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safination · 3 months ago

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Mistletoe Deal

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor, Established Relationships, Soft Alastor, P in V, Cockwarming, Oral Sex (f! Receiving) [TLDR: After seven years, Alastor finally decides to show himself to you. He can't stay for very long, but maybe a deal underneath the mistletoe could buy you a night with him, and him alone.] AN: Happy Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoy my litter offering for the winterfest event at @voxtekinc is hosting. Gosh, smut is so much harder than I thought it was. This isn't my best work, because I know I could do better but the holiday rush got to me, so this is all I've got T_T. Please, do enjoy, and don't forget to tell me what you think. This is my first smut huhu please be gentle with me <3

Alastor stands before you after seven, long years.

This is the first time you’ve seen him since he left. You heard about his stints in the news. The countless ways he’s defended the Hazbin Hotel in such big displays of power, and of course, his whole duet with Vox. It’s almost . . . as if he was being loud on purpose, as if it was a way to announce his presence.

There’s a part of you that hoped this was his way of calling out, that he would visit soon, but Alastor never did.

Alastor takes the open seat on the porch steps, staring straight at the dark, red night.

There must be a Christmas party happening in the Hazbin Hotel. It’s the only plausible reason why he’s wearing a dress suit, complete with a red vest, and a proper tail-coat. His hair is slicked back. Alastor only ever slicks it back for formal parties.

The nightgown you’re wearing suddenly feels a little bit underdressed.

You stay silent, upholding the silence that’s lasted for seven years.

You wrap the blanket closer around your shoulders, sitting as still as possible on the porch steps. There’s that small voice saying Alastor might disappear if you move.

There’s a sense of contentment. It’s weird, but in a funny way that always seems to arise with Alastor. You’ve imagined this day since the moment Alastor left: what you would say, what you would feel, what you would do.

Anger.

Irritation.

Sadness.

Questions— so many questions. Why? Why? Why why why why whywhywhywhwy? Why, Alastor?

None of your questions seem to matter right at this moment with Alastor sitting next to you. He’s so close that you can feel the heat of him despite the blanket. He’s so close that you can hear the breath he takes, and the distinct smell of alcohol. He’s so close, yet you do not dare move closer.

See? Weird in a funny way.

Yet, as Alastor watches the stars, you’re stuck watching him as if he was your own personal star. All you can think about is how the night air blows the strands of his hair. How he looks ahead of you with the same smile he’s always worn.

It’s silent for a long time — a very, very long time . . . until the slow rustle of clothes. Alastor slides his tail-coat off his shoulders, carefully removing it until they’re off his long arms. He folds it in front of him, fiddling with the lapels. It’s almost funny how unsure he looks.

Alastor leans closer, and your skin prickles from the heat. He pulls the blanket around your shoulders, securing them to protect you from Hell’s cruel and cold night until warmth itself settles straight into your bones.

Alastor presses one, single kiss on your cheek. “Merry Christmas, dearest.”

He wraps his coat around your shoulders, and it’s even warmer than the blanket.

Alastor stays silent, even as he stands to leave.

No – not again.

Your hands reach out to grab him before you fully think about it. It’s instinct, plain and simple, instinct.

There’s surprise that flickers in his eyes. How silly of him to have such a look on his face. It’s almost insulting. What is seven years compared to the decades you’ve had together, or the decades you will have together?

Alastor relents to the silent command, sitting next to you once more. His fingers trace the ring you’ve always worn, and it’s as if he’s surprised you’re still wearing it. Now that . . . that’s insulting.

How silly.

How absolutely silly.

You take the other edge of the blanket, and wrap it around his shoulder. It forces him to press even closer than before.

“You have a talent for insulting me without having to say a word, dearest.” You lean on his shoulders, nuzzling straight into him. “Do you think my vows to you are so weak that seven years would make a difference?”

There’s still that insulting uncertainty in the way he reaches out, but you meet him halfway, leaning your cheek into his hand until his hold becomes confident. Alastor swipes your cheek with his thumb. “Is this much better?”

“Indeed.”

Silence rises once more, but it’s comfortable. There’s so much you want to say, and even more you want to do, . . . but . . . but Alastor traces the back of your hand oh, so softly, careful not to pierce you with his claws. You settle into his hold, enjoying this little bubble of a moment.

The tips of your claws trace the likes of his red vest. “Are you going to stay?”

“I . . ..” Alastor’s ears flicker before they press to the back of his head. “I can’t.”

“Alastor.” There’s more you want to say, but the words catch on his name. “Alastor . . . Alastor.”

“Yes, my dear?” Alastor smiles at you, answering your call for him.

Oh . . . It’s been years since you called out his name, and received an answer.

“Don’t leave me tonight,” you say, plain and simple, even as your arms betray your desperation. They snake around his waist, holding him closer to you. “You can leave before the sun rises. If that’s too late you can leave as soon as I fall asleep.”

Alastor touches your face, smoothening whatever expression you seem to be making. “So much fussing,” he says. “Stop making such a face, cher.”

“Then, take responsibility,” you tell him, leaning into his touch. “You’ll be too busy to call me about your safety, and I’ll have to wait until the news reports of the next attack to see if you’re alive. I’ll have to wait the entire time, worrying about you.”

“You’re forgetting who I am.” Alastor laughs at you.

“And you’re forgetting who you are to me,” you say, chuckling a little. “Why should I be subjected to such torture for you?”

Alastor laughs at you again, and his eyes bulge as he does. He takes your hand, pulling it closer to him with a smile that shows off the yellow in his teeth, and presses his lips on the ring around your finger.

Well, that’s certainly an answer to your question.

“It’s impossible to deny you when you’re making such a face.” Alastor smiles down at you, brushing his fingers down your cheek. It’s such a small gesture that means the world to you. “Shall we make a deal?”

“If it ensures you’ll stay tonight,” you tell him as Alastor tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Alastor snaps his fingers, and magic pools above you, conjuring something above. Oh . . . it’s a mistletoe. It dangles above your heads, swaying from the chill of Hell’s night air.

“Just one of these shall do.” Alastor brushes his thumb across your lips. “Just one from you, and I’ll stay until the night lasts, and not a second before.”

You lean even closer, pressing your forehead against his. Alastor’s here. He’s really here.

The first kiss goes on his cheek, and it lingers far longer than it should. The next one goes on his other cheek. His nose. His forehead. The edges of his lips. It’s foul to tease him like this, but you do so anyway.

You brush your lips across his, and finally, finally, give Alastor a proper kiss. It’s still the same soft and chapped lips as you remember. It’s all still the same.

Alastor brushes his thumb across your cheek, and your eyes flutter to a close.

The deal was for one, but you press kiss after kiss after kiss until there's no denying that you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal. Alastor has to stay for as long as the night lasts.

“I think this is my favorite Christmas tradition yet,” you say, a small but happy smile on your lips. “Merry Christmas, dearest.”

Alastor laughs, snapping the blanket and coat away, and steals one last kiss from your lips. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”

The door opens with a click, yet your hands are still around the metal. There’s no reason to be nervous, but your hand refuses to open the doorknob.

Alastor reaches from behind, wrapping his hand around yours. The warmth of his hold transfers to your skin. Such a simple gesture, yet it tethers you next to him. “My dear, shall we go inside together?”

It’s the way he said it, ‘together.

There’s a small smile on your lips that you don’t remember smiling. That’s the thing with Alastor—just being with him brings out joy that blooms across your face. The door opens with a twist of the knob.

Together – that’s how you and Alastor open the door, and that’s how it should be.

It’s . . . home. It’s been home for a very, very, long time even during the lonely nights you didn’t want them to be. These traces he left always seemed to haunt you.

The scattered radios across the shelves, the grand piano in the other room, and the clutter of stained broadcasting scripts; these will always be home.

Alastor slides into your field of vision with a cheery smile, and boops your nose. You almost succumb to that sweet calling of biting off that finger for such an audacity. “What’s going on inside that pretty, little head of yours – something ridiculous, perhaps?”

Pretty.

A pleased smile grows on your lips. It’s there despite the mix of praise and carefully hidden insults your husband likes to throw in for good fun.

“An answer, please.” He flicks the tip of your nose.

You swat his hand away.

Alastor rubs the back of his hand with a click of his tongue. “Come on, now, don’t be shy. I’m here to blow away any ridiculous thought of yours.”

“There’s nothing ridiculous about it,” you say. “I think . . .”

For the first time in seven years. . . it’s not just you in this house, and the wounds that haunt you begin to heal from the traces of you and him.

There’s a wedding photo that shows you and Alastor. It’s propped up in a way that you and Alastor can see it over morning coffee.

There’s a book that Alastor reads out loud while you do some threadwork. It’s mindlessly thrown across a coffee table that has two distinct mug stains that sit next to each other.

“I was thinking about the living room.” You grab his hand, pressing one, single kiss over his ring. “That’s all there is.”

Alastor’s smiling at you. “And what do you see when you look at our living room?”

You and him.

Him and you.

The evidence is already there.

“I see us.” You squeeze his hand. “Me and you – right here, together.”

Alastor squeezes back with a smile, and crashes you straight into his arm with a hug. Your nose hits his chest, but you stay within his hold. The faint metallic scent of alcohol mixed with Alastor, and you cannot pull away. Not from him – never from him.

His hand travels up your back, ghosting over your neck until he cradles your head with an oh, so soft grasp.

“Al?” You tap on his bicep. “Al . . . Alastor!”

“Yes, dear?” He leans his full weight on you, not caring if you’re able to withstand the force of his body. “That is, indeed, my name.”

“Heavy! You’re too . . . heavy,” you wheeze out, and plant your feet on the floor. “Sweetheart, you’re going to fall!”

“Dearest, you keep forgetting who your husband is.” Alastor squeezes tighter, pressing you deeper into him with a hearty laugh. “As if I would ever let you go. We’re falling together.”

Your knees shake from the weight, and it’s that sheer will to stay upright that keeps you standing, even as Alastor goes limp in your hold.

He cradles your head in his hold, brushing the back of your neck with his thumb . . . before pushing you with his hips, knocking you over. A small groan escapes when your knees give out, and you collapse on top of Alastor, your nose hitting his chest.

There’s that small voice in your head. It fans the flames of irritation, but, well, Alastor took the brunt of the land. He cushions your body with his own, and it’s the only reason why you’re sprawled on his chest and not on the cold, hardwood, floor.

It’s simple, even when it’s not supposed to be, because all annoyance gets thrown out the window.

His eyes flutter to a close when he leans into your hand. There are no words, but everything that has to be said is already there.

Up the stairs, across the hallway, and into the bedroom, all done hand in hand.

The lights flick open and . . .oh. You and Alastor are between these walls as well.

There it is again, that ever present, ‘two’. Two sets of pillows are tuck at the head of the bed. Two different alarm clocks facing each other on the nightstand. There’s only one blanket, but its thick corners are spread across two sides of the bed.

It’s you and him in this space. Together — as it should be.

How were you able to endure seven years with just the traces of Alastor to accompany you through the night? It doesn’t matter, at least for tonight, not when he agreed to stay.

Alastor changes into his pajamas. It’s still in the same place it’s been for the last seven years. If he has questions about it, Alastor keeps them to himself.

You finally settle into the bed, watching Alastor crawl underneath the covers. It’s automatic, instinctive even, to press yourself into his chest.

Alastor settles a hand on your waist, pressing his cheek on the crown of your head. His thumbs go up and down and up and down, tracing small patterns into your nightgown.

You press your lips on his collarbone, and Alastor responds with a kiss to your forehead. It’s such a soft gesture that it compels you to trace your lips all over the lines of his shoulder, and hold him as close to you as possible.

There’s this nagging voice that’s fueling the need to feel him. You need to feel his skin underneath your touch. You need to feel the heat of his body, every inch of it, right now.

But that blasted shirt is getting in your way.

The buttons of his pajamas dig into your cheek. It’s annoying. So, fucking, annoying. It’s getting in the way. This blasted cloth is preventing you from fully feeling Alastor.

You reach for the button of his shirt, but Alastor catches your wrist before you could reach the first one. “It’s annoying me,” you say, grumbling as you tug on your wrist. “I want it off.”

Alastor releases your wrist, and presses a hand to his face, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Do as you wish.”

The way he smiles drives you a little bit more insane. You start at him, blinking as you do, and rip open the buttons of his pajamas, exposing the light fluff on his chest.

Alastor crosses his arms over his chest, reeling away with a hearty laugh. “How uncouth of you, dearest.”

“Seven years and you’ve turned shy on me.” You laugh as well. “I’ve already seen every— “

Oh . . .oh.

So, that’s why Alastor tried to stop you. Scars are dime a dozen on his body, and you’ve worshipped every, single one, but that was new. There’s a long slash on his chest that obviously wasn’t there seven years ago. You’re intimate with all the marks on his body, but not this one.

You trace the scar with your lips, trailing soft kisses down the line.

“I heard what happened,” you say, whispering against the fur on his chest. A soft sigh escapes when you can finally feel the heat on his skin. “I was listening to your broadcast that day. You gave me quite the fright, Alastor.”

“I wasn’t aware you were listening.”

“I never stopped.” You press kiss after kiss after kiss on this new scar, and each word you say brushes your lips on him. “Our radios are constantly on, waiting until the static stops, and your broadcast fills the air.”

Alastor shudders underneath your attention. He tilts your chin with the tips of his fingers. Those eyes of his stare straight into yours with that oh, so soft look in him.

You press a kiss on the edge of his lips, teasing him for good fun.

Alastor huffs at you, jerking your chin to face him. His forehead rests against yours for more than a second. Chapped lips trace across your own, brushing them with such a familiar tenderness. Alastor captures your lips into a kiss.

The soft fur on his chest tickles your palms, and a small giggle escapes you. There’s fur all over your husband! He’s part deer, complete with antlers and a tail. Oh, what a silly afterlife you’re living.

Alastor snakes his arms around your waist, guiding you back towards the mattress. There’s a smile on him when he settles above you.

The kiss travels from your cheek to your lips until he’s nibbling on the bottom. It’s a silent command to part them, and one that you eagerly follow. Alastor inserts his tongue into your wet mouth, sliding it around with rhythmic swirls as he tastes the inside.

You run your hands across his shoulder and down his back. A small hum when he leaves a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and into your neck.

Alastor reaches for the straps of your nightgown, pulling it lower until your breasts are fully exposed to the dim night. His hot breath hovers above your nipple, and it tingles the sensitive skin

A small gasp escapes when Alastor latches onto your nipple, licking and nibbling around the sensitive bud. Alastor presses his shard teeth hard enough to leave a mark . . . and well, you can’t help but jump as pain morphs into a familiar pleasure that dampens your underwear further.

He detaches from your nipple with a slight pop. A thin line of saliva bridges his tongue and your breast.

And . . . huh.

When did Alastor raise your nightgown? You weren’t aware of his fingers playing with the band of your underwear until he was tugging on it, asking for permission.

There’s a dangerous look on his face that has you clenching around nothing. A simple nod —that’s all you’re able to give. There’s nothing really else to do but give him the permission he’s been waiting for, especially as he watches you with that glint in his eyes.

Alastor’s fingers catch on the band of your underwear. He’s watching every twitch of your eyebrows, every heavy rise and fall of your breasts. Your underwear slips lower and lower.

He lifts your hips high enough that he’s able to pull the thing down your legs, and thrown somewhere irrelevant. They’re not needed for tonight, it seems.

Alastor takes your leg, worships it with soft nibbles that trail higher and higher and higher.

Your legs try to close together, but Alastor’s hold is too firm.

“Seven years, and you’ve turned shy on me.” Alastor pushes your knees even further apart. He rewards the inside of your thigh a little kiss when you don’t try to fight him. “It’s just me, cher.”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice. “Not exactly my fault,” you grumble, kicking him a little. “It’s been . . . It’s been a while.”

His smile widens. “Then I shall refamiliarize you.”.

Alastor doesn’t bother waiting for your reply, diving straight into your folds. His wet tongue swirls between your folds with agonizing slowness. You stiffen a moan, clutching the bed sheets as he continues to lap around them.

His tongue swirls around your clit, and your legs try to close, even as a small, breathy moan escapes. Alastor presses your thighs apart with more firmness than before. He anchors a leg on your shoulder, biting down on the fat as punishment. The tips of his tongue swirl around the bite mark.

“It really has been a while.” Alastor smiles up at you, mischief in his eyes, and presses a kiss right on top of his bite. “I’ll excuse your earlier eagerness. I’ve been neglecting you for far too long.”

You try to push your nightgown a little lower. It’s funny how shy you’ve suddenly become under his gaze.

“Don’t laugh. I didn’t. . . .” The words are hard to find, especially when he marks you with another bite while waiting for a response. “Alastor, I . . . I didn’t ask you to stay for this.”

He presses on your leg, bending you when he leans closer to chase a kiss from your lips. “You seduce me with your words, and say this isn’t what you were planning from the beginning.” He licks a path up your cheek. “Yet the buttons on my shirt are broken.”

You press a hand on his chest. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Very well,” he says, laughing at you. “One word from you, and I shall stop.”

Silence.

Alastor smiles at you, and takes the silence as the answer it is. He pulls your hips closer, diving straight down to slurp the slick from your cunt. The sudden jolt of stimulation forces your back to arch, and your hand finds his head, gripping his hair a little.

Half of his face is covered, but he’s looking so intently at you that it’s hard to look away.

Your eyes close as he pulls you even closer, swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit. Small gasps escape from your mouth as Alastor inserts his tongue into you.

Alastor plays with your folds before inserting a finger. A shudder runs straight up your spine.

“A-Al . . .,” you gasp out, thighs trembling when he massages that already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Ah!”

A familiar tight coil builds its tension. So much so that you’re meeting him halfway, grinding down on his face. You’re so close. Heat travels down your stomach, tingling every nerve of your body. You need . . .

“More.” It comes out like a greedy whine. “Please . . . I’m . . . I’m so clo— Ah!”

Alastor sucks on your clit, before inserting another finger. A loud moan tears through your throat. The sound mixes with squelching of your fluids to create such an indecent sound.

These seven years have not diminished his knowledge of your body. Alastor is using everything he knows to his advantage, easily playing you like a kazoo.

There’s that look in his eyes again — that glint that promises danger. Your legs wrap around his neck, and you pull him tighter to you, cushion him with the plump of your thighs. Alastor’s smile grows wider, and he sucks harder on your clit. The coil in your belly finally, finally snaps.

Your orgasm rushes out like a flood, and Alastor laps it all up like a thirsty Sinner. The fingers around your hips dig into the skin, pulling you closer even as your bud toes that line of overstimulation.

Alastor releases your cunt, and a line of saliva connects his tongue to you. The evidence of your release stains his mouth. His tongue licks around his lips, and a pleased smile grows on his face.

“You taste really sweet, cher.” Alastor rises higher, worshiping your body with trails of kisses up your stomach. It tickles a little. He captures your lips, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. There’s nothing sweet about what you taste.

The tips of your nails trace this new scar, running it along the length of his chest. You’re intimately familiar with the scars painting his chest. This one won’t be different—all you need is time, and eternity offers plenty.

Your fingers trail lower, breaching the band of his pajamas to pull him out. Alastor’s cock twitches as you massage that little bit of pre-cum around his head.

His head tilts back as a moan releases from his lips, but Alastor grabs your wrist, stopping you from going any lower. “We wouldn’t want to waste it,” he says. “It would be a shame to do so.”

You squeeze the length of his cock one last time before releasing him. “Next time, then.”

“Next time.”

Alastor leans closer, trailing his nose on the expanse of your neck before pressing a kiss and nibbling on the skin. His tongue swirls around the marks his sharp teeth leave, and it almost distracts you from the way he aligns the head of his cock, swirling it around to lubricate himself.

Alastor breaches your entrance, stretching your walls with such a slow pace that you would consider it a punishment of some sort. He takes his time as if letting your walls feel every inch of him until he’s bottomed out.

“Alastor . . . wait,” you say, sighing as you feel him inside your walls, and rub on his shoulders to grab his attention. “Just . . . wait.”

Alastor jerks away, but you wrap your arms around his neck before he could fully slip out of your cunt. The sudden force of your arms causes him to collapse on top of you.

A small groan escapes both your lips when he crashes on your breast. Despite the soft cushion, there’s a distinct twitch in his eye that makes you laugh.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Alastor glances up at you, face buried between your breast, and reaches out to tuck away a bit of hair from your face.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You hold him closer, tightening your embrace to pull him deeper into your chest. The weight of him grounds you, even as the words you want to say jostles in your throat. “I just . . .”

“Then, tell me what’s on your mind,” Alastor tells you, cock still inside. “Don’t lie to me, not to me – never to me.”

The base of his hooves presses against your ankles. The fur on his chest tickles your stomach with every breath he takes. His fingers are tracing small circles on your shoulder. Everything about him shoots waves of high frequency to your skin. You’re so keenly aware of everything about it that it becomes almost overwhelming.

“It’s you, Alastor,” you say, brushing a finger across his cheek, stifling a groan when his cock throbs inside you. “You’re on my mind. It’s just . . . ”

There’s so much you want to tell him, and so much more you want him to hear. It’s Alastor who’s always had the talent with words, and it's strikingly evident how incompetent you are when the words refuse to even form.

How do you begin to describe the heavy beating of your chest?

Instead, you trail your hand down the expanse of his arm, until you’re pulling his hand closer to your lips. One, single kiss across the ring around his finger. It holds everything you want him to hear, but do not know how to say.

Alastor’s hips buckle, driving his cock deeper into your walls. The sudden feeling of his cock stretching even further forces your nails to dig into his skin.

He chuckles a little, grunting a small apology as he presses his lips on your cheek, and then to the other side. Alastor preppers your face with his lips, kissing you just as slowly, just as tenderly as the way he entered you. It’s less hungry, and less consuming.

There’s nothing to worry about, after all. Alastor always seems to understand you better than yourself.

“I was waiting for you. That's why I was outside in the cold.” You brush your fingers across the expanse of his jaw, using the tip of your nail to tilt his chin. “You didn’t come for me.”

Alastor leans lower to chase your lips into a kiss, but you grab a fistful of the back of his hair, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“You don’t come for me either.” Alastor groans as you tighten the grip on his hair, exposing his neck to you. “I put on such a grand show that day, hoping you were listening. That blasted picture box took a picture of me, and I allowed it to be taken for you, and only you.”

“I guess we were both fools waiting on each other.” You trace your fingers over the expanse of his smile. “Alastor . . .”

His smile widens. “Yes, my dear?”

“Alastor.” You press your finger into his lips, slipping into his mouth. “Alastor.”

Alastor twirls his tongue around the tip, nibbling the skin as he bobs his head. He releases your finger, and a bridge of saliva trails across. “Yes, dearest?”

The way he responds . . . it causes you to clench around him. It’s been so long, too long, since you heard him respond to your calls.

You brush your lips across his before chasing him into a kiss, moaning into it when Alastor rocks his hips into you. The way he drags his cock across your wall, slow and tender, forces you to hide your face into the crook of his shoulder.

“Alastor.” You drag your teeth across his shoulder, nipping at the skin.

“I’m right here,” he says. “I’m never leading again.”

Alastor’s hips press against yours, sliding across your walls. He inserts himself slowly, sliding with purpose as if making sure to give each and every sensitive nerve his attention.

A moan tears itself out of him when you bite down on his shoulder, just the way you know he enjoys it. He’s not the only one who’s knowledge hasn’t diminished.

Every movement he makes you keenly aware of him.

“Alastor.”

“I’m never letting you leave my side again,” Alastor says, chasing your lips into a kiss. “I’m staying right here with you, dearest.”

That wasn’t the deal, and you both know it. Just before the sun rises, Alastor will be allowed to leave and not a second before. If Alastor could already take you, he already would have done so. You know how to read between the lines.

There’s a reason why he didn’t come for you, and that’s the very reason why you didn’t come for him, despite knowing he was calling out for you.

Right now . . . that doesn’t really matter. That same tight coil builds around you. Alastor pounds waves of pleasure into you, playing you like one of his instruments, and you sing into the air for him. The squelching sounds accompany your voice like a symphony.

“You and me, and me and you – for eternity.” Alastor holds you closer, hitting that sensitive spot. “I’m done breaking my vow.”

The words he whispered into your ear are the final nail to the coffin. You pull him even closer to you as the coil of pleasure snaps, shooting frequencies as you come undone in his arms.

Alastor chases his own release, practically rutting himself inside with sloppy strokes. You run your hands down his sweat-stricken back, feeling the fur that runs along his skin. You reach for the base of his tail, squeezing it between your fingers.

His cock spasms inside, shooting seeds to paint you with the evidence of his pleasure. The sound he makes causes you to clamp down on him.

There’s a distinct glare in his eyes as he continues to draw himself out, but none of you can deny that it’s his cum that’s slipping out your cunt, and mixing with the pool of fluids below.

It takes a moment, but your breathings eventually calm as you search for it. Alastor only pulls you closer, even as he softens inside. You press kiss along his face, laughing as Alastor’s breath tickles your skin.

“My dearest, Alastor.” You press a kiss on the edge of his lips. “Will you keep answering me?”

“As long as you keep calling for me,” he says, tracing your lips with a smile, “I’ll never stop answering you.”

The rest of the night goes something like this: tangled limbs under the covers, and gentler caresses with even gentler kisses. Eventually, soft snores replace hushed whispers of conversation.

The night ends.

The sun rises above the horizon, and . . . and well, it rises to two sleeping bodies who hold each other oh, so softly.

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aquamarixx · 5 months ago

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breaking the internet

blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, angst, fluff

SYNOPSIS

Hiori Yo may be one of Bastard München’s most technically gifted players, but he’s hardly the most popular. Stoic, soft-spoken, and an unapologetic introvert, Hiori’s tactical and supportive play style tends to get overshadowed by his flashier, extroverted teammates. Fame was never his goal—until, unexpectedly, it finds him.

When a mid-season slump raises doubts about the team’s future, an insightful article by an up-and-coming sports journalist shines a new light on his understated brilliance and strategic approach. Her piece goes viral, drawing fresh interest in both the team and Hiori, and challenges the flashy “egoist” narrative with a deeper look at his impact.

As her articles captivate fans and bring unexpected attention to Hiori, their interactions both on and off the field spark a fan-fueled fascination. Their chemistry is undeniable, to say the least, and Bastard München’s marketing team jumps on the opportunity of pairing them in official content.

What begins as a mere marketing tactic quickly becomes more personal. As their chemistry continues to captivate fans, Hiori finds it harder and harder to ignore the person who believed in him before anyone else did. He wants her to keep watching him, to see the player he’s becoming — and for the first time, he doesn’t mind the attention.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s not the only one getting caught up in the unexpected connection under the eyes of the world who’s watching, waiting and hoping for something more.

CHAPTER LIST (ongoing)

chapter one (1.6k words) after Bastard München's third loss, Hiori Yo finds a spark of hope in a warm, unexpected article by a cute keen-eyed journalist

chapter two (2.6k words) Hiori discovers Miss Journalist might be a loyal fan of his — and learns the hard way that stalking someone on Winstagram can quickly get complicated.

chapter three part 1 Miss Journalist follows the day-in-the-life of Bastard München for the midseason promos, unexpectedly bringing her closer to Hiori in ways she didn’t anticipate.

chapter three part 2 after one video and a candid photo, Miss Journalist and Hiori go viral as their chemistry together off-camera stirs up unexpected fan attention, leaving them both wondering what’s next.

chapter four (5.3k words) a whirlwind of chaos and laughter turns into something much more when Miss Journalist and Hiori Yo can't ignore the spark between them any longer.

chapter five (4.1K words) a win turns bittersweet for Hiori when the person he wants to share it with the most seems just out of reach—as he sees Miss Journalist running towards someone else.

chapter six (5.1k words) a series of misunderstanding and lack of communication finally leads Hiori and Miss Journalist to talk, once and for all.

chapter seven (4.9k words) Hiori and Miss Journalist share more than just a passionate night, opening up about their relationship and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

chapter eight (3.9k words) when some clout chaser claims to be the mystery girl in the photo, Hiori shuts down the rumors and teases about the girl who truly has his heart

chapter nine (6.6k words) sparks fly as Hiori finds himself with unexpected realizations and plenty of "oh" moments, proving that love and self-discovery often come hand in hand.

chapter ten

chapter eleven

author's notes: i have hiori yo brainrot for weeks now. and i just have to get this out of my system because i fear for the lack of hiori fanfics for my himejoshis out there (if there are any huhu) it is a very lengthy synopsis so bear with me, it's my first time writing a fanfic will update the chapter list as soon as i have the energy to finish it

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #hiori yo #hiori yo x reader #bllk x reader #bllk hiori yo #hiori yo x reader fanfic #bllk #bllk x you #bllk fanfic #blue lock fanfic

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starskq · 9 months ago

Text

FAMILY / J.Y

Pairing ◊ fem!reader x yunho

Genre ◊ VERRYYYY SUGGESTIVE, toe curling fluff, established relationship

Warnings ◊ VERRYY SUGGESTIVE, yunho is a bit of a tease here, dirty talk, softdom!yunho, yunho is just so soft, mention of marriage and kids, mention of family (grandparents, uncles, cousins, siblings, parents, etc.)

Word count ◊ 8,2k

Summary ◊ You and Yunho had been dating for a few years, and it was time for you to introduce him to your family.

a/n: I love yunho with my whole heart, and i kept giggling while writing this huhu. Enjoy!

