago. then, you hear the other footsteps around you getting louder. looking ahead, you gaze at the girls wearing the same uniform outfit as yours. most with their alterations, such as the unbuttoned-up shirt all throughout and the little amount of shirt untucked from inside the skirt. your eyes continue to look downwards and forward, continue your journey to the class and, at least, meet up with your homeroom teacher first.

entering the gates, you gaze at the enormous field for football practice as you notice the goalposts on both ends. some students are playing there while others watch, waiting for the bell to ring as they sometimes glance at the large clock placed above the gate. the sound of guitar wailing in your ears creating a shield for you and the words spoken by students you passed by. nevertheless, few words come to seep through the barrier as you continue to walk.

“that’s the new student in year 2.”

“i heard that she was number one in her previous school.”

“but isn’t her school not that good though, especially compared to us?”

“yeah, well. i heard that she’s filthy rich.”

“really? nothing of her look speaks rich.”

“maybe it’s intentional?”

you continue to walk as you let your face rest in its default state, taking a deep breath in as you stop yourself to shake your head; to not let them show that this affects you.

not again.

but, deep down, you know it will. word spreads between people fast as you have recognised from time to time.

the talk of a new family renting such a dilapidated, out-of-place large house with a large courtyard area outside of the known residential area. the couple’s appearance has the looks that could compare to the celebrities seen on magazines. there is also a rumour on how the matriarch of the new family slept with the vice principal so her daughter could get into the good high school of the town—something you wish you could actually forget about as you can still hear the moaning sound from the other room when you’re setting up your personal computer set. the patriarch is nonchalant about it in the dining room whilst reading the newspaper as the voices reverberate throughout the house, knowing that he will and is doing the same with other women for the sake of his, his wife, and his family’s status. to uphold it and keep that image going on.

well, you aren’t even going to be surprised if the rumours you left behind from the other town come to chase you here too. especially with the many acquaintances you have from school only to be left stunned by the sudden announcement of your departure, but also the people who have tormented said family smiling widely on their faces as they see you all go away in a hurry.

knocking on the door gently, the voice inside signals you to slide the door as you enter the room full of teachers. your eyes gaze at the many adults sitting at their desks, opening and checking their files, preparing their books and notes for the upcoming classes of today.

“ah, new kid.” you turn your head towards the side to find a male teacher in a jumpsuit. one of the teachers mom and dad sit across from as they talk about you entering this new school alongside that vice principal mom hooks up with to get you a seat here. coach kim as you remember what he likes to be called because you sat closest to him in the whole discussion.

“what class did you get?”

“uh...” you press the stop button on your cd walkman before speaking, “2-2.”

“ah, seulgi’s class.” coach kim pushes his legs on the ground, his chair moving towards the front of your pathway from the half-wall maze-like desks as he gazes at the female teacher by the window. her hair tied into a lousy ponytail with her head tilted to gaze at the desk.

“seulgi-nim.” her head turns to follow the call of her name, looking annoyed at coach kim before lifting her eyes to look at you standing by coach kim’s desk.

“oh, (y/n). come, come.” she gestures with her hand as you turn your body towards the coach, bowing your body with a quick spoken “thank you” as you walk towards who you assume is your homeroom teacher. by the looks of it, miss kang—as you read from the document in the mail you’ve gotten—seems to be pretty young. maybe in her early 30s with a youthful presence that can make her blend in with the students here.

“g-good morning.” you bow your head as soon as you arrive by her table. miss kang lets out a smile that also makes her eyes smile. something that warms your heart because you never meet someone that excited to see you. yes, not even your parents who are particularly too focused on themselves.

“(y/f/n), yes? or (y/n) is fine?” she glances at your nametag that you handsewn into your school blazer.

“(y/n) is fine.” you echo back. your voice meek to follow her gentle voice. the sight of the wind brushing against the growing leaves makes it much more magical to peer at. you glance down as you catch sight of a folder with your name opened up, transcripts of your scores from your previous two schools displayed there in handwriting.

“welcome to woonmyung high school. i suppose you have gotten your class schedules?” you nodded to her answer, looking back to gaze at her eyes as you ignored the scarily bad score you’d gotten on the paper she was definitely observing. the history of the multiple times you’ve been mugged of your homework before resulting in them being that bad. it’s a miracle that you still do your tests well even with the many sabotages you’ve endured.

“i will bring you to class as we also announce things that will be happening in the new semester.” the chair is pushed back as she stands up, organising the messy paper and folders back onto the shelf beside her desk.

“ok,” you replied with an exhale, tucking the headset wrapped around your neck as you carefully put it alongside your walkman inside your backpack. you could see the tears it has near the seams: your trustee backpack that has been by your side since a long time ago. it has stains of dirt and other condiments on it that you could not count because of the multiple times it was thrown around and things thrown onto it. zipping it up, the sound of the bell ringing makes you jump as you turn your head towards the corridor—staring through the window as you watch multiple students walk into their classes in a hurry and even in calm.

you step into the corridor when it is empty—trying to take in the path to your classroom but get distracted by the view you peek through from the many classroom windows. you catch the various sounds of teachers talking about this week’s homeroom things with the students settled in their individual chairs and tables. some of them put the information on the board and the other thinks speaking about it is enough for the students to take in. your path follows that of miss kang as her walk seems much more like a glide even though she wore such a tight skirt. her walking pace slows down as you tidy your uniform once again, tugging your skirt down so that you won’t get any wardrobe malfunctions before the familiar sound enters your ear as you look forward to finding the class door labelled 2-2 opens to the side with the woman now out of your sight.

the commotion becomes quiet as miss kang steps inside first. the students looking at her as she speaks her greeting before they turn their heads towards the door that she didn’t close. they peek to the door to find your static figure as you pause yourself like you are being spotlighted.

then it started.

snickers. giggles. whispers.

the familiar sounds you’ve heard all the time settling onto some of them as you shift your head to catch miss kang looking at you. gulping down your saliva, you step inside the classroom and carefully slide the door closed.

taking in the classroom clearly, your eyes landed on the empty table two rows from the cupboard at the back of it where students put their belongings. the lights from the sun coming in from the windows in rays that lighted some people while shrouding others. but you can still feel eyes on you as you walk the walk you’ve experienced multiple times in your young life once again.

“we have a new student, everyone.” miss kang said before her hand rested on your lower back, signalling you to continue the usual steps.

“g-good morning. my name is (y/n). i do hope you will treat me well.” you bowed your body near a 90-degree angle, lasting for around three seconds as you slowly blinked and lifted your body upright. hoping that, yes, they do they will treat you well this time. even though you know it won’t by the looks on some faces as they are holding back on expressing something.

“thank you, (y/n). please, take your seat.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling your cheeks getting warm as the usual tingling caresses your skin once again from the gazes of your new classmates. eyes gazing at the empty table, they trail to the familiar item on the table behind it. shifting quickly, you glance to find a similar cd walkman to the one you own resting on the table. trailing further upwards, you found the owner.

he is wearing the school’s navy blazer but minus the vest you’re wearing. the first two buttons of his uniform shirt open where you could see the inner light grey t-shirt peeking out. his eyes are wide and his hair is styled so that a few strands at the front frame his forehead well. his full lips are a bit chapped before you take a quick glance at the eyebags underneath his wide brown eyes. you reach your desk too fast to gather any information about a name, turning your body towards the front to avoid suspicions but you could hear the movement behind you. the sound of something moving on the wooden table as you gaze at the desk with a drawer underneath it. the number on the desk’s corner telling you of the cupboard you can put your belongings into. textbooks, notebooks, stationery, and more.

putting the backpack down inside the desk’s legs, you tidy up the skirt’s fabric against your thighs as you settle down on the chair where you will sit the rest of the semester. miss kang continues to talk about what is usually talked about in the homeroom session as you rummage to get your things out for the lesson after this. ignoring the many glances and whispers you know are targeting you.

the class has gone well for most of the part because you ignored them, well, nearly all. you just move your head and body enough for you to be able to read what is written on the blackboard with the chalk’s unstable clarity. the snickers continue as you focus on the board at the front. that is when you catch a folded paper coming into your vision from your right side and landing on your table.

twisting your head to glance at where it comes from, you find a boy sitting beside you only with his unkempt uniform on. his eyes gazing at you with a squint in it. the corners of his eyes becoming more of a straight line as you watch him smirk. eyes moving from your bewildered face to the note on your table. focusing out of him; you notice other boys in seats around him doing the same thing. looking at you like predators.

quickly, you pick up the note as you place it on your lap, thumbs on either side of the fold and push it open.

hey newbie. you definitely look better without the uniform on.

heat rises once again to your cheeks as you take a small glance at them before you hear another snicker coming from near the corner of the room by the door. a group of girls who are also looking at you with looks that seem so distinct from the boys. yes, you received notes like this with such disgusting words. but never one that seemed to imply something sexual. swallowing the saliva gathered on your tongue, your fingertips rub against the paper. to rip it up like you should do, to hide it like you would always do before, or to leave it be so that the teacher could see it.

your hands quickly move as you finish taking in all options: folding it back and tucking it into the drawer underneath. it earns you more chuckling from the boys and girls as you just want to hide away in the darkest corner of this school you could ever find. instead of wanting more attention to you, you cower into your seat and grab your pencil once again. tucking your head near your chest so that nobody could see just how flustered and shameful you are.

the snicker also comes from the boy sitting behind you, taking a small peek at him with his messy desk before his eyes move towards the boy seated beside you. observing their interaction, one glance from the boy beside you quiets the snicker of the boy behind you, adding the description of this boy’s power dynamic upon people. the boy behind you has the corner of his lips falling down, his head hanging low as his bangs covered the top half of his face. returning your sight back to the front of the class, you continue to make yourself small, taking as little space as possible for movement, until the class is finished.

as the teacher said his farewell, students flocked towards the door as they headed towards somewhere for the lunch break. you went back to the cupboard to put the books inside before you pulled out something from your backpack: the lunch box filled with food you created for yourself this morning. feeling the condensation of the hot meal against the lid, you lifted it open to smell the tasty aroma of kimchi fried rice that makes you drool. resting your backpack on the cupboard so you can settle back to your seat, you lifted your lunch box and turned your body, slamming onto another hard surface as you picked up gasps coming from around you.

the sound of your utensils landing on the floor follows with a big splat from your lunch box as you see the red of the kimchi staining the tile floor. your head lifted to see someone in a similar outfit to you but with a big red stain and grains of rice on her blazer. your vision landed on the nametag of jung seona.

“what the fuck, bitch?” her voice makes you look at the face it is from. eyes widening to recognize her as one of the girls who were also looking at you and snickering with the boys. and so are the three girls around her and you, caging you in. you knew that this would eventually happen. that they would accidentally slam onto you to spill your food on them. but not on your first day being here.

“i, i’m so sor-“

“sorry doesn’t cut it,” seona says, her grimace combined with a hidden grin you could recognize as you know you can’t do anything when you are being surrounded. her finger points at you, “you have to pay for this. for the laundry, at least.”

you wanted to open your mouth when one girl beat you to it, lifting your backpack as she shook it so the contents fell down. your hair clip, your cd walkman, your wallet, and your phone with silver strap and star decorations on it. you wanted to grab onto the walkman when hands grab onto your own arms and shoulders as they held you still. hearing the click of the tongue, you watch another girl—risoo from her nametag—giggling as she pulls out the cash you only have in your wallet. a 1000 won banknote in her hand as she gave it seona standing behind you.

“that should be enough,” she said.

“enough and more.” seona replied and giggled.

“also fucking disgusting of you to drop food like that,” another girl said as she lets go of you, making you tumble and fall down beside your leftover food.

“come on, bitch. eat it,” one other girl said as you tried to stay strong, yet your eyes were trembling as you could sense the tears forming up. you wanted to stay strong, but you could hear how your stomach was rumbling at the wrong time.

“oh, girly is hungry. such a shame that her only food is the one on that disgusting floor.” the girl who held onto you says from beside you.

“yeah, and she should definitely clean it up,” another girl echoes as they all snicker.

“you know, there is a two bird one stone solution for this...” risoo said as her steps sounded closer to you. then, a grip on your hair pushes you towards the fallen kimchi fried rice. your face hitting the rice as it stains all over your skin. your head still pushes back before more weight is added with the force, making you have to open your mouth so oxygen can enter you because of your blocked nose.

“come on, doggy. eat your lunch.” risoo voices behind you as you can’t help but actually swallow the rice or else you might choke. that is when you discover the clicking and sound of a digital camera that you stop to fight back. shame clouding you once again as you don’t want to show your face.

with hair covering your eyesight, you lift your head as you pick up the clicking sounds on a phone that has a silver strap and stars. your phone being messed with as you see the dexterous fingers pressing against buttons multiple times. spelling out a name or message or something when you heard a ringtone on another phone that comes from seona’s shirt pocket.

“if i call, answer, alright?” said girl commands, dropping the phone down as it landed on top of your hand on the floor. softening its hit, but you could feel your flesh breaking on the impact as blood flowed through them and warmed the area up. the girls moved away from you. messy hair covering your face as you can only glimpse through them and your blurry sight.

“come, girls. we have a much more decent lunch to get to.” seona taunts as the girls stepped away from the class and closes the back door of the class. leaving you alone to wallow in the condition you find yourself in once again. the chirping of the bird helps you to think your next best action as you just... be. wanting even more to search for that darkest corner so you would not be found.

your hands move to scoop the fallen kimchi fried rice into the container and grab tissues from your backpack to wipe the stains away alongside the water from your water bottle until it is as clean as possible. you also took your pocket mirror and opened it, seeing the cracked mirror on it as you rubbed away the stains that rested on your skin before it dried up. your hair is messy as you stare at yourself and your eyes are swollen with a teardrop actually falling down, making you quickly brush it away with your hand.

the grumbling stomach reminds you of the food you made as you drop it into the bin alongside the whites of the tissue. you glance at the open wallet leftover from what happened to find nothing in it, feeling so angry at yourself for not committing to the idea of putting emergency money in another pocket if this thing happens again. you have gotten personal items stolen from this exact wallet and you are smart enough to not include them in it, but you have to remind yourself you should put emergency money either inside the cardholder of the wallet or even other pockets of your bag. with nothing to do for this lunch and no money to even buy lunch, you tuck your phone into your blazer pocket and grab onto the walkman that they seemed to leave alone.

after putting the backpack away into your cupboard, you step outside the class to notice a much emptier corridor than you expect because most of the students are at the cafeteria, field, or other hang-out places in the school. you walk towards the sets of stairs as you look upwards. maybe you’ll find the deepest corner you were searching for on the floor upstairs.

the climb up doesn’t feel as tiring as you thought when it is combined with the little gush of wind blowing. on the floor landing, you look to both sides to find more classes and the half wall before you that overlooks the front of the school and field. sounds coming from meters below you as you try to observe as best as you can on things on the floor. that’s when you see a corner between classes with the one nearest to the light showing you another set of stairs.

your feet striding again towards the shrouded space as you see the stairs leading up and you smirked. you know of your fair share of rooftops as a hangout place. and you don’t care about how windy, rainy, or sunny it is. you will be on the rooftop nearly all the time in your previous schools and no one seemed to know about it the school’s staff who have to do maintenance there. hopefully, it’s the same thing here.

the green exit sign shines above you as you push open the door to the rooftop. another gush of wind, albeit harder, blows against your face and body as you carefully let go of the door so it doesn’t slam into the frame. you could see the view you saw from the lower floor, but it was much, much smaller and blurry. stepping more onto the open space and underneath the noon sun, you walked towards the edge of the rooftop fenced with fences even taller than you, much different from the half walls you see on your previous schools’ rooftop. your hand reaches for the fence, feeling your fingers wrapping around one of its holes as you can visualize the cage changing into the sight of the skirt-wearing girls’ legs that were also caging you as you don’t want to look up. memories that seemed so long ago, even though it was from months before today.

sighing, you turn your head to walk towards the side of the door so that no one can see you when they arrive at the rooftop. pressing your hand against the walkman that is between your armpit, you put on the headset and cover your ears as you walk towards a wall: a barrier from the box containing the staircase down. turning around, you glance down and hold onto your walkman as you slowly slide down against the wall. your finger pressing the power button as you see the light turning on alongside the whirling of the cd inside. you press the rewind button as the cd rapidly spins before a sudden stop, and then you are met with the sound of a subdued synth piano coming.

you rested your head against the wall, closing your eyes as you let the breeze blow against you as you breathed in and out the clear air. the beautiful sound going on in your ear captures the moment so well that you can sense the weight of rest landed on you, making your body calmer as you capture the notion of sleepiness once again from the hard nights of not even getting a minute of sleep. your legs stretched in front of you, feeling your muscles relaxing as your body releases the tension it endures on nearly every muscle.

letting out an enormous sigh, you open your eyes to find a silhouette right across from you. blinking away the blurriness, you tuck your legs closer to your chest as you stare at the figure. a figure you recognize.

a boy with his own pair of earbuds inserted into his ears, connected to the cd walkman he has lying beside his body. the school blazer opens more with the gust as you find more of his broad shoulders. the hair fallen by his forehead blows along with the wind as he watches you. his wide eyes on you.

here you two are, sitting on the walled area beside the rooftop entrance where the rest of the roof is barricaded by the fences. music enters each of your ears with both your headset and his earbuds on. you wanted to stand up and walk away to find another place, but you stayed as you eyed him. his gaze looks between your face before towards your blazer, scanning your name etched there. and you do the same.

the boy sitting on the desk behind you: lee heeseung.

-

《do all of you know mazzy star?》 《i heard that she inspired moonstruck to create her songs》 《from: cosmiccomet

《hope sandoval specifically》 《psychedelic sound that》 《if you listen to it》 《will actually make you float》 《both moonstruck and hope sandoval has this aura to them》 《what the station calls the celeste》 《something out of this world》 《only those who possess this can be assigned as the greatest musicians of all time》 《from: pearl

《started by the weird band out there》 《the velvet underground》 《its popularity can be compared to the beatles if they’re not so underground》 《from: walker0

《and it culminated into moonstruck》 《all its influences?》 《from: bambi

《sure thing》 《from: pearl

the boy sits down on the path between growing fields. the greenery overtook his sight and expanded into the horizon he could see. the moonstruck album, breathe, played in through his ears as he holds onto the walkman with both hands. pushing himself up from the asphalt road, he steps down and walks towards the dirt path visible from the growing grass nearly as tall as his thighs. the wind blows the pollen as it helps the plants grow. the edges of the flourishing leaves caressing his skin as he continues to walk, grazing his hand as it combines with the touch of the music player.

heeseung takes in the ethereal sound of moonstruck’s songs. something that always helps him to calm down his nerves. a remedy he had been obsessed with recently and to think that he wouldn’t find it if he walked away from that cd store too fast to hear the song playing over the speakers.

since he got his cd walkman on his 14th birthday, he had moved from listening to music on the radio to buying cheap on-sale cds in the store near school. songs like trot that he had heard in nearly every mom-and-pop shop he went to and the pop songs airing on tv made him tired of hearing them. and his introduction to more rock-sounding songs added colour to his otherwise colourless life, albeit only a bit of tone. on one of those trips, when he had to generate some money for eunho most easily, he discovered moonstruck.

the other boys didn’t search for him that day as the store clerk lets him listen to one song with the expensive headphones music people usually have. hearing the drum starting on time, not brash like the rock songs he listened to. much more relatable to his situation as he found his way to not think of what the others might have thought—they didn’t even realize he disappeared.

bruises and scars, inflicted by multiple people under one control, frequently decorate heeseung’s forearms. eunho was, is, and still a friend of his since middle school. but the domino of one after another changed him and his life, taking control of most if not all aspects of his old friends into his hands as he became the king of woonmyung high school. heeseung has to if he wants to survive. he had been on the opposite side of it once in the first year of high school and he swore he would never do it again.

two days ago, his dad had given him extra cash for his pocket money that he hid fast so that he couldn’t get mugged off. he ran towards the cd store by the school to see two discounted albums of moonstruck, windswept, and the latest, breathe. quickly, he grabbed them and stuffed them into his backpack. he had never left the house without his backpack housing his cd walkman, riding around on his bicycle into the days and nights where he had errands to do alongside his two other friends. chores he had to fulfil and if he succeeded, he would get a bigger cut. field trips to the grassy patches of greenery were when he had finished doing those errands; his usual bandage wrapped around his palm and only 500 won in coins given enough for him to eat a pack of the 500 won ramyeon.

coming home from the fields, the wailing cries of a newborn baby make heeseung realize his reality. when looking into the living room, he sees the scrunched eyes of his baby brother as tears fall down his cheeks.

“heeseung, is that you?” a voice comes from the kitchen.

“yes.”

“take care of heechan for me.”

the boy looks down at the crying baby. a sigh coming out of his open lips as he crouched down beside the blanket where his baby brother was resting. pushing his hand out, he cradles the head and little body and lifts it up before adjusting his holding position. the cry continues as heeseung gently moves heechan so that his little head can rest on his older brother’s shoulder. heeseung coos, seeing the drool staining his unbuttoned shirt alongside the dirt from the field. calming him down, heeseung eyes look between his brother and the living room filled with the remnants of his baby brother. new clothes and a new stroller, all seem to blend in alongside the wooden wall and his parents’ belongings. but he doesn’t see his own until he enters his room. glaring at the baby one last time, he sits kneeled down, hearing his brother’s cry calming down as the boy continues soothing his little backside. he wanted to scream at the baby with all that was happening to him ever since he was born, but he knew it was not the baby’s fault he was here.

his parents had heeseung when they were young. nearly the end of their last year of high school as his mom couldn’t even come to her graduation ceremony cause she had to give birth. having a younger set of parents is a turmoil in at of itself. children will grow up alongside their parents with this and he felt himself. he still remembered how sometimes his parents came home drunk, taking care of themselves more than his 5-year-old self. sometimes, they only remember him such as when he fell off the tree when he was 10, making them have to pay for his stitches and the leftover scar on his collarbone. and with his parents now in their mid-30s having a baby once again, their attention is on him more. making heeseung have to fend for himself until his parents gave him his allowance again.

mom approaches heeseung as she kneels down behind him. the boy hears how mom coos for his brother as he turns his head once again, being face to face with the wide brown eyes that he also has.

“dinner’s ready,” she tells him as the older boy hums, giving the baby to his mother as the coos continues and he walks towards the dining room. the steamy rice caught his attention as he grabbed his plate to scoop some up and the other dishes. he usually waited for the rest of the family to gather at the dining table. but, with the sound of the tv turning on and no hint of dad’s car coming, he has to be by himself again today.

laying down on his bed, his view of the whirring sound of the personal computer in the corner of his room is upside down. the tall cpu settles beside the desk that houses his desktop which looks so similar to the tv outside, the mechanical keyboard, and the mouse wired to the processing unit. beside it, a picture of a monochromatic spherical object looks like it is rising into his view. he turns his body to view it upright, reading the upside-down jumbled words of moonstruck. he got lucky when he was heading home from doing his errands, finding a store putting a poster of moonstruck’s first album’s promotional on sale by the window front—“i wanted to throw it away anyway since nobody listen to them” said the owner. the rope hugging his waist holds on the poster behind him as he rides his bicycle back home.

heeseung’s eyes gaze at the black-and-white picture when his ringtone fills the air as his hands crawl across the mattress and rest on the vibrating item.

“hello?” he calls.

“come to the usual place. now.”

the call disconnected as he wants to reply. his hold on the phone weakens as he drops his lifted arm to the mattress. he eyes the desk and poster of moonstruck once more and sighs, lifting his backpack up as he approaches his room’s door. opening it lightly, he hears the whines of his baby brother and the tv playing in the background. the bedroom on the other side of the house has its door closed as he catches the sound of running water flowing to the en suite bathroom his parents have in their room. stepping out of the front door, the gravel front is still empty of dad’s existence as he grabs onto the bicycle and sits on it, pushing with his foot as he balances himself before going into the familiar rhythm.

the raven colour masks the sky as heeseung’s bicycle headlights and a few street lamps light up the road. dark and obscured fields become the dominant space as he continues to pedal into the place he has been called to. he can see it in the distance. the moonlight created a backlit to the junkyard where he spend most of his time after school, especially when he has to do errands.

arriving on the rocky path, heeseung is enclosed by the junkyard of old vehicles that have been left to rot into pieces for years. no one greets him as he looks at the spotlighted area from his bike’s headlights. yet, he could hear the additional sound other than the gust of wind hitting the rusty metals. the laughter of boys that seemed more similar to hyenas—and it is approaching closer.

“there he is.” heeseung peers more into the darkness. four figures approaching the headlights as they all stand tall and mighty. one has his hood on as smoke comes out from his mouth.

“step off the bike and come here,” the familiar voice commands. heeseung’s hands hold on the handle tight before it loosens. the piercing gaze punctures something in him that hurts more and more if he continues to hold.

he lifts one of his legs and steps off the bicycle, letting it fall against the rocky road as the headlight still continues to turn on. the hooded boy steps closer to him. his facial features becoming more and more prominent as heeseung adjusts his eyes to darkness. a smirk adorning his face that he is all too familiar with. now towards him instead of someone else.

“a flock of birds told me you had extra money and didn’t give it to me.” eunho’s tone is mocking with a little gruff from his cigarette smoking. the light from the end of his blunt shines a bit of his mouth and nose before he blows the hot smoke towards heeseung, making him inhale it not like he had inhaled some of his own before.

“you remember the rule, right heeseung?” the boy chuckles, wiping his face with his clear hand. “of course, you do. you’ve been here since the first day.”

“and you should know your punishment for that.” heeseung stood there idle as the words got to him. yes, he knows the rule. yes, he has been with eunho since the start of all of this. he had kept heeseung at bay with this while many other boys changed. yes, he knew he had to give up on his money because eunho said so. because without him, heeseung would let go of one of the last anchors he had attached to this earth.

eunho steps backwards as heeseung stands there quietly. he watches the guy’s hand flicking towards the other three as they approach him. yet, heeseung still has his eyes on the pebbles by his shoes and that’s what he last saw before the force hits him hard; the darkness he sees is darker than the night.

one boy pulls the backpack strap holding onto heeseung’s shoulders as he can’t help to let out a groan, trying with his might to pull his arm close to his chest yet failing as the other two hold them open. his face buried against the rocks as someone puts pressure on his shoulder blades. he felt the end of this backpack strap slip from his fingers as he looked up, seeing youngbin—the new number 2—zip open his school backpack and turn it upside down. items upon items fell down as he watched his walkman fall to be cushioned by his notebook.

“not the walkman.” heeseung groaned before another boy pushed down again against his back. youngbin seems to take that in mind as he looks between the device and the boy who owns it.

“not the walkman.” youngbin echoes, yet his action says otherwise. he grabs the device in his hand. his finger pushes the button, and the lid opens as he looks at the disc. “but, yes to the cd.”

heeseung continues to be held back before a hit to his stomach pushes his breath away. his eyes becoming blurry as he watches youngbin takes the cd from the walkman and drop it back on the pile of notebooks. the boy looks at the disc, a grin threatening to show up as eunho looks on from behind him.

“moonstruck? who the fuck is moonstruck?” youngbin commented as he lets out a hearty laugh and look back at eunho who gives a look with a neutral expression on his face. heeseung heaves as the pain continues to build with another kick to the stomach. eyes focus on the disc that reflects the light from his bike’s headlights. he never thinks he feels such a big pain before this. the sound of a blitz crack pierces the air as heeseung’s quiet stun gazes as the cd falls onto the ground beside.

split in two.

heeseung arrived home that day, stepping inside the corridor as quietly as possible towards the bathroom. switching the lights on, he turns his head to look in the mirror. the scars creating blood red on his face. one of his eyes is swollen and he can see the area near the apple of his cheek becoming purple. lifting his t-shirt, he met the view of the bruising abdomen as it became harder for him to exhale. the breathe cd rupture into two haunting him as he placed them on the sink, continuing to gaze at it as he aided himself as best as he could.

the errands continue as if the boys forgot what they did to one of them a few days prior. heeseung had the windswept cd close to his chest, always bringing the case around so he could keep it safe. the sound of the calmness of moonstruck’s music playing as he leans his head back against the wall, letting the wind blow on the rooftop. both sounds create a synergy in his head before the sight of an open door halts it alongside the sound it makes. a girl turning her body towards the area beside the tall wall that houses the staircase going to the school building, the area where he sits and the area that he shares with the girl. the area that he shares with you.

sitting down across from him, he gazes at you who is also wearing your own headset connected to the cd walkman that is the same colour as his. you pull out your lunch box and eat it up, body still heaving to take enough breath as if you are running away from someone. he sometimes has his eyes on you, but most of the time, he actually takes a nap there. the spring weather having the right combination to lull him to sleep—him being outside until late at night doesn’t help. and so he rested, even for just a moment.

after giving the money to eunho and stepping away from that, heeseung is still haunted by the broken cd of breathe that he had walked himself to the store. being one of the newest cds out, he couldn’t find any breathe disc in the smaller store. but, just the atmosphere of the display captures his sight so badly. the promotional poster of moonstruck—a woman in a long, flowy white dress with the moon covering her face—stuns him. he eyes the stacks upon stacks of copies of breathe at the lower price that he had bought it a couple of days ago. but, with his hands rubbing inside the pockets he could reach, he knew he didn’t have the money.

yet, he takes one.

and he stares at it sitting on the desk. his head tilts down from where he sits. the bitter tone of the room sending chills down his neck as he sees a figure standing beside him, looking down at the cd and him. his fingers rub against each other on his lap as only the light coming from the window on the door is making the space much more visible. that is until shadows cover the light, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

“the teacher is here, boss,” an employee says as the clicking of high heels becomes more prominent. he doesn’t want it to rattle him more, and that’s why he has his eyes closed, letting the words hit him more.

“good afternoon, sir-“

“is this your student?” the man standing by him asks after the familiar voice greets him. when he recognized the face, his eyes came to flutter open. indeed, he is the one who called miss kang here.

“yes, he is,” she replied. steadiness in her voice.

“miss, your student here has been caught shoplifting,” the man says, opening his palm to refer to the moonstruck cd. heeseung’s head tilts lower, shame bubbling in himself. he could pick up the ruffling of clothes moving behind him, voices that were loud becoming only whispers as tinnitus overwhelmed him more and more. vision becomes blurry not because of tears: like a vignette frames his eyesight as he only stares at the cd he had held in his hands.

“you sure?”

he continues to look at the cd before a hand grabs it, lifting his head up to see the cashier scan the item as someone puts cash on the counter. peeking from the corner, he finds miss kang standing there, looking at the employee who gives the change that she picks up. miss kang picks up the cd, holding it to her body as she reads the cover and track lists on the back. her footsteps left the counter as heeseung followed behind her.

they now stood by the side of the entrance, still staring at the cd casing with information that is relevant for the people interested in buying. but for heeseung, the information tells him what this album is supposed. windswept is more of a creamy sandy colour. while breathe is very green. the aura of celeste he learned about envelops him both visually and aurally to identify this clearer.

the cd appears in front of his upper body. he looks back to see miss kang with a tight-lipped smile. “for you.”

heeseung’s fingers wrapped onto the cd casing as he held it close against his chest, hearing her clearing her throat before speaking, “we still have to inform your parents of this. of your behaviour.”

the sentence makes heeseung turn his head back down, looking at the cd as he sighs, nodding his head. knowing that he has nothing to refute that.

arabesque plays in his ear as he stares at the yellowish-brown coloured wooden sliding door of his homeroom class. the bud sits snugly in his ear as he stares forward, not minding anyone who goes past him. then, two shadows stood in front of him in a prolonged manner that he lifted his head, seeing both miss kang and coach kim standing side by side. heeseung slowly let out a sigh even with the minuscule size of his parted lips. he pushes himself up, already knowing what their request is.

he walked behind the two teachers, folding the wire around the cd walkman as they brought him to the other wing of the school buildings mostly filled with laboratories. looking straight, he recognized the appearance of some rooms from outside: the infirmary that holds sick kids and the consulting room.

heeseung could pick up the commotion behind him as he walked—either some talking about him or they just don’t give a flying fuck. it is still recess time after all. his body is tall enough to let him see into the room from the window; seeing how a student is being treated in the infirmary. they arrive in front of the counselling office. coach kim opens the door to let miss kang in and he follows. his eyes on his mom’s figure already sitting on one of the sofas.

gently, he took steps to reach the sofa and sat next to his mom in a flowy dress and the stroller on her other side.

“good afternoon. i didn’t realize that you had company. heeseung hasn’t told us you have given birth,” coach kim says, breaking the ice as heeseung hears his mom chuckling. heechan is sleeping inside his carriage peacefully and all heeseung can do is give a small glance before looking forward at the glass coffee table.

“yes, coach kim and miss kang, right?” they nodded in reply as she continued, “is something happening to heeseung? is everything okay?”

heeseung’s eyes continue to stare downwards feeling something piercing through the side of his head just with a small glance from his mom. the boy’s hands clench and fidgets on his lap, staying quiet even with a minuscule time to peek to see that his mom is looking towards him.

“well... we cannot sugarcoat this predicament your son has gotten himself into,” coach kim replied. his angular face creates a stoic expression that make heeseung have chills running down his spine. his mom turns her head forward, staring between the two teachers with furrowed eyebrows.

“heeseung got into trouble. he got caught shoplifting a cd,” miss kang says in a soft voice as said boy lets out a long exhale alongside it.

then, it hits him. a thud against his side and a sharp hit against his cheek.

multiple hits as he had to gaze towards the door of the room, mom hitting him with her clenched fist. the baby’s cry adding to the tension. his eyes look at the window beside the door. eyes from multiple people staring at him as one of them has a smirk on their face. eunho’s face.

the hitting stops as coach kim creates a barrier between the woman and her son’s body. the boy twisting his body so that he could get a grip on the baby’s stroller. his hands reaching inside to grab onto the baby’s side and lift him out of his resting place. heeseung lets the baby’s snot and tears stain his uniform, helping to calm him down as heechan’s cry is something that he has been doing inside his soul. to just let out such an agonizing scream, hopeful that someone wanted to check out and tell him it was okay to feel that way.

a liquid trails down his cheek as he stops it right before it hits his brother’s head. looking at the side of the finger, he found a smear of crimson as the little breeze pushed on his skin, feeling the icy pain against the cut of his cheek. his mom has seated down once again. heeseung’s eyes focus on her fingers to see that she is wearing the wedding ring on her designated finger. a drop of blood on the corner of the gemstone.

“it’s only one cd. i have come and clear his name. he does...” miss kang pauses, gazing at her student, who has droplets of blood forming from a cut and is on its way downward, calming down his baby brother at the same time.

“still...” mom replied with a just voice, “stealing is stealing.”

the words hit him so much. having money taken away from him, milking him of his allowance to benefit others: it is so messed up that for him to survive the day, he has to resort to stealing. if not, he might not eat. dad has sometimes given him more allowance than usual yet, even that was taken. is it not his right to do whatever with his money can do? why don’t they understand him?

why won’t everyone just leave him alone? leave him to actually be responsible for himself?

yet, why does he feel so lonely, even with a little brother in his hand?

air grazes the open wound on his cheek as he plays said disc, letting the music fill up his mind as he can receive the little grumbles of his stomach. stepping into the class alone, heeseung laid his backpack on top of the cupboard. he glances at his fingertips that were holding onto heechan before mom picks him up from him. he is reminded of when his baby brother was born: his little palm and fingers gripping onto his fingertip so tight. chirping of birds also decorated the entire atmosphere, where he rummaged to put unneeded items back into his cupboard.

the sound of the door opening doesn’t bother him, yet the giggles are; sending goosebumps along his skin.

“ah, heeseung...” one of them calls, a tinge of raspiness in his voice making his imagination spiral. then more steps are heard. a large shadow overcasts before him. turning his head, he comes face to face with the boys he calls his friends—whatever “friend” means...

heeseung saw one boy pointing at the hurting scar on his cheek, the face tissue he wiped the blood from still tucked in his pocket. that and their snickers reminded him of the very night when the incident that started this whole chain reaction happened. if he just gave them the money, this would not happen. if he just held back from buying a moonstruck cd, he would not be feeling pain and just... continued doing his other things with this group of boys.

“you’re so stupid, huh?” eunho started, “you think because you shoplift much stuff that you can do it by yourself without the others by you?”

“i see it more as a skill issue.” youngbin added, making the other two laugh alongside him.

“ah, please. and a cd too? don’t tell me it’s that moonstruck singer again?” one boy continued, the other three looking at heeseung sheepishly as he said nothing. his silence is him telling the truth of this very question. and it makes them laugh out loud, too loud that it makes heeseung scrunch his face.

“gosh, you think you’re tough, huh? well, look at you. even got a slap from your mom, for fuck’s sake,” eunho remarks before youngbin gives him a nudge. “his mom looks hot though. i think she is still pretty young.”

“fuckable i might say,” the other boy said as heeseung balled his hand into his fist. sure, he knows of the age difference between him and his parents are 18 years. yet, that is his mom that they’re talking about. the same mom that scarred his skin and startled her other son awake from his slumber. the boys continue to giggle, adding to the cacophony of the sounds and voices in his head as his breathing is rapid. and that’s when he heard the school bell ringing, ending lunchtime. he looked behind the boys towards the door to the back of the class door.

your hand slides the door as he meets your face. your cupid’s bow is curving downwards as he can see a plaster also adorning the bridge of your nose. a slight frown added to the whole appearance of you as you take quick glances at every boy surrounding him before giving a look few seconds to heeseung. other footsteps emerge from behind you as the boys turn towards their chair and he turns back towards the cupboard. he takes many more peeks behind his back: the boys sitting down in their seats, the popular girls being loud as they enter the classroom. and you who have put down your backpack and are ready to face the class.

heeseung fidgets with his pen as the teacher comes into the room. soft noises of turning pages and clicking emerge as the teacher writes keywords onto the chalkboard. he opens his notebook and lets the teacher’s words make sense in his head first before he writes it down. his pen moving along to the way heeseung moves his fingers. he picks up the pan and plays along on his lap, not wanting the teacher to notice that it can disturb the class.

the pen was hitting air molecules before a distinct noise came out instead. looking down, he found a folded note on the verge of falling down from its confine. taking a scope around the class, he picks up the note and folds it open. a handwriting that is written clearly for him to read.

“i know what you feel. meet me at the rooftop after school.”

-

leaning your head back against the wall, you could still feel the pain surging down your body.

you tucked your knees to your chest as the blow of the breeze lets the ends of your skirt grazes against your legs. the backpack lies beside you as you eyed the bandage wrapped around your wrist. your walkman rests on your thigh as you gaze upwards at the blue sky that is turning orange. birds are flying in flocks from one end of your vision to another as you follow them. the way they spread their wings so wide and glide through the air molecules. being in tandem with each other. no one left behind.

a week has passed since you’ve been here and you are left behind once again. the rumours about you don’t help, how they still believe you are this rich kid disguising yourself. the lunch box doesn’t help either, resorting to you just buying some cheap kimbap that you know other people are also eating for their lunch—hiding the lunch box deep inside your backpack and eating it before you go home. the lunch box is now empty as you settle into your usual place. bandages litter your arm, hand, and one across your nose bridge.

it happened in the first recess. just a small 30-minute window of time is enough for seona and her girls to get you and do whatever they do to you. all you can do is grit your teeth as you hold on, not wanting to let go of the allowance money you told them you didn’t get. taking the brunt of the hit from risoo that cuts the skin on your nose and could be a worse bruising if you don’t compress it with ice quickly. it results in you going to the infirmary, letting nurse park treat you once again other than the bruising you got on your shin a few days prior.

you remember resting your head on the bed as the nurse walked away, telling you to stay back until you were ready enough to go back to class after lunch. straightening your body, you put the pillow upright on the wall behind you so that you could sit comfortably. the jingling keychain on your phone rings as you pick it up, see the sms notification that you open to see the message of dad telling you that both he and mom are not gonna be home tonight. sighing seems to be a routine for you as you click away and open the game folder, finding the snake game and you press it with the middle button. the screen changes as a line forms alongside a random dot on the screen. your nimble and bandaged thumb presses the arrow button as the snake moves around for you to collect its snack.

one snack and the snake will be longer, trying your best to not hit the border. it continues as the constant movement of your fingers keeps you in focus. the clicking from the keyboard mechanism of the phone creates a steady note in the infirmary. the sound of the other students having their recess while you are here, playing snake into recovery. but giggles caught your attention.

lifting your head from the phone screen lets you see the window of the infirmary towards the hallway. high school students and their ability to be seen from said windows makes it easier for teachers to know which students are running late or a student searching for their friend if they are coming to class or not. instead, you found the head of a bunch of boys huddled on one side of the window. the side where-

the door slams open as you turn your head to the left. a light shadow cast on the floor of the angular shape as you watched a figure stepping from it and turning its head to gaze at the rooftop. his eyes are observing the empty rooftop you’ve been staying on for the past few minutes. that is before he turns his body to head towards his usual seat on the rooftop: right across from you.

sitting down there is heeseung. the boy who sits behind you as he has his shirt uniform opened, exposing a grey t-shirt underneath. in his hand is a folded paper as he lets go of the backpack and lets it rest beside his figure. prominent scarring shows on his cheek, a straight line from one side of the cheek to the other. it’s strange to not see him with his earbuds on. but with the frantic flick of his eyes, looking around the rooftop before the sound of the people leaving the premises of the school campus, he seemed to think of something differently.

then, he met your eyes. they trail down to peer the rest of your face before going down more to your bandaged hand. your eyes still continue to stare at his scar before you glimpse at the note in his hand. your lip twitches before meeting his eyes once again, a look of recognition in his eyes.

it didn’t take him long to stand up and grab his backpack by the handle on top. his footsteps getting closer and he now stands beside you. dropping his backpack carefully, he lets his back lean against the wall before sliding down. the song continue to play in your headset as you push the pause button, expecting something when he also turns his head. his face reflects of yours, in a state of wounded as he pouted his lips; calculating the words he would like to speak about.

“i-“ he paused as he put his hand in his pant pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper before opening it, showing the inside to him before he pushes his hand so you can see it.

“did you write this?” he asked in a mumble, yet still loud enough for you to catch on. you glance down at the writing in the note, the handwritten style reflects your own.

“yeah.” you exhaled. your fingers moving on their own as you rub the bandage on your fingers. soothing yourself with the unexpected nerve as you caught onto heeseung’s light gasp? awe? you can’t describe it. then, the chuckles came. the same chuckle you heard on your first day in class. yet, it’s more carefree. authentic compared to the one in class when it seemed so forced. a chuckle that came out freely instead of fear and obedience.

“i, i thought that they knew about this place...” heeseung replied, rubbing his face with his hand before soothing himself, massaging his creased forehead before lifting his head once again. he turned to you, the corner of his lips falling down as the emotion changed in a flicker of his blinking eyes.

“how do you know about...?” the boy tidies himself up, putting the note alongside his own walkman on his stretched thighs.

“i just felt it, you know? though they aren’t as prevalent as what i endure in school.” you started. you lean your chest to your folded legs, arms around the front of your feet as you hug yourself, head turning towards heeseung. “i, uh, also heard what happened to you today. the consulting room.”

you picked up the smack of skin and a woman screaming from the room beside yours. you’ve been in that room before, mostly talking about how you were adapting to the new environment and how the school explained converting your scores from your previous high school. points are connecting in your head: the side profiles of the boys you’ve seen and what happened, noticing that one of them was not with them. and you conclude it.

the boy nibbles on his bottom lip, gnawing on the skin as he shifts his head to look towards you. “i’m sorry you hear that.” your eyes widen at his answer but you didn’t account for the next words out too.

“and i’m sorry that i didn’t stop what happened to you this morning.”

the memories of today seem more like the past. the endurance you have to exert on yourself, knowing deep down that no one can’t even sympathize with you. but his words tell you that someone saw you being beaten by them. well, you aren’t surprised that heeseung can’t intervene. fighting against seona will be as bad as fighting back against eunho for him. they are linked somehow. you don’t know how. romantically? emotion-wise? ideology?

you let out a small scoff as you sensed your headset fallen down to your nape. your hands reaching it to adjust it better, but you can still see the number changing on the little screen on heeseung’s own walkman. the words are nudging you again and again, especially as you turn back to examine your own numbers against the afternoon sun.

“what music are you listening to?”

it’s heeseung’s turn now with his eyebrows raised. pressing the pause button and a rewind, he pulls out one bud of his earbuds before pushing the button down. the lid opens up as you peer down at him stretching his hand with the walkman. inside is a gleaming green tint cd, a picture of what looks like a lone tree with the moon behind it. the white outline of it is right at the centre of the cd. you read the words etched onto the cd.

“moonstruck,” he said, reading the word to you. you take a peek at him, looking down at the cd with the corner of his mouth lifting before widens into both corners.

“it’s the cd that made me get caught. that made all of this happen,” he says with a tense grit on his jaw before it loosens as he slowly caresses the cd with his thumb. his fingertip brushes against the name. “i still don’t know why miss kang just bought it for me at the end.”

you know, he was mumbling at this point. but you didn’t care. heeseung has always seemed to be someone a bit more timid in his rambunctious gang of boys. reluctant to do things, but you still see a shine in his eyes on something he enjoyed. one of them was in the first physical education class you have in woonmyung high school. he had a liking towards the half-court basketball, though his build isn’t in the optimal shape for it. the same class you were cornered by seona, risoo, and the girls for the first time in the bleachers of the gymnasium. coach kim disappears for that little window of time just enough for them to do their thing to you.

“can i listen to it?” you mutter.

heeseung’s hand seemed to give an answer before he spoke it. he pinches the cable of the bud towards you as you grab it with your own fingers. pulling the bud and pushing it into your ear-hole, you notice the other end of the bud still in his ear. he closes the lid as the cd whirls on. the little screen shows the track playing back from track number 1. the sound of a synth yet it resembles a woodwind instrument comes to your mind. the steady percussion creates the anchor for you to relax. then the music expands: introducing a whirling sound that contrasts the soft instruments and vocals, creating a whimsy and relaxing mood.

looking back at the boy, you find him already looking at you. a small smile etched on his face as his eyes flutter shut with how magical the song sounds. the voice coming from the various instruments creates colours in each of your ears. colours that form together as it continues. its colours combined with the light of the sky shining down on both of you. serenity achieved in such a simple way: to find the right moment or material that reflects it. the song continues as it familiarizes with your own mind, feeling your heartbeat slowing down as it counts along the beats of the track.

“this is her second album. breathe. her fans on the space station identify this album to have a green celeste. her previous one, windswept, is more creamy.” heeseung started, saying words that seemed so out of context for you if you don’t listen to the whole context of it.

“what is celeste?” you caught on.

the boy chuckles as he strokes his hair gently, “the station or what i can call the forum for moonstruck fans doesn’t define it. but i interpret it more as a feeling where art makes you feel like you're in another realm of reality. a realm where you can just... be you. getting away just for a moment of whatever you define your reality as.” his reply makes you shift your head, eyebrows raised as you subconsciously pout with his profound answer.

“i could say that that’s the reason i listen to music so much.” you lift your walkman to show to heeseung. “a form of therapy through letting your senses be overwhelmed by one thing before it spreads into your mind. from the lyrics to the melody, and all that.”

heeseung continues to chuckle, yet it still has the same earnest tone you’ve heard of today. as the track changes many times, you and heeseung stay quiet and take in the day as it is nearing its end. sun approaching closer to the horizon before sinking past it. your upper body rests against the wall with your knees still tucked to your sitting figure, hugging yourself as you lean your head back and let the songs come in. in your imagination, you could see a full moon with a glowing green colour. the green colour that resembles more on vitality, health, and a path to safety.

glancing beside you, heeseung is also doing the same thing. his black hair swept against the little gush of wind. its sound creates a more authentic listening experience with the music playing in one ear and nature’s music in the other. combining all the colours together in creating, not an explosion, but more of a blend that still shows each strand of colour yet it's still intact. its colours appear before you and heeseung, floating into the sky as it dances around you.

for the first time in a long time, you have felt less lonely.

but the ringtone of the phone ruins everything.

heeseung pulls out his phone, seeing and hearing it vibrate against his palm. its piercing and different melody clashes with the ones that are formed from what you both heard. yet, as you turn your head to see him, you find him looking down at the vibrating device before taking a long, deep breath. reaching out, you press the pause button on the walkman as the sound of the ringtone fills the surrounding air. his finger reaches for the button that is going to answer the clock. however, he flicks his eyes and meets yours. all you could do is pout. you were having a good time getting into the fourth track before it rang, shattering the atmosphere.

you wanted to grab the phone and hold it back, not letting him succumb to answer it. but, finding the name “eunho” on the screen makes chills run down your spine. the realization that even with this boy beside you were also being tormented—from the boys gathering as they listened to heeseung’s consultation to the harsh words you gathered outside of the classroom door that makes you hesitate to step inside—he is still a bully somehow. he is still responsible for making someone’s life harder, taking into account the story of this very cd that was once stolen but is now bought.

the boy presses the button and puts the phone by his ear.

“hello?” his voice turns monotone. much more different from when he was telling you about moonstruck. “ok.” he exhales. “i’ll be there.”

the call ends as you already grab the bud out of your ear. you push your hands on the floor as you stand up alongside heeseung. grabbing each of your backpacks respectively before tugging the strap to your back, you face against him. both of your hands holding onto your walkman as he wrapped his earbuds wire along the outside of his own music player.

after putting both straps on your shoulder, you catch a short ringtone playing from your own phone. looking at it as you tuck it out from the pocket, you see the familiar name of seona written on the screen. heeseung seems to notice it too and the way your eyebrows furrowed.

yet you still give him a small smile.

“bring her other releases too. i am very interested,” you replied, stepping away from him backwards before you give him a small wave before disappearing into the door to the school floors, leaving heeseung behind, who is also growing a small smile on his face.

-

《do any of you ever wonder how powerful moonstruck’s creations are?》 《it helps me get through tough times》 《from: bambi

《i relate to whatever you say, bambi》 《because it helps me too》 《from: silver

《ever since i discovered her》 《her celeste got me to go through many things in life》 《even hard times》 《from: pearl

《can you elaborate more on that aspect, pearl?》 《from: bambi

《well, i think it is pretty common nowadays》 《when people are pointing out how wrong you are living your life when you are just... be》 《that no matter what you go through, you’ll always find someone who will make your life harder in whatever way》 《moonstruck’s songs help me escape from that and i heal myself through hearing her》 《that there is someone there who can relate to whatever thoughts and emotions i’m having》 《i want to have that》 《that celeste》 《as a shield to protect myself even tougher》 《from: pearl

《well, as the owner, you have been doing well, pearl!》 《from: 1004

《agree》 《i could sense celeste exuding from even this small space in this forum alone》 《from: silver

《thank you for that 1004 and silver》 《from: pearl

《well, thank you for telling your story, pearl》 《i haven’t known someone who is facing the same thing as i do》 《from: bambi

《thank you so much, bambi :) 》 《i believe that we are not truly alone》 《from: pearl

the world gets lonely. the presence that was imprinted in his life ever since he was little is shedding away with the lack of enthusiasm helping to push it out of the other reasons. with every step he takes when going to school named after the word “fate”, it feels like a droplet of himself seeps out from his soles and blanks him more. every drag of the cigarette he takes now that he has to search for more things to cope with, literally and figuratively, sucks a section of your lifetime away.

yet, as of now, heeseung felt less lonely. his backpack is heavier than last week’s as the sound of the plastic hits one another with a mini clank sound he could hear. he uses his long legs to skip two stairs at a time, wanting to flee from the boys’ presence as fast as he can—especially with the little meeting they have in the first recess that is making everything much more complicated. all he needs is his now newly injected dose of serenity: the one hour at lunchtime which has passed the entire week. and the company he has that elevates the entire experience.

his hand pushes open the door to the rooftop, being met with the gusts of wind that make him a tad shivering. yet, taking a few steps in front, he turns his body to the side of his little spot on the rooftop. you’re already there with your legs stretched out, your skirt covered enough of your limbs as you have your headset on while putting the spoon in your lunch box. lifting your head up, his figure obscured you from the sunlight and yet you still give him a smile. the scar on your nose is all gone but he now sees a leftover of a bruised shin, a similar occurrence that he also has with his bruised knees that nearly rips the cloth of his pants.

crouching down even with the pain, he settles down on the spot he called his now beside you. your hands already lifting your headset off as you wait while heeseung untangled the wires from his earbud. placing it gently on your open palm, heeseung then turns to his backpack as he unzips it to reach for one of the cd case inside. pulling the item he grab, he finds the windswept word written in front with the cover of the moon that stand behind a woman reflected on a body of water. pressing the eject button, the lid opens as he carefully put cd inside, not wanting to scratch it. the boy felt the tug from the earbud he already insert into his own ear as the scrapping noise continues, making him press the play as to not make you wait any longer. the familiar sound of synth combines with waves enter both of your ears at the same time as heeseung leans back against the wall.

this is the serenity that he has been craving. listening to his favourite musician in a quiet location with someone who won’t judge him. the backpack rests beside his outstretched legs that rest beside yours. his eyes find the moon showing up in the afternoon sun. the half moon shape is split right down the middle. that’s when he felt the slight icy touch on his forearm to shift and saw you pushing out your lunch box, rubbing your tummy with your other hand. you have been making heeseung finished your lunch recently and as someone who always got his lunch money stolen; he is satisfied with how his stomach could be satisfied even with just a few spoonfuls of food.

and that is all that he has done for the past week. sitting beside you while hearing moonstruck’s song from her time in her former band, nexus, until the recent ones as he shares with you the moonstruck trivia you always asked about: “what is this song about?” “interesting use of synths there, what does that imply?” after eating lunch, he pulled out a cigarette box and a box of matches. pulling through the filter, he inhales as the fire lights the end of the blunt and the familiar smoke pushes out of his lips. he didn’t expect for you to snatch the cigarette and take an inhale yourself. and now it has become another thing that you both share with each other.

heeseung swallowed the last of your food before he cleared it with his water. words forming in his mind like it is a normal occurrence from the week you have. yet, because he had known you for a week, he felt like he could be more truthful about things to talk about. clearing his throat, he pushes himself to speak.

