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lavilavs · 1 month ago

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♡ˎˊ˗ From the start

› Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

› Scenario: You love Jason so much that you completely forgot what you are. Silly you!

› Notes: English is not my first language + I feel like the ending is rushed, so—my apologies <3

This is hell.

You're hanging by a thread between continuing and giving up. Catching Jason's attention is becoming more of a wish than a goal. You could only hope to get it.

You've caught everyone's attention but his. It didn't matter that his brothers complimented you, nor Alfred, and not even his father! You only wanted his approval.

His brothers were witnesses to your suffering. Always somehow being at the scene of the crime—a.k.a. your embarrassment.

Your first attempt at catching Jason's attention was showing off your prowess as a fellow vigilante. What else could a big, strong guy like him admire in a woman, right? He seems like the type to go for strong women. His past flings say a lot about his type.

Much to your surprise, Jason agreed to come with you to the training area. Under the pretense of getting tips from him, you managed to make him come along. And how else can you demonstrate your full potential without a sparring buddy? Good thing Dick was there to save the day.

When Jason turned his back on you to sit on the bench, you quickly took this opportunity to tell Dick your plan. The eldest brother gasped at your romantic advances towards his brother, saying stuff about young love and how passionate you are towards his brother.

You quickly pushed him away by the face when you heard Jason speak.

"I thought you guys wanted to spar, not chitchat." Somehow, without looking at him, you just knew he rolled his eyes.

It was pointless to talk back. You'd just feel annoyed at the fact that he's so dense and impatient at times. Both you and Dick took your respective places, getting in stance to fight. With Jason being the spectator, he took care of being the referee as well.

You gaze at Dick intently as you wait for Jason to give the go signal to spar. His eyes sparkled with excitement, almost looking like he's about to burst. Maybe you shouldn't have told him about Jason.

At the sound of Jason's voice, you both went head-to-head. You shared a groan over your foreheads clashing, hands clasped and shaking with force to push the other back. Realizing none would submit, you released each other and gathered your breaths. Dick didn't have an opportunity to react to your fast recovery, but he still managed to dodge your attacks.

It was going so well. Dick looked like he had a hard time fighting you off. Despite being an acrobat, your flexibility was on another level. You were too slippery.

"You had some secret lessons from Selina?" he jokes.

"Nah, all talent." You smirk at him.

You were filled with adrenaline. Too happy that you were doing so well. Seeing Dick struggle to keep up with you is a testament to your skills.

You sneak a glance at Jason as you perform a flip. Thinking back at it, you shouldn't have. Because seeing that look of approval on his face made you overjoyed that you managed to fumble your landing.

"Shit!" You yell in panic.

You were grateful to know that the mats were soft enough to land in; the worst you could get from the fall is embarrassment, and you can live with that. But something hard snapped you out of your thoughts—you didn't land on the mats. You hear a groan beneath you, feeling his muscles tightening and flexing against your suit.

His scent, you know this. Your heart races at the thought of Jason catching you and taking the impact instead. So he did care about you like that.

"Woah—hey, don't snuggle up to me like that." You snap your head up at Dick's awkward chuckle, his hand lightly pushing you away to prevent you from smushing your face against his chest any longer.

What do you expect from men who live with each other? Dick must've borrowed his cologne. It was such a bad timing. It makes you want to strangle yourself at the mishap.

Dick wanted to laugh at your face, but he knew not to. Seeing that mixed look of shame and anger, he would rather not get roped in by your fury. But Dick being Dick, a small portion of his laughter slipped out of his mouth. His shoulders rattled as he tried to stop himself.

If God can truly hear everyone, you're praying that he would just take you right here, right now. You could figuratively feel foam in your mouth from the embarrassment. You lied—you cannot live with the shame of this fall. It could've been easily avoided if you played it off cool. But those escape plans of yours shattered the moment Dick caught you.

"Alright, that's enough." You hear Jason's gruff voice behind you, looming over your tangled bodies on the floor. Thank God you can't see his face right now. You don't want to see him eye to eye after falling on top of his brother.

He hooks his hands under your arms, lifting you up easily, and places you on his shoulders. You slumped in defeat, deciding to be silent for another few hours before having the courage to speak to Jason again.

"Tip number 1: Don't snuggle up to your enemies." Jason teases you further.

You take it back—extend those few hours to a few days.

──── ୨୧ ────

Your second attempt happened within Wayne Tower. Tim happened to need extra help with security, and you also happen to be adept with technology. Of course, Jason wouldn't like a woman with just strength. You need to have the smarts too. And this is not a moment you'll waste after that moment with Dick last week.

Tim was reluctant to let both—er, you—help him. Seeing how Jason was just dragged here. He didn't even hide the scowl from his face nor his grumbling.

If only Tim had gone along with his gut feeling to throw you guys out of his room, you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself for a second time.

It was simple, really. Just help him monitor the extra footage since his occasional helper just had to be unavailable today of all times. Tim can do it all alone, but he needs to have sufficient rest for the gala next week.

Once he finished instructing you both on what to do, you and Jason sat together by the corner and began working out the files.

Everything was doing great. It felt too great if you're being honest. What more can you want when you have Jason this close next to you? Your breath hitches when he leans in to whisper something. His muscles unknowingly flex every time he positions himself into a more comfortable position in his tiny seat.

You're hyperaware of everything about Jason in this dark room where only the dim lights of the screens illuminate yourselves. He's so close that you could almost kiss him. And he knows that too. He directed his attention to you, stopping momentarily to gaze at you.

This isn't a dream. If it was, why was there an annoying beep from the monitor next to you? Jason can feel this tension too, right?

Wait—beeping?

You both turn your heads to the monitor. A red notice taking your attention without delay.

"Anomaly found, click this to exterminate." You read the notice aloud.

Jason swears this was the dumbest clickbait he has ever seen. He can't even believe this was here. What happened to his brother's extremely difficult security on his tech?

"This is stupid." He glides the mouse over to the close button.

"Hey! Wait, no!" You slap his hand away.

"What the hell?" Jason looks at you deadpan.

"This could be important, let's call Tim."

Tell him you can't be serious right now because ain't no way you're falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

"He's not here. Let's just fix this ourselves." You quickly grab the unattended mouse on the table. "No, this is a v—" You slap his hand away again when you see the countdown on the screen, urgently trying to make you click the link. "Let go, Jason. We're gonna get in trouble if we don't fix this." You groan at him, desperately trying to snatch the mouse away from him.

You both fight over the mouse. Things get intense to the point where you had to stand up and push him away. Jason earns a glare from you. Cocky, big bastard just sitting there cause he knows he doesn't have to put in as much effort as you do.

That's it, you've had enough. Jason's eyes go wide when you practically lunge yourself at him and successfully snatch the mouse off him. Before he could even stop you, the action was done.

"Trust me, it's not that bad, Jason. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Why would the "worst" happen?" Tim's voice catches your attention from the door, holding a tray of two drinks and fries.

"Nothing at all. We were just fighting over this—"

"Ngh—ah! More, please!"

You all went silent. Eyes going wide from the multiple porn videos popping up on Tim's screens. Shame and anger overtake your senses once again. Embarrassment just loves you this much, huh?

Jason grunts when he gets pushed along with his chair to the side, effectively making him face the wall. You didn't know how you managed to push him that far, but it's understandable when you put all your strength into the kick as you rebooted Tim's system along with running his anti-virus program.

You release a sigh of relief but it was quickly brought back into your throat at the sight of Tim looking at you with a judgmental expression.

You try talking, but Tim puts his finger to your lips. "No need. I can take it from here."

Much to your dismay, you have embarrassed yourself again in front of Jason and his brother. You both walk out silently, an awkward air surrounding you.

"You think that was just his leaked search history?" Jason cackles at the thought while you groan about another failed attempt at showing off.

──── ୨୧ ────

You spend another week recovering from your mistakes. And tonight, you swear that it will be successful. The gala would be your stage in capturing his attention. To think that you're here fitting dresses with the youngest Wayne might be a way of the universe telling you that you'll embarrass yourself again, but you won't let that happen, fate won't get in your way tonight!

"So, what do you think, Dami?" Damian looks up from his shoujo manga, narrowing his eyes at you as you twirl around in your red dress. His silence worried you a tad bit, so you can't help but egg him on. "Well? Good enough to catch Jason's attention?" You laugh awkwardly.

"He'll like whatever you put on," he tells his not-so opinion before reading his manga again.

The answer didn't satisfy you. It only made you more confused and conflicted. Like, yeah, what would a kid know about dresses and stuff, but he's still Jason's brother, he'll know what his brother likes... Maybe.

You stumble beside the boy with a groan. Cracking under the loss of hope of getting Jason's attention. Damian looked at you as if you were a child having tantrums beside him.

"You've gotta help me out here, Dami. I'm trying so hard to catch his attention, and I can't even get at least one smile from him these past few weeks." You rant to the youngest brother, hiding your face in your palms as you feel tears prickling your eyes. Love sucks!

He mutters something beside you, but you're too busy in your own misery to mind it.

You sigh again, feeling stupid that you're so helpless that you're ranting to a child of all people. Silence overtakes the room. One is too sad to speak any longer, and one is too speechless at your predicament.

"I don't know what's going on between you two, but trust me when I say you look marvelous, big sister."

Damian's compliment warms your heart as much as it warmed his own cheeks by saying it. You pull him into a hug and ruffle his hair. He retaliates by trying to wiggle out of your hold.

"Thanks, Dami. You made me feel better." Hearing your sincerity, Damian accepts your intimacy. You feel him relaxing under your touch.

You step inside the gala with unwavering confidence. Damian really boosted your mood up despite being a little devil at times. Dozens of cameras flashed your way, almost blinding you if Jason's broad back didn't block all of it. He took your hand in his as you both climbed up the ladder.

He stopped you from walking any further. Seeing your confusion, he only laughed and pulled you beside him to face the cameras. You instinctively smile and pose, totally minding his hand placement on your body. You could feel your brain short-circuit when you could feel it rest on the small of your back.

Jason feels you lean against him more. He smoothly looked down at you. You locked eyes with his dark, brooding ones. He was so breathtaking from this angle.

"I thought you hated the press?"

"I thought I could make an exception tonight."

You didn't question him any further. Just thought hard as to how important this gala must've been for him to take pictures without a forced smile on his face for once. Jason looked very happy tonight.

He looked so good with a red tie and suit. It even matched with your dress. It was refreshing to see him look sophisticated and modest instead of his usual attire. Jason looked more handsome when his hair was obviously prepared by an A-class hairstylist.

You both part ways at the entrance. He kissed your hand and pulled you close, just enough to make sure only you could hear him.

"I'll come back for you later. I need to make sure everything's perfect." His breath tickled your neck.

Jason didn't wait for you to reply, he got swept away by Dick and Bruce, who gave you a curt nod and a smile. Only Alfred was left beside you.

"Do come in, the guests are excited to meet you." Alfred's sweet smile almost made you miss what he said. Did he say that right? You're sure he didn't stutter, but what?

You spare him a small laugh first so as to avoid sounding rude. "I'm sorry—me? Are you serious?"

"Why yes, you're the star of the night. Wonderful dress, by the way."

Speechless, you could only nod.

"I must return now to Master Bruce's side. Have fun, miss. It's all for you." Alfred bows goodbye.

You were left in the middle of the gala feeling awkward and confused. A lot of things aren't making any sense, and you're too scared to move from your place in fear of doing something embarrassing. Being around his family just seems to magnetize shame to you.

"You look lost," Tim coos beside you. You turn around to face both of the youngest brothers. The blade in your heel retracted itself as you tapped anxiously, an awkward chuckle resonating from you.

"Ironic since this gala is for you." Damian crosses his arms, displeased at the way you're so clueless about everything. You can't help but feel so out of place despite being the so-called reason for the party.

Before you could ask any further, Tim and Damian get swarmed by the elite class that was invited by Bruce himself. Talking to them either for matchmaking or strictly business.

Someone pulled you to the side, your face colliding with their toned chest. By scent alone, you know who it is. You're fighting very hard to keep your heart at a steady pace. His name leaves your mouth in a breathless whisper.

"Miss me already?" Yes.

"You wish."

You both went silent. The air felt suffocating but also not at the same time. There was just an elephant in the room that the other was unaware of.

But you had a mission. You made up your mind, and you're not turning back. All the mistakes and embarrassment you've felt over the past few weeks have come to this—your hand holding his tightly as you run through the corridors.

Jason followed you blindly, watching as the air went through your hair, your perfume along with it. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips when you wear his gift tonight. From head to toe, you were adorned with items that he bought and picked out for you.

You closed the door to the balcony. There was only you and him here. No distractions. No brothers of his around. This was your moment. And even if someone knocked on this very door, looking for you both, best believe that they'll have to wait if they don't want to end up in a casket.

Jason looked at you quizzically, but there was something else with it. You felt yourself freeze in place under his gaze. Why is he looking at you like that? You shrug it off—no more distractions!

"Jason, I—well, it's been a tough few weeks for us, mostly me, but you're always there as well to witness all of it."

There was a gap between you and him. This balcony was spacious, but you didn't have to put this much space between you guys. Jason slowly walked over to you.

"And those quick trips we made were all part of my plan, you see."

He's getting closer.

"I wanted to show myself off to you. Maybe that way, you'll see how amazing I am."

You subconsciously step back as he steps forward.

"'Cause despite all of it, I just can't seem to keep your attention. I went through humiliation—most of it was my fault, I know. But how else can I prove myself to you?"

Jason caught up to you, caging you between him and the stone wall, keeping you from falling. He wiped off the tears you didn't know that were already falling.

"Is this why Damian asked me if we were having a lover's quarrel?" He asked you softly, cradling your face in his hands. Judging by your expression, you needed more context.

"Princess... honestly? All this time—I thought we were together already." Jason never looked more unsure. "Dad, my brothers, and even Alfred thought we were official. That's what this gala is for; to officiate our relationship to the public." He smiles at you softly.

You wanted to laugh at yourself. Or maybe at Jason. The situation was too eccentric to even process quickly enough. So you're telling me that Jason thought you were dating all this time and you assumed that he didn't even like you? What did you even do all that for? Oh my gooood. Save the embarrassment for later, because you don't wanna die strangling yourself full of shame.

"What—? How? When? How did you—?" You can't even formulate a sentence from how shocked you are.

Jason laughs at your reaction, but he supposes that it's also his fault for assuming. He pulls you close and hugs you tightly. "What else would I assume when you slipped that safety pin on my finger when we fought those hooligans on the east side?"

Oh.

That time when you jokingly proposed to him after jumping into action while you were drunk. That's when you confessed to him? But hey, it isn't your fault that he called you as backup while you were out having fun with your friends. Meaning it's also not your fault if you don't remember.

You laugh at him. "Did you not notice I was drunk?"

"Of course I did, idiot. I even had to carry you home." He grumbles at the memory.

"But you still accepted that drunk confession of mine."

"A confession is a confession. You're mine whether you remember or not."

You relax in his hold, burying yourself in the comfort of his arms. You felt so happy hearing the truth. It makes you overjoyed that Jason feels the same way. Although this wasn't how you planned on starting with him, it's surely an unforgettable moment.

It may not be as romantic or perfect as others would say. Who cares! It's a moment that will be engraved in your memories as a funny misunderstanding that made your love bloom even more.

You pull Jason in for a kiss, pouring all of your love and affection into it. You've gone through a lot just to be his. Except, you were his the entire time. You're not holding back, and he isn't either. His hands grabbed on to your neck and behind you, holding you closer as if this was the last time he'll ever get to savor the taste of your lips.

You feel yourself levitate and be placed upon the balcony. Falling is the least of your worries. You know Jason wouldn't let it happen. His tounge slides against your bottom lip again, asking for another. He looks up at you, finding permission from your eyes. And once he got it, he almost took your breath away. Jason kissed like he was a starved man.

He blinked at you when you pulled away. You take a moment to collect yourself before speaking, "Ask me officially. Ask me to be yours." Your fingers find amusement in his soft hair as you wait for him.

Jason says your name like he was only allowed to say it twice a year. Loving the way it rolls off his tounge. "May I be yours?" He pampers your face with light pecks. And he grins when he hears a lovely yes fall from your lips like an answered prayer. "Atta girl."

Jason laughs as he picks you off the balcony and places you in the middle before sharing another kiss with you again.

He just can't get enough now that you're really his.

Your only sin would be thinking that his attention wasn't yours to keep from the beginning at all.

Extra Scene!

"Second Wayne child revealed his girlfriend at last night's gala! Found passionately kissing 50 meters above ground"

You feel your mouth foaming at whoever made this headline about you and Jason. He comes rushing in the living room when he heard you cursing. You grumble beside him, saying how you can't even rip it to shreds because you don't want Bruce getting mad at you for making a mess.

You hand him the newspaper, pointing angrily at the headline. Jason wouldn't even lie, he had respect to the journalist who wrote this paper. They had balls. Heck—how did they even manage to get a photo this clear 50 meters high?

In the kitchen however, his three brothers were busy splitting up the money they got from the journalist.

"I should get 50%, I was the one who flew up all the way just to get the picture. Mind you that I saw them kissing firsthand!" Damian shudders at the memory.

His two older brothers fought desperately on their share, disagreeing with their 25% portion.

They stopped their discussion when they smelled your perfume inside the kitchen. Their adam's apple throbbing up and down with fear.

"100% all mine. No whining unless you want to be revoked of uncle privileges."

"ALREADY?" They all shout in unison.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #dc robin #nightwing #red hood #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #batfamily x reader #lavi's oasis #dick grayson #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc x y/n #yandere jason todd

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01zfan · 1 month ago

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venusian

producer!anton x alien!reader | 10k words

another installment of my rock the house seriez! this was fun to write even though it took me forever.

contains: face sitting, alot of implied sex, intergalactic booty call, anton catching feelings

rock the house masterlist

Anton gripped the metal of his fire escape, looking down at street below him.

He was a struggling artist, not the type that leaped over banisters down to oncoming traffic but the one that watched. He watched people like they were characters in movies, crafting stories for each single one. The student rushing to beat the light had an assignment waiting for them when they got home. The mother that had to pull her kids behind her on a plastic scooter worked all day, the man was looking at his phone was texting his mistress.

Honestly, it was too cold for Anton to be outside. He was also too busy to be doing this. He had a list of things to do before his band released their newest project. But like a thousand times before, the closer Venusian got to the release date of music Anton started getting sentimental and spending his time doing things he shouldn’t be doing. Procrastination is what Wonbin called it, Sohee referred to it as cold feet. In the deep corner of Internet somewhere they would say this was a product of Anton being a hack, and each project Venusian released, the world was closer to finding it out.

Now, Anton couldn’t dispute this. He was talented, no one could take that away from him. From a young age he was able to play instruments at an advanced level and read classical music like it was a second language. Reading notes on a musical staff came to him faster than reading actual words in a book. He confused his teachers with his disdain for math when he was so easily able to divide a beat down to the hemidemisemiquaver. He was born with perfect pitch and a metronome built into his feet, and was able to memorize anything music related at the drop of a hat.

Anton knew it would be to everyone’s dismay if they found out how often he lost faith in himself. Why would someone who was held in such high regard lose his poise so often? Why would someone so talented refuse to claim the section leader position when it so clearly belonged to him? Anton—and apparently the trolls on the Internet—knew the answers to these questions long before everyone else. He looked over the railing looking for inspiration because like he knew he was a musical prodigy, he also knows he doesn’t have a creative bone in his body.

He knew no one would understand. Creativity wasn’t sight reading music perfectly or being able to tune the other people in your section when they were off key. Creativity to Anton was being able to pull something from the depth of your mind. He would’ve settled for ideas coming to him slowly, but they didn’t come to him at all. Anton needed months to compose sheet music, and atleast a week notice if he had to improvise for the class. Everything he did was too refined, devoid of emotion. He blamed it on the classical cello lessons his mother put him in the moment he expressed an interest in music. He believed his young impressionable brain never had the ability to entertain the idea of music before the technical aspect of was shoved down his throat. He never got the luxury of being that kid that banged on pots and pans with abandon because he liked the way it sounded—he was the kid that had a private lessons teacher looming over him with a ruler in case he got anything wrong.

Anton lacked the complex understanding of the ebbs and flows of the music and where modern musicians fit into the crests. He was able to hide his failings as a musician until he made it to university, where each of his teachers seemed to pick up on it like a sixth sense.

He believed he was cursed when his senior project called for him to write and produce a whole mini album. The technical aspect of it all didn’t frighten him, he knew the ins and outs of producing software. What scared Anton shitless was that he had nothing to produce. He could hear a note and know exactly where it landed but he could never find out why it was that note. What drove someone to sing in minor key instead of major key, what idea popped into someones mind to make something?

Anton needed creativity if he wanted to graduate. At the very least enough to get him through five songs that were three to five minutes in length. He stayed after hours sitting in a practice room in silence looking for creativity, then he spent time drafting an extremely long and pitiful email to his faculty advisor.

Right before Anton could press send and reveal his biggest secret, he met his first bandmate.

(Technically, Anton heard Sohee before he met him. As he edited the final line of his email he heard the distinct voice of someone in the practice room beside his. The soundproof walls couldn’t block the voice next door. Anton perked up, straightening his slouched back as he listened, really listened to the voice next to him. Even when the voice would chip away after losing air or crack when his throat would become strained Anton knew the voice was special. The organic sound was refreshing, it drew Anton in so much that his pitiful email was long forgotten.

He left the practice room and peaked through the window. He looked at the back of Sohee’s head as he continued to sing, his hand gripping tightly on the music stand in front of him. When Sohee tipped his head back and another beautiful falsetto note bled through the door, Anton walked right in. He was able to connect a face to the voice, someone he had seen before. The nursing major in the music theory class Anton was a teacher’s aide for. Anton remembers Sohee’s reason for joining the class was to fulfill a requirement.)

From there the rest was history. Anton spoke with his foot in his mouth, the sudden idea of having someone sing on his final project coming out in a huff. Sohee looked from side to side before letting a confused huh? ring through the practice room. Anton only repeated himself in the same rushed manner, followed by him mentioning his final project.

Sohee kept the same confused tone and his hand still gripped his music stand from the exertion of hitting high notes as Anton explained his final project. Sohee didn’t really listen until Anton started flexing his knowledge in music, talking about being flatand breath control, things Sohee knew he had trouble with.

Then, he started listening. He even worked his schedule around ever so slightly to fit their practice and recording sessions into the day. A week later, when the only thing Anton had to show for was song covers, Wonbin came around. He was in the same situation as Anton, up Shit Creek with no paddle and a final project that needed to be finished if he wanted to graduate.