You sat on the couch, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. The room was warm, the soft hum of the heater filling the silence. You had been thinking about this moment for days, rehearsing in your head how you would bring it up to Yunho. The invitation to your mom's birthday was tucked away in your purse, a constant reminder of the conversation you needed to have.

Yunho walked into the living room, a cheerful smile lighting up his face as he plopped down beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Hey, babe," he said, his voice as bright and warm as his smile. "What's up? You seem a bit on edge."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Yunho, I need to talk to you about something."

His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he tilted his head, a puppy-like expression that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. "Sure, anything. What's on your mind, love?"

You reached into your purse, pulled out the invitation, and handed it to him. He took it, glancing down at the elegant script on the front. "An invitation?" he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"It's for my mom's birthday," you explained, your voice trembling slightly. "She and the rest of my family have invited us to spend the weekend at my childhood house."

Yunho's face lit up with excitement. "That sounds amazing! I'd love to meet your family and see where you grew up." He leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours. "But why do you look so nervous about it, sweetheart?"

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. "It's just... we’ve been together for a few years now, but I haven't had the chance to introduce you to my family yet. We live so far away; this is the first real opportunity to do it."

Yunho's expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. "Hey, it's okay. I understand. It's a big step, but I'm really excited about it. I want to meet the people who mean so much to you."

You looked into his eyes, finding comfort in his unwavering gaze. "I guess I'm just worried. What if they don't like you? What if it's awkward?"

He chuckled softly, his laughter a soothing balm to your anxious heart. "Babe, your family is going to love me. How could they not? I'm very lovable." He gave you a playful wink, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I know you are," you said, smiling despite yourself. "But it's still a little scary."

Yunho pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapped securely around you. "We'll face it together, okay? And no matter what happens, I'll be right there by your side."

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. "Thank you, yuyu. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. "You don't have to worry about that, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the warmth of his embrace chasing away your fears. When you finally pulled back, Yunho's eyes were bright with excitement. "So, when do we leave for this big family weekend?"

"Next Friday," you said, your voice steadier now. "We'll drive down after work."

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Perfect. I've got a whole week to plan how to charm your family."

You laughed again, the sound lighter this time. "You don't need to plan anything, Yunho. Just be yourself. That's more than enough.’’ He kissed you gently, his lips soft against yours. You really had the best boyfriend ever.

Friday arrived pretty quickly, quicker than you anticipated. You loaded the last of the bags into the trunk of the car, taking a deep breath as you closed it. Yunho was busy adjusting the GPS, and his usual cheerful demeanor made the process seem more fun than it probably was. You climbed into the passenger seat, your nerves still buzzing beneath the surface.

Yunho looked over at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ready to go, sweetheart?" he asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

He leaned over and kissed your cheek. "Don't worry. It's going to be great. We'll have a fantastic time."

As he started the car and pulled out of the driveway, you looked out the window, your mind racing. The drive to your childhood home was long, giving you plenty of time to think. Yunho, always perceptive, sensed your anxiety and reached over to hold your hand, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your skin.

"Tell me more about your family," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "I want to know everything."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Well, my mom is amazing. She's warm and caring but can be a bit overprotective sometimes. She's been looking forward to meeting you ever since I told her about us."

Yunho smiled, his eyes focused on the road. "She sounds wonderful. I can't wait to meet her."

"And my dad," you continued, "he's a bit more reserved, but once he warms up to someone, he's really funny and kind. He loves talking about his hobbies, especially fishing and gardening."

"Fishing and gardening got it," Yunho said with a nod. "I'll have to brush up on my knowledge about those."

You laughed, feeling a bit lighter. "He'll appreciate that. Then there's my younger sister, Mia. But you already know her."

‘’Yeah, I remember. The future artist." Yunho said with a playful grin.

You smiled. Your lilttle sister and Yunho already met when she came to visit you during a weekend. You knew they got along great, so you did not worry about that. ‘’And my older brother, Daniel, he's a bit of a jokester. He likes to tease, but it's all in good fun. He's really protective, though, so don't be surprised if he tries to give you a hard time at first."

"I can handle a bit of teasing," Yunho said confidently.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "And then there's my extended family. My Uncle John and Aunt Clara, they practically raised me alongside my parents. Uncle John loves sports, especially baseball, and Aunt Clara is really into cooking and baking."

"Baseball and baking, got it. I think I can manage," Yunho said, his tone light and reassuring.

"And there are my cousins, Sam and Emily. They're twins, a few years younger than me. They're both really outgoing and love to have fun. They might drag you into some of their crazy plans. And my grandparents. They are not that old, but they are old school.’’

Yunho laughed, the sound filling the car with warmth. "I look forward to it. Sounds like a lively bunch."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a bit more at ease. "Yeah, they are. I just hope they all like you as much as I do."

Yunho glanced over at you, his eyes filled with affection. "I think they'll love me, but even if they don't, as long as I have you, that's all that matters."

You couldn’t help but smile. He had this capacity with you to make you smile constantly. The rest of the drive was filled with more stories and laughter as you briefed Yunho on your family dynamics and shared memories from your childhood. The closer you got to your old home, the more your nerves settled, replaced by a growing excitement to share this part of your life with Yunho.

Finally, you turned onto the familiar tree-lined street, the house you grew up in coming into view. It looked just as you remembered, the front yard meticulously maintained, the porch swing swaying gently in the breeze. Yunho parked the car and turned to you with a big smile.

"Ready to do this, babe?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine excitement.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. "Yeah, let's do this."

You walked up to the front door with the bags in your hands. It swung open, revealing your mom's warm smile. She stepped out onto the porch, arms wide open. "There you are!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. "We were starting to think you'd forgotten the way home."

You laughed, the sound mingling with the nostalgic scent of your mom's favorite lavender perfume. "Hi, Mom. It's good to see you."

She pulled back, her eyes shining with joy. "It's about time you came to visit. We miss you, you know."

Your dad appeared behind her, his expression softer but equally welcoming. "Yeah, kiddo," he said, giving you a hug after your mom let go.

"I know, I know," you replied, feeling a pang of guilt mixed with happiness. "Life's just been so busy."

"Busy enough to forget your old folks?" your dad teased, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "I could never forget you guys."

Yunho stood behind you, holding a beautifully wrapped gift. He shifted slightly, drawing your parents' attention. "Mom, Dad," you said, stepping aside and gesturing towards him, "this is Yunho."

Yunho took a step forward, a cheerful but slightly nervous smile on his face. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. y/l/n. It's so great to finally meet you."

Your mom's eyes sparkled with curiosity and warmth. "Oh, we've heard so much about you, Yunho. It's lovely to meet you, too."

Yunho extended the gift to her, his hands steady despite the subtle tension in his posture. "I brought this for you, Mrs. y/l/n. I hope you like it."

Your mom's face lit up as she took the gift. "Oh, Yunho, you didn't have to! But thank you so much." She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a beautifully handcrafted vase. "This is gorgeous. Did you pick this out yourself?"

Yunho nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yes, I did. I thought it might go well with the flowers in your garden."

Your dad stepped forward, offering a firm handshake. "Good to meet you, Yunho. And thanks for the gift. It's very thoughtful."

Yunho shook his hand, his grip confident. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. I've heard so many wonderful things about both of you."

Your dad chuckled, glancing at you with a teasing smile. "All good things, I hope?"

Yunho laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. "Absolutely. Y/n always speaks very highly of you."

Your mom looped her arm through yours, leading you both into the house. "Well, we're just glad to finally meet you. And Yunho, please call us by our first names. We're family now."

As you walked through the familiar hallways, the smell of home-cooked food wafting through the air, Yunho leaned closer to you and whispered, "I think that went well, don’t you?"

You squeezed his hand, feeling a rush of affection. "You were perfect," you whispered back.

Your mom placed the vase on the counter in the kitchen, already thinking about which flowers to fill it with. "Yunho, would you like something to drink? We've got lemonade, iced tea, and coffee."

"Lemonade sounds great, thank you," Yunho replied, his smile genuine.

Your dad gestured towards the living room. "Let's sit and chat for a bit before everyone else gets here. I want to hear all about how you two met."

Yunho's eyes met yours, a spark of excitement and slight nervousness in them. "Well, it's a bit of a funny story," he began as you all settled into the comfortable, worn couches.

Your mom handed Yunho a glass of lemonade, and he took a sip before continuing. "We actually met at a coffee shop. Y/n was there with a mutual friend, and I kind of fell in love at first sight."

Your mom's eyes softened as she looked at you. "That sounds just like something out of a movie."

You felt your cheeks warm, embarrassed but happy. "It was pretty special," you admitted.

Your dad leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "And how long have you two been together?"

"Three years now," Yunho said, glancing at you with a look that made your heart flutter. "And they've been the best years of my life."

Your mom reached out to squeeze your hand. "We're so happy for you both. You look so good together."

Yunho beamed, his confidence growing. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."

Your dad nodded in agreement. "Yes, we're glad to see our y/n so happy. And Yunho, you seem like a great fit for our family.’’

As the afternoon sun descended towards the horizon, the rest of your family started to arrive. The doorbell rang, and you felt a familiar rush of excitement. "That must be Mia," you said, standing up. Yunho followed you to the door, eager to meet everyone else.

You opened the door to find your younger sister, Mia, standing there with a wide grin. "Sis!" she squealed, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug.

"Mia!" you responded, hugging her back just as tightly. "I've missed you so much!"

Yunho stepped forward, smiling warmly. "Hey, Mia! Great to see you again."

Mia let go of you and gave Yunho a big hug. "Yunho! It's been a while. How have you been?"

"I've been great," Yunho said, his cheerful demeanor making Mia laugh. "How about you? Still painting up a storm?"

"Always," Mia replied with a wink. "And I've got a new piece to show you guys. I brought some pictures."

You all moved back into the living room, where Mia showed you her latest artwork on her phone. Yunho admired each piece, genuinely interested and supportive, which made Mia proud.

Just then, the front door opened again, and you heard the unmistakable voice of your older brother, Daniel. "Is that my little sister I hear?"

You stood up, a mix of excitement and apprehension in your chest. "Daniel!" you called out, meeting him halfway for a hug.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, his voice warm but his eyes scanning the room. When he spotted Yunho, his expression grew more serious. "And you must be Yunho."

Yunho stood up, extending a hand. "Yes, nice to meet you, Daniel."

Daniel took his hand, his grip firm. "So, you're the guy who's been taking care of my sister."

"That's right," Yunho said, maintaining eye contact and matching Daniel's firmness. "She's very important to me."

He nodded slowly, his gaze scrutinizing. "Well, it's good to finally meet you. Let's see if you can keep up with our family's shenanigans."

Yunho smiled, the challenge in Daniel's tone not going unnoticed. "I'll do my best."

Your mom called everyone to the kitchen, where snacks and drinks were laid out. As you all gathered around the kitchen island, the atmosphere began to relax. Yunho chatted easily with Uncle John about the latest baseball game, and Aunt Clara was already discussing her favorite recipes with him, thrilled to find someone who appreciated good food as much as she did.

Sam and Emily, your cousins, arrived next. They bounded into the house with infectious energy, their laughter filling the room. "Hey, cuz!" Sam called out, pulling you into a hug. "Long time no see!"

"Emily, Sam, it's great to see you guys!" you said, hugging Emily next.

They turned their attention to Yunho, curiosity in their eyes. "So, this is the famous Yunho?" Emily asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"That's me," Yunho replied with a grin. "I've heard a lot about you two."

"All good things, I hope," Sam said, shaking Yunho's hand.

"Definitely," Yunho said, laughing.

Emily nudged Yunho playfully. "We might have to put you through a few tests to see if you can keep up with us."

Yunho's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Bring it on. I'm ready."

As the evening progressed, Yunho fit right in with your family. He joined in on the laughter, participated in the friendly teasing, and even helped your mom in the kitchen, much to her delight. At one point, you found yourself standing back, watching him interact with everyone, and you felt a swell of pride and affection.

The house buzzed with conversation and laughter, the air filled with the comforting smells of your mom’s cooking. Emily nudged you playfully, glancing over at Yunho who was deep in conversation with Uncle John about last night's baseball game.

“You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was so handsome,” Emily whispered, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Seriously, where did you find him?”

You chuckled, feeling a bit of pride. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Emily sighed dramatically. “I need to start hanging out at coffee shops more often.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again, signaling the arrival of your grandparents. You excused yourself and walked over to the door, your heart swelling with affection as you opened it to see their familiar faces.

“Grandma, Grandpa!” you exclaimed, hugging them both tightly. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” your grandpa said, his voice gruff but warm. “Now, where’s this young man I’ve been hearing so much about?”

You guided them into the living room, where Yunho was now chatting with your dad. “Grandma, Grandpa, this is Yunho.”

Yunho stood up, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as he extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir, ma’am.”

Your grandpa took Yunho’s hand, his grip firm as he sized him up. “So, you’re the one courting my granddaughter, eh?”

Yunho swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, sir. I care about her very much.”

There was a tense moment of silence before your grandpa’s face broke into a wide grin. “Well, as long as you keep treating her right, we won’t have any problems.” He clapped Yunho on the back, laughing heartily.

Yunho let out a relieved breath, smiling. “I promise, sir. She means everything to me.”

Your grandma stepped forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. “And such a handsome young man,” she said, patting Yunho’s cheek. “You’re just as charming as she said.”

Yunho’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he laughed nervously. “Thank you, ma’am. You’re too kind.”

As everyone settled back into their conversations, you could see Yunho visibly relaxing. He had navigated through your grandpa’s initial test and won over your grandma with his charm. Your heart swelled with affection and pride.

Your mom called everyone to the dining table for dinner. The table was laden with a feast that your mom had spent hours preparing. As everyone found their seats, Yunho helped your grandma to her chair, earning another appreciative smile from her, before pulling out your chair for you before taking his own seat beside you. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, and you felt a wave of warmth wash over you.

Your dad started the conversation as your mom brought out the dishes. "So, Yunho," he said, leaning forward with interest, "tell us a bit about what you do for a living."

Yunho smiled, glancing at you before answering. "I work as a software engineer. I develop applications and systems for a tech company."

Your dad raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. "That sounds like a challenging job. How did you get into that field?"

"I've always been interested in technology," Yunho explained, his enthusiasm evident. "I started learning to code as a teenager and fell in love with it. I went on to study computer science in college, and I've been working in the field ever since."

"That's fantastic," Uncle John said, nodding appreciatively. "Technology is such a big part of our lives now. You must be very talented."

"Thank you," Yunho said, his cheeks tinting slightly pink. "I enjoy what I do, and it's always rewarding to solve problems and create something useful."

Emily leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, Yunho, what's it like dating my cousin? She's always been a bit of a handful."

You shot her a playful glare, but Yunho laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's never dull, that's for sure. But in all seriousness, she's the most amazing person I've ever met. I'm very lucky to have her in my life."

You felt your heart swell at his words and squeezed his hand under the table. He turned to you with a soft smile, his eyes full of affection.

Mia chimed in, her voice full of curiosity. "Yunho, do you have any hobbies? What do you like to do in your free time?"

"I enjoy a lot of things," Yunho said, his face lighting up. "I like dancing, playing the guitar, and I dabble in cooking, though I'm nowhere near as good as your mom."

Your mom beamed at the compliment. "That's lovely to hear. Maybe we can have a cooking session together sometime."

"I'd love that," Yunho replied sincerely.

Your dad then asked, "What's the most challenging project you've worked on?"

Yunho thought for a moment. "I once worked on a project to develop a new security system for a large corporation. It involved a lot of complex coding and troubleshooting, but in the end, it was very rewarding to see it all come together."

"That's impressive," Daniel said, a hint of respect in his voice. "Security systems are no joke."

Yunho’s natural charm and humor began to shine through as the conversation flowed. He shared funny anecdotes from work and college, making everyone laugh with his witty comments and endearing stories.

At one point, you reached for the bread basket, but before you could, Yunho had already passed it to you, anticipating your need. Your mom noticed and smiled warmly. "You two make a great team," she said.

Yunho grinned, looking at you with adoration. "I try to keep her happy."

"You're doing a wonderful job," your grandma said, her eyes twinkling. "And I have to say, you're quite the catch, Yunho. Handsome, intelligent, and attentive."

Yunho's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that."

As the main course was served, Yunho continued to engage with your family, asking questions about their interests and sharing stories of his own. His attentiveness and genuine interest in getting to know everyone were clear, and your family responded warmly to him.

"Do you play any sports, Yunho?" Sam asked between bites of mashed potatoes.

"I enjoy playing soccer," Yunho replied. "I used to play in a league back in college. It’s a great way to stay active and have fun."

"Soccer, huh?" Uncle John said. "We should have a family match sometime. What do you think, y/n?’’

You laughed. "I'd love that, but you know I'm terrible at sports."

"We'll go easy on you," Daniel teased.

As dessert was brought out, your mom's famous apple pie, the conversation took a more relaxed turn. Yunho leaned closer to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you having a good time, love?’’ he whispered.

You nodded, feeling a rush of affection for him. "Yes. Thank you for being so wonderful."

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. He leaned in, kissing your cheek lightly. "Anything for you."

As everyone settled into dessert, your grandpa cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Yunho," he began, his tone serious but with a twinkle in his eye, "there's something I've been wondering about."

Yunho straightened in his chair, giving your grandpa his full attention. "Yes, sir?"

"When are you planning to ask for my granddaughter's hand in marriage?" your grandpa asked, his eyes moving between you and Yunho with a knowing look.

You felt a wave of heat rush to your face, and you quickly took a sip of your drink, trying to compose yourself. Before you could answer that you were still young and didn’t want Yunho to feel pressured, Yunho spoke up, his voice steady and confident.

"Actually, sir," Yunho said, his eyes meeting your grandpa's without hesitation, "that's in my plans very soon."

You choked on your drink, coughing as you tried to process what he had just said. Yunho reached out to pat your back gently, a smirk playing on his lips. "Careful there, sweetheart," he said, his eyes dancing with amusement.

The room went silent for a moment, everyone looking at Yunho with a mix of surprise and anticipation. Your mom's eyes were wide with excitement, and your dad leaned forward, clearly interested in Yunho's response.

"You've thought about this already?" your grandpa asked, his voice softer now, more thoughtful.

"Yes, I have," Yunho replied, his gaze now shifting to you. His eyes were filled with love and certainty. "I love [Your Name] more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I've been thinking about how to make it special and memorable."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of shock and overwhelming happiness. You looked at Yunho, unable to believe what you were hearing. He gave you a reassuring smile, his hand finding yours under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Your grandma clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Oh, Yunho, that's wonderful to hear! You have our blessing, of course."

Your dad nodded, a proud smile spreading across his face. "It's clear how much you care for her. Just make sure to treat her well, always."

"I promise, sir," Yunho said earnestly. "She means the world to me, and I will do everything in my power to make her happy."

Mia leaned over, her eyes wide with excitement. "This is so romantic! I can't believe this is happening!"

Daniel, who had been watching Yunho closely, finally broke into a grin. "Well, Yunho, it looks like you've got a lot of support here. Just remember, I'm still watching you," he added with a playful wink.

Yunho laughed, his confidence unwavering. "I'll remember that, Daniel."

Your grandpa raised his glass, a gesture that everyone quickly followed. "To Yunho and y/n,’’ he said, his voice filled with warmth. "May your future be filled with love and happiness."

"To Yunho and y/n’’ everyone echoed, raising their glasses in celebration.

You looked at Yunho, your heart bursting with love and gratitude. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "I hope that was okay," he whispered. "I didn't want to put you on the spot, but I wanted your family to know how serious I am about us."

You nodded. "It was perfect," you whispered back. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, his eyes shining with sincerity.

As everyone resumed their conversations, the atmosphere now even more joyous, you realized how truly lucky you were. Yunho had not only won over your family but had also shown you just how deeply he cared.

The evening had wound down, and the dining room was a happy mess of empty plates and half-finished desserts. You and your mom had started cleaning up, bringing dishes into the kitchen and loading the dishwasher. The warm glow of the kitchen lights cast a cozy atmosphere, and the sounds of laughter and conversation from the living room drifted in.

You were at the sink, rinsing off a stack of plates, when you felt familiar arms wrap around your waist. Yunho's chest pressed against your back, and he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Hey, beautiful," he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the tension of the day melt away. "Hey yourself," you replied, smiling. "I didn't realize you were so sneaky."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I couldn't resist. You looked too cute standing here, working so hard."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Well, someone has to clean up this mess. And don't think I didn't notice you charming everyone out there."

"Just doing my best to fit in," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Did it work?"

"You know it did," you said, turning your head to catch his eye. "Everyone loves you. Even Grandpa."

"Grandpa's great," Yunho said with a smile. "But I have to say, your Grandma might be my favorite. She wouldn't stop talking about how handsome I am."

You laughed, shaking your head. "She does have a knack for making people feel special."

Yunho's arms tightened around you, and he nuzzled your neck. "Speaking of making people feel special, how are you holding up? It's been a big day."

You sighed, leaning into his warmth. "It's been amazing. I'm so happy everyone got to meet you. And what you said at dinner... I didn't see that coming."

He smirked, his breath tickling your ear. "I like to keep you on your toes."

"You definitely do," you said, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "But it was perfect. I love you so much."

"I love you too," he whispered, kissing your neck. "And I meant every word. I'm serious about us."

You turned in his arms, facing him. "I know you are. And that makes me so happy."

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. "You make me happy, every single day."

You kissed him softly, feeling the world fade away for a moment. You were lost in the moment, it was usual when you and Yunho kissed. His hands cradled your face, and you felt wrapped up in his love and warmth. The sound of the door swinging open barely registered until you heard a familiar, teasing voice.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” your mom said, her voice filled with amusement.

You broke the kiss, stepping back from Yunho, your face heating up with a blush. “Mom!” you exclaimed, trying to sound more composed than you felt.

Mia stepped into the kitchen behind your mom, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Looks like someone’s getting a head start on the honeymoon,” she teased, winking at you.

You felt your cheeks grow even hotter. “Mia! Seriously?”

Yunho, ever the charmer, grinned at them both. “Just making sure your sister knows how much I appreciate her,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere.

Your mom chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, we can see that. But Yunho, could you help Grandma with her luggage? She’s staying in the guest room, and I think she could use a strong pair of hands.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Yunho said, immediately stepping away and heading towards the living room. “I’ll take care of it right away.”

As he left the kitchen, your mom and Mia turned their full attention to you, their faces lit up with matching grins. “You’ve got yourself a keeper there,” your mom said, her voice full of warmth. “He’s tall, handsome, and so intelligent. What a catch!”

Mia nodded enthusiastically. “And did you see how he just swooped in to help Grandma? Total gentleman.”

You couldn’t help but smile, despite the lingering embarrassment. “Yeah, he’s pretty amazing.”

Your mom gave you a knowing look. “Pretty amazing? Honey, he’s more than that. He’s head over heels for you. The way he looks at you… it’s like you’re the only person in the room.”

“And he’s funny, too,” Mia added, leaning against the counter. “He had everyone laughing all through dinner. You’re really lucky.”

You nodded, feeling a swell of gratitude and happiness. “I know. I feel really lucky to have him.”

Your mom patted your arm affectionately. “You deserve someone who treats you well and makes you happy. And Yunho seems like he’s doing just that.”

Mia nudged you playfully. “So, when’s the wedding? I need to plan my outfit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’’

Your mom’s eyes softened, a look of pride and happiness on her face. “Just remember to take things at your own pace. We’re all here to support you, no matter what.”

Mia wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “And we’ll be the best wedding planning team ever, when the time comes. No pressure, but I’m really looking forward to it.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth and love from your family surround you. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot to know you’re all here for me.”

The evening had finally quieted down. The house was still, save for the occasional murmur of conversation from inside. You stepped out onto the porch, seeking a moment of peace under the stars. The cool night air was refreshing, and the gentle creak of the porch swing was a comforting sound.

You spotted your grandma, wrapped in a cozy shawl, already seated on the swing. She looked up and smiled as you approached. "There you are, dear. Come sit with me."

You settled onto the swing beside her, the familiar scent of her lavender perfume wrapping around you. "Hi, Grandma. I needed a little break from the chaos."

She chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "It’s been quite the evening, hasn’t it? But a wonderful one."

You nodded, feeling a wave of contentment. "It has been. I’m so happy everyone got to meet Yunho. And I’m really glad you like him."

"Like him?" she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Oh, dear, I more than like him. He’s a wonderful young man. You’ve found someone very special."

Your heart swelled with gratitude. "Thank you, Grandma. That means a lot to me. He’s been so amazing, and tonight… it just felt perfect."

She patted your hand gently. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, my dear. Watching you tonight, seeing the way Yunho looks at you… it’s clear how much he loves you."

You blushed, but her words filled you with joy. "I love him too, Grandma. More than I can put into words."

Your grandma smiled, her gaze turning wistful. "Love is a beautiful thing. It’s about finding someone who makes your heart feel at home, who supports you, and who you can share your life with."

You looked at her, feeling a surge of affection. "Like you and Grandpa?"

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with memories. "Exactly like that. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’ve always been there for each other. That’s what matters most."

You squeezed her hand, feeling a deep sense of connection. "Thank you, Grandma. For everything."

She smiled, her expression soft. "I’m just so proud of you, my dear. And I’m thrilled to see you so happy."

Just then, the porch door creaked open, and Yunho stepped out, his eyes searching the dimly lit space. When he spotted you, he smiled warmly. "There you are. I’ve been looking for you."

Your grandma caught the hint immediately. "Well, it looks like I should give you two some time alone." She patted your hand one last time before standing up. "Goodnight, Yunho. Thank you for a lovely evening."

"Goodnight, ma’am," Yunho replied, giving her a respectful nod. "It was a pleasure."

As your grandma made her way back into the house, Yunho walked over to the swing, sitting down beside you. "I missed you," he said softly, taking your hand in his.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I missed you too. It’s been such a wonderful evening."

He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. "It really has. Your family is amazing. And your grandma… she’s something special."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "She really is. She’s always been a source of wisdom and love for me."

Yunho kissed the top of your head, his voice filled with affection. "I can see where you get it from."

The night air felt cool and refreshing as you nestled against Yunho's shoulder on the porch swing. The stars above sparkled, and the soft hum of crickets filled the silence. Yunho's arm around you provided a comforting warmth, and you felt a sense of contentment wash over you.

Yunho broke the silence first, his voice playful. "So, what do you think? Did I pass the family test?"

You laughed softly, looking up at him. "You passed with flying colors. They absolutely adore you."

He smirked, leaning in closer. "Even your Grandpa? I thought he might have been ready to grill me a bit more."

"You handled him perfectly," you said, smiling. "You handled everyone perfectly."

"Well, I had to impress my future in-laws," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You blushed, playfully swatting his arm. "Yunho!"

He laughed, pulling you closer. "What? It’s true. I meant every word I said at dinner. I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted."

You gazed up at him, feeling a rush of emotions. "You’re everything I’ve ever wanted too, Yunho."

He grinned, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. "So, when are we setting the date?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "You’re really jumping ahead, aren’t you?"

"Just planning ahead," he said, winking. "I need to make sure everything is perfect for my perfect girl."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"And you love me for it," he replied, giving you a quick kiss.

You sighed happily, resting your head back on his shoulder. "I do. I really do."

He chuckled, his voice softening. "Seriously, though. I want to make you happy. And I can’t wait to build a life with you."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a swell of love. "You already make me happy, Yunho. More than you know."

He smiled, looking thoughtful for a moment. "So, have you ever thought about what kind of wedding you’d want?"

You blushed again, caught off guard. "Well, maybe a little. Something simple, I think. Surrounded by family and friends. Nothing too extravagant."

"I can see that," he said, nodding. "Simple, but beautiful. Just like you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," you teased, poking his side gently.

He laughed, his eyes shining with affection. "Good to know."

There was a comfortable pause, the swing gently swaying as you both enjoyed the peaceful night. Yunho broke the silence again, his voice teasing once more. "And what about kids? Ever thought about that?"

You felt your cheeks heat up. "Wow, you really are planning everything, aren’t you?"

"Just curious," he said, smirking. "I think you’d be an amazing mom."

You smiled, feeling a warm glow inside. "I think you’d be an amazing dad."

His expression softened, and he kissed your forehead. "I hope so. But one step at a time, right?"

"Right," you agreed, feeling the excitement of the future you both envisioned.

Yunho’s teasing grin returned. "But seriously, I can’t wait to see you in a wedding dress. You’re going to look breathtaking."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You’re too much, Yunho."

"Only for you," he said, his eyes filled with love. "Because you’re worth it."

The porch swing swayed gently as you and Yunho continued to talk, the night wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. Yunho’s arm was still around you, holding you close, his warmth a comforting presence. His teasing smile had faded into something softer, more intimate.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You know,” he began, his voice low and husky, “I’ve been thinking about more than just our future wedding.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his tone. “Oh? Like what?”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “Like what I want to do to you tonight.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Yunho, my whole family is here.”

He didn’t seem deterred. In fact, his playful grin only widened. “That just makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

“Yunho,” you protested weakly, but there was no denying the thrill his words sent through you.

He nuzzled your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. “I’ve been thinking about how beautiful you looked tonight. How much I wanted to pull you into a room and have my way with you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you squirmed slightly in his embrace. “You’re impossible,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky.

“Impossible? Or irresistible?” he teased, his hand gently caressing your arm. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing every inch of you. About hearing you say my name when no one else can hear.”