“i’m glad that i’m here with you.”

“hmm?” you turned your head to face him, eyes squarely on him as he flicks his to see you.

“you don’t... make fun of me for sharing about moonstruck.” his usual steady tone shrinks in volume as he finishes his sentence. your hand reaches for the lunch box. his movement paused when he looked back at you. yet you never step away. you stayed beside him, even scooting closer to him as if to tell him that, yes, you are here to listen. you’re glad you are here too...

“where do we start...” heeseung said after the sigh, recollecting all the similar scars adorning both of your visible limbs and how he remembers how got nearly all of it on him. “i treat music as an escapism from everything that happened, you know?”

you hummed along.

“my life is... jumbled. if i have to describe it in one sentence. most of the actions i do are for my survival.” he glances at you from the corners of his eyes. “you must be thinking that i’m crazy for even being friends with the people that make me grit my teeth in pain all the time. but that is survival.” the boy doesn’t want to spill everything about himself, just the minor part of his that he assumes you might relate with.

“if i don’t stick with them, it’ll be harsher. many other students were also threatened by them and-“

“and yet, you’re still the one hurting more.”

heeseung pauses himself as you cut through. the words already formed on his tongue dissipate in an instant with the utmost authentic response. you sigh and blink rapidly before you open your lips, “i’ve seen how they treat you. the lowest among them.”

his eyebrows furrowed, making him think back on the various memories and bruises on his body. “well, you’re wr-“

“they asked you for your money. eunho and his cronies. that’s why you bring no lunch. that’s why they tease you so much and even bring your family into it. that’s why you have to shoplift a moonstruck cd.”

“how in the hell did you know they mentioned my family?” it’s his turn to interject, making you turn your head as your foot touches his right beside it.

“i heard it. last week. that day you received my note.”

he remembers how you were the first person he saw when the class’s back door opened by the cupboard lockers. the rush as the boys seemed to stop whatever they were doing and leave heeseung be with his backpack.

“i was in the infirmary when you were called to the consulting room. the wall is so thin that i could hear what you’re discussing. i noticed your boys standing by the door of the room. and i watched them watch you.”

the boy’s nose flared as he looked down at his lap and yet the music continued with soft, repeating notes from the guitar. added more to the atmosphere of the talk.

“i’ve seen how they treat you. i experienced the same thing, and it is...” your voice trembles as you blink another set rapidly, catching on that your eyes seemed to glisten and reflect the sunlight more.

“it’s such an overwhelming feeling to find someone who you can relate to, especially since i’m always been more of the black sheep in any of the schools i went to.” you rub your hand against your skirt-covered thigh. “the rumours and all and i got the brunt of it. it’s why i wear such an old and dirty backpack. my parents look like they’re rich but never even make a room for that rich look for me. i feel both visible and invisible at the same time.”

“i felt that too. i can say that my parents are more focused on themselves and my baby brother now and not me. i know that they had me young but i just felt much and much more invisible when i came back home,” heeseung added, scooting himself closer as his words covered the incoming groan from when he noticed the ache again.

“yet, here we are...” you conclude. he hums to reply, earning a small smile from you as the music continues. minutes left before the bell rings that is interrupted by the sms jingle ringing. your phone was not trembling but heeseung’s was. he looks down to read the text and adorns the neutral facial expression once again. his resting face has a little frown on it.

“duty calls...” heeseung says exasperatedly, making you give a thin-lipped smile as you hear the groan coming from him as he tugs his backpack on one shoulder. he pushes his hand on the floor before pushing himself with the force and against the wall behind him. that’s when he sensed something touching his waist before he looked down, finding a pair of arms from beside him to see you pressing too tightly but effective in making him stand up. he gasped in pain, making you take your hands off of him as he stood up. yet, you still clutch the walkman in your hand. the earbuds still connecting as you stood face to face with him.

you still have your own walkman left on the floor by your backpack. yet, you didn’t make any remark about the wires connecting both of you as you say hastily.

“leave them be.” your eyebrows furrowed. the music continues to play as the boy looks at you and at the walkman in your hands. the both of you were only near the first half of the album and with the little tap on the flowy skirt, he could see how much you’re enjoying it.

but, more things come to heeseung all at once. if he stayed here until the bell rang, they would hunt him down. then they will find you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. he doesn’t want to ruin this blossoming friendship. this sanctuary aura of this rooftop for both you and him. escaping even for a few minutes to collect yourself physically and mentally. the sanctity that is your presence and the connection.

he has to set boundaries about all of this.

“i got to go,” he mumbled before meeting your eyes, searching for any sincerity in it. and with that, you pull the earbud and give it back to him. you nodded your head before crouching down to gather all your items into your backpack quickly. and then you give him another small smile before you take the steps to leave the premises of your area. turning your body and noticing how it is gone from the walls. leaving him alone instead, yet with a warmth that even helps with his abdomen injury.

-

sliding down onto the rooftop’s floor, you look across from yourself to find no one. the gush of wind sent shivers down your spine as you sighed, continuing to listen to the music blasting in your ears as you unzip your backpack to pull out your lunch box. the familiar loneliness blankets you once again.

for the past few days, you were alone here. the silhouette of heeseung’s recognizable body didn’t anchor on this very place for the seventh day. at first, your eyes widen and flicker at the empty concrete floor by the half wall. maybe he had been late because of something. a meeting with miss kang about his scores or eunho getting on to him once again. yet, as time goes by and you look down at the clock by the school gate with its long hand nearing the 12th number, the bell ring startles you as you hurry to pack up your belongings. the wire of the headset dangling as you continue to walk downstairs; hoping the heeseung would come to the rooftop on the next day.

yet, as the next day comes by, he isn’t on the rooftop. it repeats all over for the next week, the way your heart aches as you don’t know what happened to him. you haven’t shared your phone number with him even though having the innovation of sms on your beck and call, yet your stupid mind didn’t think about it. once again, you sat alone as you opened the lid of the box. the aroma of spicy ddeok hits you as it clears your sinuses. a shelter against the winds of spring.

then, you turn your head.

the shadow of the rooftop door opens as you catch the scratches of someone stepping onto the concrete. eyes enlarged. you meet the boy’s face. his expression neutral borderline fury with his squinting eyes, those eyes that relaxed as he saw you as the wrinkle between his eyebrows contracted.

your heartbeat marches the way he takes his step, his hand holding onto one strap of the backpack on his shoulder. the top three buttons of his uniform make the white undershirt peek out. he steps in front of your sitting body as your head follows, each step he takes mimics yours as if he has learned about it when you come to the rooftop right after him. the rustling increases as he stands at his designated place, pulling off the backpack before sliding down against the wall. the boy turns his head, finding you with your lips in a straight line. eyes flicker to gaze around his face, reading what he wants to say. though, instead of speaking out about why he had disappeared for the last week, worrying more if he had received a fresh wound that you also have at your extremities. he let out a huge exhale and spoke.

“we should stop meeting up here.”

“what?” you interject, “why?”

heeseung’s eyes glance at his fingers playing with each other before speaking, “i’m worried about all of this. how we meet up. how-“

“you’re tumbling over your words, heeseung.” your eyebrows furrowed. before you are the sight of something familiar. something your parents have every time they announce that the family will move once again—making you reset everything that you had done to survive school. deceitfulness flickers in his eyes before it is outshined by a sparkle, gritting his teeth. “tell me the truth-“

“eunho found out about this whole thing. how i escape going from him to go to the rooftop instead of being by his side and tormenting other people.” his voice is a little hoarse as he takes a deep breath. the boy’s head droops towards his chest. “if eunho comes here and you’re here also, you will be the target of the day and, and i just can’t see you being tormented for me with your,” he opens his palm, pointing towards you with the fading scars on your arms and legs to how you have a bandage on your kneecap, the blood wanting to seep through the cotton.

“i can’t...” he looks forward once again, “i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

the silence after his revelation startles you into being a statue. the music continues to blare in your ears as it is a mishmash of instruments playing above and below each other. you nodded your head, hearing heeseung’s breath as you continued to trail down his body. the blazer tied around his waist enables you to see the scars littering his forearm. faded yet will be another mark on his skin that he will have to get used to.

but, you shake your head. it starts slow. one cycle of shaking from left to right. then it gets more and more, quicker, and heeseung can’t help but notice before you stop yourself. the muscles around your neck straining from the movement that had you close your eyes, slowly opening the lids as the blurriness meets the sunshine.

“you don’t have to obey them.” your gut pushes you to say, eyes flicking to his side. not wanting to face his features overall. “but, if it means that today will be the last time we will hang out with each other, then grant me one last wish, heeseung.”

your right hand curls into a fist before straightening once again. you gaze at your lunch box. the food is only eaten halfway before you get interrupted. well, you never finished your lunch anyway these days. it was only cleanly empty when heeseung helped to finish it.

“after school, let’s go to seoul. just the two of us. away from here. away from...” you gulped down your saliva before opening your arms wide, capturing the wholeness of the situation you and he are both in. dropping them instantly, you brace yourself and shift your head to meet his. you guessed that you’ll meet disgust.

why are you suggesting that when i’m staying away from you for your own safety?

yet you can see the glint in his eyes. his neutral face has his cupid’s bow lifted even slightly before he chuckled and looked down on his lap.

“after school. meet me near the corner shop.”

“good.” you lifted your lunch box and handed it to him, “eat it up. you got to have energy for any activities that we want to do.”

giggles ring out from both him and you as you continue to listen to your music, looking at heeseung, who picks up the chopsticks before pausing. he looks straight at your walkman for a few seconds before he picks up the food and eats it. picking up your belongings, heeseung gazes upwards at your now-standing body, hugging your cd walkman close to your chest.

“bring the lunch box back to me when we meet up.” you remind him as he hums, savouring the lunch as he still watches you. chuckles come out of you as you step backwards to turn your body when it is in line with the door of the rooftop. the echoes of your footsteps are loud enough for heeseung to hear until it is far enough to disappear.

the rest of the class in the afternoon, you fidget with your pencil as you feel the familiar soft hit on your body. the crumpled paper falls down onto the floor as you let out a silent exhale, picking the ball of paper in your fist as you tuck it into your desk drawer. letting it join the rest of the crumpled ball of paper that you got more times than you could imagine. curiously, you shift your head as if looking for something or maybe someone who threw you the ball—which you already know is seona, risoo, or the other two girls. but you do that to take a glimpse of heeseung. his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he had both his forearms and elbows on the table. his eyes catch yours as you see the look on his face you awfully recognise.

the same emotion you always let out when you gaze at his fresh wounds.

walking out of the school gate as fast as you can after the last class ends, you blend in with the rest of the students that are flowing out from the school grounds. yet, instead of the usual walk towards your house, you turn to the corner shop from the first junction you meet. tugging your blazer off, you felt shivers on your exposed skin making you hiss. the bruises that you had there are still visible as you press your skin with two of your fingers. you’ve experienced itchiness so much when you are wounded and you found a remedy for that instead of scratching your skin until it bruises up again. you slowly tap on it, letting the blood flow through the veins and arteries and soothe your skin from the itchiness.

folding your blazer and put on the outdoor table alongside your backpack, you untucked your shirt out from beneath your clothes, creating a much more baggy look you like more on yourself. zipping the backpack up after putting on your blazer instead, you see the recognizable silhouette approaching closer and closer. the corner of your lips lifted as the shadow recedes to let you recognize the person.

“hey,” heeseung greets as he joins you and puts his backpack on the table beside yours. zipping open the backpack, he pulls out the lunch box before giving it to you and replaces it with his blazer, making you have to arrange your belongings once again as you take a peek at him unbuttoning the rest of his uniform shirt, the undershirt becoming more prominent with its area size and contrasting colour.

“let’s go before anyone catches us,” you reminded him as both of you put your backpacks on your backs respectively. you tug your phone inside your skirt’s pocket alongside the smart card you still hold on to, especially after living in the seoul area even with the many times you have to move.

the walk to the commuter train station heading to seoul isn’t that far. both of you stand by on the platform as you wait for the train to approach. you and heeseung stand side by side. your appearance with your untidy uniforms makes you both unrecognisable from which high school you two are from compared to the other students who still have their uniforms on them tidy. the rumble on the ground followed by the gush comes along with the train that now stops in front of you. many of the seats on the train are empty as you suspect that the train heading the opposite direction into your town and beyond is much busier with people getting back home to their families. yet, well, for you, you planned to stay as long as possible outside, maybe until the sun sets for another day.

sitting down on the seat, the door closes as the train moves on the track. heeseung sat right beside you as you gazed at the window behind the empty seat across from you. the sight of the fields shining green alongside the spring weather calms your eyesight. the constant sound of the wheels on the tracks creates a steady noise from you that even makes you relax enough to go into a meditative state. eyes open yet hooded to not let the muscles strain, darting to an ever-changing view of the clear weather.

the view changes from the fields to the buildings, before the tracks get covered by walls as the train goes underground. the light inside the car that was on before becomes more prominent. from the few stations the train has gone past, many people have come and gone. yet a small amount of them were sitting near where you and heeseung sit, both beside the two of you and on opposite seats. with the train moving around from side to side and all, one side of you is now stuck beside heeseung. skin on skin touch as you looked down to check on your backpack. lifting your head to the window now with the wall behind it, you find your reflection instead under the interior light. heeseung nods a little of his head alongside the music he is playing. behind the clear plastic part of the walkman, you recognized the breathe album of moonstruck. yet, you didn’t want to ask him about it like you used to.

after all, this is the last time you’ll be with him.

the train announces its arrival at the next station and you hear a stomach roaring. shifting your head, you looked down at heeseung, who had a hand on his abdomen. the rumbling sound still can pierce through the noisy train. his adam’s apple gulps when you raise your sight to meet his. a look of indifference meets with sheepishness that only he communicated with his eyes. you heard the next station announced once again as you felt the train slow down. your arm that was resting on your thigh grabs onto the nearest one of his as you pull his hand and backpack at the same time.

“getting off here?” he asks an obvious question as you tug one of the backpack straps on your shoulder. both of you now standing in front of the door.

“i know a place,” you replied as the door opened and both of you walked out of the train car.

the steps of the stairs added more to heeseung’s hunger as its sound echoed against the winding hallway towards the road. arriving there, you scan the surroundings that you are familiar with. one of the neighbourhoods near your old house from your last year of middle school that has everything. it has changed little from what you remember, only the appearances of fresh signs you haven’t seen to signs that were there that have vanished. the right amount of modern and traditional living at the same time with the lack of franchises. the sound of the zipper catches your attention as heeseung only holds his backpack before he places his hand back in yours like when you both traverse the way to the exit. scanning for the last time, you find a familiar street with a few of your favourite eateries as you gently pull him.

the shops you went by are mostly restaurants that have a bigger portion or price. knowing heeseung and your situation with how you both share foods, you can’t pick something too expensive even if it is making you both full. that is when you heard a small gasp coming from heeseung as you both arrived at your destination. it is filled with people but still has some seating room, especially a table that overlooks the street it is on. but when you turn your head, you catch heeseung’s wide eyes looking at the colourful packages inside on the shelves—predominantly red.

numerous packages of ramyeon from different brands. heeseung’s jaw dropped clear with the small gap between his lips as you could also feel your saliva gathering from the delicious food. you eyed a package of neoguri inside as an older woman helped to pick it up for the customer inside before said customer paid and went to the counter beside it with kitchenware from stove to knives.

you knew this place because you had walked past it before. but the reason you visited this place is the affinity the boy beside you has for ramyeon. you have caught on to the way he ate half of your lunch when it is ramyeon. how concentrated he is when he is eating it and how he drinks all the broth until it is spotless. with seoul and its modern antics, you knew that this would be a perfect place for heeseung to fill his appetite. and by his reaction, you’re right.

ringing comes from above the open door that heeseung pushed as you trail behind in to step into the store. the various smells of different brands of ramyeon waft the air inside the interior as steam can escape through the opening above the door and large window. the old woman behind the counter greets you as heeseung still looks behind at the shelves with any ramyeon he could ask for.

“um, can i get one shin ramyeon and one egg, please?” heeseung uttered his order first as the woman picked up said ramyeon and the egg in one swoop before placing it before heeseung.

“you’re both together?” the woman asks, picking up two pots and two sets of chopsticks. your eyes widened when you realized she referred to you, even though you stood behind heeseung. said boy turning his head as he points with his head movement.

“uh yes, ahjumeo-nim. um...” you marked the piece of neoguri that you’d been eyeing when you both stood behind the window, outside looking in.

“can i get the neoguri, please?”

“of course,” the woman says as she picks up the exact neoguri package and puts it inside the pot before you, right beside heeseung's. “any drinks you both want?”

“i would like a cider,” the boy replies.

“me too,” you added as the woman grabbed the two sprite cans and placed them alongside both of you. she eyed your order and told you the price. you looked at heeseung as you just remembered you didn’t bring your wallet—the fear of your money being picked up by seona and the others bubbling inside as you have experienced it before your second day in woonmyung high school. shifting your head, you instead found heeseung crouching down on the floor, opening his backpack as all you can see is the void before he pulls out 1000 won for both of your orders.

“thank you, young man. you cook your ramyeon on that side where we have the water jug and stoves for both of you. after finishing, move from the stove so that other customers can cook theirs too.”

“thank you, ahjumeo-nim,” both of you said together as you picked up the pan with the handles on each side. carrying it to the vacant stove right beside heeseung’s. setting it down on the stove, you pick up the jug to fill the pot according to your liking when you cook neoguri. the sound of the stove turning rings before you as you see the blueish-orange fire heating the water. turning your head, you find heeseung pouring the water into the jug carefully; measuring it with his eyes.

the boy then goes away for a bit as you observe the two boiling waters for cooking the noodles. then, heeseung returns with a bowl before placing it on the counter and cracking the egg in it. using his chopsticks in each hand, he breaks the egg yolk and mixes it up with both chopsticks twisting around in different paths.

“you’re making egg ramyeon?” his ear seemed to twitch as you could see that he was looking at it from the corner of his eyes.

“yeah. it’s my recipe for egg ramyeon- shit, almost forgot.” he drops the chopsticks as it leans against the bowl before he picks up the packet for the ramyeon seasoning and shakes it. his action makes you let out a pout as you did the same while ripping the packet and pouring your neoguri seasoning into the boiling water. heeseung follows before putting the empty packet on the ramyeon packaging beside the noodles waiting to be dumped in.

glancing at heeseung—who is still continuing to break his ramyeon—you dump your noodles inside your pot before stepping sideways so that you can step behind heeseung. grabbing the noodle on top of the package, you carefully put it inside the heeseung’s pot as you can’t help but touch his back because of it. his shoulders feel warm and comfortable even with that slide graze as you slip away as fast as you can because you have to stir your ramyeon so the noodles separate and cook evenly.

stirring the pot with your chopsticks, you glance at heeseung’s side to find him pausing for a few bits from stirring before he continues gently, stunned by your action that makes you a tad giddy inside.

“thanks,” he asks.

“no problem.” you eyed him and gave a small smile as you looked at his pot. one of his hands holding onto the chopstick as the other held the beaten egg-filled bowl.

“this makes it delicious.” heeseung declared as he felt you leaning in from your side. both of you looking at him gently flipping the bowl as the egg pours into the boiling soup. you eyed as the egg disappeared before, one by one, they all floated back to the surface. like clouds surrounding one side of the pot. you can’t help to look at heeseung’s face, finding the familiar determined expression alongside a little smirk on his lips, eyeing the noodles that he will devour when it is done cooking. you could hear your own stomach rumbling now as you looked at the mouth-watering sight of both of ramyeon getting cooked.

turning the knob for the stove, you picked up the handle so you don’t touch the hot wall of the pot before placing your ramyeon on the table overlooking the window. it snugs in the small part of the window where only two seats are available as you pick the seat that overlooks the street outside. the sound of the thud of your backpack hits the floor as you sit down, waiting for heeseung to settle down with his own belongings. the steam flies up from both of your pots as you mix the noodles and broth when a topic propels you to speak.

“can i try a bit of your ramyeon?”

the boy turns his head, a small smile growing on his face as he drops his backpack, “if i could also try yours.”

“deal.”

with your chopsticks, you pick up some of his noodles as he nudges the egg for you, making sure you pick it up. gently, you brought the ramyeon into your mouth as the hot temperature seems to be the right recipe to combat the wind that has been blowing you up. then, the spices came with the cooked egg neutralizing it.

“hmm!” you reacted, peeking at the boy who still had his smile as he picked up some neoguri noodles from your pot. nodding your head, you react to how perfectly the way the shin ramyeon melted on your tongue.

“it’s not overcooked. the noodle.”

“yeah, that’s why i have to get the right amount for the water,” he replies before slurping the neoguri like you do. carefully pushing the kelp slice in as he chewed and let out a groan. “yours are good too,” he replied whilst covering his lips, not wanting his saliva to fly everywhere.

“yours is better.” you answered as you opened your can of cider before taking a gulp down. “you cooked ramyeon often?”

he wipes his lips with a napkin provided on the table as he opens his mouth and closes it again, hesitating.

“i, uh...” he tried to stop himself from chuckling before continuing, “i had to, honestly.”

“oh?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah...” heeseung closes his eyes, giving a push so that it covers tightly before opening, “i don’t have that much pocket money with all with eunho but...” he lets out a silent sigh, “also with my parents as well.”

a pout forms on your lips as you both devour your ramyeons respectively, you’re facing the window as you observe people living their lives, still reserving your hearing for heeseung’s story which you remain quiet so he can speak at his own pace. because you understand that. no one has ever stopped to listen to you before, so you want to do that to others as well. hopefully.

“my parents are still together, but it’s just, they had me young. like our age.” heeseung uses his pointer finger to move to point between himself and you, “and they’re in their 30s and i’m a teenager, and i have a newborn little brother. and they...”

the boy slurps up a few noodles before using the spoon to drink the broth, letting out a satisfying sigh before his expression returns, “well, the consequence of having young parents is that they aren’t fully ‘grown up’ when they have me.” he drops his hand from making the air quotes. “so i grew up with parents who had fun. so much fun. i was five when i stumbled upon them arriving home as i was getting a drink from the kitchen. they had this wretched scent on them that when i grew up, i realized it was alcohol and weed smell.”

you glimpse at him, your head twisted towards him to let you know that you’ve been listening the whole time. “so, i don’t grow up with much care from them. had to resort to ramyeon to satisfy my need. but i grew up, and they also grew up. their jobs become even more stable. and then my mom got pregnant again last year. and so, heechan was born. my little brother.”

taking a breather for himself as he eats. you rub your hand on your head—feeling along with the frustration that you can assume will get worse as he continues.

“they have a stable income now and my baby brother was born and i just can notice the difference. heechan got new things and is coddled because he is that young which i acknowledge. but, my parents took care of him, and seemed to, i guess, forget about me. like they are a trio of family, the real family, and i was just there. like a fucking mistake they had no choice but to give money to so that at least i don’t fucking die in their care.” he lets out a scoff and shakes his head, thinking of how ridiculous it must be to be jealous of a fucking baby.

“so, i had no choice but to resort to ramyeon almost all the time until someone back home made enough homemade food. parents give me a good amount of pocket money but...” his eyes move to capture yours in contact, “you know who i am friends with.”

you nod your head, continuing to eat as your creased eyebrows area still hasn’t gone relaxing once again. the way the boy seemed to let go of a bit of control in the middle makes another squeeze of your heart clear. neglection is the topic that bruises you as you have your fair share of neglection as well.

“well, you made killer ramyeons though, heeseung. and you should know about that.” he giggles at your statement, before letting out a small ‘thank you’ as you both continue to eat.

his words stuck in your mind as it is such a familiar story, albeit with the different details of yours; you noted that both of you are different sides of the same coin. yet, the awkward silence lingers between the two of you as you finish both of your meals—knowing just how bleak your situation is because you don’t know how to reply to his words. in pity? empathic? you don’t know. as you take another sip of your neoguri broth, only a few millimetres are left inside the pot as you can see the bottom of its surface. you glance at heeseung’s pot to find it also emptied before looking up to meet his face. even with a slight gesture with your head nodding to the door, he catches your thinking and nods his head.

you stack up his pot onto yours and help clean the table where you both eat as the boy stands beside you waiting, but you feel his gaze on you as you finish up. the breeze of the open air hits you as you step outside the restaurant, your mind determining the way to go as you catch the footsteps of heeseung following right behind you. it takes a few strides before heeseung can keep up with your pace, both of you walking side by side with nowhere to go except the direction you picked. but, the silence lets you enjoy more of what this part of seoul has. even if you aren’t here that much when you move in near the neighbourhood, it is still the most peaceful neighbourhood you’ve been to.

turning your head side by side randomly, your eyes caught onto one store as your movement paused. heeseung, who was still walking, had turned his head to see your stopped figure, before returning to stand beside you. then, he realizes what stopped you.

you strolled forward one foot at a time before stepping onto the step that houses the door that you had to push open. a smooth jazz song plays as you step into the room. the walls are a mix of plain painted alongside one that is just collages of musician posters. racks stand at the centre of the room, housing pressed vinyl discs covered with sleeves of colourful pictures. it’s different from those large cd stores you visited when you searched for the next disc to play on your walkman. smaller, intimate. yet, the aura is still familiar to you.

the people who are walking are mostly older than you, showing the generation and technology differences between you and them. most of the sleeves you’ve seen are of genres you rarely listened to. jazz, soul, funk. and then you approached the rock and alternative section and you found artists you’ve recognized. it is ordered in the alphabet but certain musicians have a section based on them, even based on one of their releases. a certain album caught your eye, bigger than what you used to see.

“hmm...” you chuckle as you pick up the sleeve from the rack, letting you observe the people sitting down on the sofa with the black background.

“the cranberries?” heeseung reads the name, now standing beside you, leaning to look at the album you are holding. you turned the sleeve around to read the recognizable tracklist.

“i own the cd for this album. i maybe played it so much that if i don’t take care of it, it might have scratches.” you chuckle as you trace the list of songs with your fingertip, stopping on each song as you can hear the certain tune playing from your memory.

“music has been the only thing that kept me grounded throughout all of this.” you blink away when you feel the strain from staying eye contact for a long time, finding the boy beside you from the corner of your eyes. “you know, from moving around so much and with the situation i am in.”

“how many times have you moved?” heeseung questioned, his hands also reaching out to study the rack in front of him.

“much more than you can imagine. it started in fourth grade and every year since then, i moved around. mostly throughout seoul and the towns near it. that is before we had to get farther out and that is why i moved to woonmyung for my second year of high school.” you mentioned the name of your high school; your mind too tired to even add the high school at the end because you have too many schools to be added into your catalogue.

“the thing is the reason i move around is very unconventional. my parents aren’t part of law enforcement or military where they have to move. they’re just... i don’t know. a corporate employee? con people? i can’t pinpoint.” you sighed as you felt your shoulders relaxing.

“is your family the one who moved to that big house near the field?”

you put the cranberries vinyl back into the rack as you hummed whilst nodding your head. slowly, a smile grows on your face as you turn your head to heeseung, “what, what other things have you discovered?”

heeseung scratches his nape before replying, “that that family- well, your family was running away from something. that your family was filthy rich and that people wanted to get a piece of something. like people our age too, greedy for more money and all. that you are a genius.”

you chuckle, taking in the rumours of your family in clarity and succinct manner other than the many whispers you always received as no one ever dared to even confront you about. to challenge the truth when a reliable witness is there all along.

“well, to clarify, if i may,” you turn your whole body towards heeseung, “i’m not a genius. i don’t know how it came to be of the rumour. i’ve overheard people talk about me being ranked first in my school or whatnot and it’s just plain false. my scores are shitty until now because of the multiple people stealing my homework to claim it as theirs. i realized that people mentioning me for having the first rank would then put more targets behind me. and so... well it does alongside everything else.” you nip your bottom lip after finishing your monologue as you walk around the section where you did. finding more of the alternative artists you usually listen to before caressing your hand to move the vinyl around so you could see the familiar and unfamiliar album covers.

“and, with my family, there is truth in there.” you started, peeking from the corner of your eyes to watch heeseung’s eyebrows lift with a slight pout on his lips. “the reason we moved around so much is the people my parents owe to. when we moved around a lot, we had to work in tandem to move important items and all of that. so, it’s not a surprise when i found out my parents’ collection of letters from banks, debt collectors, and all that. so, i choose and read them cause i realize that they’re not opened for a reason.”

you chuckled, “i heard the stories of their glory days when dad had this stable high-paying corporate job. i was so young back then that only vivid memories played in my head when i remembered it. but they can’t keep up with it after dad was fired and ended up splurging with their money, trying to keep up with their socialite lifestyle. when i found some random men on the living room couch after getting back home from school, i realized how much greed had gotten into them. we had to move the next day and i can assume it’s because of the men who visited the other day.”

eyes moving around the shelf, you landed on the rack that had the label m on it as you approached. you pushed the vinyl back to the rack when you looked down to see the ever-so-familiar name of mazzy star. “it’s the reason i don’t show any of that side about my family even if they want to. that wealth which then can be referred to as their con lifestyle. but, i usually got the brunt of it, anyway. how could i not when i have to get out almost every time? not because of school, but also how suffocating living with them is. that’s why i settle with music playing and eyes on the computer and living my day like that.” you shift your head towards heeseung as the last of your words.

his figure approaches you as he leans in, eyeing the album cover before noticing the band name that is etched on the cover. “oh mazzy star! i just gotten to know them, from the space station.”

“space station?” you asked back.

“the moonstruck fan i mentioned to you before. there’s been discussion of the music inspirations or people that are in the same realm as moonstruck. mazzy star is one of them. we called it the celeste aura. the music is magical enough it transcends space, otherworldly.” heeseung explains as he pulls out the mazzy star album.

“because of that, i got into mazzy star. though you can feel the difference between them being a bit more folk than moonstruck’s rock. but, i like it.”

your eyes blinked as you looked down at the album in his hand, a smile growing on your lips as your mind whirled about the information and what to say next when it came back to you, “well if i want to add to the list of artists that has the same aura, i would say the cranberries. it’s the right combination of dreamy but also grounded, and then it is a gateway to other bands similar to them like slowdive. though, i agree with what you say that moonstruck seems to be much more elevated.”

heeseung chuckles after flipping the sleeve to the back side, scanning the track list before looking upwards to the window to see how the sky has become the orange of twilight. you heard the short ringtone playing from his phone as he picked it up and observed the message. typing back, you pick up the familiar clicking noise of the phone’s keyboard as heeseung spells out his answer.

“my mom asked me if i could take care of heechan for a bit. i, uh, agree but said to her i was playing pretty far from home so-“

“we should head back then.” your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the text from the small screen.

“yeah. i’m sorry that i cut this part short-“

“no, no, that’s okay.” you reached out to him, feeling your hand landed on his upper arm as if to stop him from looking away. you felt the warmth travelling to your palm as you let go of him. that’s when you sensed a sigh on your face as you continued to peer at him. blinking away, you let out a small smile as you shifted your head towards the entrance and heeseung followed with a nod.

walking towards the train station, you and heeseung stood side by side as even a graze of you against each other made you both giggle. then, you use your power to nudge him harder and he has an offended look on his face as you take a few strides away from him before he catches your hand and pulls you back beside him. you give him a side eye as it’s his turn to push you around playfully across the empty street. the walk continues as you recognized the familiar sight of stores nearby the station. but you paused your body once again as you read the signage in front of you.

“body piercings and tattoos. walk-ins welcome.”

it is a desire of yours to want piercings. you’ve seen girls who wear beautiful earrings on their earlobes and you used to have those but the holes close in on themselves when it has been a long time of not using a pair. you wanted a familiar ear piercing but also a different one, but either the time or place didn’t match up with you so you haven’t gotten time to actually do it.

that is when a shadowy figure goes past in front of you and approaches the open door to the establishment. following it, you watch the familiar backside with the light blue shirt stepping into the shadows as you can’t help but follow him, going up the stairs before he grazes open the frail curtain that lets you see the place. it has many drawings stuck onto the walls and a leaning chair by the window before it stretches back to the other side of the room where a hallway leads to other rooms.

“hi guys,” a young man spoke up from behind the desk. his arm has tattoos all over it and a few piercings on his face and ears. your eyes focused on the miniature ear on top of the reception counter, seeing the many piercings on it of all variations.

“you have booked an appointment?”

“no, i’ve seen that you accept walk-ins,” heeseung replied on your behalf before looking at your side who is staring at the pierced ear displayed.

“i would like to get a piercing,” he replies, making you lift your eyebrows as you turn your head towards him.

“and her?”

“oh,” you felt an arm warped around your shoulder bringing you closer. “she’s with me.”

“y-yeah. i would like a piercing too,” you replied.

“great!” the man said as he wrote something before standing up and leading you towards the area by the window. you and heeseung sat beside each other as he asked, “what piercing do you want?”

“um, can i get one right here?” you ask as you pinch your left ear on the place that you want. having seen people having this specific piercing makes you want to have one for yourself.

“a helix piercing. what about you, man?”

“i’ll get the same one but on my right ear.” you turned your head towards heeseung as he continued to look forward.

“nice. well, do you both want to have the same piercing?” the man stands up and he picks up the piercing gun and alcohol wipes.

“yeah, if you want to.” you realise he was referring to you as you face him and nod your head.

looking at the catalogue of ear piercings available, your eyes landed on one with a star on the front. pointing towards the pair, heeseung nods his head as you show it to the man. that’s when he also asks, “how long does it take for it to heal? i’ll probably want to change piercing to a hoop one right after.”

“well, helix piercings usually take pretty long for it to heal around 6 to 9 months. i’ll give you two an ointment that will help with soothing the skin from the pain,” the man replies as you nod your head. he then drags a rolling chair to the seat in front of you both.

“who wants to go first?”

you and heeseung looked at each other with small smiles on your faces before heeseung spoke up, “i can go first.”

the rolling chair moves in front of heeseung as you notice something on your hand. looking down, you could feel his fingers slotting in between yours as you turned your head to see heeseung moving his head. his eyes looking right at you as he blinks, perceiving the alcohol wipe on the helix part of his right ear.

“take a deep breath,” the man says as heeseung curls his fingers into your hand, making you do the same as you try to distract him. the sudden hard grip on your head combines with a slight hiss coming from him as the man goes to the back of heeseung’s ear to screw the piercing up.

“you didn’t bleed, but you might feel your ear getting warmer. let me move to your girl.” the man spoke out so nonchalantly that you can’t help your cheeks warming up by the words. your ears were already heated, so when you felt the cold alcohol wipe, you nearly jumped out of your seat. but heeseung held you down as you turned your head to face him once again.

“you’re gonna be okay,” he mumbled, your grip on his hand tightening as you sensed heeseung brushing the back of your hand, soothing you as you looked at him.

“take deep a breath,” and a quick pierce on the skin follows it. your hands gripping onto him as you breathe out.

the interlocking hands didn’t let go as heeseung paid for the piercings to the man. it doesn’t let go as you meet the purple sky of the outside world, walking down the pavement. it doesn’t let go as you find yourselves on the train station’s platform, both of your heads looking at the track where the next set of trains will come and pick you up. and it doesn’t let go as you hear the beautiful vocalization by moonstruck. both of your bodies remain in mercy to the moving train as you have your head leaning against him.

he offered it, actually. heeseung knows that with your headset, it will be uncomfortable for you to wear it and listen to your cd. even with the littlest amount of moments that still feel so large, you would not take this opportunity for granted. but truthfully, you hoped that this little trip would change his mind. that all you had to do to complete it is to tell him you’re going to be more careful, more aware, for his and your own sake in the eyes of his “friends”, to not let them see you both associating with each other.

heeseung rested his head on the window behind him, making both he and you watch the sunset around the field outside. moonstruck’s music becomes the perfect background as you are in a meditative state. the grip of the interlocking fingers is a little loose to let both of your hands breathe, but still with both curled fingers for both of you.

“(y/n)?”

“yes?” you lifted your head, turning to face him.

“do you want to go to my place? just so that i have someone to look out for heechan? i can bring you home too right after.” his voice was gentler with a little raspiness to it.

you try to not the corner of your lips lift too high as you stare at him, nodding your head as he replies with his own smile before he brings his arm behind your shoulders and lets you lay your head back on his shoulder—lasting until you arrived at the train station for your town.

shadows cast from both of you because of the streetlights above, walking in the dark towards heeseung’s home with your interlocked hands and shared earbuds. heeseung seems to bring you through alternative routes to avoid the busier places where he and you both know that they will be there eating or just hanging out. so you breathe out in relief when you sense your walking pace slowing down.

in front of you is a quaint house with an open gravelled parkway for a car to park. you instead only found a bicycle with a manageable look, crooked on the front part but still is rideable. heeseung guides you to the front door as he slowly opens the door. the sound of the running tap water rings from another part of the house whilst you take your shoes off. he then guides you towards a partly open door and pushes it, letting you look at the dimly lit room and the screensaver from a computer set adding colour.

“heeseung?” someone calls for him as far as the running tap.

“stay here. i’ll be right back,” the boy answers as he steps out to meet with the person who called him. because of that, this is a perfect opportunity for you to observe his room. the first thing you notice is the large moonstruck poster beside his desk. an image you have seen before sticking onto the sides of the building back when you lived in seoul. you can definitely feel the eagerness that you received from heeseung when he talks about moonstruck reflected in this very space. a shelf stands tall as a familiar case shows its image to you, letting you see the moonstruck and nexus’ cds he has, but also the cd of artists you’ve spotted have similarities to them, evidently with the mazzy star cd.

you turned your head when you picked up the sound of a closed door and a shadow by the room’s window of a woman stepping away in heels and what you can assume as going out clothes. you turned your head once again and saw heeseung’s head peeking inside the room from the door which startled you.

“he’s ready.”

nipping your lip; you carefully walked towards the living room as you heard a sigh, then a little exclamation. sitting in front of the couch and on top of a blanket rested a baby boy. his limbs wide stretch as his gigantic eyes stare at you and at heeseung, who sits beside you. with a baby bottle ready, heeseung lifts the baby up and holds it comfortably with his hands on the baby’s waist and resting him on his thigh.

“this is heechan.” heeseung says with a much brighter tone like the one that you only caught when he laughs. “and this is (y/n). you can call her noona when you’re a little older. hi noona!” heeseung lifts baby heechan’s arms to create a wave, making you approach closer to the kid.

slowly, you kneeled down in front of the two. your eyes staring at the little hand with a pout formed on your lips. “hi heechan.” you replied while waving your hand in rhythm with the baby. then, you push your open palm forward, making heeseung put his brother’s hand onto your palm. the size difference makes you silently coo, your eyes watering and your vision blurry. taking a sharp breath, you blink it away and give a gentle smile as you also catch the baby giggling. you looked up to be in eye contact with the older brother, a smile etched on his face as he let go of the baby’s hand; letting him drag his hand on your palm until it came in contact with your finger, wrapping it around it tightly.

chuckles come from both of you as you turn your body so you can comfortably look at your phone without bothering them. the time is nearly 7 at night and you know you can’t stay here longer.

“i have to go.” you looked at heeseung and your finger wrapped around heechan’s hand.

“let us bring you back then.”

“are you sure? didn’t your mom give you some tasks to do with heechan?”

heeseung scoffs before answering, “just taking care of him. she’s heading out to meet her friends. it’s what she always asks me to do when she wants to go out. i’ll let her and dad too, of course. i’ll let them have fun and enjoy their life too.”

your shoulders sag as you take in his answer, looking away as you recalibrate all of this. he did promise to bring you back—and you also see heechan’s eye smile as if he knows he will go outside. you nodded for the answer.

the streetlights line up the empty streets that encompass heeseung’s neighborhood. you with your school backpack tug behind while heeseung’s upper body is wrapped around with a cloth long enough to carry heechan against him—as if it is a thing his mom asked him to learn too. looking downwards, you see how heechan’s legs wiggle in excitement as his head is tilted back. eyes shining on both the lit lights but also the moon that decorates the raven sky.

“heechan seems happy,” you commented as heeseung chuckled.

“he’s always happy when he gets a chance to go out of the house.”

“he doesn’t?” heeseung turns his head to face you, walking in tandem as he thinks about the answer to your query.

“only when he has to go to check-ups. mom and dad also don’t have that much time to bring him outside. so i’m usually the one to do so. we hang around by the fields, mostly. this is the first one he goes out at night. usually, he gets sleepy after i give him his food.”

his answer seeps down into your mind as you nod. you let out an enormous sigh as you continue to walk in silence. the step and little drag of footsteps decorating the atmosphere alongside the busy lit-up signs coming from the different blocks that still have their shops open. yet you both walk farther from it, heading to your house that is near the outskirts of where civilisation dimmers. a house with hedges surrounded by fields and a view of a transmission tower a little farther down the road.

“i’m glad that none of us gets called today.” your lips pour out the thoughts that have been clouding your mind.

“what?”

“you too, right? eunho calls you to come to him anytime?” you ask, testing your hypothesis. but when he seems reluctant to answer. you decide to open up about your side.

“seona too. she usually calls around 4 to 5 near the sunset. i had to go to her, with my bags full of paper filled with the homework for next week so she and the rest could copy that. or even stealing them, for that matter. then, i-“ heeseung gazes as you paused, a slow blink coming from you before you continue, “they usually forced me to do something for them. cleaning their shoes mostly. treating them food while i will stand aside and watch them eat.”

“and you don’t deny them?” heeseung asks back, a question that seemed to affect him with the way his eyebrows furrowed and his nostrils flared just a bit.

“i, well, truthfully, i can’t.” you force yourself to say the truth that you want to cover up with some obnoxious reply. but, heeseung just gives off the right aura to make you tell him. maybe because he is also experiencing the same thing.

“you have to know, people are not really keen on me. even those in my previous schools. it’s a cycle, if i can define it. the same thing happens every time i move schools even with different flavours from each of them.” you scratch your head, wanting to feel the invading thoughts go away. a huge exhale comes out of you once again as you both take the walk approaching a street that goes to the outskirts of the neighborhood. standing alone in the middle of the fields is a house lit up behind hedges of leaves.

you both step into the darkness as heechan’s face is covered with shadows; letting him see more of the stars shine bright, taking dominance from the artificial lights.

“i’m glad that they seem to not want us to go to them today. it’s nice to not think about her and all the things i haven’t done to please her,” you concluded, pouting your lips as you also looked upwards like heechan, finding the sprinkles of stars adding to the majestic sight of the moon and the night sky. heeseung seemed to not reply to the answer that you wanted, and so, you just let him walk with you—side by side—until you arrived at the front of your carpool that still goes deeper into where your house stands.

the lone streetlight perfectly shows people is living here. you turn your body to face heeseung as you slowly step back before pausing.

“thanks...” you remarked.

“what for?” his eyebrows lifted.

“granting that wish of mine. I know you might go to the rooftop less because i understand your situation. it’s better if we go our separate ways rather than make these whole things happening to each of us worse.” you replied with a steady voice, hoping that it was stable enough that he couldn’t hear the little trembles on some words you’ve spoken.

heeseung replied with a small smile on his face as you also etched yours on your face before fixing your hair, letting the light refract on the piercing on your ear like he has on his own. so you turned your body around to head down the path to your front door.

“hey, (y/n)!”

you paused, turning your head to peer behind your shoulder.

“i’m not going anywhere. you still have to put the ointment that i’m holding for your piercing.”

you giggled at his proposition. turning around to face him again as heechan is also looking at you with a little pout of his own.

“okay,” you replied before turning your head as heeseung stopped you once again.

“and we haven’t shared our phone contacts yet.”

“oh yeah!” you approach him as you tug your phone out of the skirt pocket. the silver strap shining as it reflects the light from the streetlamp. you step to stand beside heeseung as you open the new contact. the boy said his numbers one by one as you pressed the key of the keyboard, heechan’s eyes staring at your nimble fingers before he let out a small shriek to see them move.

“done and i’m sending you a text.” a chime came from heeseung’s pocket after what you said while stepping back.

“thank you. and one last thing?” heeseung cuts your movement once again.

“yes?” you pushed your tongue to the wall of your cheek, holding back a cheeky laugh at his action.

“you want to go to the fields with me?”

eyebrows raised, you take in his request as you remember he mentioned it as the place he usually goes out with heechan.

“you shared your side of seoul with me. so i think you might want to know what i do with my pastime,” the boy added, his adam’s apple moving as he gulped. you let out a tight-lip smile whilst thinking back to what occurred between the two of you today. your eyes looking down at the hand that was holding yours almost all the time when you both head back to your town. the connection between you two feels more and more like a chemical reaction that can be bombastic.

“let me know when through sms,” you replied and watched as his smile widened. his eyes are also smiling, just like his little brother does before he stops himself and glances back at you with a sheepish smile on his face.

“alright.”

“okay.” you answered his answer, tilting your head to signal to your house. “good night, heeseung.” your farewell reaches him even as you step backwards. your eyes staring one last time at the brothers who are staring at you. little heechan waved his hand as heeseung looked at you before you turned around to head into your house.

you beeline straight to your room, putting your backpack on the bed as you look at your minimalist room with only a few posters that survived on every move of your interests. eyeing the computer on the desk, you grab your headset from the walkman and go to the desk, putting it gently so that it doesn’t press onto your pierced helix, plugging it into the cpu before you open the music player.

as you press play, the sound of a familiar dreamy song reminds you of the boy with his own ear piercing showing up in your head, letting you let out a small smile as you open the browser of the world wide web.

-

《this is not a drill》 《this is real》 《moonstruck is releasing a new album in a couple of days》 《from: silver

《oh my gosh! oh my gosh! oh my gosh!》 《from: 1004

《i will make a new thread on the forum to discuss the new album》 《so that it doesn’t crowd this side where we talked about general things》 《from: pearl

《thanks, pearl!》 《from: silver

《thank you once again, pearl!》 《i will discuss anything about this album as new information comes out》 《from: 1004

heeseung eyes the texts between the three users as he can’t help the giddiness flowing inside him. it’s not the first time he had ever been there since the beginning of a moonstruck release. he was there when breathe was released, but a surprise release like this sends his expectations high. yet, he knows that moonstruck will not disappoint. and he knows he can now share his giddiness with like-minded people.

he knows he had to share this information with you as soon as possible. yet, something about you is also pressing into his mind. something that he needed someone to help untangle. someone who won’t make fun of him for expressing his feelings unlike eunho, youngbin, and the others.

《i’ve been having a predicament》 《someone in my life has been opening up about their life to me》 《it is very personal and i notice we have similarities in how the world treated us》 《i introduced moonstruck to them and they seemed so happy with it》 《whenever we listen to her together》 《but》 《i am hesitating if i should reciprocate》 《from: bambi

heeseung sighs as he awaited for a reply. but when a minute passed, he knew it wouldn’t come. everybody seems to move to the other thread to discuss the new moonstruck album. he wanted to move there too, of course. but then he won’t see if anyone replied to him.

then his eyes flick to the chat portion of the screen when a line of text shows up underneath his lines.

《that’s a dilemma for sure》 《have you opened up to them as well?》 《from: silver

《yeah, i did》 《i mostly talked about the reasoning why i could make a great ramyeon》 《from: bambi

《ramyeon seems so good for a late-night snack》 《and that’s good on your part》 《you have opened up to them》 《why still hesitating?》 《from: silver

heeseung stared at the last sentence silver gave to him. words clouding his mind as he tried to piece them up to create cohesion.

《i guess i don’t want them to rid of the persona of me they see because of it》 《they’re so nice and gentle》 《from: bambi

《seems to me they see you as a companion, bambi》 《from: pearl

《i agree with pearl》 《you have opened up to them and they have opened wider to you》 《why not go all the way?》 《from: silver

《if it does well》 《from: bambi

《i feel that it will do well based on what i’ve read》 《maybe introduce them to something that you usually do》 《maybe you can tell them about the new moonstruck album since they seemed to enjoy her as well》 《make a space for both of you to talk about anything》 《from: pearl

that could work. heeseung remembers his promise to you for that field. he wants to share that side of him with you. the side of him which encompasses all of his feelings into one activity of the day as he refreshes his mind while listening to moonstruck. maybe he could invite you to do the same.

《i will plan for that》 《thank you to both silver and pearl》 《from: bambi

《of course, bambi :)》 《from: pearl

《you’re welcome, bambi》 《hope it goes well between the two of you》 《from: silver

the next day at school, all heeseung can focus on is the back of your head. it is leaning down, writing both the written and verbal explanations given by your teacher in front of the class. in small glances, he could catch eunho sometimes looking at you, but also seona a few seats at the front. when he had done his task, heeseung had no other activity but to “hang out” with the boys—usually sitting in silence as he let the vulgar conversation bounce between the other boys in the background of the waste dumping site.

there he caught onto a few other things that eunho has the boys do for financial gain. sometimes, girls will come to their hideout alongside youngbin. they all are in the same shirt uniform as the one he usually wears, but creases form in them like they do in the frowns on their faces. youngbin then gave them a thick envelope for eunho to open and find a stack of money. said boy split it up, giving little to the girls before they stepped aside. with the pattern forming the conclusion itself and the time that he had seen one girl he recognizes out and about with a man much older than her and himself, he realizes these girls were doing so to get paid under eunho’s command.

but the same vulgar words were sometimes related to you. he had read the letter that eunho gave to you back on your first day when he saw it peeking from your desk’s doorless drawer. his eyes scanned the words written in familiar handwriting, making him clench his hand to close them against this palm, tearing the paper. it reminds him of how eunho usually refers to “the girl”. there are so many girls that he can talk about using that phrase, but eunho knew of these girls’ names when they came to give him the money. and so, he had associated that eunho was talking about you; and heeseung is forced to listen to it.

it’s the reason he is hesitating to tell you. to want to avoid you as best as possible. yet, it only lessens. the rooftop is still a sacred place for the two of you. sharing the ointment that could help with both of your ear piercings, head nodding to the song playing on heeseung’s walkman of your cd collection you brought home. cds that remind him of moonstruck such as the cranberries and mazzy star. and, sometimes, you place your head on his shoulder like two connecting puzzle pieces while cigarette smoke rises in front of the two of you and your fingers give him the cigarette stick for him to hold between his lips.

it’s the same thing as today. he peeks from the corners of his eyes to watch you drag another smoke. the fire on the blunt flares up as it burns more and more of the outside layer.

“hey,” heeseung cuts off the silence.

“hmm?” you peek from the corner of your eyes just like him.

“i still want to bring you to the field, you know? do you have time today?”

looking elsewhere, your eyes flicker back to him as you flick the ash from the burning cigarette, a small smile on your face. “i have nothing to do after this. so yeah.”

“great. i’ll see you by the gate after the class finishes?”

“always.” you give him a thin smile. his eyes examining how your own are looking downwards. the way you had to hold your face from smiling wider made him smile instead, nudging his shoulder against yours as you both burst into giggles.

heeseung stepped aside by the main gate as he looked back to the class building, eyes scanning every person who went in front of him until his eyes landed on the girl that had been running around his mind for a month now. you who walked with a sense of timidness, your eyes looking around the people around you as you had this neutral face that did not allow people to read. yet, heeseung can read it. he walked like that before, anxiety coursing through his veins, as he had to stay aware. and when you catch his eyes, a small smile grows as you quicken your step to reach him.

watching you make his heartache as he looked at your bandaged limbs and reality hits. how could someone hurt a person this innocent? you don’t even try to bother other people with the stories you told him, but they still see you as inconvenient. someone that could be ruled over. that and the stories you’ve told before on how you moved around, not able to create a stable support system outside of your forsaken family. it’s also how you opened up to him, recognizing the similar agony that washed over the two of you.

heeseung had to scramble his mind once again, repeating every sentence that he had practised by himself, every scenario that could happen after he told you. he used to seek help, seek comfort in other people such as eunho back when they were still “friends” and civil. he remembered a trip he, eunho, youngbin, and the boys had when they were having their summer break back in middle school. using their saved money to actually head to jeju island. no parents are involved. just a bunch of boys having fun and forgetting every single problem they have here. torments that clouded every single one until it succumbed to eunho too at the end of the trip, changing him into the best friend heeseung ever had to his primary tormentor instead. because of that, he never seeks help again. until you reach out with your story to him.