Everything was luck. Anton was lucky that he was able to turn in a completed mini album for his final project. He was lucky that his teacher practically forced him to upload the album to a streaming platform due to how refined it was for a senior project. Anton was extremely lucky that the blossoming indie community attached themselves to his work. He was lucky that he found his album earn a shining review from Pitchfork, and countless streams on his songs every night.

Something that was a stroke of luck fueled by energy drinks and the overwhelming feeling of getting a failing grade on a final project made Anton, Sohee, and Wonbin famous. By the time school ended they were on the list of albums to listen to and in the middle of the sweltering heat of the summer the news broke. Senior Project by Unnamed was ranked as the Top 50 Indie Albums of the Decade.

After that everyone found out about them pretty quickly. Wonbin couldn’t go on MySpace without it crashing. Sohee’s parents called him crying that their son was singing on the radio. Anton’s heart rate hadn’t been a normal BPM since early April.

The pressure to release something and have it be as good as the accident weighed heavy on him. The sole producer of his trio—and the de facto leader—couldn’t make a beat to save his life. The mere thought of sitting down and crafting something left him even more stumped than he was before.

But before Anton could confess to Sohee and Wonbin that he couldn’t deliver the same way he did on Senior Project, he found out they were all in. Sohee dropped out of medical school and Wonbin quit his day job. Wonbin spent his earnings on a new guitar and Sohee spent his on vocal lessons. Anton was considering spending his money on a one-way plane ticket to Hawaii and never looking back. They couldn’t make you produce an album if they didn’t know where you were. He could’ve been sipping Mai Tai’s looking at the Oahu sunset but instead he sat out on the curb of Sohee’s apartment complex with his head in his hands as Wonbin and Sohee tried to understand what was wrong.

Anton for the first time in his life voiced that although he was a prodigy, he had nothing to show for it. The confession came out like vomit, splattering on the concrete and warming underneath the sun. Wonbin looked up to the clouds while Sohee twisted his head away in defeat. Anton felt actual bile raise in his throat as grasshoppers rubbed their legs together in the silence.

Wonbin put a hand to his face to block the sun. Anton heard the muffled shock of Sohee saying he dropped out of med school for this. Then, as if lack of creativity could be cured in a weekend, Wonbin gave his recommendation.

“Let’s buy a van and go sleep in the forest. Completely disconnect with the world and reconnect with nature.”

Wonbin said it so happily, backed with the reasoning that some rock band neither Sohee or Anton had heard of has done it before. Apparently the band went on a societal cleanse and came back to create one of the best albums ever made.

(Years later, Anton listened to the album and hated Every. Single. Song.)

In any other instance Anton would’ve called Wonbin crazy, but the lack of an album and the increasing pressure from everyone wanting a new body of work pushed Anton into reluctantly saying yes. So within the week Anton blew some of his earnings on a van, the three packed their bags and went to camp in the dense forest an hour away from their hometown. Wonbin’s words played again and again in Anton’s mind as he stayed in the passenger seat. He looked for creativity in the tall trees. Anton looked for it all and stayed in the front seat in an effort to see it first.

When the sun no longer gave him light he switched to the flashlight in the glove compartment, keeping it close to his page full of marked out lyrics and mindless ramblings. He couldn’t think of anything else without lingering on each failed attempt. One of the last things that wasn’t crossed out was the tiny print at the bottom of the page. You’re not going to make it stared at him, it caused his flashlight to go out and it made a headache form right in the center of Anton’s head.

He came to the shocking discovery then and there that he was a one hit wonder, that he was lucky to have famous song on that found its way from an obscure streaming site to the biggest social media platform. His unnamed bands overnight success would dwindle within the week, and they would go back to living their regular pedestrian lives.

Anton finally gave up when he made it to the bottom of his page. He let the flashlight take a break in the cupholder between the two front seats and closed his notebook. He opened the glove compartment and slammed it shut a little too hard, not caring a bit when Wonbin groaned from the back of the van. Anton looked back to see Wonbin and Sohee dangerously close to cuddling as they both shared a single blanket on top of the small inflatable mattress.

Anton turned away and rolled the window down by the plastic crank and stuck his head out as if inspiration would be carried into the van by the gentle wind. He balanced his head on his arm that hung out the window and sighed. He thought about the lyrics Wonbin wrote, how his bandmate had no instrumental to put it over. The sinking feeling Anton got at the thought of Sohee and Wonbin waking up tomorrow even more worried about the future of the band suffocated him.

He opened the van door and shut it so hard the van rocked.

Anton tried to find inspiration in the sound of twigs snapping underneath his foot, the absence of sound as the trees blew in the wind. He walked to the side of the van and leaned against it, hoping that something would whisper to him in the dead quiet of the night.

When nothing came and only the moon shined down on him, Anton let out another sigh. He leaned his head back until he felt the large window of the van press his hair flat. He looked directly up to the moon, the only thing that seemed to be awake like him. The stars in the sky were shining bright, or maybe they were normal—Anton couldn’t remember the last time he looked to the night sky. He closed his eyes and fisted his hands so tight he could feel his nails dig into his palm. He pressed his head against the glass even harder, trying to remember the last time in his life he was so desperate for results. He drew in a breath, parted his lips, and screwed his eyes shut.

“Please give me something.” Anton whispered into the night.

When he opened his eyes he started laughing at himself for how ridiculous he sounded. Wishing on planets and stars for inspiration like he was a child. Talking to God like he wasn’t a man of science. He considered waking up Wonbin and Sohee to tell them that this wouldn’t work out. Dissolving the band before it even has a man, carrying on with their lives like they didn’t have the most downloaded EP on iTunes.

Anton looked down at his hands, spreading out his fingers so far he felt the stretch. These hands could play Flight of the Bumblebee with ease and could write a paper on music theory overnight, how could they not produce a song? Anton looked at the callouses on his fingers in the moonlight, twisting and turning the rings on his fingers to feel something. Everything about him was hard to the touch, but he felt so incredibly soft. Like he was about to cry, despite not being blessed with the talent of music.

Anton wiggled his fingers again and felt the urge to curse at them. His eyes drifted to the shadow that was cast underneath him onto the ground.

He was still staring at his fingers when the white light of the moon shifted to a muted green. The change was so sudden Anton blinked first, making sure that his eyes weren’t failing him. When he realized the color being casted on him became hidden by the clouds, he looked up to the sky again. He saw something in the sky, a white cloud trailing behind it. Anton followed its path in the sky, walking around the edge of the van as it came closer and closer to making an impact on the Earth.

Anton’s first reaction was to drop his jaw. Then to pound on the side of the van, as if waking up the only two people on the planet more clueless than him would help. He mindlessly followed, stepping on leaves and twigs and tripping over things as he saw the thing come even closer. Right in front of Anton it crashed into the trees, then straight into the ground. Everything moved around him, he went backwards to hide behind the protection of the van. Underbrush was uprooted from the speed of the wind caused by the impact.

Anton looked bak up to the sky. White moonlight replaced the green. He looked around. The sound of something falling was replaced with the normal sounds of the night. He looked down. The Earth didn’t split down the middle.

“What just happened?” Anton said to himself quietly.

He peaked past the van, looking right where the crater would be. Past the lining of trees, less than a two minute walk away. Anton should get back in his car and drive away. But the fact that something unbelievable needs to happen to him made him stay in the same spot.

Anton debated for a long time on if he should take a step closer. More leaves and twigs snapped underneath his foot as he crossed by the van entirely. His blood went cold and everything in him told him to turn around. He should put the key in the ignition of his car and drive away. But he took another step. Then another. Anton creeped past the tree line walking like a prey animal. He looked back to the stationary white van behind him. There was still a chance to go back, but the something unbelievable was calling to him. Anton took the last step to make it to the edge of the crater before looking in.

His hair stood on end when he looked down into the impact on the earth. The circumference of the crater was the length of two vans put together, but it was deep. So deep that the bottom was almost hidden by the night. Anton had to bend down close to look deeper.

When Anton saw something move in the crater, he was gone. He no longer was looking for something unbelievable to happen to him, inspiration be damned. He cleared out of the forest to make it to the van, opening up the back with an incredible amount of speed. The momentum caused the car to shake, and Anton’s hands were on the shoulders of his bandmates in seconds.

“A girl fell from the sky.” Anton said it quickly, shaking Wonbin’s shoulder harshly.

Wonbin tilted his head to the side as Anton continued to relay what he saw. He blinked his eyes once, twice, then a third time as he tried to comprehend what was being said to him.

“Is that the name of the album?” Wonbin said, groggy voiced as he rubbed one of his eyes.

Anton shook his head angrily before trying to catch his breath.

“Green Comet…” Anton huffed, suddenly realizing his vision was starting to spot. The adrenaline and the confirmed sighting of an extra-terrestrial being made him feel dizzy. “Fell from the sky. She’s in a crater.” He huffed.

When Wonbin moved from the pallet of clothes and blankets, Sohee did the same. His eyes fluttered open but stayed partially closed. His hair was bumped on one side as he also tried making sense of what Anton was saying.

“Are those song titles?” Sohee asked.

His voice was high-pitched and whiny, Anton knew he was angry from the lack of sleep and being woken up in the middle of the night. There were more important things happening. They needed to call the cops, they needed to call the press.

Anton continued shaking his friends awake, but the lack of mentioning a song title, album name, or anything music related made them go back to sleep. Anton watched in dismay as the two laid their heads back down, ignoring and turning away from his hands that were trying to will them awake. The only thing they did was move their shoulders out of his reach, one of them grumbling wake us up when you have a song finished.

Just as Anton was about to climb into the back of the van to shake his bandmates awake, he heard leaves and twigs snap. His full body froze, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and his throat was suddenly dry. The spring night suddenly felt cold as he felt a presence behind him.

When Anton first heard a voice, he didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to acknowledge whoever was speaking to him. He wanted to heave his body into the back of the van and shut the doors behind him. He wanted to speed off back to civilization, at the very least he wanted to scream and wake his bandmates up. But Anton couldn’t do anything, he didn’t move an inch when he felt the presence take another step.

“Where am I?” You repeated

Anton quickly told you that you were in the quiet midwest of America. He said you were on planet Earth, and some other things he forgot now. He was rambling at the mouth, he’s sure he started telling secrets of his own at some point. He’s in a band. He’s a hack. He has no creativity. He’s scared that you’re getting closer. He thinks you’re going to abduct him and probe him and he’s going to be your human prisoner for the rest of his life.

At some point between your first step and your last step, Anton closed his eyes. He prepared for death, his life flashed before his eyes, everything. But then you grabbed his hands. He felt warm all over, his rambling stopped and his fear was replaced with something else. The turbulence in his mind cleared and everything stopped making sound around him. The wind stopped blowing, Wonbin stopped snoring, everything felt peaceful.

Then, when Anton opened his eyes you were gone. All traces of you vanished into the night. Reality came back slowly. Anton clasped his hands hard, then looked down at them again. He was no different. He wasn’t being beamed up into the sky, he wasn’t hurt. He was suddenly alone again outside, the trees and the sounds came back to him like they never left. He could also clearly hear the beginning chord to a song and a name for his band.

Anton heard everything, the longer he stared at his hands the more inspiration struck. He heard it all, he could see it all so clearly. The album name, song titles, album covers, music videos. Anton was up for the rest of the night, filling out pages and pages in his notebook until his hand could no longer hold the pen straight.

Sometimes Anton could still feel the pain in his hand from writing all night. He flexed his hand that gripped the railing, closing his palm in on itself before leaning closer to the banister. He looked behind him to his apartment. The studio door was wide open, and had to audibly sigh to try and relieve some of that burden.

The word had dropped nearly three months ago that a new album was coming. A rumor that wasn’t really a rumor, and once people caught wind of it there was no use in denying it. Their recording company was already reaching out about any possible singles. Wonbin started already reinventing himself. Sohee was sending Anton lyrics everyday in hopes of getting the music faster.

The only way he was able to get a break from everything was to say he needed time to collect and recenter himself. What this meant for his colleagues was to go on a weeklong coke fueled bender. What that meant for Anton was to look at foot traffic in the street below him hoping to see his alien girlfriend-who-is-not-his-girlfriend.

He learned that you would always come when he least expected you to. Washing up on the beach during his vacation to Vietnam. Offering him a wine glass at an industry party. Appearing as room service during his stay at a hotel abroad. He wasn’t sure what summoned you. He was always so used to the feeling of not being inspired that he never knew when he was about to reach a breaking point.

But you always did.

The first time you appeared and he found you in the forest, when he thought he was going to die but he lived and Venusian and the chords for the first EP was in his head.

The second time you appeared was outside of a diner. Anton spent the whole day disconnected from the world, enjoying an AYCE sushi special instead of finishing the vocal mixing on the first single when you appeared across the street. Locked in the phone booth right in Anton’s line of sight the moment he lifted his head from his salmon roll.

He thought he was seeing things at first. By this point in time he had convinced himself that seeing you in the forest was the product of starvation, anxiety, and sleep deprivation. In the morning when he finally got Sohee and Wonbin to come and see where you landed, they said it was only the beginnings of a construction site. So Anton told himself you were just a very real figment of his imagination. But across the street you were very real and you were beckoning for him to come to you.

In the phone booth, Anton finally had a conversation with you. Cramped in after you pulled him inside you two had a formal interaction. To offset how normal the greeting was you told him you were not from this planet. Anton thought he was imagining things again. He shook his head and smiled waiting for the punchline of your joke, and an actual explanation as to why you fell from the sky and asked where you were so honestly.

Anton doesn’t remember speaking very much in the phone booth. His first reaction was to shiver from the feeling of the hairs raising on the back of his neck. His second was to deny you not being from this planet. You talked like a human, you smelled like a human, you looked like a human. Then you said something ridiculous like being human is relative, which ended up being a track name on Venusian’s first full length album She Fell From the Sky.

(Anton could’ve named the album My Girlfriend Fell From the Sky Because She is an Alien and no one would’ve done anything about it. No one second guesses the names or titles indie bands use for their titles, but giving you the title of girlfriend seemed a little presumptuous.)

He found out on your third visit when you knocked on his door in a private studio that you kissed better than any human being ever has. You two kissed better than people could, all of his past experiences and stories he heard paled in comparison. The way you leaned in close, hovering over him while he basically shook in his office chair. You looked so beautiful standing above him, you smiled to ease him into you. You pressed your lips to his so softly and his hands went to your waist, holding onto you. You weren’t able to disappear into thin air. That night you kissed Anton goodbye, he was able to see you leave, and he was able to get you to promise you’d come back.

When you closed the studio door behind you, Anton did what any artist would do. He turned the situation he found himself in to profit. All the confusion and love and lust from an alien he’s met a handful of times, who appears and disappears on her own accord. An alien who always knows where he is and when he needs her. Always smells so good, and looks at him so intensely it literally sparks creativity. Someone who his bandmates thinks is fake. He put all of that—and much more—into the second album. My Girlfriend is an Alien. A little on the nose, but it was green lit nonetheless. The album featured tracks such as i hope you’re real, please meet my friends, imaginary friend, and star/meteor.

On the fourth visit Anton found out you were a fan. He knew because you liked the song come to my apartment next time, and no one liked that song. A dud on the album but something you felt like was just for you. You called him on the phone in his hotel across the world, just when he was about to fall asleep. You talked to him but didn't tell him where you were, it sounded like you were driving or laying in bed and kicking your feet and writing in your journal. Before you could hang up and disappear for an undisclosed amount of time he had questions ready. In his notebook next to lyrics he looks at the chicken scratch in the margins, the hotel phone caught between his shoulder and ear as he made sure to speak clearly into the receiver.

“Will you come when I ask you to?”

“No.”

“Will you come when I need you to?”

“Yes.”

“How will I know when you will be here?”

“You don’t.”

“What’s your favorite song by Venusian?”

That was the question that stumped you. You were silent for a moment, the crackling sound of a connection. Anton looked at the lamp on the bedside table, staring at it until it left an imprint in his vision. He thought the line had disconnected before you spoke.

“The ones you write about me, of course.”

All of them were about you, he couldn't tell you that before you told him that you loved him and had to go. Without a doubt in Anton’s mind, every song was about you. Even when Wonbin wrote the lyrics, they were always about an elusive figure that was appearing in and out of someone’s life. When Sohee wrote lyrics, they were about wanting something. On the rare occasion the song wasn’t about you, the bands name itself was a homage to you. He never asked if you were from Venus because he thought it'd be rude, but he wished on that planet before you came down in a crater his bandmates thought was a construction site.

He couldn’t escape you, but no one even knew you existed. Sometimes Anton didn’t even know you existed. He searched harder in the street. He saw a school teacher finally heading home. Someone with a coffee cup, spilling it on themselves because they were walking too fast. Taxi driver smoking on the corner, letting possible clients pass him to hop in the cars of his competition. A woman walking down the sidewalk, past the smoker and the school teacher and the spill on the person shirt. Her pace got slower and slower until she came to a stop right in front of his building.

Anton looked further down, leaning even closer to the banister. The metal railing pressed into his stomach, going right through his thin shirt as he looked down. Foot traffic continued around her. From the high floor of Anton's apartment his hair started blowing, whipping forward and closing his eyes. The woman in front of Anton's apartment building was unmoving, so was he. If Sohee was here he would've believed it to be the paparazzi, Wonbin would've thought it was a coincidence. But Anton knew before you looked up. The hat and sunglasses you had on obstructed the view of your face, but Anton knew. All you had to do was point towards the front door before Anton was turning on his heel, running through his apartment until he made it to the front door.

Anton cleared his apartment a little too fast to ring you up. He kept his eyes glued to the front camera of the building as you walked up the steps. When the buzzer sounded off you smiled, pulling at the large door before you walked out of frame of the camera.

Anton imagined you coming up the stairs. He swore he could hear you from floors away, your heeled shoes coming through his apartment building as you made your way to him. He could hear the elevator music from his living room, and he could see you looking at the red number climb until you were at his floor. He wasn’t sure how you knew, but you always knew. He stopped asking questions long ago. He was just so happy to see you, a relieved smile coming across his face as he opened his door to you standing there.

“Did you miss me?” You asked.

Anton nodded, pulling you by your arm to get you to come inside. He learned to not waste time when you were here. No more shy greetings or acting amazed when you’d show up. He learned to think about your surprise appearance when he was alone. He helped you take off your hat and shades to put it on the table at the entryway. He guided your jacket off of your arms as you looked up to the high ceilings.

“This place is so big just for one person.” You said quietly.

Anton didn’t know how you lived. He didn’t know where you lived either. Venus was the presumed place, but it could've been the moon. Both were visible when he made his wish that night. He didn’t know if millionaire musicians lived in gigantic lofts by themselves where you came from. He could’ve had roommates. Sohee and Wonbin always wanted to stay with him during the album creation process, to really get involved in the body of work. Venusian tours made Anton encounter his fair share of groupies that wanted him. He could’ve had one of them as a live in girlfriend that uses his money to buy drugs and his fame as an aphrodisiac. But Anton preferred to live alone, even if he had a guest room littered with things he’d think you like in between your visits.

Anton continued guiding your jacket off, then the fleece button up you had on underneath. You always complained about the cold. Anton imagined wherever you came from was always in an eternal spring compared to the frigid weather here. You liked the weather in Puerto Vallarta the most. You came to Anton on a pool floatie saying you could get used to the weather here. You hated it the most in Germany. You emerged from a snow bank when Anton was leaving the convenience store late at night. You were shaking like a leaf then, and Anton gave you his jacket and had to spend the whole night warming you up.

(At first the sentiment was innocent. He offered you all the blankets his room had to offer, and then you said you needed body heat. His huffs of hot air was sticking to your skin, and you were clinging to him for dear life. He repeated how badly he wanted to warm you up as he covered his body with yours, and hushed you over and over again when you were running out of breath. You were both sweating by the time the Sun came up, and then you said you were finally warm enough to go home.)

He knows you probably hate the weather now. But you bite your tongue to stop you from saying how cold it is even when you’re shivering. You just walk fully into Anton’s living room, sitting in the middle of the couch before you tap the spot next to you.

Anton is uninspired. He’s not creative. That’s why you’re here. Offering your magic touch again, his next Grammy nomination and wave of accolades is waiting for him on his large couch.

He follows in your footsteps, discarding his robe on the chair next to the couch. In his plain black tee and sweats Anton gets on the couch, climbing on until he rests his head in your lap. Even with all this space he’s too big. His foot dangles over the edge of the couch, and you let out a soft grunt when he lays his head on you. He doesn’t care because this is enough. When your fingers massage his scalp he closes his eyes, trying to will the stress away.

Anton felt you stir underneath him, and he already felt the stress coming back. He instinctually reached a hand to your arm, trying to keep you there. When he realized you were only repositioning yourself his hand left your wrist, going to his chest. He rubbed the fabric of his shirt and hummed the beginning of a song.

He looked forward as your hands carded through his hair, flattening out the bits that were sticking up.

“Where were you this time?” Anton asked.

“Your kind haven't discovered it yet. But I came back pretty fast this time, didn't I?” You asked.

Anton nods his head against your fingers because you did come back faster this time. When Venusian was just beginning you used to appear every week, when the band was at its peak the longest Anton was left waiting for you was two years. Before you showed up at his apartment today you called him over the phone a month and a half ago. Your voice crackled through the speakers and you sounded like you were somewhere far away. Anton almost asked you if there was reception on Venus, but instead he decided to put it in a song. Not knowing the answer made him look for it himself, and that’s how he came up with the idea of the first single for Venusian’s upcoming album.

Anton remembers the last conversation you guys had over the phone. He asked you if you were real for the hundredth time and you laughed before saying yes. He asked if you’re real why can’t he reach out and touch you and you said he would just have to save it for next time. So Anton opens his eyes and reaches up with one hand, until he can feel your cheek underneath his fingers. His other hand wraps around your hand in his hair, and he keeps eye contact with you while you look down at him. It’s really not fair that you get to come and go as you please. You should stay here with him, be his live-in alien girlfriend who helps him write music. You wouldn’t even have to do housework, he’d hire someone to do that. He can get whatever people eat on Venus shipped right to his doorstep just for you.

Anton holds you tighter, there’s silence and you moving your legs underneath his head again. From this spot on your lap all Anton can focus on is you. You two are floating in space together, holding eachother’s hands. Anton thinks about a spaceship and then Star Trek, and then the parts of you that he couldn’t touch over the phone. He was telling you about it long after the phone call suddenly disconnected until he was shaking and his body was covered in sweat.

“How’s the music thing going?” You asked.

The question was asked just to fill the silence, because you wouldn’t be here if Anton wasn’t struggling with the music thing. If Anton could finish the mixing on this song you’d still be floating around space somewhere and Venusian’s latest album would’ve already hit streaming platforms.