You bit your lip, trying to stay composed. “Yunho, seriously, we can’t do this here.”

He laughed softly, the sound full of mischief. “I’m not doing anything. Just talking. But I love seeing you get all flustered.”

You turned to glare at him, but his playful expression melted your resolve. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I know. But you love it.”

You sighed, trying to regain some semblance of control. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear again. “I want you thinking about me all night. About what I’m going to do to you when we’re alone.”

“Yunho,” you whispered, feeling a mix of frustration and arousal. “You’re terrible.”

“Terrible? Or amazing?” he countered, his voice filled with playful confidence.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, despite yourself. “Both.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your neck. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “You should behave. My family is just inside.”

“I am behaving,” he said, feigning innocence. “Just having a conversation.”

You rolled your eyes, but the affection in his gaze made your heart swell. “You’re incorrigible.”

‘’I love you too, babe,’’ he said, chuckling ‘’And I love making you blush.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with warmth. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “I know. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it.”

You kissed him softly, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite his teasing, you knew Yunho was the one for you. And as you pulled back, his playful grin returned, making your heart flutter.

“Now, about those things I want to do to you…” he began, but you cut him off with a laugh.

“Yunho!”

He laughed too, holding you close. “Alright, alright. But just you wait until we’re alone.”

You sighed, smiling despite yourself. “I can’t wait.”

As you sat there together, the night wrapped around you, you knew that no matter how much he teased, Yunho was your perfect match. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

As you and Yunho sat together on the porch, still basking in the playful teasing and warmth of each other's company, you heard the door creak open. Your dad stepped out, his expression a mix of amusement and sternness.

"It's getting late, you two," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Time to call it a night."

You nodded, feeling a bit sheepish. "Okay, Dad. We'll head up."

Yunho stood up, helping you to your feet. "Goodnight, sir," he said respectfully.

"Goodnight, Yunho. Goodnight, sweetheart," your dad replied, giving you a nod before heading back inside.

You and Yunho made your way upstairs to your childhood bedroom, the familiar creak of the stairs under your feet bringing back memories. As you opened the door, Yunho's eyes widened in delight.

"Wow," he said, looking around the room with a wide grin. "This is amazing."

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

The room was exactly as you had left it, with posters of your favorite bands on the walls, a collection of stuffed animals on the bed, and your old vanity table cluttered with trinkets and makeup from your teenage years.

Yunho walked over to your bookshelf, scanning the titles with interest. "You were always quite the bookworm, huh?"

‘’Yeah, those were some of my favorites growing up.’’ You said, smiling, as you walked up to him.

He picked up a well-worn copy of a fantasy novel, flipping through the pages. "I can see why. This looks like a great story."

You watched him fondly, feeling a mix of nostalgia and affection. "It is. I used to stay up all night reading that one."

He put the book back, then turned his attention to your old vanity table. "And this... this is quite the collection." He picked up an old bottle of perfume, sniffing it and wrinkling his nose playfully. "Did you actually wear this?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I did. It was all the rage back then."

Yunho grinned, setting the bottle down. "I can see why. Very... unique."

He moved over to your dresser, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a pair of colorful, frilly underwear. "And what do we have here?" he teased, holding them up with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did you really wear these?"

Your face turned bright red as you snatched them from his hand. "Yunho! Those are from when I was a teenager!"

He laughed, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "They're adorable. You must have been quite the fashionista."

You shoved the underwear back into the drawer, closing it firmly. "Okay, that's enough. Stop snooping."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close. "I’m just teasing, sweetheart. It’s cute. Seeing where you grew up, learning more about you... I love it."

You sighed, leaning into his embrace. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"And you love it," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

"I do," you admitted, turning to face him. "But if you keep teasing me, you might end up sleeping on the floor."

He chuckled, kissing your forehead. "I’ll behave. For now."

You smiled, pulling back to look at him. "Good. Now, let's get some sleep."

As you changed into your pajamas, Yunho continued to explore your room, occasionally commenting on the various items he found. "I can't believe you still have this old teddy bear," he said, holding up a well-loved stuffed animal.

"Mr. Snuggles," you said, smiling. "He’s been with me since I was a baby."

Yunho placed the bear back on the bed, then turned to you with a soft smile. "I’m glad I get to share this part of your life with you."

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "Me too. It means a lot to me."

He kissed the top of your head, then gently guided you to the bed. "Come on, let’s get some rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow."

You climbed into bed, feeling the familiar comfort of your old room. Yunho joined you, pulling the covers over both of you and wrapping his arms around you.

The warmth of his body and the rhythmic sound of his breathing began to lull you into a peaceful state. However, it wasn't long before you felt his lips on your neck, planting soft kisses that made your heart race.

"Yunho," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We should get some sleep."

He chuckled softly, his breath hot against your skin. "I know," he murmured, his hand sliding up your side, "but you just look so irresistible."

You shivered under his touch, trying to keep your voice steady. "Behave, Yunho. My family is just in the next room."

"I'll behave," he promised, but the mischievous glint in his eyes said otherwise.

His hand continued to explore, slipping under your pajama top, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. He pressed himself closer to you, and you could feel his growing arousal against your back. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky.

"Yuyu," you said again, more firmly this time, trying to regain control. "We can't do this here."

He chuckled again, his hand moving to cup your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. "I'm not doing anything," he said innocently. "Just touching you."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as his touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. "Yunho, please."

He didn't relent. Instead, he continued to whisper filthy things in your ear, his voice filled with a dominant edge that made your breath catch. "I can't stop thinking about how good you feel," he murmured. "How much I want to hear you moan my name."

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stay quiet. "Yunho, we can't. My parents—"

"Your parents are asleep," he interrupted, his hand sliding down to your waist. "And even if they weren't, they wouldn't hear a thing if you're quiet."

You felt yourself trembling with desire, torn between wanting him to stop and needing him to continue. "Yunho, please," you whispered, your voice desperate.

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

You bit your lip harder, your breathing becoming more labored. "Please stop," you managed to say, though your body betrayed you, pressing back against him.

"Stop?" he echoed, his hand slipping lower, fingers brushing against your core. "You don't really want me to stop, do you?"

You let out a shaky breath, your resolve weakening. "We can't make noise."

He grinned against your skin. "Then you'll just have to be very quiet," he whispered, his fingers teasing you through your pajamas.

You stifled a moan, your body aching for more. "Yunho, this isn't fair."

"Life's not fair, baby," he said, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Now, be a good girl and stay quiet."

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pemiski · 1 month ago

Text

CUPID’S COMPULSION DISORDER FT R. ITOSHI

Summary Healing isn’t always just physical. As a resident, you’ve always been taught that recovery isn’t only about stitches and surgery—it’s about the mental and emotional journey too. Being prepared to accompany your patient through said recovery has never been a problem for you; not until Rin itoshi, anyway.

Tags fem! surgical resident! reader x pro player! Itoshi rin, corse language, meet-cute, medical lingo, making out, slow burn (hopefully, i tried my best), use of the metric system, character death (not reader or any main character), in depth description of surgical procedures, lots of medical inaccuracies so pls let’s not talk about that, reader wears dresses, makeup and heels, mentions of marriage and children (only at the end, you can skip it if it makes you feel uncomfortable), Oliver aiku is a warning in itself, some good old sibling angst bc character development is just as important as romance, lots of fluff, lots and lots of Greek mythology because i just can’t help myself i love it too much

Word count 24.3k words. That’s 60 pages!

Author’s note however much you think I’m excited and also scared for this to get published you can probably multiply by one zillion. I have spent months writing this, editing over and over and over to gather the courage to finally publish this!! I love this fic with all my heart, particularly because it is home to many firsts of mine, and I sincerely hope you will too! I have never written a fic this long, and even if it might not seem like much to you, this is truly colossal to me. I devoured so many books, watched so many videos and overall learned so much about writing just to make this as entertaining as possible for you to read, and for me to write, and seeing it finally finished is so so bittersweet to me. This is so sappy but I had to say it lol, but lastly before you hit read more, happy reading! (+ disclaimers are down below, please read!)

I am not a doctor, nor am I currently training to be one. Any and all surgical talk in this fic is an unfortunate result of me binge-watching greys anatomy. I did use quizlet and books, but I doubt it makes me legitimate in anything medical lol

Speaking of greys, there are a few Easter eggs from the show in here, couldn’t help myself huhu.. tell me if you can catch them!

Not a disclaimer, but please make sure to reblog and/or comment! Not just for me, but for all content creators on this app! That’s it! Enjoy!

It’s just like one of those stories hospitals collect over the years— two years ago, a first-year surgical resident fell for her patient. The kind of love that had no business in an OR. Everyone remembers how it ended— her hands slipped, he bled out, and she crumbled right there on the floor. This resident, whoever she was, bright and promising, became a legend for all the wrong reasons.

For the next years of her residency, she was a social pariah. Now, her name floats through the hospital like a ghost story. Don’t get attached. Don’t lose focus. And for God’s sake, don’t be like that one resident. Her name has long been forgotten, and no one really talks about her anymore, but her mistake still lingers, a quiet warning in every scrub room and hallway.

Just like any big time gossip in any workplace, they all fold into routine, cautionary tales buried under new scandals. And while everyone remembers what happened to this surgeon, it hasn’t stopped some residents to follow in her footsteps anyway.

The cafeteria buzzes around you, trays clattering, voices blending into a dull hum— mere background noise to your exhaustion. Your focus drifts in and out as you pick at what’s left of your meal. Rounds were a blur, the same routine: tired interns, tired cases, and you, running on fumes. Your ears only caught about half of what was said this morning anyway. Something about a necrotic bowel. Or maybe it was an obstructed one. Whatever it was, it wasn’t interesting enough to wake you up.

You sigh, letting your head fall back slightly. You’ve been in this hospital for nearly 47 hours. Your brain feels like it’s wrapped in cotton, sluggish and heavy. The only thing keeping you going is the promise of that surgery board staying blissfully clear after this one case. If all goes well, you might even get home for a few hours of real sleep.

The interns were amusing at first. Eager, wide-eyed, practically tripping over themselves to impress you. You’d send them on wild goose chases, toss them paperwork, maybe throw one a bone and let them assist a minor surgery. And the coffee was borderline endless. But now? They’ve gone stale. Less enthusiasm, more sulking—especially Frederick, who’s been moping for weeks because he hasn’t touched an appendix.

You shake your head, muttering around a spoonful of almost stale, hospital food. “Seriously, it’s just an appy. It sucks. It’s not like he’s missing out on a heart transplant. Get over it.” You sigh again, pushing the tray away. Even your complaints feel half-hearted. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation.

“Tell me about it. You know Vaughn? Blonde, huge stick up her ass? I really struck gold with that one,” Livy says, leaning back in her chair, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “Talks all the time. She can’t stop!”

“Nice ass though,” Oliver adds with a chuckle, spooning some frozen yogurt into his mouth. His eyes crinkle with mischief, his expression somewhere between casual and amused.

Livy shoots him a sideways glance, clearly unimpressed. “Sure, if you’re the hospital whore. Hey, maybe we should start giving you away to sexually frustrated patients,” she muses, tapping her chin, then gesturing vaguely in the air. “You know the guy in 408? Saw him watching something called ‘Naughty Little Nurses’ on his phone. I’m sure he’d love a naughty little resident.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow, looking less than amused. “He? Forget it.” He grabs his tray, standing up with a frown.

Livy, not one to back down, calls after him. “Aiku! If you bail on that laparoscopy like you did on that lap chole, I’ll kill you!”

Oliver waves her off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, which only makes Livy’s teeth grit. “I’ll kidnap him and lock him in 408’s room. I’ll do it.”

You catch Livy’s eye, raising an eyebrow. “I think his name is Mark.”

Livy shrugs nonchalantly, like she hasn’t already planned every detail. “Well, that’s the least interesting thing about him, isn’t it?”

“It is a good idea though,” you shrug, still facing your half-peeled orange on your tray.

"Right?" Livy gasps, practically vibrating with excitement as she continues to corner you in the cafeteria. Her plan to kidnap Oliver Aiku grows more elaborate by the second, detailing every step of the process in a scarily precise, almost unnervingly detailed way, you start wondering if she’s genuinely thought this through. Would anyone notice? Surely someone would. You can practically hear the sirens in the background as she goes on. Regardless, you’re only half-listening, your thoughts wandering as the clock ticks down to the inevitable.

Before long, it’s time to return to work, and just as you’re mentally preparing for another round of exhaustion, fate intervenes.

“You, over there.”

You instinctively try to ignore the voice, slipping into the on-call room like you haven't heard a thing, but then, you see it: the dark blue scrubs. Something about them makes you freeze in place, and with a deep sigh, you reluctantly turn toward the source.

“I need you to round up your interns and send them away on other stuff,” the attending orders, breezing past you with barely a glance. “It’s a… special guest. Torres wants you on the case. It’s ortho.”

You blink, caught off guard. This wasn’t what you were expecting—not even close. Before you can protest, the attending is already heading down the hallway at a speed that defies the urgency of your thoughts.

“No, I—“ You try to call after him, but it’s too late. He’s already gone, vanished into the corridor like a phantom.

You glance around at the empty hallway, suddenly feeling a weight you didn’t ask for pressing on your shoulders. "I’m tired," you mutter to yourself, leaning against the wall for a moment. The thought of yet another case, another special guest, is enough to make you want to crawl back into the on-call room and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a few more hours. But there’s no time for that now.

Time to suck it up, grab your interns, and pray you make it out of this shift without completely losing your sanity.

"You, um... Mc— McCallum? Yeah, McCallum and your posse, you can all go to the pit."

The group groans in unison, their collective frustration almost palpable in the air. Normally, you might take a second to sympathize, maybe toss in a joke to ease the tension, but right now? You’re not having it. The day’s been too long, your patience has been running too thin.

The next words come out of your mouth almost without thought, and they feel sharp, cutting. You can see the interns’ faces fall before they even register what you’ve said.

"And since you all seem to like it so much, you can stay there for the rest of the week. Have fun." You grunt the last part, grabbing the file for the so-called "special guest" and ignoring the sudden silence that falls in your wake.

The interns stare at you, wide-eyed. They’ve learned over time that, despite your grumpy exterior, you’ve got their backs—at least when it counts. But right now, you're too tired to care about who likes you and who doesn't. You just want to get through the day, and if this is how it’s going to go, you won’t stand in destiny’s way.

The remaining ones— still a little too wide-eyed— watch you like puppies waiting for a treat. It’s uncomfortable, the way they look at you. Like you're supposed to provide answers, direction, a path forward. You're about to speak when the thought of the attending's earlier words hit you hard.

You freeze for a beat, caught between the irritation of dealing with your interns and the looming responsibility of the surgery. You didn’t sign up to babysit, but that seems to be exactly what you’re doing.

"Errr…" You can feel your brain short-circuiting for a moment, then instinctively you start grabbing a pile of paperwork off the desk, pushing it into the interns' hands. "Post-ops," you mutter. "You know the drill. Fill these out. Keep yourselves busy."

As they scatter to comply, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. It’s not the most graceful order, but it’ll work for now. Now, all you have to do is deal with whatever “special guest” situation Torres has thrown your way—and pray you survive the rest of this shift without further mental collapse.

Either way, you suppose you shouldn’t be mad at Torres. Every surgery offered to a resident is a golden opportunity—a chance to beef up your surgical portfolio and make yourself a prime candidate for future fellowships. Especially since ortho is your endgame. You’d mentioned your interest to Torres once, in passing, not expecting anything to come of it. Yet here you are.

You should be thrilled. And maybe, beneath the layers of exhaustion weighing down your shoulders, you are. But right now, it feels less like a privilege and more like pressure—pressure to prove you’re worthy of the trust an attending has placed in you.

“Hope you’re ready for this one, L/N.”

You turn at the sound of Torres’ voice, catching her reflection in the scrub room window. She strides in just as you finish washing up, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

“It’s an ACL tear.”

Your brow furrows slightly. An ACL tear? It’s common enough—routine, even. Hardly what you’d consider high-stakes.

Torres catches your expression and smiles knowingly. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. You think this is gonna be easy. But, point number one: at your level, any work is hard work.” She fixes you with a pointed look, her tone leaving no room for argument. Then, she gestures toward the OR with a nod of her chin. “And besides, the guy in there? High-level footballer. Some kind of genius, apparently. That’s point number two: he’s still young, so recovery should go well, but for that, this surgery has to be flawless. Understood, L/N?”

Before walking away, Torres pauses, her gaze lingering on you as if sizing you up. Her voice cuts through the tension, calm but firm.

“This is your first solo surgery,” she says, her words heavy and her eyes gleaming. “How you pull this off is how people see you for the rest of your residency. Make it count.”

You glance around the room, your gaze landing on the senior orthopedic surgeon seated calmly at the foot of the table. It hits you like a freight train: aside from them, you’re the leading surgeon today.

A wave of nerves surges through you, spreading from your chest to your fingertips. You try to steady yourself, cycling through the breathing exercises you’ve practiced so many times before, but your heart isn’t listening, and neither is your brain. Your heart is racing, your thoughts spiraling.

Nobody told you this was going to be a solo surgery. Was it an oversight? Or worse—was it intentional? Some kind of test? The thought slowly wraps around your brain, your mind constantly conjuring up worst-case scenarios. Were they just waiting for you to mess up so they’d have a reason to kick you out of this hospital?

Despite your inner turmoil, you nod, pulling your mask over your face, steadying yourself. This is definitely a test, you sigh to yourself.

The door slides open, and you position yourself in front of the body, gathering the tools, the bright lights of the OR gleaming down as you make the incision, your hands steady despite the tension radiating through your shoulders. You’ve rehearsed this in your mind a dozen times, but the reality of handling a live ACL tear on a high-profile athlete feels different. Your focus sharpens as you expose the torn ligament.

“L/N, what’s your first step in graft placement?” Torres’ voice cuts through the hum of monitors, calm but firm. You feel like a squeaky intern again. Your attending’s gaze is sharp, and typically, you’re the one asking the questions. Nevertheless, you find yourself reporting for duty almost immediately like an old reflex.

“Secure the femoral tunnel first to ensure proper alignment,” you answer, carefully inserting the guide pin.

“And why is that important?” she presses, stepping closer to observe.

“To maintain knee stability and prevent rotational instability post-op,” you reply, glancing at her briefly.

Torres nods, her expression unreadable. “Good. Keep going. Remember, precision is key. His career depends on this.”

You take a deep breath and steady your hands, feeling the weight of Torres’ words linger in the air. You’ve answered her questions correctly so far, and you’ve only got another set of questions coming your way, but the gnawing voice in your mind won’t let up.

A few more questions—that’s all it is, you try and tell yourself, but another voice in your head sneers. A few more is also the difference between standing here tomorrow or being kicked out today. Between a career and a blacklist.

You scoff internally, trying to silence the thought. Blacklisted is for stealing another patient’s heart for your own patient, blacklisted is for—

“Is there a problem, Doctor L/n?” Torres’ voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, sharp and pointed. Her raised eyebrows are a warning.

“No,” you blurt, feeling your face heat. “No, I just—I’m threading the graft through the femoral tunnel.”

She nods, her eyes drifting back to her magazine as if nothing had happened. “Good. Keep going.”

You force your focus back on the task at hand, trying to shake the storm of thoughts clouding your mind. It’s almost over. Just a few more minutes, and this patient will be transferred to recovery. He’ll heal. He’ll get back on his feet, back on the field—or maybe he won’t.

The thought creeps back in, insidious and loud. What if he never plays again? What if he sues? What if this ruins you?

“Looks good,” Torres says, her voice softer now, but no less commanding. The words slice clean through the noise in your head. “Close up, and let’s get him to recovery.”

You finish the last suture, your breath catching slightly as the weight of the moment settles in.

“You’ve done well today,” she adds, and the tension in your chest loosens just enough for you to finally exhale.

Relief washes over you, but you keep your composure, nodding as you finish the sutures. There’s still work to do, but for the first time today, you feel like you’re more than just a resident. You’re a surgeon in the making.

Just as you’re about to wash up and get rid of your gloves, your attending makes her way back to you, and hands you a chart.

“Post-ops,” She says. “He’s your patient now, so you do the checking up. Explain the surgery went well, keep him updated on the treatment that follows, and so on. We’ll keep him here for some time, so he’s your responsibility.”

Nevermind surgeon-in-the-making— you’re just a resident after all. Post-ops can easily be pawned off on your interns, but there’s no dodging this check-up.

———————————————————-

“So, first solo surgery, Y/n, how does it feel?” Livy elbows you with a teasing smile. The trauma of her own first solo surgery is long behind her now. She had hers months ago, and even then, you’re sure no one sprung it on her like a surprise birthday party.

“Awful,” you groan, rubbing your temples as if that might somehow alleviate the tension still coursing through you.

“Aw, did you flunk it?” she quips, her grin widening.

“No,” you admit with a sigh. “I don’t think so? I mean, I got through it, but I had no idea it was happening. Torres just walked up to me, told me I was flying solo, and suddenly, I was the leading surgeon. No prep time, no warning—just boom. Sink or swim.”

Livy winces in sympathy, toying with the rings on her fingers. “That’s rough. But, hey, she probably figured you could handle it if she threw you in like that.”

“Or she just wanted to watch me crash and burn,” you mutter, bitterness creeping into your tone. “It felt like walking a tightrope with no safety net.”

Livy raises an eyebrow. “But did you crash and burn?”

“That’s not the point. I could’ve.”

She shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “You could spend a lifetime obsessing over all the could’ves, would’ves, and should’ves, but it won’t change what’s already done.”

You turn to her, crinkling your eyes slightly. “You are such an existentialist.”

Livy crosses her arms defensively. “Am not!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know,” you tease, your lips quirking into a small smile.

She shrugs again, this time more nonchalantly. “I just think some things in life shouldn’t be written off as absurd.”

You snort lightly, curiosity piqued. “Like what?”

Livy’s smile turns mischievous, her eyes gleaming. “Like your patient chart,” she says sweetly, discreetly sliding her hand across the table.

“He’s a football player, apparently,” you mutter, grabbing your stale coffee and the stack of post-op charts. Before you can make your exit, Livy snatches the paperwork from your hands, her eyes scanning the pages with growing curiosity.

“Itoshi, Rin,” she reads aloud, sending a jolt of panic through you. You lunge for the chart, but Livy sidesteps you, oblivious to your distress. The attending’s warning echoes in your mind as nearby staff glance your way. Nothing fuels the hospital rumor mill faster than a name like that.

“Twenty-five,” Livy continues, ignoring your frantic attempts to grab the file. “ACL tear, blah, blah, blah…”

“Livy—”

“Oh! He’s 187 centimeters? God, this guy’s massive—”

“Livy, I’m serious. He’s supposed to be low-profile—”

“Hmm, 67 kilos? Lanky, but it could work… Oh! Do you think I can find his Instagram? Room 407! Right next to the naughty nurse guy in 408. Think they’ll watch together?”

You finally manage to snatch the chart back, your cheeks reddening and your hair sticking out. “No, you can’t find his Instagram. No, he won’t be watching porn with the weirdo in 408. And no, you’re not telling anyone what you saw in this chart. He’s a… a big shot, or something. I’m supposed to keep the people who know he’s here to a minimum. So if you could keep his personal info to yourself, that’d be great.”

Livy raises an eyebrow but says nothing as you toss your coffee in the trash. “I gotta go,” you mutter, storming off before she can get another word in.

By the time you reach Itoshi Rin’s room, your mood has dwindled to the lowest depths of hell. The day had already started on a bad note, but between the third part of your medical licensing exam, a certain football prodigy, and your stupid interns, your head feels like it’s on the verge of exploding. Still, you put on a brave face and brace yourself as you step inside.

“Itoshi Rin?”

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and the deep frown on his face warns you that this conversation won’t be pleasant.

“Do doctors have to crawl through tunnels to get to patient units now?”

“No,” you huff, mirroring his frown. “I apologize.”

“You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

You rearrange his chart on the bedside table, exhaling irritably. “You’ll spend the rest of your stay here the same way you did those ten minutes. You’ll be fine.”

As the words leave your mouth, they hit your brain like a delayed bomb. Realizing the sharpness in your tone, you scramble to recover. “Oh, I—no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“When can I play again?” he interrupts, completely unfazed by your backpedaling.

You pause, slightly taken aback by how little he seems to care about your apology. “I was trying to apologize.”

“I don’t need an apology you don’t mean.”

His bluntness stings, but you force a tight smile. “Well, I really am sorry. But for now, let’s focus on your check-up before we dive into questions, okay?”

“Don’t bother with the bullshit customer service act,” he retorts, his voice sharp. “Just tell me when I can play again.”

Your forced smile grows saccharine. Fine, you think, if he wants to play this game, you’ll play along no problem. “I would, but according to HPSO guidelines, I should let the aggravating patient calm down before proceeding.”

“Did you just call me aggravating?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

Before you can respond, his gaze flicks past you. A shadow looms in the doorway, and dread settles in your stomach. You turn slowly, heart sinking as you recognize the figure: the attending physician who assigned you this case.

Your mind races. One opportunity, blown in a heartbeat, all because you lost your cool with a difficult patient. The attending’s expression is a careful mix of disbelief and disappointment.

“I—” you start, voice faltering, “I didn’t mean—”

Before you can finish, Rin lets out an annoyed grunt, motioning for a nearby nurse to escort the attending out and close the door. You whip your head around to stare at him, stunned.

He shrugs, as though this is no big deal. Through the small window in the door, the attending looks half-convinced, suspicion lingering before they finally walk away.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone with Rin. You can’t decide if you’re more relieved or furious.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you mutter, picking up his chart from the bedside table.

“What the hell,” he mutters back, rubbing his forehead. “A normal person would just say thank you.”

“That’s funny,” you snap, flipping through the chart without looking at him. “Coming from someone who didn’t bother thanking the surgeon who just spent hours saving their career.”

Rin’s eyes narrow. “You don’t know that. What if I don’t recover well?”

“That’s on your physiotherapist, not me.”

“Aren’t you my physiotherapist?”

You roll your eyes, shutting the chart with a snap. “I’m your surgeon. I’ll monitor your progress for a bit, make sure everything holds up, and then I’m gone. Should be exactly what you want, right?”

“What I want,” he says, his voice clipped, “is to know when I can play again.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “That depends on a lot of factors.”

“When?” he presses, his tone sharper now.

“I can’t give you a definitive answer yet,” you reply, your patience wearing thin.

“Why not? Aren’t you a doctor?” He scoffs, picking up his phone from the nightstand. “I knew I couldn’t trust anyone with this. I specifically asked for someone competent.”

His muttering is loud enough to hear, and it pushes you past your breaking point.

“I am competent,” you snap, stepping closer to his bed. His eyes lock onto yours, and the tension between you becomes palpable.

“As your doctor, your surgeon, and considering all the variables you clearly haven’t thought about, I’m telling you—I cannot give you an answer right now. Are we clear?”

He doesn’t reply, but his glare doesn’t waver.

You push a stray strand of hair out of your face, steadying your voice. “In your case, we repaired the medial collateral ligament, which is a common injury in your field. Recovery typically takes six months, depending on how consistent you are with the rehab plan. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and leave, the door clicking shut behind you. Rin’s glare follows you, but the silence in the room is louder than anything he could say.

As you disappear down the hallway, Rin glares at the door, his jaw clenched. Moody, stuck-up smartass. That’s all you are. A pretty face with an attitude sharp enough to cut glass. He’d stepped in, helped you out when you were clearly drowning, and all he got in return was indifference. Not even a thank you.

He huffs, crossing his arms tighter. Should’ve just kept my mouth shut. You weren’t worth the effort. Maybe he should pass your number to his brother. You and Sae would probably get along just fine—two arrogant know-it-alls. The thought makes him scowl even deeper.

Yet, as irritated as he is, he can’t quite shake the feeling that he’ll be seeing more of you than he’d like. And for reasons he can’t explain, that thought bothers him even more.

———————————————————-

As your keys jingle inside your apartment’s lock, you can already feel your body ready to faceplant you straight to the ground. You’ve never been as tired as you are now, even considering the hellish schedules you had to endure during your internship.

So much for a well-deserved break, you thought.

You ungracefully stumble onto your couch, and search for the TV remote to skip channels until you inevitably fall asleep. Your fingers continuously tap on the same tile, until a news anchor gets your attention. It isn’t her specifically that catches your eye, but more-so the familiar mop of black hair paired with those icy blue eyes in the background. Below his picture, a headline scrolls across the bottom:

”Prodigy Itoshi Rin to sit out for the rest of the season, PXG faces tough road ahead”

Well, if he wasn’t already in a bad mood today and yesterday, he definitely is going to be tomorrow. Only difference is, tomorrow, you’ll be able to pride yourself on a perfectly good night’s sleep, and you can only hope that it will make enough of a difference to hopefully enough to make that check-up go smoother. Or less disastrous, at the very least.

Your phone dings, and as you check it, you realise it’s nothing more than a link. You grab it, and make a point to sigh when you see it’s Livy who has sent said message.

The link takes you to Instagram, and you immediately dread what’s to come. There’s a mountain of possibilities, considering her personality. Either a hot nurse from the ER, a hot attending, a hot patient…

Just as you feel like you know exactly what you’ve stumbled upon, your worst nightmare has materialized right in front of your face.