“where to go?” you stood in front of him, making him startled as you let out a chuckle reserved only for him. instead of pointing and saying the direction of his usual resting place, he holds onto your hand and tangles them in each other, pulling you to walk beside him as he throws away the worries even for just a moment.

a few roads taken, he brought you to the beginning of the fields. the tall emerald green grass blown by the breeze that also reaches him. he brought the steps to a stop, observing the way the grasses moved about following where the wind came from. heeseung senses the heaviness in his lungs washes away as he takes a deep breath and exhales. a gentle brush against his pierced ear makes him focus on his hearing—catching a large exhale coming from beside him as well.

“this is breathtaking,” you mumble to yourself. his head turns as look at your face. the timidness is long gone as you let yourself relax. your hands wrapped with each other still as he guides you on the narrow asphalt road before heading to the side, the grassy patch that slopes down towards the field.

letting your hand go, you followed his movement as he sat down on the patch—legs curled as he rested the soles of his feet on the slope, allowing him to rest his hands on his thighs. you let your legs outstretched as if you’re a child waiting to be pushed down on the playground slide. your eyes follow heeseung’s hands who reach for his backpack and pull out his trusty cd walkman, giving one wired bud to you as he puts one for himself. his thumbs press against the rewind button. the sound of the cd spinning before it stops: signalling him to press play.

taking in the music, you both stayed quiet as heeseung took in the familiar view. the clear blue sky is decorated with thin clouds. kites flying at the back of his view near the large electrical tower that reaches to touch the space above. its large wires holding onto the other towers stretched further away from both of you. when he shifted his vision, you already had your eyes closed, a sway from your head before you opened your eyelid slowly, blinking twice before turning your head to meet him.

“this is what i usually do when i have no other things to do. moonstruck and the fields,” he mumbles. his hands holding each other as the walkman rested against his thigh.

“it’s genuinely nice. i can see why heechan seems to like it so much.” he chuckled as you remembered the brief mention of when he usually brought heechan here with him.

and it goes quiet once again. you both letting the ends of your outfit flutter against your skin, not minding that your bottoms will be grimy from the dirt.

“eunho and i are, well, were friends.” heeseung pushes out the first sentence he has to make you know, eyes slightly tilted so he can read your reaction. “we’re friends from middle school. we joined taekwondo together and met the rest of our friends there. he was actually a smart kid, ranked top 5 back in his elementary school and he also got bullied for that.”

“he was there for me and i was there for him.” the boy spoke, his face continuing to grimace as he recalled how everything was wonderful for younger him. “that is until this trip we had when we all went to jeju island. eunho was richer than all of us. his parents owned a manufacturing company operating in this very town. on that trip, he learned his mom was cheating with his dad’s best friend when his dad called him about their divorce proceedings. after that call, he swims in the ocean alone in front of where we and the guide were hanging about.”

heeseung closes his eyes and tightens them until he can only see the darkness before he opens them again, “the waves were crashing hard and he was pushed to the shore, unconscious. the guide gave him cpr as i stood aside, worrying for the first person i ever labelled as my friend. he coughed up the salt water and i noticed how his eyes were tearing up. it is because of pain, but there is also something else. that accident happened one day before we went back and on our last night there, he isolated himself. the next morning, he became reckless. like something stretches his self-control, and then it snapped. and it escalates.”

the boy wiggles his thumbs with each other, licking his drying lips. “the first day of school after that trip, he tackled our school bully, who has been insulting me, him, and the others since our first year. i stood beside him as eunho was looking at the field that was just mud from the rain last night. the bully stands there naked and covered with mud. ‘he has to act like a pig for being the pig he is’ he said. that’s when I realized eunho was not the friend i once knew. and i stay by him until now.” he peeks at you as you nibble on your bottom lip.

“then why didn’t you stay away from him?” your soft voice speaks out with your eyebrows furrowed.

heeseung can only sigh after he picked the sentences that he knew you might ask. after asking the people on the space station forum, he had to reflect on himself. he knew that staying by eunho’s side hurt him much more than when he realized he changed three years ago, and it escalated more and more. but he realized the reasons were simple for a situation so complex.

“eunho still looks at me as a “friend”, well, crony. he gives the other task to get him money that will also help with our meals and he needs it fast. that’s why he makes us to do some shit. mostly porch stealing and shoplifting. but he also had girls under his grasp, working after school to meet with older guys to give him money." heeseung shakes his head, reacting to the words he uttered himself and how ridiculous it sounds, “other than that, it’s better to side with him rather than being solo. the other students already refer to me as eunho’s friend and they can’t let that nickname go no matter how much i’ve been avoiding him. more bullies exist in our school, even the year above us and under us. if i’m alone, i’m more prone to being bullied further. it’s just that the bullies who bullied us are the top of the top in woonmyung high school.”

moonstruck’s voice continues on in the background of the conversation. the worry on your face changed into sorrow as your chest takes in the air rapidly. the shining sun reflects its light into your pupil, letting him watch the way your eyes glisten. heeseung raises his arms to wrap around your shoulders as he brings you closer to him. your head tilted as it rests against his shoulder before you turn your head to the sleeve of his shirt. sniffles come from you as he can’t help to feel it as well. his eyes looking somewhere else as he tried to balance out the explosion of emotion he is feeling.

“i feel so sorry for you,” you mumbled before leaning back so you could glance at him. a small smile formed on his face.

“i feel so sorry for you, too.” heeseung replied, “but when you told me about your situation, it made me want to open up too. i just can’t let you bear that burden on me when you open yourself to me so easily.”

“it’s not easy for me at all,” you nip your bottom lip, “i- i find you comfortable to talk about this because i saw myself in you. the similarities of our situation and all that. i know i can see myself as a friend of yours, bonding about our suffering.”

the boy gives such a face that makes you cower away. that is when he cups your jaw and makes you return to him once again.

“thank you for trusting me,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek.

“thank you for also letting me hear your story.”

heeseung’s smile grows as he continues to stare at the beautiful view, the lingering heaviness still evident and how it crawls towards you as well. “you know? there’s something that i usually do to get rid of this feeling.”

“yeah?”

he hums to answer, nibbling his lip as he turns to you. “cover your ear for this.”

squinting your eyes, you let your hand reach up to cover your other ear, amplifying moonstruck’s voice instead as you looked at heeseung. that is when his next action startles you into chuckles.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!”

heeseung squeezes his eyes shut and forms his hands into fists as he lets out a loud yell that vibrates against the atmospheric field. the sound wave disperses alongside his worries, opening his eyes, he calms his hyperventilating self, much more aware of his beating heart as he tilts to find your baffled face that lets out little chuckles. he follows, scanning your guffawed self before you give him a smile.

“you look better,” you stated, earning you a smile from him as well.

“it’s nice. screaming is nice cause it lets out all the pain you have in you in one swoop,” he echoes.

“cathartic...” you mumbled out and heeseung replied with nods.

“being the one without a voice, screaming out just helps me realise how big of a voice i am. that i still have myself to rely on,” the boy continued, adding more to his usual doing by the fields. that’s when he sensed your palm pushing him backwards. his eyes widen as he watches you.

“FUCK YOU!” you let out a loud and elongated yell until nearly all the breath in your lungs is out. your hyperventilation follows his as you glance back at him, a grin on his face as he can’t help to brush your cheeks. his thumb caresses near the corner of your mouth, pushing it outwards to make you let out a smile.

“you looked much more relaxed,” he commented. the creases on your face are smooth out, letting go of certain burdens you must have held back for a while now. he enjoys seeing you like this.

“thanks to you,” you replied, your hand not even reaching up to move heeseung’s hand on your cheek. instead, he watches as your eyes flick upward and downward on his face, lasting a few more seconds than usual before going back to his eyes. to answer, he scoots himself closer to your body—skin-to-skin contact. his eyes observe your facial structure, how all of them culminate into the beautiful face that is yours as he leaned in. your eyes flutter close as the boy watches, his forehead resting against yours as well as his pointy nose grazing yours.

push through and push through he did, tilting his head to one side as he slots his lips on yours. his thumb caressed your cheek before the other hand reached up, grazing against the rubbery skin of the wired buds on each of your ears as he cradled your face. your eyelashes rest against your cheeks when he leans back, finding how your lips are parted as you open your eyelids. your eyes staring back at him, cloudy before it dissipates as your hand reaches for his face.

heeseung held back his breath as you caressed his prominent cheekbone. every caress seems more like you want to remember every touch of his face. the boy leans forward once again, feeling the graze of your breath against his skin as he lets you take a turn and steady the pace. your fingers walk along his shoulder to his nape one by one. hooded eyes staring back at him as he nudges his nose back against yours, letting you take the lead as you tilt your head and place your lips back onto his. your hand that is on his nape pushes his head forward.

fireworks and butterflies all flutter inside heeseung. his limbs taking control to hold you close as you raise your other arm up and place on his back. his hands slide down your body as he holds onto your blazer-covered waist. both of your lips are moving in tandem with a tinge of chaos that he doesn’t mind. little clashes of teeth show the eagerness alongside your parted lips that makes him try to poke his tongue through. instead of being disgusted by it, you accept with how your mouth wide and take his tongue in. hums come from both of you as his grasp on your waist brings you closer, lifting you slightly onto him when he senses the circular music player pressing against you two.

he pulls away, looking downward to observe the connecting string between the two of you that got instantly cut as you approached him and sat across his thighs. your skirt overflowing, creating a circle on top of heeseung’s lap as he continued to kiss you, holding you close like you are the only person who could make him this sane after a long time. sunlight is blocked by your figure as you continue to kiss him, returning your hands back behind him as he wraps his around your waist tight. the warmth coming from you thawing the coldness in his heart that has remained frozen for a long, long time. you rest your forehead against him, brows furrowed as heeseung is still taking in the whole emotion and senses that overwhelms him.

slowly, he lifts his eyelids and lets his eyes take in your face, especially your swollen lips. he kissed your jaw before loosening his grip on you so he could admire more of you. the connection between the two of you that are increasing in chemistry as he felt ever more connected with you. and the connection that compels him to ask this.

“moonstruck has a new album coming out in a few days. my parents will not be home then and they will bring heechan too.” his words slowed down as he sensed your hand cupping his cheek, brushing gently against his skin. “do you want to listen to it together and maybe we can... you know...”

“make out?” you guessed and heeseung shakes his head.

“more than that,” he replied, resulting in you raising your eyebrows.

“are you sure?” you then cupped his face with both of your hands.

“with you, i am sure.” he pecked a bit of your palm that he could reach, resulting in you leaning in and pecking his pouty lips.

“okay. i do.”

-

with both of your hands holding something, you looked back at the decorated shelves with their intricate feather ornaments and light-blue colouring. a large poster that reflects the colour of the pink moon in front of the blue sky background. the appearance of the familiar female artist standing at the front looking at the camera; the silhouette of a pair of wings behind her.

angels. the name of moonstruck’s latest album.

placing the cd case on the counter, you let the cashier employee take in your item as you follow your other hand which is still holding something, trailing up the arm to see heeseung who was already peeking at you. his vision returns forward, gazing at the many posters of music events around the wall as you watch him. he had told you that this very store is the one that he shoplifted and then caught, with a tremble in his voice as he spoke those meaningful words even if it is a tad bit different. but you curled your hand against his tight.

“you have me now. we can buy the new album together.”

and indeed you did as heeseung put the amount of cash half of the price before you pushed your hands to the counter and finished the other half. the cashier glances between the two of you, a few seconds longer staying at heeseung before he picks up the money put on the little tray, counting down. you both are still hand in hand, facing forward with your heads following the cd on top of the counter. a sigh of relief coming from heeseung as you both heard the familiar ding of the cash register.

“here you go.” he pushes the cd as you reach to grab it.

“thank you!” you remarked.

“thank you so much.” heeseung follows.

zipping up your backpack and placing the straps back on your shoulders—sensing how safe the newly bought cd is between your own stuff—both of you stride out of the music store as heeseung pushes the glass door wide. the sun is still in the sky, albeit getting lower and lower towards the horizon. you both turn at the intersections and all towards heeseung’s home, towards the commitment you both agreed with when you found out about the new album release.

after that day on the fields, kissing heeseung is slipping into being a part of your nature. sitting down beside each other, having a few talks about today and other things that aren’t mentioned in your text thread, a puff of smoke comes from heeseung’s agape lips as you shared the earbuds of his walkman—the area where you got pierced has a little throbbing feel to it. when you tilt your head and let heeseung meet the gap between his and your lips, the wind brushes your skin alongside the butterfly in your stomach. you could taste the tobacco and menthol flavour you recognised before he pulled away and gave the burning cigarette to you. hooded eyes looking back at you before the eyelids open up once again.

both you and heeseung walked beside each other as you walked the empty road where one to two cars parked alongside bicycles. the intrusive thoughts in your head win as you give heeseung a huge push with your shoulders before you jog away down the road. your giggles ringing throughout the street as heeseung chases you down with a bigger stride and faster pace, nudging you off your momentum as you look back at him. stomping towards the boy before you give another nudge as he retaliates and you move away at the right time, making him miss his target. giggles turned into laughter as you could see heeseung’s pout forming, making you return in front of him as you gave him a little peck on his lips. no words uttered between the two of you, yet you can still communicate with each other.

however, stepping out of your shoes as you enter the front door of the lee household brings you back to reality. your eyes scanning the corridor as heeseung takes the lead—focusing on his room as he seems much more eager than you. not that you are not eager to listen to moonstruck’s new release, but the activity that you’ll be doing whilst doing it. maybe it is because of heeseung’s “friend group” that he is much more brash, but you had to prepare for this too. it is the first time you’re doing it and you're nervous about how will it last and how you will satisfy heeseung. you have little knowledge regarding sex after all even from the reading you did.

yet you trust yourself. that what you both agree to is something you both have trust in each other. something that can elevate your blooming relationship with him. by doing it, heeseung does trust and goes through so much more emotions towards you.

heeseung slides the door to his room to a close. the window that overlooks the front of the house is close nearly shut as you can still see the light coming from the sliver right down the middle. he switches on his lamps to let the room be illuminated enough. placing down your backpack on the chair of his desk, you open the main pocket where you store your stuff. notebook, your stationary case, your own walkman you had to use one side of the headset because of your healing ear, and the cd that is refracting the light in the room. you felt warmth enveloping one side of your from behind, a slight breathing that then is replaced by a searing kiss to your shirt-covered shoulder to then the juncture between it and your neck. angle you to one side, your chilly hand holds onto the casing as heeseung overwhelms you with his touch that you also hold with your other hand.

turning yourself around inside his embrace, you wrapped your arms behind his shoulder as you returned his kiss with your own. holding onto the casing as both of your bodies twist to meet each other and the tingling sensation. heeseung pushes his tongue into your opened lips, making you let out a muffled moan as he holds you tight against him by your waist. pulling away to breathe, he trails his kisses from the corner of your lips to the front of your neck as you open the first few buttons of your uniform shirt.

the boy notices it instantly, reaching his hands to continue unbuttoning your shirt as you reach for his own. with a few of the buttons undone from his side, he nuzzles away the ends of the shirts as he sees the hint of your torso. you let out a shaky breath as heeseung kisses the area by your sternum before he raises his head to look at you. his eyes questioning before it changes as you give him nods. heeseung caresses one side of the shirt away as he meets half of your body. you expected him to be in shock, especially with the numerous times you have said to him of the pain you endured. your body is the canvas that is marred with these proofs of pain, most inflicted on you by others. yet, heeseung’s action said otherwise.

every little blemish on your skin, he will kiss it. these scars that have littered your body, from the most prominent to the most obscured. he traces them one by one with his lips before giving a small yet long kiss. he takes off the sleeve and twists your arm so he can reach every single patch of skin that will always heal until your time is up. your head follows his, trying to stay as static as possible. but the actions he did dig deeper into your gut than you expected. as the small breeze brushes the other side, he peels it off from you, letting him see you breathing through your diaphragm, he continues to trail your skin with his lips when he sensed your chest shaking.

tilting his head back, the view of you squeezing your eyes shut as tears flow down the corner of your eyes makes him pause. “are you alright? did i go too fast-“

you whiffled your head, hands lifted to his shoulders as you opened your eyes and the blurriness faded away as you were met with heeseung’s concerned face. you let out a smile that turns into a small chuckle. heeseung brushes the fallen tear away as he cups your cheek.

“no, i’m alright. i, i haven’t felt this feeling in a long time.” you gulp down your saliva. “i’ve never felt this loved before.”

“aw,” he exclaimed, furrowed brows showing on his face as he leaned his forehead against yours, giving a quick kiss. “you deserve it. so much, (y/n).”

you nodded your head in his hold as your hands reached up to his uniform shirt, unbuttoning them one by one as you felt the cotton material of his inner t-shirt. heeseung reaches for his opened shirt and removes it in an instant before he continues his path down to your torso.

“let me take care of you first,” he remarked, pulling the other sleeve down as he continued doing the same thing from the side before this. he trails his lips to your arms where scars from scabs remain before he went back to your torso, tracing the simple white bra as he teasingly sucks on the material. his warmth seeps into the fabric and reaches your skin, goosebumps showing on your arms.

“can i?” his hands trail to the back of your body as you beat him first, reaching for the clasp as you take them off from the hook. the fabric of the cup falls as you look at him, nodding your head as he tugs the straps of your shoulders, letting him see how your nipples are already erected both from the breeze and the actions he had done. his hand reaches up to cup your right breast, a sharp gasp coming from you as he follows along with kisses around the left areola before he gives the nipple a suck. the hands that were rested beside your body reach up to heeseung’s head, rubbing it as an encouragement for him but also to guide him. his grip on your love handles tightened as he could hear your little whimpers when he brought you closer and changed to also treat the other side the same. it continues as he trails down to your abdomen, his furrowed eyebrows showing again as he kisses it all over when he finds the scarring there from the many times you know you’ve been hurt from the abdomen.

his hands reach for the clasp of your plain uniform skirt as he pulls it off alongside the zipper, tugging it downwards as his nimble fingers also pull down your socks alongside it, guiding you to step one foot at a time so he can pick it up and throw it somewhere where he had also thrown away your uniform shirt. his kisses focus on your calves and shins where the blemishes are prominent there, especially the prolonged kisses on your kneecaps that have to withstand the abuse you’ve endured. his hands reach behind your thighs and trail to your buttcheeks, giving them a squeeze as he met the sight of your pastel underwear.

a small kiss there makes you let out a gasp, his finger trailing the patch of fabric that is wet from your arousal. that’s when you felt his wet appendage taking in a taste, a hum coming from him as he tugs the band of the pair down your legs and you let him with how he easily tugs them away from you as soon as you step out from it. heeseung reaches back to your butt as he continues, finally tasting your leaking arousal as your hands continue to rub his hair and grip the back covered by his t-shirt.

he laps around your lower lips before he finds your opening and licks a strip there. and again, and again, as you moan in response.

“hee-“ you moaned as he let his tongue lick up the excrement.

one of your hands reaches down to your private parts, trailing your finger between your lower lips as you found the clit that brushes against heeseung’s nose bridge, pressing down and rubbing against it as to show him the other ways you felt more pleasure down there. his hand reaches for your calves as he picked one up and put it behind his shoulder letting him see the slit’s opening and the nub clearer as he uses his thumb there to rub it, letting him continue to lick up the area before plunging his tongue into the wider opening.

“fuck...” you gasped and continue to let out breathy moans, not wanting to be too loud so his neighbours won’t be alerted. your eyes looked down, brushing away the bangs that covered his forehead so you could observe how heeseung’s hooded eyes focused on pleasuring you. a moment later, he switched around as his tongue is the one that licked up your clitoris while he pushed his forefinger up your opening. you brace against him with your hand on his head so you can watch him and a claw against his back. your body is quivering as you feel something has risen down at your abdomen with how the muscles contract.

“you’re getting tighter,” he mumbled his observation.

“i’m- i’m gonna-“

“cum for me.” he pushes in another finger as they stretch your muscles alongside continuing to the pace of the thrust. he gives a gentle suck to your clit as he chases after your release. your head tilted back, vision blackens from how your eyes went back from your lid as you felt the liquid squeezed out onto his two fingers. a whine comes from you as they pull out before heeseung’s tongue returns and taste what you produced. your grip on him tightens as he continues to arouse you.

when he leans away, you can breathe steadily as he carefully pulls your leg off his shoulder and stands before you, hands returning to your love handles as he kisses your breath away, making you savour your arousal from his tongue as you continue to grip onto him, the t-shirt lifted from the clench from your hold as he leans away to cross his arms in front of him, lifting the hem of the shirt as you could finally observe his torso. you figured out his build as the right amount of muscles, fat, and bones, creating the prominent muscles cluster around his upper arms, pectorals, and abdomens with how the fat creates a softer look. the bones on his forearm and collarbone become more prominent alongside some protruding from this ribcage.

he looks beautiful. and he also had scars littered around his body.

the first scar you notice line across his collarbone. it doesn’t seem like something his bullies would do as the skin colour is so different between one and the other, creating an obvious shape for the keen people. you trace it with your thumb as heeseung watches how you observe the particular scar.

“it’s stitches that i got when i was 10,” he answers your curiosity.

“it’s beautiful,” you replied as you leaned closer and gave every trace of the stitches kisses.

you followed what heeseung had done, trailing the prominent scars on his skin with your kisses even with the slight difference in skin color. your hand reaches for his back and you can feel his muscles move and contract. you kneel down, your head resting on his abdomen as you trace every patch of the large scar on there. your hands move the waistband of the uniform pants as you lean your head against his thighs and look upwards.

“can i?” you echoed his request earlier.

“please...” he answers.

your fingers reach for the button and zipper to take them off before you tug the pants down, following the scars that are exposed on the skin that were covered by the material. your head tilts up as you find the prominent bulge from his boxer briefs. leaning in closer to it, heeseung’s grip on your shoulder tightens as you breathe on it. you could see a bit of the head side peeking out from the waistband and you don’t want to make him wait any longer.

pulling the fabric down, his member springs up as you touch it. the muscles contracting creating a sturdy cock to touch. the tip of the head leaking drops from the slit as you push out your tongue, looking down at the tip of your tongue and gently licking up the drop. heeseung’s sudden movement pauses you as he steps out of his bottoms before bringing them to pile up by your knees.

“you can kneel on them so that it won’t hurt you more,” he spoke as you looked up at him, your hand reaching for his as he helped you to find your position. the tip of his cock nudging against the bridge of your nose as your other hand reaches up and gives an experimental stroke. the boy hisses as he grips your hand before removing it to cup your cheek. your eyes looking up to meet his, his bangs hanging by his forehead with his mouth open. his chest rises and falls steadily as you follow with your own. you move your head, letting the tip slide along your face as you open your lips and give it a suck. your hand holding onto the cock so it won’t move anywhere. you hummed, the vibration sending chills to heeseung as he let out a breathy noise. tilting your head, you let him see just how well you suck him, wide up your cavern so that he won’t feel your teeth dragging against his skin.

“just like that,” he commented as you felt his hand reach the back of your head. the tip nearly reaching the back of your mouth as your saliva coats the area you suck. pulling away, you reach the layer of it and spread it against the rest of his member, feeling it getting longer and sturdier as you perceive the ridges of blood veins on them getting more prominent. your head moves without question as you push your tongue to lick one vein across the ridges towards his bulbous head. pushing your head to let more of him inside, you surprised yourself and him with your gagging, making him pull your head back as you let out a groan.

“you okay?” and you reply with your nodding head as you clear your throat.

“i am. just want to make you feel good.” your hands clutching against his thighs as his grip loosens to let you move on your own accord. his cock enters your mouth once again, bracing yourself as it hits the back of it as heeseung’s hand holds onto your head. your hand continues to stroke the rest that isn’t inside of your mouth while the other holds onto his body, his other hand on top of yours. his breathy gasps turn into low-note moans as you continue, sliding your saliva-covered fingers upwards to his abdomen and resting beneath his belly button. you can sense him chasing his high, his hips moving a bit to chase after you.

his moans become erratic and unsteady as you continue to stare at his expression. his teeth biting his bottom lip with the scrunch on his face, making him look much more delicious. “i’m cumming,” he exclaims. but you don’t stop sucking him as you move both of your hands towards his parts, one stroking his cock, the other stimulating his balls.

your breath was taken away as he pushed your head towards his hips, eyes wide as you could feel the warmth bursting in your mouth. a bit of saltiness that you push around inside your cavern as he pulls his cock out. your lips continue to pucker until the last of him is out, swollen and glistens as you push his cum down alongside your saliva.

“fuck...” heeseung exclaims as he moves his hand back to your jaw before guiding you to stand up. your hands enrapturing him as he kisses you, licking your agape mouth to let both of you taste each other’s cum. his hard cock pushes against your skin as you trail your hands down his back while he has his on your waist. your forehead resting against each other as you take deep breaths.

“i can’t wait anymore.” he shakes his head as his lips trail down your neck, making you push him back as you walk to grab the angels and his cd walkman before you sit on his bed. opening the lid, the sight of windswept’s cd shines on you as you pull it away before placing it on your lap. you gently rip the plastic sheet covering the cd, its sleek material glides against your fingertip as you push the lid open to be met with the booklet and the shining disc. the colour of the moon reflects its blue design unlike windswept’s cream and breathe’s green. heeseung’s hand touches your thigh as you look at him, signalling with his head for you to lie down on the bed. you pull the cd out and place it in its place.

with your position, you can see heeseung’s full figure perfectly as he stands beside the bed. his hand reaches for the cd casing as he looks at the track list. “48 minutes. 12 tracks.”

“as long as windswept,” you remarked. his eyes move to you as they trail down your exposed body from the light of his bedside lamp. placing the other cd inside of the casing for safe-keeping before returning it back to his table.

heeseung straddles you as you widen your legs to let him know his place. your eyes focus on your fingers as you untangle the wires of the earbuds. your giggles float in the room as he moves to adjust himself and you, the head of his cock resting against the skin above your lower lips. he gently lowers the head down, tapping it against your clit as it makes your body quiver, your knees already folding up as it rests right beside his hips. you grab onto of of the buds as you push your arms upwards, making heeseung lean down as he lets you push the bud into his ear, brushing against his piercing before you return to place the other bud into your own pierced ear.

“it will hurt,” he spoke above you.

“yeah...” you reply, your other hand already grabbing onto his tricep as you both look at how heeseung helps you get ready—how he also is getting himself to take you to the next level. he pushes his cock more, letting the tip caresses your clit and lower it as it widens your inner lip. you lean back more, letting your hip push up to let him see the hole.

“ah!” you gasped when you felt the head nudged at the entrance, shivers and sweat running down your spine as he pushes the rim of the hole so it got wider. your wetness makes the stretch easier when you can feel his head enter, from the narrow tip to the middle until the rest of his head is inside of you. your body is quivering, eyes stuck on his shaft entering you as a cacophony of moans and groans coming from both of you. hands held onto his arm and the walkman respectively as his hands on the pillow beside your head tighten up.

“fuck!” heeseung leans his head back, letting you admire his throat that has little blemishes from your kiss. you feel your walls closing in on him even just the little bit that he had entered. but it makes you shake your head.

“keep going,” you mumbled to him as he looked down to meet your breathtaking face. your nipples are perky as you reach his hand with your own. “i can handle it.”

“you’ll be the death of me,” he said under his breath as heeseung pushed himself deeper. more of your walls open up to encompass him as you keep your fingers locked in between his. the expression of your pain dissipates as you familiarize yourself, feeling yourself getting fuller as he pushes more of himself in.

the brush of his tip against your cervix widens your eyes as you feel his hips against yours. his body is still on top of you as you raise your legs up. his heavy breathing against your ear with the wires searing your warm skin with the cold material. heeseung’s lip trail kisses from your ear to the corner of your lips, his other hand holding onto your waist so that he can’t crush you. you embrace him by kissing him, a blissful smile spreading against your face, calming the boy.

“does it feel good?”

“very,” you respond, lifting your head to give a kiss as a seal. he looks to the side, glancing at your hand that's holding onto his walkman as you follow. your thumb reaches for the play button and pushes it down. the cd whirls inside as the sound of guitar strumming plays with the first song. your eyes staring into each other, overwhelming more of your senses from the touch to the hearing.

supernova, as you remember the title to be. a supernova also bursts inside of you, from the beautiful sound along to heeseung who invites you to join in on this intimate moment. and as the song continues, hearing moonstruck sings, the boy moves his hips, sliding his cock nearly out before pushing it back in.

his movement continues as the song continues, taking things slowly as you both take both sensations. your hands wrapped around his back alongside your legs on his waist. the feeling of the walkman resting on his back as you both look between each other and the place where your bodies conjoined. his kiss lingers as you stay in eye contact with him, yet sometimes it rolls back when you feel him hitting some spots within you. your eyes resting on his expressions as he looks down at you, sparkles in his eyes resembling supernova as you brought him down to kiss him with your hand on his cheek. gently, you brush his bangs resting on his forehead as both of your moans get louder in time with the rhythm he said. heeseung’s grip on you tightens as you can sense the fluidity of his hips moving faster, making more of your eyes roll back.

“hee, hee-“ you moan as you stare at him who is gritting his teeth, holding onto something you could assume is his release. you both come from the same position after all and it admires you more that he manages to hold on.

“let go,” your whisper reaches heeseung’s ears as his doe-like eyes enlarge, nodding your head to justify what you imply.

“cum for me,” you continue. your free hand reaches to play with your breast as your gleaming eyes silently plead to him, “cum in me.”

heeseung’s groan continues as his movement gets faster, chasing after his release and—with his thumb rubbing against your nub—making you chase after yours. he moans out deliciously as he collapses, his head returning to nudge into your juncture. as the fourth song plays, you can feel his liquid warming you up. yet he continues to rub his thumb against your clitoris as he turns his head to look at your side profile. the walkman still resting on his back as you push against it with your hand.

“my... angel...” he kisses your cheekbone as your loud moan comes out from your lips before he muffles it with his deep kiss. you could feel his outstretched smirk as your orgasm gushed out to your walls and his member. you breathe heavily as heeseung calms you down, his usual cockiness seeping out of its shell as he touches the area where you and him connected, making your body jitter.

“angel...” he mumbled against your skin as the fourth song finished and continued on with the fifth one.

“baby...” you replied with an airy voice, bringing him down back onto you as you felt his hand on your breasts and play with them. the sound of wetness coming from the bottom of your body as he continues to playfully nudge his hips, the coldness of both of your cum spreading across your warm skin.

“you want more?” you mumbled, eyes catching his as the corner of his lips wide, matching your own bliss expression.

“just one more.” his words come to you as he holds on to your waist and turns both of your bodies around. you nip on your bottom lip as both of your cums flow downwards. hands reaching for heeseung’s torso as your grip is still on the walkman. that’s when you felt a little tug on it as heeseung held it in his hand. you straighten your back, holding yourself up as trickles of your releases seep in between your walls and his shaft. and more of them as you push yourself down.

leaning your head back, you let out a satisfying moan as you push heeseung deeper into you, already feeling his tip right against your cervix as you push a bit more. the boy hisses underneath you, his hands holding onto your hips as the cold, slippery touch of the walkman adds to the sensation. the music continues to play, the dreamy synth sound that is being overdriven by the noisy guitar. you slowly lift yourself, groans coming from both of you as you sink once again at the same pace.

“angel...” he whispers, making you lean forward as you continue the pace with heeseung’s own following behind. your lips open wide, eyes on his as both of your lips graze each other’s. he puckers his lips, capturing yours as you hold your up still with your hands across his torso. heeseung’s lips continue to move down and meet your collar; giving it a hard suck that you know will create a mark.

“heeseung-“

“you feel so fucking good. you’re doing so well.” his words encourage you more and more, changing between bouncing and grinding above him. your crotch sticking to his as you look down to see where you both are connected: strings of the sticky liquid joining both of you as you experimentally slow down, listening in to the moisture created by both of you. your muffled moan comes along with a smile as heeseung’s lips contorted to it as well, rolling on him as you lean your body back. heeseung’s free hand graces your front, brushing against your nipples and your tummy; creating goosebumps on your arms.

one of your hands reaches for his as you bring it to your clitoris, his finger moving once again as you can’t help to let out a loud gasp, quickening your pace.

“i, hah, i love-“ you bite your lip tight, hands pushing against heeseung’s body as you have to lift yourself up as your legs become tired from the folding and floating from before as well. “I’m gonna cum.”

the boy’s hand reaches for your upper back and pushes you down as you follow the pace of the rock-sounding song, reacting accordingly as you hear the chorus melody by rolling your hips before changing back to bouncing. heeseung brought your lips close to him, feeding each other’s moan when you felt your knees buckle and hands shaking. your neck is outstretched as you take in to breathe from your orgasm.

and the beats quicken, turning from heavy bass to heavy drums, and heeseung doesn’t stop the pace. hands holding onto your hips to push it down as he chases for his release.

“fuck!” your arms buckle as you sigh heavily against heeseung, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he breathes into your ear. your lips leave a little mark on him as you focus on the atmospheric sounds. skins slapping, moist, heavy breathing, your whimpers, his praises mumbled under his breath, the droning music in your ear.

he doesn’t need to say it when he pushes your hips down on him with a loud moan. warm liquid shoots inside of you as you already lift your head to watch his blissful face. heeseung’s eyes also rolled back—his adam’s apple bopping as he took huge breaths—before returning to his hooded state. the track ends with the chirping of birds and it fades to a stop.

only your exhales are heard as you stay in eye contact with him before you kiss him, signalling the end of your listening party with a full mind and heart.

-

everything seems to go back to normal, whatever normalcy is for you, but with a constant of heeseung in it.

he returns to his careful self—staying away or outright “making fun” of you—following eunho and the others. yet, lunch is always the time for you and him, resting your head against each other’s shoulder and then head, telling stories about each other as you expand about everything you know about heeseung and especially his love of moonstruck. angels dominate the conversation of the rest of the week, from the calm start to the sudden yet exciting dark yet upbeat songs. and because of that album, he interchanges in calling your name and angel.

your normalcy also includes your still existing “connection” with seona and the rest of the girls. the constant barraging, stealing of homework, and mockery are the ones that you still have to endure. you also had to realize that you’re not the only one being tormented by them—the result of a sudden encounter when you see a girl from another class curling on the floor, her glasses strewn away that you can’t help yourself but to interject before someone breaks it. and it results in you taking a beating right as they push the poor girl away in pain. but these days, you have a hunch that it’s getting harder. their punches have more force, resulting in your inner bleeding bruise actually turning very dark; the papers thrown or landed on your desk much more frequently, the girls encouraging eunho and the rest of the boys to add much more overt sexual sayings to you as you can’t help to peek behind you, finding heeseung’s mortified expression masked by an insincere smirk.

the phone buzzes inside your pocket as you pull it gently with the chains brushing against your hand. your eyes skim-read the message full of abbreviations as you hold on to your resting face, already knowing what to expect as you head to the side of your school building. a place where you had only seen the school gardener tend to the bushes there, a little alleyway in between the school building and the wall marking the school’s parameters. the usual place where you get more markings on your skin that you had to pull your socks higher to cover them up—always checking up on your blazer’s sleeves.

yet, even with such a predicament, something still feels off as you arrive at the narrow path: the smell of smoke.

even if it is familiar to you, you haven’t caught the girls smoking until now. they each have their own stick, holding it by pinching with their thumb and forefinger even with the stick still nearly as long as the one unburned. the way they smoke seems so unnatural to you it raises your awareness. and you can see it, behind the floating smoke, the appearance of seona and her agonizing smirk.

bracing yourself against the brick wall, you can sense your head pulsing and immediate dizziness coming in. risoo holds onto your blazer and you then realize that there is a torn in between the seams of the right arm sleeve and the shoulder area. your hearing turns into an automatic muffled option—letting their words enter from one ear and exit the other ear—as you brace yourself to toughen up your body and hold on to the pain once again. but the introduction of fire held by them is something that you don’t want anyone to experience. hopefully, it’s you and only you who will endure this.

because you had to look down at the newly formed round scars. you can already imagine the pain it is to heal and hide. the cigarettes were left on the floor to burn until the filter parts as you cower down, wiping away the tears of pain before you stomp them until they die. leaving only ashes and scars on your forearms. the heavy weight of the blazer burns against your open wounds, but you just can’t bring yourself to the nursery. as much as the school nurse will be there to treat you, you have been there so much that you feel ashamed about it. because you don’t deserve to be treated so much, knowing that there might be other people who need faster treatment than you.

you grind down on your teeth as you head back to class for the short break, walking past the unknowing people as you try to bear the pain by curling up your hand, the tense muscles making them more painful. a detour to the restroom makes you face yourself. you can see how pink your eyeballs are from the dried tear marks near your eyes. hisses coming from you as you hold yourself down from letting out such an agonizing scream when you feel the cold water brushing against the wounds, more tears forming from the corner of your eyes. your swollen nose is such an obvious appearance of your tearful self, so you clean your face too with the cold water, shocking yourself as you brace for the rest of the day.

as lunch comes and goes by, you hide it from heeseung—holding onto his hand as you snuggle up to his side while he eats the rest of your food from the lunch box. fingers curl in between his as sometimes you give a little pressure to dissipate the pain in your arm. but there is still someone that you can’t seem to hide as miss kang’s appearance startled your class by the end of the day. her eyes looking around the class as she talks about the dates for your final exams for the end of the semester, yet she seemed to land her eyes a little longer on you and especially at your hand that curled around the edge of your table, pressing it down with your grip to subside the pulsing pain.

that’s the only time that they play with fire. but, you might think that it might just be the beginning, especially with the increase in cat calls that many of the boys similar to eunho and heeseung’s group have been throwing at you even when you walked past them with your headset on and the cranberries cd playing in your walkman. and then, it started: heeseung didn’t show up to the rooftop for three days straight without even giving you an sms.

the rolling bandage wrapped around your forearms has covered the burned scars, hiding it still underneath your blazer even with the rising temperature as the season approaches summer. when you entered the class and approached your seat, you saw heeseung with his head laid on his table. slowly, you knock your knuckles gently against his table.

his head lifts as you meet his eyes as you observe him. a bandaid across the tall bridge of his nose, a faded bruise on his cheekbone, a clear sign of a black eye on the other, and a cut on the corner of his thick lips. your mouth opens, ready to let out whatever reassuring words that come to mind when his piercing glare stops you, he mouths a simple word.

“don’t.”

the back door of the class opens up with a loud bang as you take a glimpse at the boys coming in. heeseung gives a brief look before he pushes himself upright. recognizing the faces, you instantly move to sit on your chair, unpacking your bags to get out your stationary case and notebook. your ears revert to its “natural” phase of pushing people’s conversation out of your mind, especially if they are talking about you. the girls also arrived, but you see risoo is playing with her digital camera that has been there alongside your suffering.

as the morning class started and continue on, you felt a slight buzz in your skirt pocket. your eyes are focusing on the blackboard as you try to find the opening and drag your phone out by the strap. pressing the middle button, a notification appears on your screen that makes you want to let out a smile.

“hey, wanna meet up at the back of the school?”

you turn your head around as you meet the crown of heeseung’s head before he raises to meet you. yet, you were met with the same poker face you’ve always seen him wear to blend in. but you give him a small smile, hopefully that is enough of an answer for him, that, sure, a change of scenery will hurt no one, especially since you never interacted with him on school outside of the lunch break window of time. the first thing that you want to do when you meet him is to ask what happened to his beautiful face.

the constant happenings in your home make you succumb to tiredness, having a perfect quick nap in the middle of the class until you hear the rummaging and slides of chairs around you. pushing yourself up, you find a few students staying back in class. that’s when you remembered the meeting with heeseung at the back of the school. you’ve been there before and it is beautiful even with the small land as it looks like you stepped into a terrarium.

the leaves and branches from the tree separate the sunlight into beams, creating a perfect shade to the clear sky. your feet move with a mix of enthusiasm and hesitation, dragging them as you can still feel the bandage wrapped around your ankle. you abandoned the blazer, reminding of your trust in heeseung as he doesn’t even cover the bruises on his face. they drag across the gravelled path, as you turn your head around the corner to find the familiar sight.

the sight of his wide shoulders, ruffled black hair, with a brief glimmer in his eyes. but when you found him, he had his head hung low and hands behind his back.

“heeseung?” you called out. but when you want to step closer, ruffles are heard behind you with a sudden grip on your shoulders. the boy before you stood still, eyes on the ground and maybe just peeking to see the ends of your shoes.

dread fills you as you hear the person speak.

“well, isn’t it lovely? seeing you both here instead of the usual rooftop you both hang out on.”

eunho.

two forces gripped your hands at the same time as you could recognize the chuckles from the boys that stood there. youngbin approaches heeseung before standing behind him, taking hold of his hair before forcefully tilting it back. your eyes scan his appearance, how dim his usual shine is, and you shift your gaze beside him to discover the familiar girls standing aside, camera ready in risoo’s hand with seona standing by her with folded arms.

“you think we don’t know?” eunho added, feeling his head nodding as seona replied with a nod. “you think we don’t know the connection that you both have, huh newbie?”

“we can see them in class and don’t you think we didn’t catch you when both went out together?” youngbin said loudly from behind heeseung, hand holding his head still as you feel eunho’s breath brushing against your pierced earlobe.

“i knew that you were like your mother, but him, huh?” the boy behind you chuckles as his words plunge more to the acid in your stomach, making your gut react more than the sunken feeling it has felt as it lands on the bottom of the pit. you sense his hand moves from your shoulder to the side of your body, the uniform shirt clinging against your torso as you squirm when the fingers trailing down beneath your bosom. teeth grinding before you let out a cry that was muffled easily with eunho’s other hand.

“is heeseung really that good of a fuck?” youngbin speaks, taunting heeseung as he looks across at you and the way your body tense as eunho’s hand untucked your shirt from your skirt. fingers unbuttoning from the bottom of the shirt. your eyes shift to the chuckling girls as risoo has the camera right on you. yet, heeseung stayed still; you can’t read what he wants with this. why did he agree to this? you knew of the predicament you were in. being the lowest of the lowest in this very school.

eunho’s fingertips brush against your exposed skin as you hold on to your cry. “look how sensitive (y/n) is. well, all we want for you two is to entertain us.” the fingers continue to unbutton the shirt until the collar, exposing your bra to them. “you are our entertainment. so...” your eyelids widen as you see the furrow on heeseung’s brows. yet he stayed quiet. both eunho and youngbin lean in close to your ears as you hear their command at the same time.

“fuck him.”

“fuck her.”

your body is pushed to the front as your shirt flails, exposing more of your skin as you brace against heeseung’s body. lifting your head to glance at him, you take a peek around you before you whisper, “please.”

but when you felt heeseung’s arms wrapped around you, you knew that his familiar warmth was telling you something. something that makes your heart broken into smithereens.

“close your eyes. just feel me,” he whispers back.

he was coerced. he dangers himself to be with you and got caught. and now you are the collateral of his punishment.

heeseung’s kisses to the crook of your neck that is warmer as you close your eyes. focusing on his touch and shakes of the leaves that cover the rest of the people’s snickers. his grip begs you to let go of this world just for a moment, block out this memory so that it doesn’t traumatise you more. hopefully, it’s he and only he that will endure this.

you felt your body lying down on the gravel, the prickling little stone brushing against your skin as every rushed movement would caused another scratch on your body. heeseung’s hands brush against your bandaged forearms, a quick swipe as if he had to punish himself for not knowing these on your body. behind your eyelids, you see heeseung’s silhouette and focus on it. his hand brushes against your thigh as you are at the precipice of letting go. disassociate from your body for a second.

the boy leans down to cover your body with his as he plays with you as their entertainment but still covers you up for your dignity. you held down your lips as whimpers came out of you—you don’t know how long this will last, but you let yourself go to heeseung as your bandaged arms wrapped around his back. the sensation felt from your lower parts continue as the gravel movement increases around the both of you. heeseung’s head resting in the crook of your neck, wetting them up with the tears he can finally let go in a freefall-

“WHAT IS THIS?”

your eyes open wide as the piercing sun hurts them more. the legs of your bullies stood still as you looked from the gaps to discover two figures.

“we’re-“

“move out of the way.” the harsh voice sounds familiar as the legs are moved away alongside its bodies with the two figures approaching.

“oh, (y/n).” you looked up to find the worried face of miss kang, your homeroom teacher, and coach kim who was assessing the situation. and you had to wrap your arms around him more. the boy sobs muffled into your collarbone.

“p-please don’t punish heeseung.” you spoke up in a gravelly voice, “he’s with me. we’re-“

coach kim calls for someone as they turned the corner to find the school’s security guards surrounding the rest of the boys and girls. miss kang crouches down as she finally looks at your wrapped hands and the single bruise on heeseung’s face.

“oh...” her calm voice embraces the two of you as coach kim and the guards round up the people that were being entertained by you. yet you don’t want to let go of heeseung, scared for him more than he will face wrath from the teachers for your case. that you will defend him to be treated just like you are, because he had to endure it longer and he deserves them better than you.

-

《you know》

someone stands at the side of a large patch of grass. its emerald green piercing the eyes with some semblance of freshness. but also something dangerous.

《when you have stayed for so long in the space station》 《do you feel like you are able to reach for the moon itself?》

the figure walks forward, immersing themselves in the sea of grass as they approach one of the many steel towers that looked like dormant giants awaiting to be wakened up.

《yet space itself is a vacuum》 《and i heard that being in space with proper protection is like feeling the same pressure as when you are under the water》

much far away, a group of kids are flying colourful kites above the sky. the figure blinks, eyes following along with one of the kites that have tails trailing behind them. a small smile emerges on their face.

《and i feel like i am at the bottom of the ocean now》 《while all i want is to reach for the sky》

bandages adorned their arms as they dropped their backpack. some items spill out from the unzipped main pocket. a sight of the peeking walkman reflecting the sun.

《why does it hurt so much to emerge from the depths?》 《why does it hurt so much to even breathe the fresh air?》

their sweaty hands reach for one of the steel legs holding the transmission tower upright. with a huff, they pull their body up. it reminds them of when they used to climb up to the roof of the house when they were 5 years old. looking down at the streets of the neighbourhood with the house all empty of familial presence and love.

《why does it hurt so much when you can not reach the moon?》

step. step. step.

《and so》 《i decide to take it into my own hand》 《i will reach for the sky》 《climb the tallest structure i could underneath the clear sky》

they turned their body around, looking down at the plunge to assess it. one drop and a quick death for them. to end them all.

《i will reach for the moon》 《from: pearl

“(y/n)!”

the wispy wind blows against your wind when you look at the approaching figure running. you continue to hold on to the steel as the figure approaches, looking up with his face full of bandages as well.

《i want to reach the moon too》 《but moonstruck is enough for me to be able to reach there》 《you can get the taste of celeste here too》 《stay with us》 《stay with me》 《people admire you so much for what you have contributed to the space station》 《stay for them》 《stay for yourself》 《from: bambi

heeseung looks up with furrowed brows. his eyes landed on both of your hands that were holding the steel forming an angle. he sees your body trembling, a quiet sob reaches his ears.

《i will try》 《from: pearl

the boy stands near the leg as he sees your body turning, bringing you to take the step down the same way you went up. but its slippery angle makes you have to look down at the ground as well. you meet heeseung’s eyes as he stands right below you even with your blurry eyes.

“i’ll catch you,” he says with a pout on his face. you nodded your head, stepping down until he could reach for your waist before he lifted you off the steel beam and into his embrace. he looks down as you curl up against his chest, crying your eyes out and wetting his uniform shirt.

slowly he pulls away as he brings his hands to cup your face, your eyes still tilted downwards as he gives you a peck on the lips before it moves to your forehead and temple and he makes you rest your head against him once again. you focus on the sound of nature, how the chirping birds and the excited kids with their kites create a choir as they fly near each other in the sky.

days have gone by since that very incident. you still remembered how you told most of everything that transpired for you, prompting their conversation by pointing out the visible bruises and how they scarred your body. you also describe witnessing other people being bullied by them, how it affects your scores as well, and to also go to heeseung because he had felt the same thing. for the past years or so, you didn’t need to actually report to the school about this. because most of them don’t care, anyway. none of the adults care about people your age.

but when you heard the bullies were suspended for two weeks, you find that as a little victory when you came into the classroom to find their tables, alongside heeseung’s for the past three days because of his association. you let yourself talk to the other victims—most are the girls that were coerced by eunho to get them money as you learn their hardships as well. that with this punishment, at least he and the rest of the boys wake up from their trance. and yet, you still feel undeserving of treatment when there are people who need more. the survivor’s guilt ate you up from the inside until all you sense is the husk of yourself. none of your parents came to the school when coach kim told them to come, and you had to revert to your music once again until you felt that even it didn’t fill you up anymore.

your eyes landed on heeseung’s when you came into the class today. the guilt building up once again when you see him with his bandaged face. his stare pierces into the back of your head as you continue with class, your body cowering so much that you want to hide yourself from the glance of your fellow students and teachers. and during lunch, the first time you were supposed to have lunch with heeseung after three days by yourself, you grabbed your bag and left the school, citing the doctor’s appointment to the guard knowing just how bruised and in pain you were that day he found alongside coach kim and miss kang.

you didn’t realise heeseung had followed you until you met him and your rose-coloured glasses disappeared in an instant. that with you being gone doesn’t actually solve everything, especially with the people that you have connected with and your responsibility to them.

it’s too late for you both to go back to school now as the sun has gone its way down to the western horizon. your eyes focusing on the flying kites as its wonderful colours represent the various inner turmoils inside you. you felt him move to the side, letting you turn your body to sightsee as heeseung stood with his arm wrapped around you. his sigh catches you off guard as you peek towards him. his eyes darting with the recognizable expression of when he is thinking about an idea.

“do you want to go back to your house? i’ll be here with you.” his reassuring hand moves to hold you firm. lifting your head to read his face, your quiet reply with a nod of your head is enough for an answer as he tracks to grab your backpack and tidy it up. you can still feel how your legs are trembling as heeseung emerges from beside you with your backpack strap onto one side of his shoulders, arm behind your back as he leads the walk back to your house.

as you looked around the road you walked by, you could see the glances of the people working or resting. yet their gaze feels different now. none of the hostility you had experienced are there. the townspeople talk of the sexual harassment you endure and when they finally see you in your wounded galore; they finally understand. yet, they don’t want to act, at least make their children notice these things. the hardships their peers have experienced with the turn of the century and how scary it is to grow up at that window of time.

the walk down the road helps in calming the voices in your head. the reassurance that innocence still prevails comes from the elementary school kids who are now out of their schools, walking around and about as they have their snacks together before their parents search for them to come back home. you’ve never experienced it before, but you feel a tug on the corner of your lips as you watch them—to know that their innocence is still intact, unlike what you have experienced.

coming out of the last set of buildings, your house stood tall meters away from them—the sight of the transmission tower in the background reminds you just how close the place you wanted to end things from your abode. the hedges are now too overgrown that if it’s not because the exterior lights are on every night, it will look abandoned like it did months ago. you remembered heechan’s innocent gaze from the last time heeseung brought you back—the only time he brought you back here because you rather go alone back, much more discreet. and the house continues to stand tall, greeting the tenant who lives there—well, the one who consistently is there.

heeseung stops his tracks as he looks at the path down the carpark to where the entrance of the house is, his arm reluctant to let you go when you turn your head and ask, “do you want to go inside?” in your hushed voice.

one glance at the house and then at you; he gives the reins to you as you pull him with you down the empty path. you let out a sigh as he watches how your eyes are trailing around the face of the house. some windows are open as he sees floating ends of the sheer curtain spill out of the shadowy background. your hand reaches for his upper arm as you walk around him, opening up the front pocket of your backpack as you pull out the house key: the main house key.

pushing the key into the hole, you turned it as you heard the few clicks before you pushed down the handle and opened the door, tucking your shoes off by the door as you nudged your head for him to follow. stepping inside the house, his sock-covered feet walk across the wooden boarded floor as he is greeted with the sight of boxes stacking behind the sofa. most of these boxes are the usual brown boxes with labels written on the side. some were open, some were supposed to when he caught the sight of a pocket knife on one of them. but the others are boxes of various luxury brands that he can only imagine his parents only have one or two of their products. the room is dark as only the sunlight goes in from the open window.

it looks more like a storage than a home.

heeseung follows your moving figure as you approach what looks to be the kitchen and dining area. it is clean with only leftovers of unwashed pans available, stacks of recognizable lunch boxes resting on the counter beside the stove before he glances at the dining table where there is only a single plate on it even with the three chairs surrounding the table. the only signs of living and it comes with the semblance of you as you place your lunch box on the counter, waiting for it to be reheated when you are actually hungry. looking up from the box, you had turned your body to look at him.