Anton sits up from your lap and your hands combing through his hair. Even though he lets go of your hands he still feels them close, and when he turns around to face you on the couch you have them pressed in the space between your two bodies. You look like you want to reach out and touch him. Anton feels your pull, he sees your eyes focus on him after running down his body. He put his hands on your shoulders then your face, forcing you to look at him and only him.

“It’s going well.” He couldn’t believe that your face was already becoming hot to the touch. Anton watched you become so bothered you didn’t correct his lie, only nodding against his hand. “Did you hear the new single?” He asked.

Anton watched your hands finally leave the edge of the couch to go to his thighs. Nothing about you was alien. He knew you well, he knew your hands would go underneath his shirt to touch his soft stomach. Anton knew you’d look down first then to him as you let your head rest in the palm of his hand.

“It was pretty. Felt like you were singing to me.”

“Well,” Anton trained himself to never answer the question directly when he’d be asked who his muse was. Wonbin always said he sang about love he never found and Sohee said he was singing about an idea. “who else would I be singing to?” Anton

“Thought maybe you went out and got yourself a girlfriend.” You say.

Anton smiled to hearing that. Like he wasn’t waiting everyday for you to materialize. He could never waste his time dating when he spent all of it waiting for you and making music. He only shook his head, bringing you closer by the hold on your face.

“I was thinking about you the whole time.”

“Oh yeah?” Your hand left his hair after pulling it one last time. Anton looks up at you sideways as you tilt your head. “I was thinking about you too."

He knows he's being dramatic, because just the thought of you somewhere thinking of your human boyfriend makes him smile. He already thinks of a bonus track for the album think about me will be the title, and he will get Wonbin to write something beautiful about a couple in love. He'll pair it with a beat that's light and sounds like someone's dreams, then end it with the sound of a phone disconnecting. He might even pair it with a music video.

"What were you thinking about when you were thinking about me?" You ask.

Anton has done this dance with you plenty of times. He knows that you’re here to breathe creativity into him, like the fate of his world depends on it. Fuck or die, fuck or never make another song again—it’s the same thing in Anton’s mind. But he still falls victim to your ability to raise the tension, like it was the first time all over again. Back then he was all nerves, thinking about music and how you were his sign from the universe that everything would be alright. He spent more time on his knees than he ever did in his life, he was drained but you kept wanting more. Sometimes Anton can remember the exhaustion vividly, and he also remembers when he woke up the next morning he knew exactly what he was going to do for that collaboration with his favorite artist.

You’re here now, countless save-his-career fucks later and still looking at him like you haven’t gotten enough. He sits up from your lap and turns to face you.

“I was thinking about the last time I saw you,” Anton’s hands start moving to the side of your face then down to your waist. You’re already moving to straddle him. “and you did that think I really like.” He continues.

Anton watches you look down at him and he wonders what’s going on in your head. He remembers last time you were here and you said sincerely he should get a girlfriend. He asked if you had a boyfriend on Venus but recanted his question immediately, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle the answer. He has been making happy music as of late and didn’t want to change that.

Now you looked at him like he was delicate, your little human boy toy you entertained between periods of floating around space.

“I was thinking I just need you so I can get inspiration for this song.” He didn’t mind if he was nothing but an intergalactic booty call. Sometimes it felt like you did things for his benefit, like showing up at to him when he needed you the most. Your hands went to his face and he felt his heart stop. He swears he doesn’t mind.

“How many times do I have to tell you Anton, it’s all you?” You started letting your hips rest heavy on his lap, and he could feel how warm you were all around him. You can say all you want that your fingertips don’t have magical powers, but he has already found a chord for the lyrics Sohee sent him the other day. “You’re talented, just stressed and—” He presses your hips deeper into his, until you feel him twitching in his pants. “You’re already hard?”

Anton is helpless against you. You’re extra-terrestrial, that has already been established, but there’s something more. The planet Venus must have blessed you with powers. Anton's hand goes to the back of your neck and brings you closer.

“I just need a little bit more.” Anton murmurs against your lips.

Before you can speak Anton brings his other hand to reach into your pants, pushing his hand in your panties. Instantly you arched from the touch, when he applied pressure you swiveled your hips. He’s been here before, he’s been here a million times. An intergalactic booty call on his Italian leather sofa. You're already doing the thing he likes, where you whimper and push your tongue into his mouth. The simple action makes him already falter, becoming your puppet so easily.

Anton doesn’t know what you have in store for him. After discovering he was already hard the look in your eye changed, and your idea of comforting his feelings of inadequacy shifted to something different.

He’s been holed up in this apartment for more than a week, and he hadn’t made a new friend in God knows how long. Anton forgot how to interact with people beyond his bandmates, and he felt ill-equipped to keep the conversation going with an alien. You’re here, getting off of his lap until his hands follow after you and you’re standing in front of him. When the coffee table is too close to you Anton wastes no time pushing it away with his foot, giving you enough space in front of him. You don’t say anything about it, instead bringing your hands to the bottom of your shirt and lifting it over your head.

Your shirt is balled in your hands then it’s obstructing Anton’s vision. He pulls it into his lap too quick to see you messing with the waistband of your jeans, shimmying out of it before pushing it down your legs. You came all the way from Venus in a matching set, all for him. He’s lied by saying he just needs a little more. Whatever happens each time you leave has only made him worse, and only makes him crave more. Each time you leave he’s left with a sense of this being the last time.

When you come back to him in your bra and panties he’s too rash. Instead of guiding you to his lap Anton gets on his back. He doesn’t tell you what he needs when you try to adjust to the sudden change. When you still try to go to his lap Anton’s hand on your wrist stops you. You look at Anton and it takes both of you too many dragging seconds to see what Anton is silent hinting at. He’s missed your touch, your voice, and your taste. When you realize it your eyebrows are raised nearly to your hairline, and he’s still guiding your body towards his face.

From that point everything happened pretty fast. You asked Anton a million times if he was sure and said yes without fail. When you finally situated yourself with your knees on either side of his head, he knew this was what he needed. The skewed perspective of you down here, his hands on your thighs trying to guide you down. Feeling you cage him in and you taking up all his senses was what he needed. But you were still unsure, even with Anton’s eyes honing in on the pretty pattern of the panties he was determined to eat through you hesitated above him.

“You’ll stop me if you can’t breathe right?” You fought against his hands trying to bring you down. Every breath he took fanned your heat, he could already see the fabric forming to you. “I really couldn’t deal with the guilt if I killed you.” You said.

Anton thought this would be an amazing way to die. Suffocating between thighs and drowning in you. Could aliens be persecuted on Earth? Would you just go back to Venus and never come back?

“Anton.” He looked from your heat back up to you. You tried leaning back to see more of his face but his hold on you kept you in place. “Are you listening to me?” You asked.

“Yes. I’m listening.” He almost went crosseyed focusing back on your center. One of your hands went to grip the armrest past Anton’s head, preemptively giving yourself something to stabilize your body with. He dragged his words out, purposefully letting his breath fan your clammy skin. You were twitching for him already. He pulled you down again. “I’ll tell you, I promise.”

He was grateful his plea was what made you give in. One more tug at your thighs and you were lowering yourself on his mouth, and Anton was sticking out his tongue to lave your panties that covered your clit. He felt you hovering your weight above his head, scared to give him all of it, then he pushed your panties to the side. Almost immediately Anton felt more of your weight and your thighs close around his head. He felt your body lean forwards and he heard your exasperated breath, then a whimper that told him you were getting used to this. He lifted you only a second to drop you directly on his tongue, and he started sucking and licking whatever he could touch.

Your thighs were shaking around his head, and Anton was becoming increasingly aware of his own body. His dick was twitching in his pants, with each jump or sound you made he was beginning to feel the tension rising along his entire body. He needed more. He was almost there, he almost had the chord or the arrangement. Revelation was on the tip of his tongue. Anton's fingers kept your underwear pushed to the side, he could feel the wet cotton sticking to the side of his face. He hummed again, and you pitched forward to grab the armrest of his couch for stability.

"Do you want me to touch you?" You asked the question quickly. You two made eye contact, his words of just needed you to get off was trapped between your legs. Even if you heard him he knew it'd be lost on him. You were too giving, and he revealed that one of his favorite things in this life was when you'd touch him.

You push yourself from the armrest of the couch and reach behind you, instantly pressing into the bulge. He's so strung up stimulation feels like pain, he's ready to pop at any moment. He hasn't been touched since he saw you last, and he couldn't think of doing anything for himself when you weren't here. Part of being from a different world must mean that your touch goes right through fabric. When your hand cups over his pants it's like you're gripping him in your own hands.

Whatever it is you're doing to him is too juvenile for him to cum first. It almost becomes a competition, he becomes greedy. He tongues you until he pushes past the ring of muscle, sucking on whatever his lips touch. Anton pushed on your ass until it pushed you forward, where his nose bumped your clit. His other hand wrapped around the top of your thigh and pushed you back. He repeated the motion, sucking harder each time your body hitched from you bumping into his nose. When he stopped guiding you Anton was grateful you abandoned more of your inhibitions to repeat the motions on your own. He was grateful that his pleasure became an after thought. You abandoned his dick completely to lean forward again, to press your hand to your lower stomach to really focus grinding on his face. Anton could feel you over his body, but your slick coated his chin. You You were making a mess on his lips too, moaning louder than the sounds he was making between your legs.

Anton was too busy watching the way your stomach tensed and relaxed each time you ground your hips on his face that he was getting lost. Between notes and songwriting and everything else he was grinding against nothing, his legs draped over the other end of the couch and his body tensed up. You were becoming rigid above him too, your hand in his hair pulled roughly as your body came increasingly heavy on his lips. Anton still drove you forward, until your clit bumped his nose over and over again. You shifted on top of him to fully ride his face, bucking on him over and over.

"Close." You whimpered. Anton felt your hand grip his hair, keeping him in place. He was getting smothered by you, your thighs came close to his face and kept him caged in. "Close, Ton. You're always so good for me."

Anton nodded and continued the motion. He guided you easily, through your body shaking above him. He still continued to suck, until your thighs shook around his head. When you looked down at him Anton kept going, even when you tried lifting your body again he kept you there. He was so close, he just needed a little more. His hands on your waist was rough, he could see your skin dimpling underneath his fingers. He vocalized how he needed you to hold on, but it was hard to break through your noises and how your body was muffling him.

When you finally froze above him, Anton could taste all of you. He continued sucking even when you pulled even harder at his hair. You had to shake your head and cry out to finally get him to stop. You melted above him, it was Anton who had to lift you off of his face. He watched you stagger on your knees forward, he tiled his head to follow your movements until you were leaning against the edge of the couch.

Both of you had to catch your breath. Anton sat up fully to see you mold into the couch, your chest raising and lowering. He was a little bit more composed, save for the way his hair stuck to his forehead and his entire face glistening with you and sweat.

"Did that help with your writers block?"

Suddenly, everything hits Anton at once. He stands up from the couch, still painfully hard and face flushed, leaving you in your seat. Anton peaks past the doorway of his bedroom to stare directly at you.

"Don't leave." He says quickly before disappearing past the doorframe.

Anton woke up from the sun coming through his window. He forgot to draw the blinds last night, leaving him blinking and already fighting through a headache. He blinked to try and adjust to the light, moving from his side to the other. His door was open. He remembered closing it last night. He also remembered you being on the bed next to him, but he went to sleep knowing you wouldn’t be here in the morning. Still while he faced the open door his other hand mindlessly ran over the spot you were laying last night. He still felt a crater in the sheets where you laid and he swore you left your perfume there too. When he took a deep breath in he could smell you, and he could still taste you too.

When he looked past the open door he could see the mess you two left in the living room. There was a moment you two were having a heart to heart and the next you were pushing things off the coffee table. His expensive glass fruit bowl was surely chipped if not broken, and he had his throw pillows and blankets laying on the floor. He was still waking up when the buzzing sound from across the bed pulled his attention back to his room. Anton had to crawl over your side of his bed to his nightstand, unplugging his phone and mindlessly unlocking it.

He meandered on the homescreen, blinking constantly as he tried to jumpstart his mind. He even looked away from his phone completely for a moment, focusing on the quiet of his room as he let his thoughts come back to him. He remembered what he was doing the moment his eyes landed on his home studio. He looked at the turn tables and his computer screen that was still awake. He still had the file he was working on open. Anton recalled the song as he clicked on Wonbin’s phone number in his call log.

Anton brought his phone to his face and listened to it ring. He went back down to laying on his bed, one side pressed into the mattress as he kept his phone balanced on the other side. Anton even let his eyes close again as the phone continued to ring. He let out a yawn, fully expecting to catch Wonbin’s voicemail instead of catching him.

“I was calling you last night.” Wonbin says.

Anton still keeps his eyes closed as he hums an acknowledgment into the transmission. Wonbin doesn’t continue to pry even at the clear sign of disrespect, both of them already know what Anton is about to say.

“I have a new song.” Anton could practically hear Wonbin on the other end of the line sigh in relief. Anton imagined Sohee was there with him, the two crowded around the receiver of the phone trying to see who can hear the good news first. He imagines the two of them hitting eachother in excitement at the thought of releasing something new. Anton opens his eyes to look at his computer screen again. He finally feels the embarrassment as he recalls the inspiration he got for the song. He clears his throat, trying to will the memories away. “Come by and I can play it for you guys.” He says.

Anton didn’t have time to clean up his place before the two of them arrived. It seemed as though Wonbin and Sohee were waiting on his call. Within ten minutes he already got the text from Wonbin that they were outside. Anton only had five minutes to light an incense and try to desperately clean up the mess you two made the night prior. He ended up stuffing somethings into his closet, there were still shards of glass on the floor when the two were knocking on his door.

When Anton opened his door the two barely spared a greeting, instead making a beeline past Anton’s mess of a common area to his bedroom. He saw Wonbin’s attention scatter across his terribly cleaned mess, speaking over his shoulder as Anton closed the distance between them.

“Your place usually isn’t this much of a mess, Anton.” Wonbin says casually.

Anton watches Wonbin’s attention stay on the jostled throw pillows and blanket on his couch. Anton’s face heats up when he remembers the night before. After you rode his face, the rest of the night was a blur. What you two did after that came in snatches. When Anton followed Wonbin’s gaze around his apartment he remembered it. Your hand planted on the back of the couch and the other clutching at the armrest as he fucked you from behind. He remembered the feeling of your sweaty shoulder clasped in his palm as he kept you driving backwards and the way you looked back at what he was doing to you.

“This usually happens to artists when they work on a project.” Sohee says matter-of-factly.

Wonbin stops walking and looks at the back of Sohee’s head. Anton stops behind Wonbin and Sohee stops right before he walks past the threshold of Anton’s door.

Anton feels like at any moment their attention will go to the mess and ask why it looks like a tornado ripped through his apartment. Anton almost feels relief that the two decided to bother eachother instead.

Anton watches Sohee give Wonbin his snooty know-it-all look, the one that always drives Wonbin crazy. Instead of responding, Wonbin only drives his finger into Sohee’s side. Sohee instinctually reaches forward to return the favor, causing Wonbin to back up on reflex before reaching forward to try and prod his side again. Anton watches the two of them try and fight.

They don’t stop until Anton clears his throat and points towards his room. Almost immediately Sohee and Wonbin come to their senses to walk towards Anton’s room. Wonbin pokes Sohee’s side one more time as a joke, causing all three of them to laugh.

When Sohee goes into Anton’s room, he heads to the bed first. Anton tries to be calm seeing Sohee sit in the same spot on the edge of the bed you occupied not even twelve hours ago. Sohee unknowingly sets his backpack next to him, right on top of the pile where your discarded clothes rested before. Anton had to push past Wonbin, remaining neutral as he prepped the song to be played.

Anton trailed behind the two of them, and had to remain neutral at the sight of Wonbin doing a once over of the ground. Anton panicked and did the same, praying that he picked up all evidence of the night he had. When Wonbin’s eyes lingered on a crumbled shirt that looked a size to small, Anton cleared his thought. When his face went hot again he focused back on the computer, letting the sound of Sohee moving on his unmade bed fill the silence.

“When’d you finish this?” Sohee asked.

Anton looked back briefly. He saw Sohee playfully kick his feet that dangled over the edge of Anton’s bed as he leaned back onto the mattress. Anton forced himself to focus on clicking through the files on his desktop not looking back again.

“Uhm. Last night.” Anton mumbled.

He felt bad for his non-assuming friend, how he had no idea he sat in the same spot where you were pathetically drooling onto his mattress the night before. The thought made Anton the complete opposite of how he was in that moment, he could only shyly nod his head when Sohee made a sound of acknowledgment.

Wonbin moved to the same spot beside the bed where Anton got down on his knees and draped your legs over his shoulders.

“Let’s hear it.” He said.

Anton pressed play and adjusted the volume, letting the beginning play. As the instrumental picked up Anton sheepishly described the type of song he had in mind for the beat. He prayed Sohee and Wonbin didn’t pick up on the deep bass immediately. He tried desperately to beat around the bush to such an extent that Sohee and Wonbin would come up with their own interpretation.

“It’s on the slower side, but I think we could have really hard hitting lyrics here.” Anton said while making an encompassing motion with his hands.

Anton was grateful that his bandmates didn’t notice the flustered tone or his nervous habit of speaking with his hands. Sohee was thinking about the vocal color he needed for this song and Anton could already see Wonbin crafting the lyrics in his head. The true inspiration of the song seemed to go over their heads for a moment—Anton started easing as they nodded along approvingly to the beat.

He believed he was in the clear, but when the chorus of the song came around and the sound of a bed creaking played through the speakers of Anton’s computer his bandmates froze. Anton saw Sohee and Wonbin exchange a side eye. Sohee’s legs that dangled over the edge of Anton’s bed stopped kicking suddenly and his head tilted to the side. Wonbin’s mouth dropped and he pulled his hand away from his face.

Both of them were pulled from their reverie, looking up from the ground to look Anton dead in the eye.

“What type of song is this?” Wonbin asked.

Anton watched Sohee slowly turn around to take in Anton’s unmade bed. He could practically saw the lightbulb go off above his bandmates head as he watched Sohee look over the jostled covers and the folded pillow still laying in the center of the bed. Sohee slowly lifted his hands from the mattress and sat upright and turned back to Anton just as slow.

“No way.” Sohee says in disbelief.

At Anton’s reddening face and Sohee’s agape mouth Wonbin did a once over again. When the lightbulb went off over his head he begins laughing so hard he has to bend over and hold his chest.

“Unbelievable.” Wonbin wipes the tears from his face. “Unbelievable.”

#seriez: rock the house #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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satorusugurugurl · 11 months ago

Note

Hi, I saw your post about jjk characters with a reader who has ed but could you do something similar but with an ed type like "I don't deserve to eat" because honestly I'm closer to that than worrying about my appearance. Well, you know when you were brought up that food, especially sweets, was a reward, and when you did something wrong, you were forbidden to eat. I would be very grateful. Thank you in advance

I Don’t Deserve It

Summary: How will JJK men react to you not eating because of your past?

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,412

Warnings: E.D, childhood trauma, PTSD, self-loathing, language, fluff, the boys being sweet

A/N: Hi there, Nonnie. Thanks for the request! I did my best with this one. I hope you enjoy it! 💚💚💚

Gojo Satoru:

It was hot, too damn hot to be outside. You whined, shielding your eyes from the sun above, and you limped behind your students and boyfriend, Gojo Satoru. You had gotten yourself into a little bit of a pickle on your mission. You quickly took out the grade two curse you were sent to exorcise. You, however, fell down the flight of stairs in the old Hospital and needed to call them for assistance.

Falling down the stairs was so utterly embarrassing. A sorcerer of yours should be more graceful and more tentative and careful. If your mother had been around, she would’ve reprimanded you, claiming you were nothing but a failure. That you needed to be severely reprimanded for your error. Your mother had been such a bitch. Even though you weren’t in contact with her anymore, her lessons still stuck with you to this day.

“Gojo! Gojo! Let’s get some ice cream!” Itadori and Kugisaki pointed frantically at the convenience store you were passing.

“Ah, yeah, ice cream sounds delicious right now! Yuuji, come on, let’s grab some! Megumi and Nobara, you're on drink detail!” your blindfolded boyfriend turned his head towards you, staring for a long moment before facing the shop. “You just stay here, babe.”

Embarrassment twisted your guts like they were knots on a boat. Of course, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age would be embarrassed by such a simple mistake you had made. If you made such a simple error as falling down the stairs on an easy mission, why would he want you to help get drinks and ice cream for the kids? Your bottom lip quivered as you shook your head, sitting on a bench outside the shop.

While your students and boyfriend headed into the shop, you could feel the heat plummeting down on you. On hot summer days like this, when you had made an error in your training or forgot to do something in the house, your mother would always make you sit outside. Other family members snacked on ice cream and drinks, while your mother always denied you the right to lovely cold iced tea or an ice cream cone.

“You failed me today; you do not deserve a treat. Sweets, like these, are earned, not given.”

Her words still rang in your ears as sweat slid down the back of your neck. It would be a long walk back to the school without anything to keep you cool. You needed to be more careful on your missions, especially now that it was summertime. It was bad enough you fell down a flight of stairs. You couldn’t imagine how you would be lectured for fainting in the heat.

“Mmm!” Yuuji hummed happily, licking his ice cream as a sliding door to the convenience store dinging the four returned. Megumi held a bag as Nobara chugged down some of her green tea. “This is great! Thanks Gojo!”

“Yeah, thanks.” Megumi nodded his head as he sipped on a bottle of water.

“It's too damn hot out here! We should go to the beach! Oooh, or a water park; maybe an agency will approach me!” You couldn’t help but smile as the trio of students talked amongst themselves and made plans to beat the summer heat. Your mindless star was cut short as an icy cold bag pressed firmly against your hot cheek.

You jumped, startled by the sudden cold against your face. Pulling back, you glanced up at your boyfriend, whose dimple deepened as he grinned. “Easy there, it’s just me, you’re loving boyfriend, with an ice cream for you.” Something in your chest swelled as you glanced at the ice cream he handed you, still wrapped in plastic.

“Huh?”

“Uh, ice cream? For my girlfriend, here.”

He waved the treat in front of your face, emphasizing his point. When you said nothing, he waved it again, tilting his head in confusion as to why you were so hesitant about taking it. There was a look in your eyes as you just stared at the sweet treat that had him tilting his head to the other side, pursing his lips together.

He sighed, flopping down on the seat next to you, his long legs stretched out. He was ripping the plastic and holding the unwrapped ice cream towards you. “Here you go, babe.” Your fingers inched closer toward the waffle cone before you promptly pulled them back.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you get me this?”