His profile is exactly what you’d imagined it to be like. Cryptic, simple, with an embarrassing amount of effort put into a semblant of mysteriousness. His bio is made up of three letters spelling out his club, his username is a bland combination of his first and last name, and yet, he has amassed a whopping twelve million followers.

Twelve. Million.

You stare at the number, dumbfounded. You don’t understand how such a nasty personality could ever have people looking up to them, let alone twelve million.

You toss your phone onto the couch with an exasperated sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions. Twelve million people following that guy? You rub your temples, still processing the sheer absurdity of it. Rin Itoshi— who finds the grueling task of thanking someone he considers far below him absolutely insurmountable —has somehow captured the hearts of millions.

The thought gnaws at you. It’s not the followers, not really. It’s the disconnect between the person you met today and the public persona those twelve million people seem to worship. You can’t reconcile the icy glare, the condescending tone, with the polished, enigmatic figure plastered all over social media. Maybe they don’t see what you saw. Or maybe they just don’t care.

Your phone dings again, signalling another message from Livy:

"Told you he’s hot. Should’ve gotten that Instagram when you had the chance 💋"

You roll your eyes, tossing a quick reply:

"Not my type. Also, not yours. Stay out of trouble."

You don’t have a problem with admitting he’s hot. Really, you don’t. And maybe he could’ve been your type, if he wasn’t cranky and resentful as if you’d just shot his mom in front of him.

You drop the phone onto your chest, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. Rin’s mood will be even worse after the media circus surrounding his injury, and you’ll be right in the middle of it. Still, with a good night’s sleep, maybe —just maybe— you’ll have the patience to survive his check-up without losing your mind.

And if not? Well, there’s always coffee. Lots of it.

———————————————————-

The moment you had dared to step into his dark, borderline cavernous room —which had once resembled a proper patient unit— Rin was already glaring at you. Not one to back down, you glared right back, slamming his chart onto the desk at the foot of his bed with enough force to make the clipboard rattle. You flipped the pages with unnecessary vigor, regularly shooting him pointed looks over the top of the file.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Rin finally snapped, his brows furrowed in what you could only assume was his default expression.

“I’m trying to anticipate the stupidities that are about to come out of your mouth so I can refute them before you even finish,” you deadpanned, barely sparing him a glance.

“How mature and diplomatic of you,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You didn’t miss a beat, and huff, ‘I doubt diplomacy was ever in your cards.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his face contorting into something caught between annoyance and borderline murderous intentions.

“Oh, yeah, that was very diplomatic,” you shot back, mockingly sweet as you continued flipping through the chart.

Rin rolled his eyes, leaning back against the pillows like your very presence was a personal affront. “Why do you even bother showing up if all you’re going to do is insult me?”

“Because I have this very unpleasant thing called a job, that causes me to have interactions with equally unpleasant patients,” you shot back without hesitation, jotting something down on his chart. “Though I’ll admit, it’s getting harder to tell if I’m here to treat your knee or your ego.”

“You’re hilarious,” he muttered, deadpan. Bitch, he thinks.

“I know,” you quipped, flashing him a quick narrowed look before your expression sobered. “Speaking of your knee, how’s the pain? Any discomfort, swelling, or anything else I should know about?”

Rin hesitated for a moment, his frown deepening. “It’s fine.”

“Fine isn’t a medical term, Itoshi. Try again.”

He huffed, clearly irritated. “There’s some stiffness when I move it, but it’s not unbearable.”

“Progress,” you said, your tone deliberately cheerful as you made a note in his chart. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, but the sharp glare he threw your way made it clear it wasn’t complimentary.

“Careful,” you hum, glancing up from your notes. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you actually enjoy these little visits.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he shot back.

You finished jotting down your notes and closed the chart with a decisive snap. “Alright, that’s enough verbal sparring for one day. Keep up with the exercises, and let me know if the pain gets worse. And, for the love of everything holy, try not to terrorize any more nurses.”

“I didn’t terrorize anyone,” he grumbled, eyes squinting at you, indicating he’d clearly found this conversation much less amusing than you have been these past few minutes.

“Sure,” you replied, clearly unconvinced. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

As you had turned to leave, you couldn’t resist throwing one last jab over your shoulder. “See you tomorrow, evil spawn.”

You chuckle to yourself. Evil spawn was a nickname you’d nicked from a show you were watching. You had congratulated yourself with how accurate it had been, and even more so with the way Rin would grit his teeth in anger at the sheer disrespect you clearly had no problem in displaying. Either way, it didn’t matter. There was no way in hell that Rin itoshi was gonna ruin your finally-back-to-normal sleep schedule by interfering in your late night thoughts. Or even daytime ones.

———————————————————-

“I feel reborn!” you announce, striding through the hospital’s main entrance, practically glowing.

“Is it because your patient is a good-looking football prodigy, and you’ve got the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to check up on him every single day?” Oliver’s gruff voice cuts through your euphoria, and you whip around to face him.

“Does everybody know about this?”

“God and everybody,” he replies, raising an eyebrow over the rim of his coffee cup.

You scowl, crossing your arms. “Well, I’m so glad everyone is so invested in my personal life.” Then, with a huff, you add, “But for your information, I was talking about the amazing amount of sleep I got last night.”

Oliver smirks. “He’s kind of like a sad German shepherd, isn’t he? All about being dark and twisty. That’s definitely a hit with the ladies.”

“What would you know about that?” you mutter, unconvinced, eyes fixed on the cuffs of your coat.

“Tried it out last night,” Oliver twists his pen around, “Chicks love it. I felt like poultry farming.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of that,” you slam your charts on the reception desk. Livy, who you hadn’t even realized was listening in on your conversation, falls into step beside you as you both head down the hallway. She leans in, her voice low but amused. “Poultry farming? Seriously?”

You shake your head. “Don’t ask.”

Livy snickers, glancing over her shoulder at Oliver, who’s still lounging at the reception desk with that smug grin plastered across his face. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing—him calling it poultry farming or the fact that it probably worked.”

“Neither,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “The most disturbing part is that I’m going to have to hear about it all day.”

Livy smirks. “He’ll milk it until someone gives him a reason to stop.” She nudges you playfully. “Maybe we can set him up with one of the weirdos in the pit. That’ll humble him.”

“I’m not sure I want to deal with the aftermath of that disaster,” you sigh.

As you reach the elevators, Livy presses the button and crosses her arms. “Speaking of disasters, how’s your ACL tear patient? Or should I say, your ‘mysterious football prodigy’?” She raises her eyebrows in a mock-serious way.

You glance at her, wary. “Why?”

“Just curious. I heard he’s already making a name for himself around here, and not just because of the injury. Apparently, he’s been giving the nurses a hard time.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “Great. As if dealing with him in surgery wasn’t enough, now I have to handle his attitude during recovery.”

Livy grins. “Well, you did sign up for ortho. All those high-maintenance athletes are part of the package. At least he’s not throwing tantrums. Yet.”

“Give him time,” you mumble as the elevator doors open. “I’m sure it’s coming.”

You both step inside, and Livy taps the button for your floor. “Good luck. Maybe today will be tantrum-free.”

“I’ll take ‘unlikely’ for 500,” you mutter, bracing yourself for another day of chaos.

It only takes a few seconds for you both to reach your floor, and as soon as your ways separate, you begin regretting not having taken Livy in with you to deal with the devil incarnate.

You slide open the door to room 407, and the scene that greets you makes your stomach churn. The room, usually neat and orderly, looks like the aftermath of an earthquake. A mountain of gifts is scattered across the floor, the vase of flowers on the windowsill has been shattered, and the bed is in disarray, blankets torn and thrown about. But most alarmingly, Rin is nowhere to be seen.

“Itoshi?” you call, your voice sharp as you scan the room.

“What?” His voice is gruff, coming from the bathroom, making you raise an eyebrow.

You step cautiously toward the bathroom and find Rin sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. He looks far from the composed, untouchable figure you’re used to—his gown is crooked, his hair is a mess, and there’s a sharpness in his eyes.

“Did you fall? Are you hurt?” you ask, your voice a mixture of mild concern and absolute confusion.

“No,” he snaps, not bothering to meet your gaze. “I’m fine. Just go do your thing.”

You’re not having it. “Are you kidding? I spent three hours in that OR making sure your ACL was repaired properly. I’m not leaving until you’re back in bed and I’ve finished my check-up. So, get up.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing as he drags a hand through his disheveled hair. “Are you always this charitable?”

You look around the room at the absolute mess. “You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “What happened here? Looks like someone broke into your room.”

Rin’s face hardens, and he straightens up, visibly frustrated. “They did break in. They wouldn’t leave, so I made them.”

You blink, confused for a moment. “You—what?”

“The nurses wouldn’t listen,” Rin mutters, gritting his teeth. “I told them to get out. They kept hovering, so I made them go.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow, surprised by his outburst. “You chased them out?”

He gives you a look that’s a mix of annoyance and irritation. “Yeah, I did. And I don’t want any more pity gifts or anyone pretending like I’m helpless just because I got benched.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You’re not getting benched, though, are you?”

He shrugs, his eyes flickering briefly with a semblant of dejection, but he quickly hides it. You move to the broken vase, carefully picking up the shards of glass as a nurse cautiously enters to help clean up. She looks terrified at the mess but quickly gets to work, not daring to argue.

Rin watches you in silence, then drags a hand over his face, muttering, “Great. Now even you know about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you reply, gently removing the bandage to assess the potential damage.

Rin glares at you from the corner of his eye. “You ask too many questions.”

You can’t help the corners of your mouth that lift up, if only just slightly, shaking your head as you continue to examine his knee. “Ah, yes, that must definitely change you from your empty-headed teammates.”

Rin’s eyes narrow at you, the tension thick in the room. “What does that mean?”

Without missing a beat, you mimic his gruff tone, “You ask too many questions.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Rin’s expression darkens, but then—just barely—there’s a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t smile, but it’s clear he’s not as offended as you thought. The little quirk in his gaze makes it obvious he didn’t take it as badly as he could’ve.

“Whatever,” he mutters, his arms crossing defensively, but there’s no real bite to his words, even if the blatant disrespect is still awfully obvious.

You glance up at him, your hands still busy with the chart as you make your final notes. You let a brief silence hang in the air before you add, “You’re not half as bad when you don’t act like the devil incarnate.”

Rin stiffens slightly, eyes flashing as he straightens up in bed, but the corner of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly. You can tell he’s holding back a snort, though he doesn’t fully let his guard down.

“Devil incarnate, huh?” he says dryly, arching an eyebrow as if he’s considering the statement. “You’re a real piece of work yourself.”

You meet his gaze, and mock . “I’m just here for the knee. And the attitude, if you’re offering.”

Rin shakes his head, muttering under his breath as you finish your notes. Maybe you’ve struck a nerve— just not the one he’s used to people poking.

———————————————————-

Weirdly enough, for a bar so close to a hospital teeming with exhausted interns, fatigued residents, and perpetually annoyed attendings, the atmosphere was surprisingly upbeat. It hummed with the chatter of people shedding the day’s weight, drinks in hand, laughter cutting through the tension they’d likely carried in with them. You suppose alcohol really does work miracles in times of need, and tonight, you desperately hope to be on the receiving end of those miracles.

“I really, really need to get off this case,” you groan, finishing off another shot and barely suppressing a wince as the burn claws its way down your throat.

Livy snorts from her perch beside you, her head leaning heavily against her palm. “Tell me about it. I’ve got a kid who’s juiced up on steroids because he thinks it'll get him a girlfriend.” She lets her head drop onto the bar with a dull thunk, her misery almost theatrical.

You cross your arms and rest your head on them, letting out a muffled laugh. “Sounds like a real catch. Maybe he should swing by the ortho ward. I’ve got a surly footballer who could use a few pointers on how not to scare people off.”

Livy lifts her head just enough to arch an eyebrow at you. “Surly footballer, huh? This the same guy who turned his room into a war zone?”

You nod, gesturing for another round. “The one and only. The mess he makes might actually rival his attitude.”

Livy chuckles, though her laugh is muffled as she lays her cheek back on the bar. “Sounds like you two are perfect for each other.”

“Perfectly incompatible,” you counter.

Livy sits up slightly, her interest piqued. “Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t tell me you’re actually into this guy?”

You scoff, picking at a napkin on the bar. “Into him?” You settle your elbows on the bar decisively, “I’m into complex orthological cases. I’m into passing all my exams and becoming an attending at a good hospital. What I’m not into is an emotional landmine of a man with an ego the size of his paycheck.”

Livy tilts her head, studying you like a puzzle she can’t quite crack. “Okay, but does he at least have the goods? You know, tall, dark, and moody kind of thing?”

“Tall, dark, and irritating,” you correct, leaning into the banter despite yourself. “He’s not bad-looking, but trashing the entire room? If that’s not a dealbreaker, I don’t know what is.”

“Hmm.” Livy hums thoughtfully, swirling the last bit of her drink in the glass. “So you’ve noticed he’s handsome?”

You give her a flat look. “I have eyes, Livy. Doesn’t mean I want to play house with him for the rest of eternity.”

Livy grins, clearly amused. “It doesn’t have to be for the rest of eternity. Could be a night in the on-call room. Or day. Doesn’t matter if you don’t like his personality, because his personality is in his wallet.” She sips on her alcohol like on a juice box, and looks at you with pointed eyes.

“I’m not looking for a transactional relationship, thank you,” you quip. “Besides, we’re stuck together until his knee’s functional again. That’s it.”

Livy raises her glass in mock salute. “Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when you start falling for your disaster patient. Happens to the best of us, you know.”

You roll your eyes, but the hint of a smile creeps onto your lips as you clink your glass to hers. “If that ever happens, I give you full permission to slap some sense into me.”

“Deal,” Livy says, downing the rest of her drink. “If you become a social pariah, I’d have to become one by proxy,” she sighs. ”I’m not letting you ruin my life.”

“Your sense of solidarity has always been your strongest quality,” you mutter, finishing off your drink with a frown.

———————————————————-

Another shift at this godforsaken hospital almost always means a trip straight down to Hades’ underworld. Some people call it Room 407. To each their own.

“Have fun, Persephone!” Oliver’s voice rings out behind you as you make your way to your personal hell.

Your so-called friends have been calling you that since the beginning of the week, after overhearing a nurse’s nickname for you. Apparently, your frequent trips to Rin Itoshi’s unit bore an uncanny resemblance to Persephone returning to the underworld every winter. At first, the joke had made you laugh, but now, the more you see the resemblance, the less amusing it becomes.

Unbeknownst to you, your grim expression only adds fuel to the joke that has spread like wildfire throughout the hospital.

“Persephone? I thought your name was y/n,” Rin remarks, his dark eyes flicking up from where he sits as you clip the chart to the bedside stand.

“It is,” you sigh, already feeling the wear of the conversation. “They call me Persephone because they call you Hades.”

His brow furrows. “Well, why?”

“Why what?”

His huff is almost audible, as if asking for clarification pains him. “Why do they call me Hades? And what does that have to do with Persephone?”

You scoff and gape at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You— You trashed the entire room! You chased out every nurse who tried to help you! You seriously don’t know why they call you Hades?”

He frowns, his jaw tightening as he mutters just loud enough for you to catch, “Just wanted some peace.”

“If you want peace, you ask for it! You don’t just go around terrifying people!” you snap, crossing your arms.

“I did ask,” he growls.

“Oh, did you?” you retort, leaning forward slightly, challenging him.

“I did.”

The two of you lock eyes in an intense, silent standoff, the tension crackling in the air like a brewing storm. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh, grabbing the chart and switching to the matter at hand.

“Whatever. Scar is nicely healed, no sign of tissue abnormalities—”

Before you can finish, Rin interrupts, his eyes widening slightly. “Yeah okay, whatever— what’s this Hades bull got to do with Persephone anyway?.”

His tone softens slightly toward the end, but it still catches you off guard. You lower the chart, tilting your head at him. “You— You want me to explain Persephone? Like, the myth? You don’t know it?”

His blank stare is answer enough, and he mutters, “People say shit about me behind my back, I wanna know what it’s all about.”. You blink at him, momentarily dumbfounded. “You’re serious. You really don’t know? What, were you too busy dribbling a ball to learn the basics of mythology?”

Rin looks away, scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “No. I just didn’t have time to get to know stuff like that.”

You blink, genuinely taken aback. “Yeah, but how do you not know about Persephone? Did you sleep through literature class or something?”

“I had other things to focus on,” he says flatly, then glares at you. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

You sigh, setting down the chart. “Ugh... Uh— Persephone is the goddess of spring, but she’s also Demeter’s daughter.”

”Who’s Demeter?” Rin interrupts, and it takes everything in you to not snap. Instead, you grit your teeth; “I was getting to it.”

You take in a breath, and with a warning glance to Rin that he pointedly ignores, you start again. “So. Demeter is the goddess of, um, harvest, I think. Among other things. Whatever, it’s not relevant to the story anyway. So, the whole story is that Hades, the god of the underworld, kidnapped Persephone and dragged her down to his realm to be his queen. Her mom, Demeter, freaked out, causing eternal winter until Persephone was allowed to leave for part of the year. So, when she’s in the underworld, it’s winter. When she’s on Earth, it’s spring. That’s the gist of it.”

Rin raises an eyebrow. “And this has to do with me because…?”

You gesture vaguely at him and then the room. “You’re the brooding, moody god of the underworld who scared everyone off. And I’m the one forced to come down here every day to deal with you.”

There’s a beat of silence as he processes this, his frown deepening. “That’s stupid.”

“You think I like it?” you snap, crossing your arms. “I didn’t choose this nickname. Or this assignment, for that matter.”

Rin leans back against the bed, a soft frown playing on his eyebrows. “So, does that make me your husband in this scenario?”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “What?! No! Don’t—just—ugh, no. Forget I even told you the story.”

He chuckles softly, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

“You? Joke? Who are you and what have you done with my patient?,” you mutter, picking up the chart again, your cheeks warm. At this, the slight twinkle in Rin’s eye disappears as quickly as it came, and you can almost see the walls come up again. “Because the idea of marrying my most difficult patient is enough to make me want to quit.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rin says, his voice low and sardonic. “If anyone’s being forced into this situation, it’s me.”

You shoot him a glare but choose to let the comment slide. “Anyway,” you say firmly, turning your attention back to the chart, “your scar is healing well. No sign of scar tissue. You’re progressing as expected, so keep following your physiotherapy plan.”

Rin leans forward slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Does that mean I’ll get rid of you soon?”

“Not soon enough,” you mutter, though there’s a faint smile tugging at your lips as you scribble a note on the chart.

———————————————————-

“I don’t know why I have to be the one doing all of this. No, seriously, what’s the point?”

The hospital is full of mysteries. A storage room filled with forgotten keepsakes from surgeries. The infamous on-call room, where the stories alone are enough to keep anyone from asking questions. And, of course, the infamous patient room where a doctor cut her patient’s LVAD wire because she fell in love with him.

But the fourth mystery? That one is far more exclusive, and for cause. Room 239 is a quiet secret among your group that you’d stumbled upon as interns. You’d kept it under wraps, specifically because this room is home to what you call the perfect patient: quiet, cooperative, and perpetually asleep. In short, it’s a haven for a peaceful lunch break. No snark, no frowns, no superiority complex. Just pure, unbothered bliss. You’d had your fair share of theories about the guy (dead, in a deep coma, or maybe just asleep…), but ultimately, you’d just decided that as long as he was quiet, whether he was dead or alive mattered little to you.

“I mean, patient care was the first thing we learned in med school. I don’t need Itoshi Rin to teach me that,” you grumble around the salty cupcake you’d snagged from the cafeteria. You chase it down with a gulp of water, practically choking it into submission.

Oliver, lounging in the corner, watches you attack your second cupcake with a raised eyebrow of judgment. “He could probably help you out with that stick shoved up your ass,” he drawls, voice thick with mockery.

You scoff, swallowing another bite. “Right. Like he’s the one to help with that. If anything, I’d leave that room even more stuck up than when I went in.”

“I meant sexually.”

You pause mid-reach for your next snack, the word landing with a heavy thud between the two of you. After a beat, you mutter a flat, “Oh,” before turning back to your tray. Your fingers hover thoughtfully, then swipe up a cookie, as if nothing had happened.

You crunch into it, savoring the sweetness as if it could erase the last thirty seconds of your life. Oliver, of course, is still watching you like he’s just delivered the punchline of a joke he’s dying for you to laugh at.

“You’re quiet,” he says, smirking. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve.”

“You didn’t hit anything,” you mutter, brushing crumbs off your lap. “Unlike some people, I don’t make everything about sex.”

“Oh, please,” Oliver says, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. “You’re just mad because I’m right. Admit it: you’ve thought about it.”

You glare at him. “Thought about what?”

“Itoshi Rin,” he says, waving a hand dramatically. “He’s what? 187 centimeters of pure evil brooding energy? Tell me you haven’t entertained the idea.”

“Not even for a second,” you reply, a little too quickly.

He raises a brow. “Sure. And I’m the Chief of Surgery.”

Before you can snap back, the door creaks open, and Livy pokes her head in. “Oh, good, you’re here. Room 407’s asking for you again,” she says, her voice pitched with barely concealed glee.

You groan, slumping forward. “Of course he is.”

Livy grins like a cat that’s caught a particularly annoying mouse. “What’s wrong, Persephone? Your Hades beckons.”

Oliver barks out a laugh, and you grab your tray, scowling as you shove the rest of the cookie into your mouth. “You’re all insufferable,” you say through a mouthful of crumbs, already marching toward the door.

“Have fun!” Livy calls after you, and Oliver’s laughter follows you down the hall.

As you head toward Room 407, you can’t help but think that, of all the things you’ve been called this week, “Persephone” is starting to feel uncomfortably accurate.

"Hey, you asked for me?" you say, slightly breathless as you burst into the room. One hand grips Rin’s chart against your chest, the other keeping the door ajar.

"Why did Hades want Persephone in the overworld?"

"What ?" You stumble over your words, completely blindsided by the question. Out of all the things you’d expected—questions about his recovery timeline, complaints about being benched, maybe a snarky comment about the staff—this wasn’t anywhere near the list.

"It's the underworld," you correct instinctively, recovering enough to squint at him. "And he brought her there because he loved her. Or… something like that. Look, I’m not a mythology expert. Is this seriously what you called me in for?"

He doesn’t stop there, of course. You’d underestimated just how persistent Rin could be.

"If he loved her, why would he drag her to the underworld?" he asks, heavily emphasizing the word “underworld” like it’s some alien concept. "Pretty sure that counts as kidnapping."

"Because it’s Greek mythology, and Greek gods were all a little off their rockers. I don’t know," you reply, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Why would the Greeks idolize gods if they were as batshit crazy as people say?"

"You— This is a hospital wing. There are kids here, so mind your language, would you?," you hiss, gesturing toward the hallway before continuing. "But I don’t know! That’s just how it was—"

"You don’t seem to know much for a doctor," he drawls, raising a single eyebrow with mock disdain.

You take a deep breath, visibly restraining yourself. "Alright, fine. People didn’t idolize gods because they were good or moral. It was about their power, their strength, their control over things humans couldn’t understand. Kind of like how people have favorite athletes."

His frown deepens, but you press on.

"Take football, for example. You probably admire someone for how they play on the field, right? Doesn’t mean you have to like them as a person. People separated admiration for what the gods could do from how they behaved. Same concept."

Rin doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond you. Finally, he mutters, "The gods were cruel. What part of that is worth admiring?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rin, it’s mythology. It’s not supposed to be a blueprint for good behavior— it’s symbolic. The gods were reflections of human nature: flawed, complicated, and sometimes cruel. People admired their power, their ability to control life and death, nature, and fate. It wasn’t about liking them; it was about respecting what they represented.”

He tilts his head, his gaze sharp but oddly contemplative. “So they were admired out of fear?”

“Not just fear,” you say, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, alright, maybe. They were storytellers’ way of explaining the unexplainable. Why the sun rises, why storms happen, why people fall in love or die tragically. The gods made sense of chaos.”

Rin crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. “Still sounds messed up.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But that’s humanity for you. Messy, complicated, and just trying to make sense of things.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, his eyes flicking toward the window as though deep in thought. Then, with a faint scoff, he looks back at you. “You talk too much.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the one who started asking questions.”

His lips twitch, forming an unimpressed glower, but he looks away before you can confirm it. “You still didn’t explain why he wanted Persephone with him.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe he thought she made the underworld less miserable. Maybe he thought she brought some light into his life. Or maybe he was just selfish. You’d have to ask him yourself.”

He leans back against the headboard, his arms still crossed. “Sounds stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Kind of like a certain someone I know who chases everyone out of his room because he doesn’t know how to ask for peace and quiet?”

Rin glares at you, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a walking storm cloud,” you counter, stepping back toward the door. “But at least we’re consistent. Let me know if you have any more deep philosophical questions.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he mutters, though his gaze lingers on you a second longer than necessary as you leave.

———————————————————-

Just like that, you’d somehow become the resident expert on Greek mythology within a matter of days. Every day for the past week, Rin had asked for a new myth. It wasn’t part of your job description, nor anything you’d ever imagined doing during a hospital shift, but there you were, recounting tales of gods, heroes, and monsters to an injured football prodigy with a perpetually sour expression.

When you’d finally worked up the nerve to ask him why he suddenly had such an appetite for mythology, his initial response had been dismissive, a casual shrug paired with, “Patients are entitled to whatever they want. You’re the one who said that.”

You’d raised a skeptical eyebrow, refusing to let him off that easily. “Nice try, Itoshi, but that doesn’t explain why you want them. Come on, I’ve been working my ass up to come up with the abundant demand. You owe me that. What’s the real reason?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the blanket as he muttered, “It keeps my mind off football.”

It was a surprisingly candid admission, one that softened your stance despite yourself. Football was clearly the center of his universe, his world, and now, sidelined by his injury, that world was out of reach. If listening to ancient myths helped distract him from the ache of being benched, then who were you to deny him that small comfort?

“Well,” you’d replied, sliding into the chair by his bedside with a small smile, “You’re lucky your doctor isn’t someone who goes by the book,” You swiftly check your watch, and continue, “I’m supposed to be filling in charts.”

For the first time, his lips had twitched—not quite a smile, but not the usual scowl either.

On Monday, he had reluctantly admitted to asking for a pick-me-up from the last time you’d told him a myth. He had claimed he didn’t like the first one, but by the end of your conversation, you could tell it had gotten him pretty down. You didn’t understand why, because to you, it was just a myth, but you had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t the myth itself that had bothered him, but something else among what you’d said had probably resonated with him a little too much. At the end of his request, he’d made you swear not to tell anyone, in consequence of which he would besmirch your professional career, and drag your name to the depths of hell.

As such, you did not question him further, and told him the tale of Perseus and Andromeda. You weren’t sure he would find it all that interesting, but you’d found it quite sweet anyway.

"Fine," you had said, pausing in the doorway. "The myth of Perseus and Andromeda is pretty sweet. You’ll like it, I think."

You grabbed a chair, plopped it down near his bed, and sat with an exaggerated sigh. Rin raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt as you launched into the myth.

"So, Andromeda was the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, a king and queen. Cassiopeia, being, uh, very full of herself, claimed she and her daughter were more beautiful than the Nereids—you know, sea nymphs. So the sea god Poseidon? Not thrilled about that, you can imagine."

Rin nods slowly, as if urging you to continue, though his skeptical expression suggests he’s not sold on where this is going.

"So because he was pissed, Poseidon sent a sea monster to terrorize their kingdom as punishment. Naturally, the people freaked out, and the only solution the oracle gave them was to sacrifice Andromeda to the monster."

"So her own family left her to die?," Rin cuts in, his voice low and sharp.

"Basically, yeah," you reply, giving him a rueful look. "They chained her up to a rock, and waited for the sea monster to kill her. But then Perseus shows up, fresh off his victory against Medusa, and he sees Andromeda all chained up. He asks her a few questions, and decides to rescue her. Because, you know, he’s a hero and that’s what they do."

"And he killed the monster?" Rin’s voice is a little more interested now, his earlier skepticism fading.

"Yeah, Perseus used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. Then, as the story goes, he married Andromeda. There’s more, of course, but that’s the gist."

Rin leans back, his arms crossing over his chest as he processes the tale. "So Andromeda gets punished for something her mother did, and Perseus just shows up to fix everything? That’s not sweet. That’s fucking awful."

"That’s one way to look at it," you admit. "Another is that Andromeda’s story is about redemption. She starts as a victim of her family’s arrogance and ends as someone who gets saved and finds a new life. But I mean, yeah, it’s mythology. It’s not exactly known for fairness."

He doesn’t respond for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. Then, almost grudgingly, he mutters, "At least he fought for her. Took action. Didn’t just leave after making promises."

You study him for a beat, tempted to press, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you stand, brushing imaginary dust off your scrubs. "There you go. Storytime’s over. If you have more questions, I’ll bill you for them."

On Tuesday, you decided to surprise Rin with a new myth. He hadn’t asked for another one the day before, but you figured his curiosity wasn’t something that faded quickly.

To your surprise, Rin seemed distracted, staring at the bedside table and muttering something under his breath about how he didn’t want to hear about myths today.

"I prepared one for today!" you announced, holding the notes you’d scribbled down. "You can’t just blow off my hard work like this!"

His gaze snapped to you, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “You think I’m a child?”

“What? No, I— Rin, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t need bedtime stories,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “They’re not bedtime stories, Rin. They’re Greek myths. Or do you often tell kids about violence and murder to help them fall asleep?”