“come, let me show you my room.” you trail back down the path you have taken, dragging your sock-covered feet against the floor as he walks behind you, the question already at the tip of his tongue as he pushes to ask.

“you’re alone here?” his voice lifted in intonation as you replied with a hum before adding more.

“they haven’t been home for a few days now. probably doing their usual thing.”

his steps stopped as you stood in front of the door which he could read from your action is yours. your hand reaches for the handle, hearing you take a breath, as you push the handle and open the door for him to be met with a surprising view.

across from him is a large familiar poster. it shows a nighttime landscape. a girl stood in front of a clear sky with the white shiny moon behind it. but the writing underneath the moon is the one that struck him.

moonstruck.

stepping forward, he lets out a small gasp.

around the room, he notices familiar images that he had seen both online and offline. some are the ones he had seen when he was thinking of buying merchandise, but he couldn’t. posters of bands that heeseung knows also have celeste aura collected on one side of the room. mazzy star, the cranberries, the velvet underground, all stood next to the calendar of the year 2000 and the map of south korea with a few pins sticking to them. but its space is compact compared to the moon imagery throughout the rest two sides of the room as the other is where the large window is, opening to the backyard with the sky turning purple. shifting his head once again, he finds a familiar site of a computer set sitting in the room's corner. the desk where the desktop screen stands has a stack of cds by moonstruck but also by her old band, nexus, but there alongside them rests a set of accessories of bracelet and necklace made of silver chain and white pearls.

yet, his eyes caught onto the lit-up screen of the desktop, they shifted at the familiar formatting of the screen he had many times visited. the black background and white-coloured text, the little emoticons of stars and moons,and the side of the screen where you can see the username of the owner of the account. and on top of the page is the recognizable banner of the moon and the typography spelling “space station.”

“you’re-“

“yes.” he turns his head as you approach the desk; opening your files folder so he could see the specific titles of the files. you click twice using your mouse, clicking the shuffle symbol as the familiar guitar of erotic plays from the computer’s speaker.

“i’m pearl. and you’re bambi.” you turn around your body and stand your ground, observing his face.

the pearl that was there when he had first entered the space station—the moderator and owner. the pearl that introduces him to more musicians similar to moonstruck. the pearl that was there assuring him everything was going to be okay. the pearl that he had convinced to not end it all.

it’s you.

“how’d you know-“

“i’ve recognised some details you have written about in the space station. but especially when bambi mentioned someone opening up to them and how they need convincing for bambi to also open up, and that day by field is the day after it. it’s too much of a coincidence.” you stepped forward and every step was full of hesitation as you arrived in front of him.

“i have. i’ve never met a moonstruck fan before other than myself and the first thing i do when i go to a new place is to not let people know that i love this artist who doesn’t know me so much. to not seem so fanatic about it and to wallow in it by myself. but when i met and you introduced me to moonstruck.” you gulped your saliva, “i just had to pretend that i didn’t know her when i know her so much, so that you can continue to talk to me about it, and i will not be as lonely as i am all the time.”

heeseung watches how pearly tears fall from the corner of your eyes. your facade breaks right in front of him along with the action that you were doing to hurt yourself before. he understands you so much, hiding a part of yourself that you know will be embarrassing to people and letting only the closest people learn about them. the memory of his moonstruck cd break under youngbin’s touch came into mind—the only thing that mattered to him at that time. your eyes were always gleaming with a sense of excitement when he put on moonstruck songs for you. he thought that it was because you were excited to hear new music, but he now realizes that it is because he makes you listen to his and your favourite artist.

when he read pearl’s message on the forum chat, he can’t help but think about the predicament himself alongside the experiences he had endured. yet, he had the time to speak to pearl just like how pearl speaks to him, a sense of companionship growing, knowing that people are thankful for pearl for moderating and sharing the latest pieces of information about moonstruck, but also for being there for the people no matter how empty the forum sometimes is like you only speak with the void.

he had saved you twice.

heeseung wraps his arms around you and gives you a tight hug, both of your backpacks fall down his shoulders as you feel even calmer than before. an enormous weight just also dropped from your shoulders as he puts the context of the times when he chats with pearl now with the face of you there. moving your head gently, he wiped the corner of the doe-like eyes looking at him as he let out a small pout.

“thank you. for creating space station. for connecting me more with moonstruck. for being there for me and giving me advice.”

“ditto,” you replied with a pout on your lips as well. yet your eyes still have cracks in them. cracks coming from the memories and experiences you have had and shared with him verbally or together, all culminating to today that he will always be thankful to go after you.

you had been his anchor for the semester. you had shown him that the life he is living is problematic in many ways. the friends he hangs out with regard him as the lowest in their group—not treated as a friend should be. but with you, he had felt more feelings he didn’t know existed for all his young life. and when he sensed your lips, he could sense your contemplation: all the turmoil you experiencing.

heeseung stumbled back when he felt the mattress hit behind his knees, making him sit down as you straddled his lap. his hands holding on to yours as you pulled away from the feverish kiss. your brows folded as you stared at his agape lips, the way his bangs framed him perfectly so that you could see his little freckle on his forehead. but he can see how you shook your head slightly. your hands move as you grab his wrist, pulling his hand so that it curves around your neck—reaching for his fingers to close it. his eyes flicker to look at his hand and your face, watching it tense as you put pressure on his fingers against the column.

“i want you... to fuck my pain away, heeseung.” your eyes shifted from his outstretched arm to his face.

“you’re going to get hurt more-“

“i trust you.” you slowly lower your hand and let him control the pressure yourself. “i give you my consent. i just, i don’t want to feel anything other than you.”

you lean in, resting your forehead against his as heeseung looks at your eyes closing. his hand still holding onto the curve of your neck. he can’t help but share the rage you felt. he knew he deserved it—the three-day suspension. but for the rest to only be given two weeks when their action culminated in bringing someone to the brink of death is unjustifiable. teenagers and their lack of consequences, and the adults who also don’t punish them hard enough. he could feel the contempt exuding from you and with the way you seem to let go of control, you truly trust him that you won’t get hurt under his care. no matter how hard he is going to be.

heeseung kisses your lips; they move around yours to create a sloppy mess as he holds your neck so you won’t move, earning a low moan from you as he pushes his tongue in between the gap. the muscles poke against your cheeks before battling with yours, his hand reaches for your uniform shirt as he unbuttons them one by one, exposing your bra to him as he gives one of your breasts pressure with his free hand. you groan against his mouth, making him pull away as you look at him with your hooded eyes and breathless face. he pulls your hands to his chest as they unbutton his shirt while he attacks your exposed collar, marking your skin with his touch and bite as he could feel your body trembling.

he hadn’t worn any t-shirt under the uniform today when you trace your fingertips against his muscles, teasing him like it is intentional as he groaned before he held you and positioned you off of his lap. your body is flailing like a doll as you let him move you into any position he wants: on your hands and knees. he kneels behind your bent-over body, lifting the uniform skirt as he is met with the sight of your underwear—a little wet patch already there.

“you’re that wet for me?” he says with a smirk on his face and you reply with a mumbled “yes” from your face against the pillow. he watches as you turned your head so you could catch what he is going to do. his cock hardens underneath his pants as he wipes his thumb against the wet patch, feeling your folds separating because of it. you take a sharp breath when he pulls your underwear down your thigh and pulls it off your legs and you let out a moan when you felt his wet tongue giving the slit a lick.

“hee-“ you shifted your body so you could watch him as the vibration of his hums added more to the sensation. continuing to moan, you let them out as loud as possible. nobody lives near you and nobody seems to live here other than you.

“ack!” your body moves forward with the force of his slap against your butt cheek, feeling your lower region shaking as your grip against your pillow tightens, making you see your bone knuckles against your skin. drool comes out of your lips and pools on the pillows as you hear a zipper opening when you tilt your head once again.

“more-“

“you want more?” heeseung gives another spank as you reply with a moan but also nods. when you felt the familiar hard blunt tip against your entrance, you had already braced yourself. but you didn’t expect him to push nearly half of his shaft into your wet cavern. your walls deliciously adapt to his cock with such muscle memory.

“i’m giving you more.” his hand reaches for yours and brings them behind. his hip starts to thrust at a steady pace as your muffled moan vibrates in the room alongside the magical sound of moonstruck from the corner of your room. playing the songs in a shuffle that also represents the various emotions that are hard to define as it is ever-changing. heeseung bent forward and traced his lips down your spine covered by the uniform, his own threatening to fall down his shoulder as he continued to push the skirt upwards above your bottom.

when he reaches around for your neck, you let him pull you up as your back arch with your head resting on his shoulder. his face rested beside your ear as you both in sync.

“fuck, angel. you feel so good squeezing me.”

“s-so full- ah!” you continue to move your hips in tandem with his thrust, feeling his tip kissing your cervix as he traces his lips across your exposed collarbone to your bra strap. heeseung trails his hand downwards—pressing against the area above your mound—he could sense the faint movement of him inside you.

“cum for me, angel,” he seductively whispers as you clawed against his skin when he hugs your shaking body. the gush falls down and seeps out from between your connected areas as you whine when you feel him pulled out. that is when he turned your body so that you lay down under him, letting him kiss your lips once again with as hard of a force as when he fucks you.

you moaned against his lips when he slips inside you once again, your hand brushing the shirt away as you trace his stitches scar on the collarbone before he distracts you when he flips the cup of your bra upwards as he leans down to give your nipple a suck. another hand of yours curl up in his hair, curling your legs too with how great it is as you feel like you are floating from the sensation you felt. you glance downwards to watch heeseung marking you across your chest while still moving at a pace that allows him to chase your orgasm once again. but you knew it is his turn to cum.

lifting his head up, you stare him in the eye as you let your trance mind jumble up the words that could entice him more.

“use me. fuck, baby. please.” coherent mumbles come out of you with a price as he lifts your legs and pushes them against your chest. your eyes are rolling backwards as you let him drop his moan against yours, chasing down the high that he wants to experience once again with you. sweat trailing down your skin as you can feel him buckle. eyes pleading with him to give you his all.

“i’m cumming,” he mentioned as he let out beautiful moans alongside the warm liquid bursting and spreading inside you. both of you breathe hard, taking in each other’s pace as you look outside the window to only notice that the light outside is from the exterior lamps you turned on while in the kitchen and the moon shining brightly into your room. moonstruck’s music continues as your computer plays one of her singles.

your arms reach for him as heeseung lies down against your body. your orgasm coming in late, but you still felt yourself clamping down on him. not wanting to let go. your mind has finally felt much clearer from the worries of the world that you could mostly ignore.

the bed covering and duvet continue to flood in both of your sweat as you pull off the rest of his and your uniforms. he helps you straddle him and places his cock to plunge inside you when you push down. round after round were done with no words of command spoken. only a look from each other’s eyes after a five-minute break was enough for him to lay you down and fuck you into oblivion. the songs are never ending as you continue to be enraptured by each other in different positions and location on the bed. and when you looked at the clock, ticking its hands as the time went, you could understand that it had been hours you’d spent in this whole thing when you arrived here.

your head rests on his pectorals, kissing the collarbone stitch on his shoulder, as you both stare at the plain ceiling where the moonlight meets the warm orange light from the bedside lamp. heeseung’s arm wraps around the middle, soothing you with his palm on your back as you both shared chuckles at what happened hours before. how it goes from one end of the spectrum to the other in a plunge and how you both reciprocate it. yet, there are still some nagging questions after he had uncovered many things about you, from the obvious to the minute details.

“so, you’re the one that created space station?” his soft voice calls for you as he hears you hum.

“i see it as a good opportunity to connect with like-minded people; the internet. and so, i learned how to be a webmaster and create this where i can talk about moonstruck. it used to be more of a personal website but because there are many frequent guests, i decided to make it more of a forum for discussion.” your soft sigh caught his attention as he looked to see you already looking at him.

“it helps me cope with my loneliness from moving around. like i have a purpose to do in life, but even that is not enough when everything becomes too overwhelming and i... you know...” you tilted your head, making him think of the catalyst that brought him to your house and realize who you also are.

“the map of korea with the pins and the boxes...” heeseung builds up his sentence, “are you moving again?”

“ah...” you chuckle as your eyes shift to the faint map on the other side of the room. “i don’t know. depends on how much trouble my parents are with their spending, evading, and gaslighting. they don’t put away their stuff out of the box thinking that the people who chase them will come after them again and we have to move. but honestly, i just want a place to stay for even one year. let me finish high school and i can step aside from troubling them with their lifestyle... like a burden.” your eyes blink, their puffy from the tears of pain before and pleasure recently, but he can see the slight shimmer in your eyes coming back once again.

“the map is the places that i want to visit in the country. just stepping aside from seoul and its surrounding areas to visit the southern coast. i mostly want to visit yeosu. it is a small city unlike busan but it's on an island but smaller than jeju island. i also haven’t visited jeju. people said it is so much different compared to seoul.”

heeseung continues to rub your bare back as he takes in your thoughts, yet his mind pins the mention of the place that changed everything for him.

“i have been to jeju. the trip that i mentioned to you with that whole thing that changed eunho.”

your head rose as you held your hands against the mattress and his chest, looking at him as the boy had to close his eyes. remembering the events that transpired at that time.

“the tour guide there said to me a person died three times. first, the body dies, and then the heart, and lastly, the soul.” he brought one hand of his to cup your cheek. “eunho’s body died when we were bullied in middle school when he dared to defy the bullies and gotten punch so hard he had a concussion. his heart died when he discovered his parents were divorcing on that very trip. and his soul died that day, getting ripped away by the riptide on the coast of jeju island.”

heeseung looked aside before flicking his eyes back to you, “well...” he gulped, “he is the one that introduced me to moonstruck. when i was doing his errands. i think it’s also a reason i stick by him other than being his friend way back then.”

a bell rings in your mind with the new information, your cheek leaning closer to him as you now understand why he sticks so long with eunho. he was the anchor of heeseung’s life: revolving his life to accommodate eunho and how without the boy, heeseung would’ve not found out about moonstruck. the words he has spoken tell more of a story of gratitude wrapped in melancholy. a story of friendship tainted by the harshness of life, but instead of cowering in loneliness like you do, he held himself up to hang out with the “wrong crowd” instead.

“i think i’m stepping into that cycle of death myself. my body died when he controlled me to give him money and beat me up if i refused to do so. and... my heart nearly died when i thought i would never see you again.” his thumb brushed underneath your eye and he saw the tears clouding his sight.

“i am so, so sorry for making you go to the back of the school. i-“

“you were coerced, heeseung. it’s an all-or-nothing situation for you. and i just feel like that’s the best option you have in comparison to other options. i’m sorry as well for not stepping away from you when you had mentioned to do so. i, well, knowing just how similar our interests are does not make me want to let you go.”

“and that is very normal, (y/n).” he replies back to you. “i just hated that he and the others, including the girls, are only given two weeks knowing how many victims they have in this very school.” heeseung pushed his head back into the pillow and letting out an exhale.

“he won’t stop. people like him won’t stop. their reasoning for their bullying is too superficial that it changes over time. jealousy mostly. but it will still happen even after school.” you added to his mind palace, letting your head rest against his chest once again.

“let him go so you can move on.”

the words seep into heeseung’s mind as they echo. turning his head, he gives you a short lovely kiss with a small smile growing on his face.

“i have to.”

-

《moonstruck concert!!!》 《this saturday in seoul》 《from: 1004

《hey everyone!》 《i’ll be going to the concert tomorrow》 《if you ever see someone holding a green apple》 《it’s going to be me》 《let’s link up!》 《from: silver

the screeching noise of the rails vibrates along with the shake of the cart. you are wearing an all-white outfit from top to bottom. both of your knees were covered with knee pads as you looked down to examine the cigarette burns fading and blending in with the rest of the skin of your forearms. trailing your sight following the hand lands on fingers wrapping beside yours, heeseung’s head tilting back as he watches the lights of the train car light up with every movement towards the venue of the sports stadium. both of your tickets were in one side of his pockets as he had the other one inside the other where he stores his needed stuff.

both of you blend in the crowd as you walk out of the train and arrive at the station. as you climb the stairs up towards the roads, you both step aside from the bigger crowd to join the smaller crowd that is leading the path towards the venue. on the way there, you observe people in various shapes and sizes with their outfits approaching the enormous stadium that you can see across from where you are. you don’t let go of heeseung’s hand as you turn to the side, booths upon booths of food and beverages stand along with a merchandise booth beside the large jumbotron showing moonstruck’s promotional videos for angels, stopping both him and you on your tracks. but you also follow him to look towards the queue to get into the stadium—both of you holding the tickets for the best spots in the stadium.

“let’s divide and conquer. what merch do you want?” he stands close so he can whisper to you, the hand with both of your tickets still beside yours as you grab them tight.

“a small one that we can share. postcards maybe?”

“hmm... i’ll surprise you, angel.” he kisses your temple before pushing aside, “stand in the line for us.”

you smile back as he moves to cut the line of crowds towards the merchandise booth, seeing him blending in with his unbuttoned black shirt and white t-shirt combo. turning around, you head towards the line to stand by the stadium premises. the sky is approaching the evening as you gaze at half of the sun nearly covered by the large stadium. you take every step forward, looking around at the people that come here. in your imagination, you might have seen only a bunch of young people—teenagers to college age—who come to moonstruck’s concert. but you don’t expect many working-age adults and even those approaching middle age also be here. a smile emerges from your lips; moonstruck’s music transcends age and generations.

from your hearing, you caught a few mentions of your community of space station. how a few of the people hug as they seem to get to know each other from there. the sound of shrieking excitement sounded from a bunch of girls who wear outfits uniformed to the moon colours of the three albums of moonstruck. yet, your eyes are searching for two things: green apple of silver and heeseung.

having been the most active person when you are also online, silver is someone very knowledgeable about moonstruck. your opinions agree with each other and they also follow through with your celeste aura theory—making it spread to the online moonstruck fandom that you can feel your heart flutter from hearing some people mentioning it, especially the older ones. because of that connection, you really want to meet up with them and share your love of moonstruck with them. silver seems to be close to bambi especially when giving him the opinion so that heeseung could open up to you, so you hope those two could close online as well as offline.

your head turns to peer at the start of the queue, searching for heeseung as you stand as close to the edge of the lines as possible so that he can step inside and stand beside you. instead, you heard commotion coming from behind the cue.

“hey, brother. line the fuck up.”

“young boys and their little capacity for awareness.”

shifting back, you find the person who is making this ruckus, but when you look down to meet the green apple in his hand and the face of the owner, you can feel how your heart plummets down into the depths of earth.

“(y/n)!”

“eunho...”

you wanted to puke out the meal you and heeseung had before coming here as your eyes still looked at the green apple, not wanting it to be true until you could read the name “silver” on it written with a black marker. his arm drapes behind you. the sight of the green apple on your shoulder taunts you as you feel him holding you close.

“are you here alone?”

“no, i’m with-“

“ah,” he gasps inauthentically, “oh yeah, with heeseung, where is he anyway? that is so bad of him to leave you alone like that.”

your body reacted to move away from him and go back to heeseung’s embrace. but you looked down to see the hand that was holding your tickets was replaced with the green apple. the person before you had her ticket checked and cut through with a paper puncher and skips happily after she passes, resulting in both of you now standing together. eunho holds three tickets: one of his from the seating section and two of yours from your standing section near the stage. his nimble fingers quickly move to tuck the seating ticket away as the security punches the hole for the rest of the tickets and pushes you forward, stopping you from moving away as you remember the terms and conditions.

tickets with the punched holes aren’t able to enter the premises again.

your eyes watch in horror as you feel your nails pierce into the apple’s skin as you turn your body around, tip-toeing to search for heeseung’s familiar face in the crowd.

“heeseung!” you called out to him as you saw someone raising an arm up.

“(y/n)!” the voice calls you back as you find him in the line you were just in. you want to run to him, but eunho’s hand is too fast as he brings you back and slams you against his front. his arm wrapped around you as he pulls out the last ticket in his grasp, showing heeseung how it looks intact with no holes. his tight push against your chest and upper arms can’t make you raise them as the sound of the paper ripping makes you hiss and your eyes tremble with rageful tears. the ripped paper falls onto your chest as you collect it and push him away with all your might.

“FUCK YOU!” you run towards the security as heeseung is approaching close to the barricade. tears threatening to fall down your face as you approach one of the guards by the place.

“please let me out!” you plead as you find heeseung’s figure, his smile has fallen.

“you know you can’t step back inside-“

“i know. please, it’s an emergency,” you replied with a lie as the guard looked back at you before moving aside to let you walk away from the premises. you run towards heeseung as he looks at you with a panic in his face before his eyebrows furrowed.

“what is happening?” you cut him as you grab his arm and pull him away from the line, as far from the crowd approaching to enter the stadium, before you hug him tight.

“i’m so, so sorry.” he hears your mumbled voice as you cry into his chest. you felt the paper bag of the merchandise behind you as you pulled your head away for you to talk.

“what’s wrong, angel?”

you show him the green apple, nearly mushed from your grip as the writing on it is still readable, “it’s him.”

“silver, you met them?”

“yeah,” you take a deep breath, “it’s eunho.”

heeseung’s furrowed brows deepen, looking into your eyes to determine if you are actually telling the truth or not. but when he sees just how heartbroken you are inside, he knows it is true.

“he, he got our tickets and pushed me inside with them.” you pushed the crushed bits of paper in your other fist as you opened the palm and showed it. “this one is his. he tore it up so that you couldn’t get in.” you finished speaking as another gush of tears comes out of you, looking at his expression as you brace yourself to cower when you see the familiar spark of flame in his eyes lights up again.

instead, you felt him enveloped his hands around you. the sound of the screaming from inside is thrown away as the sky continues to darken. the mix of many emotions enveloped both of you as you felt him whisper in your ears.

“we’re going to be okay. we can sit down here and look at the jumbotron. everything will be fine.”

you hummed, every turmoil inside you move to his assuring words; mending both of your heart that is shattered into smithereens. when you hear the bass vibrating, you shift to the side as you stare at the stadium with the purple sky in the background. both of you stare at the concert venue full of “what should be”s as he brings you to sit aside on the warm pavement.

wiping your tears away, you look down at the paper bag heeseung bought from the merchandise booth as he pulls out the postcard set, but also a pair of small hoop earrings with crescent moons motive for you both to share with your pierced ears. your eyes gleamed as observed them before giving him a hug. you both listen along to the songs played even with the distance, recognisable to your ears as both of you compete to whisper the title as fast as possible. the light of the jumbotron competes with the one from inside the stadium, the city of seoul, and the beautiful nighttime sky. you see many visitors who are also eavesdropping on the concert, some buying the merch as you discussed if you have enough money to buy the remaining t-shirts.

hours pass as you both lay down on the pavement, listening to moonstruck like you always do on the rooftop, by the fields, and in each other’s bedroom as you see the little white dots in the sky. that is when you see the jumbotron changed, showing a new video you have never watched for the amount of cycle that has happened.

pushing your body upright, you walked to the front of the jumbotron screen that is much more massive than you: live footage from inside the venue.

moonstruck, her figure with her identifiable flowing long hair now as short until it reaches her shoulders. a guitar hanging by the strap across her body, strummed by her hands as you also noticed how the video behind her shows the beautiful supernova—hearing the song with the title playing.

your eyes looking between the girl and the picturesque video of the moon, remembering the moment when you wrapped so close to heeseung when you listened to this song for the first time. eyebrows furrowed as you felt the nerves around your eyes reacting. the shine of the screen reflects on you as even with the minimal colour, the prominent neon captures and swallows you into the colour that it reaches you deep. you take many sharp breaths, pushing yourself down as you don’t want to cry again.

the song continues as you look at the moon behind moonstruck. pink colour from the angels cover art captures your attention as you let out a pout, peeking from the corner of your eyes at the figure of the familiar boy who has his head turned to you. the ringing of her voice lingers as instruments disappear one by one. the screen shows the entire moon video, the pink and now purple shining right before you as you look down to see the text.

wanna fly towards the moon?

your fingers curl as you turn your palms to meet his; his own already moving instinctively and locking them with yours, agreeing to do what is written if it is with you.

the crowd from the concerts steps out into crowds of different sizes. there, left astray, walks eunho as he steps out by himself, his eyes glaring around to find a familiar face he has seen before the concert or the familiar face of the boy who had been by his side for the past 5 years. he found the former.

you still hold on to his green apple, feeling the brushes of shoulders walking past you as you continue to look at the dispersing crowd. your free hand is in a fist as you are met with the smile that haunts you and also heeseung. eunho takes his time, whisking around and about like nobody is watching him as he meets his eyes with you.

but then he heard a scream of a boy, a recognizable voice.

“there’s moonstruck.”

one.

“moonstruck is here.”

two.

the people that were walking past you turned around as eunho did and your eyes continued to stick to him. then, the gush of wind came as people behind you walked past forward and back towards the stadium. screams of moonstruck being sighted echo to the night as you felt eunho’s eyes back on you, lifting the hand that was holding his green apple as you take a bite of it before you are being covered by the rushing crowd. all coming near to where eunho stands.

his eyes continue to look towards the back, wanting to find the appearance of the musician who helped him through the trials of life as he felt himself going back into the crowd. hands pushing each other to move forward to return to the stadium. but one push felt so painful that he had to glance down: a trail of blood coming out beneath his t-shirt. his vision is full of rage that slowly dissipates as he looks behind to find the eyes of the person who had been with him: heeseung. eunho expected his friend could help him, but as his vision darkens, the sight of the boy escapes as he pushes past the crowd and goes towards the city.

heeseung emerges from the crowd as you let out a tremendous relief, hearing the loud cheers turn to panic.

“stand up! someone fell.” one of them travels to your ears as you watch heeseung jog back to you, wiping the bloodied pocket knife you let him borrow across his black shirt before flipping it back and putting it in his jean pocket where his tickets were supposed to be.

your footsteps quicken as you both walk away as far from the crowd as possible, hearing the scream of medics calling to the crowd as you both walk away. handing out the bitten apple, he takes a bite of it himself before he reaches for your hand and wraps them in his on the way back to your town.

to go back to a place where everything will be much more than normal as you both close this cycle of madness: beginning your lives again.

-

《the death of the boy at moonstruck’s seoul concert is haunting》 《from asphyxiation by the crowd crush to a stab to his back》 《someone was out for him》 《from: d1sc0rd

《that day changes the whole of space station and the rest of moonstruck’s fandom outside of it》 《was moonstruck actually there?》 《from: toro82

《she is...》 《i don’t know》 《seems like it》 《i was there too》 《also》 《it’s weird that pearl is not here》 《i hope they’re okay with the talk of the dead boy》 《from: 1004

《it’s creepy knowing that someone's last song to hear is moonstruck’s》 《from: walker0

《let’s hope pearl is okay》 《maybe they’re taking a rest because of this incident》 《we all should》 《from: cosmiccomet

-

the appearance of the flower vase on the seat beside you makes you harden as you listen to miss kang’s last remark before summer vacation starts.

your eyes look towards the corner of the room as you also see empty tables that belonged to your bullies, now vacant as the two girls are frazzled with the recorded evidence that landed them on hot waters alongside the boys with their punishments and the death of eunho. turning around, you checked out heeseung who has let the hair by his nape get long. his bangs framing his forehead as he looks at you with a smirk on his face.

drastic changes happen to heeseung after he closes the cycle with you, his words ringing into your head as you remember laying down beside him and watching the moon by the stadium.

“he won’t hurt more people again.”

and when he did the deed and waited at the station that would bring you home, he gave you a very hard kiss that took your breath away before giving the pocket knife back to you.

you walk past the entrance of the school building for the last time this semester as you peer down the road to find heeseung waiting for you by the gate.

“ready to get your bag?” he playfully asks as you nudge him with your shoulder.

“of course i do. the train ticket is right there and we won’t be able to go if i didn’t grab them.”

his giggle fluttering across from the two of you as you walked, remembering the plan of getting your bag from your house before going to heeseung’s to pick up his bag and greet heechan one last time—you know many things will change for the month his older brother will be away.

heeseung’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both walk down the road together, bringing you close to him as you feel his kiss linger on your temple before he whispers in your pierced ear, the crescent moon earring mirrored with his own.

“we see how we will settle there at yeosu. create connections and all.” you blinked your eyes as you shifted your head to look at him.

“one more year and we will live there...” his words echo the promise you both make.

“one more year and we will leave this place behind...” you continue the promise as you grab his hand and give the back of it a kiss, continuing to walk to your destination.

one more year and you will be with each other in your next lives.

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @sunpov @ineedsomezzz @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity @deobitifull @mheretoreadff @gandaengene @amaraeofsunshine @nyxtwixx @heekirei

© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2025. all rights reserved

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍɪᴛʜꜱ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘢

fluff, kissing, tiktok trend, established relationship, soft!matt but he won't admit it, goofy, idiots in love

requested by @applecidersturniolo !

word count - 700ish

You’re sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, holding your phone up for him to see. He’s half-sprawled out next to you, scrolling through his own phone like he’s not that interested, but you can tell he is.

“Do you wanna do this trend with me?” you ask, nudging his arm.

Matt glances over, barely lifting his head. “What trend?”

You flip your phone around, pressing play on the 500 Days of Summer audio. He watches, brows furrowing slightly as it plays. Then, the couple on the screen lunge at each other, kissing so hard they fall out of frame.

Matt’s eyes flick back to you, unreadable for a second. Then, he snorts. “Wait. So we just say the lines and then, like… violently make out?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “It’s romantic, Matt.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s fighting back a grin now, still acting like he’s above it. “And we have to disappear out of frame?”

“Yes.”

Matt exhales through his nose, staring at you like he’s already regretting agreeing to this. But then he sets his phone down, stretches his arms over his head, and mutters, “Alright. Let’s make some cinema.”

Take one.

The camera is propped up, slightly off-center, the lighting warm and dim. You try to keep a straight face, turning toward him.

“I love The Smiths.”

Matt stares at you blankly.

“Matt,” you whisper, nudging his leg.

He blinks. “Oh, wait. Sorry?”

You dissolve into laughter, covering your mouth. “You’re supposed to say it, not actually be confused.”

Matt groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, okay. Again.”

Take two.

“I love The Smiths.”

“Sorry?”

“I said—”

Before you can even finish, Matt lunges at you. No warning, no hesitation, just full-on crashes into you, completely messing up the timing. You yelp, hands flying up to steady yourself as you both fall out of frame way too soon, almost falling off the bed as you knock the phone also.

The camera catches nothing but the ceiling and a blur of movement.

Silence.

Matt groans, “That was terrible.”

You’re already wheezing, clutching your stomach. “Matt, we looked insane.”

He smiles at you, kissing you anyway before flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe we are.”

Take three.

This time, you’re focused. You inhale, make sure Matt is actually ready.

“I love The Smiths.”

“Sorry?”

“I said—I love The Smiths.”

And then, perfectly on cue, you both lean in, slow at first—teasing, just the briefest brush of lips, the softest press before you feel the heat of Matt’s breath.

And then, without warning, Matt pulls you in harder, a bit desperate, the kiss deepening immediately. His hands find their way to your hair, tugging you closer as his lips move against yours with a softness that surprises you.

You gasp against his mouth, hands gripping the front of his shirt, and for a second, it feels like it’s just the two of you in this quiet room. The kiss is hungry now, full of little moments that have led up to this, a little bit of teasing, a little bit of need, the world fading away as the kiss intensifies, pulling you off the edge of the bed in the process.

As you both fall, tangled in each other, you end up just out of frame, your bodies twisting as you kiss with the kind of urgency that makes everything feel perfect.

The last shot is just the empty bed, a lamp flickering softly in the background. You shuffle in Matt’s grasp, trying to get closer as he continues kissing you, pulling you even further into him.

When he finally pulls away, breathless, his forehead rests against yours for just a moment before he pulls back slightly, a small smile curling at his lips.

"Was that too much?"

And obviously, when you post it, the comments explode.

“They practiced this. I know they practiced this.” “This is EXACTLY how the trend is supposed to be done.” “Matt looking at her. Stop im so single” “The way he’s definitely watching this back 50 times.”

And Matt? He acts chill, like he doesn’t care that much, but later, when you glance at his phone, you catch a glimpse of the video playing again.

Just once. Maybe twice.

credits to rose for the dividers !! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: some more fluff even though i am anti-fluff this kinda made me smile jsdkhfksjh

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @sturnsrecordfaves @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

[xo-myloves]

SLASH SUGAR BABY

like he punishes her for talking to a guy her age

So like heavy smut and then fluff

Pleaseeeee

-🧛‍♀️

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑..

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༞༞༞༞༞

Slash wasn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what he told himself. He’d been with enough women, seen enough shit, and lived through enough insanity to think he was above that kind of petty bullshit.

But then he saw you. Sitting at the bar, drink in hand, laughing at something some punk-ass kid had just said to you. Some guy your age, flashing you a grin like he had a shot. Like he didn’t realize who the fuck you belonged to.

Slash clenched his jaw, exhaling smoke through his nose like a fucking dragon. His whiskey glass was already sweating in his grip, and he took a long swig, setting it down harder than necessary. The bartender gave him a wary glance, but he ignored it. His eyes were locked on you.

You looked good—too fucking good. That short little dress, the curve of your thigh as you crossed your legs, the way your lips parted just a little when you smiled. He knew exactly what you were doing. Maybe not on purpose, but fuck, did it matter?

The kid leaned in closer, and Slash saw red.

Without thinking, he pushed off from the table, stalking toward you like a predator. The second you saw him, your smile faltered. The guy you were talking to—some floppy-haired, clean-faced dipshit—glanced up and barely had time to react before Slash was in his space.

“You got a fuckin’ problem, kid?” Slash’s voice was low, dangerous.

The guy blinked, looking confused. “Uh… no?”

“Then why the fuck are you talking to my girl?” Slash took a slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled right in the kid’s face.

“I—I didn’t know she was with someone.”

Slash scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah? You blind or just stupid?”

The kid swallowed, suddenly realizing that the dude in front of him wasn’t just some random jealous boyfriend—he was Slash. The Slash. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but then he thought better of it and muttered a quick, “Sorry, man,” before getting the fuck out of there.

Slash watched him leave, shaking his head with a smirk before turning his attention to you.

“The fuck was that?”

You rolled your eyes. “He was just talking to me, it wasn’t a big deal.”

Slash leaned in, pressing one hand against the bar beside you, caging you in. “Not a big deal?” His voice was lower now, almost amused, but you could hear the edge underneath. “You got some little pretty boy makin’ you laugh, and I’m supposed to sit over there and just… what? Pretend I don’t give a fuck?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t give a fuck.”

Slash let out a dark chuckle. “Yeah? Well, guess I’m full of shit, huh?”

You smirked, reaching for your drink, but he caught your wrist before you could take a sip. His fingers were warm, rough, calloused from years of playing.

“You tryin’ to piss me off, baby?” he murmured, his lips just barely brushing your ear.

Your breath hitched, and you tried to play it cool, but fuck, the way his voice dropped like that…

“No,” you said softly.

Slash smirked, brushing his thumb against your pulse point. “Good. ‘Cause you already fucking did.”

He grabbed your drink and took a slow sip himself, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. Then he set it down, pulling you off the barstool with one firm tug.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re done talkin’ to kids. I got better things to do with you.”

you knew you fucked up.

✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢

“Tell me who this pussy fucking belongs too hmm?” Slash gritted his teeth in your ear, pounding into your abused pussy, feelings your core tightening even more, already having came three times, your body was so over stimulated, shaking from the pleasure.

I felt his hand come down to my cheek, making my body ripple, his hips crashing into mine, feeling myself melt into his touch, screaming in pleasure, my nails going to the sheets, pulling them off the bed.

He groans loudly at your scream, his grip on your hips tightening. He starts to thrust into you roughly, not caring if he's hurting you. His face is buried in your neck, biting and sucking hard marks onto your skin. His movements are fast and brutal, like he's trying to punish you.

“F-fuck you..” I mumbled under my breath, knowing it was a mistake the second it let my bruised lips, he laughs harshly, snapping his hips forward again. "Answer the question, baby. Who pussy does this fucking belong too?" He releases one of your wrists to push a hand between your thighs roughly, finding your spot and rubbing hard to take the edge off your pain. His teeth grit together “just be a good slut and cum for daddy again.”

My moans got louder, feeling my legs clamp together, my chest rising, my eyes shutting, my body couldn’t take any more of this much longer, he snapped, thrusting especially hard into you. He bites down hard on your shoulder, sucking and pulling to leave a deep hickey. He can feel you getting closer, your body tightening around his. "Come on, baby."

“M’gonna cum daddy,” I murmured into the bed, my body getting hotter, my body turning red, my pussy clenching around him, milking him for what he’s worth, taking in all of him, "Fuck - that's it." He shoves his hand harder against your clit, feeling you clamp down around him as you come undone. His thrusts become more erratic and desperate, losing control as he feels you fall apart beneath him. "Fucking take it, baby."

My body convulsed around him, my body squirting while liquid all over the bed, leaving the wet spots bigger than before, grunts leaving slash’s mouth, moans leaving mine, his eyes fly open in shock and arousal. He slams into you a few more times before burying himself deep inside, pulsing and shaking as he comes hard.

His ooze costing me completely, feeling his arousal leaking out of me before feeling his body collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His heart is pounding in his ears, his mind racing with the sudden realization of how much he just fucking loves you. He buries his face in your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Maybe you like punishing me..” I murmured into his neck, my arms wrapping around his torso, he stayed silent for a moment, his breath slowly returning to normal. He finally pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his voice low and gruff. "Maybe I fucking do." He kisses you softly this time, a stark contrast to the rough and aggressive sex you just had.

“Y’know you love it,” I smirked kissing his cheek, placing my forehead against his, my fingers tracing his lower back tattoo, he smiled slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek gently. He knows you're right, but he can't admit it out loud just yet. Instead, he kisses you again, this time with more tenderness and love than he's ever shown before. "Shut up and kiss me, bitch."

He’s back.

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗠𝗧𝗟: 𝗕𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗔𝘁 𝗢𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴)

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

MOST LIKELY

Heeseung — "I’m not stopping until you can’t think straight."

Heeseung lives for the sounds you make when he’s between your thighs. He’s the type to take his time, teasing you until you’re sobbing, overstimulated, begging for more. His stamina is insane, and he won’t stop until you physically pull him away. You’re already trembling, your legs threatening to close around his head, but heeseung just smirks. "What’s wrong, baby?" His voice is muffled against your heat, his tongue never slowing. "You said you could handle me." He pins your hips down, lapping at you relentlessly, and when you cry out, he groans—because he’s not done yet.

Jay — "You taste too good to stop now."

Jay takes so much pride in making you fall apart on his tongue. He’s slow, sensual, methodical—like he’s savoring every second. He makes everything about you feel worshipped, and the way he moans against you? It’s enough to drive you insane. You’re writhing beneath him, your fingers tangled in his hair, but Jay just chuckles against your skin. "Don’t rush me, sweetheart," he murmurs, sliding his tongue over your most sensitive spot. "I want to enjoy my meal." And with the way he’s devouring you? You know he means it.

Sunghoon — "I won’t stop until you’re begging me to."

Sunghoon has something to prove. He wants to see you fall apart because of him, wants to hear you moan his name like it’s the only thing you remember. He’s messy, intense, and completely dedicated to your pleasure. His lips are wet with your arousal, his grip on your thighs firm as he drags his tongue against your entrance. You try to move away, overwhelmed, but he holds you down. "You’re not going anywhere," he growls, pressing soft kisses against your trembling thighs. "Not until I’m satisfied." And the way he looks at you? You know you’re in for a long night.

Jake — "I just love making you feel good, baby."

Jake loves eating you out—it turns him on just as much as it does you. He’s all about making sure you’re comfortable, but once he gets started? He won’t stop until you’re completely spent. His favorite thing? Hearing you whimper for him. You tug at his hair, trying to push him away, but he just hums against you, sending vibrations straight through your core. "One more, baby," he pleads, looking up at you with those puppy-dog eyes. "Just one more, yeah?" And with the way his tongue is working you over? You know damn well it won’t be just one more.

Sunoo — "You’re so cute when you’re falling apart for me."

Sunoo isn’t the most experienced, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. He loves watching your reactions—loves the way your breath hitches when he flicks his tongue just right. If you guide him a little, he’ll ruin you. You gasp as he drags his tongue against you, his fingers digging into your thighs. He looks up, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Does that feel good, baby?" he teases, giving a playful kitten lick. "Tell me how you want it." And when you do? He listens—and doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

Ni-ki — "I bet I can make you fall apart in seconds."

Ni-ki is cocky about it. He might not have the most experience, but he learns fast. He’s competitive, so the second you so much as whimper, he’s smirking—because he knows he’s got you now. You’re gripping the sheets, barely holding on, but Ni-ki just chuckles, tongue flicking exactly where you need it. "See?" he murmurs against your skin. "Told you I’d make you cum faster than anyone else." And the worst part? He’s right.

Jungwon — "Just tell me what you like, baby."

Jungwon is so eager to please. He’s a fast learner, and if you tell him what you like? He’ll get damn good at it. He’s all about making sure you feel good, though—so if you tease him too much, he’ll make you pay for it later. His tongue moves tentatively at first, testing, teasing, learning your reactions. And once he finds what makes your breath hitch? He focuses—driving you higher and higher. "Like that?" he murmurs, his grip tightening on your hips. And when you moan out a desperate yes? He doesn’t stop.

LEAST LIKELY

[xylatox]

Bound By Blood and Vengeance | lhs

The lovely Rae has posted again! The witch hunter x witch pairing intrigues me so bad and it's with Heeseung no less (forever downbad for 1 of my 2 biases). Anyways:) unto my thoughts hehe.

Before I even started I saw mcd and was like, wth is mcd I have to look it up, then my brain brained and I died. I am going to lose it at the death scene.

The midnight sky hangs heavy over the sprawling coven hall, its black-stone spires clawing at the heavens like skeletal fingers. The air inside is thick with incense and whispered spells, a choking blend of power and menace. — God, this wording is absolutely amazing.

You step back into the shadows, your heart a furnace of grief and fury. — this expression is absolutely insane oh my goodness

The set up so far is amazing, the world building, impeccable, I am so invested.

"You were dealing with pure evil, good thing you had been made straight from hell clawing at the cage of your soul to pull him down there with you. — I love with when women seek revenge, it makes me so happy, also thus phrasing is amazing again???? I'm definitely going to be gushing about the phrasing for the entirety of this fic, I'm so sorry in advance.

"Magic is not a matter for you to concern yourself with," he says, his tone firm. "Your focus should be on diplomacy and tradition." — I already dislike the King (more than I did before), the way he says this just angers me, but Hee intro🤭 he's so ahh!!

Also I love dynamic between the two?? the banter?? the tension??

The king’s lips press into a thin line, and he drums his fingers against the armrest. "That girl is a threat. Her bloodline alone makes her dangerous. If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be biding her time, waiting to strike when we least expect it." — the irony, I'm so excited for what is to come.

"No, Your Majesty," Heeseung replies, his gaze briefly flickering to the weapon before returning to the king. "Not yet." The king exhales, his expression hardening. "Good. Let’s hope it stays that way. But if the girl—or any other witch—dares to challenge us, I expect you to use it without hesitation. That blade is our safeguard against their kind. It’s the only thing that can cut through their spells and end them before they wreak havoc." — if this is foreshadowing for what is to come, I am so (not) looking forward to the inevitable.

As he makes his way back through the castle, his thoughts drift to the princess. Her sharp tongue, her probing questions about magic... and the way her eyes seemed to burn with a defiance he couldn’t place. He shakes his head, pushing the thought away. She was a complication he didn’t need right now. The witches were still out there, somewhere, and one of them could be closer than anyone realized. Heeseung tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword, his jaw set. He couldn’t afford to lose focus—not now, not ever. — the irony oh no:((

I didn't expect reader to meet a lady for poison at thr carnival!— "You carry great hatred in your heart, girl." Her tone was not that of judgment but of curiosity, and i bit of understanding. You meet her gaze evenly. "And he carries greater sins." — I love this so much. Also the way Hee just has a hutch that something is off??

Oh. This King is absolutely vile, wow, that's pretty intense.

“Would you really stop a lady who’s in her bleeding from using the bathroom guard?” You had made uncomfortable with your talk of women's duties. — this is so hilarious to me, I would've loved to see Heeseung’s reaction to this statement.

You should be searching for the king’s quarters, not watching the irritating captain of the guard train like some entranced fool. — no but let's be real, imagine the visual.

I will always love the tension between them; the sparing was attractive and I can't put my finger as to why exactly, again maybe it's the tension.

Your fist slams against the case. Nothing. Again, harder. The glass doesn’t even crack. "Open," you whisper, voice raw. "Open, damn you." The magic inside you stirs, a furious storm barely contained. You summon it, let it coil in your palm before slamming your magic against the case. Sparks crackle against the glass, but it remains untouched. Spell-locked. A sob of frustration bubbles up, but you swallow it down. Hot tears slip down your cheeks, your breathing ragged. They mutilated her. Desecrated her. Took her apart and locked away a piece of her like some sick prize. You grip the edges of the case, nails digging into the wood. The weight of loss, of helplessness, crushes down on you, threatens to drag you under. You want to destroy everything in this room, rip apart the shelves, burn this entire wretched castle to the ground. But you don’t have time. Not now. But soon. Your mother’s ring—her body—will not remain here. You will come back. You will tear this place apart if you have to. But first, the king must die. — I feel so empathic towards reader, like my heart breaks for her.

I didn't expect the king to be unharmed???? like I'm so shocked (and invested). For a moment I thought Hee somehow knew it was reader but — Then, slowly, you step closer, tilting your head up at him. "Were you worried, Heeseung?" His throat bobs. His eyes flicker down to your lips—just for a second, barely noticeable—before snapping back up to meet yours. "I'm doing my job," he says, but the words sound hollow even to him. You hum, unconvinced. "Are you?" Silence. — I don't know, thus makes my heart clench.

"I care about you," he repeats, like he’s forcing himself to admit it, to say it out loud. His brows knit together, frustration laced in his voice. "And I hate that I do. But I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you." — I feel sick oh my god. sick,sick,sick.

The kiss omg😭—"You shouldn’t do that," you murmur, your voice breathless. "Do what?" he asks, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Look at me like that." Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, the sound tinged with something like frustration. "Then stop making it so damn hard." — Rae I'm going to insane rn I could scream

“You’ll have to pull out. I cannot become with child Heeseung.” — I died, goodbye.

This King scares me, I always assume now he's going to kill at least 1 person whenever he opens his mouth. Also Hee's gut feeling being right but his refusal to acknowledge it because of how he feels for her?? this is going to end so tragically. Its so sad too, to hear how people talk about reader's mom :((

“I love when a man kneels to me.” You snicker, a laugh falling from your lips in a cascade. “Just a second ago you were pulling away, now look at you.” You were teasing with him, toying around with him. His small smile told you he didn't really seem to mind your teasing, if anything it fueled his desires for you.  — reader is so real for this.

This was bigger than you, bigger than what you felt for Heeseung and you had to continue no matter how much it hurt. — tears in my eyes, genuinely.

“Don’t go.” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, quiet but heavy with meaning. Heeseung freezes. His hand, which had been reaching for the door, stills. The tension in his shoulders tightens as he slowly turns back toward you, his dark eyes searching yours. He looks almost hesitant, like he’s bracing for something. He waits for you to take it back, for you to tell him he misheard. But you don’t do that, instead you stand there looking at him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. And maybe, for tonight, he is. — I am devastated oh my god.

Heeseung tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I know you,” he says. “And I love you.” Your breath shudders.  — Rae I'm fucking sobbing what the hell. THE LAST I LOVE YOU BEFORE HE WALKS OUT AHHH😭😭😭

NO WAY THEY FIND OUT SHE ISNT THE PRINCESS BECAUSE OF THE LETTERS OJ WHAT THE FUCKKKK.

But his heart— His heart belongs to her. And no matter how much he tries to bury it—no matter how much it kills him— It always will. Heeseung feels like he’s standing outside of his own body, watching the scene unfold as if it’s happening to someone else. The king’s voice slices through the thick silence. — I love that eventhough she's a witch, Hee is still very much in love with her and isn't immediately filled with disgust and hatred towards her.

The moment between them noo :((( I'm sick, throwing up, I can't do this.

His voice wavers, but the desperation in his eyes is unwavering. “Please,” he begs again, quieter this time. He might as well be on his hands and knees. — he's so in love with her😭 — “Am I nothing?” The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, slipping silently down your cheeks. “You’re everything to me,” you choke out. —😭😭 I can't do this

It’s the look in Heeseung’s eyes. So devastatingly beautiful. So, broken. You broke him, you are exactly who you’ve always been. A monster. And you were going to die the death you deserved, in the arms of the man you loved but by the hands of the man you loved. — im crying so hard, you would not believe.

He does not say goodbye. Because he knows he will return. Because he knows he will never stop loving her. Because even in death, she is the only truth he has ever known. — oh my god the end. I'm so heartbroken, this was such a beautiful piece Rae. The way you are with words is amazing. I sincerely hope they are happy together in another life :(

BOUND BY BLOOD AND VENGEANCE ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ l.hs

》 In the kingdom of Aethera, the shadows whisper tales of revenge, betrayal, and forbidden magic. A cunning witch with a flair for deception, has spent years honing her craft for one purpose: avenging her parents’ deaths at the hands of the King. Disguised as a visiting princess from a distant realm, She charms her way into the castle, weaving lies and illusions to mask her true intent—murdering the king. Her plan is flawless, or so she believes, until she crosses paths with Heeseung, the brooding captain of the royal guard. Tasked with protecting the "princess," Heeseung finds her insufferable, too sharp-tongued and confident for his liking. But as they’re forced to spend time together, her wit begins to spark something deeper in him, despite his better judgment.

》 𝔢𝔫𝔥𝔶𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢...

pairings » witch hunter!heeseung x witch!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » fantasy » forbidden romance » angst

warnings » smut, oral fem rec, angst, gore, death, murder, dark themes, dark magic, mcd, angst, parental death, 1500s royal ideologies (not entirely accurate), blood, graphic depiction of some death scenes, mainly in reader's pov second person "You" but some scenes in Heeseung's pov, longing, lots of longing.

« 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔞 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔟! »

word count «30.1k »

ONCE UPON A TIME… In a land far far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky, and the water sparkled under the glowing sun. Where mountains rose high and in which long, deep caves ran. Where the sea met shore in a collision of tall waves. Where the undead walked among the living. Where the winged flew above the finned. In a land where things beyond any reason and rhyme existed. And amongst those very beings, within the veils of Aethera, there was… 

Prologue. 

The midnight sky hangs heavy over the sprawling coven hall, its black-stone spires clawing at the heavens like skeletal fingers. The air inside is thick with incense and whispered spells, a choking blend of power and menace. You stand hidden among the crowd of robed witches, your heart hammering as your aunt, Mira, ascends the obsidian dais at the center of the room. Mira moves with the precision of a predator, her sharp features twisted into a mask of triumph. Her voice rings clear, cutting through the murmurs of the assembly like the slash of a blade. "Let it be known," Mira declares, her tone dripping with venom, "that my sister, Esme, was a fool. Her lust for power led her to defy the council—to act alone, recklessly, against the king. And now, she is dead."

The word strikes you like a physical blow. Dead. The room blurs as tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to blink them away. You can still picture your mother’s fiery gaze, her defiant smile. Gone? It doesn’t seem real. Mira’s voice rises, commanding the attention of every soul present. "Esme’s actions have left a stain upon this coven, a mark of disgrace that threatens to unravel all we have worked for. The council must act wisely to ensure our survival. As her successor, I motion that we abandon this foolish vendetta against the royal family. Let the king and his ilk live." A wave of murmurs ripples through the hall. Your fists clench at your sides as you listen to the witches’ agreement. Your aunt, the woman who had coldly informed you of your parents’ deaths only hours before, now calls your mother power-hungry and selfish. 