Gojo pulled his blindfold up; eyebrows scrunched together as his mouth was agape in confusion. “Because it's a bajillion degree outside? Because I bought the students ice cream and one. Why wouldn’t I get my girlfriend one too?” Gojo seemed insulted that you would ask such a naïve question.

“N-No, I get that, but I didn’t do anything to deserve it. You had to rescue me today. And now you’re giving me a prize for nothing?”

“Who in their right mind told you that?!”

With flushed cheeks, you glance down at the ground. “Uhm, well—my mother always told me that sweets were a reward. I never used to get them as a kid. Hell, even meals sometimes were considered a reward after training.” A sudden spike of nausea rose in your throat at the unpleasant memories of your childhood.

Gojo remained silent momentarily, taking your words as meaningful instructions for an important project. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed you by your chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it so your eyes met his. His usual charismatic, carefree charm was void, as were his gorgeous eyes. Instead, you were met with nothing but worry. Seeing him look at you like that caught you off guard as he leaned in, gently pressing a kiss against your lips.

Your eyes went wide, darting towards the trio who didn’t pay you any mind. The kiss wasn’t heated or full of desire like it usually was. It was nothing but genuine, passionate love. You kissed him back, slowly closing your eyes as your arms wrapped around his neck. Gojo pulled back, grabbing your chin, tapping the ice cream against your bottom lip, grinning wide.

“Your mother was a mythic bitch. God, I would love to beat her ass for torturing you as a child.” he sighed before turning to watch you take the ice cream, unwrapping it. “You don't have to do anything to deserve a treat. If you want one, have one, especially after a rough mission. I always get myself a treat after a mission! It's like a little reward.” His large hand stroked your hair as you happily licked the ice cream. “We gotta work on fixing that mentality.”

Your shoulders feel light as the ice cream begins to cool you down. “Right, I think this,” you motion towards the ice cream in your hand, “is a great start.” Gojo barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh baby, this is just convenience store ice cream. Wait until I take you to my absolute favorite shop downtown!”

On the way back to school, the five of you laughed as you ate your ice cream. Gojo sucked on his

while he carried you on his back. You were lucky to have a man who would tell you when you were inevitably wrong, and you were worse so much more than you thought.

Geto Suguru:

You stood in the kitchen, watching the girls running around playing, which was a good thing seeing that you had screwed up and forgotten to pick them up after school. The morning had been hectic, from filling out paperwork to doing housework, and it has just managed to slip away from you.

You were cutting vegetables for dinner when the school called. At first, you were confused, but the second you glanced at the clock, your stomach fell into your ass. You ran all the way to the school, finding the girls eagerly waving at you from the steps where their teacher glowered down at you.

“Sorry! I lost track of time, sweet peas!”

“That’s okay!” Nanako said as she held onto her sister’s hand. “We figured you were held up and knew either you or Geto would show up!”

“Mhmm!” Mimiko agreed as they tread down the steps together.

You ruffled their hands as they passed you before turning to their teacher. “I’m sorry time got the better of me. Thank you for waiting with them.” typically, people would say it wasn’t a problem, but this teacher shot daggers out at you as she stepped down to face you head-on.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Her words weighed you down as you stared at her in confusion and shock. “You call yourself a mother or a guardian? Your generation is so lazy and self-entitled, caring about no one but yourselves.”

“Excuse me; you're wro—”

“Lazy, ungrateful people like you don’t deserve the happiness they were blessed with.” She shoved past you, heading down the sidewalk. “You don’t deserve it.”

The elderly teacher was an insane coldhearted bitch. Shit happens, like losing track of time. She could fuck off all you cared. Both you and Subaru worked hard to make the girls feel loved. She didn’t know what she was talking about. So you brushed off her cruel words to the side, holding both girls’ hands as you walked home together.

Ignoring the teacher was easy, but her words triggered unpleasant memories for you. It was her and the guilt in your stomach for losing track of time that triggered flashbacks to play in your mind. Your father told you you did nothing and deserve your mother because you didn’t prepare it when you had been training all day. You never got to enjoy a warm meal with your family on days like that.

Moments and bad habits like that tended to stick around like a scar. Even when you were an adult, you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, but the interaction with the teacher and memories from your childhood had you sinking in on yourself—the little girl who watched her family eat without her.

The door opened, and Suguru grinned as the girls ran at him, throwing their arms around his legs and giggling as he walked into the kitchen. His eyes were warm down the top of their heads. You smiled at him before looking away, your stomach growling.

“Welcome home, Geto!”

“Thanks, girls.” he placed a big watermelon on the kitchen counter, drawing that girl's attention along with your own. “Look what Yaga gave me. It’s nice and cold. Perfect for dessert tonight.”

Your mouth watered as Nanamo and Mimiko chanted excitedly, watching Suguru wash his hands before cutting into the melon with a knife. Your fingers slowly inched forward, but you pulled away, focusing on your phone instead. If your father were here, he would remind you that you didn’t deserve to eat with your family. Because you had forgotten to pick up the girls today

“You girls ate all of your dinner, right?” Your boyfriend asked as he grabbed two slices of the sweet red melon, holding them out in front of the girls.

“Yes, Geto!”

“We ate everything!”

“Good, here you go.” They took the slices eagerly, munching on the bright red fruit. While they happily ate, Geto turned his attention toward you. He pushed some of his dark bangs out of his vision. “And you, Princess? Did you eat all of your dinner?”

“No.”

Your boyfriend blinked, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Why not?” His voice lowered as he grabbed a slice of the melon.

“I don’t deserve to eat.” Those five words wait a ton, causing your boyfriend’s face to contort with concern.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I screwed up and forgot to pick up the girls today. Their teacher made sure to let me know. I didn’t deserve to be as blessed as I am.”

Suguru scoffed, narrowing his gaze as he grabbed your face in one hand, squeezing it so your lips were puckered. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You work your ass off every day to take care of our blessings. There’s no reason why you don’t deserve to eat.”

“My father would disagree with you on that.”

“Well,” your boyfriend squeezes your cheeks gently. “If I ever meet your father, I’m going to feed him to my curses because he doesn’t deserve to breathe for making you feel like that.”

“Sugu—mm!”

The tip of the watermelon slice is promptly shoved into your mouth. “I don’t want to hear you argue because, for once, you’re wrong.” You felt like all the worry on your shoulders and the grip your father had on you began to fade away. “Now be a good girl and chew.”

You take a bite, the sweet juices flooding your mouth. You moan at the taste, swallowing before taking another bite. Seeing the smile on your face, your boyfriend grinned back as he gently continued to hold the watermelon for you.

“Hey, Ma didn't eat her dinner!” Nanako chimed in as both she and Mimiko happily continued to eat their slices

“Oh, I know we’re just doing things out of order tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun. Can we do that tomorrow night?!” The girls ask in unison before you and Suguru, smiling before saying yes. Sometimes, life was messy, but you just had to go with the flow and take one moment at a time, even if that meant doing things out of order.

Nanami Kento:

“My love,” you glanced up from your book as Nanami stepped inside the apartment, removing his glasses. “I’m home.”

Your book is thrown across the couch as you leap your feet, rushing to throw your arms around your husband. “Welcome home, Kento!” His hand gently grabs the back of your head as you kiss him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He presses another longing, soft kiss against your lips. “I’m starving. I can’t wait to unwind with a nice warm meal with you.”

You pull away, and Nanami watches your face pale. You yank yourself away from his arms, your hand covering up to cover your mouth as you mentally start cursing yourself out. Being a housewife meant you got to take care of the house, shop for groceries, and prepare dinner for your husband without worrying about working as an assistant supervisor. Today, you cleaned the house, shopped for groceries, and did laundry but failed to do the most important thing.

Make dinner for your beloved husband, who worked all day.

“Oh my God, fuck me!” You rushed to the kitchen, throwing the fridge open and trying to figure out what you could make. “I’m so sorry, Ken.”

“Love, it’s al—”

“No, no, I’m so sorry. I’ll make something for you, or I could pick something up.”

“Honey—”

“I’m sorry.” In this state, you weren’t sure if you could cook anything with your shaking hands. “I’ll order you something. Please go take a bath and relax; I got this!”

Your husband frowned but didn’t argue with you. He just stared for a long moment before heading into your room to change, leaving you a shaking mess as you ordered him a sandwich and soup from the bakery down the street, not adding anything for yourself. With the food ordered, you paced the kitchen, biting down on your thumbnail with a sigh; terrible memories from your childhood and your weeping mother flashed.

When you were little, your mother was a stay-at-home mom while your father was on missions. Both your parents loved each other and rarely fought, but your father’s mother was a terrible human being. Whenever your mother was overwhelmed and wasn’t able to cook dinner, your grandmother would yell and scream at her, telling her she was a terrible wife and homemaker. On days like that, your mother would weakly smile before preparing something quick for everyone to enjoy.

Your mother would never join in, even when the hot meal was prepared or purchased. Your grandmother chastised her for even considering joining them for a meal she had forgotten to make. Your mother would stay in the kitchen until everyone else had eaten before she might consider eating for herself. Which rarely happened in fear of how your grandmother would react.

You never thought you would find yourself in her shoes one day. On top of that, you had done hardly anything compared to the miracles your mother made. She raised children, kept up with the house, cleaned, and ensured everything was in order. You and Nanami were just two people to care for in a small, comfortable home. Compared to your mother, who took care of your entire clan, you were pathetic.

If your grandmother were still around, she would lecture you like she had your mother countless times before.

You had failed as a housewife, and that fact had your stomach churning with nausea as you carried the plate of delivered food to Nanami, who had just walked out of the bedroom, freshly showered and changed. You handed him the plate, keeping your eyes glued to the floor with a frown. Your gaze was suddenly lifted as Nanami took the plate with one hand and grabbed your chin with the other, forcing you to look at his face.

“I’m sorry, Kento.”

“Please don’t apologize for something so minuscule; it’s fine.”

“You worked all day while I stayed at home. It should’ve been done.”

You sat at the table, staring at the placement before you, and your husband began eating in silence, his eyes glancing towards the table, finding nothing on a plate for you. A blonde brow cocked as he swallowed the bite in his mouth.

“Love, where’s your food?” You frown, dropping your head lower. “Darling?”

“I don’t deserve to eat with you. I’ll eat tomorrow morning.”

You listen as the chair across from you slides against the wooden floor. There are a few footsteps before the chair beside you pulls out, and Nanami’s body wash invades your senses. Your eyes clamp shut, but you hear rustling instead of a stern lecture. Opening one eye, you find half his sandwich on the placemat before you.

“Kento, what are you—!”

“I want to share my food because despite your thinking you did nothing today, just because you were at home is not the case.” He takes another bite, the bread crunching deliciously, making your stomach growl loud. “You cleaned the house and reorganized our bathroom.” He took another bite. “Then you dusted the office, shopped for groceries, and on top of all of that, you did our laundry.”

Your husband was one of the most considerate men in the entire world. He took notice of the little things you did and always made sure you knew how much he appreciated you. So, not being angry that there was no dinner waiting for him at home had your heart skipping a beat.

“Kent—”

“Nuh-uh, unless the next words out of your mouth revolve around the sandwich, and it's good to save it; I don’t want an apology. I don’t want to hear how you didn’t do a good job. Because that’s not right, take such wonderful care of our home. I love you more than anything in this world.”

You pick the other half of the sandwich up, smiling at him. “Thank you, Kento.” You take a bite, the bread crunching as you do. You hum happily at the delightful taste that swarms your taste buds. “Mhmm!” Kento grins, leaning over and pressing the softest kiss against your temple.

“I love you; thank you for taking such good care of the house.”

“I love you too, Kento; thank you for all your hard work!” Your smile is as bright as the sun as you hold up half of the sandwich. “And thanks for sharing!”

Nanami gently taps the half of his sandwich against yours as if clinking glasses together. “You’re welcome, my love.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

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sugurusfavemonkey · 4 months ago

Text

CALL IT FATE - PROLOGUE: KNOCKIN' ON HEAVEN'S DOOR

summary: your roommate left and the bills were staring to pill up when three knocks to your door bring you Ino Takuma: say hello to your new roommate. The easygoing boy quickly worms his way into your life and heart. pairing: Ino Takuma x reader word count: 1.3k contents: college AU, short series, afab!reader, fluff, some crack, cursing, miscommunication (you think Ino is gay), strangers to friends to lovers (and they were roommates!), smut to come in future chapters (MDNI)!

prologue || chapter one

"What do you mean you're moving?!" you bellow, throwing your hands up in disgruntlement as you walk back and forth through your living room.

"I know it's sudden, but-" your roommate tries to chime in from her spot on the couch, shoulders hunched as if trying to make herself look smaller and hands splayed together on top of her thighs.

"Sudden is right. I'm not saying I'm not happy for you, but you could at least have let me know in advance, you know? I mean, a little room to breathe would've been nice." you keep on rambling.

"I'm so sorry! It's just... we've been dating for a few years now and when she asked me to move in with her I just- what was I supposed to do?"

"Say yes?" at that you finally stop, one hand running over your face, "and then ask for a little time so your roommate doesn't get swarmed in debt."

Utahime has the chagrin to stay quiet while you let your frustration out. Glancing at her from between your splayed fingers, your own shoulders fall, defeated. You walk to the couch and let yourself fall down beside her with a deep sigh, head lazily lolling back against the worn-out cotton.

"I can't afford this place on my own and we're in the middle of the semester, how am I supposed to find anyone?"

"I'm sorry." she tries one more time, softly.

You turn your head to face your ex-roommate and reach for her hand, a small if not bittersweet smile on your lips.

"I really am happy for you, Hime."

"I know."

"Ugh! The commute back and forth to campus has been taking me ages. I haven't had the time to skate in... forever!" Ino Takuma whined to his aloof blond friend, head falling down against the table wooden top with a smack.

Nanami scowled in disgust, who knows how many people have done god knows what against that same table top but showed no other reaction to Ino's dramatic display. He kept on politely munching on the surprisingly good sandwich he had just bought at the campus cafeteria.

The unlikely duo had come to be when Ino had been a freshman at Jujutsu Tech and desperately needed help in one of the general courses. With the pending prospect of failing his class, he finally sought out tutoring. Cue in Nanami Kento, a junior with one of the highest GPAs in the school who offered tutoring lessons for extra credit.

Takuma had instantly latched onto Kento, his admiration and high regard evident through his constant praise of the slightly older man. And Nanami try as he might couldn't help but cave in under Ino's unrelenting enthusiasm because, as cold as he may seen, he has a soft heart underneath.

"You think maybe I could get a spot in one of the units closer to the campus?" his voice comes out muffled.

"We're in the middle of the semester, Ino. I doubt there's anyone interested in-" Nanami cuts himself off when an abrupt memory flashes in his head.

"You're right." Takuma lifts his head up and sighs, taking a large bite of his own sandwich and chewing thoughtfully.

"No, no. I just remembered something. Believe it or not a friend recently had her girlfriend move in with her. Her roommate could be looking for a new tenant." Nanami puts his sandwich down and reach for a napkin, meticulously cleaning his fingers before picking up his cellphone and scrolling through it.

"You're joking?" The brunet visibly perks up, his entire demeanor shifting, eyes wide and lips splitting into a wide grin.

"Not at all." Nanami replies mindlessly as he starts typing on his phone.

Meanwhile, Ino's eyes grow distant as his head spirals into different thoughts and plans, "that's like... it's gotta be destiny or something like that, right?!"

Just then Nanami's phone chimes with three consecutive pings.

"Yes. Very fortuitous indeed. They are in fact looking for a roommate. Here, I'll send you the address."

After your roommate left for good, everything seemed to be going downhill.

Five out of the six jobs you applied to had reached back out only to let you down, you missed the deadline to an important project in one of your classes, you accidentally washed a red pair of panties along with the white clothing ending up with a bunch of pink pieces instead and, to make matters worse, the heater broke down just as the temperature started dropping.

You were in the middle of a break down when there were three knock to the door.

Your spine went rigid, cold sweat running down your back, immediately assuming the worse. Murphy's Law has been theorized for a reason after all.

"Well, better nip it in the bud." you mumbled before lifting yourself up from your laid out position on the floor with a grunt and some joints popping.

As you open the door you're surprised to find a boy you're pretty sure you've seen in passing across the campus standing with his hands in his pockets. He is handsome in a boyish way and you can't help but appreciating his big dark eyes and disheveled brown hair.

"Can I help you?" you ask after a few seconds of awkward silence as he stares at you with wide eyes.

"Uhm... yes! Yes. I, well, you see, I was complaining about the loooooong time it takes to and fro from my apartment to campus and how I no longer have time to do anything, it's really annoying because I like to skate and chill with my friends sometimes, you know? And then Nanami, who's whip-smart, reminded me we're in the middle of the semester so chances were I would be stuck there at least until it ended. But suddenly he remembered a friend of his had just had her girlfriend move in with her so now her girlfriend's roommate could be seeking another roommate! So he reached out and turns out, she is! I mean, was. If she takes me, that is. No! Wait, I mean, if you take me."

You blink owlishly as your brain struggles to comprehend the influx of words being thrown at you at breakneck speed, "what?"

"Damn," he sighs and looks down, wincing at his own frenzy, "I'm sorry, I got ahead of myself. Let me start over," the boy fixes his posture and tries again, "hi, I'm Ino Takuma. I heard you were looking for a roommate and I wanted to apply for the position!" He punctuates his sentence with a charming smile that had no business being as cute as it is.

You introduce yourself with a chuckle.

"I am looking for a roommate. You said Nanami sent you? The blond guy with the glasses and a penchant for weird patterns?"

"Yes! That's definitely him."

"We may not be close, but I know for sure that's the most trustworthy guy on campus."

"He really is. Nanami is like the most amazing guy I ever met. He's so smart and cool. And handsome too!" Ino says dreamily, a bit too dreamily for it to pass as only admiration and you feel yourself growing a bit less tense, letting go of the door you were halfway hiding behind.

Sharing your housing with a man would be a risky venture at the very least but if said man played for the same team? maybe that could work.

"I'm not gonna lie, you've come at the right time." You admit, glancing at him from below your lashes. He seems to falter for a second, but recover just as quick.

"See! It's like fate!" his overexcited reaction has your smile growing, Ino has this endearing quality to him that immediately lowers your defenses.

"Fate." You nod your head, lost in your own head.

"So?"

"Oh, yeah! Right! Come on in. Let's chat about this."

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @ilovemyhusbandnanami @iluvmusicxoxo @tunnelvisionlove @sweetwonieee - I went ahead and tagged those who showed interest in the drabble that lead to this series as well as those who asked for it, hope you don't mind (and if you do just let me know and I'll take you out) <3

#mavi writes #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #jjk x reader #ino takuma x you #ino #ino x reader #jjk fluff

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angelsleepinggurl · 24 days ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧’ 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞.

cw: squirting, p in v, teacher kink, slapping.

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚

another day rolls by and you’re in a chemistry lesson, the material seeming unable to permeate your brain. all this talk about acids and types of reactions is not doing it for you this wednesday afternoon. yet you still try to get notes down from the lesson, wanting to consolidate your knowledge. the sky is settling into a mellow blue to match the mellow hue in the students’ hearts. you’re just looking forward to this day being over.

a soft thud of a paper lands on your desk. you blink and glance up. it’s your teacher, giving you that smile that’s part-pity, part-apology. group project time. from the moment you could think, you’ve hated group projects. having to slow your roll so you’re on board with the rest. having to stay quiet so they don’t complain that you’re too bossy. having to let people research things incorrectly, therefore reducing the validity of your assignment and lowering your score. you think it’s a stupid thing to have to go through. it would be much more effective if you just did it on your own.

in some classes you get lucky and the teachers let you work on your own, in other cases, no students partner up with you and you’re left as the odd one out.

what? it’s not pathetic. you chose this.

acid-base reactions in everyday life.

seems simple enough. you begin to get ready to put your head down and start your research, until “need someone on your team?” a cheery voice says to you from above. looking up from your papers you see the owl-like boy, with his frosted tips, who is smiling so widely. then you look behind him and notice oikawa and kuroo, the two shitheads who are also grinning.

a simple ‘no’ is all you say, before turning your attention back to the homework sheet which is explaining the assignment.

“please?” oikawa says, the three of them inch towards you, it’s almost scary.

“no. go away.” you say again, rejecting their advances. they sure are persistent.

“go away? did you hear that?” oikawa says shocked. you don’t even have to look to guess that he’s dramatically placing his hand on his chest and looking offended. you just shift your body towards the wall and away from them.

“I totally just heard that.” kuroo responds.

bokuto chimes in too, adding to their nonsense.“that is no way to talk to someone.”

“ugh. what do you want from me?” you finally say, turning back to look at them but visibly annoyed. most classmates would have left you alone by now. but not these ones.

“we want to be in your group.” bokuto states, his hands on his hips, highlighting his physique underneath his shirt.

“what?” you ask, “wouldn’t you say you would want me to join your group? since you’re actually a group?” they collectively appear slightly defeated at your statement.

“exactly. we need someone smart like you so we can understand the content.” bokuto says, justifying his previous statement.

you chuckle, looking at your paper again, “i am not falling for that. you just want me in your group so i do all your work for you, an that’s not happening.”

“isn’t that what you were going to do anyway?” oikawa asks.

“i was but, it’s different if i was only doing the work for myself to begin with. i am not your slave. our agreement didn’t say i had to do your homework too.”

“careful how you speak missy.” kuroo says, and you bite your tongue. your teacher is looking at you, maybe in hope. maybe thinking to herself, ‘finally this girl is able to get people she will tolerate in her group’- and though you don’t really care to let her down like that, a voice in the back of your head reminds you that the teacher writes your references for you. if they all collectively write about how antisocial you are that is bound to leave the colleges with bad tastes in their mouths. so you smile. you swallow it all down—the bad feeling you’re getting from this, the voice in your head screaming ‘NO! NO!’—and reluctantly allow them.

“you can join my group if you’d like.”

one point for their team.“that’s great. isn’t that great guys?” oikawa says.

“so great.” kuroo responds. they all pull out chairs and sit around you, prepared for your first instruction, yet all you can think is please leave me alone.

flipping the sheet, you begin to create a list of things for everyone to do. these morons would not be able to sort it out for the life of them. although your actions are pointless and the risk is far greater than the reward, you try anyway. “whatch’a doing?” bokuto asks in your ear, his body pressed up against you, dangerously close, as he invades your personal space. that alone is enough for you to snap, but you take a second to push down your emotions again and keep calm.

“making a list.”

“why?”

“so you know what to do.”