Rin shrugged, unfazed by your exasperation. “My brother used to tell me horror stories before bed. Never stopped me from sleeping.”

Your face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and mild horror. “Your brother—how old were you when this happened?”

“Six or seven, I think. Can’t remember,” he said nonchalantly. For the first time since you’d walked in, his gaze met yours, holding steady.

“Doesn’t sound like the best brother to me,” you murmured as you began unwrapping the bandage around his knee, carefully checking for any swelling.

“He was a good brother,” Rin replied, his tone softer, distant. His eyes seemed to lose focus, and for a moment, he was somewhere else entirely.

You hesitated, unsure if pushing forward was a good idea, but you took the risk anyway. “Well, speaking of siblings,” you said cautiously, your hands massaging the surrounding muscles, “the myth I was about to share is about Pollux and Castor. Thought you might find it interesting.”

Rin grunted, his expression unreadable, but the absence of a sharp retort was all the permission you needed to begin.

"Alright," you begin, settling back into the chair you’d just vacated, bandages and medical treatment in hand, and beckon Rin to settle his leg near the chair. "Castor and Pollux were twins. Thing is, they weren’t exactly identical. Castor was mortal because he was the son of Tyndareus, a mortal king. Pollux, on the other hand, was immortal, being the son of Zeus, god of thunder, King of the Gods."

Rin raises an eyebrow. "Different fathers? How does that work?"

"I don’t… I don’t think that was the main focus when they taught the tale. Just go with it," you reply. "Anyway, the two of them were inseparable. They were called the Dioscuri— great warriors and super tight-knit. They did everything together: fought battles, raced horses… the kind of bond only siblings can share, you know?” For a moment, you let out a little laugh. Of course, he knows. He’s a sibling as well, isn’t he?

"And then?" Rin prompts, his tone less sarcastic now, leaning just a fraction forward.

"Well, like all Greek myths, things took a prett tragic turn," you say. "During one of their adventures, Castor was killed in a fight. Pollux was devastated. He couldn’t imagine life without his brother, so he begged Zeus to help."

"And Zeus actually did something for once?" Rin’s skepticism is palpable.

A giggle escapes you. "Well, yeah, surprisingly. Zeus offered Pollux a choice: he could either keep his immortality and live alone, or give up half of it to share with Castor so they could be together. Pollux didn’t hesitate—he chose to share his immortality with his brother."

Rin’s lips press into a thin line, but his eyes stay locked on you. "What happened next?"

"They became the constellation Gemini," you explain, gesturing vaguely upward as if the stars were visible through the hospital ceiling. "Zeus placed them in the sky so they’d never be separated again. Immortal in their own way, together for eternity."

Rin leans back, his expression thoughtful. "So Pollux gave up part of himself to bring Castor back."

"Yeah," you say, standing up again. "It’s a story about love and sacrifice. Not the kind of love myths usually focus on—no drama, no romance—just pure loyalty between brothers. Pretty refreshing, actually."

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze distant, as if searching for something you can’t see.

"Anyway," you add lightly, breaking the silence, "don’t go getting any ideas about asking Zeus for favors, alright? He’s got a worse track record than the hospital vending machines."

Rin snorts softly, the sound almost a laugh, and you take that as your cue to leave. As the door closes behind you, you can’t help but wonder what about the story struck a chord with him.

But as your own mind wanders places you’re not sure it’s supposed to, Rin remains still, staring at the ceiling. The story of Castor and Pollux circles his mind, clinging like an unshakable echo. He doesn't know why he'd let you recount it—maybe he was just bored, maybe it was something in the way you spoke about myths that made them seem less like ancient stories and more like glimpses into people’s lives.

But now, the tale won’t let go.

Pollux couldn’t imagine a life without Castor, Rin thinks. He gave up his immortality for him. That kind of bond... it hits closer to home than he wants to admit.

Sae flashes through his thoughts like an unwelcome specter. The older brother who had once been his everything—his Castor, his constant, the one he’d followed like a shadow. They’d shared dreams once, the same dream of reaching the pinnacle of football, side by side. But unlike Pollux, Sae had left him behind, choosing his path and leaving Rin to stumble through the pieces of their fractured bond.

Would Sae have given up anything for me? The question digs at Rin, sour and raw, though he already knows the answer. Sae’s actions had always been clear: ambition first, family second.

But Pollux didn’t care about what was fair, Rin reminds himself. He cared about his brother. He gave up half his immortality, even if Castor wasn’t perfect.

Rin’s jaw tightens, and he glares at the bandages wrapping his knee, the evidence of his own imperfection. Injured, benched, and stuck in a hospital room— Sae probably wouldn’t even know. Or care.

A flicker of resentment rises in his chest, but it’s dulled by something softer. Pollux’s choice wasn’t about pride or fairness. It was about love, loyalty, and the refusal to let the bond between brothers be severed.

And Rin hates how much he misses that. He hates that no matter how much he resents Sae, there’s still a part of him—buried deep beneath all the bitterness—that would give anything to have what they’d once shared.

The door creaks open slightly as a nurse peeks in, but Rin doesn’t even glance up. "I don’t need anything," he mutters, dismissing her before she can speak.

She leaves, and he’s alone again, the story still rattling in his head. Castor and Pollux were reunited, placed in the stars together for eternity.

———————————————————-

On Wednesday, you hadn’t told Rin a myth. Your schedule had been jam-packed, leaving you incapable of even swinging by his room for a check-up.

“I think it’s for the better, honestly.”

You turned sharply to Anri, a nurse you had befriended when she had helped you find OR 2 back in first year, who was buried in reviewing post-op files, frowning. “What ?”

She shrugged and swiveled her chair to face you.

“I’m all for a forbidden romance, but seriously, y/n, two weeks ago you were calling him a total asshat. And I overheard a nurse say he was calling you a ‘bitch on wheels.’ Now you’re… what? Inventing bedtime stories to tell him while you pull up a chair to his bedside table?”

There were plenty of things wrong with that statement, but you held back and let her continue.

“Look, all I’m saying is I’ve noticed. And I’m not the only one. Sometimes you’ve gotta swallow a bad pill to get better, and this”—she jabbed a finger at the desk for emphasis—“this is a bad pill.”

“It’s not romance, Anri, it’s—”

“It is romance, y/n!” she cut you off, her voice rising. “You like him. I get it, okay? And I want you to be in a relationship, I really do! But is it worth risking your medical license?”

“Who says I need to—”

The redhead raised a hand to stop you, her expression softening. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. But think about it. It’s a line, and crossing it? It’s not worth it. Not for anyone.”

Her words lingered in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You opened your mouth to argue, to deny, but nothing came out. Instead, you picked up your charts and left, her voice still echoing in your mind.

"She’s totally overreacting," Oliver’s voice echoes through the hallway as he falls into step beside you. “You just gotta wait it out. That’s all there is to it.”

“God, not you too,” you groan, clutching your clipboard a little tighter.

“Yeah,” he begins, shrugging casually, “I mean, I’m a ladies’ man. I’ve been there before— And I don’t think you should listen to what some stuck-up nurse has to say. Take it from me” He glances at you sideways, his expression slightly comical, “The amount of twelve year olds outside of this hospital is lethal. You should get to him before they do. I heard they bite. And they use their signs to hit people.”

You roll your eyes, “Take it from you? Because you’re a so-called professional, I presume?” You pick up your pace, but he keeps up.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I mean, it’s tricky business. But I’d say, he probably doesn’t see a lot of genuine people walking around in his field. This can be good for you and him”, he takes a breath, and, looking you in the eye, he continues.

“I’m serious, y/n! If you blow it with him, you might never find anyone else again .”

You stop abruptly, turning to face him with a scowl. “Are you saying no one else will want me?”

“No, I’m just— he’s the only guy on planet earth that can be potentially as stuck up as you are,” he says, gesturing vaguely as though it explains everything. “Just hold it in for this case, and when he’s not your patient anymore, you can do whatever.”

You turn around in retaliation, “Are you—” You whirl around to face Oliver, your voice laced with frustration. “If someone needs to hold it in, it’s you. You hooked up with 3 nurses last week. And 4 of your interns! You flirted with 2 attendings yesterday! ”

Your voice draws in a few unwanted stares from the nurses, causing you to quiet down, while Oliver raises his hands, palms out, but you don’t give him a chance to respond.

“I don’t like him,” you continue, you whisper firmly, “and even if I did, I would know how to hold it in without the help of a certified hospital whore! I’m an adult, not some teenage girl gushing over a hallway crush. I am fully conscious of my actions, and I am painfully aware of the rules set by this hospital because I'm not stupid!”

Without giving him another second to argue, you turn on your heel and stride down the hallway, leaving him standing there.

But of course, Oliver can’t help himself. His voice calls after you, accompanied with a frown.

“You know, if it comes down to it, I really prefer the word slut. Whore feels demeaning.”

You don’t look back, though Anri’s words linger like a weight pressing against your chest.

On Thursday, Rin found himself staring at the clock, wondering why you hadn’t come by yet. It had been two days, after all.

He wouldn’t admit it— not even to himself— but the hours felt heavier in your absence. His time in the hospital was nearing its end, and the thought of leaving without saying something gnawed at him. You’d probably flip out if he left without a word, much like the time you’d discovered he’d removed his bandage and neglected the prescribed cream for two days straight.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts as a nurse entered the room, her demeanor cautious, as if stepping into a lion’s den. She carried a small card, her movements stiff and deliberate as she placed it on the bedside table next to the wilting flowers someone had left days ago. Without a word, she retreated as quickly as she had come, leaving Rin alone once more.

He sighed, leaning back into the pillows, and cast a glance at the card. It was pale blue, with a generic “Get Well Soon” emblazoned on the front. He didn’t even need to open it to know it wasn’t from you.

The thought made his chest tighten slightly. The nurses still scurried away from him, despite his recent efforts to dial back his temper. He’d stopped chasing them weeks ago— really, he had— but apparently, his reputation was following him around like a shadow.

What’s the point of trying if nothing changes?

He turned his head toward the flowers, the small card sitting innocuously nearby. His jaw tightened. For a second, he thought about crumpling it up and tossing it into the trash. Instead, he reached for the card and turned it over in his hand.

“...Probably not from her anyway,” he muttered to himself, as though saying it aloud would somehow make it sting less.

Rin hesitated for a moment before opening the card. The sharp edges of the paper felt out of place in his calloused hands, but curiosity won out. Inside, the neat, precise handwriting immediately caught his attention.

"Itoshi,

Rest up. The team needs you back in one piece. We’ll handle the field until then.

- PXG”

A faint grimace one could eventually interpret as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Of course, it was from them. PXG wasn’t exactly known for warm, heartfelt messages, but this was about as close as they got. They didn’t expect him to change, didn’t expect him to soften. They just wanted their star striker back, sharp and ruthless as ever.

The smirk faded quickly. He wasn’t sure why, but the card felt hollow. He glanced at the flowers again, brow furrowing. They were beginning to droop, petals curling inward like they were giving up. Rin’s fingers tapped idly against the card, his mind wandering.

This is what it’s always been. Keep moving forward. Keep winning. Anything else is just noise.

But lately, things felt… different. The noise had become a presence—an infuriating, stubborn presence that glared at him with just as much fire as he gave. Someone who dared to talk back, who rolled their eyes at his antics but still showed up anyway.

He clenched his jaw and tossed the card onto the bedside table. He wasn’t going to think about it. You were late for your check-in (inexcusably late, but if you made it today, he’d try to work up the energy to forgive you) and that was probably all it was. You were busy, and he was overthinking things.

Still, when the door creaked open a moment later, his head snapped up, his heart betraying him with an almost imperceptible jolt.

But it wasn’t you.

Another nurse entered, this one carrying a tray with his afternoon medication. Rin’s face hardened, and he leaned back into the pillows with a scowl.

“Medication time,” she said softly, keeping her distance.

“Just leave it there,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the desk.

The nurse hesitated but obeyed, setting the tray down and scurrying out like she couldn’t leave fast enough. Rin’s eyes followed her retreating figure, his mood souring further.

She’ll come by eventually, he thought, his gaze flicking back to the door as it closed. She always does.

By the time the sun rose on Friday, Rin was positively fuming. He couldn’t get over the fact that you hadn’t come to discharge him. It wasn’t like he’d been expecting some grand farewell, but he figured you’d at least show up. The guy from yesterday was competent enough, sure, but there was something grating about his overly cheery demeanor and his unsolicited stories about his son.

Rin scoffed at the memory. Calling someone a twelve year old genius didn’t generate much excitement when the statement itself came from a doctor of all people.

He flexed his fingers absentmindedly, feeling the ghost of a soccer ball’s weight in his hands. It was stupid to even be dwelling on it. He’d be out of this hospital and back on the field soon enough. That was the point of all this—healing, recovering, moving forward.

But his thoughts kept circling back.

The last time you’d come to see him, you’d been your usual exasperating self. Glaring, scolding, throwing medical jargon his way as though he’d ever care enough to remember it. Yet, between all the banter and the tension, there had been a sort of steadiness.

You were never one to sugarcoat things, and Rin had come to appreciate that. Maybe that’s why he was so agitated now. This hospital stay had been a drag, but you’d made it tolerable, even interesting.

The knock on his door broke through his thoughts.

“Come in,” he said gruffly, his eyes narrowing as he sat up straighter in bed.

To his disappointment— and growing annoyance— it wasn’t you. Another nurse entered, clipboard in hand.

“Itoshi-san,” she began carefully, “I’ve brought your discharge papers. You’ll just need to sign them, and then someone from the team can escort you out whenever you’re ready.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t expected to be discharged for another two days. After a long pause, he nodded curtly and took the clipboard, signing his name with quick, precise strokes.

As the nurse turned to leave, Rin finally spoke up, his tone sharper than he intended.

“Where’s Y/N?”

The nurse blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh… Dr. L/n is on a different rotation today. I believe she’s in surgery most of the day.”

Rin’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked away, dismissing her with a wave.

So that was it. You were too busy to stop by. Logical, reasonable, expected.

Still, as Rin swung his legs over the side of the bed and prepared to leave, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest.

———————————————————-

You couldn’t tell if getting pulled from Rin’s case was a good thing. On one hand, you wouldn't have to deal with his constant arrogance, permanent frown, or smart remarks anymore. On the other hand, the visits had become a routine, and getting pulled from a certain routine takes a toll on people. Especially when said routine has been replaced with something worse.

The sounds of clips and metal tools clacking against each other in the OR were unnerving. Being a surgical resident assisting in her first lung transplant ever was a far cry from dealing with an injured athlete.

“Suction.”

The attending's voice cuts through the tense air, commanding and calm. Your hands moved instinctively, grasping the suction tool and working to clear the surgical field. Every motion was precise, deliberate, and yet, your nerves thrummed like a taut string.

You kept your eyes on the open thoracic cavity. A part of you was in awe of the doctors working on the transplant— the way the attending's hands danced across the cavity, navigating the mess full of blood vessels and tissue. Another part of you was screaming internally, worried you might miss a step or fumble at the worst possible moment.

”Keep it steady,” the attending sternly said, as your instrument wavered for the briefest second.

”Yes, doctor,” you replied, voice tight.

In that moment, you realized something unexpected: the steady banter and sharp-edged humor of Rin’s room seemed almost... calming in comparison to the sterile tension of the OR. There, you could throw back a quip or roll your eyes without fear of dire consequences. Here, every move had the weight of life and death.

As the attending began the anastomosis, joining the pulmonary artery to the donor lung, your focus sharpened. There was no room for error. The room was heavy with concentration, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors the only sound besides the surgeon's measured instructions.

You exhaled slowly. Routine or not, this was a challenge you’d always dreamed of facing. And despite the anxiety, a spark of determination flared within you. You’d proved you could handle an ACL tear with no assistance— if a lung transplant was thrown your way, you’ll deal with it.

The first signs that something was wrong came almost imperceptibly—a slight falter in the rhythm of the beeping monitors, a whisper of uncertainty in the attending’s voice as he called for another instrument.

“Suture,” he demanded sharply, and you scrambled to pass it, your hand trembling ever so slightly as you did. The air in the OR felt thicker now, like it was closing in.

Then came the sudden, shrill alarm of the heart monitor.

“Blood pressure’s dropping,” the anesthesiologist announced, her voice calm but clipped. “Seventy over forty.”

“Clamp the artery!” the attending barked. The scrub nurse moved quickly, handing over the vascular clamp. You watched as the attending’s hands worked faster, his movements less fluid and more urgent than before.

“Heart rate’s falling,” the anesthesiologist warned again, her voice tighter this time.

Your breath hitched as you stared at the patient, your suction tool frozen mid-air. It felt like the world had tilted on its axis. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not here, not in this room with some of the most skilled surgeons you’d ever seen.

“Doctor L/N, focus!” the attending snapped, snapping you out of your paralysis. You immediately resumed suctioning, but the pit in your stomach deepened.

“I’m seeing a tear in the pulmonary artery,” the attending muttered under his breath. He didn’t look up as he issued the next command. “Get me more gauze—now.”

The nurse moved to comply, but it was clear that the bleeding was already too much. You could see the blood pooling in the cavity, no matter how much suction you applied. Your gloves were slick with blood, the sterile world of the OR dissolving into chaos.

“Pressure’s tanking—fifty over thirty!” The anesthesiologist’s voice cut through the room like a knife.

“Damn it,” the attending hissed, leaning closer to the patient. “We need to stop this bleed or we’re going to lose her.”

The seconds stretched into eternity. You felt helpless, your limited role as a resident confining you to the sidelines of a battle that was rapidly being lost. Every beep of the monitors seemed to grow louder, more frantic, until they finally gave way to a single, flat tone.

“No pulse,” someone murmured, though the words echoed like a shout in the silent room.

“Start compressions,” the attending ordered, his voice now devoid of its earlier sharpness. You stepped back as the scrub nurse took over, pressing rhythmically against the patient’s chest while the attending worked furiously to repair the damage.

“Adrenaline, one milligram,” the anesthesiologist called, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.

But even as everyone in the OR fought to revive the patient, a grim certainty settled over the room. Minutes passed, feeling like hours, and the flatline on the monitor remained unwavering.

Finally, the attending slumped back, his gloves and gown stained deep red. His voice was heavy as he spoke the words you’d never wanted to hear.

“Alright, I’m calling it.” Shooting a look at his watch, he quickly declared what you’d dreaded to hear the most, “Time of death, 10:47 AM”

The room was silent except for the hum of the machines and the shuffle of exhausted feet. You stood there, frozen, staring at the still figure on the table. You’d known, logically, that not every surgery ended in success. But knowing it in theory and experiencing it firsthand were two entirely different things.

“Clean up,” the attending said quietly, already removing his gloves and gown. He looked at you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. “There’s always next time. Dr L/n, you’re free to go.”

You nodded numbly, your hands shaking as you removed your own gloves.

As soon as you pushed the button and make your way out of the OR, the sobs wreck through your body like a storm, uncontrollable and raw. You press your palms against your face, as if that could somehow push the pain away, but it only makes the ache in your chest sharper. The hallway is lit with horrible, fluorescent lights, and offers little to no comfort, its emptiness amplifying the sound of your heartbreak.

The patient on the table was a thirteen year old girl with whom you’d worked with for two months. Leah’s laugh echoes in your mind, a cruel reminder of the life that was now gone. You’d made promises to her, assurances you thought you could keep. “You’ll be just fine,” you had said, your voice confident and steady, even when she’d looked at you with wide, worried eyes. But what was the point of words when they ended in this? When you couldn’t keep her safe?

She’d trusted you. Her bubbly little voice still rang in your ears, calling you “sister from another mother,” and now it felt like a dagger to the heart. You remember the games you’d played to distract her from the pain, the little jokes that always made her giggle, the way her face lit up when you walked into the room. How could someone so vibrant, so full of life, just be… gone?

Your hands tremble as you clench them into fists, your nails digging into your palms to ground yourself in something, anything, other than the overwhelming grief. But it doesn’t help. Nothing does.

The weight of the day crushes you. The guilt is suffocating, a vicious cycle of “what ifs” and “if onlys.” What if you’d caught something sooner? What if you’d advocated harder? What if you’d somehow done more? The logical part of your brain, the part trained to understand that not every battle can be won, doesn’t stand a chance against the emotions consuming you.

After what feels like an eternity, the tears stop, not because the pain has lessened but because your body has nothing left to give. You sit there, hollow and numb, staring at the sterile white walls. You’re not sure how much time has passed—minutes? Hours? It doesn’t matter.

The sound of distant footsteps pulls you back to reality. You quickly wipe at your face, though it’s a futile effort; your eyes are red and swollen, your cheeks streaked with tear tracks. You don’t care. Let them see. Let them know how broken you feel.

But as the footsteps grow louder, you instinctively steel yourself, pushing the emotions down into the deepest recesses of your mind. There’s no room for vulnerability here, not in this place where strength is expected at all times.

"Y/n?"

You quickly rub your palms across your cheeks, desperate to dry your tears and wipe away the redness in your eyes. Your attempt at composure is poor at best, and the sting of crying makes your face feel heavy.

"Uh, yeah, I’ll, um— I’m going," you stammer, avoiding eye contact as you push yourself up from the bed.

As you turn to leave, you collide with a firm chest. Startled, you curse under your breath and glance up, only to freeze when you meet Rin’s sharp, questioning gaze.

“Are you… okay?” he asks, his voice lower than usual, almost cautious.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is cold and distant, your gaze glued to the floor in a desperate attempt to hide the tears staining your cheeks.

Rin’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to speak again. “I got lost. Why are you here? What happened?”

“I’m here because this is my workplace. You’re not supposed to be down here. This part is off-limits to patients.”

“I’m not a patient anymore.”

“Fine, it’s off-limits to empty-headed footballers. So leave, will you?”

“I’m trying to be nice.”

“Genuinely nice people don’t usually tell others when they’re being nice.”

“Well, I’m not a genuinely nice person, am I?”

You try to deflect, forcing a weak smile as you mumble, "Are you really asking? Because I really need to talk about this." Your voice cracks, betraying your strong appearance you’d crafted, and you can feel your lower lip quivering as the tears threaten to spill again.

Rin takes half a step back, his brows furrowed in discomfort. "Well, now I’m not so sure I’m asking," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You lose the fragile grip on your emotions, a single tear escapes, sliding down your cheek, and your lower lip wobbles again, and Rin stiffens. His eyes dart between yours and the tear as though it’s a puzzle he doesn’t know how to solve.

"No, um, joke," he blurts, his words tripping over themselves. "I was joking. Seriously."

But it’s too late. You close the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck in a sudden, desperate hug. His entire body goes rigid, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides as if someone has just activated his fight-or-flight response.

"You’re an asshat," you sniffle, burying your face into his shoulder, "but I really, really need someone right now."

Rin is silent for a moment, clearly at war with himself. Then, with an almost audible sigh, his arms hesitantly come up to rest around your back.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "Well, you’re a bitch on wheels."

You let out a watery laugh, your grip around him tightening. "I know," you whisper back, your voice shaky but lighter than before.

Rin relaxes, just slightly, his hold on you firm but careful. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, but the warmth of his embrace feels genuine. For once, neither of you have anything snarky to say, and the silence speaks louder than any words could. His hand slips from your waist to find your own, and your breath catches as your fingers meet. Your eyes widen against the curve of his neck when he takes your hand and, with surprising gentleness, guides you toward the hospital beds near the wall. The fragile silence settles around you like a bubble, one neither of you dares to break.

Cautiously, you lean your head against his shoulder, half-expecting him to stiffen or pull away, or maybe to even drop-kick you onto the hospital floor. But he doesn’t.

Instead, the steady rise and fall of his chest is almost soothing, and the faint scent of muscade, rain, grass, and cologne weaves between you like an invisible blanket. It’s intoxicating.

Strangely enough, this feels about a thousand times more intimate than it has with any of your past relationships. Things get even more strange when you realise: you don’t want this moment to end. Ever. You start telling yourself you must’ve been around too many questionable medicaments when the only thought that echoes in your mind is the one that tells you that even forever wouldn’t be long enough.

“One of my patients died,” you admit, your words trembling as much as your hands. “I… I really liked her. She was so young…” You swipe a hand under your nose, sniffling as you try to keep yourself together.

Rin doesn’t say anything at first. His shoulders shift, and he glances at you briefly, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of such raw emotion. “Oh,” he mutters finally, his voice low.

“I’m not—I don’t want to seem pushy,” you add quickly, your words rushing out in an effort to fill the silence. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I just really need to talk.”

“Sure,” Rin shrugs, leaning back slightly.

You take a shaky breath, your voice climbing a pitch as tears threaten to spill again. “It’s just… people have been on my ass about everything. Torres is counting on me so much, Leah’s parents probably hate me because I told them she was going to be fine, and now she’s—she’s gone.”

Your hands fly up as you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning your head back against the wall behind you. You can feel the familiar sting of tears building again, but before they can spill, Rin’s elbow nudges you lightly, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Wasn’t your fault though, right?” he says, his tone almost casual. “You’re not a real doctor yet.”

You whip your head around to glare at him. “I am a real doctor. Just not an attending.”

Rin raises an eyebrow. “Don’t know what that means.”

Despite the tears brimming in your eyes, you let out a scoff, shuffling around to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Fine. I’ll explain it to you.” You sniffle again and swipe at your face before continuing.

“So… there are interns. They don’t do much unless someone decides to throw them a bone. Maybe an appy once in a blue moon if you’re feeling generous. Most of the time, they’re stuck filling out post-ops and running errands.”

Your voice falters slightly, and your mind flashes back to Leah. Her post-op report is probably sitting on someone’s desk right now, untouched. The thought makes your throat tighten, and you’re about to lose it again when Rin nudges you once more.

“But I know you’re not an intern, so what are you?”

“I’m a resident,” you manage to say after a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. “I’ve got interns to manage, but I’m also like my attending’s intern. It’s… complicated, but I’m somewhere in the middle.”

Rin leans his head back, arms crossed over his chest. “So what’s an attending?”

You let out a watery laugh, swiping at your face again. “You seriously don’t know? After being stuck in here for that long?”

A small smile draws on Rin’s face. This was pathetic. Pretending to be stupid just to keep someone’s mind off tough times is weak, and laughable.

“No, I don’t. I’m an empty-headed footballer, remember?”

You laugh, for the second time this evening. Too bad. It’s not like everyone would know he’d been weak and pathetic for you, anyway.

———————————————————-

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Thank You!

Dear y/n,

It’s been a bit of a challenge getting your name out of that stubborn, football-obsessed son of mine (I’m sure you’re well aware of this!), but I wanted to take a moment to personally thank you for all of your hard work. Rin is back on the field and his knee is performing miracles—thanks to you!

I couldn’t make it in person to express my gratitude, but I wanted to extend an invitation: in a week, one of Rin’s cousins is getting married. The entire family would be thrilled to see you there and offer our thanks in person, including the bride herself! I understand this is short notice, so please don’t feel pressured to accept. But if you do, we would be absolutely delighted.

Sayuri Itoshi, Ph.D.

Professor of Economics

Department of Economics

University of Tokyo

7-3-1 Hongo, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo 113-8654, Japan

“Oh. My God.”

Livy is leaning over your computer, hands on the back of your chair, her eyes wide as she stares at the screen. When she speaks up again, it’s with an excitement that makes you wince. “You should go,” she practically squeals, spinning your chair to face her. “I can help you pick out a dress!”

Then, with a finger tapping the corner of her mouth in mock contemplation, she bemoans, “Well, now you have to go. If you don’t, the idea of helping you pick out a dress for your first date will be etched into my mind forever, tormenting me until the end of time. And it will all be your fault.”

Her theatrics reach a dramatic climax as she locks her arms around you, shaking you lightly while declaring, “But thankfully, my beautiful, smart best friend would never let me suffer this way. Oh, how grateful I am! How lucky!”

“Cut it out,” you grit through clenched teeth. “I’m not going.”

“What!? No, you can’t not go! Remember how you said you’d never torture me mentally? This is torture. You’re torturing me. Please stop torturing me.”

You’re about to retort when Oliver comes into view, clipboard in hand. His smirk almost makes you want to bolt from the hospital entirely, while Livy continues twisting her body as though in invisible agony.

“You should go,” Oliver says casually, leaning against the desk.

“I don’t take advice from whores.”

Oliver’s jaw drops in indignation. “No— I told you! You can’t call me that; it’s demeaning! There used to be a time where you respected my wishes. Now you just humiliate me in hospital hallways.” He spins on his heel dramatically, crossing his arms and it’s clear talking to you is no longer in his prospects.

You smile, turning back to your computer with a fleeting sense of victory— only for your heart to drop when you catch sight of the screen. The faint "Sent!" animation flashes in the corner, and dread floods you as you scramble to check your sent emails.

Your worst fears are confirmed.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Thank You!

Dear Mrs. Itoshi,

I couldn’t be happier that your son has regained full mobility. His physiotherapist certainly did an excellent job. As for me, I am deeply grateful for your kind words and could never bring myself to refuse such an honor. It was a pleasure working with your son, and I am glad to have been of help.

Sincerely,

Y/N L/N, M.D.

Orthopedic Surgery Resident, PGY-4

Blue Lock Medical Center

Department of Orthopedic Surgery

Your City, Your State/Country

You stare at the screen in horror, while Livy smirks in malice behind you. “I did tell you you were going.”