"My sister sought glory and brought ruin upon herself," Mira continues, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Let her fate serve as a warning to those who would seek to defy this council." The crowd erupts in murmured assent, some nodding gravely, others casting wary glances at one another. You shrink further into the shadows, your nails digging into your palms until crescent moons of pain etch into your skin. Your mother wasn’t power-hungry. She wasn’t selfish. She had been brave, determined to rid the world of the tyrant king who had oppressed your kind for decades. How dare Mira speak ill upon her only hours after her death. The council’s seal burns bright upon Mira’s palm as she raises her hand, swearing her oath to uphold the coven’s decisions. The crowd roars its approval, but your ears ring with the sound of your own heartbeat. You watch your aunt with burning eyes, feeling the injustice of it all sear into your very soul. 

They are cowards, every last one of them. But not you. You won’t let your mother’s death be in vain. You step back into the shadows, your heart a furnace of grief and fury. One day, you vow, you will finish what your mother started. You will avenge your parents and bring the king to his knees—even if it means standing against the coven itself. As the council hall fills with chants and the rustle of robes, you slip away, unseen. Your path is set, your purpose clear. The king’s days are numbered, and you will stop at nothing to see justice served. 

The cold night air bites at your cheeks as you sneak through the hidden tunnels beneath the coven hall. Every step echoes in the silence, but you’re too determined to let fear stop you now. The moonlight above guides your way as you slip out into the open, the dark forest swallowing you whole. You’ve heard whispers in the coven—rumors of a royal procession. The king is welcoming a princess from a neighboring kingdom to learn the traditions and history of Athera. The thought is your first glimmer of a plan. If you can reach the castle, you can get close to the king. And if you can get close to the king, you can kill him.

The journey to the village square is long, but you’re light on your feet, moving through the shadows like a wraith. When you arrive, your pulse quickens at the sight of the royal carriage docked outside the saloon. Its intricate gold detailing gleams in the torchlight, and the sound of boisterous laughter drifts from inside as the guards enjoy their meal and drinks. You approach cautiously, your heart pounding. The guards are distracted, but you can’t afford any mistakes. Muttering a quiet incantation under your breath, you weave a charm spell, your words wrapping around the nearest guard like a silken thread. His expression slackens, and he gestures for you to pass, oblivious to the danger. What a punk. So easily taken down, is the king so stupid as to not have his guards under protection that wavers spells. Amateur. You scoffed at your hatred for him. 

The carriage door creaks softly as you open it. Inside, the princess sits on a plush seat, her gown shimmering like moonlight. Her eyes widen in alarm when she sees you. Her blonde hair bright under the minimal light seeping through the closed curtains of the carriage. Her chest heaved at the sight of you, clearly frightened. Just how you liked it. A scared little privileged girl who had not even the slightest idea of how cruel the real world is. Growing up with a king for a father and a queen for a mother, spoon fed with a gilded spoon. You tsked at the thought. It made your next move all that easier to accomplish. "Who are you?" she demands, her voice trembling. "Guards!"

Before she can scream again, you lunge forward, your dagger flashing in the dim light. Sinking the knife into the side of her chest without so much as another protest. The struggle is brief, her cries fading into silence. You catch your breath, staring at her lifeless form. There’s no time for hesitation. Stripping her gown, you exchange your rough clothes for her regal attire, pulling the hood of her cloak low over your face. With practiced efficiency, you shove her body to the far side of the carriage. You’ll deal with it soon enough. Moments later, the guards return, oblivious to the change. The carriage lurches forward, and you wait until the village lights are distant before opening the door and pushing her lifeless form out into the night. You had no regrets. None. This is what needs to be done, for your parents. The world is now rid of one less pretty princess who had lived and loved ten times more than you ever had. You fought a smirk from gracing your lips, pure evil instincts kicking in. 

The muffled thud of her body hitting the ground is followed by distant shouts of alarm. You don’t look back. The screams of the villagers grow fainter as the carriage speeds toward the castle, carrying you closer to your destiny. You sit back against the cushioned seat, your fingers tightening around the dagger hidden beneath your cloak. Soon, the king will pay for everything. For taking your parents far too early. For being an arrogant, no good tyrant. You couldn't wait to spill his blood. You were actually giddy. The towering gates of the castle loom before you, their iron bars glinting in the moonlight. The carriage comes to a halt, and the driver announces your arrival with a booming voice. You steady your breathing, keeping your head bowed as the door opens. A pair of guards escort you inside, their armored boots clanking against the stone floor. The grand hall is a marvel of opulence. Chandeliers dripping with crystals cast a warm glow over gilded walls and intricate tapestries. Your eyes catch every detail, memorizing the layout as your heart pounds beneath the layers of the princess’s gown.

The king and queen stand at the far end of the hall, their regal presence commanding the room. The king’s sharp eyes study you as you approach, his mouth curling into a welcoming smile. The queen’s gaze is softer, but no less piercing. They are everything you expected—and everything you loathe. Tall, graceful. As hard as stone. Your heart leaped in your chest but you would not allow the disease of anxiety to plague you. You were stronger than that. "Welcome to Athera," the king says, his voice rich and commanding. "We are honored to have you here." You forced a snarl down at his voice alone. 

So instead you curtsy deeply, keeping your expression demure. "Thank you, Your Majesties. It is an honor to be here." 

"You must be tired from your journey," the queen says, her voice as smooth as silk. "We have arranged for a nursemaid to attend to you. She will show you to your chambers and ensure you have everything you need." 

"You are most kind," you reply, forcing a polite smile. Your hands are steady, but the weight of the dagger hidden beneath your cloak reminds you of your true purpose. The king steps closer, his imposing frame towering over you. "We look forward to hearing about your homeland and sharing our traditions with you. Tonight, you will dine with us. It will be a chance to begin your education in the ways of Athera." 

"I would be delighted," you say, inclining your head. The thought of sitting across from him at the dinner table, so close yet unable to strike, makes your blood boil. But patience is a weapon, one you are learning to wield. Even if your hatred for him is at an all time high you must remind yourself of the ultimate goal here. Not only do you want to kill the king, you also wish to make him suffer, in the most unimaginable ways. You had never known how your parents died, or what the nature of it was but based on the horrifying stories told about the king's prisoners you could only assume the worst. You were dealing with pure evil, good thing you had been made straight from hell clawing at the cage of your soul to pull him down there with you. A maid appears at your side, bowing low before gesturing for you to follow. You allow her to lead you through the labyrinthine halls of the castle, your mind racing with possibilities. Each step brings you closer to the moment you’ve dreamed of: the moment the king pays for his crimes. For now, you must play the part of the princess, but soon, the mask will come off—and the real game will begin.

The maid leads you to your chambers, a room so grand it feels like stepping into a dream—or a trap. The ceiling arches high above, painted with scenes of celestial beauty, and the furnishings are fit for a queen: a massive canopy bed draped in silk, a polished mahogany desk, and a window seat overlooking the sprawling castle gardens. You fight to keep your expression neutral, though the opulence threatens to overwhelm you. "This will be your room during your stay," the maid says with a bow. "A bath has been prepared for you. Shall I assist you, or would you prefer privacy?" You had never had someone to dote on you, even when your mother was alive. You sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. 

You give her a small, dismissive wave. "I can manage for now. Thank you." She nods, retreating with a final bow. Once alone, you let out a breath, shedding the heavy cloak and feeling the weight of your dagger hidden in the folds of your stolen gown. The luxurious bath beckons, but you remain cautious, examining the room for anything amiss. When you’re satisfied that no prying eyes or hidden spells lurk, you strip off the dress and slip into the steaming water. The warmth eases the tension in your muscles, but your mind remains sharp, replaying every moment since you entered the castle. The king’s piercing gaze. The queen’s soft, calculated smile. They seemed so at ease, so secure in their kingdom, but that security would be their downfall. When the water begins to cool, you step out and wrap yourself in a robe. A knock sounds at the door before the maid returns, this time with a tray of delicate bottles and brushes. You're especially jumpy. Learning to be extra cautious. You were in enemy territory completely undetected. 

"I’ve come to prepare you for dinner," she says, setting the items down. She moves with practiced efficiency, brushing and arranging your hair into an elaborate style that feels foreign on your head. Her hands are gentle, but the intrusion feels invasive, a reminder that every moment here is a performance. You could never be fully comfortable, fully relaxed. Not under the watchful eyes of the royals and all who serve them. "Do you like it?" she asks when she’s finished, holding up a gilded mirror. 

You glance at the reflection of a girl you barely recognize—poised, elegant, nothing like the witch who crouched in the shadows of the coven. "It will do," you say curtly, standing to allow her to help you into another dress. This one is finer than the last, adorned with jewels and embroidery that shimmer in the candlelight. 

When you’re finally ready, she steps back with a small smile. "You look lovely, Your Grace. The king and queen will be most pleased." You nod, hiding the dark satisfaction that simmers beneath your calm exterior. Let them be pleased. Let them believe I am harmless. A pair of guards and the nursemaid walk you to the dinning hall where your dinner will take place. The dining hall is a spectacle of wealth and grandeur. A long table stretches the length of the room, laden with golden plates and crystal goblets. Servants move like shadows, ensuring every detail is perfect. The king and queen rise as you enter, their smiles warm and inviting. "Ah, our honored guest," the king says, motioning for you to sit beside him. You glide to the seat, each step measured and deliberate.

"Thank you for this generous welcome," you say, your voice soft but steady. The king studies you as you begin to eat. His questions come slowly at first—polite inquiries about your homeland and upbringing. You answer carefully, spinning a web of half-truths and vague pleasantries.

"And what do you hope to learn during your time in Athera?" he asks, cutting into a piece of roasted meat.

You pause, as though considering your words. "Your Majesty, I wish to understand the traditions and history that make this land so revered. To gain the wisdom that only a kingdom as ancient as yours can provide." The queen smiles at this, but the king narrows his eyes slightly, as if testing the sincerity of your response. Before he can press further, he gestures to a man standing near the far wall. 

"This is Captain Lee Heeseung," the king says. "He is my most trusted guard and will oversee your safety during your stay." Heeseung steps forward, bowing slightly with an air of quiet authority. His dark eyes meet yours, and you sense he’s already assessing you, searching for weaknesses. 

"An honor to serve, Your Grace," he says. His voice is steady, but there’s a spark of curiosity in his tone. You incline your head, feigning disinterest. "The honor is mine, Captain." The king seems satisfied with the exchange and continues speaking. But when you inquire about magic in the kingdom, his expression hardens. You ask of magical beings he has here, perhaps prying too far but you did not care much. Being here meant making sacrifices. 

"Magic is not a matter for you to concern yourself with," he says, his tone firm. "Your focus should be on diplomacy and tradition." 

Your lips tighten, but you force a smile. "Of course, Your Majesty. Forgive my curiosity." You bit back every harsh wish you could utter at him, biting your tongue almost to the point of bleeding. The conversation drifts to other topics, but your mind lingers on his dismissal. Magic is none of your concern. The words echo in your thoughts like a challenge, feeding the embers of your anger. You’ll prove him wrong. You’ll prove them all wrong. Magic was your entire being. It coursed through your veins at this very second. Born and bred a witch, the king didn't know the true first thing about what Magic truly was. Not unless the asshole possessed it himself, which he didn't. As far as you heard he did his bidding in the creatures he held captive in this very castle. He was a coward. 

The evening wears on, and when the meal concludes, the king rises to offer a toast. His words are full of pride and hope for the future, but you hear only arrogance. You lift your goblet, hiding your true thoughts behind a mask of gratitude. One day, this kingdom will bow to you. One day everyone will know of the Bloodborn witch who outsmarted and conquered the tyrant king. For now, you bide your time. Tonight, you’ve taken your first step into the heart of Athera. Soon, the real work will begin. 

After dinner you're more than eager to get out of the confines of your room, you were just itching to scope out the castle and what it entailed. There was just one tiny problem. Your guard dog Heeseung was permitted to walk with you every step you took. The moon hangs high over the castle as you step out onto the garden path, the crisp night air brushing against your skin. The opulent gardens are a labyrinth of perfectly trimmed hedges, vibrant blooms, and marble fountains that glimmer under the silvery light. It should be peaceful, the perfect setting for you to gather your thoughts and refine your plan, but the sound of boots following closely behind shatters the illusion. "Is this truly necessary?" you ask, throwing a glance over your shoulder at Heeseung, who trails a few paces behind. 

"The king insisted," he replies, his tone clipped. He doesn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his expression as his dark eyes meet yours. "I don’t particularly enjoy babysitting, either." 

You huff, turning away from him and focusing on the path ahead. "I hardly need a babysitter."

"Then why am I here?" Heeseung mutters under his breath. You fought the urge to crack him over the head with a tight closed fist. You didn't need a low life guard treating you like some weak girl who couldn't hold her own head up. Fuck that. 

You shoot him a sharp look. One laced with venom, and ash laden tongue. "Because the king is clearly overprotective." 

"And because you're a guest," he counters, his voice edged with sarcasm. "Guests don’t wander around royal gardens unescorted, no matter how stubborn they are." 

You stop abruptly, forcing him to do the same. "Stubborn?" You crossed your arms over your chest, your nails digging into the skin of your arm to stop yourself from lashing out on him and doing something irreversible. Heeseung folds his arms across his chest, just like you had.  "That’s one way to describe it. Most princesses would relish the chance to stroll under the stars with the captain of the guard. You seem more annoyed than honored."

"Honored?" You scoff, your eyes narrowing. "To be followed around like a child who can’t be trusted to think for herself? If that’s what you call honor, I’d rather not have it." Heeseung’s brow arches, and for a moment, his irritation gives way to curiosity. "You’re not like other princesses, are you?" 

"Perhaps that’s because I’m not as complacent as they are," you snap, taking another step forward. "I’ve seen enough of this world to know that women are treated like ornaments—delicate, fragile things meant to be admired and controlled. It’s infuriating." His gaze sharpens, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Strong words for someone dressed like a jeweled ornament herself." You let a low hiss leave your lips at your growing frustration. 

Your hands clench at your sides, but you hold your ground. "This gown doesn’t define me. And neither does your opinion." Heeseung chuckles dryly, though there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—respect, perhaps, or maybe amusement. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But spirit doesn’t mean much in a place like this." He was giving you some kind of rundown you hadn't asked for, treating you like an idiot. 

"And why is that?" you ask, your voice icy. Your body cold from the fury swirling in your veins. "Because this kingdom isn’t built on ideals. It’s built on power, control, and tradition." He steps closer, his tone dropping to something quieter but no less intense. "If you want to survive here, you’d better learn to play by the rules." 

"I make my own rules," you reply, lifting your chin defiantly. You’d be cursing yourself for your behavior later, but now you couldn't help but let the spit fire fall from your lips. The tension between you crackles like lightning in the air, but neither of you looks away. Finally, Heeseung sighs and takes a step back, his expression hardening again. "You’re going to make my job difficult, aren’t you?" he says, shaking his head. 

“Yes.” was all you responded with. And you'd give no other explanation to it. Heeseung probably wondered what kind of trivial trouble he faced ahead but he surely didn't know it was much more dangerous than that. This wasn't just some head strong princess fighting to stay somewhat afloat in a world akin to men. You were a bloodthirsty, wishfully avenging witch who would stop at nothing to see her enemy, the King, dead. He had not even an inclination of a clue. The silence stretches between you as you continue your walk, the garden’s beauty muted by the clash of wills. Heeseung doesn’t speak again, and you’re grateful for the reprieve. Every step solidifies your resolve, every glance at the castle walls a reminder of the kingdom you’ve infiltrated. Heeseung might think he understands power and control, but he knows nothing of the storm brewing inside you. Let him underestimate you. Let them all underestimate you. Soon, they’ll realize the true extent of your will—and the price of underestimating it. When you finally return to your chambers, you glance back at Heeseung, who remains at the door, his expression unreadable.

"Goodnight, Captain," you say, your voice laced with the faintest hint of sarcasm. But also a bit of amusement. 

"Goodnight, Your Grace," he replies, his tone matching yours. As the door closes behind you, you can’t help but feel the night has been a small victory. You’ve made your first impression on the castle—and its people. And though Heeseung may prove to be an obstacle, he’s also a challenge, one you’re determined to overcome. For now, you let your thoughts settle as you prepare for the days to come. The game has begun, and you’re ready to play it to win. The heavy oak door closes with a quiet thud behind you, sealing off the noise of the castle. Your chambers are grander than anything you’ve ever known—rich velvet drapes, a bed large enough to drown in, and shelves lined with books whose gilded spines catch the flickering light of the fire. But none of it feels real. The luxury, the warmth, the illusion of safety—it’s all a lie. 

You slip out of the heavy gown, casting it aside as if shedding a skin that doesn’t belong to you. Your reflection in the ornate mirror catches your eye, and for a moment, you stare. The princess’s face looks back at you, her delicate features framed by your freshly styled hair, but the defiance burning in your gaze is all your own. You turn away, pulling a well-worn leather satchel from beneath the bed. Its contents are simple but vital: a few personal belongings, a small book of spells, and a dagger you’d hidden before anyone could search your things. The weight of the dagger is comforting as you place it on the bedside table, a silent reminder of your mission. The fire crackles softly as you settle onto the plush rug by the hearth, spreading a stack of books in front of you. You’ve managed to gather a modest collection about the castle, the royal family, and the kingdom’s history—enough to keep your mind occupied, or so you thought. 

Your fingers trace the faded ink of an old map of Athera, your lips silently forming the names of its towns and landmarks. But no matter how hard you try to focus, your thoughts keep drifting back to him. Heeseung. The way he’d looked at you in the garden, his dark eyes sharp and unreadable, as if he could see through your every facade. The way he’d dismissed you as stubborn and spoiled, as if you were no different from the pampered nobles he’d sworn to protect. The way his words had challenged you, igniting a spark of defiance you couldn’t shake. You scowl, slamming the book shut with more force than necessary. "Infuriating," you mutter under your breath, as if saying it aloud will exorcise the thought of him from your mind. It doesn’t. Instead, you grab your spellbook, flipping through its pages with restless energy. The familiar symbols and incantations should be a comfort, but even your magic feels dull tonight. You murmur a spell to conjure a small orb of light, watching it hover in the air like a firefly, but the satisfaction is fleeting. The orb winks out, leaving you in the dim glow of the fire. 

Why does he bother you so much? He’s just another guard, another obstacle in a castle full of them. And yet, his words linger, needling at the edges of your thoughts. You hate the way he made you feel—challenged, unsettled, seen. Shaking your head, you push the thought aside and return to the books. The king is what matters, not some arrogant captain of the guard. You remind yourself of the plan, of the vengeance that fuels you. You’ll learn everything you can about this castle, this kingdom, and the man who sits on its throne. Heeseung is nothing but a distraction, and distractions have no place in your mission. Still, as the fire dwindles to embers and the castle settles into silence, his voice echoes in your mind: “You’ve got spirit.” 

You grit your teeth, shoving the memory aside as you extinguish the lamp. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, and you can’t afford to let him—or anyone else—get in your way. As you lay down, the shadows of the room seem to whisper promises of the chaos you’ll bring to Athera. And yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, a quiet, infuriating thought remains: Heeseung may not be as easy to forget as you’d hoped. 

-

The next morning arrives with the soft knock of your nursemaid, her presence dragging you from a restless sleep. The golden sunlight streaming through the tall windows feels almost mocking, a stark contrast to the cold determination that weighs heavy in your chest. You dress quickly, donning yet another gown far too frilly for your taste, and endure the nursemaid’s fussing over your hair with forced patience. By the time you arrive at the study hall, you’re already in a foul mood. The room is grand, with floor-to-ceiling windows draped in fine silks and shelves brimming with ancient tomes. At the far end of the room, a frail man in scholar’s robes stands by a chalkboard, his spectacles perched precariously on the tip of his nose. His presence is as unimposing as the droning voice that greets you. "Ah, Princess," he says, bowing stiffly. "We shall begin with a comprehensive overview of Athera’s founding and its noble lineage." 

You sigh inwardly, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. As you take your seat at the front of the class, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye—Heeseung, leaning against the wall near the door. His arms are crossed over his chest, his expression a mixture of boredom and irritation. He’s clearly as thrilled about this arrangement as you are. The scholar drones on, his voice a monotonous hum as he recites the kingdom’s history. Something about treaties, alliances, and a war long past. You try to focus, but the words blur together, slipping through your grasp like sand. Your gaze drifts to the window, where the gardens stretch out in the morning light. The vibrant colors of the flowers and the rustling of the leaves call to you, a welcome escape from the suffocating walls of the study. He talks of magical beings. Dragons, werewolves, creatures in the sea, creatures in the sky. "Princess, are you paying attention?" the teacher’s voice snaps you back to the present. His stern gaze pins you in place, and you force a polite smile. 

"Of course," you lie, straightening in your chair. But your mind is already elsewhere again, plotting and scheming. How could anyone care about the history of treaties when the present holds so much more promise for chaos? In the corner, Heeseung shifts, his boots scraping lightly against the stone floor. His gaze meets yours for a fleeting moment, and you catch the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Is he laughing at you? You bristle, sitting up straighter. 

The teacher drones on, oblivious to the silent exchange. "And so, The King’s unification of the eastern territories laid the foundation for the peace we enjoy today..."  You stifle a yawn, your gaze flicking back to Heeseung. He looks as disinterested as you feel, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he leans against the wall. 

"Do you find this as thrilling as I do, Captain?" you mutter under your breath, barely audible. 

His eyes narrow slightly, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward. "Riveting," he murmurs back, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Though I imagine it’s more tolerable when you’re not staring out the window." Your cheeks heat, and you turn your attention back to the teacher, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a retort. The exchange leaves you flustered, though you can’t quite decide if it’s from embarrassment or irritation. The lesson drags on, and by the time the scholar finally sets down his chalk, you’re convinced an entire day has passed. "We’ll continue tomorrow with the origins of the royal family’s insignia," he announces, as if that’s something to look forward to. 

You stand quickly, smoothing your skirts as you prepare to leave. Heeseung falls into step behind you, his presence a constant shadow. As you walk through the corridors, the silence stretches until you can’t bear it any longer. "You seemed awfully comfortable back there," you say, your tone sharp. "Do you always hover like a ghost, or is it just for me?" 

Heeseung glances at you, his expression unreadable. "It’s my job to keep you safe. I don’t have to enjoy it." 

"Safe from what?" you scoff. "The dust on those books? The unbearable monotony of castle life?" 

He stops abruptly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "Safe from whatever danger your enemies might bring. Or," he adds, his voice low, "whatever danger you might bring yourself." The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, you’re at a loss. Then your lips curl into a smirk. "I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Captain." You continue down the hall. Heeseung may be a nuisance, but he’s also observant—and that makes him dangerous. You’ll need to keep your guard up around him, even if he’s nothing more than an obstacle in your greater plan. The day isn’t over yet, and you still have work to do. 

After the lesson, you wander down the grand corridors of the castle, the heavy weight of boredom pressing against your chest. The day has been insufferable—yet another dull recounting of history delivered in a monotonous drone, the same names and dates hammered into your skull until they blurred together. You’re not sure if it’s exhaustion or frustration that drives your next decision, but the thought of retreating to your chambers feels unbearable. "I want to go to the library," you declare suddenly, glancing back at Heeseung, who’s trailing behind you with the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own execution. 

He raises a brow, not even trying to mask his irritation. "The library? What for? Didn’t you just spend hours listening to all that history nonsense?" 

"I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?" you reply sharply, spinning back toward the hallway ahead. "Some of us like to expand our knowledge." There was a lot you needed to learn about the king and more specifically this castle if you were going to properly find a way to kill him. "You mean some of us like to make other people’s lives harder," he mutters, loud enough for you to hear. 

You stop abruptly, turning to face him with an arched brow. "Oh, I’m sorry. Is being my guard not entertaining enough for you? Should I organize a parade in your honor?" Heeseung rolls his eyes, falling into step beside you instead of keeping his distance. "Entertaining is the last word I’d use to describe this job. Babysitting a princess who doesn’t act like one isn’t exactly the highlight of my career." 

"Good," you say with a saccharine smile. "Because I’m not a complacent little princess who needs constant coddling." You held your hide with triumph. Heeseung was just another man who had thought you weak, he was in for a rude awakening that was for certain. "That’s obvious," he mutters, but you catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. When you reach the library, the grandeur of the space strikes you all over again. Towering bookshelves stretch to the ceiling, their dark wood polished to perfection, and the scent of parchment and old ink fills the air. It’s quiet, serene, and exactly what you need after the grating monotony of the lesson. 

"Stay there," you order, gesturing vaguely to a corner. "You’ll ruin the atmosphere if you breathe too loudly." 

"Believe me," he says, leaning casually against a pillar, "I have no desire to ruin whatever grand intellectual pursuits you’re pretending to have." Ignoring him, you approach the nearest shelf, your fingers grazing the spines of the books as you scan the titles. But after a moment, your curiosity gets the better of you. "Speaking of pursuits," you say, casting a glance over your shoulder, "why is it that no one here seems to talk about magic?" 

Heeseung’s posture stiffens slightly, the smirk fading from his face. "Why do you care?" It was an odd reaction, one you were watching closely. Why did everyone seem to tense up when magic is talked about? Isn't Aethera filled with endless amounts of magic and creatures unhuman. This was not something that was taboo, it should be normal. "Because it’s fascinating," you say, turning to face him fully. "Magic is power, creation, mystery... Why wouldn’t I care?" You knew everything about magic, how much of magic did Heeseung really understand? It was obvious he did not possess any magical abilities and unless he could shapeshift into a man it didn't seem he was a magical being at that. 

"It’s dangerous," he replies curtly. "That’s why." The answer was short and it annoyed you. Who was he to tell you? You had to remind yourself that he didn't know who and what you really were. "Everything is dangerous," you counter. "Swords, fire, ambition. That doesn’t mean we ignore it. I’d think someone like you would understand that." 

"Someone like me?" he echoes, his eyes narrowing. "You’re a soldier, aren’t you? A protector. Surely you see the value in power," you press, taking a step closer. "Unless, of course, you’re afraid of it." 

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he crosses his arms, his tone clipped. "Magic has its place. But you seem a little too interested in it." 

"Why shouldn’t I be? Don’t you ever wonder about it?" you ask, watching him carefully. "Or are you just another guard who sees the world in black and white?" He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches between you. Finally, he sighs, his gaze hardening. "I don’t have magic, if that’s what you’re asking." 

The admission doesn't surprise you, causing a laugh to bubble up inside of you "None at all? That’s... unfortunate." The corners of his mouth twitch downward, and his eyes darken. "What’s that supposed to mean?" You decided to tease him, to rile him up a bit. 

"It means," you say with a shrug, "I would’ve thought someone with your... demeanor might have at least a little magic. Even the tiniest spark." 

"Not everyone needs magic to survive," he says sharply, his voice lowering. "Some of us rely on skill and discipline. But I guess you wouldn’t understand that." 

"Skill and discipline?" you echo, unable to resist pushing further. "Is that what you tell yourself while others wield power you can’t touch?" As far as he knew, you didn't possess a magical ability but still teasing him was the highlight of this dreadful day. His glare is sharp enough to cut, and he takes a step forward, closing the distance between you. "I don’t need magic to be stronger than most people you’ll ever meet. And I don’t need it to see through people like you." 

"People like me?" you ask, tilting your head. You were appalled at his blatant candor. It was almost insulting. "You hide behind clever words and fake smiles, pretending you’re better than everyone else," he says, his tone as biting as his stare. "But you’re just as flawed as the rest of us—if not more." 

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, you falter. But then you square your shoulders, lifting your chin. "At least I’m not afraid to reach for power when I see it. Unlike you." Heeseung exhales sharply, his frustration visible in the tight set of his jaw. "You think you know everything, don’t you? But let me tell you something, Princess—power without control is just chaos waiting to happen." 

"And control without power is just cowardice," you shoot back. Your blood boiling, heat soaring through your veins, heating your cheeks. The air between you crackles with tension, neither of you willing to back down. Finally, Heeseung turns away, his voice quieter but no less firm. "You don’t know what you’re talking about." 

"Maybe I don’t," you say, retreating to the shelf you were examining. "But I know enough to see that you’re scared of something you can’t admit." He doesn’t respond, and when you glance over your shoulder, you catch the faintest flicker of something in his expression—resentment, maybe, or something deeper. It vanishes just as quickly, replaced by his usual stoic mask. You pull a heavy tome from the shelf, the weight of it grounding you as you carry it to a nearby table. As you settle into the chair and open the book, you steal another glance at Heeseung. He’s still by the pillar, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the room. For once, the thought of irritating him doesn’t bring you any satisfaction. Instead, his words linger in your mind, echoing louder than the scratch of your pen against the paper as you take notes. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You’re here for a purpose, and nothing—not even an infuriating guard—will distract you from it. 

-

The sound of boots against marble echoes faintly as Heeseung strides through the castle halls toward the king’s private chamber. He moves with purpose, his posture straight and disciplined, but his mind is far from focused. The conversation with the princess in the library still lingers, her biting words replaying in his head like a song he can’t escape. "Power without control is just chaos," he mutters under his breath, as if reaffirming the truth to himself. He shakes his head, forcing the distraction aside. There are more pressing matters to deal with. 

The guards stationed outside the chamber bow their heads as he approaches, stepping aside to allow him entry. Heeseung pushes open the heavy wooden door, the warmth of the king’s study enveloping him. The room is richly appointed, filled with books, maps, and the faint scent of parchment. The king sits behind a wide desk, his imposing frame leaning over a document, but he looks up as Heeseung enters. “Heeseung.” the king greets, gesturing for him to approach. "What news do you bring?" Heeseung crosses the room, bowing slightly before standing at attention. "Your Majesty, the witches have remained quiet for now. The council is still fractured after what happened with Esme. Most of them are cautious, unwilling to draw attention." 

​​The king leans back in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing. "And the daughter?" Heeseung hesitates for a fraction of a second, his expression tightening. "She went missing not too long ago. No one knows where she is or what she looks like. The coven has done an exceptional job of erasing her trail. We’ve searched the surrounding areas, sent informants to neighboring regions, but nothing has turned up." 

The king’s lips press into a thin line, and he drums his fingers against the armrest. "That girl is a threat. Her bloodline alone makes her dangerous. If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be biding her time, waiting to strike when we least expect it." 

"I understand, Your Majesty," Heeseung says, his voice steady. "I’ve increased surveillance on the coven. If they make a move, we’ll know about it immediately." The king rises from his chair, pacing slowly across the room. His hands clasp behind his back, his expression thoughtful. "Good. But I want you to remain vigilant, Heeseung. The witches are not as divided as they may seem. Their hatred for this crown runs deep, and I will not let another insurgent rise under my watch." 

Heeseung nods, his fingers twitching slightly at his side. "Understood, Your Majesty. I’ll continue monitoring them closely." The king stops in front of a display case, its glass gleaming under the warm light of the room. Inside rests a single weapon—a dagger with an obsidian blade that seems to absorb the light around it. The hilt is engraved with ancient runes, and the very air near it feels charged with power. "You haven’t had to use it yet, have you?" the king asks, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity as he nods toward the blade. 

"No, Your Majesty," Heeseung replies, his gaze briefly flickering to the weapon before returning to the king. "Not yet." The king exhales, his expression hardening. "Good. Let’s hope it stays that way. But if the girl—or any other witch—dares to challenge us, I expect you to use it without hesitation. That blade is our safeguard against their kind. It’s the only thing that can cut through their spells and end them before they wreak havoc." 

Heeseung’s hand unconsciously brushes against the hilt of his sword, though he feels the weight of the king’s words more than his weapon. "You have my word, Your Majesty. I won’t let them get close." 

"See that you don’t," the king says, turning to face him fully. His gaze is sharp, his tone commanding. "The witches are not to be underestimated, Heeseung. Their magic is insidious, and they’ve infiltrated kingdoms before. We don’t even know how many of them might be near us, hiding in plain sight. Keep your eyes open—and your blade ready." 

Heeseung inclines his head. "Of course, Your Majesty." The king studies him for a moment longer before nodding in dismissal. "Go. Report back to me if there’s any sign of activity from the coven." Heeseung bows deeply before turning on his heel and exiting the chamber. The weight of the conversation settles over him like a shroud, the king’s words ringing in his ears. As he makes his way back through the castle, his thoughts drift to the princess. Her sharp tongue, her probing questions about magic... and the way her eyes seemed to burn with a defiance he couldn’t place. He shakes his head, pushing the thought away. She was a complication he didn’t need right now. The witches were still out there, somewhere, and one of them could be closer than anyone realized. Heeseung tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword, his jaw set. He couldn’t afford to lose focus—not now, not ever. 

-

The morning sun spills golden light across the castle grounds as you stand by the grand entrance, waiting for your reluctant escort. The crisp air carries the distant hum of the city waking beyond the castle walls—the sound of merchants setting up stalls, the laughter of children, the scent of fresh bread drifting from the bakeries. You can almost taste the freedom of the outside world. Almost. But, of course, you aren’t truly free. A sigh escapes your lips as you hear the familiar sound of armored boots approaching. Heeseung stops beside you, arms crossed, looking as thrilled about this excursion as he has about every other time he’s been assigned to you. His expression is one of pure exasperation, like he’d rather be facing a horde of assassins than babysitting a foreign princess in the city streets. "Let’s get this over with," he mutters, adjusting the sword strapped to his hip. "Where exactly do you need to go?" 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. "I heard there’s a traveling carnival near the market today. I’d like to see it." His brow furrows. "A carnival?" He looks you up and down, as if trying to decide whether or not you’re serious. "You mean to tell me you want to waste time with games and fortune tellers?" 

"You say ‘waste time,’ I say ‘cultural experience,’" you counter, offering a saccharine smile. "It would be a shame to visit Athera and not witness such a grand attraction." Heeseung sighs through his nose, clearly debating whether or not to argue. "Fine," he grumbles after a long pause. "But don’t wander off." You hum in agreement, already planning exactly how you’ll do just that. The carnival is a whirlwind of color and sound. Performers juggle flaming torches, musicians play lively tunes, and vendors shout over the crowd, boasting their wares. Children run past, their hands sticky with honeyed treats, and silk-clad fortune tellers beckon visitors into their tents. It’s an assault on the senses—but more importantly, it’s a perfect place to disappear. 

"Stay close," Heeseung warns, scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. You pretend to admire a display of glass trinkets, then gasp as if something catches your eye in the distance. "Oh! A mirror maze!" You turn to him, feigning excitement. "Let’s go in!" 

Heeseung groans. "You’ve got to be kidding me." 

"Oh, come now," you say, grabbing his wrist before he can protest. "Surely a fearless captain of the guard isn’t afraid of a few reflections?" His jaw tightens. "I’m not afraid of anything." 

"Then prove it," you challenge, pulling him toward the entrance. His grumble is lost beneath the laughter of passing carnival-goers as you drag him inside. The moment you step into the maze, you’re surrounded by endless versions of yourself, your reflections stretching infinitely in every direction. The air is thick with the scent of candle wax and aged wood, and the flickering lanterns overhead cast eerie shadows along the mirrored paths. You take a slow step forward, the sound of your boots muffled against the carpeted floor. The maze is designed to disorient, to make one question what’s real and what’s merely a reflection. Even the flicker of candlelight bends strangely, making it hard to tell if the passage ahead is truly open or just another illusion. 

Heeseung exhales sharply behind you. "This is ridiculous," he mutters, glancing around warily. His reflection appears hundreds of times over, each version of him scowling in frustration. You can’t help but smirk. "What’s the matter, Captain? Losing your sense of direction?" 

He glares at you through the glass. "No. But I know a trap when I see one." You press a hand against one of the mirrors, watching as the pressure sends a ripple through the illusion. "And yet, you walked right in with me," you tease, stepping forward with confidence. "That means either you trust me or you’re a fool." Heeseung doesn’t reply, but his silence is answer enough. The two of you move deeper into the labyrinth, the paths twisting in unpredictable patterns. At one point, you think you see the exit, only to step forward and bump into cold glass. Another time, Heeseung’s reflection appears beside you, making you jolt—only to realize he’s actually several feet away. The maze is playing tricks, forcing both of you to second-guess every turn. 

But unlike Heeseung, you know exactly what you’re doing. You let your fingers graze the mirrors as you walk, feeling for subtle shifts in temperature and texture. It’s a trick your mother taught you long ago—how to sense when an illusion is stronger, when the air bends just slightly differently. Your way out is clear. You just need to make sure Heeseung doesn’t follow. "Stay close," he orders, his voice firm. You smile to yourself. "Of course." Your voice like silk as you mutter the words. 

You take a sharp turn, slipping through a narrow passage where the reflections fold over themselves like endless corridors. You move faster now, ducking under one of the low archways of glass, letting the maze do its work. Heeseung hesitates behind you, briefly lost in the overlapping images. Then, you act. You dart into one of the mirrored alcoves, pressing yourself against the cold surface. The way the mirrors are angled makes it seem as though the passage continues straight, even though you’re standing just off to the side. Heeseung rushes past you, too focused on keeping up to notice that you’ve stopped. 

​​A few seconds pass. Then, his footsteps fade. You let out a slow breath, stepping out of your hiding place. The reflections shift again, swallowing Heeseung deeper into the maze while you double back toward the hidden exit. By the time he realizes he’s been tricked, you’ll already be gone. 

You slip through the narrow streets of the market, weaving between clusters of merchants and townsfolk, the scents of roasted nuts, spiced cider, and fresh bread thick in the air. The colorful banners overhead sway lazily in the breeze, casting shifting shadows over the cobblestone path. But your focus remains sharp. You know exactly where you’re going. Behind you, Heeseung is pushing through the crowd, his irritation palpable. He hasn't realized yet that you lost him in the mirror maze on purpose, only that you’re suddenly too far ahead for his liking. 

You pick up your pace, slipping into a cramped side alley where a wooden sign hangs above a darkened shop. The paint is faded, but the symbol etched into the wood is unmistakable—an open palm with an eye in the center. The sign of an apothecary. You step inside, and immediately, the scent of dried herbs and aged parchment wraps around you like a cloak. The shop is dimly lit, with shelves stacked high with jars of powders, roots, and liquids. Small bundles of lavender, sage, and bloodroot hang from the ceiling, their fragrance mingling with the faintly acrid smell of something more potent. 

A hunched old woman stands behind the counter, her fingers gnarled like tree roots as she grinds something into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle. She doesn’t look up as you approach. "You're late," she rasps. 

You hesitate for only a fraction of a second. "Am I?" 

Her milky white eyes flick up to meet yours. "No. But I like to keep customers uneasy. It keeps them from wasting my time." You smirk despite yourself. "Then I won’t waste yours."

You lower your voice, leaning in slightly. "I need something strong. A poison. One that can kill quietly, without immediate suspicion." The old woman tilts her head, her sharp gaze scrutinizing you. Then, with slow deliberation, she sets down her pestle and shuffles to a shelf behind her, running her fingers over rows of tiny glass vials. "Death comes in many forms," she murmurs. "Painful or painless. Swift or slow. Do you wish them to suffer?" 

“Yes.” You answered honestly. “I want it to hurt.” The words leave your lips like a blade unsheathed, sharp and final. The old woman pauses, then turns slightly, considering her selection. "Painful, then. I have something fitting." She plucks a dark glass bottle from the shelf, turning it in her hands before setting it on the counter between you. "Widow’s Thorn. It seeps through the body like fire, tightening the lungs, sending agony through every nerve. A slow, excruciating death. He will beg for it to end before it takes him." 

A cold smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Perfect." The woman watches you for a long moment. "You carry great hatred in your heart, girl." Her tone was not that of judgment but of curiosity, and i bit of understanding. You meet her gaze evenly. "And he carries greater sins." 

She hums in approval before placing her gnarled hand over the vial. "It is not cheap," she warns. "Nor is it a toy." You slide a coin pouch from your sleeve, setting it on the counter with a soft clink. "I understand." The woman studies you for another long moment before removing her hand. You pick up the vial, feeling the cool glass between your fingers. 

"You’re no ordinary noble," she muses. "Your eyes are too sharp. Your hands too steady." You meet her gaze evenly. "And you ask too many questions." You hiss, your jaw tense. The old woman chuckles, a dry, rasping sound. "Perhaps. But take care, girl. Poison is a cruel death, and cruelty has a way of staining the soul." You slip the vial into the folds of your cloak, nodding once before turning toward the door. 

As you weave your way back through the winding streets, the hum of the carnival grows louder, the scent of roasted nuts and melted sugar filling the air. Lanterns sway overhead, casting flickering patterns along the cobblestone paths. You slip effortlessly into the crowd, blending among the laughter and shouts of eager festival-goers. Just as you step past a fire-breather’s act, a strong hand clamps around your wrist. You spin, already knowing who it is. 

Heeseung glares down at you, his jaw clenched tight, his dark eyes burning with irritation. “Where were you?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “I was right where you left me.” 

His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his frustration clear. “Don’t play games with me,” he hisses. “You disappeared.” You pull your wrist free, dusting off your sleeve as if his mere touch sullied it. “Maybe you were the one who got lost.” 

His brows furrow, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I wasn’t the one who suddenly vanished into thin air.” 

You smirk. “Then maybe you should be better at your job, Captain.” Sending him a mocking nod just to further piss him off. Heeseung exhales sharply, stepping in closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?” 

Your smirk doesn’t falter, but inside, a flicker of unease coils in your stomach. “And what exactly am I doing?” He studies you, his gaze raking over every inch of your face like he’s trying to decipher some hidden code. Then, he shakes his head. “I don’t know yet,” he admits, voice low and firm. “But I will.” You hold his stare, refusing to be the first to look away. 

Then, with a casual shrug, you turn on your heel, striding toward the heart of the carnival. “Try not to lose me again, Captain,” you call over your shoulder. His sigh of frustration is lost beneath the clamor of the crowd, but you don’t need to hear it. You know he’s fuming. And you relish it. 

The vial of poison sits heavy in your pocket, the glass cool against your fingertips as you walk through the dim corridors of the castle. The evening hums with quiet activity—servants moving about with trays of food, guards standing at their posts, the murmur of distant conversations blending into the ambiance of wealth and order. You keep your pace measured, controlled, your heart steady even as anticipation thrums through your veins. The kitchens are alive with motion, filled with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meats and warm bread. Flames crackle in the hearth, casting flickering light over the bustling staff. No one notices you lingering near the long oak table where steaming pots of stew are being ladled into bowls for the servants' evening meal. No one sees the small flick of your wrist as you pull the vial from your sleeve, tilting just enough for a single drop of the deadly liquid to disappear into the bubbling broth. it dissolves instantly, colorless and scentless. Perfect. Satisfied, you slip away, vanishing into the corridors before anyone can notice your presence. 

Dinner in the grand hall is an affair of indulgence and formality. The king sits at the head of the table, the queen beside him, both of them poised in their regal authority. The table stretches long, lined with glistening silver and crystalline goblets brimming with wine. Candles flicker against the polished surface, casting an intimate glow over the lavish setting. You are seated further down, close enough to play the role of the polite, eager-to-learn princess, but not too close to draw unwanted attention. Heeseung stands by the wall, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. You can feel him watching you, though you do not meet his eyes. Your hands rest lightly in your lap, your fingers curling against the fabric of your gown as you wait. And then it happens. The sound of hurried footsteps. A muffled cry from the hallway. 

​​The heavy doors burst open, slamming against the stone walls. A maid stumbles in, her face ashen, her apron twisted in her trembling fingers. Her breath comes in sharp, panicked gasps.  “Your Majesty!” she cries, eyes wild. “A-a servant—he collapsed! He’s dead!” The room stills. The queen sets down her goblet with quiet precision. The king barely moves, his gaze turning toward the distraught woman as if she were little more than a nuisance. 

“What did you say?” His voice is calm, almost lazy, but there is an undercurrent of something else—something cold, something dangerous. The maid’s throat bobs as she swallows. “T-they say… it was poison, Your Majesty.” 

You suck in a breath, widening your eyes just enough to sell the performance. A low murmur rises among the nobles at the table, whispers of concern and speculation threading through the air. “Poison?” you echo, your voice trembling ever so slightly. You place a delicate hand over your chest, as if the very notion disturbs you. The king exhales slowly, setting his goblet down with deliberate grace. He does not look surprised. He does not even look angry. He looks bored. 

He lifts his fingers, and the nearest guard steps forward. “Bring me the chef.” The murmurs grow louder as the order is carried out. The tension in the room tightens, a string pulled taut, ready to snap. Servants shift uncomfortably, the flickering candlelight making their faces look gaunt and uneasy. You sit perfectly still, your posture straight, your expression frozen in careful distress. Minutes stretch long before the doors open again, and the head chef is dragged into the room, his face pale with sweat. His apron is still dusted with flour, his hands trembling as he is forced onto his knees before the king. The silence is suffocating. 

The chef’s lips tremble. “Your Majesty,” he gasps, bowing his head so low his forehead nearly touches the marble floor. “I swear upon my life, I would never—” The king tilts his head, studying the man as one would study a fly that has landed in their wine. “Do not lie to me.” His voice is quiet, but the weight of it crushes the air from the room. “A man is dead. Someone is responsible.” 

The chef shakes his head violently. “It wasn’t me! I have worked in this kitchen for years! I would never—” The king lifts a hand, a simple flick of his wrist. The command is unspoken, but the nearest guard knows what it means. Steel flashes in the candlelight. A single stroke. A sickening, wet sound. The chef’s head hits the polished marble floor with a dull thud. Blood pools in thick, slow streams, spreading out like ink on parchment. A servant gasps. One of the nobles flinches. But no one speaks. You inhale sharply, letting your fingers tremble as you press them to your lips, your eyes wide with horror. Inside, your heart races—not with fear, but with something else. Power. 

The king sighs, as if exhausted by the whole ordeal. He picks up his goblet and takes a long, unbothered sip of his wine before turning his attention back to the table. “My apologies for the disturbance,” he says smoothly. “Shall we continue?” And just like that, the feast resumes. Conversation stirs back to life, noble voices rising once more, the clinking of silverware against porcelain filling the void left by the dying man’s last breath. You lower your gaze, the picture of a shaken princess, but inside, your mind is alight with possibility. The poison worked. Now, all that’s left is to decide when the king will drink his own dose. And when he does, you will make sure his suffering is slow. Painful. Unforgettable. 

The morning light filters softly through the high windows of your chambers, casting delicate golden patterns across the marble floor. The events of last night linger in your mind like the ghost of a dream, the image of the chef’s head hitting the cold stone floor replaying itself over and over. The king’s lack of hesitation, the way the entire room returned to feasting as though nothing had happened—it only fuels the fire within you. Today, you will continue your plan. After dressing, you step into the hallway where, as expected, Heeseung is not waiting for you. 

Instead, another guard stands in his place—a man taller, broader, but lacking the quiet sharpness that Heeseung always carried like a second skin. His armor gleams, freshly polished, his stance stiff and professional. You slow your steps, letting irritation seep into your voice. "Where is Heeseung?" you ask, folding your arms as you tilt your chin up slightly. 

The guard, clearly not accustomed to being questioned, hesitates for a moment before responding, "Captain Heeseung is taking a personal day, Your Highness." Your brows lift in surprise. "A personal day?" The words feel foreign in relation to Heeseung. He never struck you as the type to take time for himself, not when he carried that ever-present scowl and duty as if they were armor. 

The guard shifts slightly, looking uncomfortable under your scrutiny. "Yes, Your Highness. He did not say when he would return, only that he would be back when needed." You study the man, noting the slight tension in his stance, the way his hand stays a little too close to the hilt of his sword. You’re not the only one unsettled by Heeseung’s absence. “Interesting,” you muse, keeping your voice light, as if this information does not bother you. But it does. Something is off. Heeseung doesn’t just disappear. He doesn't get days off. And though you should welcome the reprieve from his constant watchful presence, you find yourself… unsettled. Not because you miss his company—certainly not—but because Heeseung’s absence means unpredictability. And unpredictability is dangerous. 

For now, you will play along. You give the guard a measured look before sighing dramatically. “Well, I suppose that means you will have to endure escorting me today.” 

The man straightens. “It would be my honor, Your Highness.” Annoyingly polite. You roll your eyes. “How unfortunate for you.” And with that, you turn on your heel, already planning your next move. Wherever Heeseung is, you will find out soon enough. 

-

You had to get away from this guard. He was dumb, unmoving. He didn’t speak and barely moved. You could outsmart him, escape. There’s no time to waste. “I’m going to the washroom” You spoke quickly, not giving him much time to respond. “Wait-” The guard said, hand stretched out. 

“Would you really stop a lady who’s in her bleeding from using the bathroom guard?” You had made uncomfortable with your talk of women's duties. He bowed his head, eyes not meeting your own. Coward. Pathetic coward. What kind of man gets squeamish at the thought of blood? The guards stationed outside the hall barely acknowledge you as you sweep past them, your head held high, posture regal. The trick to sneaking around isn’t to skulk in the shadows—it’s to make people believe you belong wherever you are. And right now, you belong anywhere you damn well please. The deeper you go into the castle, the more the corridors narrow, the lavish decorations thinning out as you approach restricted areas. You slow your steps, eyes scanning for anything useful—an unguarded door, an overlooked passageway, something that will lead you closer to the king’s private quarters. 

You turn a corner and pause. Through an open archway, the scent of steel and sweat lingers in the air. The sound of a blade slicing through air, followed by the heavy thunk of metal embedding into wood, echoes through the hall. You step closer, careful to keep yourself hidden behind a pillar, and peer inside. There he is. Heeseung stands in the center of the training room, sleeves rolled up, his tunic damp with sweat. His usual pristine appearance is gone—his hair tousled, his expression hard with focus. But it’s his hands that capture your attention. A dagger twirls effortlessly between his fingers, moving so fluidly it’s as if it’s an extension of his own body. He flicks his wrist, and the blade slices through the air before burying itself into the target at the far end of the room. 

Bullseye. 

Without hesitation, he pulls another dagger from his belt. Spins it. Throws. Another perfect hit. Again. And again. Each throw is precise, calculated, deadly. You watch in silence, captivated despite yourself. You’ve seen skilled fighters before—your own mother had trained you in combat, in magic—but Heeseung moves with an effortless grace that is as infuriating as it is impressive. You wonder if he even realizes how dangerous he looks right now. Then, as if sensing your gaze, Heeseung stills. Your breath catches. For a split second, you think he’s caught you. But he only exhales, rolling out his shoulders before retrieving his knives from the wooden targets. The tension in your body eases slightly, though your mind remains alert. You shouldn’t be here. You should be searching for the king’s quarters, not watching the irritating captain of the guard train like some entranced fool. The rhythmic thunk of steel embedding into wood echoes through the training yard. Heeseung moves with effortless precision, each throw of his blade landing dead center on the target. His stance is steady, his expression unreadable, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes—a quiet intensity that speaks of years of discipline.

You watch from the shadows, hidden behind one of the stone pillars framing the open-air training ground. He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on the fluidity of his movements, the weight of the blade in his grip. But after a few minutes, his motions slow. His shoulders tense ever so slightly. Then, as if some unseen force pulls his gaze, he turns. His eyes lock onto you, narrowing the moment he registers your presence. For a flicker of a second, surprise flashes across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something sharper—anger. 

“Why are you alone?” he demands, striding toward you. “Where’s your guard?” You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Somewhere, I suppose.” Heesseung looks angry; you wouldn't tell if the redness was from his prior workout or anger. His jaw tenses. “And he just let you wander off?” 

You offer him a lazy smile, tilting your head. “I suppose he did.” Heeseung exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” His voice is low with frustration as he moves to usher you back inside. “Come on, let’s go. You shouldn’t be out here.” But you don’t budge. “No.” 

His steps falter, his brows knitting together. “No?” You cross your arms. “I want to spar.” 

He scoffs. “Absolutely not.” 

“I insist.” 

“I don’t care.” 

You tilt your head, eyes gleaming with something he can’t quite place. “Afraid I might win?”

His expression darkens. “Afraid I’ll break you.”

You step closer, raising your chin defiantly. “Try.” For a moment, he says nothing. There’s a war in his gaze, hesitation battling irritation, but something about your confidence—your audacity—chips away at his resistance. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he relents. “Fine,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders. “A few rounds. That’s it.”

The sparring circle is a wide-open space in the center of the training grounds, enclosed by a low fence. Heeseung steps in first, rolling his sleeves up as he retrieves two training daggers. He tosses one to you without warning, but you catch it easily, twirling it once in your grip. He eyes the movement with quiet appraisal before stepping into position. “Try to keep up,” he says.

You smirk. “Likewise.” Then he moves. He’s fast, striking without hesitation. You barely dodge his first attack, sidestepping at the last second before blocking his next strike with your blade. The clash of steel rings through the air. Heeseung doesn’t let up, forcing you backward, testing your reflexes. You knew he was skilled, but this—this is something else. Every move is calculated, precise. He’s relentless, but so are you. You don’t fight like a princess. You fight like a survivor. And soon, Heeseung realizes that. The match intensifies. You anticipate his strikes, dodging just enough to throw him off balance, forcing him to adjust. He sees it now—the sharp intelligence behind your movements, the way you don’t just react, but plan. And then, just as he thinks he has you cornered—you outmaneuver him.