“can’t you just tell us?”

you have to stop yourself from strangling him and ripping his head off. he’s too close so the idea is tempting.

“if i just tell you, someone may forget, then it’s up to me to fix the missing work like the night before.”

“woah. why is the finish time in 1 week and not 2?” he exclaims, placing a finger on your estimated finish date. this news causes the two boys to perk up.

“because if i don’t keep you guys on a schedule, all hell will break lose. that is not happening. not under my watch. hey-” your planning sheet gets snatched by kuroo, and both him and oikawa inspect it from the other side of the table.

“you cannot expect us to do all this per day.” kuroo says, your face heats up from embarrassment, “there’s no need. just take it slow like everyone else.” he pushes his sheets towards you and it nearly flies off the table, before placing his hands lazily behind his head.

“we aren’t like everyone else. that’s why i’m me and they’re them.” you explain, avoiding eye contact.

“okay, but we’re not you-” oikawa starts but you interrupt him.

“my group. my rules. you said you wanted to join my group after all didn’t you?”

silence. that’s what i thought.

“okay great, now all of you hold unto your piece of paper, if you lose it i will execute you. do not try me.” you explain, cutting of the pieces of paper with a ruler, then distributing it.

“damn girl. can’t we just have a little bit of fun?” oikawa asks, crossing his arms on the desk and laying his head on them.

“school is not fun.” you say blatantly. that’s an obvious fact.

“no way. from the way you treat it, i thought that you threatening boys to do their work in a week gave you a rush.” kuroo jokes. this causes the other boys to chime in as well.

“yeah i thought you were all like, ‘can’t wait to go to my next class.’ “

“waking up all happy and shit before school.” bokuto laughs, slapping his hand on the table loudly. the loud sound draws the teacher’s attention towards your desk and you quickly give her a reassuring smile.

“believe it or not, i am a normal person. i’m just taking school seriously because i wan’t to have a life when i grow up. you know, outside of forcing girls to do whatever they want for you.”

the laughter from before completely dies down. there isn’t a hint of giggling in the air. there’s been a shift in mood.

“so do you like have a teacher kink? do they get you all hot and flustered?” a shift in mood that bokuto does not pick up on. the question alone has your eyes widening ever so slightly. you’re scared someone in your class has heard that. you kick bokuto and keep your head down, staring at the piece of paper in front of you.

“we cannot be talking about this right now and no. please shut up.”

“Hmm, fuck yea.” you sigh, bokuto’s hand placed firmly on the small of your back as he pounds you down into the desk table.

okay, it’s true. you hate to admit it, but you do have a teacher kink. it’s scary how well he guessed that especially after he got everything else wrong. they really do get you all hot and flustered, which is a shameful thing to say but it’s true. “there’s a good girl, do you wanna answer my next question now?” he asks, lifting your head off the desk with one hand, admiring your fucked dumb face. it’s after school hours and the student council has just finished. bokuto made it crucial to be right on time, swooping right through the doors as soon as you opened them.

“what do you want?” you spit, irritated that you had to end off your day seeing one of those useless boys.

“woah can i not come and meet my project partner and ask her for help on the tasks she assigned me?” he asked innocently, leaning against the door with one arm as the rest of the council filed out of the room.

with an annoyed huff you agree, “fine, but make it quick.” and that’s how it started, with him enquiring about the project, sitting on your office chair watching with wide eyes, and you leaning against the edge of the table. from him sliding his hands up your thigh, the infamous distraction point, and getting you flustered, to getting you to lay on the table, flipping your skirt over as well.

the oak table beneath helps to cool you down as your body heats up from this exertion. “now tell me something else that we learnt this chemistry lesson.” he instructed, his large hand smoothing over the flesh of your ass, soothing it from his previous slaps. you would answer his question, easily, but it’s getting hard to focus when he seems to be reaching deeper than before because your leg is propped up on the table.

“um,” you squeak, clawing at the table as though that would help you gain mental clarity. “there are… um.. fuck. there are acids and metal reactions too.” you’re barely able to get that sentence out and white head decides that it’s not enough.

“you’re my prime student, i’m sure you can do better than that.” he says smoothly. you’re ticked off that he thinks and says things so smoothly without it having to require 80% of your brain power to generate a sentence. “can you do better than that?” he asks, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“mhfuck. yes.”

“yes, who?”

“yes sir. um when acids and metals react they- they can make umm, they make-” your head drops down, hot forehead touching the cool table. “i’m close. i’m close.” you respond breathlessly.

“that’s not the answer.” he laughs, finding your state amusing. “even i know that.” dramatically slowing down his thrusts and landing a harsh slap on your ass. you feel your eyes glossing over with tears, overwhelmed by sensations.

“no don’t slow down again. don’t stop.” you cry, your cheek staining with your tears.

“answer my question then, what do they make when they react?”

“they make salt and hydrogen gas!”

he takes a brief moment to think,“shii, i don’t know the answer to that one either so imma give it to you.” you mentally scream in frustration at his response, you went through all that mental fatigue only for him to not know.

“you wanna come baby girl?” he asks, sliding his hand up to the side of your hip.

“yes, fuck yes, please.”

“you really have got a foul mouth. i better train that habit out of you next time. but i guess you deserve this.” his thrusts grow sloppier as he gets close too. sound of the table rocking and scraping the floor, fill up the room. you’re quivering and shuddering as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. you feel like you’re in a different dimension, and with the final thrust, his tip brushes against your cervix. you feel like you’re in heaven.

“yes, fuck, oh god, yes right there!” you exclaim, your body surging with pleasure. “oh my gosh, didjust pee?”

“no, but you did squirt though,” he replies, amused, parts of his sports jersey soaked,a wide smirk on his face.

⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚

(please send a dm or comment on my the pinned blog to join.)

taglist: @slutkoo

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

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w1w2 · 2 months ago

Text

A Contract of Silence

Previous part | Part 11 | Next part

Giselle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 8k

Synopsis: Giselle has always known how to build walls, but rebuilding what she’s broken is an entirely different challenge. With every careful gesture and unspoken apology, she tries to prove that this time, she won’t run.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Giselle had spent years building walls high enough to keep the world out, sharpening her edges into something untouchable, convincing herself that detachment was safer, that caring too much only led to disappointment. It had been easier that way, easier to pretend that nothing mattered, easier to keep people at a distance, easier to control the things she let herself feel.

But Y/N had never been something she could control.

And somewhere along the way, somewhere between cold contracts and whispered confessions, between late-night lessons and closeness that never should have happened, between stolen glances and a war she hadn’t even realized she was fighting, Giselle had lost the ability to pretend.

Because she cared, because when Y/N curled up beside her that night, when her fingers twitched in sleep and her breath hitched in dreams, when her warmth pressed into the spaces Giselle hadn’t realized were cold, she felt it.

She had spent so long convincing herself that this wasn’t real, that it didn’t matter, that whatever existed between them was nothing more than an illusion built out of necessity. But that had been a lie.

It started slowly, almost imperceptibly, small shifts, quiet gestures, things Y/N could have dismissed if she hadn’t been paying attention.

At first, she tried not to.

She tried to ignore the way Giselle never walked ahead of her anymore, always keeping pace at her side, matching her steps instead of expecting her to follow. She tried not to notice how their conversations, if they could even be called that, no longer felt like negotiations, no longer felt like Giselle was choosing her words.

Because this time, she wasn’t just talking at Y/N. She was talking to her, and more importantly, she was listening. Truly listening.

It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t instant, effortless change. It was awkward at times, uneven, like Giselle was learning how to be something she had never been before.

Because she was.

She was trying and not in the way she had before, not with carefully placed affection in public, not with fleeting gestures designed to look good under scrutiny. This was different.

It was in the way Giselle started texting her, small messages sent throughout the day with no demand for a response, just an acknowledgment that she was thinking of her.

"Don’t forget to eat." "Your favorite café has that drink you like today." "Hope your morning is going okay."

Simple, insignificant things. And yet.

Y/N always read them.

She didn’t always respond, sometimes she left them sitting on her screen for hours, sometimes she turned her phone over and pretended they didn’t make her feel anything at all.

But she always read them and Giselle never pressed. Never asked why she didn’t answer, never pushed for more, never expected anything Y/N wasn’t ready to give.

She was just... there.

One evening the city outside hummed softly, distant and unbothered, a quiet symphony of headlights cutting through the streets, of life moving on as if nothing had changed. The penthouse, by contrast, was still. Not tense, not cold, just quiet. A silence that wasn’t empty, but wasn’t entirely comfortable either. A silence that held something just beneath the surface, waiting.

Y/N sat curled up on the couch, her sketchbook balanced against her knee, charcoal smudging the tips of her fingers, lines and shadows coming to life beneath her careful strokes. Near her, Giselle worked, typing something, scrolling through endless reports, the occasional sound of a page turning as she flicked through a document, her attention split between too many things.

They had been like this for nearly an hour, existing in the same space but separate, moving around each other in a way that felt unspoken, effortless, like two people trying to figure out how to coexist without breaking whatever fragile thing had started to rebuild between them.

But then, there was a shift.

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t intentional, it wasn’t something either of them saw coming.

Giselle let out a frustrated sigh, barely audible, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as tension settled into the curve of her shoulders, something unreadable flickering across her expression. Y/N didn’t look up, but she felt it, the weight of Giselle’s exhaustion, the way stress bled into every exhale, the way her body language softened just slightly, like she was allowing herself to be human in this one, fleeting moment.

Then, without looking up, without thinking, without hesitating, Giselle reached for her.

Her hand found Y/N’s hand, fingertips brushing against her skin, light, fleeting, barely a touch at all. Not a demand, not a request. Just something instinctual, something unconscious, something that might have happened a hundred times before if Giselle had ever allowed herself the luxury of reaching for comfort.

The weight of that touch settled between them, stretched out in the space of a single breath, and Y/N, who had spent so long keeping herself at a distance, stilled beneath it.

She could have pulled away, she should have.

But she didn’t, she let Giselle hold her, she let the silence wrap around them, let the moment settle into something neither of them understood but neither of them tried to break.

And that meant something.

The lessons started again, not because Giselle had to learn, but because she truly wanted to.

At first, Y/N had been cautious, hesitant in a way that Giselle could feel more than she could see. She didn’t refuse, didn’t push her away, but there was still distance in the way she moved through their lessons, in the way she held herself too carefully, as if waiting for the moment Giselle would get bored, would stop trying, would pull away first.

But Giselle didn’t.

Other evening they sat on the floor of the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows along the walls, pooling warmth over the expensive hardwood. A book of basic phrases lay open between them, but neither of them were looking at it now.

Giselle’s hands moved, fingers slightly stiff, the motions clumsy as she struggled to form the right shapes, as she tried, really tried, to say something the way Y/N would, to speak without words, to use her hands the way Y/N had done so effortlessly from the moment they met.

She felt Y/N watching her, quiet, attentive, waiting.

She knew she was getting it wrong before she even saw Y/N move.

A soft exhale. A small shift.

And then, warm fingers catching her wrist, adjusting, guiding.

Giselle’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.

The touch was light, barely there, but it was enough to make her hyperaware of how close they were, of how Y/N’s fingertips pressed gently against her skin, of how she didn’t flinch the way she used to.

Y/N repositioned her fingers with careful precision, tilting her wrist slightly, tapping against the base of her thumb to adjust the shape. Her movements were fluid, confident, effortless. And for the first time, Giselle wished she wasn’t so bad at this.

Not because she hated failing, not because she was frustrated with herself. But because she wanted Y/N to see that she was trying.

She exhaled sharply, her mouth twitching at the corner in quiet frustration as she let out a low, “This one is harder than I thought.”

Y/N smiled then.

Not a smirk. Not an amused curve of her lips at Giselle’s struggle. A real smile, a small, quiet, almost fond kind of smile.

She shook her head, signing smoothly, "You're better than before."

Giselle blinked, caught off guard, not just by the words, but by the softness of them. By the way Y/N had noticed.

The way she wasn’t pretending not to anymore.

A pause. A hesitation.

And then, as if she was choosing her next move carefully, Y/N signed again.

"You're trying."

The words settled between them, heavier than they should have been, sinking into something deeper, something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable.

Giselle softened.

Her fingers curled slightly, as if to keep Y/N’s touch there just a little longer, before she exhaled and signed back, slowly, deliberately "I don’t want to be bad at this."

At first, Y/N thought she meant the language, then she saw the way Giselle was looking at her.

And she knew.

It took time, weeks of small gestures, of careful steps forward, of learning how to exist in each other’s space again without flinching.

There were moments when Y/N still hesitated before answering when Giselle spoke, when she still pulled away too quickly if Giselle reached for her unexpectedly.

But there were also moments like this.

Moments where the distance wasn’t so impossible, moments where they sat beside each other, close enough to touch but not needing to. Moments where Y/N caught Giselle watching her, and instead of looking away, she let her, moments where she let herself believe, even just for a second, that maybe, this wasn’t a mistake.

The first time Giselle asked Y/N on a date, she had expected hesitation, expected the quiet, careful way Y/N always processed things now, the unspoken weight that lingered between them whenever Giselle stepped too close, reached too far, tried too much.

But she hadn’t expected Y/N to just... stare.

The elevator ride back to the penthouse was quiet, the soft hum of the machinery the only sound between them. Y/N stood beside Giselle, close but not touching, arms crossed loosely over her chest as she stared ahead, her expression unreadable.

They had been fine tonight. Not perfect, not like before everything had shattered, but better. Y/N had let her sit close, had answered when she spoke, had even let herself relax in a way that didn’t feel so forced anymore. That was progress.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not for Giselle, she wanted more.

Her fingers curled against the metal railing, jaw tightening slightly as she debated whether to say it now, whether this was the right moment, whether Y/N would shut her out again if she pushed too hard.

But the words were already forming, low, measured, deliberate.

“Go out with me.”

Y/N’s posture stiffened slightly. A small reaction, almost imperceptible, but Giselle noticed.

She always noticed.

Y/N turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing just a fraction, as if trying to determine if she had heard correctly.

Giselle swallowed, forcing herself to keep her voice even, steady, unaffected.

“A real date.”

She watched the way Y/N’s fingers flexed slightly against her arm, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

The elevator continued its slow ascent, each passing second stretching unbearably between them. Y/N’s lips parted slightly, like she needed the extra oxygen to process what was happening.

Then, finally, she pulled out her phone.

Giselle waited, her pulse thrumming in her ears as Y/N’s fingers moved over the screen, slower than usual, as if she was choosing every word carefully.

Y/N turned the phone toward her.

“A real date?”

Giselle nodded, not looking away.

“Yes, just the two of us. No board members near, no cameras, no media.”

The elevator doors slid open, but neither of them moved.

Y/N’s gaze flickered downward, fingers tightening slightly around her phone, her breath slow and measured, like she was weighing the risk of believing Giselle this time.

Then, finally she simply nodded.

A small, hesitant thing, but it was real.

And as she stepped out of the elevator, disappearing into the penthouse, Giselle realized she was still holding her breath.

She exhaled, slowly, carefully, her fingers flexing at her sides as she stood there for a moment longer than necessary, watching the empty space where Y/N had just been, feeling warmth settle in her chest.

It wasn’t relief, not yet.

Because nodding wasn’t the same as trusting.

Saying yes wasn’t the same as choosing her.

And yet, as Giselle sat in the backseat of the car, the city stretching wide around them, the soft blur of headlights casting streaks of gold against the tinted windows, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

She stole a glance at Y/N beside her, the glow of passing streetlights tracing along the sharp curve of her jaw, the delicate slope of her nose, the way her fingers tapped idly against the phone resting in her lap.

She didn’t look nervous.

But she didn’t look at Giselle either.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, wasn’t cold like before, but it wasn’t entirely easy either.

It was waiting.

And maybe, just maybe, Giselle was waiting too.

The car slowed, pulling up to the entrance of the restaurant, a place tucked away from the flashing lights and cameras, from the expectations and pretense, from the weight of everything that wasn’t just them.

Y/N looked at her then, just briefly, just enough for Giselle to catch the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she reached for the door handle.

And as they stepped inside, leaving the city behind, the night stretched forward like an unanswered question.

The restaurant was quiet, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel forced but intentional, designed to soften the edges of the world outside, to create a space where nothing existed beyond the low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the flickering candlelight that bathed everything in a warm, golden glow.

Tucked away from the flashing cameras, from the suffocating obligations of their carefully constructed lie, the place was unassuming, no extravagant chandeliers, no pretentious displays of wealth, nothing that screamed power or control. Just polished wooden floors, soft lighting spilling from vintage fixtures, the faint scent of aged wine and something delicate, something familiar, something grounding.

Giselle had chosen it for that reason. Because for once, she didn’t want to impress. She didn’t want grand displays or hollow gestures. She just wanted a moment that felt real.

And yet, sitting across from Y/N now, watching the way she traced the rim of her glass with absentminded precision, her gaze flickering between the restaurant’s decor, the candle between them, the polished silverware beside her plate, Giselle could tell she was searching for the catch.

Because that was how it had always been with them, an arrangement built on expectations, a transaction laced with unspoken conditions. There had always been an angle, a reason, a hidden string pulling them closer only to remind them that none of it belonged to them.

But tonight, there was nothing.

No media presence. No fabricated smiles. No contracts binding them together.

Just the two of them, sitting at a table meant for something softer than what they were used to.

Giselle had expected silence.

Had expected the same distance Y/N had been holding between them for weeks, the same polite but cold detachment, the kind that made it feel as if they were standing on opposite sides of something too fragile to cross.

She had not expected Y/N to pull out her phone, fingers moving across the screen with slow, deliberate movements, before sliding it across the table.

She glanced down.

"You’re nervous."

Giselle blinked, caught between the absurdity of the observation and the fact that she hadn’t even realized it herself.

Because of course she was.

She had spent years leading an empire, standing before ruthless men who wanted nothing more than to see her fail, forcing her way through a world that had never been kind to women who refused to be small. She had sat through negotiations worth millions, faced off against rivals who would slit her throat the second she showed weakness.

But none of that had ever made her nervous.

This, however, was different.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the stem of her wine glass before she exhaled, tilting her head slightly as a quiet, unexpected laugh slipped from her lips.

Low, soft, real. It startled even herself.

“Maybe.”

Y/N didn’t react at first. Didn’t do anything beyond watching her, her expression unreadable. But then, just barely, her lips twitched.

Not a full smile. Not yet.

Just a flicker of something, so faint that Giselle might have imagined it if she weren’t paying attention.

She hadn’t expected that either.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

The food had come and gone, barely touched, forgotten in favor of quiet exchanges, careful glances, the slow, delicate process of relearning each other in a way that wasn’t forced, wasn’t scripted, wasn’t dictated by expectation. Conversations had drifted between light and hesitant, never straying too far into anything dangerous, never settling too deeply into anything real.

It was careful, but it wasn’t cold.

And then it happened.

Not in some grand, dramatic way. Not in a way that demanded acknowledgment. Just in the kind of fleeting, almost imperceptible moment that should have meant nothing but somehow changed everything.

Giselle had been absently running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass, distracted by the way the candlelight flickered against the polished wood of the table, by the way Y/N’s gaze shifted whenever she thought Giselle wasn’t looking, by the way something about tonight felt different.

And then, Y/N moved.

Reaching forward, slow, absentminded, adjusting the candle between them, shifting it just slightly to the left, and in the process, her fingertips brushed against Giselle’s.

It wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t a lingering, deliberate touch. It was nothing more than skin meeting skin for the briefest second.

And yet, neither of them moved.

The restaurant didn’t still. The world didn’t shift. The moment didn’t unfold in some dramatic, time-stopping haze. But Giselle still felt it, still registered the warmth of Y/N’s skin, the way her breath hitched so faintly it could have been imagined, the way something unfamiliar curled tight in her chest.

And Y/N didn’t pull away.

That was what made it worse. That was what made it feel like something far heavier than it should have been.

Because Giselle had expected her to recoil, to break the moment before it could settle into something irreversible, to remind them both that this wasn’t supposed to happen, that this wasn’t what they were.

But she didn’t.

For a second, a breath, an eternity stretched into a moment, they remained like that, hands barely touching, warmth bleeding into skin, something unspoken pulsing between them like a silent plea.

Then Y/N pulled away, slow, smooth, effortless, like it hadn’t meant anything at all. Like the moment had already been erased, swallowed whole by the candlelight and the space between them. Like she hadn’t just left Giselle there, fingers still tingling from the ghost of her touch, heart still racing from something that should have never mattered but suddenly did.

She didn’t glance up. Didn’t react. Didn’t so much as acknowledge that it had happened.

But Giselle saw the way her fingers curled slightly into her palm before she rested her hand in her lap.

And she knew.

She knew Y/N had felt it too.

The car was waiting, sleek and black, polished metal reflecting the soft glow of the streetlights. The driver stood by the door, posture straight, hands clasped in front of him, his presence unobtrusive but expectant, waiting for them to slide in, waiting to take them home, waiting for the night to end like it was supposed to.

But Giselle hesitated.

Her steps slowed, then stopped entirely, her fingers curling slightly inside the pocket of her coat, nails pressing into her palm, grounding herself against something unspoken.

Y/N noticed immediately.

Her gaze flickered up, her head tilting slightly, quiet curiosity written in the way she observed her, hand already moving to grab her phone like she was preparing to ask what was wrong, like she was waiting for an explanation, waiting for Giselle to tell her why she suddenly looked like she wasn’t ready to leave yet.

But Giselle didn’t know how to explain it.

Didn’t know how to admit that for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t thinking about work, wasn’t planning five steps ahead, wasn’t calculating the best way to end the night in a way that would benefit her.

She was simply... here.

And she wasn’t ready for it to be over.

She exhaled, slow and measured, shifting her gaze down the quiet street, where the world still moved on without them, where the city stretched out in soft golden hues and the night air curled against her skin, crisp but not cold, something weightless settling into the spaces between them.

Then, before she could think twice, before she could talk herself out of it, she spoke.

"Come take a walk with me."

The words were quieter than she meant them to be, softer, almost uncertain.

It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t even a request.

Just something fragile, something lingering, something that sounded too much like stay with me a little longer.

Y/N didn’t answer immediately.

She studied Giselle’s face, her gaze lingering, searching, trying to understand. Trying to figure out why this moment felt different, why Giselle looked like she wasn’t completely in control of it, why she wasn’t hiding behind her usual sharp edges and carefully constructed detachment.

Giselle let her look.

Didn’t move, didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t pretend she wasn’t standing there waiting for something she didn’t know how to name.

Then, slowly, Y/N nodded.