———————————————————-

"Okay, so. There are three checkpoints we need to go through," Livy declares solemnly, pushing her glasses up her nose with the air of someone about to deliver groundbreaking news.

"I need to go through," you correct her, not bothering to look up from your computer.

She glares at you over her papers. "Actually, I’ve decided that, considering the absolute disaster you are, you’re going to need me during the dress fitting, the flight, and the wedding."

You whip your head toward her so fast your neck twinges. "The wedding?!"

"Hm? Oh, yeah," she says nonchalantly, flipping a page like she hasn’t just dropped a bombshell. "I texted Itoshi’s mom. She loves me, by the way. Well, maybe not more than you, but she definitely loves me."

"You texted her?!" you screech.

"How else was I supposed to ask if I could come?" she replies, tone impossibly casual.

"Wait—hold on," you say, holding up your hand. "You have her number?!"

Livy smirks, leaning back in her chair. "You don’t?"

For a moment, all you can do is gape at her, your jaw practically hitting the floor. "Livy, how the hell do you have Sayuri Itoshi’s number?"

"Easy," she says, ticking off her fingers. "I’m charming, resourceful, and clearly the brains of this operation."

You bury your face in your hands. "You can’t just invite yourself to someone else’s family wedding!”

"Why not?" she asks, sounding entirely unbothered. "Mrs. Itoshi said it’s fine. She actually sounded excited. Something about the more, the merrier."

You stare at her, mouth agape. "You’re insane."

"And you’re welcome," Livy says with a smug grin. "Oh, and I told her I’d sit next to you at the reception. You know, to keep you from embarrassing yourself."

"Livy!" you groan, leaning back in your chair.

"What?" she shrugs. "She loves me."

Your eyes almost pop out of your sockets

#1 CHECKPOINT : FITTING

“Livy, I can’t move. This dress sucks. And it’s ugly. I feel like a geometry shape, the dress is actually made of metal. I cannot move.”

”It’s not ugly, it’s… special. I like the red, it’s very— joyful! You know, merry Christmas and all that. It’s cute…” at the frown on your face, Liv can only grimace. “— ish?”

“No, it’s not.” You draw the curtains harshly, and turn around to get this horrid dress off from you. “How did you say we were gonna get there again?” You grit your teeth as you attempt to open the zipper on the back.

“By plane. Sayuri sent me the tickets. We leave in two days by the way, so hurry up with the dress.”

You draw the curtain back, and show your horrified expression through the gap.

“What? You—” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your index and thumb, inhaling sharply in a desperate attempt to rein in your spiraling thoughts. “Two days? How is there going to be enough time to get everything done?” You shove a bright red dress back through the curtain, letting out an exasperated groan. “And this is too red.”

“No, I— Y/n, this is a Christmas wedding!” Livy huffs from the other side. “It has to be on theme. Red is on theme!”

“There are plenty of Christmas colors to work with that aren’t bright, in-your-face red,” you argue, already regretting your choice to come along.

This time, Livy groans loudly, the sound dripping with frustration. “White is out, green is boring, and that leaves us with red. I never said it had to be bright red anyway!”

Her words make you pause mid-turn in your cabin. You glance at the dresses she’s forced on you, a sea of reds ranging from deep burgundy to literal crimson that reminds you of your nephew’s fire truck toy. They glare back at you mockingly, each shade more vibrant than the last. Even with the heavy curtain separating you from Livy’s persistent presence, you resist the urge to roll your eyes— though you doubt she’d care if she could see you.

How did you even get here? You’d been adamant about not going along with this. Sure, you hadn’t sent that email, but you definitely hadn’t consented to being dragged to an impromptu shopping trip for someone else’s Christmas wedding. Yet here you are, drowning in an actual tsunami of reds, your fingers sifting through material and nuance options as your mind drifts somewhere you wish it wouldn’t.

The memory of that night creeps in, despite being as unwelcome as it is. You try to shove it aside, but the image of Rin lingers, sharp and intrusive. It had been after that god-awful surgery, when the stress and exhaustion had left you raw and exposed. You shouldn’t have hugged him. You really shouldn’t have hugged him, and yet you did.

And now, no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop replaying it in your head. Did he think it was more than what it was? Did you think it was more than what it was? And, more importantly, what was it, exactly? It’s not as if it was a kiss. If it had been a kiss, maybe you could justify this endless loop of overthinking. But it wasn’t. So why does it still feel like your heart is caught in a vice?

Your hand trails absently over the materials covering the cabin walls as you change again, and your thoughts spiral deeper into the memory, your focus completely stolen by questions you aren’t sure you even want the answers to.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Earth to Y/n?”

“What?” Your head snaps around so fast it’s a wonder you don’t give yourself whiplash. You yank the curtain open, annoyance radiating off you in waves.

Livy stands there, momentarily stunned, her eyes scanning the dress you’ve reluctantly put on.

“Never mind,” she says after a beat, a smile creeping onto her lips. “You look great!”

“It’s too tight,” you bite out, your tone as stiff as the fabric clinging to your body.

Livy rolls her eyes, completely unbothered by your complaint. “It’s supposed to feel tight, sweetheart. That’s how you know it’s doing something for you.”

Before you can argue further, she grabs the curtain and pulls it shut again with a dramatic flourish. “Now hurry up and get changed,” she calls through the fabric. “We still need to figure out accessories, and at this rate, we’ll be here all night!”

#2 CHECKPOINT: AIRPORT

You hated airports. No amount of martinis, gin, or whiskey in the lounge could ever erase the sinking dread of knowing you’d soon be thousands of miles above the ground, trapped in a pressurized metal tube.

“Isn’t it great he booked us business tickets? We’ll have to thank him somehow…” Livy’s voice broke through your sulking, her eyes peeking over the hem of her magazine. “Prada has nice ties. You could pair one with some flowers or something. Classic.”

You shot upright, abandoning the slouched position you’d melted into. “A tie? What does she need a tie for?”

Livy glanced at you over her glasses, unimpressed. “Are you listening to me? Not she, he. Ties are a pretty standard gift for guys.”

Your brows furrowed. “What guy?”

Her exasperation was palpable, her dramatic sigh echoing in your ears. “Rin. Obviously.”

“I’m not getting Rin a gift. He’s not the one getting married.”

“No, he’s not,” Livy said, lowering her magazine just enough to glare at you knowingly. “But he is the one who booked your ticket.”

You blinked, stunned. Your fingers curled into the armrest of your seat as you tried to wrap your head around her words. “How do you know that?”

Livy, completely unbothered by your growing suspicion, calmly removed her glasses and flipped another page. “Relax. I told you, his mom and I text.” She held up her phone as if that explained everything, the screen lit with a string of cheerful messages.

“And?” you prompted, your patience wearing thin.

“And,” she said with an almost mischievous smile, “he upgraded your ticket. Something about it being a thank-you gift. Although, if I had to guess, his mom probably forced him into doing it.”

Your hands were already itching to throttle her, if only to shake loose the full story you were certain she was keeping to herself.

“So,” she spoke up again, “Isn’t it nice, what he did?”

“Sure it is,” you shrug. “Did you change his diapers? Is that why he upgraded your seat, too?” You say, sipping your coffee.

“I have my ways. I don’t need to change anybody’s diapers,” Livy says, raising her eyebrows smugly over the rim of her sunglasses, “or read him bedtime stories to help him fall asleep.”

Your head snaps toward her. “How do you know about that?”

Her smirk grows wider. “You really did read him bedtime stories?”

Rolling your eyes, you counter, “No. They were Ancient Greek myths.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! You know Anri—the nurse? She called them bedtime stories, too. It’s ridiculous—”

“Y/n.” Livy cuts you off, her tone shifting slightly, almost as if she’s trying to ground you in the moment. “You know what I’m talking about—it’s not about Greek myths or bedtime stories. You’ve never put this much effort into anyone. Ever.”

Feigning indignation, you shoot back, “Yes, I have!”

“Last year, you gave me the exact same present you gave me two years ago. That’s the same gift. Back to back.”

Her words make you falter, the faintest trace of heat creeping into your cheeks. “That was… purely coincidence,” you mutter, your bravado waning.

Livy lets out a soft chuckle, but her expression remains sincere. “Look, none of us have ever blamed you for it. You’ve always been practical, and we respect that. But what you’ve done for Rin? That goes beyond friendliness, doesn’t it?”

You hesitate, your brows furrowing as you grapple with the idea. You’ve desperately tried to forbid yourself from dwelling on it for too long—brushing off the teasing and heat as inconsequential, refusing to acknowledge the way his presence has slipped past your defenses.

“No, it just… started once, and then we just kept going, but I never intended… I never…” Your words falter, tangling in your throat as your gaze drifts into empty space.

Livy sighs, realizing she won’t get anything more from you. Still, she knows you well—better than anyone else. You two had pulled through med school together, had snagged an internship at the same place together, and now, you’re residents together. She knows you like the back of her hand. She knows you’re logical to a fault, always weighing every decision with precision. And yet, when it comes to Rin, all logic seems to crumble.

She wonders if it’s because you see love as inherently illogical—a chaotic, uncharted territory where reason holds no sway. That might explain why you’ve let yourself become so tangled in something you can’t quite define.

But Livy knows more than she’s letting on. She itches to tell you about how Rin behaves when you’re not around— the cold, dismissive tone he reserves for the rest of the staff, the outright refusals to accept anyone else’s diagnostics or treatments. How he insists on you, and only you, for the massages and check-ins. How you’ve drawn more words out of him than anyone else in the entire hospital.

If only you knew.

Still, Livy knows you wouldn’t take this kind of conversation well in a calm, controlled setting. Perhaps a little nudge, a change in approach, is what’s needed to help you see what’s right in front of you.

Livy leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with a deliberate air. “Do you know the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea?”

You didn’t even bother looking up from your magazine. “Oh, this should be good. Are you seriously trying to use my own technique on me? I know what you’re doing.”

She rolled her eyes, tossing her sunglasses onto the table. “Well, do you?”

That made you pause. You raised an eyebrow, finally sparing her a glance. “Yes, I do. You can do better.”

“No I don’t think so,” she said, her lips curving into a sly grin. “So, Pygmalion was this sculptor, right? Crazy talented but kind of… emotionally constipated. He didn’t care about love. Thought no one was good enough for him, that most people couldn’t keep up with him. Then, one day, he sculpts Galatea, and she’s everything he’s ever wanted. Perfect in every way. And—”

You snorted, flipping a page. “and he falls in love with Galatea, prays to Aphrodite to help him out. She makes Galatea come alive, and he’s still not happy. I told you, I know the myth.”

“My point is,” Livy said, leaning forward as if she were about to deliver a groundbreaking revelation, “he didn’t realize he was falling in love while he was working on her. He just kept pouring all this time and energy into her, treating her like she was the most important thing in his life. Sound familiar?”

Your fingers froze mid-turn, and the page fluttered back into place. “What, so you’re comparing me to Galatea? You’re saying that I completely changed the rules of his entire world and am the love of his life?”

She threw her hands up dramatically. “No smartass, I’m comparing you to Pygmalion.”

“Livy, he’s a patient,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. “I’m a doctor. End of story.”

Livy’s grin softened into something closer to a small smile. “Sure. If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” She leaned back again, watching you with those too-perceptive eyes. “But think about it. You’ve gone above and beyond for him. You’ve put more effort into him than I’ve seen you give anyone else—ever. Not even me, and I’m your best friend.”

“It’s not like that,” you muttered, dropping the magazine entirely. “I’m just… helping him through a rough time. That’s all.”

Livy tilted her head, studying you. “And maybe it started that way. But Pygmalion didn’t know he was falling for Galatea until she came to life. So ask yourself this—what exactly are you sculpting here?”

#3 CHECKPOINT: WEDDING

“Woah.”

It was the only thing you could manage, and you knew it didn’t come close to doing the place justice. The venue was stunning—like something out of one of those glossy magazine spreads you always thought were too perfect to be real.

Right in the middle of the room was a massive Christmas tree, its branches dusted with snow and decked out in silver and red ornaments. The centerpiece served as a reference point for the tables, arranged in neat circles around it, each one set so perfectly it looked like no one had dared touch it yet.

The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in just enough of the snowy view outside to make you forget you were indoors. Garlands hung from the dark ceiling, their lights twinkling like stars in a way that felt straight out of a fairytale.

And then there was the snow. It was falling—inside, somehow—but frozen midair, like it was posing for a photo. None of it landed on the guests or the tables, just hung there, suspended in a way that made you want to reach out and see if it was real.

It was the kind of place that made you stop for a second, your brain scrambling to catch up with everything your eyes were taking in.

“This is so…”

“Magnificent? I sure hope so. I paid for some of it.”

The voice was unfamiliar, but the sharp tone—balanced with just enough amusement to keep it from feeling cold—made you freeze. You had a pretty good idea of who it might be.

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry,” the woman continued, her words breezy and direct. “I wasn’t alone. My sons helped. With all the money they’re raking in now, I’d be questioning my parenting if they didn’t chip in.”

And then you saw her. The blue eyes, the fierce, unreadable stare, the kind of eyelashes most people would kill for— it all clicked. Rin’s mother.

“Oh my God, Ms. Itoshi, hi, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” you stammered, your words tumbling out as your hands flew to smooth the fabric of your dress.

Before you can even try to respond, Rin appears at your side, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Mom, can you not?” Rin grumbles, clearly unamused.

“Can I not what? Make polite conversation with your friend?” she teases, swiping lightly at his shoulder. Rin straightens instinctively, his usual scowl deepening.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Go accompany her to the bar and introduce her to the family instead of saying something stupid, will you?”

Rin mutters something under his breath, but before you can catch it, he grips your wrist lightly and pulls you toward the bar.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension lingering in the air, you clear your throat and force a light tone. “So… your mom runs a tight ship, huh?”

“Not any tighter than how you ran that hospital room,” Rin shoots back, his sharp gaze flickering toward you.

You laugh dryly, shaking your head. “Please. It could’ve gone a lot worse.”

“Could it?” he challenges, his tone skeptical as you both settle onto the barstools.

You shrug, taking a sip of the drink the bartender places in front of you. “If Livy were here, she’d tell you all about the time we had this kid that had been in a car crash. Total nightmare. Earphones in 24/7, wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t let us do anything. Her mom went along with everything she wanted— so when we had to pull her in for surgery and she refused, guess what? Her mom wouldn’t give consent either. We had to send her home. Now her room, I ran like a military camp. She called me sergeant and everything.”

Rin’s frown deepens, his fingers tapping against the bar. “Did the kid have a death wish? And was the mom having a brain aneurysm or something?”

You suppress a laugh. “Look at you with all those medical terms. Maybe you should’ve pursued med school instead of football.”

His scowl sharpens, and he motions with his glass for you to continue.

“Some people just…” You exhale slowly, your fingers brushing against the condensation on your glass. “It’s hard to explain. I see it every day, and I still don’t fully get it. But my best guess? The mom was afraid of her kid.”

“Afraid of her own child?” Rin says, his voice edged with disbelief. “That’s pathetic.”

“Not that kind of afraid,” you clarify, meeting his gaze. “It’s more… she was desperate for her kid’s love. Saying no—whether it was about a life saving surgery or a bag of candy—felt like a step closer to having her kid resent her forever.”

Rin takes a long sip of his drink before setting the glass down. “Still pathetic.”

You shrug. “Everyone’s different,” you say, as the liquor burns down your throat. You pull a grimace, and hum in discomfort.

“This burns.” You explain, and Rin sighs in subtle amusement, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, until the frown etched on his face earlier resurfaces again. “I get wanting your kid to love you, but letting them die because you’re scared to piss them off? That’s weak.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, leaning slightly against the bar. “It’s easy to judge when you’re not in their shoes. People have their own battles, Rin. Some are just… quieter.”

“Quieter doesn’t mean they’re not bullshit,” he mutters, taking another sip.

“You’d be surprised how fear can change people. That mom probably thought she was doing the right thing, in her own twisted way.” You pause, giving him a sidelong glance. “Kind of like how you think being an uncooperative patient is somehow noble.”

Rin shoots you a sharp look, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “You saying I’m as bad as her?”

“Not quite,” you tease, lifting your glass to your lips. “But you do have a knack for being stubborn when you think you’re right, even when you’re not.”

“I’m always right,” he retorts, leaning back in his chair with a hint of defiance.

“Mm, sure. That’s why I had to chase you down the hall last time you tried to escape physical therapy.”

“That was a tactical retreat,” he counters, deadpan.

You laugh, the sound light against the festive hum of the venue. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Itoshi.”

His gaze softens slightly as he looks at you. “You’ve got some nerve calling me stubborn when you’re the one arguing philosophy over a bar top.”

“I’m just trying to educate you.”

Rin tilts his head, considering you for a moment. “You know, you could’ve just told me I was a good patient and spared me this lecture.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You grin, nudging his arm lightly, as he leans over to you to grab a bottle of god-knows-what— and you stiffen. You stiffen, because when Rin leans close to you, you are transported back to the night of Leah’s death, and the scent of muscade takes over your senses, and realisations come to hit you like a truck all over again— and you don��t think you can handle them.

You think about what it would be like to kiss him, to rest your head on his chest, to—

“Oh, Rin! Is this the doctor you told us about?” A woman to whom you couldn’t be more grateful for interrupting your spiralling train of thought, comes up to you both and slaps a hand on Rin’s shoulder.

The black haired footballer only grunts in return, and you smile at the obvious display of familiarity between the two.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you never told us how pretty she is!” She smiles brightly at you, and settles her elbows on the mahogany bar top, nestling her face between her hands. “As pretty as a picture! Tell you what, you should take Rin out on a date—“

“Tsumugi, enough.”

“Oh,” she clicks her tongue in annoyance and lightly glares at Rin, before turning back to you, hushing her voice theatratically, “You know I have never seen him talk to someone for this long? You are a real sweetheart putting up with him for as long as you have, really-“

“Tsumugi.” Rin can’t stand it. Most of this conversation has been smooth sailing, until his other cousin (god, how come he has this many cousins in the first place?) came in and crashed said sailing like an actual tornado. Worst of all, Rin can’t seem to hide the heat creeping up his neck, nor his embarrassment at Tsumugi’s words.

Sure, he’s talked to you a lot. Sure, you had hugged, and he had, out of the graciousness of his heart let you rest your head on his shoulder for a moment. But, honestly, what was he supposed to do? You were crying, and you were dealing with… stuff.

“Yeah, thanks.” Your awkward smile and tone breaks him out of his reverie, and he almost feels bad for the predicament his cousin forced you into.

You are pretty, though, he thinks. It’s obvious. You’re more than pretty, even. And you’re smart. His mother likes you. His cousin likes you, too. Sure, your friend is a little over the top, and your other friend is kind of a slut, but you’re great. Rin wishes he could find another word, because he knows in the depth of his heart that you’re not just great, but the corners of his mouth only dip and his expression sours when he can’t seem to find one. Better you find someone who actually knows how to compliment someone without coming off as a jackass, he thinks. Better not be me.

“She’s great.”

The voice feels so familiar it bounces off the walls, and makes Rin’s heart heavy. He looks at you briefly to make sure you’re not listening in, and turns the other way when he sees you talking animatedly to Tsumugi, any and all awkward introductions seemingly forgotten.

“Who is?”

Sae only clicks his tongue, and nods at you. “Her. Doctor, wasn’t it?”

Almost immediately, Rin’s brain thinks up as many conversation starters to steer the conversation topic away from you like a dispenser pumping gas. If it won’t be him, it won’t be Sae, he thinks, hands clutching under the bar top. Anyone but Sae.

“She’s not single.” Rin blurts out, face composed.

“Who’s not single?” The black haired football player’s eyes almost bulge out of his eye sockets, and it takes him the strength of a thousand mountains to not spill the contents of his glass all over the place when you suddenly make your appearance, turning around, your knees knocking into Rin’s.

“You, apparently.” Sae says, voice smooth as he downs the contents of his own glass.

You splutter at the eldest’s words, eyes widening, and your hand covering your mouth.

“I— Excuse me?”

His older brother only grins slightly, leaning back against the back of the chair in silent victory. “Ah,” he starts, eyes riveted to the black haired player next to him. “Is that not the case?”

Heat slowly creeps up your neck and you have a hard time getting a sentence, let alone words, out of your throat.

“Have you finally found some other person to follow around like a puppy?” Sae wonders out loud, and the more he talks, the more you can see Rin’s eyes darkening. “I have to say,” The eldest turns to you, “I’ve never seen my little brother with a crush. ‘Suppose I should congratulate you for that.” He sips on his glass again, eyes seemingly faraway.

When you finally regain your senses, they rip out of your trachea like a rose full of thorns. Long, pointy, deadly thorns.

“I don’t— I gotta go. To the bathro— restroom. Sorry,” you quickly shimmy out of your chair in a hurried frenzy, eager to make your way out of this very unfortunately awkward conversation. Maybe Livy was right. Maybe you do need to figure out what exactly you were sculpting here, you reluctantly admit to yourself.

“I’m sorry, have you seen Livy? I mean, Olivia? Olivia Matsson, tall, blond?" You mimic her height with a hand above your head, and hope you’re not coming across as a coke addict with how energetic you’re being. “A little over the top?”

A woman tells you yes, and nods over to a direction near a table somewhere in the back. You don’t see her right away, but you take the hint anyway, and sprint over until you spot a head full of vibrant, blonde hair.

“Liv! Livy!”

Livy turns around, and visibly gasps at your state.

“Wh— How? What happened?”

“I think,” you breathe in, “I think, I know what I’m sculpting.”

Livy points at you, already reaching for a hefty bottle of whiskey. “You,” she declares, shoving a glass into your hand, “need a drink.”

You barely get a sigh out before she fills it to the brim.

“Bottoms up.”

You lift the glass, ready to down the whole thing in one go, but Livy stops you with a sharp gasp.

“No! You animal! This is whiskey, not a cheap shot. Sip it, savor it— God.”

You don’t question her very specific expertise or extensive knowledge on alcohol consumption, just take a breath and a small, slow sip before launching into it.

“Rin lied.” Another sip. “He told Sae I wasn’t single. Like I was taken.” You shake your head. “And maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but then they were both looking at me, and Sae was pointing at me, and you said Rin liked me, so I thought—”

“Okay, okay, slow down.”

“You said, that he—“

“That he liked you,” Livy finishes, and motions for you to keep going. You you turn your palm towards her to show your agreement with a small “Right,” and keep going.

“Well, I was— I did think about it, you know, I did, and you’re right, he is handsome, and we’ve had our moments, and he’s not, I mean it’s not like he’s my patient anymore, so who cares right? I can try something. And I think I want to, so—“

“Oh, honey.” Livy smiles fondly and hands you a napkin when a trickle of alcohol escapes down your chin after a few too many sips. “Take a seat and tell me everything.” She pats the chair beside her, urging you to sit.

You sigh, dropping into the seat. “I don’t know how to approach him. We’ve talked about my feelings, but never his. And I know, I know this probably sounds stupid and obvious to you, but I’m terrified this is all just—just a total misunderstanding. Because, oh my god, I really like him. And if I’ve been reading this wrong the whole time, I think I might actually die.”

Livy hums, swirling the drink in her glass. “I get it. It’s scary, but sometimes the only way forward is to throw yourself to the wolves.”

You snort. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.” You mumble against the rim of your glass, eyes locked on the mural across the room.

She laughs, nudging your knee with hers. “I’m serious! It’s nerve-wracking, sure, but it’s part of the process. And honestly?” She tilts her head, considering her next words. “If you saw the way he looks at you… If you don’t know how to go about this, what makes you think he does?”

You swallow, staring at your drink. “I just— I don’t want to ruin things.”

Livy sighs, leaning her elbow on the table. “You know, love isn’t about having all the answers beforehand. It’s not this neatly wrapped thing where you always know what the other person is thinking. It’s messy. And it’s— it’s, god it’s a great deal of awkward. And it’s a lot to stand in front of someone and hoping they don’t run in the other direction.” She smiles softly. “But when it’s real? You meet in the middle. You figure it out together. And, lovely, I think he’s already halfway there.”

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head. “And if he’s not?”

“Then you’ll survive,” she says simply. “Heartbreak isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. You know what is? Never trying. Spending forever wondering what could’ve been.” She reaches over and squeezes your hand. “You deserve to know where you stand. And if that means throwing yourself to the wolves, then at least you’ll do it knowing you were brave enough to want something real.”

A deep breath expands in your chest, and for the first time tonight, the panic quiets just a little.

“You make it sound so easy,” you murmur.

Livy grins. “It’s not. But love isn’t about easy. It’s about worth it.”

“You’re too good at this.” You frown.

“I know. I should consider a career change. You’re the only thing holding me back, hun.”

“Cute.” You grin, “I’m like your white knight in shining armor.”

“Ugh, no. You’re the reason I’m going insane.” Her face twists, and you laugh.

———————————————————-

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass, you know that?”

For the first time, Rin refuses to let Sae walk away unscathed. Nearly ten years of pure resentment shoved into the deepest, darkest corner of his heart, boils over, and tonight, he’s finally gonna let his brother take the brunt of it.

Sae barely spares him a glance, idly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Hm?”

“You fucking—” Rin exhales sharply, fists clenched. “You arrogant, prideful, son of a bitch.” His voice trembles with barely contained fury. “When you came back from Spain, you ruined everything. Everything. I thought we were gonna do this together. I thought—”

“I told you,” Sae interrupts, voice maddeningly even. “You won’t get anywhere living in my shadow. I was right.”

“I don’t give a shit what you think was right!” Rin snaps. “When I met this girl, I thought I was done with all this brooding, dark bullshit. I thought I could finally get that goddamn day where you destroyed my entire world out of my head.”

His breathing is uneven, his pulse hammering in his ears. He’s seconds away from knocking that smug look right off his brother’s face.

“And so all that resentment, all those years of training and training and pushing myself past my limit just to surpass you—I was done. Fuck!” His fist slams against the bartop, rattling glasses. A few guests gasp. His cousin frowns. Their mother shoots them a sharp glare.

Sae doesn’t flinch. “Careful.” He takes a slow sip.

Rin’s vision blurs with rage. “You— you ruined my perception of football. You ruined my perception of relationships. I can’t even look Mom in the eyes anymore because they remind me of you.”

That gets a reaction. A barely perceptible shift, a flicker in Sae’s gaze.

Rin exhales shakily, his shoulders tight with exhaustion. Then, he looks Sae dead in the eyes.

“I hate you. So much.” His voice drops to something dangerously quiet. “And before I get up to go and salvage what’s left of what you broke, again, I'm gonna look you in the eyes, brother to brother, and say,” He leans in, the words sharp enough to cut. “I fucking hate you.”

———————————————————-

The next time you see Rin, he’s hunched over the balcony, his hands gripping the stone so tightly you half expect it to crack under the pressure.

“Heard you made quite the scene back there,” you say cautiously. “Don’t tell me you’re back to your nurse chasing days.”

He doesn’t respond, the only answer you get is the sharp gust of wind and the heavy silence stretching between you.

Don’t shut me out again, you think, watching the way his shoulders stay rigid, his expression unreadable. You need him to talk— need to gather all your strength for what comes next. His silence won’t do.

“I’m not—” he exhales, dragging a hand down his face before forcing himself to continue. “I’m just pissed. That’s all.”

He pauses, then mutters the name like it’s an open wound.

“Sae.”

You hesitate for a second, choosing your words carefully. “What did he do this time?”

Rin exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing new.” But his tone betrays him, bitter and exhausted. “Just the usual bullshit.”

You don’t press him, not yet. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Rin, it’s that pushing too hard only makes him retreat further. So you wait, let the silence stretch just long enough for him to decide whether he wants to fill it.

Eventually, he does. “Remember Pollux and Caster?”

“Castor,” you instinctively correct, “Yeah, I remember.”

“They weren’t even full brothers,” Rin mutters, frustration threading through his voice. “And still, they sacrificed for each other, didn’t they? Pollux gave up his immortality. Castor—he—” Rin exhales sharply, fingers curling against the railing. “Sae didn’t have to sacrifice anything. What he did was so—so ridiculously unnecessary, and yet…”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. The feud between the two brothers has never been new, and yet, the details remain firmly sealed between the two brothers. You study him for a moment, the way his shoulders rise and fall with barely restrained emotion. You could tell him that he is enough, that his relationship with Sae— or lack thereof— doesn’t define him. But you know Rin. That’s not what he wants to hear right now.

“I’m sure you know this, Rin, but the Dioscuri are not something to compare real life to. They represent an ideal, not reality.”

Rin scoffs, shaking his head. “An ideal.” His voice is sharp, like he doesn’t believe a word of it. Like he wants to argue but can’t quite find the energy.

You tilt your head, studying him. “The Dioscuri were a paradox from the start— one mortal, one divine. They were never meant to exist in harmony, not really. But instead of accepting that, they kept trying to hold on, to fit together like they were made for it.” You exhale, glancing up at the sky. “And in the end, the only way they could be together was through tragedy. One had to lose everything for the other.”

Rin is quiet. His grip on the railing loosens, but his knuckles are still pale. You wonder if he’s actually listening, or if he’s just letting your words wash over him like waves against the rocks— present, but not really sinking in.

“Sae’s not Pollux, and you’re not Castor,” you continue, softer this time. “You’re not bound by fate, or the gods, or some tragic, poetic bullshit about what brothers should be. You don’t have to be anything for him, Rin. And he doesn’t have to be anything for you.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to snap at you. Instead, he just mutters, “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Sure.” You shrug. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

The wind picks up again, sweeping through the balcony, tousling Rin’s hair. He looks out over the city, his expression unreadable. Maybe he’s still angry. Maybe he’s thinking. Maybe he’s just tired.