With a sharp pivot, you twist out of his reach, knocking his blade off course. Before he can recover, you close the distance, pressing your dagger against his throat. Heeseung stills. The only sound is your heavy breathing, the pounding of your heart, the weight of the moment hanging between you. His dark eyes search yours, something unreadable flickering in them. Then, his voice—low, measured. “Who are you?” You tilt your head, pressing the blade just a little closer, enough to make a point. Then, voice soft, you ask,

“I don’t know. Who are you? Do you ever truly know who you really are?” The question lingers between you like smoke, curling into the air. His breath is shallow, his gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment—just a fleeting moment—you both forget yourselves. Your faces are close. Too close. The sharpness of the fight melts into something else, something neither of you acknowledge but feel all the same. His eyes flicker to your lips. Your grip on the dagger tightens. But before anything can happen, before the tension snaps—you pull away. Slowly, deliberately, you lower the blade, stepping back just enough to let the moment pass. Heeseung exhales, something unreadable in his expression. You smirk, tossing the blade back to him. “Good match.” Then, without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him standing in the circle, breathless and utterly at a loss for words. 

That night, the castle feels different. A hush has settled over its grand halls, a silence deeper than usual, as if the walls themselves are holding their breath. A storm churns in the distance, flashes of lightning illuminating the arched windows, followed by the low rumble of thunder rolling across the land. The wind rattles against the stone, whispering through the cracks, but inside, everything remains still. It is the perfect night to disappear. Hushed whispers of a ball being thrown had been thrown about the castle like a plague. Every staff member was occupied with making it as grand as possible for the king and queen, no one would even notice you moving throughout the castle like a wraith in the night. You move like a shadow through the corridors, your cloak wrapped tightly around you, masking the movement of your form. The guards are stationed at their usual posts, their movements predictable, their patterns unchanged. You’ve studied them, memorized them, and now you slip past with ease, ducking into alcoves and timing your steps to the rhythm of their shifting patrols. 

The grand halls of the upper castle give way to narrower passageways as you descend, leaving behind the golden glow of chandeliers for the dim flicker of torches. You pass cold stone walls lined with forgotten paintings, their gilded frames dulled with dust, their subjects long since faded into irrelevance. Down here, the air is thick with something ancient, something heavy that clings to your skin and settles in your lungs. You need to go deeper. You recall the books you pored over in the library, the pages that spoke of the castle’s underbelly—of vaults hidden beneath layers of stone, of corridors long abandoned by those who walk in the daylight. The king is a collector, a hoarder of power. His vaults hold relics of immense magical strength—artifacts stolen, bought, or seized by force. Somewhere in this castle, he has hidden them away, locked behind spells and steel, guarded by something more fearsome than any soldier. The thought of it quickens your pulse. A kitsune. 

The old texts mention it only in passing, never in detail. A fox spirit of great power, bound to the king by means unknown. A guardian of his most prized possessions, watching over them with an unwavering gaze. The mere idea of it is enough to make most people turn away, abandon their curiosity. But you are not most people. Your fingers brush against the cool stone wall as you tread carefully down a spiraling stairway, your ears straining for any sound beyond your own heartbeat. The deeper you go, the more the castle shifts. The polished grandeur of the upper levels fades, replaced by something older, something untouched by time’s gentle hand. Here, the walls are raw, uneven, carved by those who built the kingdom’s foundations centuries ago. The torches burn lower, their light flickering against carvings worn down with age. Whispers of history cling to the very air, as if this place remembers all that has passed within its depths. 

Then, a feeling washes over you—like a change in pressure, like stepping into the eye of a storm. Magic. It hums in the air, subtle yet undeniable. The taste of it lingers on your tongue, thick and electric, coiling through the corridor like an unseen force. You are close. Your breath is steady as you move forward, every step measured, every sense heightened. You know better than to rush. Whatever lies ahead is more than mere locked doors and guards with steel. This place breathes magic. And somewhere in the depths of this castle, hidden behind layers of spellwork and shadow, the kitsune waits. You continue in the shadows until you come upon a door. The heavy door looms before you, thick with iron reinforcements and etched with sigils of protection. It’s unmistakable—this is where the king hides his most treasured artifacts, his most dangerous secrets. But it’s not unguarded. Two men stand at either side, their hands resting lazily on the hilts of their swords. They’re not expecting trouble—why would they? No one should be foolish enough to wander this deep into the castle, let alone pose a real threat. That works in your favor. 

You take a steadying breath, smoothing out the frantic beat of your heart before stepping forward, letting panic seep into your features, widening your eyes, letting your breath hitch as if you've been running for your life "Please!" Your voice is rushed, desperate. "I— I think I’m lost. I don’t know how I got down here, I was just trying to find my way back, and then—" You swallow, letting your hands tremble. "There were voices. I heard something. I got scared." 

One of the guards furrows his brow. "How did you even get down here?" He eyes you warily, shifting his stance. "I— I don’t know," you stammer, stepping closer, your body language frantic. "I was exploring, and then I took a wrong turn, and then suddenly I was just… here." They exchange glances, their suspicion flickering into something softer—concern. You’ve played your part well. "You shouldn’t be here, Princess," the other guard says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "This area is off-limits. We’ll escort you back—" 

Before he can finish, you move. A whisper of power curls from your lips, the incantation slipping through the air like a snake through grass. The first guard barely has time to react before his head jerks violently to the side, the sickening crack of bone snapping echoing through the stone corridor. His body crumples to the ground. The second guard recoils, horror flashing in his eyes. "Witch!" he bellows, drawing his sword and charging at you. You barely have the strength to lift your hand, but you don’t need much. Another whisper of your spell, and his charge is cut short—his neck twists sharply, and he collapses in a lifeless heap beside his comrade. Your breath comes ragged and uneven. Magic floods through your veins, but it takes from you as much as it gives. Your limbs are heavy, exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders like a weight. The price of your power. You don’t have time to dwell on it. Stepping over their bodies, you press a hand to the iron door. Magic thrums beneath your fingertips, woven through the metal itself. The king is cautious—he wouldn’t leave his treasures unprotected. But you are not just anyone. 

Summoning what little energy you have left, you press your palm against the seal and begin to whisper another spell. The lock trembles. The air crackles. Then, with a final pulse of energy, the door groans and clicks open. You push forward, slipping inside, knowing your time is running out. The chamber hums with power, its air thick with ancient magic, the weight of centuries pressing down on you. The sconces along the walls flicker with eerie blue fire, casting shifting shadows over the stolen artifacts—daggers humming with curses, crowns still stained with dried blood, vials of glowing liquid that pulse as if alive. Your fingers skim over them, barely paying attention. None of it matters. None of it will help you kill the king. 

Then you see it. A small glass case, set apart from the others. You step closer, your breath catching in your throat. Inside the case, a severed finger rests on a velvet cushion. For a moment, your mind refuses to understand. The skin has shriveled with time, the bone just barely visible beneath. But your eyes lock onto the ring—silver, inlaid with dark opal that shimmers with hues of deep purple and green. It was your mothers ring, your mothers finger. A sharp inhale stabs through your ribs. You know this ring better than anything. You remember tracing the intricate metal work as a child while curled up in her lap. You remember the way she twisted it absently when she was lost in thought, the way candlelight flickered against its surface as she cast spells in the dead of night. And now, it sits before you—severed, encased, displayed like a grotesque trophy. Your hands shake as you press your fingers against the glass, breath fogging up the surface. No. No, no, no. A cold, empty feeling spreads through your chest, then morphs—growing hotter, sharper. Your vision blurs, rage and grief mixing into something unbearable. 

Your fist slams against the case. Nothing. Again, harder. The glass doesn’t even crack. "Open," you whisper, voice raw. "Open, damn you." The magic inside you stirs, a furious storm barely contained. You summon it, let it coil in your palm before slamming your magic against the case. Sparks crackle against the glass, but it remains untouched. Spell-locked. A sob of frustration bubbles up, but you swallow it down. Hot tears slip down your cheeks, your breathing ragged. They mutilated her. Desecrated her. Took her apart and locked away a piece of her like some sick prize. You grip the edges of the case, nails digging into the wood. The weight of loss, of helplessness, crushes down on you, threatens to drag you under. You want to destroy everything in this room, rip apart the shelves, burn this entire wretched castle to the ground. But you don’t have time. Not now. But soon. Your mother’s ring—her body—will not remain here. You will come back. You will tear this place apart if you have to. But first, the king must die. 

Your shoulders heave as you force yourself to turn away, scanning the shelves with red-rimmed eyes. Then, something catches your attention. A slender vial, shimmering deep crimson in the dim light. You reach for it, your fingers brushing over the cold glass. The moment you pick it up, you feel the power inside—dense, ancient, raw. Dragon’s blood. A weapon unlike any other. Your grip tightens around the vial. The grief clawing at your chest hardens, sharp and unyielding. This will have to be enough. With one last glance at the case—the last piece of your mother left in this cursed place—you turn and slip out of the chamber, your pulse a war drum in your ears. You don’t look back. But you swear, with every shattered piece of your heart, that you will return. 

The next morning, the castle is a different place. Tension clings to the air like a storm about to break. The usual murmur of servants and guards is replaced with sharp orders and hurried footsteps. Every corridor you pass seems to hold hushed voices, uneasy glances, hands gripping weapons a little too tightly. Something is wrong. When Heeseung arrives at your chambers, his expression is carved from stone. His dark eyes, usually filled with a mixture of irritation and exasperation when he looks at you, are unreadable. "Get up," he says shortly. "You're expected at breakfast." 

You stretch your arms above your head lazily, feigning disinterest, but you study him closely. His jaw is tense, shoulders rigid beneath his uniform. "What’s with the fuss this morning?" you ask, tilting your head as you sit up. Heeseung doesn’t answer right away. He exhales through his nose, as if debating what to tell you. Finally, he settles on: "There was an intruder in the castle last night." Your stomach twists, but you keep your expression neutral. "An intruder?" you echo, feigning mild curiosity. His eyes flick over to you, sharp and assessing. "Two guards were killed. Their bodies were found near the lower levels of the castle." 

You force yourself to frown as if this is just terrible news and shake your head. "How awful," you murmur. "Who would be foolish enough to break into the king’s home?" Heeseung is still watching you. Too closely. "They don’t know yet," he says after a moment, his tone carefully measured. "But the king is furious. He’s ordered every entrance locked down. No one enters or leaves without permission." 

You hum, slipping out of bed. "Good thing I have no reason to leave, then." Heeseung scoffs, shaking his head as if he finds you exhausting. "Just get dressed," he mutters. "You're not skipping breakfast." As you move to change, your back turned to him, your mind races. They're already searching. They're already tightening security. If they realize why someone broke in—if they even suspect it was for the vault—you might not have as much time as you thought. You press your lips together. No. It doesn’t matter. The plan hasn’t changed. If anything, this only confirms what you already knew—this kingdom is built on blood and fear. You need to be careful, but you won’t stop. 

As you fasten the last piece of your attire, you catch Heeseung watching you in the reflection of the mirror. He looks as if he wants to say something—his brow furrowed, his mouth pressing into a line—but he says nothing. You turn to him with a smirk, masking the unease curling inside you. "Lead the way, my dear guard," you say lightly. Heeseung rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. You follow him out into the castle halls, stepping into a kingdom on edge. 

You stand before the ornate mirror in your chambers, staring at your reflection. The grand dress draped over your body is a masterpiece—rich fabric embroidered with delicate golden threads, dark as midnight yet shimmering under the candlelight. You look every bit the part of a royal guest, a princess attending a grand ball. But beneath the surface, beneath the layers of silk and jewels, you are something else entirely. Tonight, you are a weapon. Your fingers tighten around the small vial hidden in your palm. The Dragon’s blood. The forbidden elixir, the essence of an ancient and untamed power. You uncork it carefully, the scent metallic and sharp, like the crackle of fire before it engulfs everything in its path. Slowly, you tilt the vial, letting a single drop roll onto your tongue. The effect is instant. A current of heat rushes through your veins, not burning, but igniting something deep within. Your magic, once a slow ember, roars to life, curling through you like smoke, like lightning trapped beneath your skin. Your fingertips tingle, your senses sharpen. You feel more. More alive, more powerful, more capable. The exhaustion from the night before—the drain of breaking into the king’s vault—fades into nothing. 

You exhale, gripping the vanity table to steady yourself. You had been unsure, hesitant even, that you were strong enough. But now? Now, there is no doubt. Tonight, you will make your move. You turn back to the mirror, watching as your expression settles into something unreadable. Calculated. Regal. Deadly. The ballroom will be filled with nobles, lords, ladies, and dignitaries from far-off kingdoms. A perfect spectacle. A perfect place for a queen to fall, for a kingdom to be thrown into chaos. For a tyrant to meet his end. Straightening your posture, you give yourself one last look. This is it. 

The ballroom is alive with opulence—golden chandeliers dripping with light, polished marble floors reflecting the grandeur of silk and velvet swirling across them. The music is intoxicating, the scent of perfumed nobles and honeyed wine thick in the air. Laughter rings out, conversations swirl around you, but you hear none of it. Your mind is elsewhere. Your pulse pounds like war drums beneath your skin. You move through the crowd with effortless grace, a smile painted onto your lips as if you belong here. As if you’re not plotting the death of a king. But Heeseung is there. As always. His presence is suffocating, shadowing your every step like a second skin. His dark eyes flicker over you, unreadable, his stance tense yet controlled. He doesn’t speak much, but his gaze tells you enough. I’m watching you. You raise your chin, offering him an easy smile before returning to the conversation at hand. A nobleman drones on about trade routes, his voice a low hum beneath the sound of the orchestra. You nod, feigning interest, but your thoughts are far from politics. You need a distraction. Your fingers twitch at your side, hidden beneath the folds of your gown. You reach for the magic simmering beneath your skin, feeling it coil and tighten, waiting to be used. Just enough to pull Heeseung away—to make him focus on something else. You cursed yourself for the tiny bit of shame you felt for using magic on Heeseung but you had to do it, you had no other choice. 

You glance toward the great dais, where the king sits, adorned in his gilded robes, his expression that of a man who believes himself untouchable. Disgust coils in your stomach, but you keep your expression neutral. Soon, he will fall. You slip away from the conversation, weaving through the guests, searching for the right moment. The right opportunity. The plan was simple: a small, unseen pulse of magic. A subtle stroke of power, like a whisper through the wind, meant to strike the king down where he sits. Undetected. You reach deep, letting the dragon’s blood hum within you, amplifying the magic you summon. Your lips barely move as you utter the incantation beneath your breath, sending the spell toward the king, unseen and deadly. But something is wrong. The moment the spell leaves your fingertips, something repels it. A force stronger than your own—like an invisible wall caging him in. Your power slams into it, rebounding with such force that the air crackles, sending a ripple of energy through the room. 

And then— The chandeliers flicker. The music halts. A gust of unseen force whips through the ballroom, unsettling gowns and ruffling hair. A gasp spreads through the crowd like wildfire, confusion crackling in the air. The king is unharmed. And your magic has failed. Panic seizes your chest. All around you, nobles murmur in confusion, their gazes darting about the room, trying to make sense of the disruption. Chaos brews. Guards immediately rush forward, swords drawn, shouts echoing against the gilded walls. The tension is thick, palpable, the scent of fear curling through the air. "Find the culprit!" someone yells. Your breathing is unsteady, your pulse racing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. And then A hand clamps down on your wrist, strong and unyielding. Heeseung. And before you can say another word he’s pulling you outside towards the grand doors of the ballroom amongst the chaos. The night air is crisp, wrapping around you in cool tendrils as Heeseung all but drags you out of the grand ballroom. His grip is firm but not bruising, a silent urgency radiating from him as he pulls you through winding hallways and out into the open garden. The moment your feet hit the damp stone path, the doors click shut behind you, muffling the panicked voices and frantic movements inside. 

Moonlight washes over the garden, casting silvery shadows across the sculpted hedges and trickling fountains. The scent of night-blooming flowers clings to the air, but there’s no time to admire the beauty around you—not when Heeseung turns to you with that sharp, assessing gaze, his chest rising and falling just a little too fast. "Sit," he commands, his voice clipped and breathless. You scoff, arms crossing over your chest. "Excuse me?" Instead of answering, he steps closer, his eyes sweeping over you with meticulous precision. He looks frantic, almost wild, like a man searching for something just out of reach. His hands hover, unsure, before finally settling on your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse as if to confirm that you are, in fact, still alive. "I'm fine," you snap, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens just enough to stop you. 

"Stop," he murmurs, and this time, his voice is different. Lower. Almost pleading. Something in you hesitates. His hands move with surprising gentleness, brushing over your arms, ghosting across your shoulders, grazing your waist. Every touch is clinical, precise—searching for wounds, hidden injuries, anything that could explain the tension in his jaw, the way his brows remain furrowed even as he finds nothing. A strange warmth pools in your stomach. You shove it down. "You’re acting like you care," you say, the words sharper than you intend. 

His jaw clenches, his fingers twitching before he pulls away like you've burned him. "Don’t flatter yourself," he mutters, raking a hand through his tousled hair. Your lips curl in amusement despite yourself. "Then stop acting like you were about to have a heart attack over me." His gaze flickers, something unreadable passing through his expression before it hardens. "You could have been hurt," he grits out, like admitting it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. You blink. The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. A beat of silence stretches between you, thick and charged. 

Then, slowly, you step closer, tilting your head up at him. "Were you worried, Heeseung?" His throat bobs. His eyes flicker down to your lips—just for a second, barely noticeable—before snapping back up to meet yours. "I'm doing my job," he says, but the words sound hollow even to him. You hum, unconvinced. "Are you?" Silence. The space between you feels impossibly small. Heeseung is still close, his breath warm against your skin, his scent—something dark and woodsy, laced with steel—curling around you. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the remnants of adrenaline mixing with something else. Something more dangerous. For a fleeting moment, you wonder what would happen if you reached up, if you closed that final inch between you. If you tilted your chin just a little higher— no. 

“Yes, doing my job.” He said again not meeting your piercing gaze. You scoff. "Your job? Is your job doting on me like I’m some fragile, innocent, doe-eyed princess?" You take another step toward him, closing the space he’s put between you. "Why are you so obsessed with making sure I’m okay?" Heeseung clenches his jaw, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, you think he won’t answer. But then— "It’s my duty," he grits out. "As the king’s guard, it’s my responsibility to protect the people." 

You roll your eyes. "The people. How noble of you." You cross your arms over your chest. "That doesn’t explain why you—the ever-dutiful Heeseung—seem to be more concerned about me than anyone else." He stares at you, his nostrils flaring slightly, tension coiling in the set of his shoulders. His lips press into a thin line like he’s fighting something, some war within himself. Then, finally, he exhales. And when he speaks, his voice is lower. Rougher. "Because I care about you." Your breath catches. His confession hangs between you, raw and unguarded. He looks almost regretful for saying it, as if the words left his mouth before he could stop them. 

You swallow, heartbeat hammering. "You—" 

"I care about you," he repeats, like he’s forcing himself to admit it, to say it out loud. His brows knit together, frustration laced in his voice. "And I hate that I do. But I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you." You should say something. You should throw some quip back at him, something sharp and taunting. But the way he’s looking at you now—dark eyes flickering with something intense, something dangerous—steals the words from your tongue. The air between you shifts. Neither of you move, but the gravity between you pulls tighter, like a thread stretched to its breaking point. You can feel the heat of his body, the restrained tension radiating from him like a caged storm. His gaze dips to your lips. You don’t think. You just act. You grab the front of his shirt and pull him down to you. His lips crash against yours, rough and unrelenting. It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s desperate. You hadn’t been touched for what seemed like forever, the feeling of a man's hands running up and down your body had felt foreign. You were not experienced but you weren't a virgin eachother. Action was hard to come by in the coven believe it or not. Heeseung makes a low sound in the back of his throat, something between frustration and need, as he presses you back against the stone wall. His hands are on you—gripping your waist, sliding up your arms, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s trying to ground himself, to remind himself that you’re real. 

Your own hands tangle into his hair, pulling, needing him closer, needing more. He growls against your lips, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushes against you. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat pounding just as wildly as your own. The kiss deepens, turns hungrier, more fevered. You nip at his lower lip, and he exhales sharply, his fingers tightening on your waist. His control is slipping—you can feel it in the way his breathing turns ragged, the way his hands grip you like he’s afraid to let go. For a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. There is no ball, no king, no duty or vengeance. Just this. Just him. His hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your hips as he backs you against the cold stonewall of the secluded garden. Your breath hitches as the contrast between the chill of the stone and the heat of his body sends a shiver down your spine. Heeseung feels it—his grip tightening, his fingers curling into you as if he wants to pull you closer, eliminating the space between you entirely. You don’t speak your tangle of tongues and teeth speaking for you. 

You respond in kind, your hands sliding up his chest, over the rapid rise and fall of his breaths, until they find their way to his hair. You tug—harder this time, just to see what he’ll do. Heeseung groans against your lips, the sound reverberating through your bones, and in retaliation, he presses his body flush against yours. A gasp slips from you at the overwhelming sensation of him—his warmth, his strength, the way he fits against you so perfectly it almost feels inevitable. You’re drowning in him, lost in the way his lips move against yours—urgent, searching, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you. The air between you crackles with something electric, something undeniable, something that neither of you can ignore anymore. His hands wander, sliding up your sides, over the delicate fabric of your gown. When his fingers skim the bare skin of your arm, you shudder. Heeseung notices. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, something dangerously close to reverence. "You shouldn’t do that," you murmur, your voice breathless. "Do what?" he asks, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Look at me like that." Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, the sound tinged with something like frustration. "Then stop making it so damn hard." 

Your heart stutters. And then his lips are on yours again, softer this time—lingering, savoring. His hands cradle your face like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, his thumbs brushing gentle strokes along your jaw. It’s different now—less rushed, less desperate, but no less intense. He pushes you up against the moss covered wall of the royal garden, his breathing slightly labored. “We should stop.” He pants out his breathing hitting your face, his lips hovering over yours. 

“We should.” You nodded, “But I don't want to.” You muttered. You reattach your lips to his refusing to acknowledge the world around you, to ignore the fact that you very well could get caught in this garden with the captain of the king's guard lips attached to yours. You found it hard to care, not when his hands were roaming your body like he owned it. Like he wanted to eat you whole and you’d let him. You’d let him skin you alive, picking at you layer by layer until you laid bare in front of him. You didn't have the time for that. No matter how badly you wanted to take your time with him you simply couldn't. You had to be quick and you had a sharp feeling that wouldn't bother Heeseung much. 

“I want you.” You hissed out. Your hands reach to cup his face. “Let me have you.” Heeseung’s face changed from shock to lust in such an instant you thought you might have imagined the change. 

“This is wrong.” He shook his head, stepping back not even an inch. It looked like it pained him to move even the slightest. Like it would kill him to not be touching you. You felt the same. “Who cares.” Your voice was light, airy. It almost sounded desperate, a tone you had never heard from yourself. You didn't know whether to be embarrassed or not. Standing here begging a man to take you. You had never been so vulnerable before and it scared you. This wasn't what you were here for, you had one mission and that was to kill the king not fall in love. Your mouth and body seemed to have a mind of its own. You shook your head, stepping forward, your hand landing on Heeseung’s arm. 

“It’s Okay.” You whispered. “Do you want me, Heeseung?” You asked, your voice stern as your eyes searched his.  

“I-” He started out but you shook your head, asking him once again. “Do you want me?” 

“Yes.” Heeseung said without much more hesitation. His lips were back on yours before you could utter another word. His tongue mingled with yours. It was exhilarating and mind numbing, a great escape away from everything that plagued your mind as of late. His hands pawed at your skirts, inching them up slower and slower. It was if he was hinting at it, like you both hadn’t just agreed to do this. Your hands reached for your skirts pulling them up hastily. 

“Don’t beat around the bush.” You pant. “Fuck me.” Your words served as a catalyst for Heeseung’s growing lust. His hands worked on his belt and then his pants yanking them down just enough to free himself. Your chest heaved up and down feeling constrained in your very tight corset. “You’ll have to pull out. I cannot become with child Heeseung.” 

Heeseung nodded his head but said nothing, almost as if he wanted to ignore the topic. You understood that completely. You didn’t want to stop and think of what the two of you were actually doing and what it would cost if you were caught, no that would be disastrous. It would ruin your entire plans and everything you had worked so hard for you. You shook the thoughts away, you didn't need to over complicate things now. Heeseung’s lips met your neck in a haste. His lips trailed down the column of your neck until it reached your collarbone and lower. His mouth attaching to your cleavage and hands cupping your breasts over your dress. 

“Are you ready?” He asked you, his eyes meeting yours. You nodded at him. You needed him to do something, now. You watched only his face as you felt him lift your skirts a bit more for more access. His hands sliding over your bare thighs. His eyes flicked down only for a moment before you felt him at your entrance. The two of you were silent but the sound of your silence was loud enough. You didn’t need words, not when your need for each other spoke for you. You felt him slide into you with slow ease. His breath catching but his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Oh god.” You muttered out. Your voice was wispy and almost airy but you couldn't help it, just the initial stretch of Heeseung had felt like a tiny piece of heaven that you hadn't known you needed until you got it. “Is this ok?” He asked as he made shallow thrusts into you with only his tip going in and out of you. 

“Yes.” You hissed. “More.” Heeseung’s hips moved faster against yours. You tried your best at keeping your noises low in your throat. You didn't know if guards were wandering around the garden or not. Heeseung’s soft moans are the main source of noise between the two of you as he hurriedly rutted into you like a ravaged dog in heat. Your back bumping against the moss covered all over and over as Heeseung worked himself over you. 

You looked up at Heeseung with doe-like eyes. Sweat dripped from his brow, his mouth slightly agape. “That feel good?” You asked him with a slight smirk. Heeseung’s eyes met your own with a bewildered look. 

“So fucking good.” He grunted, slamming his lips against yours more rough than before. A squeak left your lips at the contact bracing your hand behind you on the wall. “Such a pretty pussy for a pretty little princess too.” His words caught you off guard, he was dirty talking to you. And it was so fucking hot. 

“Yeah?” You asked breathily, running your hands over his clothed chest. “You like using my tight little princess pussy don’t you? Fucking me so good.” Heeseung groaned, groping at your ass over your dress. His thrust became less coordinated, more rushed. 

“Fuck. Yes.” Heeseung grunted each snap of his lips bringing you that much closer to your end, heat bubbling in your core ready to explode. And explode it did, like a blinding light you reached your end convulsing around Heeseung’s cock like a starving whore. Your hand stuck to your mouth to cover the sounds that spilled from your lips. Heesung watched you intently, his eyes drinking in your haze of lust like he was under a spell and he didn't care. Soon Heeseung was pulling away in a haste causing a gasp to leave your lips. His hand moved up and down himself, a groan leaving his lips as he spilled his spend all over his hand, making a mess of himself. 

Only silence hung in the air after as the both of you caught your breath. Heeseung washes his hands off in the fountain in the garden. Heeseung turns to you, his face flush, he reaches a hand out to you cupping your cheek gently, still no words fading between the two of you. Still, you’re silent, so silent you could hear a pin drop. You stared up at him watching as his eyes intently bounced around your face, probably taking what had just happened between the two of you. You could feel the shifted energy between the two of you. Things have changed, no matter how much you didnt want them to, they did. A distant noise from the castle—a door opening, the faint sound of voices—pierces through the haze, snapping you both back to reality. Heeseung tenses first. He pulls back slowly, his breathing heavy, his lips still parted as if he might say something. But he doesn’t. Instead, he releases you and just like that, the spell between you breaks. You stare at each other, caught in a silence thick with unspoken words. Then Heeseung swallows, straightens his posture, and takes a step back. "We should go inside," he says, his voice rough. You nod, though your body still hums with the memory of his touch. Neither of you say anything else as you make your way back toward the castle, but one thing is clear—whatever just happened between you, whatever this is…it’s far from over. 

The war room is thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of failure. Heeseung stands rigid before the king, his jaw clenched, hands behind his back in a position of forced composure. Across the long table, the king and queen sit side by side, their expressions carved from stone—one of fury, the other of calculation. "How," the king begins, his voice dangerously even, "was there an intruder in my castle, undetected, and yet none of you useless guards managed to catch them?" No one dares to answer. The other high-ranking guards are present, standing along the edges of the room, their heads slightly bowed in shame. The captain shifts uncomfortably beside Heeseung, but he too says nothing. 

The king slams a fist onto the table. "A witch," he seethes. "We know it was a witch. What we don't know is how they got in, how they killed my men, and what the hell they were looking for!" Heeseung remains silent, staring ahead at the flickering torches along the stone walls. His mind replays the scene over and over—the slaughtered guards, their twisted bodies, the power that had killed them. It was magic. Dark magic. "We found no trace of them," The captain finally says, his voice tight. "No lingering presence of a spell, no indication of their path in or out. It's like they vanished into thin air." 

"They used magic," The queen interjects coolly, her eyes sharp as a dagger. "That is what witches do." Her tone had Heeseung’s skin prickling with a sense of fear. "Then why didn't we sense it? Why didn’t our barriers—" He started. 

"Because they are getting stronger," The king snaps. His gaze falls to Heeseung now, pinning him in place. "You have been keeping tabs on them, have you not? Watching their movements, ensuring they don’t have the power to rise again? Did you fail me, Heeseung?" The weight of the king’s words settle deep in his chest, heavy and suffocating. Heeseung straightens. "No, Your Majesty," he replies firmly. "We have been monitoring the council and the remaining witches closely. There has been no sign of a rebellion, no whisper of an attack. If there is an unknown witch at work, then they are acting alone." 

The king's lip curls. "And yet they managed to infiltrate my home." Heeseung has no response to that. The king exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He is furious, but there is something else beneath his rage—something colder, something more dangerous. A deep-seated hatred, burning just beneath his skin. The queen tilts her head, studying Heeseung carefully. "And what of the stolen artifacts?" she asks. "Has there been any sign of what was taken?" 

"A vial of dragon’s blood," One of the guards answers. "Nothing else was missing." The room goes deathly silent. Heeseung curses under his breath. The king's fingers twitch against the table. "Dragon’s blood," he murmurs, his tone turning sharp. "And you all think nothing of this? Do you not know what that blood does?!" A shiver rolls through the room. Everyone knows. Dragon’s blood enhances magic. Strengthens it. Sharpens it. The king rises from his seat slowly, his gaze flickering toward the shadows of the room. "This was no ordinary thief," he says, more to himself than anyone else. "This was a witch preparing for something." His voice hardens as he turns back to them. "Find them. I don’t care what it takes—double the guards, search every crevice of the castle, and burn every witch’s den in this kingdom if you have to. I want their head." 

A chorus of "Yes, Your Majesty," follows. Heeseung says nothing, simply inclining his head. He should be agreeing. He should be vowing to track this witch down, to put an end to this threat before it grows. And yet, Something gnaws at the edges of his mind, an uneasy whisper he refuses to acknowledge. The magic. The precision. The cleverness. His thoughts flicker—just for a second—to her. To the princess. To her uncanny way of maneuvering around the castle, her endless curiosity, the way she always asks about magic, as if she understands it more than she lets on. The way she had moved against him in their sparring match—controlled, sharp, deadly. And last night. The way he had kissed her. The way she had felt against him when they were intimate. Could it be—? No. He shoves the thought away before it can take root. It’s impossible. The princess was raised in the east, far from the magic-infested ruins of this kingdom. There is no way she could be tied to witches. No way she could have been the one to— No. Heeseung forces the thought from his mind, locking it away. It’s just a coincidence. That’s all. Nothing more. 

The castle is restless the next morning, an undercurrent of tension crackling through the air like a coming storm. Servants rush about, their voices hushed, their movements careful. Guards patrol every corridor, hands tight around their weapons. The nobles murmur amongst themselves, their eyes darting toward the throne room as whispers slither through the grand halls. "A witch," someone hisses near you as you glide past. "Inside the castle. Undetected. Can you imagine?" Another voice responds just as high pitched "Brazen enough to try and kill the king!" You roll your eyes, a smirk on your face. "They should burn them all, just like before." Your jaw tightens, your nails pressing into your palms so hard they nearly break skin. You keep walking, silent, unassuming. But with every step, the whispers become harder to ignore. Then– words that would make any daughter break. "It’s just like what happened years ago... with her—with that whore of a witch." 

Your breath halts. Ahead of you, a gilded sitting room lies open, sunlight spilling through arched windows onto plush velvet furniture. A small group of noblewomen are gathered there, draped in silks, laughter like chiming bells. They sip from delicate porcelain teacups, their words laced with venom, utterly unaware of the storm they are inviting upon themselves. "She thought she could kill the king—thought she was worthy of a crown instead.” 

"And look where she ended up—stripped of her magic, betrayed by her own people, her head taken before she could even beg for mercy." The edges of your vision darken only anger simmering in your blood. You step closer, silent as a shadow. "They should have burned her body instead of scattering it like filth." Your blood roars in your ears, your heart pounding in your chest. "At least the king took a trophy," one of the women sneers, swirling her tea idly. "That ring of hers—how pathetic. As if a simple bauble could ever make a witch a queen." The world around you stills at the realization. Your mother. They were talking about your mother. Your breathing slows. The fire inside you, carefully stoked and contained for so long, now flares into something feral, something uncontrollable. 

But they don't know. They don't know who you are, what you're capable of. They don't know that your anger speaks for itself and that your magic is the greatest weapon you yield, but they were about to find out. A slow, measured breath slips past your lips. The air hums with power as you lift your fingers, just enough to let your magic slither through them. Invisible. Deadly. The woman in the center, the one with the sharpest tongue, freezes mid-sip. Her teacup hovers just below her lips. She gasps, eyes going wide but then her whole body stiffens. A shudder rolls through her frame, the muscles in her throat working against an invisible force. The porcelain cup slips from her fingers, shattering against the floor. A single crack, and then—snap. 

Her head jerks violently to the side, the sickening sound of bone breaking echoing through the room. She crumples instantly, collapsing forward onto the table, lifeless. There was a moment of silence, a fleeting moment you quite enjoyed. But then– screams. Blood curdling screams that brought you only joy. The other women scramble back, knocking over teacups and trays in their blind panic. One of them shrieks, hands clamped over her mouth as she stares in horror at the limp, twisted form before her. You let the sound wash over you, slow satisfaction curling through your chest. Without a word, you turn on your heel and walk away, your steps light, effortless. The wails of the noblewomen ring through the corridor behind you, a discordant symphony of fear and hysteria, but you don't look back. You don’t have to. Because for the first time in years, you feel like your mother’s daughter. 

Evening descends upon the castle, casting long shadows through the stone corridors. You sit by your vanity, absently tracing the rim of a goblet with your fingertip, waiting. The distant sounds of hurried footsteps and hushed voices in the halls tell you the kingdom is still shaken, still trying to piece together what happened this morning, and at the ball. A knock raps at your chamber door and you already know who it is. You can sense, feel him. "Come in," you call, voice smooth, controlled. The door creaks open, and Heeseung steps in, his usual composed demeanor in place, but there’s something tense about the way his shoulders sit. His eyes flick over you—your carefully arranged hair, the gown draped over your form, the utter calmness in your posture. His gaze lingers on your face a beat too long before he clears his throat. "Dinner," he says simply. 

You arch a brow. "Just us?" This would be the first time since you’ve arrived where you wouldn't be having dinner with the King and Queen. "The king and queen are otherwise occupied. Security measures." Heeseung mutters his gaze avoiding yours. "How intimate," you remark dryly, standing and brushing past him. His scent lingers—leather, steel, something faintly smoky. You don’t miss the way he exhales sharply, as if steeling himself, before following after you. 

The dining chamber is much smaller than the grand halls you’re used to. The table is modest in comparison, only set for two. Silver candleholders flicker between the untouched dishes. The air is thick—too quiet, too heavy with something unspoken. You take your seat, watching Heeseung as he settles into his own across from you. He’s stiff, guarded, too preoccupied with the food before him to even look at you. You let the silence drag, waiting for him to say something. But of course, he doesn’t. You stab a piece of meat with your fork. "Are we going to pretend it didn’t happen?" His eyes snap up to you narrowing slightly as if to dare you to keep going. So, in turn you do. Testing the limits was your favorite pastime after all. You tilt your head, feigning innocence. "The sex," you clarify, twirling the utensil between your fingers. Heeseung tenses. "This is neither the time nor the place." 

"Then when is, Heeseung?" You lean forward slightly, voice laced with challenge. "After another failed assassination attempt? Perhaps over breakfast? Maybe I should schedule it between my courtly duties and plotting treason." His jaw tightens. "Don’t," he warns. His cool tone had you hot. You had to remind yourself that this was not the time for that. You roll your eyes, exhaling dramatically. "You’re being ridiculous." 

He sets his knife down with a sharp clink, the muscles in his arms flexing as he pushes his chair back. "Come with me." You blink, caught off guard as he stands abruptly and moves to your side. Before you can protest, his fingers curl around your wrist—not harsh, but firm. "Heeseung—" 

"Not here," he mutters, already dragging you from your seat. You follow, your pulse a slow, deliberate thrum beneath your skin. He doesn’t let go, guiding you through the corridors with determined strides, past watchful guards and dimly lit hallways. Then, The library doors swing open, swallowing you both into the quiet expanse of towering shelves and candlelight. The scent of parchment and ink wraps around you, thick and familiar. Heeseung doesn’t stop until you’re deep inside, far from any prying eyes. He finally releases you, exhaling sharply as he runs a hand through his hair. "You shouldn’t talk about it so carelessly." You cross your arms. "Why not?"

"Because it’s dangerous." His voice is low, but edged with something raw. "Because it shouldn’t have happened."A slow smirk tugs at your lips. "But it did." Heeseung looks at you then—really looks at you. His expression flickers between frustration and something else, something that makes your breath hitch for just a fraction of a second. "Tell me," you continue, stepping closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Are you regretting it?" His lips part slightly, but no words come out. His fingers twitch at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for you. You tilt your head. "Or are you afraid of what it means?" His silence is answer enough. 

The tension in the library crackles like a storm on the verge of breaking. The dim candlelight flickers, casting shadows across the towering shelves and the ancient tomes lining them. Heeseung is still standing stiffly before you, arms crossed, jaw clenched—like if he lets himself relax for even a moment, everything will spiral out of control. “We can’t,” he says finally, his voice tight, like he’s forcing the words out. “If anyone caught us—if the king found out—we’d both be dead.” You let out a soft, amused laugh, tilting your head. “Is that what you’re so worried about?” You take a step closer, watching the way his body reacts—how his breath shortens, how his fingers flex. “Death?” His brows knit together. “It’s not funny.” 

“On the contrary,” you murmur, your voice teasing, edged with something darker. “It’s absolutely hilarious. The great Heeseung, right-hand to the king, reduced to a nervous wreck over a kiss and a quick fuck.” His eyes flash with irritation. “That’s not—” 

“Not what?” You’re in front of him now, close enough to catch the faint scent of steel and cedarwood clinging to him. “Not true?” He swallows hard but doesn’t move away, anyone could see that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He craved you and you were in no position to deny him of that satiation 

“We can’t keep doing this,” he grits out, though the way his gaze flickers to your lips betrays him. “It’s dangerous.” You hum, tilting your head, running your fingers down the front of his shirt like you’re smoothing out invisible creases. His breath catches. “Dangerous is what makes it exciting,” you whisper, fingers drifting lower, pressing lightly against his stomach. His muscles tense under your touch, like he’s fighting himself, fighting this, fighting you. “Stop,” he breathes, though he makes no move to actually stop you. 

You smirk. “You don’t want me to stop.” His hands clench at his sides, a war waging within him, but you know you’ve already won. You can feel it in the way his body leans ever so slightly toward yours, in the way his breath turns heavier. “Tell me to go,” you challenge, your voice softer now, but no less daring. “Tell me you don’t want this.” Silence. And suddenly, A sharp inhale, a flicker of something feral in his eyes. And then his hands are on you—gripping your waist, pulling you forward in one swift motion until your back is pressed against the bookshelf behind you. Your breath stutters just as his lips crash into yours, no hesitation this time, no careful restraint. It’s all heat and desperation, months of tension unraveling at once. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he’s making up for lost time, for all the times he’s told himself no when his body screamed yes. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, fingers pulling, dragging him impossibly closer. He groans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, sending heat pooling low in your stomach. You press up against him, feeling the way his body shudders at the contact. His fingers dig into your hips, bruising, possessive, like he’s trying to imprint himself onto you. It’s reckless. It’s foolish. And neither of you care. Too caught up on the feeling of one another to carefully consider what you could lose, only what you could gain. The library was quite save for the two of you. Your heavy breathing the only sound in the grand room. Heeseung’s hands gripped at your skirts much like he did the other night. 

He lifted them high enough to expose you. “I’ve been thinking about this pretty little pussy since the other night.” He grunted. “We don’t have enough time but I think I can take a little taste can’t i?” You were nodding before he could even get the words out, your head bobbing up and down in excitement. Pure unadulterated excitement. It was comical, almost pathetic but you didn't care, you needed him anyway you could get him. Heeseung fell to his knees, your skirts still tightly gripped in his hands. 

“I love when a man kneels to me.” You snicker, a laugh falling from your lips in a cascade. “Just a second ago you were pulling away, now look at you.” You were teasing with him, toying around with him. His small smile told you he didn't really seem to mind your teasing, if anything it fueled his desires for you. 

“I may be kneeling princess but soon you're going to be the one begging like a peasant.” He smirked up at you, the edges of his mouth slightly curved sexily. The heat simmerring in your belly only heightened your need for him and soon you were whining, lifting your hips to show him just how much you needed him to do just something, anything. “Don’t you worry.” He tsked “I’m going to take such good care of you.” 

Without another words his mouth was on you, his tongue lapping at you like no tomorrow. Your hands found purchase on his shoulder as you steadied yourself. “Oh my god.” You hissed, biting your lip to keep your noises at bay. Heeseung groaned against your core, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine and furthering the pleasure coursing through your veins. His hands found your hips gripping them tightly in his hands under your gown skirts. 

Your hands made their way from the bookshelf behind you down your own body until they reached your breasts cupping them in your hands for extra stimulant, Heeseung’s tongue explored every inch of your most sensitive bud sucking on it like his life depended on it. You tried your best to keep your noises at bay as you occasionally let a squeak and small moan out here and there. 

Heeseung continued to suck and lick at you, your end hearing like a freight train. “I-i’m almost-” You gasped, finding it hard to cough the words out. “I know.” Heeseung said smugly as he came up for air. Your legs shook, thankful for Heeseung’s hands holding you upright. If it weren't for that you would surely be a puddle of yourself on the floor before you. It took almost no time for your end to slam into you. A single squeak left your lips before you're clamping your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. Heeseung continues to work on you throughout your orgasm granting you a spectacular end. 

Heeseung let go of your thighs, straightening himself out as you caught your breath. Much like the garden the two of you only stared at each other in silence, not daring to utter even a single word. The silence was short lived as the sound of rustling outside the library tore the two of you apart, breaking the haze you were currently in. Luckily whoever was outside didn't feel the need to enter the library but the noise itself had Heeseung on edge. “We should get you to your chambers.” He mumbled, reaching a hand out for you to take. You stared at it for a moment as if it were a foreign object you had never seen before. You took his hand in yours letting him guide you out of the library doors.  

The candlelight flickers in Heeseung’s chambers, casting restless shadows against the stone walls. He lays on his back in bed, eyes trained on the ceiling, his body exhausted but his mind refusing to quiet. He knows what they’re doing is reckless. Stupid, even. He runs a hand down his face, trying to scrub away the memories of her—her scent, her warmth, the way she pressed against him in the library as if she knew exactly what kind of power she had over him. Heeseung has always prided himself on his discipline, on his control. But with her… He groans and turns onto his side, staring at the dying embers in the fireplace. His duty is to the kingdom. To the king. To law and order. If anyone found out about this—about them—there would be no mercy. No hesitation. The king would have his head on a spike, and hers—hers would be paraded through the streets as a warning. 

His stomach churns at the thought. But then, a far more dangerous thought slithers in, unbidden. What if they ran? The idea is so ridiculous he almost laughs. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t abandon his duty. But then he thinks of her again—of the fire in her eyes, of the way she moves like she belongs to no one but herself. She’s different. Not just from the princesses he’s known—meek, obedient, trained to be silent. No, she’s different from everyone. The way she speaks. The way she carries herself. The way she looks at him like she’s measuring him up, testing him, waiting to see what he’ll do next. The way she knows things—things she shouldn’t. A seed of suspicion takes root in his mind. 

What if she’s not who she says she is? He thinks of the whispers, the rumors in the castle, the king’s paranoia about witches. He thinks of the way the attack at the ball had no clear culprit, no weapon, no trace. And then he thinks of her—of the way she smiles to herself when she thinks no one is looking, like she’s keeping a secret the world isn’t ready for. No. Heeseung shakes his head, as if to physically push the thought away. He’s being ridiculous. She’s just… unpredictable. Stubborn. Impossible. But not a witch. He refuses to believe that. 

The next morning, the castle is alive with tension. Servants whisper behind cupped hands, guards double in numbers at every corridor, and the heavy clang of armor fills the halls. At breakfast, the king and queen stand before the court, their expressions grave. The king’s voice is sharp, cutting through the uneasy murmurs. "Until we discover the source of this treachery, the castle will remain under lockdown. No one leaves, no one enters without my explicit permission. Anyone found conspiring against the crown will be executed on sight." A chill runs through the room. Your grip tightens around your fork until your knuckles ache. Lockdown. The word presses against you like an iron cage, closing in. 

This means you're getting closer. The king is scared. He knows his time is running out. You just need one final way to get to him. But then, your mind betrays you. Because instead of the king, instead of strategy and bloodshed, instead of magic—your thoughts drift to him. Heeseung. You can feel his eyes on you, watching from across the room. Even now, you know he’s keeping track of your every move, shadowing your steps in silence. You remember the way his touch lingered, the way his lips felt against yours, the way he made you forget—just for a moment—who you are, what you are meant to do. And for one foolish, fleeting second, you let yourself wonder. What if things were different? What if you weren’t bound by revenge, by the weight of your mother’s legacy? What if you were just a girl, and he were just a boy? But you are not just a girl. And he is not just a boy. You shove the thoughts down, swallowing hard. You call yourself a fool for falling into something so dangerous, so impossible. For even considering the possibility of anything beyond this mission. You are here for one purpose. And soon, the king will be dead. 

The silence between you is louder than it has ever been as you walk to your rooms. The castle corridors stretch long and empty, the flickering torchlight casting your shadows against the cold stone walls. Each step echoes, the sound ringing in your ears, a cruel reminder that this night is slipping away too fast. Heeseung walks beside you, quiet as ever, his posture rigid with something unreadable. But you can feel it. The weight of the things left unsaid. The hesitation in the way he slows his pace just enough, like he’s not quite ready for this walk to end. Neither are you. And yet, the door to your chambers appears before you too soon. 

You stop. Heeseung does too, standing just a breath away, his gaze unreadable in the dim lighting. Your heart hammers against your ribs. It feels unbearable—this thing stretching between you. The knowledge that the moment you step inside this room, something will shift. You won’t be able to undo it. So you do the only thing you can. You grab his collar and pull him to you, crashing your lips against his. 

Heeseung tenses, his breath catching against your mouth. For a fraction of a second, he doesn’t move, stunned by your sudden desperation. Then, he breaks. His hands find your waist, gripping tight as he kisses you back with something raw, something close to ruin. It’s not soft, it’s not slow—it’s everything you’re both afraid to say. It’s everything you’re about to lose. our fingers tangle in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him, trying to pull him closer, closer, closer—because this is the last time. You feel it in the way his hands tremble against you, in the way his breath shudders when he pulls away just slightly, his forehead pressing to yours. "Wait—" he starts, his voice hoarse, hesitant, but you shake your head instantly, your grip tightening on his shirt. "Don’t—" your whisper barely makes it past your lips. Your eyes burn, your throat tight. "Please don’t say anything." 

Heeseung swallows thickly. His hands twitch at your waist before they slowly fall away. You take a step back. Then another and the distance feels unbearable. Your fingers ghost over the doorknob, hesitating for a fraction of a second before you turn it, stepping inside. You don’t dare look at him again. You can’t. The door closes between you with a soft, final click. You lean against it, pressing your forehead to the wood, your breath shaking as you squeeze your eyes shut. On the other side, you know he’s still there. You can feel him. Standing in the hallway, hands clenched into fists, fighting the same war you are. Seconds pass. Then minutes. And then—his footsteps, Slow. Hesitant. Fading. When he finally walks away, he takes a piece of you with him. And when you slide to the floor, pressing your trembling fingers to your lips, you wonder if you’ll ever get it back. You wonder if what you were doing was worth it, and you determine it is. This was bigger than you, bigger than what you felt for Heeseung and you had to continue no matter how much it hurt. 

You sit there for what feels like hours, your back pressed against the door, your fingers still tingling from the ghost of Heeseung’s touch. You curse yourself. How could you be so stupid? Falling in love with the captain of the guard—the king’s most loyal soldier. It was reckless. Dangerous. A mistake you never should have allowed to happen. You clench your fists against your dress, trying to push away the warmth still lingering on your skin from where his hands had been. But no matter how much you tell yourself it was foolish, your heart still aches. Because for a moment, just a moment, you had allowed yourself to feel. You shake your head, jaw tightening, because love just wasn’t enough. Love wasn’t enough to stop you, it couldn't be. Not when the weight of your mother’s death still sat heavy in your chest. Not when the memories of your people being hunted and slaughtered played over and over in your mind like a curse that would never leave you. 

The king needed to die and you needed to be the one to do it. If not for your mother, then for yourself. You push yourself up from the floor, shaking off the weakness trying to sink into your bones. You weren’t weak. You weren’t fragile. You were ruthless. A damn good witch. No matter what your aunt had said. No matter how the coven had doubted you. No matter how Heeseung had looked at you as if you were something to be protected, when all your life, you had fought to stand on your own. You move across the room, mind already calculating. You would need to act fast. The castle was locked down, but that meant the king’s guard would be scattered, spread thin. You could use that. You could use them. A smile, slow and sharp, spreads across your lips. No matter how much your heart screamed against it—no matter how much Heeseung’s face haunted you—you would not falter. Because this was your destiny and you would see it through to the end. 

Morning light filters through the grand windows of your chambers, casting golden streaks across the floor, but you don’t move from the edge of your bed. Your plan is set. You should feel ready. Steady. But instead, your hands won’t stop trembling. You press your palms against your lap, willing the weakness away. A knock sounds at your door. You know who it is before he speaks. “Princess.” Heeseung’s voice is firm, but there’s an underlying softness beneath it. “I brought you breakfast.” You force yourself to stand, moving with a measured slowness as you approach the door. You can’t afford to falter now. 

​​When you open it, he’s standing there, tray in hand, gaze unreadable. His dark eyes search yours for something—maybe a sign that you’re okay, maybe something more. You don’t give him anything. You reach for the tray, but before you can grab it, Heeseung’s foot moves forward, blocking the door from shutting in his face. You sigh sharply. “Move.” 

“No.” His eyes narrow, suspicion creeping into his voice. “You’ve been locked away all morning. What’s going on?” 

​​“Nothing.” You hiss, silently begging for him to just leave. Heeseung scoffs. “You expect me to believe that?” 

You glare at him. “Why do you care?” He steps inside before you can stop him, setting the tray on the nearby table. Then, without hesitation, he turns to you and takes your hands in his. You stiffen. “Let go.” He doesn’t. His grip is warm, steady—just like it was the night before when you tried to push him away. “Tell me the truth,” he says. “What’s wrong?” You grit your teeth. “I told you, nothing is—” 

“I don’t believe you.” You yank your hands away, stepping back. “Then you’re a fool.” Heeseung exhales sharply. “Maybe I am.” You scoff, crossing your arms. “Everything we did was a mistake.” Something flickers across his face, quick and sharp. Hurt. Good, it's better this way. You’ve been selfishly allowing yourself to fall in love with someone you can never truly have. You lift your chin higher, forcing yourself to deliver the final blow. “I used you, Heeseung. You were convenient. That’s all.” 

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t give you what you want. He just looks at you. It infuriates you. “You should be angry,” you snap. “You should hate me.” 

“I don’t.” He argues, his voice rough with unshed emotion. “Why not?” You asked. You were desperate for him to stop, to give up. But he doesn't. “Because I know you.” His voice is quiet now, but there’s an undeniable strength beneath it. “And I know you’re lying.” Your breath catches. 