The city was quieter here, the usual rush of life settling into something gentler, something softer, the lights reflecting against the surface of the Han River in scattered fragments of gold and silver. The air was crisp, cool but not cold, just enough to make the warmth of their coats feel heavier, just enough to make the world around them feel clearer.

They walked side by side, slowly, unhurried, the sound of distant laughter and the occasional ripple of water the only things filling the space between them.

Y/N wasn’t sure what she had expected when she agreed to this, but it hadn’t been this.

Giselle, hands tucked into her pockets, shoulders relaxed, eyes slightly unfocused as she stared ahead, looking almost peaceful. Not guarded. Not calculating. Just... here.

She wasn’t Giselle Uchinaga. She wasn’t a woman built from steel and expectations, wasn’t the untouchable force that stood in boardrooms and dictated the fate of an empire with a flick of her wrist.

She was just Aeri.

After a few minutes of silence, Giselle finally spoke. "I used to come here a lot. Years ago."

Y/N glanced at her, waiting.

"My mother used to bring me when I was little. It was the only place that felt... quiet." She exhaled a slow breath, as if pulling the memory from somewhere deep, somewhere untouched. "My father hated it. Thought it was a waste of time. Thought anything that wasn’t business was a waste of time."

She paused, but not because she was hesitating.

Just because she wasn’t used to saying things like this out loud.

"But my mother didn’t care what he thought. She always said the river reminded her that no matter how much power someone had, no matter how much they tried to control the world, some things would always move on without them."

She scoffed lightly, shaking her head. "I didn’t get it back then. I just liked being here because it was the one place my father never followed."

Y/N didn’t move, didn’t respond, didn’t look away.

She just listened.

The moment stretched between them, soft and fragile, something waiting to be broken.

Then, before it could, Giselle exhaled lightly, turning toward her with the smallest quirk of her lips. "I don’t know why I told you that."

Y/N smiled. A small, knowing thing.

She lifted her hands. "Because you wanted to."

Giselle’s breath caught for just a second. Then she huffed a quiet, amused breath, glancing back toward the river.

"Yeah. Maybe."

The ride up to the penthouse was quiet, the low hum of the elevator filling the space between them, steady and constant, but beneath it, beneath the quiet, beneath the stillness, something else lingered.

Not tension. Not the kind of silence that came from unresolved fights or carefully measured distance. This was something different, something softer, heavier, waiting.

Giselle stood beside Y/N, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, posture effortlessly composed, but her mind wasn’t. Her thoughts were tangled somewhere between the sound of Y/N’s laughter earlier in the evening, between the quiet way she had listened at the river, between the way she had looked at her, like she was seeing something Giselle wasn’t even sure how to show.

She had expected the night to end when they left the restaurant, had expected to get into the car, return home, retreat into their separate spaces like they always did.

But then she had asked Y/N to take a walk with her.

And Y/N had said yes.

And now they were here, standing side by side in an elevator that suddenly felt too small, too quiet.

Y/N didn’t pull away.

That was what Giselle couldn’t shake.

She didn’t fold into herself the way she used to, didn’t keep a deliberate space between them, didn’t shield herself in the careful way she always had, like she was waiting for Giselle to push her away again.

She just stood there, close enough that Giselle could feel the quiet warmth radiating from her body, close enough that she could smell the faint trace of vanilla clinging to her skin, close enough that for the first time in a long time, Giselle didn’t feel alone.

The elevator chimed softly as the doors slid open.

Neither of them moved immediately.

It wasn’t hesitation, wasn’t uncertainty, just one of those moments that stretched, breathless and unspoken, like neither of them wanted to be the first to break it.

Then, finally, Y/N stepped forward, slipping into the penthouse, her movements effortless, natural, like she belonged here. Like this wasn’t something she had spent months resisting, something she had spent weeks trying to convince herself wasn’t real.

Giselle followed, slower, watching as Y/N moved through the space, as she set down her coat, as she ran a hand absentmindedly through her hair.

She should have said something. Should have let the night end the way it was supposed to.

But before she could, Y/N turned.

Her gaze flickered over Giselle’s face, searching, like she was looking for something she couldn’t quite name.

Then, without hesitation, without warning, she stepped closer, and pressed the softest kiss to Giselle’s cheek.

A breath. A second. A moment suspended between them, heavy and fragile all at once.

It was nothing. It was everything.

Giselle didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t even blink as Y/N pulled back, her eyes lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Then, before she could react, before she could think, before she could dissect what had just happened, Y/N lifted her hands.

"Thank you for today. Goodnight, Aeri."

Aeri.

The name settled deep, slipping through every carefully built defense, pressing into something raw, something unguarded, something Giselle had spent years keeping locked away.

She opened her mouth to say something. She didn’t know what.

But Y/N was already turning, already heading toward her room, already slipping out of reach before Giselle could stop her, before she could ask her to stay just a little longer.

Then, just before she disappeared down the hallway, just before the moment was lost, just before the night could close between them, she hesitated.

Not for long.

Not even for more than a second.

But it was long enough. Long enough for Giselle to know that she wasn’t the only one feeling this.

Then the door clicked shut behind her, leaving Giselle standing in the dim glow of the penthouse, hands still curled at her sides, still feeling the warmth of something she hadn’t even known she wanted.

And for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, she wished she had asked her to stay.

The silence between them now wasn’t heavy, wasn’t sharp or suffocating the way it had been before. It was waiting. It was something else entirely.

Y/N sat curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp spilling golden light over her skin, illuminating the curve of her cheek. A book lay open in her lap, but her eyes hadn’t moved across the pages in a long time, her fingers lingering at the edges like she was holding onto something unfinished.

Across the room, Giselle had tried to focus on work, her laptop open, reports glowing against the dim lighting, numbers and contracts and endless lines of text that should have demanded her attention. But she hadn’t read a single word. Her gaze had drifted too often, pulled toward Y/N without permission, caught on the quiet way she breathed, the way the fabric of her sweater gathered slightly around her wrists, the way she looked like she belonged here now.

That realization had settled into something strange, something unfamiliar, something that made Giselle’s chest feel too tight if she thought about it for too long.

She had spent weeks trying. Weeks rebuilding what she had shattered, weeks letting Y/N close enough to see the parts of her that no one else had ever touched. Weeks since their fight, since their kiss, since everything changed.

And yet, sitting here now, watching the storm crawl its way across the city, feeling the warmth of Y/N’s presence just a few feet away, it still didn’t feel real.

Giselle let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose, exhaustion creeping into her bones in a way she refused to acknowledge. She exhaled the words before she could stop herself, voice lower than usual, quieter, more like a thought than a command.

“You should sleep.”

She hadn’t expected Y/N to respond, hadn’t expected anything more than a nod or a dismissive glance, hadn’t expected her to look up, to pause for just a second like she was considering something heavier than sleep.

But she had.

She had stood. Moved past her. Walked across the room with quiet, deliberate steps.

And instead of going to her own room, she had gone into Giselle’s.

For a moment, Giselle just sat there, her body motionless, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. Her grip tightened slightly against the cool surface of her laptop, her breath catching somewhere in her throat, her heart suddenly too loud in the silence Y/N had left behind.

She hadn’t looked back, hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t even waited to see if Giselle would follow.

She had just gone.

Giselle closed her laptop without thinking, the weight of the gesture heavier than it should have been. She moved before she could second-guess herself, before she could talk herself out of it, before she could convince herself that this wasn’t something she wanted.

The bedroom was dimly lit, the curtains shifting slightly with the wind as the storm whispered against the windows, streaks of light breaking through in fractured beams.

And Y/N? Y/N was already in bed.

Not waiting. Not expectant. Not demanding anything from her.

Just there.

Giselle hesitated in the doorway, fingers curling slightly at her sides, something uncertain pressing against her ribs, something that felt too close to the edge of understanding.

This wasn’t the same as before, this wasn’t something written into a contract, something they were required to play out for the sake of appearances.

This was Y/N choosing.

And Giselle, who had always chosen first, who had always held the power in every decision she had ever made, felt completely, utterly unprepared for what that meant.

But she still walked forward.

Still moved toward the bed with careful, measured steps, her heart hammering against her ribs, her pulse a traitorous rhythm in her ears. She pulled back the covers, slid in beside her, the space between them small enough to be nothing at all.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, without thinking, without planning, without giving herself the option to retreat, Giselle reached for her.

Her fingers hesitated for just a second before she closed the distance, pulling Y/N against her, feeling the warmth of her body, the slow and steady rhythm of her breath, the way she fit against her without hesitation.

And Y/N let her.

Didn’t tense, didn’t pull away, didn’t pretend this wasn’t happening.

She simply curled into her, soft and real and something Giselle had never let herself have before.

It didn’t feel suffocating, it didn’t feel like a mistake, it felt like the only thing in the world that made sense.

After that night, it became routine.

Neither of them talked about it. Neither of them needed to. There were no conversations, no admissions of what it meant, no discussions about whether it should be happening at all. It simply was. A quiet, unspoken understanding.

Y/N still had her own room. The space remained untouched, perfectly intact, a reminder of the carefully drawn boundaries that had once existed between them. But she rarely used it now.

Most nights, she found herself in Giselle’s bed instead.

It wasn’t planned. It just happened, again and again, until it became normal. Until it no longer felt like a decision, but an inevitability.

Some nights, they simply existed together, close but separate, wrapped in the kind of silence that felt warm, comforting.

Y/N would be curled up beside her, sketchbook balanced in her lap, fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes across the page. Giselle would read beside her, a book resting against her stomach, her attention flickering between the words on the pages and the way Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly when she concentrated.

Their legs would tangle beneath the covers, their bodies pressing together without thought, the warmth of Y/N’s skin something that had become familiar, something that no longer felt like an intrusion. Outside, the city murmured in the distance, the faint hum of car engines and the occasional wail of sirens threading through the night, but inside the bedroom, there was only stillness. A quiet peace neither of them had ever known before.

Other nights, it was more.

It was the comfort of touch, the slow, deliberate press of fingers against bare skin, the way Giselle’s hand would find Y/N’s waist in the dark, not possessive, not demanding, just there. The way Y/N’s fingers would absently trace patterns along the inside of Giselle’s wrist, slow and absentminded, like she wasn’t even aware she was doing it.

It was the way Giselle would brush Y/N’s hair away from her face, letting her fingers linger against her cheek, feeling the warmth beneath her touch but never pushing, never asking for more. The way Y/N would shift closer in response, the soft weight of her head pressing against Giselle’s chest, her breath evening out as she let the steady rhythm of Giselle’s heartbeat lull her to sleep.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t filled with urgency or desperation or the kind of reckless need that demanded something immediate, something fleeting, something they might regret in the morning.

It was closeness. It was something unspoken but understood, something fragile but grounding, something neither of them had ever allowed themselves to have before.

It had been weeks since their fight.

Weeks since Y/N had told her, “If we don’t feel, we won’t hurt each other.”

She was letting herself feel and so was Giselle. Y/N let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to end in ruin. She let herself believe that maybe, this was something she could have.

Something she could keep and she had no idea just how wrong she was.

The air inside the bedroom felt different, but not in a way that was immediately noticeable, not in a way that would have woken her up. It wasn’t a sound, wasn’t a shift, wasn’t something tangible, just an unease, a weight that curled into the silence, something wrong pressing against the edges of her consciousness, something that had no shape but still managed to sink into her bones, whispering beneath her skin, pulling her from sleep before her mind even understood why.

Giselle stirred, caught between dreams and waking, her body slow to register the stiffness in her limbs, the hazy awareness of warmth pressed against her side, of soft breath curling against the fabric of her shirt, of delicate fingertips resting lightly near her ribs, twitching slightly in sleep.

Y/N.

She was still there, curled against her, still safe, still real, still breathing, and for a moment, Giselle allowed herself to exhale, allowed herself to settle into the quiet of it, to feel something deep inside her loosen, to believe that the world outside these walls could not reach them here, that this one piece of her life would remain untouched, unbroken.

But the feeling did not fade.

The silence was different.

Not the comfortable kind, not the kind that had stretched between them these last few weeks, filled with something warm, something waiting. This was something else, something wrong, something heavy, something suffocating in the way that came before a storm, in the way that made animals flee before a disaster struck, in the way that made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle even though nothing had happened yet.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets, her muscles tensing, breath slowing, listening, waiting, searching for the thing her instincts had already sensed, the thing that had not yet revealed itself but was already there, already watching, already closing in.

The bedroom stretched quiet around them, bathed in the soft glow of the moon slipping through the curtains in broken slants, tracing over the edges of the bed, over the curve of Y/N’s shoulder, over the stillness that had become unbearable in the last few seconds. The city outside flickered, headlights cutting through the night, distant sirens wailing somewhere far enough away that they might as well have belonged to another world.

But in here, inside this room, there was nothing but the sound of her own breath.

Too loud. Too slow. Too wrong.

And then it happened.

The door did not creak, did not groan open with warning, did not give them even a second to prepare before the lock snapped with a sharp, violent crack, before the wood slammed against the wall, before the world they had spent weeks carefully rebuilding was torn apart in an instant.

The room exploded.

The silence shattered beneath the force of bodies moving too quickly, dark figures pouring in like shadows set loose, the gleam of steel catching the dim light, the unmistakable weight of guns. Armed men, dressed in black, their faces cold, impassive, unreadable, their movements sharp and calculated as they spread through the space, overwhelming before the fight had even begun.

A voice, sharp, low, laced with something lethal, barked out an order in a language she understood but could not process fast enough, syllables cutting through the air like blades. The words didn’t matter. She already knew what this was.

The breath she had been holding escaped all at once, her body already shifting, instincts overriding thought, every muscle coiling beneath the weight of rage, of survival, of something deeper than fear.

Beside her, Y/N gasped, the sound barely more than a sharp inhale, her body jerking awake, confusion flickering across her face, sleep still clinging to her limbs, her mind still slow, still vulnerable, still unguarded in a way that sent panic roaring through Giselle’s veins.

Before she could react, before she could reach for her, before she could stop it, a gloved hand grabbed Y/N by the wrist, ripping her from the bed.

Her body jerked forward so violently that she barely had time to catch her breath before she was being dragged, before she was being torn from warmth, from safety, from Giselle, her legs kicking out against the sheets as she struggled, her free hand reaching, grasping for anything, but finding nothing.

The world tilted.

Giselle didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even breathe before she moved.

The weight of the sheets tangled around her legs, but she tore free, lunging forward, every nerve in her body screaming, rage burning so hot it felt cold. She swung without thinking, a sharp, brutal twist of her arm, her knuckles colliding with something solid, bone, muscle, a sickening crack splitting the air as one of them staggered back, a sharp grunt of pain confirming the damage.

Not enough.

Another one closed in.

Her wrist was caught before she could land the next blow, fingers tightening, twisting, ropes, quick, unrelenting, pulling tight around her skin, burning against flesh.

She wrenched back, her free hand lashing out, another hit, another impact, another step backward from the man she struck, but the grip on her wrist only tightened, unyielding, dragging her down, dragging her under.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

The room blurred, too many hands, too many voices, too many shadows closing in all at once.

A weight slammed into her from behind, sharp, unforgiving, crushing into her spine, knocking the air from her lungs in a violent exhale, her knees hitting the floor so hard she barely registered the pain.

The restraint was instant.

Iron fingers wrenched her arms behind her, an elbow pressing hard against the back of her neck, forcing her forward, her cheek grazing the mattress before she was pulled back, forced onto her knees, forced still, forced into helplessness.

Y/N.

The name crashed through her mind like a scream, her head snapping up, her breath ragged, vision tunneling toward the only thing that mattered.

Y/N was on the ground, facedown, arms pinned behind her, a knee pressing into her back, her body small beneath the force keeping her down, her fingers twitching but unable to move, her face turned toward Giselle, eyes wide, unblinking.

Giselle knew that look.

Wide eyes, wild and unblinking, not understanding, not processing, just staring, desperate, searching, pleading.

She had seen it before, in moments of helplessness, in memories she never let herself revisit, in people who had learned too late that there was no way out.

But Y/N wasn’t supposed to look at her like that.

She wasn’t supposed to look at her like Giselle didn’t have the answers.

Like she didn’t know how to fix this. Like she was terrified in a way that had nothing to do with herself and everything to do with Giselle losing.

The realization shattered something inside her.

She fought against the restraints, her entire body twisting, burning, her muscles screaming, but the ropes only dug deeper, cutting into her skin, cutting off circulation, cutting off her only chance to protect Y/N.

A sharp, acrid scent curled into her nose. A cloth, pressed against her mouth.

Sickly sweet.

Chemical.

Her body betrayed her before her mind even registered what was happening.

Her vision blurred, darkened at the edges, her thoughts unraveling into nothing, her movements sluggish, heavy, slow.

She fought against it.

Tried to hold her breath. Tried to keep her eyes open.

Y/N.

She saw her one last time, still staring at her, still frozen, still trapped beneath the weight of something neither of them could escape.

And the last thing Giselle felt before everything went black was Y/N’s fear sinking into her own bones.

The world came back in pieces.

A dull, throbbing ache at the base of her skull, pulsing with each sluggish heartbeat. The sharp sting of something split and raw at the corner of her lip, the faint taste of metal, coppery, bitter, unmistakable. The cold bite of concrete beneath her knees, seeping through her clothes, through her skin, sinking deep into the marrow of her bones.

Giselle’s eyelids felt heavy, her body reluctant, slow, her limbs unresponsive as she forced herself to move. She barely got an inch before she felt it, the unyielding drag of coarse rope slicing into her wrists, the sharp resistance of her arms pulled behind her, bound so tight that even the smallest motion sent fire licking up her skin.

Her breath stuttered, her lungs tightening against the rising tide of panic, her senses still blurred, her mind still trying to grasp the edges of what had happened, how they had gotten here, what she had failed to stop.

Concrete floors. Exposed beams. Rusted metal beams stretched high overhead, their surfaces stained and corroded, dripping with the weight of time. The thick, stagnant scent of damp metal and oil, of something old, something forgotten, something rotting.

A warehouse.

Her pulse hammered, her vision swimming as her eyes adjusted, scanning the dim space, searching.

Her chest clenched, her spine straightening against the restraints, the burn of the rope forgotten as her gaze landed on the figure beside her.

Y/N.

Tied the same way. Hands bound. Ankles secured.

Breathing. Alive.

Her shoulders were rigid, her posture unnaturally stiff, her fingers twitching ever so slightly against the concrete, the only sign that she wasn’t frozen completely. Her breathing was shallow, controlled, but there was something in her eyes, something too still, too careful, something that said she was holding on by a thread, forcing herself not to fall apart.

Giselle exhaled sharply, something breaking loose in her chest, something raw and unsteady that threatened to devour her whole.

But relief was short-lived.

The moment stretched too long, the silence wrapping around them too thickly, like it had been waiting, like it had been orchestrated to watch them wake up to this horror in slow motion.

And then she heard it.

Footsteps.

The sound echoed through the space, slow, measured, deliberate.

A presence thick and suffocating, bleeding from the shadows, stretching toward them with the weight of something calculated, cruel, inevitable.

Giselle didn’t need to see him to know.

She already knew.

Jeno.

He emerged from the darkness with a predator’s ease, his movements fluid, unhurried, his hands resting in the pockets of his tailored slacks as if this was nothing more than an unfortunate business meeting, as if this wasn’t a hostage situation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, dark amusement flickering in his gaze as he came to a stop in front of them, his head tilting slightly as he examined his work.

His eyes dragged over Giselle first, assessing, calculating, waiting for something she wouldn’t give him. Then they flickered toward Y/N, scanning her the way a person might evaluate a weakness, a leverage, a weapon.

Giselle felt the rage rise before she could stop it, a wildfire tearing through her veins, burning away everything but the single, undeniable fact that Jeno had touched her. Had hurt her. Had taken her. Her nails dug into her palms, the rope biting deeper into her skin as she clenched her fists, as she forced herself to breathe, to think, to shove down the fury that threatened to consume her before she could use it.

Jeno crouched in front of them, leveling himself with her, his voice cutting through the thick, choking air with an infuriating, almost pleasant ease.

“Rise and shine, little sister.”

The words slithered between them, soft, taunting, soaked in amusement, like he was welcoming her to something she should have seen coming.

Giselle didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t give him a single thing.

Her face remained blank, carefully controlled, the same way it always had, the same way she had held herself in the presence of powerful men who thought they could shake her.

Jeno’s smirk widened, his gaze flicking back toward Y/N, the meaning behind it clear.

He wasn’t here just for Giselle.

He wanted to destroy what mattered to her.

"You didn’t think I’d let you have it all so easily, did you?"

Giselle didn’t blink, her stare piercing, frigid, the kind that had made men fold beneath her command, the kind that had built an empire, the kind that should have meant something.

But Jeno wasn’t like them.

He only smirked deeper, taking his time, dragging out the silence just long enough to let the tension dig in, let it settle, let them feel how utterly out of control they were.

Then, with the ease of a man who had already won, he spoke again.

"You didn’t think I wouldn’t find a way to hurt you back?"

His voice was softer this time, almost mocking.

And when his gaze flickered back to Y/N, the implication was clear.

Giselle’s breath barely made it past her lips, her entire body burning with the force of how much she wanted to tear through him, rip him apart, make him suffer.

Her fingers curled, the ropes biting into flesh, the sting barely registering past the searing, all consuming need to get to Y/N, to put herself between them, to erase that look from Jeno’s face before he could use it against her.

He leaned in slightly, voice dipping lower, the words sliding between the spaces they had no way to escape from.

“Let’s talk.”

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #aeri x reader #aespa giselle x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #giselle uchinaga x reader #giselle x fem reader #giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga x reader #a contract of silence

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hob28 · 10 months ago

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Marathi Typing for Students: Enhancing Skills for Academic and Professional Success

Introduction

In today's fast-paced digital world, mastering Marathi typing is increasingly becoming essential for students. Beyond just a skill, it opens doors to enhanced academic performance, better career opportunities, and improved personal efficiency. This blog explores why Marathi typing skills matter for students and how they can benefit from acquiring this valuable proficiency.

1. Importance of Marathi Typing Skills for Students

In educational settings where assignments, projects, and exams often require written communication, proficiency in Marathi typing becomes crucial. Being able to type efficiently in Marathi ensures that students can express their thoughts clearly and submit work promptly, contributing to their overall academic success.

2. Benefits of Learning Marathi Typing for Students

2.1 Academic Performance

Mastering Marathi typing significantly boosts academic performance by allowing students to complete tasks more quickly and accurately. This efficiency becomes particularly advantageous during exams or when deadlines are tight, giving students more time to focus on understanding and mastering the subject matter.