You don’t expect him to say anything more. You’ve known him long enough to understand that silence is just as much a language as words. But then, after a long pause, he exhales, shaking his head.

“I just don’t get it,” he murmurs. “Why did he have to do it? Why does he always have to be—” He stops himself, like the words are caught in his throat.

You don’t ask what it is. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you. If not, well… some things are meant to stay between the Itoshi brothers.

Instead, you rest your arms against the railing, mirroring his posture. “Maybe it’s not about understanding him,” you say. “Maybe it’s about deciding whether it’s worth it to keep trying.”

Rin doesn’t answer right away. But this time, the silence feels different. Less like a wall, more like a door that hasn’t quite opened yet.

“You know, I—”

The words barely escape your lips before they’re swallowed whole, cut off by something firm and sudden pressing against them. It takes you a moment— one, two, three erratic heartbeats— to even register what’s happening. The warmth, the way his breath mixes with yours, the way his lips move against yours with a hesitant urgency, like he’s holding back but doesn’t want to.

Rin is kissing you.

The realization crashes into you just as quickly as the kiss itself, but your body doesn’t catch up. Your brain stalls, your muscles freeze, and before you can even think about responding, before you can even breathe, Rin is already pulling away.

“Figures,” he mutters, his voice low and tight, like he’s trying to sound unaffected. “First time I actually show a girl how I feel, I get rejected.”

Your heart lurches, a sudden, frantic thing hammering against your ribs. The air between you feels charged, humming with something unspoken, something fragile.

You can still feel the ghost of his lips against yours, like an imprint burned into your skin, and it’s almost overwhelming how fast everything unraveled. You had thought about this, hell, you’d imagined it, even hoped for it, but now that it’s happened, it feels like the entire world has tilted off its axis.

You should say something. You need to say something.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out, your thoughts tangled in a mess of shock and disbelief. Rin shifts beside you, jaw tightening, hands flexing at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to clench them into fists.

“…Forget it,” he mutters after a beat, turning away slightly. His voice is quieter this time, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s trying to bury whatever flicker of hope had been there just moments ago. “Should’ve known better.”

That snaps you out of your daze. “Wait—”

You reach for him instinctively, fingers brushing against his wrist. He stiffens but doesn’t pull away. Your pulse is a wild, erratic thing, drumming against your ribs. Your fingers weave into his hair, sliding through the soft strands at the nape of his neck, and you feel him stiffen beneath your touch. For a split second, he’s completely still, as if the air has been knocked from his lungs. Then, against all logic, against all sane judgment, you close the space between you and press your lips to his.

It’s not careful. It’s not hesitant. It’s an answer, a contradiction, an undoing of every doubt Rin had just had mere moments ago.

His hands find your waist, gripping like he needs to anchor himself, like he doesn’t quite believe this is real. The fingers at the back of his neck curl slightly, and when you tug just barely, he lets out the quietest sound, almost a sigh, almost a groan.

And then he’s kissing you back.

The world narrows down to the heat between you, the way he angles his head to deepen the kiss, his nose brushing against yours, and the heat between you only intensifies.

One of his hands slips up your back, pressing against your spine, pulling you closer— like the mere act of kissing you isn’t enough, like he needs more, needs you. His other hand stays firm at your waist, fingers flexing against the fabric of your clothes, grounding himself in the moment.

Your heartbeat thrums wildly, matching his, a silent rhythm only the two of you can hear.

When you finally part, your lips are tingling, your breath unsteady. Rin doesn’t move far— his forehead rests against yours, and his warm breath fans over your lips, like he’s not ready to let go just yet. His fingers linger at your waist, hesitant now, as if waiting for you to pull away, to take it all back.

You don’t say anything. You just smile, brightly and effortlessly, bathed in moonlight that kisses your skin, making you look almost unreal. Breathtaking. And for the first time, Rin swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Yes, he’s sure. He’d rather die than ever let you go.

EPILOGUE

The roar of aircraft engines filled the air, blending with the faint hum of chatter in the lobby. Behind the desk, the flight attendant lets out a sigh, her exhaustion evident. Her shift had been a parade of entitled demands: three Economy Plus passengers insisting on lounge access, half a dozen unbearable business types, and two spoiled rich kids throwing around lines like, “Mom said…” or “Do you know who my father is?” She didn’t, nor did she care. Her patience, much like the coffee machine nearby, was running on fumes.

Leaning on her elbow, she swiped her hand across her forehead, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Just as she began to relax, a tiny hand appeared on the desk, clutching a shiny card.

Peering over, the attendant saw a little girl, who couldn’t be over five, balancing on her toes to peer above the tall white counter. Her small fingers gripped the edge of the desk for support, her toothy grin revealing a few gaps.

“It’s from my mommy,” the girl announced, her lisp soft but clear.

The flight attendant picked up the card, the gold lettering catching the light. She looked down at the child, leaning closer to meet her gaze.

“Your mommy gave you this?”

The little girl nodded with the determination of someone delivering very serious business. “I want a—”

Her request was cut short as a tall figure swooped in, lifting her off the ground. The man, presumably her father, cradled her in one arm while addressing the attendant.

“Mommy didn’t give her anything,” he said, giving his daughter a pointed look, a mix of stern exasperation in his tone. “She snagged it from my wife while we were going through security. She thinks it’s a credit card—”

“Magic card, Daddy!” the girl corrected, wagging her little index finger as if to scold him. “It’s called a magic card!”

The father chuckled softly, his expression softening despite the situation. “Right, magic card. My bad, baby. Sorry.”

A woman entered the scene, walking briskly toward the desk. She gently plucked the card from her husband’s hand and handed it back to the flight attendant.

“Sorry for the trouble,” the woman said, her shy smile matched with an air of calm as she rummaged through her bag.

The flight attendant waved her off with a practiced, polite smile. “No harm done, really,” she said, sliding the card back across the counter after checking its validity.

“Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi, this way please,” the attendant declared, gesturing toward the nearby doors. “The car taking you to your plane will be waiting downstairs in just a moment. Welcome to the HON lounge.”

As the little family moved toward the designated lounge, the little girl clung to her father’s neck, her face nestled against his shoulder. “I told you it was a magic card, Daddy,” she mumbled, her tone brimming with childlike triumph.

Her father shook his head with a grin. “I know. Almost forgot. Thank you for telling me sweet girl.”

“You’re welcome,” the daughter babbled, pride shining through her words.

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luvvixu · 10 months ago

Text

mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

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#gojo satoru #anime #gojo satoru x reader #fanfic #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #luvvixu #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru angst #satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst #angst #arrange marriage

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reikissu · 11 months ago

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❥･• kaedehara kazuha and wanderer dating hcs.

a/n: might be ooc, i’ll try my best to edit it and make it more accurate to their character huhu

ꔛ genre: fluff, romance

ꔛ reader: gender neutral

ꔛ warnings: corny stuff, cursing

my, you're a lucky one to be the paramour of kaedehara kazuha.. because life is about to change.

he's swift as the wind, with just his way of words and voice.. he can make you turn flustered in a matter of minutes.

with just a call, you feel as if you're on cloud 9.

"dearest, may you come here?" "huh? uh sure...! (⌯❛௦❛⌯)" then he asks why your cheeks are red HAHA

his petnames for you are like a sweet flavor to his tongue, calling you out by using his petnames makes him feel warm.

he calls you dearest, dear and love. they vary in different days when he chooses one.

his love language is definitely gifts and physical touch, he loves writing poems and giving it to you, since you are his inspiration of the poems he gives to you.

and they turn out to be so romantic that you start giggling while reading it, after all.. it is all about you and he wrote it full-heartedly.

everytime it’s autumn, he would bring you to a cliff where the trees are in view, sitting next to you as you both behold the sight of the maple leaves flowing along with the wind.

he would take one leaf and put it behind your ear as an accessory, "you look beautiful, my love." he says as he gives a soft smile. 🤭

as i also mentioned, his other love language is physical touch. he likes to feel your soft skin against his, he'll kiss you, hug you, hold your hand.. anything that’s comfortable with you.

on certain occasions he would hold your hand, whenever you both are alone of course.. wouldn’t want anyone prying on your moments with kazuha, no?

he would share his experiences when he traveled with beidou or by himself, it would always have interesting events happening in them. so it’s very entertaining to listen to.

HE DEF KNOWS HOW TO SEW, because i hc that when tomo had rips on his clothes, kazuha would fix them. so kazuha would gift you handmade clothes, handkerchiefs, scarfs… you name it, and it will always be in your favorite color. “Ah, shit! My sleeve ripped!” “Mm? Oh, give me the top you’re currently wearing tomorrow, i will fix it.” “You know how to sew?” “Yes, my dear.” “Aw, thank you..” “You’re welcome :)”

sometimes when you both are in the mood to hangout on the ship, Captain Beidou always teases you both “Hey, hey.. no one told me the lovebirds would board the ship!” “Captain beidou…” you and the other crew mates just laugh it off.

you and Beidou would talk about Kazuha and tell stories, and she had one piece of advice for you. “Just come to me if Kazuha hurts you or did something wrong, i’ll teach that kid a lesson.” “Is that a threat, captain?” you laugh, kazuha mutters under his breath, leaning on the wall of the ship "Why would i ever do that to them.."

all jokes aside, having kazuha in your life is a blessing from the gods that you can never thank them enough for.

at first, wanderer wasn’t the sweetest boyfriend. But after learning about relationships and love.. he started showing how much he loves you.

after he regained his memories, he was back to his old, sassy and arrogant self. But that didn’t stop him from being soft around you.

in public, he’s the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet istg, but when alone with you, he just suddenly melts into your touch.

he’d let you play with his hair, cuddle with him or more. you’re one of the people he trusts and loves, so he doesn’t mind it. he likes being pampered and pampering you.

he doesn’t have a petname for you, he just calls you by your name. but if he’s feeling nice enough, he’ll call you babe.

“Babe, can you-“ “Huh? What did you call me? 🤩” “..Babe. Are you deaf?” “OH MY GOSH 🥹” then he’d just stare at you like “what’s so shocking about that?” HAHAHAHAHA

his love language would mainly be physical touch, but in my opinion his love languages would be all, depending on his mood.

he would make fun of you sometimes, if you trip he’d definitely laugh his ass off but will help you stand up, if you accidentally say something that is SO stupid he’ll literally never shut up about it.

he would try food or things that you like, so he’d understand your preferences. But if you like sweets, he’d have a hard time with it. he’d spend an hour just trying to swallow it, he hates it.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like dango?” “….No. I like dango.” (He’s about to puke.)

wanderer wasn’t very good at showing his love through physical touch, but he would give you soft yet quick kisses, it’s like cotton grazing on your lips. after a while, he would be able to kiss you more confidently without any hesitation in private.

he is slightly showy in public, just subtle hand and waist holding as you two walk through sumeru, eat somewhere, or do any activities outside. like stargazing, watching a play etc.

whenever he would see you eyeing something you want, he would click his tongue and say “Tsk, buy it yourself.” then later night he’s holding a bag with the item/food you wanted earlier… “Hm? Isn’t that the food/thing i wanted?” “…Yeah.” “I thought you told me to buy it myself?” “Shut up, i changed my mind.” (he will get absolutely pissed off and flustered if you tease him about it 😭)

he would help you in any way he can, cooking, laundry, blahblahblah. just anything, so he could take the weight off your shoulders. you’re a hardworking person in his eyes, and he admires that, and he’s willing to be one with you.

he would surprisingly like cuddling, but not the one with those type of cuddling where it turns into some steamy stuff. i have a gut feeling he would love chill and tender moments with you, like talking about past experiences and laughing together, watching a movie together, etc. he loves seeing you smile and laugh, it makes him feel warm inside.

would kill for you, if anyone tries to harm you, they’ll be buried 6 feet under for that. even though he acts hard to get, he loves and cares for you a lot. he does not give a single shit if you’re bigger and taller than him, he knows he’s capable of protecting you.

overall, his life with you is the happiest one he has ever had. wanderer loves you with all his heart.

#kazuha kaedehara #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff #kaedahara kazuha #kaedahara kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedahara x reader #kaedehara kazuha fluff #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #kazuha x reader #kazuha fluff #scaramouche scenarios #wanderer scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #kazuha scenarios #kazuha kaedehara scenarios #kaedehara kazuha scenarios

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sulumuns-dootah · 7 months ago

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If WHB had PvP: King interactions

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Started playing new gacha game with PvP arena and got me thinking how the kings would react to having to fight other kings or their own selves ^^

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan vs. Satan

"Wait, that's me?! Do I also have clones now like that fly bastard?"

"Hahaha I hope he enjoyed that as much as I did!"

"I'm not that short, c'mon!"

"Do you think that guy also has his own Sitri or do we both share him?

Satan vs. Mammon

"Who are you calling short?"

"This is what you get for taking what's mine!"

"Do you notice me now?"

"Heh, you won't see this one coming"

Satan vs. Beelzebub

"No matter how many clones he has, I'll beat him anyway"

"You stay away from my knees! Don't want a repeat of last time."

"This was the last time your clones took turns with MC!"

"After we're done here, wanna grab drinks?"

Satan vs. Leviathan

"Here's a little taste of what will happen the next time you'll try to kill MC!"

"About time someone burst that bubble of yours!"

"Time to wake up and smell the roses!"

"Who even is this guy, wanting to go back to school?"

Satan vs. Belphegor

"Man, imagine being able to sleep. Couldn't be me!"

"Oh hey, did anyone else see that corpse reanimate itself?"

"For someone who sleeps all the time, he sure does look tired."

"That guy Beleth, I could use someone like him too."

Satan vs. Lucifer

"Heh, look who just became a harmacist!"

"I wonder... if he injured me, would he also heal me afterwards?"

"When I first met him, he seemed weaker... Still, he's no match for me!"

"I heard a squeak earlier... Did I accidentally step on that tiny piss ballon?

Mammon vs. Satan

"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't notice you down there."

"I don't mean to be rude. It seems he's very insecure about many things."

"He's like an adorable kitten when he wants to play punch."

"I like small things"

Mammon vs. Mammon

"Ah, what a strange state of affairs. I must've somehow gotten multiplied."

"If there's two of me, does that mean we must share?"

"Do I own him or does he own me?"

"So this is what it feels like to be a Beelzebub."

Mammon vs. Beelzebub

"My subjects tell me he's more in Tartaros than in his own country"

"His food is palatable with enough gold on it."

"If I recall correctly, he tried to eat one of the pillars in my castle."

"I won't hold back the next time he whisks my master away."

Mammon vs. Leviathan

"That coffin seems valuable, I shall look into it more"

"I must admit, Hades is a beautiful country."

"Leviathan could use a visit to one of many Tartaros' spas."

"He's so pale. He should go out more."

Mammon vs. Belphegor

"I do respect a country which hasn't descended into chaos with the king mostly absent."

"I shall send him some new bedsheets. Who knows when was the last time he's had them changed."

"Ahahah, I do admit you do have a very unique power!"

"Such lifestyle does look appealing, alas my country would greatly miss my presence."

Mammon vs. Lucifer

"I respect you deeply. This is nothing personal."

"If you require financial aid, do not hesitate to ask."

"I hope Buer is satisfactory in his position as a healer"

"Do you miss your father as much as I sometimes do?"

Beelzebub vs. Satan

"Huhu, you're cute trying to fight me!"

"Oh, we were fighting?"

"I'm bored, let's jump someone together!"

"Hm, I kinda want a snack now."

Beelzebub vs. Mammon

"I could use a bigger meal."

"I just heard one of the Tartaros' beaches calling me. I have to go."

"Maybe we could go visit my favorite Abyssos casinos afterwards!"

"Hm, I wonder how the pillars in his castle taste like."

Beelzebub vs. Beelzebub

"Oh hello, me!"

"I see you're handling everything here, so I'll just get going."

"If you go to that café in Gehenna, I can go to that stall with fish sweets in Hades..."

"Are you Bael or are you really me?"

Beelzebub vs. Leviathan

"Levi! Nice to see you again!"

"I wonder if he liked the last souvenir I bought him..."

"C'mon, next time I'm in Hades I'm treating you to a fish steak!"

"Sometimes I think he'd love to give me a noose around neck too."

Beelzebub vs. Belphegor

"You won't mind if I borrow Beleth for a few weeks, right?"

"Ah, how is Andrealphus doing?"

"I wish I wasn't so busy and could just lay in bed all day!"

"If only Bael was here to see how well can a country flourish without the king being around all the time."

Beelzebub vs. Lucifer

"Next time invite your angel brothers along."

"I don't need anymore shots for now."

"Another Seraphim down."

"Paradise Lost is pretty, but the smell is horrible."

Leviathan vs. Satan

"Ah, how pitiful you'd even try to mesure up to me."

"Size matters, don't you know?"

"I expected nothing less from you."

"Someday you might grow out of it."

Leviathan vs. Mammon

"A shame, truly. You seemed as a worthy ally."

"Money isn't really what matters. It's beauty."

"That palace of his is very tacky, don't you think?"

"I've won, of course."

Leviathan vs. Beelzebub

"Ugh, just please stop talking."

"You're lucky you're not one of my subjects."

"I shall end you quickly to end my suffering."

"I wish I could be back at my castle."

Leviathan vs. Leviathan

"Finally, I get to defeat myself and come as the winner!"

"Who dares to multiply me and make me compete with myself?!"

"Hm... That color doesn't seem to suit my complexion."

"I'm jealous of other people for being able to see me from such point of view."

Leviathan vs. Belphegor

"Oh, to be able to stay at home all day without being interrupted."

"My coffin is way more comfortable than that cheap bed."

"Hades is beautiful and blooming, unlike Niflheim."

"Where is this Beleth I keep hearing about?"

Leviathan vs. Lucifer

"I shall keep an eye on you at all times."

"All angels are deemed untrustworthy in my eyes."

"I will never forgive your kind for what you've done to us."

"Perhaps, you'd also like to forget your past?"

Belphegor vs. Satan

"Man, your existence's gotta be terrible..."

"Jeez, why are you so loud?"

"Anger drains so much energy..."

"Couldn't be me..."

Belphegor vs. Mammon

"Nice pillows..."

"All that gold looks uncomfortable.."

"Wonder how nice the hotels are in Tartaros..."

"Can ya get me some figures at the Hellcon?"

Belphegor vs. Beelzebub

"Ya exhaust me..."

"Tell Bael I ain't givin' Beleth to anyone.."

"Ya gotta be tired from all that runnin' 'round..."

"Ugh, I'm exhausted..."

Belphegor vs. Leviathan

"Six... I'll have ya obliterated!"

"Ya remind me of that one anime character that dies in the end..."

"Imagine putting all that work in just to look like that..."

"I wonder when they'll announce another season..."

Belphegor vs. Belphegor

"Oh?"

"Well, what in tarnation?"

"Makes me double tired..."

"Ope, am I still dreamin'?"

Belphegor vs. Lucifer

"Hospital beds ain't comfy..."

"This Hell might be big enough for the two of us..."

"Agares might need ya soon, if he don't shape up..."

"That Andrealphus, he seems hurt, check up on him, will ya?"

Lucifer vs. Satan

"Humans believe you've taken on all my wrath towards my father. Thank you for relieving me of such impure emotions."

"You. I'd expected you taller."

"I deeply apologise for all the grief my brothers have caused you."

"Morax asked me to remind you to wear your mouth guard."

Lucifer vs. Mammon

"Ah, father must've been very generous while creating you."

"I can sense a deep sadness within you..."

"If your horn stump becomes painful, my doctors can help you."

"There were many demons who required back pain treatment after carrying his riches."

Lucifer vs. Beelzebub

"I was told my brother fears you. If that is what will keep him in line, I shall support such occurence."

"That Phenomenon, what exactly is it?"

"I believe you're due in for another health check up."

"They call him wandering king and yet I have yet to see him vacation in Paradise Lost."

Lucifer vs. Leviathan

"My lord, you truly are the epitome of vanity."

"Could you please keep your servant in check, so we do not have to use spells to ensure our morgue doesn't get broken into?"

"The amount of Hades demons addmited to the hospital because of thorn injuries is great. I wonder why?"

"I am deeply sorry for all the horrible things you've been through. I should've intervened."

Lucifer vs. Belphegor

"I feel insulted to be now considered your fellow."

"I believe we do have a cure for narcolepsy, If you'd be interested."

"Beleth, that name sounds familiar..."

"That halo doesn't seem like it was your to begin with."

Lucifer vs. Lucifer

"Has... father created another copy of me?"

"Am I so easily replaceable?"

"So this is how all the other demons see me... I now understand."

"If there's two of me, I shall work twice as hard now..."

#what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb beelzebub #whb satan #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb belphegor #whb lucifer

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locomoqo · 5 months ago

Note

hello!! i love your writing <3 may i request a red hair era james lee x reader nsfw? perhaps a highschool rival romance? the idea’s been eating at my brain nonstop and askjdghdfak it’s so good and i think you’d do it justice

fine line

— james lee x reader

details: NSFW under the cut, fem bodied reader, fingering, teasing, edging, public (?) sex, james is a teasing asshole

A/N: i hope i got it right huhu, enjoyyy!! <33

In the dimly lit corners of the school library, you and James sat next to each other, pretending to study. The air between you two was tense, though not for the reasons anyone might assume. To the casual observer, it seemed like another academic showdown—two rivals buried in textbooks, locked in the usual battle of who could outsmart the other. But beneath the surface, something much more dangerous was at play.

What had started as a harmless competition had evolved into late-night study sessions, lingering glances, and stolen touches. You’d both been walking a fine line for weeks now. It began with innocent bets on who would be distracted first, spiraling into a silent game of seeing who could push the other further without breaking. Each challenge, each daring touch, made it harder to remember where the line had once been.

James sat next to you, his eyes scanning his textbook while you fidgeted with your pen. But under the table, his hand rested not-so-innocently on your knee. The game had begun again.

You shot him a side glance, raising an eyebrow. He met your gaze with a smirk, as if daring you to react. His fingers, light and casual at first, slowly began to move upward. It was subtle, but it was enough to make you aware of every inch between his hand and the growing heat between your thighs.

“Focus,” he whispered, his voice low but teasing, never glancing up from his book. “You’re here to study, remember?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure. “I am focused,” you replied, though your voice was weaker than you’d hoped, betraying the flutter in your stomach. “Besides, isn’t it supposed to be ‘we’?” you add. His fingers inched higher, resting just above your knee now, and your breath caught in your throat. You cast a quick glance around the library, relieved that no one seemed to notice the tension between you and James.

“Schematic differences,” he murmured, his hand creeping farther up your thigh. His touch was feather-light, teasing, but it was impossible to ignore the growing tension in your body. You shifted in your seat, fighting the rush of heat spreading through you.

You weren’t going to lose—not to him, not like this. You straightened your back, pretending to focus on the textbook in front of you, though the words blurred together. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” you muttered, trying to sound more composed than you felt.

James chuckled softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You talk a big game, but we both know you’re not going to stop me.”

His hand slid farther up your thigh, dangerously close to the point that made your breath hitch. You squeezed your legs together, but not enough to stop him.

Your heart raced, the challenge clear between you. How far could you let this go? How long could you pretend to be indifferent before you broke? Your fingers gripped the edge of the table, nails digging into the wood as James’ fingers ventured higher, just inches from the point of no return.

“You’re awfully confident,” you breathed, your voice barely audible. “But you forget, I’m stubborn.”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower, a darker edge creeping into his tone, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then prove it.”

His fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, so close that it made your entire body tense. You wanted to push him away, to stop the game before you lost control—but you didn’t. You liked this—the rush, the thrill of being so close to breaking the unspoken rules between you two, and the challenge of seeing who would crack first.

His hand stilled, fingers hovering just beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing teasingly against your clothed core. He finally looked up from his book, meeting your gaze with those piercing eyes that always made your heart skip. His expression dared you to stop him.

You should stop him. Instead, your hand drifted under the table, fingers grazing his wrist—not to push him away, but to hold him there. A smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned forward slightly.

“You’re terrible at this game,” you whispered, your voice laced with challenge.

James grinned, leaning forward until your faces were inches apart. His fingers pressed harder against your core. “Am I?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. His hand remained, his fingers hovering just where you wanted them, the heat between you two intensifying. “I think I’m winning,” he added softly, his gaze flickering to your lips. “You’re practically dripping.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers moved, rubbing the tips of his fingers against you through your panties. You bit down on your lip to stifle the gasp that nearly escaped, trying to focus on the book in front of you. “You’re getting cocky,” you muttered, eyes fluttering shut for a second as his touch sent shivers down your spine.

“Maybe,” he hummed, his tone smug, “but I don’t think you’ll be able to get one over on me this time.” His fingers pressed against you harder, his thumb pushing your panties to the side. You clenched your jaw, legs instinctively squeezing together, but James spread his hand out to prevent you from closing your legs entirely. “Focus now,” he teased, sliding his fingers between your folds.

“I wasn’t distracted,” you breathed out, brows furrowing as the heat built inside you. The words on the page became nothing more than a blur, your hand shakily writing nonsense across your notes. “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he whispered, slipping a finger inside you. Your breath caught, and your hand tightened around his sleeve, your body betraying you as you tried to keep quiet.

“Want me to stop?” His breath brushed against your ear, his voice sending a jolt through you. You should nod, should tell him to stop, but instead, you shook your head. His grin widened as he slipped in another finger, curling them inside you. You almost jolted in place, only barely managing to offer an apologetic smile to the people who glanced your way.

James’ grin didn’t waver as he continued, keeping a steady rhythm between your legs. The slick squelching sound of his fingers moving inside you was embarrassing, but you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, your breath shaky with each exhale.

When your walls tightened around his fingers, a sign that you were teetering on the edge of release, James suddenly pulled his hand away, leaving you empty and frustrated. You shot him a glare, but he just shrugged and licked his fingers clean with a wicked grin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, leaning back. “We’re supposed to be studying, aren’t we?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, now it’s we? Fine. I’ll just have to beat you at this game next time.”

#james lee x reader #dg x reader #diego kang #diego kang x reader #lookism james lee #lookism dg #lookism #lookism x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #smut #lookism smut

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daisyvisions · 7 months ago

Text

Unspoken Words (Pt. 3)

➺ Pairing: best friend!Sangyeon x afab!reader x enemy!Hyunjae

➺ Summary: If someone were to tell you that you'd be in a fake relationship with the person you despise the most just to make your best friend jealous, you would've laughed in their face. But here you are... caught up in this exact situation.

➺ Word Count: 7.4K

➺ Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI) very angsty but with a happy ending, jealousy, confessions, some arguments, mentions of being drunk, heated makeouts, groping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f! receiving), slight masturbation, marking, neck biting, slight dry humping, pet names (sweetheart) lots and lots of sexual tension y'all (pls let me know if I missed anything!)

➺ A/N: Okay hear me out... it wasn't supposed to take this long for me to write this I swear 😭 but life got in the way huhu but anyways WOW 7.4K words? this is the longest fic I've ever written! This is the last part of this series and while I'm sad it has to come to an end, I'm just very proud of this series as a whole! Proofread once, I hope you enjoy this last part!

➺ Part 1 | Part 2

➺ Network and tags: @deoboyznet @winterchimez @snowflakewhispers @aimeecarreros and the anon that reminded me to write for it bless you I hope you see this!

As your body sways to the rhythm of the music blasting through the speakers, you can't help but become immersed in the kaleidoscope of colors moving around you. You finally feel relaxed enough after a couple of drinks and slowly let everything around you move through you like an ocean wave.

It's been a while since you've been this loose, especially with all the college requirements piling on you like bricks. You needed this, especially since it was your birthday. You deserved to have a break and not think of any responsibilities for a moment and have fun with the person you adore the most… your best friend. Speaking of best friend, where the hell is he right now?

Your mind pulls you away from your reverie as your eyes frantically search for the man who was with you all night. The man who had your whole birthday planned out and dragged you to this place. And just like a moth to a flame, you spot him easily across the room sitting by the bar as he watches you with his warm eyes, the growing smile on his face as soon as his eyes finally meet yours.

Without hesitation, you make your way towards him, weaving through the sea of bodies. You stop right in front of where he sits, your body wedged between his legs as you place your hands on his shoulders for stability. His eyes grow wide as you slowly lean closer to him, wondering what you might do next.

"C'mon Sangyeon, dance with me!" Your mouth is dangerously close to his ear as you try your best to speak above the reverberating music around you.

"I think I'll pass. I'm good right here," he responds as his hand holds your waist to stop you from swaying.

"You can't say no, it's my birthday, remember?" you remind him, your tone playful yet insistent.

Sangyeon hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the crowded dance floor. You can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. He lets out a heavy sigh, remembering that he was the one who set that rule for the evening to begin with. It was the condition he had suggested in order for you to say yes to going out tonight.

"Okay… let's dance," he sighs, quickly chugging down the rest of his drink before allowing you to lead him onto the dance floor.

As soon as you step foot on the dance floor, Sangyeon grabs your wrist and makes you twirl for him. You laugh at the silly gesture but continue to dance with him and let the music move through both of you.

He laughs at how loose-limbed your movements have become but still tries to match your energy nonetheless despite not being much of a dancer. Sangyeon can't help but smile as butterflies soar throughout his body.