Heeseung steps closer, gaze never wavering. “If you want to hurt me, you’ll have to do better than that.” You clench your fists. “I don’t care about you.” His lips twitch, and then he laughs.  Heeseung’s laugh was a melody you wished you could bottle and keep forever, in a tiny little vial tucked away to keep the memory of this moment and how you felt in it alive. Even if fleeting, it would be worth it. To remember that even when you wished he would give you up and leave, he wouldn’t. “You really expect me to believe that?” 

“Yes.” He just stares at you. Unmoved. Unyielding. And then he does something unexpected—he lifts a hand and gently cups your cheek. Your entire body locks up. His touch is careful, hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. But you don’t. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, voice dropping lower. “Tell me you feel nothing, and I’ll leave right now.” You swallow hard. The words are right there. You can say them. You should say them. But your throat closes up. Silence stretches between you. Heeseung exhales, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, but there’s no humor in it. Just quiet understanding. “You can lie all you want,” he murmurs. “But not to me.” His hand falls away. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until he steps back. “If you don’t want me here, say the word,” he says. “And I’ll go.” 

“Don’t go.” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, quiet but heavy with meaning. Heeseung freezes. His hand, which had been reaching for the door, stills. The tension in his shoulders tightens as he slowly turns back toward you, his dark eyes searching yours. He looks almost hesitant, like he’s bracing for something. He waits for you to take it back, for you to tell him he misheard. But you don’t do that, instead you stand there looking at him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. And maybe, for tonight, he is. 

Heeseung crosses the room in a heartbeat. His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch firm yet gentle, like he’s afraid you’ll shatter. And then his lips are on yours—hot, desperate, claiming. You kiss him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You can taste the longing, the fear, the hunger between you, and it terrifies you how much you need this. How much you need him. Clothes fall away, fingers trace over bare skin, mapping out the parts of you no one else has ever touched. His lips leave a burning trail along your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone. Every kiss feels like a promise neither of you can keep. This is different from the garden and the library. The emotions are stronger, the need more than just lust. He lays you down with a reverence that makes your chest ache, his body covering yours, warm and solid and real. And for a little while, just a little while, you allow yourself to forget. Forget why you’re here. Forget what you have to do. Forget that you’ll never get to have this again. Forget that, that thought scares you more than anything else. And when it’s over, when you’re lying in his arms, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the weight of reality crashes down on you. 

Tears slip from your eyes before you can stop them. Heeseung notices immediately. He shifts beside you, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. His fingers trace lightly over your cheek, catching a stray tear. “What’s wrong?” His voice is hoarse, gentle. You shake your head, forcing a small, unconvincing smile. “Nothing.” Cursing yourself for looking so brittle, so weak. His brow furrows, unconvinced. “You’re crying,” he says, brushing another tear away with his thumb. “That’s not nothing.” 

You inhale sharply, turning your head away. Because if you look at him—if you really look at him—you’ll break. You can’t afford to break. Heeseung shifts again, his body warm against yours. Then, out of nowhere, he says something that steals the air from your lungs. “Let’s leave.” Your breath catches in your throat. You turn your head back toward him, your lips parting in disbelief. “What?” 

“Let’s leave,” he repeats, his voice surer now. “Tonight. Right now. Just the two of us.” You sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest. “Heeseung, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Leaving would mean that coming here was for nothing. You couldn't do that, you needed to see this through for your mother. “Yes, I do.” He sits up too, his hands reaching for yours. “We can leave this place behind. Disappear. Go somewhere no one will find us. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Your heart clenches so hard it’s painful. He means it. He really means it, and you’re going to have to deny him. You can see it in his eyes, the unwavering sincerity, the quiet desperation. He’s not just saying it to comfort you. He truly believes you could run away, start over, be free. And for a fleeting moment, you want to believe it too. But you can’t. You squeeze your eyes shut. “You don’t know the real me, Heeseung.” He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh. That goddamn laugh. “Of course, I do.” 

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You don’t.” Heeseung lifts your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. His lips brush against your skin as he speaks. “I know that you hate being treated like you’re fragile. That you sneak out just because you can. That you act like you don’t care, but you do. More than anyone I’ve ever met.” His voice lowers, softer now. “I know you pretend to be heartless, but you’re not. You’re stubborn and reckless and the smartest person I’ve ever known.” Heeseung tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I know you,” he says. “And I love you.” Your breath shudders. 

Heeseung has no idea how much those words shatter you. Because for all the ways he knows you—for all the truths he’s uncovered—he’s still blind to the one that matters most. You swallow against the lump in your throat. “I can’t.” His brows draw together. “Can’t what?” You don’t answer. You can’t. He studies you for a long moment, realization flickering in his gaze. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” he says quietly. 

You close your eyes, gripping the sheets beneath you. Heeseung’s voice drops lower. “What is it?” Silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words. Then, finally, you whisper, “Please… just go.” The pain from the moment was unbearable. Having to turn him away when you didn't want to. When your heart screamed at you to pull him close and never let go. Pain flashes across his face. His jaw clenches, his throat bobbing with the effort to swallow whatever he wants to say. He stands, gathering his clothes in silence. You stay where you are, gripping the sheets, digging your nails into the fabric to keep from calling him back. Before he leaves, he pauses at the door. He turns his head just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.” Then he walks out. And this time, you let him go. 

Something was wrong. Heeseung could feel it. Being called to the King’s quarters almost immediately after returning to his rooms after his night with the princess. Something was wrong. Heeseung barely makes it to the king’s quarters before the weight in his chest starts to crush him. The halls are lined with guards, their grips tight on their weapons, their expressions grim. The air crackles with tension, heavy and suffocating. It feels like a noose tightening around his throat. He forces himself forward, each step heavier than the last. The moment he steps inside, he sees them. The King, the Queen And a group of high-ranking officials gathered around a long table, their faces drawn in grim lines. The candlelight flickers ominously, casting eerie shadows across the room. The doors slam shut behind him and Heeseung swears his heart in his stomach bile rising up his throat. 

“My king,” he greets, bowing his head. He was trying to be graceful, trying to mask the pure terror coursing through his veins. The king doesn’t acknowledge the gesture. Instead, he lifts his gaze, sharp and knowing, and says, “Captain. Tell me… what do you know about the princess?” Heeseung’s heart stutters in his chest. He swallows thickly, keeping his voice steady. “What do you mean, Your Majesty?” The king doesn’t answer right away, furthering Heeseung’s racing heart. Something was wrong. Instead, he picks up a folded parchment from the table. Heeseung notices the broken wax seal—an unfamiliar crest pressed into the dried crimson wax. “These letters,” the king begins, “have come from her kingdom.” His tone is measured, calm—but there’s something deadly lurking beneath the surface. “They have been arriving for weeks. All addressed to the princess.” 

Something cold curls in Heeseung’s stomach. “Then… why hasn’t she responded?” Heeseung asks carefully, forcing the words past his lips. “That is the question, isn’t it?” the king muses. Then he slams something onto the table. It’s a portrait. The parchment unfurls slightly from the impact, revealing a detailed oil painting of a young woman. Heeseung’s breath catches. It’s her. Or at least… it’s supposed to be. But it isn’t her. Not the woman he kissed. Not the woman he made love to. Not the woman he held in his arms. His stomach twists violently. The girl in the portrait has the same regal posture, the same air of nobility, the same crown resting atop her carefully styled hair. But the features are all wrong. The shape of her nose, the curve of her lips, the sharpness of her jawline—none of them belong to the woman he knows. 

The realization crashes into him like a blow to the chest. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head. “That’s not—” “Not the girl staying in our castle?” The King finishes, his lips curling into something almost amused. The room feels like it’s closing in. His lungs won’t fill properly. His ribs feel too tight, too constricted. His world is breaking apart piece by piece. How could she have lied so long? To everyone. To him? Is that what she meant when she said he didn't know the real her? The king leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the wooden armrest. “This is the real princess,” he says, voice laced with cruel amusement. “The one we were supposed to receive.” 

The blood in Heeseung’s veins turns to ice. His ears ring. His heart pounds so loudly it’s deafening. “She’s an imposter,” The King states plainly, his voice hard and unwavering. The Queen makes a disgusted noise. “Not just an imposter,” she sneers. “A witch.” The word slices through Heeseung like a blade toppling his world over. Shattering his entire being. A witch? No. It couldn't be. Something.is.wrong. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. 

“She’s been hunting me,” the king continues, his voice dripping with satisfaction, as if he’s already won. “Planning my execution under my very roof.” Heeseung wants to deny it. Wants to fight it. Wants to claim it’s impossible. But deep down, something inside him unravels. Because it is possible. It makes sense. The late-night disappearances. The questions she never answered. The flashes of power he felt but ignored. The way she always seemed to have a secret buried behind her eyes. The realization knocks the air from his lungs. He had suspected. He had wondered. But he never believed. Because believing would mean losing her. And now—Now, he has lost her. A sharp breath rattles through his chest. He forces himself to stay still, to keep his expression unreadable, to keep the pain from showing. But it’s there. It’s tearing him apart from the inside out.

He can still feel her touch, still taste her on his lips. Still hear the way her voice broke when she told him she couldn’t. She had known this moment was coming. That’s why she kissed him like it was the last time. That’s why she cried. She knew. And she let him love her anyway. “Find her,” the king commands, dragging Heeseung back to the present. “Search the castle. The kingdom. I want that witch’s head.” Heeseung stiffens. The words are an execution order. His pulse roars in his ears. He forces himself to bow, to keep his voice steady as he murmurs, “Yes, Your Majesty.” But his hands tremble as he clenches them into fists. Because for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to do. His loyalty is to the king. His duty is to the crown. But his heart— His heart belongs to her. And no matter how much he tries to bury it—no matter how much it kills him— It always will. Heeseung feels like he’s standing outside of his own body, watching the scene unfold as if it’s happening to someone else. The king’s voice slices through the thick silence. 

“The body that was found, dumped from the carriage that night…” He leans forward, his expression grave yet victorious, as if he’s piecing together a puzzle he’d been struggling with for too long. “It was her. The real princess.” A sick, suffocating weight crashes down on Heeseung’s chest. He remembers that night. The gruesome discovery. The way the body had been barely recognizable, left for the elements like discarded waste. At the time, they had assumed it was the work of bandits, of those who wanted to send a message to the crown. But it wasn’t. It was her. She had done it. She had killed the princess. Taken her place. Deceived them all. She had deceived him. Heeseung sways slightly, his grip tightening at his sides. 

​​“Captain.” His head jerks up at the king’s call. The king watches him carefully, expression unreadable, before he asks, “Do you have it on you?” For a moment, Heeseung doesn’t understand. Then the king clarifies. “The witch’s knife.” The words nearly send Heeseung to his knees. His fingers twitch at his belt, where the blade sits, unseen but ever-present—a weapon forged to cut through the magic that ran through the veins of people like her. He feels sick. Heeseung grits his teeth, schooling his expression into one of careful indifference. “Yes,” he says, forcing his voice to remain even. “I have it.” 

The king hums in approval. “Good,” he says. “Then it’s time to put it to use.” The words ring through Heeseung’s skull like a war drum. “Bring her to me,” the king orders. “I want that witch dragged before me in chains.” His gaze flickers to Heeseung’s belt, where the blade rests. “And you will be the one to strike her down.” The world tilts. Heeseung can hear his own breathing, shallow and uneven. He has killed before. It is his duty. His purpose. His role. But never like this. Never her. Never the only person who has ever made him feel. He forces himself to nod. It is the only response he can manage without his voice betraying him. The king smirks in satisfaction, leaning back in his chair. “Go,” he commands. “Find her.” Heeseung turns stiffly, barely hearing the murmurs of approval from the gathered officials, The Queen’s quiet mutter of disgust. He walks toward the doors, each step heavier than the last. His fingers brush against the hilt of the knife. The one meant for her. The woman he kissed. The woman he loved. His heart cracks wide open, but there is no time to bleed. Because the next time he sees her— He will have to kill her. Something was wrong. 

The air is thick with dampness, the scent of mold and stone clinging to your skin as you navigate the winding tunnels beneath the castle. Your heart pounds against your ribs, steady and strong, the only thing grounding you as you press forward. You don’t have much time. If everything goes according to plan, the king won’t see the next sunrise. The thought steadies you. You move like a shadow through the catacombs, tracing the steps you memorized, hands gliding along the rough walls. You can feel the pulse of magic thrumming in the stone, remnants of old spells woven into the foundations of the castle. If you close your eyes, you can almost hear whispers, ghosts of the past murmuring secrets only the dead could know. 

You shake off the feeling. There’s no room for hesitation. Not now. Your plan is simple—efficient. Slip into the king’s chambers through the passage hidden beneath the castle, snap his neck, and vanish before anyone can piece together what happened. No spells. No weapons. Just you. Just justice. The idea of feeling his life slip between your fingers, of watching the fear dawn in his eyes when he realizes his power can’t save him—it’s almost intoxicating. But then he flickers in your mind. Heeseung. For a single, damning moment, you think of the way he looked at you last night, the way his hands held you like you were something precious. How his voice had cracked when he told you he loved you. And how you said nothing in return. Your throat tightens, but you shove it down. Love is not enough to stop what must be done. You push forward. The tunnels twist and stretch before you, endless in their darkness, but you know exactly where you're going. The passage that leads into the king’s private chambers is ahead. You’re nearly there— Cold steel presses against your throat.

You stop. Your body tenses, every instinct in you screaming to move, to fight, but the blade is firm, unforgiving. A single wrong move could end it all before you even reach the king. You feel power coming from it. Radiating off of it. It stung like poison. Was this a witch killing knife? 

"Going somewhere?" The voice is low, familiar, and it guts you. Your pulse jumps. Slowly, carefully, you tilt your head just enough to see him. Heeseung. Oh god it was Heeseung. His face is carved from stone, eyes dark, unreadable. The knife in his hand does not waver. He looked destroyed, shattered against beyond repair. But he also looked angry, he knew. He knew who you were and even though that should scare you it didn't. You had oddly felt a sense of overwhelming relief. You weren't hiding from him anymore. Your breath comes slow, measured. “Move.”

He doesn’t. You try again, this time sharper, steel behind your words. “Move, Heeseung.” His grip tightens. “Tell me where you’re going.” His voice is quiet, but there’s something underneath it, something raw. A slow, careful inhale. “You already know.” There was no use in lying to him anymore. You refused to do it, you owed him that much at least. His jaw tenses. A muscle in his cheek jumps. But he doesn’t move the blade. The cold metal seeping into your skin stinging you and boiling your blood. A small part of you knew you deserved this. For lying to him for so long, for allowing yourself to fall in love with a man who you could never have. A man who would hate the person, the thing you truly were. He didn't know the real you. You had warned him. for the first time since you entered the tunnels, doubt creeps in. Not in your plan. Not in your abilities. But in him. Would he really stop you? Would he really— would he kill you? 

The reality hurt. You’d kill him if you had to, no matter how much you didn't want to. No matter how much it would hurt you, end you even. You'd do it. For your mother and her legacy you'd do what you had to do. It's what you came here for. “You don’t want to do this,” you whisper, softer this time. Heeseung exhales sharply through his nose. “Don’t I?” The words land like a blow. Your fingers twitch at your sides. You could use magic. Could throw him back, run before he can get up. But you don’t. Instead, you say, “I know you.” Heeseung flinches. Not visibly—no, no one else would notice—but you do. You see the slight hitch in his breath, the way his grip falters for just a moment. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper— “You don’t know me at all.” 

The words sink into your skin, cold and unrelenting. Your chest tightens. And for the first time— You wonder if you've already lost. No matter what happened in this tunnel you were losing. The blade at your throat is trembling. Not steady. Not certain. Not like Heeseung at all. His breath is ragged, uneven, as if the very air around him is too thick to swallow. His grip on the hilt of his knife is white-knuckled, his knuckles straining under the force of it, but it’s not just from anger. It’s something deeper—something fragile, teetering on the edge of breaking. 

“Is it true?” His voice is hoarse, almost quiet, but the weight of it crashes into you like a tidal wave. You don’t answer. You can’t. Not when you knew he already knew the answer. Vocalizing what he already knew would make it too real for him. You were a betrayer, a murder, a witch. His chest rises and falls too quickly, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. His fingers flex around the knife, and when you still don’t respond, something in him snaps. “Is it true?!” His voice cracks, raw and agonized, and it cuts through you like a blade sharper than the one at your throat. 

Your heart hammers against your ribs. Your mouth is dry. Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to meet his eyes—his desperate, frantic, broken eyes. You should lie. You should tell him no. You should take the last remnants of his belief in you and hold on to them—but it’s too late for that. The truth is already there, clawing its way out of you, forcing itself into the space between you. You can’t lie to him anymore. You wouldn’t. Your lips part. Your voice is barely a whisper. “…Yes.” The silence that follows is suffocating. Heeseung stares at you, wide-eyed, as if you’ve just struck him. His grip on the knife wavers, but he doesn’t lower it. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his gaze never leaving yours. He looks at you like he doesn’t know you. Like everything you were to him has just unraveled at his feet, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the ruin of whatever you were. “Why?” His voice is barely there, hoarse and hollow.

The lump in your throat grows, threatening to choke you. You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want to tell him. But there’s nothing left to hide. The weight of your past has already reached him, coiling around his throat just as it has yours. Your hands tremble, your nails digging into your palms, as you force yourself to speak. “He murdered my mother.” but he knew that already? Didn’t he? The words taste like ash on your tongue. You watch as Heeseung’s entire body goes rigid. His expression—pain, anger, disbelief—flickers for only a moment before he schools it into something unreadable, something distant. But you can still see it. The horror. The realization. The unbearable ache. Your voice wavers. “The king ordered her death. He butchered her, Heeseung.” You take a shaky breath, one that barely fills your lungs. “He tore her apart. Took her from me. My father too.” 

Heeseung doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. You take a step closer. He doesn’t retreat, but the hand holding the knife lowers—just slightly. “I was just a child,” you whisper. The words crack at the edges. “I had no one. My coven abandoned me. I had to make my own way in this world, and every single day, I have had to live with what he did.” Your breath shudders in your chest. Your eyes burn. “I was never going to be a princess, Heeseung.” There is no anger in your voice anymore. No rage. No fire. Just grief, raw and aching, an open wound that never healed Heeseung clenches his jaw so tightly that the muscles twitch, his hands trembling at his sides. His grip on the knife loosens. He looks at you like he’s trying to understand. Like he’s trying to see you through the haze of betrayal. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he whispers, “I’ll let you go.” Your stomach plummets. His gaze is pained, torn apart at the seams, but he holds it steady. 

“I’ll tell them I couldn’t find you.” His voice shakes. His lips press into a thin line as he swallows down something thick and heavy. “I’ll let you escape, just—” He takes a deep breath, ragged and uneven. “Just leave. Never come back.” Your heart pounds, hammering against your ribs with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. His hand twitches. His free hand almost reaches for you, but he stops himself, curling his fingers into a fist instead. “So I don’t have to hurt you,” he murmurs, voice breaking. His eyes flicker over your face, memorizing you. Holding on to the pieces of you he still recognizes. “Please.” You should take the offer. You should run. But you can’t. Not anymore. You were way too far in. You weren’t a quitter. You weren’t weak and you’d fight until your dying breath. Killing the King was the only option for you. Not running. You’d never run. Never. 

The silence between you stretches like a blade—thin, sharp, and deadly. Heeseung is still trembling, his breath unsteady, his fingers twitching as if he doesn’t know whether to reach for you or push you away. His body is tense, wound so tight it looks like it might snap under the weight of what you’ve done—of what you’re about to do. You can see the war raging behind his eyes. The part of him that wants to trust you. The part of him that still loves you. And the part of him that has been trained his whole life to protect his kingdom—to protect the king who raised him. He takes a step closer. The knife is still in his hand, but his grip is loose, uncertain. “One last time,” he says, voice cracking under the weight of it. “I’m begging you. Please. Just leave. Disappear. Run. I’ll make sure no one follows you. I’ll say you vanished into the night, that I searched and searched, but I couldn’t find you.” His voice wavers, but the desperation in his eyes is unwavering. “Please,” he begs again, quieter this time. He might as well be on his hands and knees. 

For a second you imagined a life where you agreed where you left and lived a hate free life. Where you lived a life not plagued by an unruly anger for the one who took your mother from you. How would it feel to hide away from the rest of the world and be content. Maybe in a small cabin, under the mountains. With Heeseung. Heeseung would be there. And you'd be married with so many children you could never be bored. That life wasn't possible. You’d be an idiot to have such fantasies because life was never fair. The ache in your chest is unbearable. You wish you could lie to him. You wish you could tell him what he wants to hear, just to take the anguish out of his voice. But you can’t. You take a shaky breath, trying to steady the storm inside you, but it’s impossible. “I can’t.” He flinches.

“I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you whisper, your throat thick with emotion. “I can’t leave. Not if he’s still alive.” His expression twists, pain flashing through his face like lightning across a stormy sky. His hands clench into fists, his whole body trembling, and for a moment, you think he might drop the knife. But he doesn’t. His jaw tightens. His breath shudders in his chest. “Why?” His voice is barely a whisper, but the agony in it cuts through you like a thousand knives. “Why is your revenge more important than your life?” You swallow hard, blinking back the tears burning in your eyes. “Because it’s all I have left.” The words hang in the air between you, suffocating. Heeseung stares at you, his face unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes—they are shattered, hollowed out by something deeper than just heartbreak. His grip on the knife tightens.

“My mother deserved better than to die screaming, being torn apart” you whisper, voice shaking. “She deserved justice. And if I don’t do this—if I let him live—then I am nothing. I will have nothing.” Heeseung’s face twists with something you can’t quite name. And then, in a voice so low and broken it barely reaches your ears, he murmurs, “And what about me?” Your breath catches. “What am I to you, then?” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Am I nothing?” The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, slipping silently down your cheeks. “You’re everything to me,” you choke out.

And it’s the truth. Heeseung’s face crumples. His shoulders shake. His entire body is wrecked with the weight of those words, of what they mean—of what they don’t mean. Because love isn’t enough. Not for you. Not for him. Your need to fight for your mother’s memory is stronger than the love blooming between you. And his duty—his oath—to protect his king is stronger than his love for you. It has to be. It has to be. Heeseung lets out a choked breath, somewhere between a sob and a broken laugh. He drags a hand through his hair, gripping at the strands like he’s trying to rip himself out of his own body, as if he can’t stand the weight of his own thoughts. “Tell me you hate me,” he whispers suddenly. You stiffen. “Tell me you used me.” His voice is thick, unsteady. “Tell me none of it meant anything, and I’ll—” He shakes his head, voice trembling. “I’ll let you go.” You squeeze your eyes shut. You could. You could say the words and make it easier for him. You could cut him open and make sure he never has to grieve you. You could turn him against you so he doesn’t have to hurt when this ends. But you’ve already hurt him enough.

You open your eyes, looking at the man who has made you question everything. The man who, against all odds, made you feel again. The man you love—but can never have. And you shake your head. “I won’t lie to you.” A tear slips down Heeseung’s cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away. And then, after a long, shuddering breath, he lifts the knife once more.Not trembling this time. Not uncertain. Because if love isn’t strong enough to stop either of you—then neither is hesitation. The dagger slides between your ribs, sinking into your flesh with a slow, devastating finality. The pain is instant—white-hot, searing, an agony unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. But what truly breaks you isn’t the blade. It isn’t even the poison, creeping through your veins like liquid fire. It’s the look in Heeseung’s eyes. So devastatingly beautiful. So, broken. You broke him, you are exactly who you’ve always been. A monster. And you were going to die the death you deserved, in the arms of the man you loved but by the hands of the man you loved. 

Tears stream down his face, his lips parted in silent devastation. His hands tremble as he lowers you gently to the ground, cradling you like you’re something fragile, like you aren’t already breaking apart in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, his voice barely more than a breath. He presses his forehead against yours, his body shaking with grief. “I had to. I—I didn’t have a choice.” You can feel the poison sinking its claws into you, stealing the strength from your limbs, making it harder to breathe. The world around you begins to blur at the edges, fading like a dream unraveling into nothing. You reach up with what little strength you have left, your fingers curling over his. He’s still holding the dagger, his grip tight like he can’t bear to let go. Blood spills between your fingers, warm and thick, but you don’t care. 

You squeeze his hand. “It’s okay,” you whisper, voice weak, shaking. “This was the only way to stop me.” And it was the truth. You would only give him the truth. Heeseung lets out a broken sound, something between a sob and a gasp. His other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you before you slip away. “I wouldn’t have stopped,” you confess, blinking through the haze clouding your vision. “You know that, don’t you?” You let out a sharp breath “Because-..because you know me.” You laugh a little, it's short and winded but it's a laugh and it was real. He nods, his shoulders heaving with every ragged breath. More tears slip down your face, mingling with the blood pooling beneath you. “You did the right thing.” 

Heeseung flinches, his grip on you tightening like he can somehow keep you here. “No,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.” his voice trembled, tears still falling from his eyes and down his cheeks. “But you did,” you insist, coughing as blood spills from your lips. You can taste the bitterness of it, the iron tang. “You did the right thing, Heeseung. I—I’m glad you did.” Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. The darkness is creeping closer now, curling around the edges of your vision, but you fight to keep your eyes open. Just for a little longer. Just to see him one last time. “I love you.” The words come out in a fragile whisper, but they are real. They are everything. A sob tears through him, raw and wrecked. He presses his lips to your forehead, his tears falling against your skin. “I love you too,” he breathes, voice shaking. 

You smile, just barely. And then your body stills. Heeseung feels it the moment you slip away. The last breath leaving your lungs. The way your fingers relax, the light in your eyes dimming until there’s nothing left but the hollow, empty silence. His heart shatters. A broken, strangled cry rips from his throat, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against him as if that will bring you back. His whole body shakes with grief, his face buried in your hair. The dagger is still in his hand. The blood is still warm. And the weight of what he has done—the weight of losing you—crushes him whole. 

Epilogue. 

Heeseung kneels before the king, head bowed, hands clenched so tightly at his sides that his nails threaten to pierce his skin. His face is carefully composed—stoic, unreadable—but inside, he is unraveling. “I failed, Your Majesty,” he says, voice low, heavy with carefully measured regret. “The witch is gone.” Silence falls over the throne room, thick and suffocating. The king’s fingers drum against the armrest of his gilded throne, his expression dark with fury. Heeseung does not flinch beneath his gaze, does not waver even as the weight of his own lie threatens to crush him. 

“Gone?” the king finally echoes, his tone sharp. “How?” Heeseung lifts his head slightly, just enough to meet the king’s eyes without betraying the storm of emotions raging inside him. “By the time we reached the catacombs, she had vanished without a trace. The guards and I searched the tunnels, the corridors, the perimeter of the castle. There was no sign of her.” The queen scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. “And you expect us to believe that a single witch, after all the effort she put into infiltrating our home, simply decided to flee?” 

Heeseung forces himself to nod, his jaw tightening. “Yes, Your Majesty.” The king exhales sharply through his nose, his displeasure clear. He shifts in his seat, fingers stilling against the polished wood of his throne. “No trace at all?”

“No.” The lie tastes like ash on Heeseung’s tongue. The king curses under his breath before waving a dismissive hand. “Find her.” Heeseung bows his head again. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He doesn’t wait to be dismissed. He knows the conversation is over. The king is furious, but he believes him. Or, at the very least, he has no choice but to. Heeseung turns on his heel and strides out of the throne room, keeping his shoulders squared and his pace steady. Every step feels heavier than the last. Because the truth is buried deep beneath his feet. 

-

The forest is quiet, the only sounds are the whisper of the wind through the trees and the distant calls of night creatures stirring from their slumber. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting silver light over the clearing. Heeseung stands at the edge of the earth he has disturbed, his breath unsteady as he looks down at the freshly turned soil. This was where the king had left her mother to rot. A shallow grave in an unmarked place. Forgotten, discarded like she was nothing. Heeseung couldn’t give her justice. He couldn’t save her. But he could give her this. He had carried her here himself, long after the dagger had stolen the last warmth from her body. He had cleaned the blood from her skin, brushed the hair from her face, whispered apologies that she would never hear. And then, with shaking hands, he had laid her to rest beside her mother. Not in an unmarked grave. Not forgotten. He had carved a name into the wood he placed at the head of the mound of earth. Not the name of the princess she had stolen, not the lie she had lived. Her true name.

The name that had been taken from her the night the king slaughtered her mother. Heeseung takes a shaky breath, sinking to his knees beside her grave. He presses a hand to the cold ground, his vision blurring. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words barely a breath. The wind moves through the trees, rustling the leaves like a sigh. Heeseung closes his eyes. For the first time in his life, he wishes he had never been born in this kingdom. That he had never sworn an oath to the king, never pledged his loyalty to a crown soaked in the blood of innocents. For the first time in his life, he wishes he had been brave enough to run away with her. But there are no second chances. No rewinding time. So he sits in silence, keeping vigil over the woman he loved, mourning the life they never got to have. And when the sun begins to rise, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Heeseung finally forces himself to stand. He does not say goodbye. Because he knows he will return. Because he knows he will never stop loving her. Because even in death, she is the only truth he has ever known. 

taglist. (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4

[thasorns-moved]

—  Sappho

[crimeronan]

thinking about the canon selves meeting their princess AU selves again. the current thought is canon hunter talking to princess/empress luz which i don't think i've ever properly considered before but it's very funny and sweet and just a little awful. canon hunter like "listen.... if he grew up protecting and guarding YOU then i'm POSITIVE his life was better than mine. sorry it came at the cost of yours sucking shit though" and empress luz is like "BELOS ABUSED HIM??? FOR OUR ENTIRE LIVES???" while hunter's like ".....SO??? HE DOES THAT IN EVERY TIMELINE??"

[xylatox]

Dark Water | cbg

I've made it!! I've been excited to read this one too, I've read Jjae's work before (Strawberry Land Event) ( I literally only just realized but I'll talk more about that after lol), but I'm so excited to read more of your work!!

The rules were easy to follow, really. Simple, concise. Don't swim through bubble rings, keep a spare bag of shells in case of emergency, and stay far away from the drop-off point. — the beginning is already amazing. It already creates thus suspense that has you uneasy but also filled with wonder yknow.

You leaned back on your elbows, pearlescent tail absently flicking ahead of you being the only thing that could give away your position. The long, gossamer-like fins tapered into pretty, elegant points. Delicate. That was a good way to describe you. Though, you supposed your given title was a bit more apt than you'd like to admit. — the descriptions?? immaculate.

The way reader is the Pearl of the Sea, a title that clearly has a weight to it and ironically feeds into the temptation? I love it.

To be your own thing, your own merman, free from your peoples watchful eye, from your father’s. — I love when characters have parental issues, because it becomes such a driving force plot wise.

Your brow creased as you read further on, eager for the context behind the title, The Banishment of the Dark Cecaelia.  — the title??? how do you come up with this omg.

I am such a loser when the theme of cannibalism comes up. Like whether it's literal cannibalism or used as an expression of love, it absolutely drives me insane.

Oh? That gave you pause. This was the first time you had heard someone speak of the Dark Cecaelia in such a manner. Was that… thirst you detected in that woman's tone? How peculiar. — oh this has me giggly

THE LITTLE ONE NICKNAME????? WHAT IF I DIED.

“You could say that.” Fuck. Right. Of course. Who else were you expecting it to be? Perhaps you were hoping for it to be a younger merman, playing pranks on passerbys. How unfortunately wrong you were. — I love how intense this feels

I love that Gyu is misunderstood when referencing the scrolls, like it makes you wonder more about his kind.

Hehe Gyus entire reveal! I'm absolutely obsessed with the tension between them.

“Easy, pretty. Easy.” A hand gripped your chin gently, much more gently than you could have ever expected, and guided you to look into his eyes. Gods those eyes, you could get lost in them forever, fall and fall and fall and never escape their depths. Your body immediately relaxed upon the eye contact, turning as soft as kelp in his hold. — what if I go insane and die.

“You will disappoint me no longer. You will become King someday, and I will be damned if I let childish rebellion be the end of our powerful kingdom. Leave me.” Your father waved his wrist, not even sparing you a glance. — shitty dads always annoy me, it hurts that despite all that, reader continues to yearn for his approval.

Suckers pulled at your skin, leaving angry red blooms across your soft skin, and it fucking burned. Gone were the sure, strong touches you were yearning for, all was replaced by the way this cecaelia seemed to want to rip you to shreds.  — this is insane???? the way reader is literally fighting for his life, insane.

“You are not like your father.” He spoke with finality, like he was unsure of the truth of the statement before, like you had just proved him wrong. Perhaps you had. Perhaps he saw you differently, now. The thought should make you preen, but it only served to make you glower, anger slowly simmering back to life. — despite the literal hell readee went through, I love that Gyu just wants reader to fight, it's kind of sweet.

“Once we are home, I will tell you,” He soothed, like he was speaking to a fussy infant. The implication of his tone made your ears warm. Home? He must have seen your expression at the word, and your subsequent confusion over it, but he made no move to clarify. As far as he was concerned, it seemed his home was now yours. Maybe that was enough for now, your thoughts grew too muddled to properly sort them, so you succumbed to the urge to return to the safety of his neck. — this is absolutely insane??????

Reader finally learned Gyus name :((( I'm so fucking soft rn, the way they're together?? obsessed.

“My pearl,” He replied in kind, delicately cupping your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He had that soft, awed look on his face again that made you feel wholly wanted, wholly desired. You sighed against his palm, leaning into it to press a kiss to the skin closest to your lips. “If you do this, you can never go back. You know this, right?”— god I love their dynamic and relationship so much what the fuck.

They got their happy ending :((( I'm so glad reader took control of his life and is happy. Jjae!!! this was a wonderful read! I had the pleasure of reading your fic for the Strawberry Event, back when I started to become active and it was literally the most insane thing I read like???? it was so good??? (i was also slow as fuck (i skip most warnings ngl) and i didnt even realize you wrote a male!reader but youre so fucking cool for that??)your writing is so intense and insane I absolutely love it. I'm so glad I got to read another one of your works!

Dark Water.

pairing; cecaelia!beomgyu × merman!reader

genre; horror/thriller (??? I think??? theres a lot of tension.) Suggestive, no explicit smut. Hint of fluff.

warnings; lots of tension, implied/referenced sexual content, light petting, this is basically 90% foreplay and tension, mentions of cannibalism, blood and injury, reader gets attacked yk the vibes, character death (but not main!!!), older gyu/younger reader vibes, merman/kingdom au.

synopsis; The rules were easy to follow, really. Simple, concise. Don't swim through bubble circles, keep a spare bag of shells in case of emergency, and stay far away from the drop off point. ― The Pearl of the Sea, you were called. A pretty little prince, beloved by all within the city. You followed the rules. Plans had been made for your whole life, all you had to do was stick to it.

Beomgyu was never part of those plans.

wc; 10,847 (oof... longest fic to date.)

jjaes comments; *slaps roof of fic* this bad boy can fit so much unnecessary lore in it. sorry theres no smut in this one. I want to eventually circle back and turn this into a full blown chaptered fic. in the words of serene, kills myself.

[m.list] [event m.list]

The rules were easy to follow, really. Simple, concise. Don't swim through bubble rings, keep a spare bag of shells in case of emergency, and stay far away from the drop-off point. 

The drop-off point which was, funnily enough, immediately before you. You lounged on a soft bed of seagrass, your short platinum hair floating along to the whims of the warm current around you. You were decently tucked away from view, having found a small alcove just off the main seagrass plains. You leaned back on your elbows, pearlescent tail absently flicking ahead of you being the only thing that could give away your position. The long, gossamer-like fins tapered into pretty, elegant points. Delicate. That was a good way to describe you. Though, you supposed your given title was a bit more apt than you'd like to admit.

The Pearl of the Sea, you were called. A pretty little prince, beloved by all within the city’s gleaming mother-of-pearl walls. You were a treasure among treasures, the only son of the Iron King sat upon the gleaming throne of the sea. Your father had a commanding presence, far more than your own, but you didn't seem to mind that. No, a pretty little thing like yourself was occupied with little else than keeping your head down and getting your work done perfectly. You held perfect grades, you were the shining smile present at every charity event, a giver to the people who fawned over you. That favour seemed to compound when you remained oblivious to it, a humble, delicate thing. 

Who was currently breaking one of the most serious rules you had ever been given. It wasn’t even your idea, something had called you here. Perhaps not vocally, but there was a siren song around this forbidden area. How could something so beautiful be so condemned? So after a particularly stressful day of studying and volunteer work, you finally gave in to the sweet temptation. 

The sight wasn't as captivating as you expected it to be. Sure, the overlook to the deeper waters, far more dangerous than the shallows you've spent your life in, were fascinating. You witnessed aquatic life, both plant and animal, in a way you had never taken the time to do before. Just observing, watching the way natural life unfolds when it is too far from your fathers influence to be contained. 

Though, after the sun's rays began to turn the surrounding water to honey hues, you had begun to grow bored with just observing. Part of you longed to know what it felt like, even for a moment, to be away. To be your own thing, your own merman, free from your peoples watchful eye, from your father’s. 

Oh, gods. What would he think if he knew you were here, now? He would surely be angry, surely would demand an answer that you didn’t have. Why did you come out here, anyway? You weren’t entirely sure yourself. You glanced up to the water's surface, the sunset refracting through the gentle waves and bathing you in the gentle warmth of the last light of day. Your eyes slid shut for a moment, basking in the peace. You had to savour moments like these, stolen seconds that you kept close to your heart when the stress of your structured life got too rough to handle. 

With a sigh, a pretty trail of bubbles spilling past your lips, you pushed off of the seagrass, the blades tickling your fingers as they dug into the silt below for leverage. 

You left a gentle cloud of disturbed sand in your wake as you made to leave, casting one longing glance over your shoulder to the group of young flounders playing beyond the drop-off point. You’ll have to return soon, if not to be sure they remained unharmed. That was a noble enough cause for return, right? Something your father would be slightly more hesitant to deny you if you brought it up as defence, surely. 

Content with the newfound addition to your schedule, a strong flick of your tail helped carry you closer and closer to home. 

–

The scroll room was a quiet place, compared to the hustle and bustle of the city just outside its walls. Shelves upon shelves, chests on chests were overflowing with information ripe for the picking, and you were a near permanent fixture here. Small and eager, tucked between shelving units as you delved into another scroll. This was a more recent historical account, it seemed, from the first years after your birth. You could hardly be expected to remember much from that time, your memories being mostly of your mother and the gentle tingle of your favourite shell toy.

You had no idea those years were so.. Dangerous. 

Your brow creased as you read further on, eager for the context behind the title, The Banishment of the Dark Cecaelia. 

Cecaelia? That rang a bell. Octopus mermaids, you recalled. Fearsome chimera not too unlike your own people in appearance, but worlds apart in behaviour. You recall bedtime stories about the drop-off point, lessons hidden in rhyme of the dangers that awaited those who ventured too far into the deep water. But what dangers were you warned of? You struggled to remember. 

The cecaeliae were once a proud people, fearsome in both behaviour and sheer number. They populated every inch of our kingdom, they ran shops, held office not unlike the rest of us do. But there was always something different, something darker in nature about these chimera, that we civilized mermaids simply could not abide by.

The issues came to a head during the Great Famine. Food was scarce, resources were far scarcer. Mermen, women and children alike were floundering in hunger, and the kingdom fell into despair. Our great King was working tirelessly, attempting to solve our issue. Our top scientists blamed the issue upon overpopulation and the rising water temperatures, both of which we could do little about.

But the Dark Cecaelia had a plan. He held high office, the King's right hand in both peace and wartime, and he claimed to have devised a solution to our problem. Something he claimed would reduce our numbers in a controlled way, and would solve our hunger problems simultaneously. 

Your eyes widened upon the sight of the next word. 

Cannibalism. 

No, that couldn’t be. Sure, mermen were omnivorous, capable of eating a wide variety of foods, but.. turning to cannibalism seemed too barbaric. Too uncivilized. Apparently, this Dark Cecaelia held no such opinions. Now that you think about it, were cecaeliae omnivorous like other chimeras? Octopi were carnivores… So did that imply that cecaeliae followed by the same rules? You shuddered at the thought of sharp teeth and venom.

He sought an audience with the King, and brought before him a properly devised plan. Down to the smallest detail, the way they would select the expendable and feast on their flesh, using cecaelia venom to minimize the agony of the selected. “Humane” methods, he claimed. The court was horrified at the extent to which this plan had been drawn to. In a fit of righteous rage, the King demanded how the Dark Cecaelia could have drawn up this horrific solution on such short notice, to which he shrugged, claiming it was the most logical and obvious solution to our societies' issues.  

The senate convened, terrified that if they denied the Dark Cecaelia his plan, that it would come to fruition in the form of a coup. The decision to banish all Cecaelia from the kingdom was immediate and unanimous. The Dark Cecaelia himself was brought before his kin and his hair was cut in a ceremonial message of disgrace before he, too, was banished to the deep water beyond the drop-off point for the rest of time. 

You snapped the scroll shut with shaking hands, eyes wild with fear. The drop-off point. The place you were lounging by with ease, the tips of your fin teasing over the edge of the cliff… The thought made you sick to your stomach. You could have been seen by your father, sure, but the thought of being seen by the Dark Cecaelia himself brought shivers down your delicate spine. How could you have relaxed there so flippantly, ignorant of the dangers lurking just below you, just out of sight? You could never return. That much, you were sure of.

–

“Did you hear?” 

“...Another sighting…”

You sighed loudly, bubbles tickling your cheek as they dissipated around you. News traveled fast, it seemed. There were more rumors now than ever before, though you paid no mind to it, preferring to stay in the comfort of your study material. 

“I heard the tentacles were blacker than any squid ink…”

“I heard they are as big as your forearm..! How terrifying…”

You’ve been reading the same line over and over for the past 5 minutes, the words failing to leave any lasting impression on your brain. It had been well over a full moon-cycle since you found yourself at the drop-off point, and apparently there had shortly thereafter been a poor merman who supposedly saw tentacles retreating into the inky blackness of the deep water. You had heard all the salacious (hyperbolic, too, no doubt) details, causing you to heave a bubbled sigh and continue with your work. You had more important things to do than to entertain such stories. You still feared the Dark Cecaelia, that much was true, but you began to grow apprehensive of the public’s view of him. They spoke of him as a legend, as a fable, treating him like he was merely a story instead of a recent blight within the kingdom. It had been 19 years since his removal from society, why were your people so confident about his absence to speak of him so freely? 

“Oh! And I heard–” 

You snapped your scroll shut, hands pressing palm-down onto the driftwood table before you. Your eyebrows pinched together in frustration, eyes squeezed shut to drown out the passerby’s comments. 

“I heard he’s hot. Devastatingly so.” 

Oh? That gave you pause. This was the first time you had heard someone speak of the Dark Cecaelia in such a manner. Was that… thirst you detected in that woman's tone? How peculiar. 

You shook the thoughts from your head. No, that was a most improper train of thought. You needed to focus, and this scroll room seemed to have no peace left to give you. With a delicate huff, you gathered your things and fled the room.

–

It seemed nowhere was safe from the mumbles about the Dark Cecaelia. The whole city– the whole Kingdom, it seemed– had heard of the recent supposed sighting. The comments within the city walls ranged from abject horror to… other topics. You don’t think you could stomach hearing another theory about what those tentacles could do. 

You had fled the Kingdom’s walls with no destination in mind. You only knew you needed to get out of there, to finally find some peace to continue your studies. If you were going to rule one day, you had to be perfect– there was simply no room for error. 

Though, perhaps you spoke too soon. You, in your panicked fleeing, had managed to get lost. Horrifically so. You were still in the shallows, it seemed, but night was approaching fast and you had no idea which direction home was in. Your heartbeat quickened to a dangerous pattering, fast and dangerous like the sound of a storm cloud emptying over the sea. Your head spun. How were you going to get home?

You pressed your shaking hands into fists, attempting to use the pressure to ground yourself. It seemed to work… Perhaps your studies about keeping your head under pressure like your father was paying off. You had half a mind to thank your tutor when you got home. When, yes. Not if. You’d make sure of it. What was it your father said to do when you got lost as a guppy? Breathe. Take stock of your surroundings.

You closed your eyes for a moment, the fading light of day still reaching beyond your closed eyelids. You sucked in a cool lungful of saltwater, letting the feeling wash over you before you opened your eyes slowly. 

Adjusting to the light, you slowly began focusing on the open shallows around you. The seagrass was sparse here, but you dont think youve ever seen such a large grouping of coral before in your life. There was all matter of aquatic life surrounding the reef, anemones and small schools of fish swimming about, playing together. The sight reminded you of the flounders at the drop-off point. You wondered if they were still safe, still playing just beyond your reach. 

Your eyes turned to the sections of kelp, swaying in the sea current and stretching up to the water’s surface. The current was moving west, you noted. Might be helpful to remember should you choose to follow it to see where it leads. Hopefully home.

When you glanced up to the water's surface, you could just barely make out the beginnings of stars in the dark expanse above it. What was it the scrolled called it? The sky? That sounded about right. A place where water floated in light groupings called “clouds” and sprayed their weight back into the sea where it belonged. You felt quite like the water in those clouds now, actually, far from where you belonged. That was when you heard it. 

You could almost convince yourself that it was a trick of the ears, but the deep gurgling behind you made the repetitive motion of your tail still. Something was behind you, something big. You didn’t want to turn around. Here you were, all alone, so far from home that you didn’t even know where you were, but–

The gurgling changed. It sounded repetitive, mirthful. A laugh? So it wasn’t a something but rather a someone. You weren't sure which was worse, really. A rogue sea creature or a sentient being. But the area around you appeared barren save for the small sealife. Who would even live out here? Who could?

“Little one.”

You bristled at the tone. The voice was deep. It rolled over you like too-warm water, thick and heady. You didn’t dare turn towards it.

“Lost?” 

The words seemed stunted, like they were coming from lips that were unsure of their form. This stranger couldn’t have been from the kingdom. Or, if they were– your brain supplied– they hadn’t been there in a very long time. 

“No,” Was your eloquent reply. You were hoping you sounded sure of yourself, like a future king. Like your father. The words fell flat, shaky and hesitant, betraying your nerves. The gurgling laughter began again with gusto.

“No? You seem lost. Frightened?” The voice sounded amused, like an angler toying with its food. The comparison made you uneasy. You were top of the food-chain, here. You should act like it.

With your shoulders squared, face set in a carefully blank expression, you finally turned.

Only to be met with nothing. Were you imagining the voice? Were you hallucinating? You had to be. You turned around, looking left and right–

Oh. To your right, just far enough away that it wasn't noticeable at first glance, was the drop-off point. The jagged cliff edge was unmistakable now that you saw it. Your shoulders did not lose any tension upon the new knowledge, though you were glad to be in a familiar place. Home wasn’t that far away.

But then the situation clicked in your head. The unfamiliar cadence of a voice unused to speaking in the common tongue, the location, the laughter.

“Are you the Dark Cecaelia?” You were unable to stop the words from tumbling from your lips in a rush of bubbles. You had half a mind to slap your hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from endangering yourself further. What were you doing?

The laughter came again, deep, guttural, twisted. You swallowed thickly, flicking your tail to back away slightly. You couldn't see over the edge, you were too far away. But even that distance seemed too little. Too close.

“You could say that.” Fuck. Right. Of course. Who else were you expecting it to be? Perhaps you were hoping for it to be a younger merman, playing pranks on passerbys. How unfortunately wrong you were.

“You were here before,” The voice continued, unperturbed by your fearful silence. You felt your blood run cold, like polar water had been dunked over your unsuspecting head.

“..You saw me.” It shouldn’t be surprising. Of course he saw you. Why wouldn’t he? If this is where he was banished to, why wouldn’t he see you lounging prettily at his doorstep? The idea that this faceless evil had been watching you from afar, while you sat unsuspecting, made you suddenly want to cry. 

“I saw you.” The cecaelia confirmed. He sounded much too amused for your taste, causing your brows to crease in frustration, lips drawing into a pretty pout.

“Why can’t I see you?” The unknown was too scary. It left your imagination to run wild, piecing together all the little rumors you tried to ignore upon first listen. They all came to you now. Ink-black, large tentacles, sharp teeth, venom, deep voice. You couldn't even begin to picture his face, what the rest of him looked like. Perhaps knowing, having concrete evidence of his appearance would vanquish the worst of your fear. You were skilled enough in combat, could probably flee with relative ease should this turn sour, but something was rooting you to the spot. Something deeper than fear, something stronger. 

Curiosity. The need for knowledge, the desire to know everything. It held you fast in your spot, unable to hide behind anything. You were in the open, with nowhere to run but away, as fast as your fins could take you. 

“Why do you want to?” That was a fair question. Why did you ask that of him? Why couldn’t you keep your curiosity to yourself? Why couldn’t you be stronger, fearless– …Like your father. Why couldn’t you be like him? What would he do now? You paused for a moment, considering your options. Running like a coward was lower on your list than ever, unwilling to experience the shame of such an act, lest your father find out. That only left confidence, something that was failing you presently. You cleared your throat, hoping it would find you now.

“Because it is impolite to not look one in the eyes when speaking. We are speaking, no? Why do you hide?” Fuck. Now you’ve done it. Directly confronting the Dark Cecaelia himself, taunting him to reveal himself when he was already being kind enough to spare you the terror of beholding him. Why did you want that confidence, again? It seeped from your body like blood from a wound. Could he smell blood? …Could he smell fear?

“Politeness is useless out here.” His voice still held the air of amusement you detected previously. That was good. You hadn’t made him angry just yet. However, his reply only brought about more questions. If the customs of your home were null and void out here, just beyond the kingdom’s reach, what did matter? How should you conduct yourself? You were used to rules, your whole life was planned before you. How should one behave in a vacuum of that security, without that safety net to fall back on? Your confusion must have been clear as day upon your face.

“Power is what matters. Survival. Base instincts.” He sounded closer, yet you still couldn't see him. He must be lingering somewhere nearby, taunting you. You felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity burning your scales like scalding seawater from a thermal vent. Where was he?

“Power, of which you have none.” His words cut you deep, a painful laceration to remind you of your place, here. You had nothing. You were at his mercy, and apparently he thought it imperative to remind you of it, to let the knowledge of your own helplessness seep into your body like venom.

“Power? I–” You hesitated. He was right, you were essentially powerless. This was, in fact, his home, his domain. You were the stranger here. Even more worrisome was the fact that while you were skilled in combat, you had never fought a cecaelia. All of those extra, powerful limbs.. Realistically, what could you do in the face of that? He was entirely correct. That gurgling laughter bubbled up again. It didn’t matter what direction you turned in, it felt like he was surrounding you. He was close, and it was making your heart race to know that you wouldn’t even see him coming should he attack.

“Name.” It wasn’t a request. He did warn you, you supposed. There were no formalities out here. No societal niceties where there was no society to begin with. Your hands trembled at your side as you clenched them into fists. Somehow, you could feel his gaze dip to watch the movement. 

The second your name fell from your lips, you could sense a shift. Something darker, much more dangerous swirled in the water around you. You had the gnawing feeling that you had just made a critical error. The laughter reached a fever pitch, near hysterical in its glee. 

“The King’s son.”

You nodded in affirmation, the movement jerky and hesitant. Your tail twitched with the desire to flee, but the weight of that gaze kept you pinned. 

“Come to the cliff edge.” Another command. From his reaction to your name, you knew better than to try anything. He seemed on edge, now. Like a predator rearing back slowly, preparing to strike. You’ve never felt more like prey in your life, shivers licking up and down your spine and making your tail tremble as a result. That same shaking tail that carried you closer to what you could only assume was an attack. 

But no attack came. You peered over the edge slowly, big eyes wide so as to not miss a single movement in the water below. What your gaze caught on, however, was that same school of flounders you had seen before. They were playing again, tumbling around each other happily. Your eyes caught on something else floating around them, something you slowly began to recognise as fish food. You had a shell-full of it at home to feed your own pets–

Pets. 

These flounders were pets. His pets.

“You like them. You watched them play.” He was definitely watching you the entire time you were here last. But if he was right there watching you, why…?

“Why didn’t you come out last time?” You had to know. None of it made sense. Why wasn’t he attacking? Why did he not attack last time, either? Why was he so content to just sit and watch?

“Pretty,” was his simple reply. As if it was obvious, as if you were stupid for not figuring it out. Pretty..? Sure, you were familiar with the term, were used to it being used to refer to you. But like this? From his mouth, the word coated in that thick accent– it felt different. 

It felt good.

“That doesn’t–” You stumbled over your words, pink heat kissing the apples of your cheeks. “That doesn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you come out?” You felt a bit like a child right now. Petulant. Demanding. You normally never acted like this, like a whiny brat seeking attention, but the very idea that he was right here and chose to stay hidden and watch just rubbed you the wrong way. He should face you. He should watch you where you could s–

Oh. That’s a new thought. You wanted him to watch you, you didn’t want him to stop. What’s worse is you seemed to want to watch him watch you. Gods, what was happening to you? 