2.2 Career Readiness

For future career prospects, especially in Maharashtra and other Marathi-speaking regions, Marathi typing skills are invaluable. Many job roles require bilingual communication, and proficiency in Marathi typing enhances students' employability in fields such as administration, content creation, and customer service.

2.3 Personal Efficiency

Enhanced typing skills enable students to manage their study time more effectively. With faster typing speeds and fewer errors, they can accomplish more in less time, whether it's taking notes during lectures, researching online, or preparing reports and presentations.

3. Methods to Learn Marathi Typing for Students

3.1 Online Typing Courses

Online Marathi typing courses offer flexible learning options, allowing students to learn at their own pace. Platforms like TypingBaba and Lipikaar provide structured lessons and interactive exercises designed specifically for learners aiming to improve their typing proficiency in Marathi.

3.2 Typing Software and Apps

Dedicated typing software and applications provide engaging tools for students to practice Marathi typing. These tools often include typing games, speed tests, and progress tracking features, making learning both effective and enjoyable.

3.3 Classroom-Based Instruction

Some schools and educational institutions offer in-school typing classes or workshops. These classes provide a structured learning environment where students receive personalized guidance from instructors, helping them develop and refine their Marathi typing skills.

4. Tips for Students to Improve Marathi Typing Skills

4.1 Practice Regularly

Consistency is key to mastering Marathi typing. Students should dedicate regular practice sessions to build muscle memory and improve typing speed and accuracy gradually.

4.2 Focus on Accuracy

While speed is important, accuracy should not be compromised. Students should focus on typing correctly and minimizing errors, which helps in developing good typing habits.

4.3 Use Typing Games and Exercises

Engaging in typing games and exercises not only makes learning fun but also reinforces Marathi typing skills effectively. These interactive activities challenge students to improve their speed and accuracy while enjoying the learning process.

5. Resources and Tools for Students Learning Marathi Typing

5.1 Online Typing Platforms

Platforms like TypingBaba and Lipikaar offer comprehensive Marathi typing courses and practice modules. These platforms cater to students of all levels, providing a user-friendly interface and effective learning resources.

5.2 Typing Tutors and Courses

Specialized typing tutors and courses provide structured learning paths designed to enhance Marathi typing skills systematically. Students can benefit from modules that cover keyboard familiarity, typing techniques, and advanced typing exercises.

5.3 Typing Tests and Assessments

Regularly taking typing tests and assessments allows students to track their progress and identify areas for improvement. Many online platforms offer typing tests that simulate real-world typing scenarios, helping students gauge their typing speed, accuracy, and efficiency.

Conclusion

Acquiring Marathi typing skills equips students with a valuable asset that enhances their academic performance, career readiness, and personal efficiency. Whether pursuing higher education, preparing for future careers, or simply aiming to communicate effectively in Marathi, mastering typing skills is a worthwhile investment in their future success. Start learning Marathi typing today and unlock the potential for academic and professional growth.

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bouquetface · 7 months ago

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Vedic Observations 7:

Accuracy is influenced by the ENTIRE chart. This is general information for learners not a personal reading.

7th House ruler exalted in 11th House

An indicator the spouse will be the main breadwinner/provider. This is more likely if the planet is jupiter in cancer or mars in capricorn.

7th House ruler in 10th house

Partnerships and teamwork are important in your career. You may work with clients, you may have a business partner. This is one indicator of working with the spouse too.

Sun in 5th House

This can give interest in history and politics. You may get this interest from your father or another authority figure.

Depending on sign and aspects, these people can deeply need validation. The type to cry over a bad grade and be thrilled with good feedback from a teacher.

Mars conjunct Venus

Money/possessions are important in your long-term romantic relationships. Depending on the entire chart this will manifest in various ways. A few ways I have observed:

Cancer mars conjunct venus = Live-in partner sued the person after their breakup for a significant amount of money despite the couple never having been married.

Taurus mars conjunct venus = This person remained with their toxic spouse due to money related issues.

What is being activated after marriage:

Check how many planets are between your AK (highest degree) & DK (lowest degree). The themes of the planets in between will be activated after marriage - not all at once, more gradually.

Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter & Saturn.

EX: If AK is Sun and DK is Saturn. After marriage is when everything is activated for you. This can indicate a long lasting and early marriage. The marriage allows you to begin your life.

If AK is Jupiter and DK is Saturn. You have many trials and lessons to complete before you are able to marry the person for you. This can indicate a late marriage (this is only one indicator though). This can show many partners or experiences occur before finding the one for you.

If AK is Moon and DK is Venus. You may become more communicative and educated after marriage. If Mercury is debilitated in navamsa and lagna, this may not be the case.

EDIT: I am realizing this observation was a bit confusing to a lot of people. I would not worry about it. It is more advanced astrology which would require full charts for complete accuracy. Take it as casual entertainment.

Accuracy always depends on the entire natal chart AND navamsa. The house, aspects and signs of each planet will tell the full story.

#vedic astro observations #astrology observations #sun in 5th house #7th house ruler in 10th house #7th house ruler in 11th house #jupiter in cancer #mars in capricorn #upapada lagna #mars conjunct venus #sun atmakaraka #saturn darakaraka #moon atmakaraka #venus darakaraka

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lunardragon00 · 11 months ago

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The Boy is Mine (Yunho x Reader)

Eternal Sunshine Masterlist

f-boy!Yunho x College student!Reader

The boy is mine Watch me take my time I can't believe my mind The boy is divine

Y/N sighed as she walked into the crowded lecture hall, clutching her books tightly to her chest. College life was a whirlwind of assignments, parties, and the occasional drama—most of which seemed to revolve around one person: Jeong Yunho.

Yunho was known across campus for his striking looks and notorious playboy reputation. With his charming smile and confident swagger, he had managed to break countless hearts, leaving a trail of love-struck students in his wake. But Y/N was different. She wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking heartbreaker get the best of her.

“Hey, Y/N!” Yunho’s voice rang out as she took her seat. She glanced up to see him leaning against a desk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Hey, Yunho,” she replied coolly, not bothering to hide her disinterest. She knew his type all too well.

“Party this weekend at Sigma house. You coming?” he asked, sliding into the seat next to her. His proximity sent a ripple of excitement through the room, but Y/N remained unfazed.

“Maybe,” she said nonchalantly, flipping open her notebook. “Depends on my workload.”

Yunho grinned. “You work too hard. You should let loose a little. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. His persistence was oddly endearing, even if she wasn’t about to give in easily. “I’m sure you would. But I’m not interested in being another notch on your belt, Yunho.”

“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, Y/N.”

“Good,” she retorted, her smile widening. “Maybe it’ll teach you a lesson.” Yunho rolled his eyes and was about to make a retort, until the professor walked in to the room. Yunho lets out a defeated sigh and walks to his seat, leaving her on her own.

Y/N wasn't new to his behavior. She had known him since their freshman year, which had been a little over 2 years ago. She couldn't deny that he wasn't attractive, because he was, undoubtedly so. With his fluffy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, to everyone he was tall, dark, and handsome. For the few interactions she'd had with him in the past, he was actually pretty fun to hang out with. To be honest, if he didn't have the reputation with women that he did, she would've gone out with him a long time ago had he asked.

But now, things were a bit more complicated. Y/N had always been taught to not tolerate bullshit, no matter who it was coming from. She was a very head strong person, she never relied on anyone for almost anything. Some people admired her for that quality, some saw it as her down fall, which she could see it being a bad trait. So imagine her surprise when Yunho started to approach her more during the day.

While she was used to his presence, seeing that they ran in the same social circle, she wasn't used to him pursuing her. He was good, she'll admit that. Offering to walk her to her dorm, holding her bag or books for her even if it was only one, even gifting her flowers on her birthday last month. It was sweet, but she wasn't stupid. She'd heard the stories multiple times from a multitude of people. How he'd sweep girls off their feet, sleep with them for a period of time, and then drop then and go ghost.

As the weeks went by, Yunho’s advances continued, each more creative than the last. From surprise coffee deliveries to playful notes slipped into her textbooks, he seemed determined to win her over. And while Y/N enjoyed the attention, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.

“You’re relentless,” she said one afternoon as they walked across campus. Yunho had offered to walk her to her next class, and despite her better judgment, she had agreed.

“I know what I want,” he replied, his eyes locking with hers. “And I want you, Y/N.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “You don’t even know me.”

“Then let me get to know you,” he said, his tone sincere for once. “I’m not as bad as you think.”

“Alright,” she stopped walking and turned to face him. "prove it then. Prove to me that I'm not just another game to you." She challenged, her gaze steady.

“I will,” he promised, a determined glint in his eyes. He reached down, trying to hold her hand but Y/N quickly turned back and continued their walk.

"Oh come on," Yunho groaned, a light laugh escaping him. She turned around to face him again, continuing to walk backwards. "What did you expect Yunho," She laughs. "you've got to earn my affection."

Yunho’s grin widened. “Challenge accepted.” He sped up to catch up with her. When he did, he gently nudged her shoulder with his. "Fucking tease." The sound of loud laughter echoed through the parking lot.

Over the next few weeks, Yunho's approach shifted. Gone were the grand gestures and flashy attempts to win her over. Instead, he began to show up in the little moments, offering quiet support and genuine companionship. He listened when she talked about her day, remembered the small details she mentioned, and respected her boundaries without question. He’d leave a cup of her favorite coffee on her desk in the library with a simple note: For a hard worker. He’d text her reminders about study group sessions and offer to help with her assignments, but never in a way that felt overbearing or intrusive.

One day, Y/N was sitting in the campus café, buried in her textbooks, when Yunho slid into the seat across from her. He placed a neatly wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water in front of her.

“You’ve been here for hours,” he said, his voice gentle. “Thought you could use a break.”

Y/N looked up, surprised. “Thanks, Yunho. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he replied with a shrug, his eyes sincere. “You’re working hard. Just thought you could use some fuel.”

She took the sandwich, her heart softening slightly. “Alright, you get points for this one.”

As the days passed, Yunho continued to prove himself through his actions rather than words. He showed up for their shared classes on time, participated earnestly in group projects, and even began to attend study sessions he previously avoided. His presence was steady, and his demeanor was genuine.

One evening, after a particularly grueling study session, Yunho and Y/N found themselves sat on a bench overlooking the campus garden, Yunho turned to her with a thoughtful expression. “Tell me something about you that no one else knows.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden curiosity. “Why?”

“You said before that I didn't know you. I want to know you, the real you,” he replied softly.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut. I used to spend hours reading about space and dreaming of exploring the stars.”

Yunho smiled. “That’s amazing. Do you still dream about it?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But life got in the way, and I found other passions.”

He nodded, understanding. “It’s never too late to chase your dreams, you know.”

She smiled, appreciating his sincerity. “What about you, Yunho? What do you dream about?”

His expression turned serious. “I always dreamed of being a dancer, you know, like those Kpop Idols we see plastered on magazines and stuff. I took dance when I was younger, even did it during the first year of college." Y/N's eyes widened, shocked by the revelation.

"Wow, I didn't expect that. What made you stop?" She questioned. Yunho kept his gaze on the small water fountain in garden.

"School just got in the way, with the classes I was taking it just became too much. Sucks though, I really had fun doing it." Y/N nodded, understanding the sacrifices that came with balancing school and personal passions. “I get it. Sometimes life demands all our attention, and our dreams take a back seat.”

Yunho turned his gaze back to her, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination. “But, it’s never too late, right?”

“Right,” she agreed, a soft smile playing on her lips.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the soft rustling of leaves and distant sounds of students passing by creating a serene backdrop. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a shift in her perception of Yunho. The more she learned about him, the more she realized how much there was beneath his charming exterior.

Yunho cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know, I’ve never really talked to anyone about my dreams. People always see me as the carefree guy who doesn’t take anything seriously.”

“That’s because that’s how you present yourself,” she pointed out gently. “But I’m beginning to see that there’s more to you than that.”

He looked at her, his expression earnest. “And I want you to see all of me. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, but she wasn’t ready to let her guard down completely. “You’re making progress, Yunho. Keep it up.”

He grinned, his usual playful demeanor returning. “I will. And just so you know, I’m not giving up on you.”

She laughed softly. “I’m starting to believe that.”

As the third week rolled around, Yunho's persistence began to pay off. Y/N found herself looking forward to their interactions, her initial resistance slowly melting away. She started to see Yunho not as the campus playboy, but as someone who genuinely cared about her.

One Friday afternoon, Yunho approached her with a different kind of proposition. “There’s a new exhibit at the art museum this weekend. Would you like to go with me?”

Y/N looked at him, surprised by the thoughtful invitation. “An art exhibit? Not exactly your usual scene.”

“I thought it might be a nice change,” he said, his smile warm. “And I’d like to see it with you.”

She considered it for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Yunho. Let’s see this exhibit.”

That Saturday, they met outside the museum. Yunho was waiting for her, looking relaxed and excited. As they walked through the gallery, admiring the paintings and sculptures, Y/N found herself enjoying his company more than she had anticipated.

At one point, they stood in front of a particularly striking piece, a constellation of stars painted across a vast, dark canvas. Y/N felt a pang of nostalgia for her childhood dreams.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“It is,” Yunho agreed, his gaze fixed on her rather than the painting. “Just like you.”

She turned to him, her heart racing. For the first time, she saw the sincerity in his eyes, and it took her breath away.

“Yunho, I…” she began, but he cut her off gently.

“Hey, no rush,” he said softly. “I’m willing to wait for you to believe in me. Just know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As they continued to explore the exhibit, side by side, Y/N felt a new chapter beginning. She wasn’t ready to fully trust him yet, but she was willing to give him a chance. And maybe, just maybe, Yunho was worth the risk. As they made their way through the museum, Y/N decided to take the first risk. She reached for his arm, wrapping hers around it and walked closely beside him. Yunho eyes widened and eyebrows shot up at the action, looking down at her. A small smile crossed his features.

"Yeah, I didn't take you for a hand holder." Yunho's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"What the hell does that mean?" Y/N laughed, trying to keep quiet as to not disturb the families around them.

Yunho chuckled, leaning in closer so their conversation remained private. "I mean, you're always so independent and strong. I figured you wouldn't want to be seen with a guy like me, especially not holding hands."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh please, I'm just as capable of showing affection as anyone else. Plus, I figured you needed a little encouragement."

His smile grew, a genuine warmth spreading across his face. "Well, I appreciate it. It means a lot, coming from you."

They continued walking through the museum, their conversation flowing naturally. Y/N found herself sharing more about her life, her interests, and even some of her fears. Yunho listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and offering his own experiences in return.

As they approached a section of the museum featuring interactive exhibits, Yunho's eyes lit up. "Hey, look at this! Wanna try?"

Y/N followed his gaze to a virtual reality station where visitors could experience famous historical events. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Why not? Let's give it a shot."

They each donned VR headsets and were transported to a world of ancient civilizations and monumental moments in history. They laughed and marveled at the immersive experience, occasionally bumping into each other as they navigated the virtual environment.

When they finally removed their headsets, Y/N felt a sense of exhilaration. "That was amazing! I never thought I'd get to experience something like that."

"Me neither," Yunho agreed, his excitement matching hers. "I'm glad we did it together."

Y/N's heart swelled with a mix of emotions. She was beginning to see Yunho in a new light, and it was both thrilling and terrifying. She knew she had to protect herself, but she couldn't deny the growing connection between them.

As they exited the museum, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city. Yunho turned to her, his expression serious yet hopeful. "Y/N, I know I've made a lot of mistakes in the past, but I want you to know that I'm serious about this. About us. I don't want to be that guy anymore. I want to be better, for you."

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts. But as she looked into Yunho's eyes, she saw a sincerity that she couldn't ignore. With that, they walked back to campus together, side by side, their future uncertain but filled with possibilities. For the first time, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, Yunho was worth the risk.

"He is blowing smoke up your ass, Y/N, can't you see that?" Chaeyeon's voice was laced with concern as she sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Y/N stood in the small kitchen of their dorm, stirring a pot of soup on the stove. She sighed and put down the wooden spoon, turning to face her roommate.

"I thought that at first too, Chae, but I don't know anymore. He seems like he's serious," Y/N replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Chaeyeon looked up from her phone, her expression skeptical. "Yunho? Serious? This is the same guy who was seen with a different girl every week last semester. What makes you think he's changed?"

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, searching for the right words. "It's different with me. He's been showing up to classes, helping me with projects, even going to study sessions he used to avoid. And he shared something personal with me, something he said he hasn't told anyone else."

Chaeyeon's eyes narrowed. "And you believe that?"

"Yes, I do," Y/N said firmly. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can see it in his eyes. He's trying, Chae."

Chaeyeon sighed, setting her phone aside and standing up. She walked over to Y/N, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. You usually aren't the one to go for people like that, and I'm worried he's just saying what you want to hear."

"I appreciate that, really," Y/N said, giving her friend a small smile. "But I have to give him a chance. If he proves me wrong, then I'll deal with it. But if I don't give him a chance, I'll always wonder what if."

Chaeyeon studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright, but I'm keeping an eye on him. If he so much as makes you cry, I’ll be there with a baseball bat. Maybe wrap some barbed wire on go Negan on his ass."

Y/N laughed, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "Deal. Now, help me set the table. This soup is almost ready."

Later that evening, Y/N sat on her bed, flipping through her notes for an upcoming exam. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen to see a message from Yunho.

Yunho: Had a great time at the museum today. Hope you did too. Good luck with your studying!

A smile spread across her face as she typed a quick response.

Y/N: Thanks, Yunho. I had a great time too. Talk to you later?

Yunho: Definitely. Good night, Y/N.

She put her phone down, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. Maybe Chaeyeon was right to be cautious, but for now, Y/N was willing to trust her instincts. And her instincts told her that Yunho deserved a chance.

As she settled into bed, her thoughts drifted to their day at the museum, the way his eyes had softened when he looked at her, and the sincerity in his voice. She drifted off to sleep with a sense of hope, ready to see where this journey would take them.

Y/N was in the library, buried in her textbooks, when she overheard a conversation at the table next to her.

"Did you hear? Eileen’s been all over Yunho lately," one girl whispered to her friend.

Y/N’s heart sank. She tried to focus on her studies, but the words gnawed at her. Deciding she couldn't concentrate, she packed up her things and headed back to her dorm, her mind racing.

As soon as she entered the room, Chaeyeon looked up from her laptop. "Hey, you look stressed. What's up?"

Y/N sighed, dropping her bag onto her bed. "I heard some girls talking about how Eileen has been all over Yunho lately."

Chaeyeon's expression darkened. "That girl doesn’t give up, does she? Have you talked to Yunho about it?"

Eileen wasn't an unknown name. Her and Yunho had been an item in the past, one of his 'victims' if you want to call it that. They were the on again off again couple that were off longer than they were on. Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before she would enter the picture again.

"No, not yet. I don’t want to come off as insecure or clingy," Y/N admitted, running a hand through her hair. "But it’s bothering me."

Chaeyeon nodded in agreement with a concerned expression. "I get why you're hesitant, but you can't ignore this. It's better to talk to Yunho now before things escalate."

Y/N sighed, feeling torn between wanting to trust Yunho and her growing unease about Eileen's intentions. "You're right. I just... I don't want to be that girlfriend who's constantly questioning him."

"You're not. You're just being cautious, and that's okay," Chaeyeon reassured her. "Besides, if Yunho is serious about you, he'll understand why you're bringing this up."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N nodded. "Okay, I'll talk to him tonight."

That evening, Y/N met Yunho at a quiet corner of the campus cafe. The atmosphere was serene, with soft music playing in the background and the aroma of coffee lingering in the air. Yunho smiled warmly as she approached, pulling out a chair for her.

"Hey, Y/N. How was your day?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine interest.

Y/N sat down, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. "It was okay. Can we talk for a bit?"

"Sure, of course," Yunho said, his expression shifting to concern. "Is everything okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Y/N plunged into the conversation. "I overheard some girls talking in the library today. They mentioned that Eileen has been getting close to you again."

Yunho's brow furrowed slightly, his gaze searching hers. "Eileen? Yeah, she's tried to reconnect a few times, but I've made it clear that I'm not interested."

Y/N nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and lingering doubt. "I trust you, Yunho. I just... I wanted to hear it from you."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "I understand why you're asking, and I appreciate your honesty. You're the only one I want to be with, Y/N."

His words were reassuring, yet Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease entirely. "I know, it's just... Eileen has a history with you, and I can't help but worry."

Yunho squeezed her hand gently. "I get it. But trust me, she's not a threat to us. I'll handle it, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "Okay. Thank you for understanding."

Both of them sat in a comfortable silence. Yunho had already ordered their drinks and food so there was no point in getting up any time soon. Y/N, wanting a change of scenery, decided to take the initiative.

"Do you want to come to my dorm?" Yunho chokes on his drink, almost slamming it back down on the table, lightly coughing. Yunho's sudden coughing fit startled Y/N, and she reached out, concern etching her features. "Are you okay?"

He waved a hand, still recovering from the surprise. "Yeah, sorry. Just caught me off guard."

Y/N chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I guess that was a bit unexpected. But seriously, do you want to come to my dorm? It's quieter there, and we can hang out without all the noise."

Yunho cleared his throat, his expression thoughtful as he considered her offer. "Yeah, sure. I'd like that."

They finished their drinks and made their way to Y/N's dorm room. It was a cozy space with posters on the walls, a small bookshelf filled with textbooks, and a comfortable bed tucked in one corner. Y/N grabbed a couple of pillows from her bed and settled on the floor with Yunho, leaning against the wall.

"Sorry for the cramped space.," she said, smiling at him warmly.

Yunho returned her smile, his eyes softening. "No worries, thanks for inviting me. Your room is nice."

In her room, they talked for hours, sharing stories and laughing together. Y/N felt a sense of ease and comfort with Yunho, enjoying his company more than she had expected. As the evening wore on, they found themselves sitting closer, their knees brushing occasionally.

Yunho reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y/N, I really like being with you."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, warmth spreading through her chest. "I feel the same way, Yunho."

He leaned in closer, his gaze searching hers. "Can I kiss you?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. She nodded slightly, her eyes locked on his.

Yunho's lips met hers gently, a spark igniting between them. It was a soft, tender kiss filled with unspoken promises and a newfound connection. Y/N melted into the moment, savoring the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his actions.

When they finally pulled apart, they both were breathless, their gazes locked in silent understanding. Yunho whispered, "It would be wrong if we have sex now, right?."

"Not there quite yet buddy." she replied softly, a smile tugging at her lips. Yunho makes a wounded noise and slides his body down the wall.

"Oh god, it's official. I'm dying." Y/N couldn't help but laugh at Yunho's dramatic reaction. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, trying to suppress her amusement.

"Yunho, you're being ridiculous," she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with fondness. "I didn't mean it like that."