He can't believe how lucky he is to have you in his life, wishing for moments like this to never end.

Later on in the night as you both walk back to your apartment, Sangyeon wraps his arm around you, trying to keep your balance as you yap about anything and everything. For some, this would be considered bothersome, having to be the caretaker of their tipsy friend. But to Sangyeon, it doesn't matter as long as it was you.

Aside from getting you home safe, all he can focus on is the beautiful sound of your voice and the way you hold onto him closely. The smell of your perfume was far more intoxicating than the drinks you downed tonight.

When you both finally make it to your front door, you suddenly spin around to hug Sangyeon tightly. "This was the best birthday ever, thank you so much Sangyeon," you mumble against his shoulder.

"Anything for my girl," he smiles, returning the same hug you're giving him.

His cheek presses against your head, taking all the strength he could muster to not kiss your temple. You both hug each other for a little while longer, not wanting this moment to end. As soon as you reluctantly pull away from one another, Sangyeon chuckles at the tousled appearance of your hair.

"Here, let me just—" Sangyeon's hand reaches for the loose strand of hair and gently tucks it behind your ear. You impulsively press your cheek onto his palm, letting the heat of his skin cradle you as you sigh dreamily.

You look up at him with these sultry eyes, and Sangyeon can't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. This kind of thing has never happened between the two of you. He tries his best to ignore the sudden warmth blooming at the back of his neck but fails as soon as his eyes gravitate towards your lips almost touching his palm.

"Sangyeon?"

Beep, beep, beep! The sound of your alarm rings as you wake up from your dream. You find yourself smiling as you open your eyes, but reality hits you like a lightning strike as you soon realize who was the male lead of your dream.

You aren't upset because the dream ended so abruptly, but rather the scenario reminds you of a time when you and Sangyeon were happy. When you two were still friends and not in the shit show you're currently in where he makes you feel like a total stranger.

Before you start wallowing in your own sadness, you rub your eyes and immediately get up from your bed, stretch, and check your phone. Today, you're assigned to check the inventory and the progress of everything the team needs for the play next week. While that sounds easy to do, it also means you have to quality check and sort out all the props, costumes, and other items before the tech rehearsal.

Today is definitely going to be a long one, but at least it will give you enough distraction from overanalyzing that dream, right?

You slowly exhale a sigh of frustration as you continue untangling the mess of rope on your lap. Not only have you been trying to straighten them out for the past hour or so, but you also start to feel a numbing pain in your tailbone as you sit cross-legged on the stage. It was a mistake positioning yourself here as you figure out this task, but at least you were a few more tasks away from calling it a day.

"Didn't expect to see you here—" A deep voice startles you. You were so focused on unraveling the rope from its tangled knots that you didn't pay attention to the creaking sound of the auditorium's entrance.

You clutch your chest, trying to calm your heartbeat while your eyes search for the source of the voice. You'd think finding who the voice belonged to would calm your nerves, but you suddenly feel your heart pounding harder than it did a few seconds ago when your eyes finally lock in on the other person's face. Oh god… Sangyeon.

"Uh—" You try to swallow down the non-existent lump stuck in your throat. "The rest of the team couldn't make it today so I volunteered to help…"

"I know, I signed up with you weeks ago to check on inventory, remember?" He awkwardly laughs. And in that moment, it only occurred to you that you did in fact sign up with Sangyeon for this weeks ago, the whole rift between you two making you forget that little detail.

"R-right…" You turn away to focus on the task at hand before he spots the embarrassed look on your face, quietly praying that he will decide to just leave you to your work.

But apparently, the universe had other plans for you today.

Sangyeon starts walking down the center aisle of the auditorium. The sound of his footsteps is so slow and gentle it's more nerve-wracking than any sound you've ever heard. You really do try your best to ignore him, but that alone starts to become difficult as the faint scent of his warm cologne starts to invade your senses.

"Need a hand?" Sangyeon offers, taking a step closer to the edge of the stage.

"No, I've got it," you quickly reply as your eyebrows furrow in frustration at a particularly difficult knot.

Sangyeon chuckles at your stubbornness, finding it cute rather than annoying. Suddenly, he places his hands on the edge of the stage and pulls himself up, his figure now closer to you than ever before as he sits right across from you.

"Here—" He grabs the tumbleweed of rope from your hands and starts to untangle the mess effortlessly.

"You were always a stubborn one, huh?" he teases, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment.

"I only learn from the best," you reply, sharing a slightly awkward laugh together.

"Come on," Sangyeon says, his voice softer now. "I'll help you so you don't stay up too late."

At first, you were worried about how awkward it would be to have Sangyeon around you for a couple more hours considering everything that has happened between you two. But much to your surprise, it was like nothing happened at all, as if you two were just picking up where your friendship had left off.

The first couple of minutes or so were obviously weird, but as soon as Sangyeon made a joke about an incident that happened backstage weeks ago with two of the crew members, you couldn't help but burst out laughing. From that point on, you two were talking nonstop as you tried to untangle the rope together. And for the first time in weeks, you both felt that missing part of you become whole again.

By the time you both finished straightening out the rope, he asked you what other tasks you had left so he could work on some while you did the other half. You both got up to do your tasks and met back at the same spot where you sat cross-legged from one another to finish retouching the paint on some props.

As the night went on, Sangyeon couldn't help but steal glances at you as you focused on painting the item in your hand. A warm, fuzzy feeling engulfed his entire body, remembering how it felt to be around you like this again.

He suddenly snapped back into reality as you let out a loud sigh as you brush the loose hair from your cheek with the back of your hand. A light streak of paint smudges your skin, making Sangyeon chuckle at the sight of it.

"What's so funny?" You looked at him quizzically. Sangyeon couldn't help but smile at your confused face. Without hesitation, he put down the brush in his hand and leaned closer to you.

"You've got a little something—" He held your head steady with his palm as his thumb tried to remove the smudge of paint on your cheek.

You suddenly became aware of how close you were to Sangyeon. You could see every detail of his face. Your heart began to race as you realized he was staring at you intently, his breath catching in his throat.

"T-there. Just a bit of paint, that's all—" Sangyeon stammered, his eyes never leaving your face. Before he could lower his hand, you impulsively grabbed his wrist a little more firmly than you had hoped, instantly missing the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

You melt at the touch of his caress, eyes closing as his warm hand envelops your skin. You turn your head slightly for your lips to lightly touch his inner wrist. Your heart starts pounding out of your chest; it's as if this moment seems too familiar to you.

"Sangyeon?" You say his name under your breath, wondering if he could hear how loud your heart is beating in this moment. Wondering if his heart is also beating as loud as yours.

Sangyeon's lips part, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to find the right words to say. How can he, especially when you look at him with deep longing? After everything that has happened between you two?

He sees your eyes falter with his lack of response as you try to slowly pull away from him. Regret starts to consume him, knowing that this would be the last time he'd ever get close to you again.

No, he can't lose you, not like this. It's either he does it now or regrets this for the rest of his life.

"Fuck it—" Sangyeon grips the back of your neck and pulls you towards him, your lips suddenly pressed against his.

You impulsively place your hand on his chest and push him away, scanning his face for his reaction. But all you can see is how dilated his pupils are, looking at you with an intense gaze you have never seen before. Suddenly, the air around becomes stuffy and surges with desire all at once.

Without a word, you grab the fabric of his shirt and pull him towards you desperately as you smash your lips against his once more. Sangyeon responds with the same level of desperation as he cups your face between his warm hands and presses a deeper kiss onto you. He groans at the sound of your faint whimper as he hastily pushes the props and other items that stand between you two to the side, not giving a damn if they get all messed up.

His body hovers over yours as he leans closer to you, gently guiding your back onto the wooden floor of the stage. Your hands try to cling onto his broad shoulders, but as soon as you lay completely flat beneath Sangyeon, you find yourself grabbing onto the back of his hair and pulling him closer than ever before.

He inserts his knee between your legs, causing them to split apart while he tries his best not to place his entire weight onto you. Your core accidentally brushes against his thigh as you both adjust yourselves, gasping into his mouth at the delicious friction below. Sangyeon wastes no time slipping his tongue between your lips, moaning at how your tongues move together so perfectly. He needed to taste more of you or else he would go insane.

As Sangyeon's lips pull away from yours, they start to make a trail from your jaw down to the column of your neck. Each kiss feels as if he's leaving permanent marks on you despite not actually sucking on your skin. Your faint whimpers and sighs of satisfaction encourage him to keep going. He was so lost in the moment that he had forgotten where you were. But that didn't matter to him at all.

All he could think about was having you in his arms again.

Just as things were starting to become even more heated between you two, a loud ringing echoes in the air. The source was coming from your phone, which was just a few inches away from Sangyeon. At first, you tried to ignore it, too caught up in the sensation of Sangyeon's lips on your neck, his hands inching dangerously close to areas that made your core throb in excitement. But when the phone kept on ringing, you couldn't avoid the curiosity any longer.

You reach for your phone, trying to calm yourself before answering so that whoever was calling you wouldn't suspect anything odd on your end (but that alone was difficult as Sangyeon deepened the kisses on your neck).

"Hello?" Your phone fumbles against your ear as you try to hold it steady. "Oh, Hyunjae, I was just—"

As soon as you said his name, Sangyeon froze. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him, suddenly bringing him back to reality. He chuckles under his breath, mentally slapping himself for getting so carried away with you like this that he forgot the person thats between you and him.

Sangyeon lets go of your waist and abruptly gets up to straighten his clothes and hair. Without warning, he hops off the stage and walks towards the exit of the auditorium. You try to process what the fuck is happening all the while maintaining your current conversation with Hyunjae over the phone.

"I'll call you back, Hyunjae. Give me a sec—" You get up and try to follow Sangyeon quickly.

By the time you burst through the theater's doors, you see Sangyeon walking to the nearest fountain to take a sip and splash water on his face. You walk towards him carefully as he lets out a sigh of frustration and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Sangyeon?" you call out softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. But he flinches away from your touch, causing a massive ache in your chest.

"This... this was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here," he replies, his voice cold and distant.

"What? Sangyeon, can you please just—"

"It's nothing," he interrupts you.

"It's not nothing. Tell me."

"Seriously, it's nothing. Leave it alone."

"Sangyeon, cut the bullshit," you snap, your patience wearing thin.

"What?" he asks, his tone defensive.

"You've been acting weird towards me ever since the day after my birthday, and I want to know why," you say, your voice rising with frustration. "Why have you been avoiding me? Making me feel like shit?"

Something in Sangyeon seems to snap at your words. "You want to know what it is?" he practically shouts. "Hyunjae. He's my fucking problem. Doesn't help that I see you two everywhere I go and practically hear you two at each other like animals!"

"I didn't even know you were coming over that day!" you retort. "This all wouldn't have happened if you had just not cut me off like that. It fucking hurt, Sangyeon. Then now you can't just suddenly walk into my life again like nothing happened, kiss me, and expect everything to be okay!"

"You wouldn't understand," Sangyeon says, his voice suddenly tired.

"Understand what exactly?" you press.

"I—" Sangyeon struggles to get the words out of his throat.

"That night, your birthday party," he says slowly, searching your face. "You don't remember anything at all?"

"Stop with the cryptic shit and just spit it out!" you say, your patience completely gone.

"Fine!" Sangyeon explodes. "You want to know why I've been avoiding you this whole time?"

You nod, bracing yourself for whatever he's about to say.

"You kissed me."

His words hit you like a train. "W-what?"

"And you wanna know what hurts the most? The way you looked at me the next day when I almost tried to kiss you again. You looked at me with this terrified expression on your face, as if you regretted what had happened." His voice lowers as he explains. You don't notice the tiny dots of tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"W-why didn't you just tell me?" you murmur, the pieces falling into place as you realize your dream from last night was actually a forgotten memory.

"I panicked," Sangyeon admitted. "What if you didn't mean it at all and I just made a fool of myself? I didn't want to ruin our friendship. And I know how dumb it was of me to cut you off, but it hurt knowing that you didn't feel the same way and I would have to live with that memory every time I looked at you."

A numbing silence fills the air for a moment.

"I—I couldn't face you after knowing what your lips felt like, what it felt like to hold you. I'm a coward, I know that now. I should've apologized during the dance, but it was too late."

You stood there, frozen, as Sangyeon poured his heart out. Then he suddenly asks you a question that made your heart stop.

"If I hadn't kissed you just a while ago, would you still have talked to me? Would you have chosen me over Hyunjae?" Before you could formulate a response, your phone rang again. It was Hyunjae. Sangyeon's face fell, and he took a step back.

"Go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll finish up the work inside."

You stand frozen as Sangyeon walks away. Everything suddenly feels too intense that you don’t even realize the tears that start to run down your cheeks. You need to get out of here or else you’ll drive yourself insane.

You grab your phone, fingers hovering over Hyunjae's number. At first you hesitate, torn between telling him the truth about your feelings for Sangyeon or seeking physical comfort to forget about everything. Your irrational brain picks the latter option instead.

“My place tonight? 😉”

Everything for you was completely a blur. One minute you're standing still outside the auditorium, the next you're pouncing on Hyunjae as soon as he rings your doorbell. You were so in over your head you had no grasp of time or any coherent thought.

"Looks like someone's missed me a bit too much, hm?" Hyunjae mumbles as he kisses you messily, pressing you against your front door.

"Just shut up and fuck me already, will you?" You breathe out, grabbing his hair in your hands.

"Yes, ma'am," he smirks before you both start hastily walking into the living room, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in your path.

To Hyunjae, this wouldn't be the first time he's seen you so worked up like this over him. But something about you right now seemed a bit off. Yes, seeing you incredibly horny like this was exciting, but your movements did not match the energy in your eyes. It was almost like you were on autopilot to him.

There's definitely something bothering you, he thinks. Or maybe you've been working all day and just need a way to relax. He'll probably check in on you later but for now, all he can think of is hearing those beautiful moans you make for him.

Too eager to get a taste of you, Hyunjae drags you over to your couch as he pulls you in to straddle his lap. He wastes no time littering your neck with kisses, groping your ass while you grind on his growing bulge.

"C'mere." He grabs your face in his hands, admiring little details of your face while he smiles to himself. "Tired from today?"

"Mhm." You hastily reply, wanting to not think of anything else except Hyunjae's touch. So you lean in to kiss his neck while moving your hips on his lap, your hands struggling to unbuckle his belt.

The way you answered just now threw Hyunjae off. There was definitely something wrong with you. How does he know? It was all in your eyes. Usually, you looked at Hyunjae directly when he called your attention. But now? It was like you were trying to completely avoid any sort of eye contact with him, and that was making him feel uneasy.

"Hey, uh—are you alright?" He calmly asks while gently holding your hips.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" You mumble against his throat. Hyunjae thought he might be overthinking, but the more you struggled to unbuckle his belt (which was not a difficult task for you in the past), he couldn't continue on with you like this.

He calls out your name, hoping you'd stop to look at him, but you don't pay him mind. He says your name two more times and you still ignore him. Instead, he grabs your wrists and holds them up to finally get your attention.

"Talk to me, please—" He searches your face, trying to get a better look at you.

"There's nothing to talk about, Hyunjae." You huff out, irritated that he suddenly halted your movements.

"You think I'm dumb? There is clearly something wrong and you don't wanna say it," he says sternly, trying not to get too irritated with how you're acting towards him.

"I'm telling you there's nothing wrong."

"I don't believe that at all."

"Ugh, Hyunjae, can you just stop? It's none of your business!"

"It is my business if it's making you this upset—"

"Why do I have to tell you anyway?! It's not like you're my real boyfriend—" Your eyes widen as you suddenly regret saying those last words. And to add fuel to the fire, the way Hyunjae looks at you makes you want to vomit. You've never seen his face drop in an instant. The way the light in his eyes burned out so quick, too.

"Hyunjae, I— I didn't mean to, I'm so—"

"You're right," Hyunjae interrupts you.

"What?" You look at him confused.

"You're right. I'm not your boyfriend. But I am your friend. And I deserve to know what's been bothering you because I care about you so much I hate seeing you like this."

His stern but concerned voice hits you so fast you end up bursting into tears on the spot. Sobbing hysterically into his chest as you cry out all the pent-up emotions you locked away from tonight.

Hyunjae instantly wraps his arms around you and envelops you in a warm embrace. He gently strokes your hair while steadying his own breath, waiting for you to calm down until you feel better. You both sit in silence for a few minutes until Hyunjae's voice breaks the ice.

"It's about Sangyeon, isn't it?" He says calmly. Your head springs up in response.

"How did you—"

"The last time I saw you cry like this was when you were outside the gym during the dance." Hyunjae cups your face and wipes the remaining tears from your eyes with his thumbs.

"And well… if you were crying about me, we know it's for an entirely different reason." He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. You let out a faint laugh as he continues to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

"You should be with him—" Hyunjae says as he looks into your eyes. Before you can even ask, he continues. "That's who you want to be with, right? That's who you should be with right now, not me."

"Hyunjae, I—" You shake your head in disbelief. "What about you?"

"Me?" He asks with a surprised tone. "This isn't about me! It's about you. I'm not the one you need, we both know that. We both knew that at the very beginning. It was always Sangyeon." Hyunjae's voice starts getting weaker the more he speaks out the truth.

"I've always seen the way he looked at you and how you looked at him. It's clear as day that you both need each other more than you both realize it."

"But what about our agreement?" You ask him softly.

"Remember the first rule? If one of us wants to stop this thing at any given moment, the contract will end." He pauses his thought as he looks at you a little longer, taking you to memory before letting out a big sigh.

"And besides, our agreement broke a long time ago."

"What do you mean?" Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Well—" Hyunjae's cheeks start to warm up. "I fell in love with you the night of our first time." He faintly smiles. Rule number two, if any of us catch some sort of feelings for one another, the contract is immediately terminated.

"That night, you looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. That I wasn't the guy everyone in school knew as some kind of dick. You looked at me as Hyunjae, the real Hyunjae." He brushes a hair behind your ear. "How dumb of me to fall for those pretty eyes of yours." He sighs once more, trying his best to not let you see his lips quivering.

"I'm so sorry—" You start to tear up, knowing that this would probably be the last moments you have with Hyunjae.

"Hey, don't go all soft on me just because I said that, alright?" Hyunjae tries to bring energy back into his voice.

"I knew what I was getting into. You deserve to be happy, and if I'm not the reason for your happiness and you're stuck with me, that would break my heart even more."

He grabs your face so you could look him in the eye properly. "Got it?" You nod in response.

"Now c'mon. Be a good hostess and walk me out of your apartment." Hyunjae smiles before grabbing your wrists and pulling you up from his lap.

He helps you grab your clothes on the floor and even dresses you up and does the same for himself after. By the time he sets one foot out your front door, he suddenly turns around to face you.

"Can I just have one more request from you before this is all over?" he asks.

"Oh? What would that be?" You look up at him.

"Just one kiss goodbye." He smirks playfully. You chuckle before nodding your head to give him the go signal.

You close your eyes waiting for the warmth of his lips on yours for the last time, but instead feel it on your forehead.

"Don't be a stranger, alright?" he places his hand on your shoulder and gently rubs it for the last time before completely heading out the door.

For the last couple of hours, Sangyeon did nothing but lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He could still feel his heart pounding in his ears from your heated exchange at the auditorium earlier this evening. What made things worse was the fact he could still feel your lips on his, and your little sighs of pleasure were replaying in his head.

Where did it all go wrong? Was it when he offered to help you? Or when you leaned into his palm just like you did when you first kissed him? He couldn't stop mentally beating himself up for going off like that on you when you didn't even remember that night to begin with.

And now, not only did he pour his heart out, but there's also a guaranteed chance you may never speak to him again. He regrets this night more than keeping the truth from you.

2 A.M. was what was read on the clock of his bedside table when he turned his head. He hardly even noticed the time go by as too many thoughts and emotions were stirring in his head. His head started to ache from staying up too late.

It was difficult to forget everything that had happened between you two, but sleep seemed like the best option for him at the moment to distance himself from the issue. Sangyeon tried to close his eyes and count sheep; he could slowly start to feel himself drift into sleep until he heard loud knocks on his front door.

Pissed off, he groans and trudges to see who had interrupted his moment to fall sleep. Sangyeon swings the door open quickly, hoping to show the person on the other side his irritable mood.

"You better have a good explanation as to why you're here—" Sangyeon's eyes widen at the unexpected visitor.

"Hyunjae? What— what are you doing here?" he asks.

"Do you love her?" Hyunjae looks him in the eye.

"What?" Sangyeon's eyebrows furrow at the vague question.

"I said," Hyunjae sighs out of frustration, "Do you love her? Because she fucking loves you, man. And if you don't go over there right now—" Hyunjae takes a step forward, his figure almost towering over Sangyeon's.

"You will lose the greatest person that has ever come into your life," he asserted firmly. Out of nowhere, Hyunjae pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and shoves it into Sangyeon's hand.

"No time to explain, just go!" Hyunjae increases his voice slightly.

Sangyeon stays still for a moment, trying to process what the hell is happening right now, then moves hastily to grab his phone, keys, and put on his shoes. As soon as Sangyeon locks his front door, he turns around to face Hyunjae.

"T-thanks, man. I owe you one," he humbly says. Hyunjae faintly smiles, nodding in return. A silent truce being made between the two.

Sangyeon drives to your place like a maniac, not caring if he has run any stop lights or whatever. He doesn't care at all. All he can think about is getting there in time to see you before it's too late to win you back. By the time he reaches your front door, he takes a deep breath before ringing your doorbell.

You open the door slowly, cautious about who could be visiting you at this time. The moment you peek and get a glimpse of Sangyeon's face, your face knits in confusion.

"S-Sangyeon? What are you doing here?" You look up at him. Sangyeon can see how red and puffy your eyes are; it almost makes him mentally beat himself up once more, but he will deal with that later.

"I came to see you," he matches your whisper. "Can I come in?" You nod and open the door wider as he takes off his shoes, lets himself in, and places the bouquet of flowers down on a table. You're slightly stunned as soon as you close the door and turn around to see Sangyeon standing close to you.

"W-what are you doing?" Your voice quivers as your eyes search his.

"What I should've done a long time ago—" he gently grabs your face in his palms, observing your reaction to his touch before leaning in to give you a light kiss on the lips. You try your best to kiss him back with the same firmness despite feeling incredibly weak from crying your eyes out the whole night.

When Sangyeon pulls away from the kiss, he then gently kisses your forehead and slowly litters your face with his kisses. You instinctively wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer while your eyes flutter shut and melt into his touch. Tears of joy start streaming down your face as your heartbeat slowly paces itself to a calm rhythm.

"You really hurt me, you know?" you croak.

"And I'll never do that again." Sangyeon looks deeply into your eyes. "I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to you." He kisses your forehead once more before pulling you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your hips while yours move to wrap around his neck.

You stay like this for a while, basking in each other's warm embrace. As Sangyeon opens his eyes for a moment, he catches his reflection staring back at him through a mirror nearby. When his eyes drift to the back of your figure, his heartbeat starts to rise intensely.

It did not occur to him that when you opened the door, you were wearing nothing but a short and very thin nightgown. Naturally, the silk of the nightgown bunches up as his arms hold your waist, giving him a tasteful glimpse of not only your lace underwear but also the fact that the undergarment you’re wearing shows your ass beautifully.

Sangyeon suddenly starts a coughing fit, trying to beat his chest to clear his throat while you're taken aback.

"Are you okay? What happened?" You hold his shoulder while he attempts to regain his composure.

"I—uh—" He scratches the back of his head, trying his best to avoid looking in your direction. But that fails when you catch him scanning your figure and his cheeks suddenly glowing a shade of pink.

"I—I can turn around while you grab a robe." His eyes look around your apartment. You giggle at his sudden embarrassment, finding it rather endearing more than anything. You take a step closer to him, your bodies practically millimeters apart.

"It's alright Sangyeon, you can look." You try to hide the smirk forming on your lips.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman here, okay?" He replies, still trying to avoid your gaze. But he is instantly brought back to face you as you pull his chin with your thumb and index finger to get him to look directly into your eyes.

"But… what if I don't want you to be a gentleman tonight?" you whisper.

"Oh, thank fucking God—" Sangyeon pulls you into a heated kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck once more as his hands travel down to the doughy flesh of your ass, groping and kneading it.

Your hands are all over each other as you both struggle to make your way into your bedroom, giggling in between kisses as he nearly trips over your carpet. Sangyeon eagerly plops you down on the edge of your bed, kneeling down to match your eye level as you pull him by his shirt to swipe the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip. He moans into your mouth as he opens up for you, intertwining his tongue with yours as his hands rest on your lap.

Sangyeon slowly spreads your legs apart and inserts himself in between, his hands gripping your inner thighs as his lips start to travel down to your neck. You sigh out dreamily, feeling the warmth of his lips make their mark on you.

You suddenly yelp at a particular spot that Sangyeon nips. He pulls away to check if you're okay. You nod, giving him the signal to continue. Before diving back in, Sangyeon notices the spot he had nipped was already red, indicating a mark had been made prior to his own.

Hyunjae… He can already hear that laugh ringing in his ears, but decides not to let the idea get to him and focus on you right now.

Sangyeon continues to litter your neck with kisses, leaving a trail as he makes his way to kissing your inner thighs. Your breathing starts to shake as his lips inch closer to your sex. Sangyeon wasn't even near your core, and he could already feel the heat radiating from you, making him smirk against your skin before giving a featherlight kiss to the wet patch on your underwear.

"Sangyeon, please…" You whine, desperate to feel his tongue wedged between your folds.

"Shh, it’s okay," he looks up at you as he kisses your clothed mound once more. "Let me take the lead."

His fingers pull your panties to the side, feeling his length throb at the beautiful sight of your slick glistening, enticing him to just dive into you. And he does exactly that as he kisses your folds before lapping his tongue between them, taking his sweet time to memorize what you feel like against his wet muscle.

You let out a loud moan as you lie back to enjoy the feeling of Sangyeon between your legs. He continues on like this for a moment until the tip of his tongue starts to circle around your sensitive bud, making your hands fly to his head to pull his face closer to your core.

His lips suck on your throbbing clit as he inserts two fingers into your entrance, curling them up to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back. Your hips start to mindlessly move on their own as you grind yourself on Sangyeon's face. You sound incredibly hot; it spurs Sangyeon to lower his sweatpants down to free his aching cock and fist it harshly.

You start to feel your high approaching fast, the knot inside you ready to snap any second now. But the moment the vibrations of Sangyeon's groan ring against your core, you scream in ecstasy. You clench your thighs together, squeezing his head as your essence bursts in Sangyeon's mouth. For a quick moment, he thinks to himself that if he could choose to leave this earth, he would gladly go out by being suffocated between your legs.

He pulls his head away to check on you, your chest rising and falling heavily as you catch your breath. You couldn't believe the sight before you right now: Sangyeon's disheveled hair as he too catches his breath, the shine of your essence all over his mouth and chin, and the warmth of his cheeks flaring.

"T-that was—" You try to express your current state, but Sangyeon interrupts you as he quickly removes his shirt and gets up from his spot, exposing his glorious abs and his incredibly hard cock standing at attention. You were so mesmerized by his body you didn't even see him suddenly hovering over your body and kissing you like a man starved.

"Oh, I'm not finished with you yet, sweetheart—" he mumbles against your lips. He spreads your legs further apart with his knee and lowers his weight on you, the tip of his manhood nudging your sensitive clit in the process.

Sangyeon kisses your chest, busy distracting you with the way his mouth sucks on your exposed nipple. He swiftly grabs your legs to wrap them around his torso. And in one swift moment, his thick, veiny length fills you up entirely. You both moan as he starts to roll his hips into you, pumping himself in and out of your cunt as your walls grip around him tightly.

Your bodies begin to melt into each other the longer Sangyeon fucks into your heat, all the raw emotions that have been brewing between you finally free from their confinement. He buries his head into your neck as his thrusts start to become stuttered, the throb of his length inside you signaling his high approaching. You dig the heels of your feet into his lower back, locking him in place as you also feel yourself reaching for the stars once more.

"Let go, Sangyeon, it's okay." You moan into his ear, and instantly he lets out a guttural moan as he stills his movements. His warm release bursts inside you as your own high finally falls off the edge, your walls gripping his member like a vice as he embraces you tightly in the process.

You allow yourselves to stay like this a little longer, taking the time to process everything that had just happened before Sangyeon pulls out and gets up to grab a warm towel to get you cleaned up. He freshens up a bit in your bathroom before finally joining you under the covers. You lay your head on his chest as he pulls you in for a hug.

You sigh dreamily, looking up at him as he smiles at you. You both slowly kiss once more before finally drifting to sleep, both your hearts and minds finally put at ease.

The next day, you wake up with Sangyeon hugging you close. His lips are pressed on your forehead as you feel the warmth of his breath fanning you. You smile, recalling the events of last night and finally being in Sangyeon's arms again.

You slowly peel his arms off you as you get up to use the restroom and make yourself coffee. As you finish brewing your coffee, the bouquet of flowers Sangyeon had put down on the counter catches your eye. You gently grab the bouquet and find a good vase to transfer the flowers into. A sealed envelope tucked between the flowers falls to your feet.

You pick up the envelope and scan the item in your hand for a quick moment before opening the flap and seeing the card inside. You smile to yourself as soon as you read the note, a bittersweet feeling blooming in your chest as you read:

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't be crying anymore, okay? — L.HJ"

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