“I do not owe you an answer, little one. Do you need to be reminded again?” Heat continued to flush your cheeks, spreading down your chest and up to the tips of your ears. You burned with embarrassment, yet you still had half a mind to smack your tail against the silt out of childish frustration. Tears pricked your eyes, becoming one with the water around you.

“But, I–”

“But nothing. If there is something you want, you must say it with confidence. Anything less will get you killed out here.” He didn’t sound angry. On the contrary, he almost sounded amused, as if he was gently scolding a confused guppy. The feeling made your stomach turn in a way you were unfamiliar with. “The others are not nearly as kind as I am.”

Others. You had entirely forgotten that there was a whole group of cecaeliae out here, waiting to exact their revenge on the child of the King directly responsible for their exile. But that begs the question…

“Why are you so kind? The scrolls paint you as a heartless monster…” You trailed off, belatedly realising what you had just admitted. You had actively sought out information on him, you just admitted to wanting to know more. That knowledge was dangerous. 

“Why am I not what the scrolls say I am?” He finished for you, no doubt watching you closely when you nodded in affirmation. He paused for a moment, the contemplative silence stretching between the two of you. You ached to see him, to see what he looked like when he was so deep in thought, mulling over his next words with careful consideration. “Why are you not like your father?” 

Answering a question with another question? Classic deflection. The bratty guppy within you reared its ugly head again, this time you did not act quickly enough to tamp down the urge to show your frustration. An irritated groan spilled from you before you could stop it.

“Reveal yourself! I grow tired of this. Let me see you.” You whined, high and needy. You couldn’t control it. Everything this cecaelia said and did pulled these impulses up to the surface, coaxing your worst behaviours out of you with ease. He seemed to have greater control of you than you expected. 

“Hm.” He said nothing more. Silence stretched once again, but there was no contemplation, only stillness. As the seconds swam leisurely by, your anxiety only grew. How badly you wished to eat your words, to fix it, to hide those bitter impulses and bury them where they belonged. 

A hint of movement. Your eyes snapped to it immediately, catching the barest wisp of something in the depths. A tentacle, large and terrifying, slipped just out of view. Your breath hitched in your throat. 

There was another. Then another. You watched them as they squirmed and shifted in the dark water below the cliff, eyes following their lengths to where you hoped he would be. Up, up, up, your eyes followed until–

Eyes. Sharp, piercing, beautiful. Pretty lips and sharp teeth below a sculpted nose, stretched into a carnal grin.

“Thank you, pearl.” Oh, watching his mouth form the words, watching them fall from his lips like a bubble fountain. Gods, all the rumors were right, yet simultaneously did not do him justice. He was stunning, captivating in every possible way. He was so beautiful it was disarming, enough to distract you from just how sharp those teeth really were. No, you were too focused on the pink tongue that darted out to slide along their jagged points. 

Thank you..? Fuck. You said that out loud? You hadn’t been keeping track of yourself since you locked eyes with the Dark Cecaelia. You were much too entranced.

By the time you snapped out of it, you were far away from the cliff edge. You turned around in a flash of panic. How had you moved so far without feeling it? You had to squint your eyes to see the drop-off point, now. You–

Warm. Something warm and big was wrapping around your waist, circling around you entirely and holding you firmly. You looked down at it, stupefied. You should be scared. You should be fighting. You should do something– 

But why would you? It would be futile to fight, and instead of following your mind, you allowed yourself to fall into instinct. You went lax in the grip, allowing the cecaelia to turn you around to face him again. 

Hazy eyes met sharp ones, and you felt thoroughly scrutinized under his gaze. Like a flayed fish before him, stripped bare and vulnerable. You shuddered at the thought. Why? You had no idea. All sensible thought flew out of your mind the second you laid eyes on him. It was much easier to surrender to the feeling rather than fight it. 

He seemed to see something he liked within you, because he drew back with a cocky smirk stretching his lips. Your eyes followed the movement, enraptured. You took him in fully, seeing every detail up close. Shaggy hair fell around his shoulders, looking as if it were shorn by the dullest of blades. His skin was soft, almost begging you to touch. You wanted to touch, so you reached–

A tentacle grabbed you by the wrist, steadfast and secure. You tugged against it experimentally, once again going limp once you were sure the hold wouldn’t budge. By the time your eyes lazily made their way back up to meet his own, his face was much closer again.

“What spell is this..?” You croaked, voice thick and heavy. You couldn’t even begin to explain why you were so affected, only that you were. 

“You are lucky that I was the one who found you.” He easily ignored your question, and you watched in open fascination as his eyebrows creased in worry. You yearned to touch again, to smooth it out for him. Where were these urges coming from?

“Lucky..?” You echoed, cocking your head to the side. Something flashed in his eyes at the movement, and you swore you could feel the tentacle around your waist grip you just a little tighter. You squirmed. “Do that again.” You felt breathless, sounded breathless. You needed to feel that again. You needed to understand that feeling. Before you could clarify any further, a bell sounded in the distance.

A Bell. The belltower from home, signalling the turn of another hour. Home, where your father was no doubt waiting for you to return from the studies you abandoned. If the Dark Cecaelia noticed the way your entire body tensed at the sound and subsequent realisation, he didn’t mention it aloud. Instead, he just watched. His eyes trailed over every inch of your body as it remained stiff as coral under his touch. 

“Home…” You whispered. Your eyes were glazed over, clearly lost in a terrifying spiral of thoughts about what your father would do to you if he ever found out about this, about where you were, about who you were with– Shit. You had to get out of here, you had to–

“Easy, pretty. Easy.” A hand gripped your chin gently, much more gently than you could have ever expected, and guided you to look into his eyes. Gods those eyes, you could get lost in them forever, fall and fall and fall and never escape their depths. Your body immediately relaxed upon the eye contact, turning as soft as kelp in his hold.

“That’s it, pearl…” He soothed, voice deep and smooth, easing over your every worry like a healing salve. What were you so worried about, again…?

“You're going to go home in a moment, pearl– no, do not look at me with such fearful eyes. You will go home, but you will return to me. I expect you here by the second low-tide cycle every day, am I understood?” It was the most you had ever heard him speak in one go, and you were helpless to do anything but nod along. You’d agree to anything he said, it was far too great a temptation to give your assent when you were being held so firmly and spoken to so gently. He clicked his tongue behind razor-sharp teeth. He followed the sound with another command, “Words.”

“Yes…” You trailed, unsure of how long your voice would remain available to you. It felt like everything about you was fading in the face of such comfortable power. He cocked an eyebrow, expectant. You didn’t even have to think before the correct sentence bubbled past your lips, ticking both of your faces upon their exit from your pretty lips. 

“Yes, sir.”

–

“Where the hell were you? Do you have any idea how many guards I had scouring the Kingdom for you? Have you any clue the uproar your little vanishing stunt is going to cause?” Your father boomed, his voice slicing through the usually peaceful water within the pristine walls of the throne room. You kneeled before him, an acceptable distance away, head bowed in humility. Your hands were clenched together in fists in your lap, and you willed yourself to remain as perfectly poised as you had spent your whole life training to be.

“Father–”

“Save it. I do not wish to hear whatever feeble excuse you have to offer. My opinion remains the same. I have been far too gentle with you, allowing you to study in spaces of your choosing and on your own time. No more. You will adhere to a stricter schedule, and you are not permitted to leave your chambers until I deem you fit enough to be seen by the public once again.” Your father pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, and the hot shame of humiliation seeped into your bones slowly. What were you supposed to do? You could never raise a word against your father. While your subjects regarded you highly, they had no idea the power imbalance that occurred behind closed doors. They had no idea the treatment you truly faced within these gleaming walls, which, to you, seemed more akin to a prison. 

A gilded cage. 

“You will disappoint me no longer. You will become King someday, and I will be damned if I let childish rebellion be the end of our powerful kingdom. Leave me.” Your father waved his wrist, not even sparing you a glance. You sucked in a slow gulp of seawater, trying to steady your shaking limbs as you pushed yourself up from your place on the floor. You were used to this, but the humiliation never ceased. No matter how much you disliked your father, part of you continued to yearn for his approval, to be told you were enough, that you did well, that you were loved. But you knew your place. You may be related by blood, but the weight of the crown overshadowed any allegiance. 

So you accepted your fate with your head bowed, and made your way silently to your chambers under the watchful eye of a guard you had never bothered getting to know the name of.

–

Once the doors had been closed and locked behind you with a resounding finality, you allowed yourself to sink pathetically onto your bed. The soft sponge gave way under you, cradling your body as you tried to burrow deeper into its comfort. Maybe if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to hide from it all. 

You groaned. It was fruitless, of course. Running was never an option for you. You had a kingdom to take over one day, to rule over your subjects with an iron fist like your father and his father before him. Was that really you, though? The Pearl of the Sea, ruling like your father, the Iron King? It was unlikely. You knew you weren’t cut out for the same method of ruling, but he refused to hear it. What he wanted, he got, and that included you. You’d become whatever he wanted you to be, and you had no choice over the matter. When you lifted your head, your gaze caught on the closed shutters of your windows. 

If you were trapped here, you might as well be productive, right? Perhaps even enjoy the view? With limbs that felt like the lead on a fishing line, you eased yourself up and swam closer to your windows. You eased the shutters open, watching the waves far above you dance and refract the light of the sun above. You remember from your studies and first-hand sightings that creatures lived up there, whole civilizations thrived above water. Though part of that couldn’t quite make sense in your brain, especially when you were younger. How could one swim above water? How could one breathe? You knew better, by now, but it still seemed funny to you. You rested your head upon your hand, leaning against the windowsill as you continued observing and contemplating the world around you. Far off to the east, you could barely make out the looming shadow of the mainland, the grey rocks forming the cliffside were unmistakable. You remember seeing creatures with long appendages instead of tails, even recently hearing a group of merpeople set upon bullying a poor humanoid while you sunbathed on a nearby rock. You wouldn’t call them friends, not really. Friends aren’t as cruel or power-hungry as those merpeople were. You considered their behaviour to be much more in line with sirens than mermaids. In that case, the bullying wouldn't have surprised you. Sirens were tricky, fickle creatures. A darker variety of chimera like the cecaeliae.

Upon the thought of him, your eyes darted immediately to where the drop-off point was. You could just barely see the grass plains that lay before it. Sometimes, when the water currents were at ease and the water pollution was low, you could clearly see the outcrops of shale and volcanic rock that made up the drop-off point. To your knowledge, the area itself was set on the edge of a vast crater, deep and dangerous. No civilized merman would venture down there, not voluntarily. You had to be truly cruel to survive in such an environment, where most places within the crater not even the light dares to touch. 

Anything less will get you killed out here…

You shuddered at the memory of deep-voiced warnings, of warmth and the security and strength that came with being held fast and still by something bigger than yourself. The second low-tide cycle was usually around the few hours surrounding midnight, when the sky and sea were as dark as void. You were trapped up here, unable to leave the rooms that comprised your chambers. How were you supposed to honour your promise? Leaving the Dark Cecaelia waiting was simply not an option. You were not stupid enough to make an enemy of him.

This left you in quite the dilemma. You were at a crossroads, knowing either way could spell your ruin. Just what chances were you willing to take?

You shifted your gaze to the kingdom below you– or, more accurately, the ground far below your window. The sun would be setting soon, and with it, the tides would change. You sent one glance behind you to the doors, which remained untouched as they were when you first were locked inside. Your father had never loved you. No amount of following his commands would change that. But his enemy..? 

You would need to wait for the cover of night to find out.

– 

The eerie quiet of the seagrass plains were unsettling to say the least. You shifted the bag on your shoulder, your minimal items clinking together quietly. It was a good thing you had the foresight to wrap them in cloth first before absconding out your open window. Of course, you stuffed pillows under your sheets to make it appear you were there should someone open your door to check on you, but it was merely a precaution. You knew no one would. 

You didn’t have much, just a few essentials. Your pouch was filled with seashells, emergency rations and a few select weapons. You came out of your room with a goal in mind, and you were going to see to it that it was accomplished. 

Everything looked different under the glaring lack of illumination breaking through the waves overhead. The churning of them made you uneasy. There must be a storm kicking up. You frowned, finding it harder to swim toward your destination when the currents picked up more and more, the further you swam along. Your arm came up to shield your eyes from the silt that mixed in with the more aggressive currents, trying and failing to aid your view of the area surrounding you. Just a bit further, you could almost see the cliffs edge–

Warm. Something warm and big slithered around your waist, and you immediately wanted to relax into the touch but… Something about it. Something about the weight of it, the warmth, the feeling–

Wrong. It was all wrong. Immediately you began to thrash, to shake off the hold on your waist, but it was already too late. You were being dragged, harshly, through the churning water. You tried opening your eyes, willing to brave the onslaught of sand in order to free yourself, but you stopped short. Ink. You were surrounded by ink. You couldn't see out, and the chilling realisation settled in your body that it also meant no one could see you. Even if you managed to cry out for help loudly enough to catch someone's attention, cecaelia ink alone would dissuade them from coming to your aid. You were on your own, here. 

Suckers pulled at your skin, leaving angry red blooms across your soft skin, and it fucking burned. Gone were the sure, strong touches you were yearning for, all was replaced by the way this cecaelia seemed to want to rip you to shreds. 

“Evil thing,” The voice mocked you, unfamiliar and scary. “You will pay for your fathers crimes with your blood.” You couldn’t afford to be rendered still by fear, you had to move. You swung your arm out, reaching blindly for the bag you were carrying. If you could reach your weapons, if you could reach anything, you could better your chances of survival. You felt the brush of the familiar material against your fingertips, and you slammed your hand down on it, hoping it would give you enough leverage to grip the knife inside without leaving yourself too open to attack–

Crunch. 

White-hot pain seared up your arm. A scream bubbled from your lips, unbidden and guttural in its anguish. You didn’t need to see the damage to know that your forearm was broken. Quite badly, if the feeling was anything to go by. You had bigger issues to worry about. Snickers seeped into the inked water around you, amused by your pained cries. The grip on your waist loosened just enough for you to seize your chance. Swallowing the bile rising in your throat due to the pain, you reached again with purpose. Your fingers found purchase around the cold hilt of your knife. You were infinitely glad that the damaged arm was not your dominant one as you fixed your grip on your weapon. What was it your instructor always said?

Find an opening, strike.

You needed that opening. An opening you did not currently have, not with the way this cecaelia was ripping at your waist and tail. Sharp teeth and nails found your skin, tugging with the intent to tear you apart. It was working, clearly. The tangy smell of your blood mixing in with the disgusting smell of ink in the water. You were surely going to attract other predators if you didnt get out of here fast– assuming you lived long enough to do so.

Luckily, the bloodied wounds marring your skin proved to be just the opening you needed. The substance made the cecaelia’s grip slip off of your torso, leaving him unsteady and open for attack. Your previous combat practices rung in your ears. 

Strike.

You swung your good arm, striking the cecaelia and burying the knife deep into the side of his ribs. Clearly not anticipating the return of violence, he fell back just enough that his tentacles released you. You stood your own ground, now, falling into a much more familiar fighting stance. Your body was weary, coated in blood and your arm hurt, but the adrenaline settled into something worse than instinct. You were a predator, after all. 

Act like it.

You didn’t give the cecaelia time to recuperate. You took your opening and lashed with furious precision, a sick satisfaction blooming in you as you watched his blood seep into the water and mix with his own ink every time you drove the knife into him. Tentacles tried to grasp at you, but a harsh slash of your knife through the gummy flesh of the appendage, severing it from its host, took care of that problem. You couldn’t hear his screaming anymore, couldn’t hear him pleading for you to let him go.

Your previous fears about attracting predators in the nearby water were all but forgotten. You were the one with the scent of blood in your nose, and you wanted more. 

Slash, slash, slash– 

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. You didn’t even know if he was still trying to attack you anymore, but you didn’t take the chance to find out. You just kept stabbing, and stabbing, and stabbing–

“Little one.”

You whirled around, a crazed look in your eyes. You must have been quite the sight to behold; blood seeping from your wounds and into the water in delicate whisps, arm broken and turned in a way that looked wrong, bloodied knife clutched in a white-knuckled grip that you immediately raised upon instinct. 

“...How long were you floating there?” Your tone was flat, not truly asking a question. It was a demand– like your father would make. The Dark Cecaelia made no move to reply, instead studying your body as if taking inventory of your injuries. The action only stirred up the dark depths of your fury.

“I said…” You approached, chest heaving with the effort it took to keep yourself upright and battle-ready, “How long have you been fucking floating there!?” You were nearly on top of him now, face to face with the cecaelia you came here for, the one you just risked your life to meet at his behest. Your mind flew to wild places, accusatory voices in your head spewing volatile words towards him, ones that you were powerless in your current state to stop. 

“Where the fuck were you!?” You seethed, fist clenching around the hilt of the knife harder, preparing for a strike you had no control over. You were mad with rage, head clouded with bloodlust and self-preservation. Anyone around you was a threat, especially someone who sat there and watched you get attacked and did nothing. Watching. Was that all he ever did? It seemed that way, now. All he had ever done with you was observe, and it never failed to make your skin crawl. The weight of his gaze was too much, too overwhelming, too disarming. Go for the eyes–

A sting erupted in your wrist, forcing you to drop the knife. You were unable to do much else than watch it slowly sink to the sea floor. Your breathing remained uneven, body poised to strike even without the weapon in your hands. You raised the only good one left– Or, you tried to. It didn't move. You strained harder, staring down at the unresponsive limb. You grew frustrated, a growl rumbling in your chest at the mark on your wrist. At first glance, it might seem like a remnant of your earlier fight for your life, but you knew it was much too small to have come from one of your attacker's suckers. No, this was smaller, pointed, like a pinprick.

“Did you just sting me…? What fucking right do you have to do that–” 

“Little one.” He sounded insistent, now, imploring. The tone immediately doused the fire within you like a cool rain, snuffing out the embers of your rage with gentleness. You swallowed, jaw snapping shut.

“You did well. You defended yourself. You took a life in exchange for your own.” He paused, weighing the words in his mouth until he seemed to find the ones he was searching for. His eyes trailed from you to the heap of cecaelia meat behind you. To call it a body would be too kind. He met your eyes again, the moment stretching between you uncomfortably. You didn’t dare speak. He stung you already. It wouldn’t take much else to snuff your life out entirely right now. 

“You are not like your father.” He spoke with finality, like he was unsure of the truth of the statement before, like you had just proved him wrong. Perhaps you had. Perhaps he saw you differently, now. The thought should make you preen, but it only served to make you glower, anger slowly simmering back to life. 

Your arms dangled uselessly at your sides, one from your injury and the other due to his potent venom, but you ached with the need to attack. You were still too high-strung, too deep in your panic for survival. Without your arms, you felt far too vulnerable. You bared your teeth, nose scrunching when he made to approach you further. You snapped at his hand when it approached your face. Too fast, your mind panicked. Threat.

But the touch was soft. Reverent, gentle in a way that sent your fight-or-flight ridden brain into a tailspin. Just as you began to ease into the touch, his grip turned colder, tightening around your chin to force you to look at him. Your eyes snapped open. When had you closed them?

“Not at me. Never at me. If you are to learn to hold your ground properly against a cecaelia and escape unscathed, you will never bare your guppy teeth at me. Am I understood?” His tone was icy, commanding in a way that sunk into your skin like oil. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest still, yet his presence seemed to help even out your breathing anyway. You nodded shakily. His grip softened again, gathering your shaking form up and cradling you close in his arms.

“Close your eyes.” You didn’t really need the instruction, eyes closed as soon as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. You barely knew this creature, but the grip he held you in felt suddenly like safety, a welcome respite for your battered and stressed body. You felt water rush around you, the movement reminding you that you were being taken elsewhere with neither your knowledge nor permission, but you ignored it in favour of nosing against the column on his throat to seek out more of his body heat. 

A chuckle bubbling from his chest should have made you nervous, perhaps even shy, but you were too overwhelmed to react accordingly, to behave as proper as you should be. Customs were left at the Kingdoms gate as far as you were concerned. In his arms, traveling who knows where with this cecaelia… No longer were you a prince, and he your kingdom’s mortal enemy. Instead, you were just you, and he was just… God, you didn’t even know his name. 

“Your name..” You prompted, voice sluggish with exhaustion as it settled deep in your bones, “You never told me.” 

The laughter you had grown familiar with now rang out again, like what you had said was truly amusing. You lifted your head from its comfortable resting place with great effort, and he outright cooed at your bewildered expression. You pouted.

“You know mine, can I not know yours? It’s much too formal to call you by the title my father gave you. It feels insulting…” You confessed, eyebrows pulling together in a furrow. His thumb rubbed gentle patterns into your still-numb arm. 

“Once we are home, I will tell you,” He soothed, like he was speaking to a fussy infant. The implication of his tone made your ears warm. Home? He must have seen your expression at the word, and your subsequent confusion over it, but he made no move to clarify. As far as he was concerned, it seemed his home was now yours. Maybe that was enough for now, your thoughts grew too muddled to properly sort them, so you succumbed to the urge to return to the safety of his neck.

–

When you finally blinked your eyes open, you found yourself in a cave of some sort. The first thing you noticed was that the walls were smoothed out purposefully, little shelves carved into them to hold little bottles of glowing fluids and other interesting trinkets. Magic, your brain sluggishly supplied, cecaeliae can wield magic. 

The second thing you noticed was that you couldn't move. It wasn’t a frightening realisation, somehow your body knew before you looked down at yourself that you were still safe in the Dark Cecaelia’s hold. You took stock of yourself, your body felt… much better. Gone was the bone peeking through your non-dominant arm, it was just as it was before the attack, blemishless and supple skin returned to its former glory. You marveled at it for a second longer before your gaze trailed to the mass of tentacles wrapping around every part of your body. You followed them up, eyes lazily trailing up to meet the eyes of the Dark Cecaelia himself, who was already watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes. In the back of your mind, you registered that he was still rubbing soothingly over your no-longer-numb arm. 

“Beomgyu,” He spoke, voice deep and thick and settling over you as beautifully as his tentacles did. You blanked for a second, blinking at him with sleep still clinging to your lashes. What?

“Beomgyu?” You repeated, head lolling to rest against his shoulder. You were now eye level with his jaw, which you sleepily trailed your finger along the line of, feeling the stubble. It helped remind you that this was real, that he was here and holding you so safely. He smiled.

“My name.” He stated it simply, the hint of a shrug jostling your head ever-so-slightly. You frowned at the movement, which he somehow must have picked up on because he laughed. You wiggled in his grip in retaliation, testing how much you could move and– 

Oh. That felt nice. You felt his grip tighten on you when you struggled, though he knew your struggle was only for show and testing limits. The added pressure made your stomach flip in a way you were beginning to become familiar with. It only ever happened with him. With Beomgyu.

“Beomgyu.” You echoed it again, feeling the weight of it on your tongue, wrapping your lips around the vowels. You liked the way it felt to do so, to say his name and hear him hum in response. You didn’t have the brain power quite yet to notice that you sounded a little too breathless, a little too whiny.

“What is it, pretty?” He prompted, though you could tell by the way he spoke that he wasn’t quite looking for an answer. Your hand was splayed against his chest, and now that you noticed it, you simply couldn’t look away. Your fingers twitched against his skin, nails just barely biting into the flesh. He hummed again, the sound deep and stirring something within you again. 

“Do it again,” you breathed, echoing a request you remember uttering a day prior. Was it only a day ago that you felt this inexplicable pull, a dangerous desire for more? It was hard to wrap your mind around. Surely you were under some sort of spell, but by this point you didn’t care. You needed more. Needed more of Beomgyu.

He tilted his head, as if confused for a moment before realization dawned on him. Ah, yes, he remembered the last time you begged for him so sweetly like that, with not a clue in the world what you were truly asking for. It was adorable, truly. His grip tightened around you once again, pressing against your body from torso to tail. You choked on a gasp.

“Little one.” You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, head too fuzzy from the affect his actions had on you. All you could manage was a distant-sounding hum, and little else. He seemed pleased with that, if the rumble in his chest was anything to go by. You wiggled in his grip again, needy. Needy for what, you didn't quite know. 

“Little one,” He tried again. You hummed again, a bit faster this time. Why wasn't he doing it again? What was taking so long? “Do you even know what you want, right now?”

You shook your head. No, you didn’t. But you didn’t really care to, as long as he continued. 

The tentacles removed themselves from your body, and you keened high in your throat, indignant at being denied. Warm hands shifted your weight, making you sit up. You slowly met his eyes, and the intensity in them froze you in your place. His gaze trailed down, and the image of him staring at something near your lap, slack-jawed and wanting left you feeling like a red-hot iron. Hot, searing the water around you to a boiling point. You squirmed under the weight of it, and found yourself slowly following his gaze. What your eyes finally landed made you freeze.

A slit. Something you knew was there, realistically. You knew biology, of course, but the normally closed opening was open and dripping something thick. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You were aroused this whole time? God, if that's what it felt like, you no longer judged those who spent their lives seeking this pleasure. You found yourself gnawing at your lower lip upon the realisation. You hesitantly looked back up at him, hands moving to cover yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry if I made you uncom–” He cut you off, snatching your wrists and pulling them away from your lap. 

“Do not hide yourself from me. Tell me what it is that you want.” His words left no room for debate. They never did. He took command over you like it was as easy as breathing, and with how frequently he did so, it might as well be. You swallowed, trying to combat the lump settling in your throat. You let your hands settle by your side obediently. You wracked your brain, trying to figure out how to answer him. What did you want? Everything, you knew. You wanted everything from him. You wanted to leave your fathers image behind. You wanted to be held again. You wanted to be wrapped up in his tentacles again, unable to escape. You wanted to learn to fight back. You wanted to make Beomgyu proud.

A cheshire grin spread on Beomgyu’s face. Shit. You said that aloud, didnt you? You seemed to do that around him without intending to. His power over you was truly astounding.

“Flattery, my pearl, will get you everywhere you wish to be.” The smile remained, unwavering. It seemed to grow sharper, predatory, and it sent heat licking at the base of your spine. 

“You want to make me proud, want to learn to fight like a real cecaelia? Your father always was hesitant to follow my suggestions, brilliant as they were... But it seems I’ve gained something far greater after my exile.” He trailed a finger along your arm, watching in thinly-veiled amusement as gooseflesh erupted in the wake of his touch. He followed an invisible line, tracing up your shoulder, collarbone, neck, jaw. At last, he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes locked hungrily on your lips. 

“I gained you.”

The words stole the breath from your lips. He.. thought you alone were worth all the torment he went through at the hands of your father? You struggled to wrap your mind around it. Surely this was all just sweet words designed to ensnare, to trap you, keep you pliant against his every whim. If it was, it was working. You were doomed.

“You gained me,” You echoed, unable to look away. He had bewitched you, mind, body and soul, and you were powerless to say no. It was useless to deny it, to pretend he did not possess you wholly. “I am yours.”

A groan tumbled from his mouth, and he leaned forward just a fraction more. You could feel the warm water of his breath rushing over your face, and you suddenly ached for him to be closer, yet his grip held you right where he wanted you. Just a breath away. 

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He whispered it like a secret, like reverent devotion meant only for you to hear. Your heart swooped dangerously in your chest at the words, squirming slightly. You needed to be closer, needed to feel how true his words were. You needed him to prove it.

“So show me.” Your words were simple, perhaps too simple. You couldn’t stop them if you tried, far too breathless and high-strung to deny the desire any further. You were tired of the tension, of the gaze on you from afar. You needed him up close, needed him to do more than just watch. You needed him to touch.

And touch, he did.

He surged forward with no warning, pressing his lips to yours in a searing, claiming kiss. You immediately yielded to it, allowing him to take what he needed, and give you everything. You thrilled at the contact, the way his lips pressed to yours before he grew too greedy for anything remotely chaste. Sharp teeth nibbled at your bottom lip, creating tiny cuts that made you hiss into the contact, yet you didn’t dare pull away. You couldn’t now, even if you tried. He held you fast against him, a crushing grip against your arms to keep you in place. His tongue traced along the duller edges of your teeth, pressed over the roof of your mouth, tangled with your own tongue, and you were helpless. You wined, high and desperate in your throat. You had never even been kissed before, much less did you imagine your first kiss would be such an intense claiming. You reveled in it, the electric feeling dancing through your body and settling hot and heavy at the base of your stomach. That thick liquid continued to make a mess of your lap, and you outright sobbed when a finger trailed gingerly over the edges, spreading the fluid. 

You felt positively dizzy, pliant and vulnerable to his every whim.

“Beomgyu…” You cried against his lips, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were calling for. You needed less, you needed more, you needed everything. He was somehow able to understand you, smiling against you before finally pulling away. You rocked forward, attempting to chase him. He laughed.

“My pearl,” He replied in kind, delicately cupping your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He had that soft, awed look on his face again that made you feel wholly wanted, wholly desired. You sighed against his palm, leaning into it to press a kiss to the skin closest to your lips. “If you do this, you can never go back. You know this, right?”

Never going back. To the castle, you assumed. The idea of never returning to your father should scare you, but it didn't. You were safe out here, tucked up close to Beomgyu, far from your father’s influence. His power stopped at the drop-off point, the same place where Beomgyu’s began. You would be safe as long as you had him to keep you that way, and there was no doubt he would teach you what he knew, turn you into a fearsome fighting machine. Someone he would be proud to show off to the others. You preened at the idea, nodding your head vigorously.

“I never needed him. I only need you.”

–

If someone had told you just weeks ago that you'd be the lover of the Dark Cecaelia, that you had given up your crown for dark water and uncertainty, you would have laughed them out of the room. There was no way you wouldn’t follow in your fathers footsteps, becoming just like him atop the throne. There was no way you'd give up your whole life for this stranger, for this danger made so obvious by the texts you grew up reading. But Beomgyu was nothing like the scrolls, and you were nothing like your father.

You were happy, and perhaps that was all you ever needed. 

[gingerbreadmonsters]

have to go back to the embassy tomorrow and i would so deeply love to walk into the ocean

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I always tell my littlest cousins stories before bedtime (usually about gods and myths) but occasionally I tell them an original story, and I'm listening back to a recording I made the one time I thought to record myself telling one and I'm like "Wow, I’m actually a really good frickin storyteller."

(Yes, I’m a professional writer, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that I’m good at what I do.)

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, dad bod, mating press, protected -> unprotected, size kink, bręeding, praise, mdni.

it’s something hot about how husband! nanami just isn’t aware of how big he really is.

he’s insanely thick - easily stretching you with only just a few vast inches inviting its way in between your slippery entrance. the rubbery tip of the condom nearly snags against your gripping insides as he moves, hovering his soft weight above you. heavy, rushed pants of breath drag out from each lung as he looks down at you lovingly. just a mere glimpse of you, and he’s already ready to propose to you all over again.

“f.. fuck, sweetheart. hold on t’ me.” he’d grunt with two beefy arms held against either side of you.

curled twines of blond hair paint a nice bushy portion of his chest like a canvas. it starts near his neck before trailing further down toward his plump abdomen. nanami’s tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder, silently gasping at each veiny inch that disappears inside. “k- kento,” you moan, one of your legs hooking around his wide snapping waist. he’s hesitant before his hands pull your legs way up to your chest. “mmp- don’t stop, baby.”

“hah- promise,” he groans through clenched teeth, his jaw locking by the second. the stretch he creates was so good that it’s got nanami falling right into your chest. his body was practically akin to a pillow, and he’s squishing himself on top of you before your cunt squeezes around him. fuck- fuck- fuck- that same word chants in his empty brain, nearly slipping out a hoarse whimper at how slick you coated the entirety of his cock. “c’mon, sweetheart. open for me like ‘y always do. gooood, biiiig stretch for kento.”

but as he’s gradually bucking his unsteady hips into you while gently placing a hand on top of your tummy, the two of you are met with a loud abrupt ‘snaaap!’ sound, and nanami pauses.

literally - the condom pitifully snaps apart, ignoring gravity as the now ruined rubber tightens around his shaft. nanami’s panting in your neck as his entire body quivers over you before he mumbles out a raspy, “o.. oh.. shit.”

it’s rare for him to swear, but at that particular moment, you throbbed, impatiently chewing on the skin that lived on your bottom lip.

your bare heel rubs soothing circles around his tense back muscles as you suddenly meet his lustful gaze.

his eyes - they’re shining almost. the more you peer into his fawn, almond eyes, the more you got lost in his gentle, ardent stare.

“i- it’s okay,” you’d breathlessly mumble, feeling his dick retreat its way out of your sopping pussy. it’s a loud, sobbing ‘pshs’ sound that slops from your vocal pussy before you shakily whimper, “go raw, ken.”

“hah- dirty girl,” he’d groan, pressing three wet open-mouthed kisses against your temple. in immediate response, your body shudders underneath him as you hear as you feel him starting to shuffle.

with a single veiny hand, nanami snatches the snugly-fit condom off of his length before tossing it in the nearby trash bin. “ ‘m not sure if i’d last long…my lo- oh fuuuck.”

nanami’s dead silent.

shallow, shaky breath falls from his rose-colored lips as the v-shaped head of his blushing cock lightly taps against your slobbery cunt.

you’re so soaked, abundantly pouring from all sides as your legs remain prettily spread and folded. nanami himself couldn’t help but stare, openly gawking as he’s slowly creating a nasty full thrust.

just one-

a single thrust that’s making you both fall against each other at once. he’s laid right over your body, being careful not to crush you as he grunts at the occasional clenches of your cunt.

the best way to describe nanami was like a teddy bear, so soft ‘n round from all angles. with him having you in mating press, you’re feeling all of his weight plummet down onto you, each pound of his cock becoming deeper within every swallowing inch. it’s got you speechless, moaning continuously as a few strands of his chest hair collide against your skin.

“mmpf- s.. so big, ‘ken,” you’d moan, twisting your toes in anticipation at the raw friction.

he’s so big - even bigger without the rubber it seemed, and you gasped once you felt his soft foreskin slide its way inside. truth be told though, you’d never get used to his size no matter how many times he’s stuffed you full. your gummy convulsing walls merrily greeted nanami’s shaft as your arms wrapped around his rounded belly. “ugh- there, right fuckin’ thereee.”

“god- woman, you’re just.. huuh- askin’ for another baby,” nanami grumbles, blond brows creasing together as he tenderly rubs a wide palm in a circle around your tummy.

his dick’s thoroughly massaging through you perfectly, and he’s sucking his teeth at the natural feeling. your slickness coats him so good, and he’s still got you in the lewdest mating press with your knees shoved against your chest. “ ‘s that what you want, princess?” and as he speaks, his voice lowers, feeling your tummy anxiously tuck inward. “you’d look so pretty again all plump.”

with a look of meek, you cup his face, gently stroking a thumb over the crack of his parted, pouty lips. “mhm-” you’d nod, holding in a gasp once he presents your pussy with one vigorous thrust.

it’s sharp- and you whimper at how his cockhead slammed itself deep against your clit. as your thighs frantically shook, nanami holds them up before playfully tilting his head at your response.

“mhm?” he repeats your little mumble, a hiss nearly slipping through his clenched teeth as he pulls out before sloppily pulling back in.

the slimy squelches that followed were just the definition of wet. each dramatic-sounding squelch that yelped out between your legs had nanami on the verge of shooting blanks right then and there. not just there and there but inside you, too.

as dewdrops of sweat dribble from all sides of his head, nanami presses a sticky wet kiss against the crevice of your mouth. “use those pretty words, i wanna.. wanna hear my sloppy wife talk to me nice.”

“k— kentooo, please,” you’d whimper, writhing underneath his soft body. he’s pressed up against you, practically suffocating your body with his huggable warmth. each barreling inch he spent inside you had you drooling from the inside of your mouth. nanami hums, sneaking a kiss on your damp lips before feeling you claw a hand down his chiseled back. “hah- cum inside. f- fuck me.”

exactly at your sweet pleading words, you felt his dick throb inside of you. it’s more of a sporadic twitch, and it makes you let off a cute ‘ooooh!’

nanami slumps his head in between your sore jiggling breasts, sliding a tongue down the crack of your chest before groaning. “f.. fuck, when you ask me like that, can’t r- resist, honey,” and his voice dripped with such sensuous desire. nanami’s shaft greedily kisses its way against your pearled clit before his entire body erupts into vicious shakes.

he knew he wouldn’t last long at all - especially raw because once he’s starting to swell from the very tip, he’s gutturally groaning right between your tits. gluey golden strands of hair tickled against you as he’s cumming hard, whimpering into your chest.

nanami’s entire body quakes violently, and his thrusts switch from rhythmic to pathetically sloppy within seconds..

even still, you’re folded in such a pretty way, taking each slobbery drop that fills into your cunt deeply, and you moaned once his dripping tongue glides a path down toward your sensitive nipples. “mmph-” he’d grunt, muffling himself as he’s still dumping such a thick load.

nanami guides a hand down between your legs, smearing the back of his wedding ring against your flooding pussy. with a loud pop! your nipple wetly plops out between his lips and he holds still.

“take it, sweetheart. ‘s all for you,” nanami lowly whispers against your clammy chest, his heavy eyelids flapping shut. your warmth - it’s so balmy inside, and he’s already shuddering once his leaky tip sprinkles the final remnants of cum deep into your womb. it leaves a beautiful dry taste in his mouth, and nanami uses a thumb to spread a flap of your folds apart. “she’s s- so pretty.”

“f- fuck..” you’d suck in a airy moan, panting at the pitching faint spurts of wetness that echoes through your ears. gooey, thin torrents of cum run down the opening of your cunt as he pulls out, and you gasp once nanami suddenly flips you over.

now - you’re laid on your chest with your hips raised, ass arched up, and your neck most certainly raised.

“hah- forgive…me,” nanami throatily murmurs, using the back of his wedding ring once more to slither down your cream-coated pussy. his tone, it’s far lower this time—raspy with a bit of a smoky airiness to it.

oh- you were just an entire mess. he’s already licking his lips as he takes in the beauty of his wife’s backside, immediately feeling his sensitive dick twitch at the coarse, arching sight.

the way his cum just messily cascades down between your syrupy slit, splattering onto the silk white sheets in the process - he wanted more..

nanami hungrily rolls out his tongue before licking your pussy from top to bottom—shamelessly relishing in his bittersweet taste that soaks against his sizzling buds. the viscous mess glitters a sheeny filthy coat onto his pursed lips before he huffs, sitting back up.

with a soft little tap, you whine, feeling the familiar upturned curve of nanami’s hardened tip smack against your cum-slobbering entrance again and again..

“arch a bit more for me. atta girl, mhm- let’s.. hah- aim for triplets this time, my love..”

[lokissweater]

you noticed me ⚾︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.

word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)

authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.

and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?

there he was in all of his emo glory.

number eighteen.

focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.

“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.

“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”

you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.

“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.

your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”

you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.

“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”

“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”

she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”

“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”

she snorted. “are you sure?!”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.

you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”

“suit yourself!”

a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.

she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.

“i told yuji.”

you blinked. “told him what?”

“that you like fushiguro.”

“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”

“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”

“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”

your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”

you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”

“megumi also played really well today.”

“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.

“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”

“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.

he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”

you snorted, “elaborate please.”

yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.

“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.

your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”

“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.

yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”

“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”

he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”

you stared blankly.

“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”

you kept staring.

“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”

you blinked.

“y/n?”

“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”

your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”

“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“because your eyes are red.”

“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”

you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”

“y/n…” yuji trailed off.

“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”

and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.

it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?

this was the reality. you never stood a chance.

so why were you crying?

you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.

you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.

you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.

megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?

he never felt so out of reach.

“here.”

your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.

“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”

the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.

but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”

“for what.”

you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.

not that you could even see in the first place.

“for looking like a loser.”

the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”

you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.

“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”

“that’s the point,” he hums.

“how come?”

“i get migraines everyday. they help.”

“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”

you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”

you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”

“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”

you snickered, “what? loserrr.”

you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.

“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”

you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.

“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”

you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.

“why is that.”

“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”

the stranger man stopped.

“…why?”

“because he indirectly broke my heart.”

you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.

at least someone is having fun right now.

“how did he indirectly break your heart?”

“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”

“did he?”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”

the stranger man hummed.

“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”

“why do you like him?”

“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.

you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”

you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”

you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”

the stranger man laughed a little.

“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”

“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”

you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”

you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”

“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.

“yup.”

the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”

“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.

it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.

“i’m sorry i made you cry.”

you jumped back.

“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”

you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.

and when they did?

megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.

your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.

“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.

you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.

his smile widened.

oh my god.

megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.

but he was smiling.

“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”

“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.

“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”

he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.

“you don’t have to do that.”

“yes i do—”

“you don’t have to forget me either.”

“that i definitely do—”

you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.

“hold on y/n—”

megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.

y/n?

you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.

“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.

“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”

you nodded, eyes blank.

“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.

oh.

oh that’s right.

you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.

“oh.”

he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.

“dummy.”

“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.

his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”

megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.

you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.

cute.

“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”

“do you have a ride home?”

you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”

he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.

he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“you coming?”

your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”

he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”

“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”

he stared lazily.

“come.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.

megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.

you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.

his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.

megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—

he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.

“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.

megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.

“can you put your address in—”

“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”

you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.

forty fucking minutes.

“megumi..”

his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.

“hm?”

“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”

you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”

“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.

“i’ll jump out.”

he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.

“i have child lock on.”

“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”

“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”

you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”

he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.

“what do you do?”

you fidgeted. “h—huh?”

“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”

he’s asking you?

“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”

he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”

you grimaced.

do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?

you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”

he raised an eyebrow.

“i— don’t?”

he cocked his head. “you don’t?”

you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.

“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”

you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”

you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”

he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.

you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.

megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.

you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.

“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.

your eyebrows furrowed.

he was still thinking about that?

you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”

he huffed out a laugh.

megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.

well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.

megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.

you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.

“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”

he shook his head. “it’s alright.”

you went in to close the door.

“y/n.”

you leaned back down, “yeah?”

“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.

“i— i don’t think so.”

“good.”

megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.

“i’ll see you then.”

as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.

the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.

as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.

once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.

he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.

“who are you waving at?”

your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.

“who is- fushiguro?!”

you looked at her sheepishly.

as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.

“i have to tell yuji—”

“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”

“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”

“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”

“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.

that’s how it went for about a month.

you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.

but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.

but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.

when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.

“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”

“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”

“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”

“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.

“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”

she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”

you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.

“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”

she nodded eagerly.

“i swear!”

so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.

you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.

finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.

“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”

“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.

your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.

“hi.”

you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

you gulped.

“h—hi.”

“i didn’t think you’d come.”

he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.

“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”

he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.

“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”

you faltered.

he noticed that?

“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”

for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.

“are you—”

“fushiguro!”

you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.

“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”

megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.

the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.

“hi! i’m takuma!”

you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”

“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”

you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.

at his own banquet.

“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”

takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”

you nodded, “mhm!”

the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.

you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.

“is anyone sitting here?”

“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”

“take mine ino.”

megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”

huh?

“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”

he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.

and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.

“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”

“mhm.”

your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.

the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.

your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.

he stared at your enamored look.

“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.

but he did.

“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.

your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”

megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.

“here.”

your eyes traveled down.

“what?”

“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.

shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”

megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.

“i have four others. it’s fine.”

“no but—”

he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.

yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.

your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.

“t—thank you gumi…”

his lips twitched.

you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.

and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.

megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.

“they met at a party didn’t they?”

you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”

he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”

your jaw dropped. “you were?!”

he nodded. “and i remember you too.”

you sat there in silence.

how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?

before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.

you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”

“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”

megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”

your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”

he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”

“don’t be sorry gumi…”

you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.

but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.

“do you want to leave?”

he turned his head to the side and looked at you.

“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”

you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.

“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”

he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.

your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”

you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.

“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”

you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”

“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.

“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.

“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”

your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”

“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”

“y/n!”

you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”

“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”

“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”

“i can definitely see why!”

he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”

yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.

“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”

“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”

“i don’t know!”

“well call megumi over—”

suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.

“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”

yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.

“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.

megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.

“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”

you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.

he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”

“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.

you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.

you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.

the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.

you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.

“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.

“me neither.”

“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.

“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”

you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”

the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.

“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.

your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”

he hummed, “how come?”

“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”

“i have a sweet tooth.”

your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”

“you’re not?”

“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”

megumi liked how much you talked.

“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.

you nodded. “have you?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”

met his dad?

megumi spotted your confusion and continued.

“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

your eyes softened.

“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”

“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.

he nodded. “i do.”

he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”

you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.

“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.

“i love it.”

you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.

“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”

he nodded.

“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”

“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”

you giggled.

“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”

you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”

you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”

megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.

“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.

everyone thinks he’s rude.

your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”

he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”

you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”

you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.

you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.

“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.

megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.

“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.

his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.

you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.

your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.

and then you pulled away with a wet pop.

“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”

what?

megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.

he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”

“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”

megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”

“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.

megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.

“y/n.”

you stopped. “what.”

he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”

“helpless and a creep.”

he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”

he stood and offered his hand out for you.

“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”

megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.

you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.

you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.

you kissed megumi fushiguro.

“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”

“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”

your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”

“that was for stability! he—”

“no it was to feel you up!”

you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”

“y/nnnn!”

as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—

and he couldn’t find you.

this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.

except you never did.

and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.

“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.

“hi.”

he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”

megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”

she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”

“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”

“because—” she stammered. “well because—”

“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.

“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.

“i don’t know!”

“let’s just tell him!”

“but what if!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”

your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.

“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.

“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.

so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.

and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—

but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.

and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.

and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?

and it was all because of you, you realized.

you made him upset.

you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.

“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”

“i can take a wild guess.”

she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”

she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.

most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.

just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.

“y/n.”

you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.

megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.

“h—hi-”

“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“what?”

megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”

he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”

your eyes bulge out of their sockets.

fall?

“you what?—”

“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.

“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”

you fidgeted.

“i— i was doing it for you—”

“why for me? i never said—”

the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.

“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”

“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”

“no but—”

“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”

“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.

“so?”

“and i’m a loser.”

he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.

“no you’re not you big dummy.”

he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.

“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”

he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.

“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”

he nodded, head still hung.

“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”

“way fucking more,” he mumbled.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.

you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.

“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.

“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.

“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”

he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”

he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.

“you’re so dense y/n…”

megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”

“the party?” you murmured.

he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.

since the party?

it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.

you were so fucking stupid.

your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.

“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”

you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.

“don’t be.”

“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”

“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”

you held him tighter.

“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“hm?”

“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”

megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.

he gripped you tighter.

“did you?”

you nodded, “mhm.”

megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.

“what else do you like.”

you gripped the fabric of his uniform.

“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”

your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.

“what else.”

“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”

“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.

“more than anything.”

“what else do you like?”

you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”

he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”

you nodded, your heart hammering.

he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.

“you wanna see what else i can do?”

“what— what else?”

megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.

“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”

he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.

“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”

“i don’t fucking care.”

megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.

he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.

you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.

“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”

“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.

“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”

“g—gumi—”

“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.

the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.

“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.

if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?

they’d drop dead.

without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.

megumi was freaky.

your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.

“is— is everybody gone?”

“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.

“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”

he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”

you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.

he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.

“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.

you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”

“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”

“m—maybe in high school?—”

megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.

“thought you liked me.”

“i do!” you sputtered.

“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”

your hole clenched.

“that— that was before you!”

he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.

“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.

“and what about takuma, hm?”

you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”

“mhm. he was all over you.”

you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.

“i—”

“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”

he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.

“would you?”

“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”

“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”

“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”

“just me?”

megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.

“y—yes!”

he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”

“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”

he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.

“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”

“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.

you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.

“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”

your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.

“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”

megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.

you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.

megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.

he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.

“put these on baby,” he murmured.

you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.

“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.

he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.

“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”

“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”

megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“and so are you.”

and that you were.

you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.

your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.

“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”

he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.

the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.

without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.

one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.

megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.

but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?

megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.

————————————————————————

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

[littencloud9]

//

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

✧. 🐍 TITS, ASS OR THIGHS?

If Zayne and Caleb had to choose, it would be thighs—every damn time.

Caleb was the type to act casual about it, but the way his hands never left your thighs told a different story. Sitting next to him? His fingers would be tracing idle circles against your skin, squeezing just enough to make you shift in place. Laying in bed? He’d have his head resting on them, kissing the soft flesh like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. But it was when you were wrapped around him, legs locked tight around his waist, that his obsession really showed.

“Fuck, pipsqueak,” he’d groan, grinding deep into your pussy as his cock throbbed inside you. “You tryin’ to trap me here? Keep me buried in this pretty cunt?” His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs, holding them open so he could watch himself slide in and out of your soaked heat. Every thrust had him panting, gaze flicking down to where his cock stretched you, glistening with your slick. “Shit—these thighs, baby. I could cum just from feeling ‘em squeeze me like this.”

Zayne, on the other hand, didn’t just love your thighs—he was fucking obsessed with them. He'd never admit it outright, but the way he grabbed, bit, and marked them told you everything you needed to know. If you so much as tried to close them around him, he'd slap them apart with a sharp smirk, watching you jolt.

“You think you get to keep these from me?” he’d sneer, his cock already pressing against your dripping slit. He’d spread your thighs wide, staring at your clit twitching with need before dragging the thick head of his cock along it, teasing. “Nah, sweetheart. These thighs are mine.” And when he finally slammed into you, he’d growl at the way they quivered, his fingers bruising your soft flesh. “Fuck—look at ‘em, shaking already. You like this? You like when I use your thighs to keep you nice and open for me?”

Caleb worshipped them. Zayne ruined them. And both of them made sure they were covered in cum by the time they were done.

If Xavier and Rafayel had to choose, it would be ass—no hesitation.

Xavier acted like he didn’t have a preference, like he was too composed to be caught up in something so simple. But the second you turned around? His sharp blue eyes were locked on your ass, jaw tightening like he was barely holding himself back. And when he had you beneath him, pressed into the mattress, he didn’t bother pretending anymore.

“Look at this,” he muttered, gripping the plush curve of your ass with both hands, spreading you open just to watch your pussy clench around nothing. “Bet you love teasing me with this—walking around like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” His cock was already leaking, thick and aching as he dragged it against your soaked slit, teasing your clit before pushing in slow. His grip tightened as you arched, forcing you to stay in place while he sank in to the hilt. “Yeah… this is what you wanted, huh?” His voice was low, smug, but his fingers trembled where they dug into your flesh. “Wanted me to fuck you so deep you feel me in your stomach?”

Rafayel was the opposite—he didn’t bother hiding how obsessed he was. The moment he got his hands on your ass, he was squeezing, grabbing, leaving marks with his nails and teeth. He’d groan every time you rode him, watching the way your ass bounced with each drop of your hips. But what really drove him insane was taking you from behind, one big hand pressing down on the small of your back, the other kneading your ass like he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, slamming his cock into your soaked pussy, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. “Shit—this ass was made for me.” His fingers spread you wider, watching the way his cock disappeared inside you, coated in slick. "Gonna fill you up—gonna make you cum just from me using you like this." His thrusts turned rougher, desperate, and he groaned when your walls clenched tight. “Yeah, that’s it—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum all over this pretty ass, aren’t you?”

Xavier liked to tease. Rafayel liked to claim. Either way, your ass was theirs, and they made sure you knew it.

If Sylus had to choose, it would be tits—without question.

From the moment his hands first cupped them, Sylus was hooked. He wasn’t shy about it either—whenever he had the chance, his palms were kneading, thumbs teasing over your nipples just to see you shiver. He loved how soft they felt against his calloused fingers, how they looked when they were spilling out of your clothes, how your breath hitched when he kissed down your neck and nipped at the sensitive skin. But what really drove him insane? Having them pressed against his face, his mouth worshiping every inch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lips already wrapping around a hardened nipple, sucking slow and deep while his other hand massaged the plush curve of your breast. “So fucking perfect—made just for me, huh?” His cock was already hard, throbbing against your slick heat, but he was too lost in the way your body arched for him, the way your clit twitched when he rolled a nipple between his fingers. “Look at you,” he murmured, breaking away just enough to admire the way your tits bounced with every needy grind of your hips. “You like this, don't you? Letting me suck on you while I stretch this pussy open?”

When he finally pushed inside, he groaned at the way your walls squeezed him, your body trembling as he filled you. His mouth went straight back to your tits, licking and sucking like he was desperate, his pace slow but deep, making sure every thrust rubbed against that perfect spot inside you. “Fuck—gonna make you cum just from this,” he muttered, voice rough as his cock dragged against your clit with every grind. “Gonna fill you up, have you milking my cock while I suck these pretty tits dry.”

Sylus didn't just love your tits—he worshiped them. And he made damn sure you knew it.

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