He peeked up at her from his dramatic slump against the wall, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, so you didn't just 'buddy' me to death?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "You know what I meant."

Yunho grinned, his earlier faux distress melting away. "Fine, fine. But seriously, I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Me too," Y/N agreed softly, her smile warm and genuine. "I like taking things slow."

Yunho nodded, his expression earnest. "Good. I want us to be sure about everything."

They sat together in comfortable silence for a moment, the earlier tension dissipating into a sense of closeness and understanding. Y/N leaned against the wall next to him, feeling grateful for their lighthearted banter and the depth of their connection.

"So, no more dramatic deaths?" she teased lightly.

Yunho chuckled. "I make no promises." Y/N lightly slaps his chest before they both erupt in laughter. They continued to talk and enjoy each other's company late into the night, their bond growing stronger with each shared moment.

In the morning, Y/N had woken up to a text tone going off. Blinking her eyes open, she sees the bag of chips lying on the floor next to 2 discarded blankets her and Yunho used last night when it got cold. She feels a weight on her stomach, looking down she sees Yunho's arm draped over her. He was still fast asleep, light snores left his lips and hair was all over the place. Y/N turned to face him, trying to fall back asleep before another text tone went off.

Internally groaning, she reached for her phone to silence it. Looking at the screen, she didn't see any recent messages like she assumed she would. After another text sounded off, she realized it was Yunho's phone. Not wanting to invade his privacy, she gently nudged him awake.

"Yunho," he groans, face digging into the pillow. Y/N nudges him again, gently patting his arm that was around her. "Baby your phones going off."

Yunho stirred awake at Y/N's gentle nudging, his face still half-buried in the pillow. He mumbled incoherently, his arm tightening instinctively around her before he fully registered her words.

"Hmm?" Yunho's voice was groggy as he lifted his head, blinking sleepily at her.

"Your phone," Y/N repeated softly, nodding towards the source of the noise.

Yunho followed her gaze and realized his phone was buzzing on the nightstand. He let out a sleepy grunt and reluctantly released his hold on Y/N to reach for it. Rubbing his eyes, he swiped to unlock the screen and glanced at the notifications.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly, his fingers fumbling to silence the alerts. "Probably just messages from the guys."

Y/N smiled warmly at him, her affection evident in her gaze. "It's okay. I just didn't want you to miss anything important."

Yunho set his phone back down and turned his attention back to her, his sleepy smile melting her heart. "Thank you, Y/N."

They lay there for a moment, basking in the quiet intimacy of the morning. Y/N shifted slightly, feeling Yunho's arm settle around her once more. She traced circles on his chest absently, her mind drifting as she watched his peaceful expression.

"I like waking up like this," Yunho murmured softly, his eyes fixed on her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, warmth spreading through her. "Me too."

They stayed intertwined in each other's arms, savoring the calm and comfort of the moment. At least, they were, until another text was sent to him.

"Are you sure it's Mingi and San? It seems important." Y/N comments, handing Yunho his phone. Yunho takes it, laying on his back as he opens the device. Y/N adjusted to the position, laying her head back onto his chest and arm hugging his waist.

"I think so, I didn't actually check who it was." Yunho's relaxed demeanor shifted slightly as he glanced at the screen of his phone. His brows furrowed imperceptibly, a hint of tension crossing his features before he composed himself. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the unexpected message.

Y/N, sensing his change in demeanor, looked up at him questioningly. She could feel the subtle shift in his body language beneath her, his muscles tensing slightly.

"Who is it?" she asked softly, her fingers gently tracing patterns on his chest.

Yunho sighed, his expression conflicted as he showed her the message. "It's Eileen."

Y/N's heart sank as she read the message over his shoulder. The words were casual yet suggestive, hinting at a desire to reconnect. She bit her lip, uncertainty gnawing at her.

"What does she want?" Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Yunho shrugged, a mix of frustration and resignation in his tone. "She's asking if we can meet up sometime."

Y/N took a deep breath, processing the information. She knew Eileen had been persistent in the past, but seeing it firsthand stirred up a mix of emotions. She tightened her arm around Yunho's waist, a silent gesture of reassurance and support.

"What are you going to do?" she asked softly, her gaze searching his.

Yunho met her eyes, his expression serious. "I'll tell her it's not happening."

Her heart warmed at his words, grateful for his honesty and commitment. She nodded slowly, trusting him to handle the situation.

"Thank you," she murmured, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

Yunho turned to meet her lips with his own, the kiss tender and reassuring. They held each other close, finding solace in the warmth of their embrace amidst the uncertainty that Eileen's message had brought.

As they lay there together, Y/N felt a renewed sense of trust and closeness with Yunho. She knew challenges would arise, but she also knew they could face them together. And in that quiet moment, she believed more than ever that their connection was worth fighting for.

She was starting to get annoyed with this Eileen chick. Ever since she spammed Yunho's phone that morning, it seems she can't go a single day without seeing her. One afternoon, Y/N was heading to the campus sandwich shop when she spotted Eileen sitting at a corner table, engrossed in her phone. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to approach her or not. Curiosity and a hint of apprehension drove her forward.

Y/N cleared her throat as she approached, trying to keep her tone neutral. "Hey, Eileen."

Eileen looked up, a polite smile gracing her features. "Oh, hey Y/N. How's it going?"

Y/N took a seat across from her, studying Eileen's composed demeanor. "It's going well. How about you?"

Eileen shrugged nonchalantly, though Y/N detected a flicker of something in her eyes. "Can't complain. So, how are things with Yunho?"

Y/N tensed slightly at the directness of the question but kept her composure. "Things are good. We're getting along."

"That's good to hear," Eileen replied casually, though her gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. "Yunho and I go way back, you know."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone guarded. "Yeah, I've heard."

Eileen leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "He's a great guy, but he can be a bit... unpredictable."

Y/N's jaw clenched subtly, resisting the urge to bristle at the implication. "I trust Yunho."

Eileen nodded, her smile tight. "Of course. Just... keep your eyes open, Y/N."

With that cryptic remark, Eileen excused herself, leaving Y/N to ponder her words. She couldn't shake the unease that settled in her gut, wondering what Eileen's intentions truly were. To make matters worse, she had also been pestering Yunho as well.

A few days after her interaction, Yunho found himself unexpectedly crossing paths with Eileen outside the campus library. She smiled brightly as she approached him, her demeanor friendly yet calculated.

"Hey, Yunho! Long time no see," Eileen greeted, her voice carrying a hint of flirtation.

Yunho nodded politely, his guard subtly rising. "Hey, Eileen. How have you been?"

"Oh, you know, surviving," she replied with a playful grin. "I heard you've been spending a lot of time with Y/N lately."

Yunho's expression softened as he thought of Y/N. "Yeah, we've been getting to know each other."

Eileen's smile faltered slightly, though she quickly masked it. "That's great. She seems nice."

"She is," Yunho affirmed, his tone firm yet courteous. "Look, Eileen, I appreciate you reaching out, but I think it's best if we keep things friendly."

Eileen's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, her facade slipping for a moment. "Are you sure about that, Yunho? You and I... we have something."

Yunho sighed softly, his patience wearing thin. "Eileen, that was a long time ago."

Her smile turned brittle as she nodded, a hint of disappointment flickering across her features. "I understand. Just know that I'm here if you ever change your mind."

With that, Eileen turned and walked away, leaving Yunho to wrestle with a mix of relief and lingering concern. He knew Eileen's persistence wouldn't fade easily, but he was determined to focus on the relationship he was building with Y/N.

"She is like a pest, as soon as you think you've gotten rid of the damn thing it pops back up again." Yunho and Y/N were sitting on the couch together, well, more like Y/N was sitting on the couch and Yunho sat on the floor between her legs. She was leaned forward and arms were wrapped around Yunho's shoulders as they talked with Chaeyeon.

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers absentmindedly playing with Yunho's hair as she listened to his comment. "Well, pests can be persistent. But don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

Chaeyeon, who was lounging on the opposite end of the couch, raised an eyebrow curiously. "What's going on? Pest problem?"

Yunho sighed dramatically, leaning back against Y/N's legs. "Eileen keeps trying to worm her way back into my life."

Y/N nodded in agreement, her expression thoughtful. "Yeah, she's been... persistent."

Chaeyeon frowned, crossing her arms. "That sounds annoying. What does she want?"

Yunho shrugged, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I don't know. She keeps hinting that we should hang out, catch up, that sort of thing."

Y/N squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "But he's made it clear he's with me now."

Chaeyeon nodded, understanding dawning on her face. "Got it. Well, just keep shutting her down. She'll get the hint eventually."

Yunho smiled gratefully at Y/N and Chaeyeon. "Yeah, I hope so, but I'm not sure. She's like Y/N," He glances back to look at her as she gives him a questioning look. "Stubborn as fuck."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at Yunho's playful jab, though she pretended to scowl as she swatted the back of his head lightly. "Watch it."

Yunho grinned mischievously, rubbing the spot where she had lightly hit him. "Just speaking the truth, babe."

Chaeyeon chuckled, enjoying the banter between them. "Well, if that's the case, she won't give up easily."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Great, now I have competition."

Yunho leaned back against her legs again, looking up at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Trust me, there is no competition."

She couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Smooth recovery."

Chaeyeon laughed, shaking her head. "You two are something else."

Yunho shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? We keep it interesting."

As they settled back into their comfortable position on the couch, Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for the support and playfulness Yunho brought into her life, even in moments of potential tension like this one with Eileen. She squeezed his shoulders affectionately, silently thanking Chaeyeon for being there as well.

Together, they were navigating the complexities of relationships, both past and present, with humor, honesty, and a steadfast commitment to each other. And as Y/N glanced down at Yunho's smiling face, she knew that whatever challenges they faced, they would face them together.

The bass thudded through Yunho's chest as he navigated through the pulsating crowd at the Sigma house party. He greeted familiar faces with a nod or a wave, his mind distracted by thoughts of Y/N. She had opted to stay home tonight, citing a need to catch up on studying, but Yunho couldn't shake the feeling that she was avoiding situations like these.

He found Mingi and San near the makeshift bar, surrounded by a throng of people vying for drinks. Mingi caught sight of him first, waving enthusiastically and pulling him into a bear hug.

"Yunho, buddy! You made it," Mingi shouted over the music, clapping him on the back.

Yunho grinned, exchanging a fist bump with San. "Wouldn't miss it. How's the party so far?"

San shrugged, his voice barely audible over the beat. "Same old, same old. Where's Y/N? Thought she was coming."

Yunho's smile faltered slightly at the mention of Y/N. "Ah, she decided to take a rain check tonight. Said she wasn't feeling up to it."

Mingi raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Everything okay with you two?"

Yunho hesitated, trying to brush off the concern. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. Just one of those nights, you know?"

San clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, you're here now. Let's make the most of it."

They ventured further into the party, Yunho gradually letting himself relax into the familiar chaos of college life. People danced, shouted conversations, and spilled drinks in equal measure. It wasn't long before Yunho found himself caught up in the rhythm, his worries momentarily forgotten.

As he made his way to the backyard for some fresh air, Yunho spotted Eileen across the room. She was leaning against a wall, her gaze scanning the crowd with a calculated intensity. Their eyes met briefly before she sauntered over, a sly smile curving her lips.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up," Eileen purred, her voice barely audible above the music.

Yunho chuckled lightly, a hint of wariness in his expression. "Hey, Eileen. Long time no see."

Eileen tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You've been avoiding me, Yunho."

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms defensively. "I've been busy. You know how it is."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I miss us, Yunho. We had something good."

Yunho sighed softly, shaking his head. "Eileen, that was a long time ago. We've both moved on."

Her smile turned sultry as she reached out to touch his arm, a subtle invitation in her gaze. "Have we, though? I see the way you look at me."

Yunho took a step back, his resolve hardening. "I'm with Y/N now, Eileen. It's not going to happen."

Eileen rolled her eyes and stood closer to him. "Yeah? And how long do you think that's gonna last Yunho? She doesn't know you, not like I do. You know, you sleep with all these different girls but every single time where did that lead you? Right back to me."

Yunho's jaw tightened as Eileen's words hit a nerve, stirring up old memories and doubts he had buried deep. He glanced around nervously, hoping no one was paying too much attention to their conversation.

"Eileen, that's not fair," he replied tersely, his voice low yet firm. "Y/N is different."

Eileen leaned in closer, her tone dripping with condescension. "Oh, please. You've said that before. What makes her so special?"

Yunho took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the rising tension. "She trusts me. She sees me for who I am now, not who I was."

Eileen scoffed softly, her gaze challenging. "And what if I told her about us? About all the times you came running back to me?"

Yunho's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of fear crossing his features. "You wouldn't."

Eileen smirked, enjoying the discomfort she was causing. "Try me, Yunho. You know I'm not one to be ignored."

Yunho glanced around again, feeling trapped by Eileen's persistence and the weight of his past mistakes. "Look, Eileen, I get it. But this isn't the place for this conversation."

Eileen's smirk widened, her gaze unwavering. "Fine. But remember, Yunho, I'm not going anywhere."

With that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd once more, leaving Yunho standing there with a knot in his stomach. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled over him. Deep down, he knew Eileen wouldn't give up easily, and he feared the consequences if she followed through on her threat.

Taking a shaky breath, Yunho resolved to talk to Y/N about Eileen and confront the situation head-on. He needed her trust more than ever now, and he wasn't about to let his past mistakes jeopardize their future together.

Yunho went to find his friends, informing them he was gonna call it early and head home. After their goodbyes, he headed straight for Y/N's dorm, wanting her comfort more than anything else in that moment. Yunho's footsteps echoed softly in the quiet corridors of the dormitory as he made his way to Y/N's room. His mind raced with thoughts of Eileen and the unsettling encounter at the party. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease, knowing Eileen's persistence could potentially unravel everything he had built with Y/N.

When he reached her door, Yunho hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He knocked gently, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. After a few moments, the door opened, revealing Y/N with a concerned expression.

"Yunho, hey," Chaeyeon greeted softly, her brow furrowing as she took in his serious demeanor. "Is everything okay?"

Yunho stepped inside without a word, closing the door behind him. He turned to face her, the weight of his worries evident in his eyes. "Is Y/N awake?"

Concern deepened on Chaeyeon's face. "Yeah I think so, I heard her TV still just a few minutes ago." Yunho nodded and headed to her room, gently knocking on the door. After a few moments, door opened.

"Yunho? I thought you would be at the party still?" She squinted her eyes at him, he can tell she was close to falling asleep moments before he showed up. "Shit, what time is it?" Before she walked away, he grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug. Y/N stood momentarily shocked before holding him, concern etched her faces when she pulled back and looked at his face. She pulled him fully inside her room, shutting her door, and led him to sit on her bed.

She sat beside him, reaching out to grasp his hand reassuringly. "What happened?"

Yunho took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "Eileen was at the party tonight. She... she approached me."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, her grip tightening on his hand. "What did she want?"

He looked down, his voice quiet but resolute. "She... she's not giving up, Y/N. She tried to insinuate things about us, about my past. She even threatened to... to tell you."

Y/N's expression softened with understanding as she gently squeezed his hand. "Yunho, I trust you. Whatever happened in the past, it's in the past. You're with me now."

Yunho looked up at her, relief flooding through him at her words. "I know, but... I just.... I don't want her causing trouble for us."

Y/N nodded reassuringly, her thumb stroking his hand soothingly. "Hey relax. We'll deal with this together, okay?"

Yunho nodded, a grateful smile touching his lips. "Okay."

They sat together in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. Yunho felt a surge of gratitude for Y/N's unwavering support and understanding. Despite the uncertainty of Eileen's intentions, he knew that facing this challenge together with Y/N by his side was the only way forward.

"I'm here for you, Yunho," Y/N said softly, breaking the silence. "No matter what."

Yunho leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, Y/N."

As they held each other close, Yunho felt a sense of peace settle over him. "Can I stay here tonight?" He asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful bubble she created for him.

Y/N smiled warmly, her heart swelling with affection for Yunho. "Of course you can stay."

Yunho's expression softened with gratitude as he settled in beside her on the bed. They lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, finding comfort and solace in the presence of one another. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the dorm's ventilation system, creating a serene atmosphere that eased the tension from Yunho's shoulders.

"I'm sorry for bringing this into your space," Yunho murmured after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N gently brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her touch tender. "You don't need to apologize, Yunho. Besides, I kind of anticipated some drama to come along."

He nodded, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of relief and adoration. "Thank you for understanding."

Y/N smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. "Always."

They stayed intertwined in each other's embrace, finding comfort and reassurance in their closeness. For Yunho, being with Y/N brought a sense of calm he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm going." Her answer was final, her tone said it all. Yunho dropped his head in defeat, knowing it was a losing battle when she made up her mind. He dragged his hand down his face, looking into her eyes once more.

"You don't have to, I can-" but he was cut off once more.

"Nope, I'm going. It's done, my decision is final." Yunho sighed, feeling torn between gratitude for Y/N's determination and worry about what might unfold at the party. He knew Y/N's strength and resolve could handle Eileen, but he also feared the potential confrontation.

"Okay," he conceded reluctantly, knowing it was futile to argue further once Y/N had made up her mind. "Just promise me you'll be careful,"

Y/N nodded firmly, her expression resolute. "I will-" Yunho shakes a finger at her. "No no no, careful as in you promise to not cuss her out in front of half the student body."

Y/N chuckled softly, understanding Yunho's concern. "Okay, fine. I promise I won't cause a scene."

Yunho sighed with a mixture of relief and apprehension. "Thank you. Just... be yourself, but maybe tone down the fierceness a notch?"

She grinned, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'll do my best."

With a nod, Yunho leaned in to kiss her forehead gently. "Alright then, I'm gonna start getting ready once class ends. I'll pick you up at 8 and we'll go together."

Y/N smiled warmly, feeling touched by his support. "Sounds good. I'll see you later then." With a quick kiss goodbye, they parted ways. As she was walking back to her dorm, seeing as her classes were finished for the day, she paused. Did she have anything to wear?

Later that evening, she was doing some finishing touches to her looks. She decided she wanted to keep it simple, so she put on a cute olive green strapless top and light wash destroyed shorts. Y/N decided to keep her hair down, though she kept a hair tie on her in case it got hot. With a gold pair of hoops in and a set of gold necklaces adorning her neck, once she finished her makeup she was ready to go.

A knock came to her bedroom door, Chaeyeon's voice echoed through. "Y/N, your boy toy is here." Y/N rolled her eyes before opening the door. She sent a glare towards her friend, "Classy Chae, real classy. I'll be there in a second, I'm almost done."

Y/N took a final glance in the mirror, smoothing down her top and adjusting her earrings before heading to the door. She found Yunho waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall with a smile on his face. His dark jeans and fitted black shirt contrasted with her more casual attire, but they complemented each other perfectly.

"Hey," he greeted warmly as she approached.

"Hey yourself," she replied playfully, stepping closer to him. "Ready to face the party?"

Yunho chuckled, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Only if you're by my side."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her smile widening. "Always."

They walked together to the party venue, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and music echoing through the halls. Yunho kept a protective arm around her shoulders as they navigated through the crowd, exchanging nods and greetings with familiar faces along the way.

Inside, the party was in full swing, lights flashing and people mingling. Yunho guided Y/N towards a quieter corner where they could catch their breath and talk.

"You look amazing," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her.

"Thanks," she replied, feeling a warm blush spread across her cheeks. "You don't look too bad yourself."

Yunho grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Let's grab some drinks. What are you having?"

Y/N considered for a moment before answering. "Just a beer is fine for now."

He nodded and headed towards the makeshift bar, leaving Y/N to observe the partygoers around her. She spotted familiar faces from their classes and social circles, exchanging nods and smiles as she scanned the room.

As Yunho returned with their drinks, Y/N took a sip of her beer, feeling the buzz of the party sink in. They chatted and laughed together, enjoying the music and occasional dance moves from their friends. San and Mingi had shown up a few minutes later, joining them once they made their rounds with everyone. Yunho kept a watchful eye on Y/N, subtly guiding her away from any potential encounters with Eileen.

"Hey guys," she greeted warmly, glancing between Yunho and his friends. "Having fun?"

Mingi grinned, pulling her into a friendly side hug. "Always, especially with you around, Y/N."

San chuckled, nudging Yunho. "You better keep an eye on this one, Yunho. She's about to steal the show."

Yunho couldn't help but smile at Y/N, his worries momentarily easing with her presence. "Yeah, she always does."

Y/N glanced around, sensing the tension in the air. "Everything okay?"

Yunho hesitated, then decided to be honest. "Eileen's here. I saw her earlier. Just... be careful, okay?"

Y/N nodded solemnly, her gaze meeting Yunho's with determination. "I will. Don't worry."

With a reassuring squeeze of his hand, Y/N turned to Mingi and San, engaging in light-hearted banter to lift the mood. After a while, Y/N excused herself to use the restroom, leaving Yunho with the boys briefly. As she made her way through the crowd, she caught sight of Eileen across the room, chatting with a group of friends. Their eyes met briefly, and Y/N felt a surge of determination.

She entered the restroom, took a deep breath, and gathered her thoughts. She wasn't here to start a fight, but she was ready to assert herself if needed.

Back with the boys, Yunho watched as she parted from them, but turned back to Mingi and San, trying to maintain a casual demeanor despite the tension prickling at the edges of his awareness.

"So, how's your semester going, Yunho?" Mingi asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Yunho shrugged nonchalantly, scanning the room once more before replying. "It's been alright. Just trying to stay on top of everything, you know?"

San nodded, sipping on his drink thoughtfully. "Yeah, I hear you. Midterms are coming up soon, gotta start hitting the books."

Before Yunho could respond, a familiar voice interrupted them from behind. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Yunho and his entourage."

Yunho tensed at the sound of Eileen's voice, turning to see her approaching with a coy smile. San and Mingi exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the tension.

"Eileen," Yunho acknowledged tersely, his guard up.

She ignored his curt tone, sidling up closer to Yunho with a flirtatious smile. "You're looking good."

Yunho forced a polite smile, stepping slightly away from her. "Thanks. Look, Eileen, this isn't really a good time-"

"Oh, come on, Yunho," Eileen purred, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. "Can't we catch up? I've missed you."

San and Mingi exchanged knowing glances, silently urging Yunho to handle the situation carefully. Yunho shifted uncomfortably under Eileen's gaze, acutely aware of the potential for drama.

"I think we've caught up enough," Yunho replied firmly, gently removing her hand from his arm. "I'm here with Y/N tonight."

Eileen's smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "Y/N, huh? I saw her earlier. She seems... determined."

Yunho bristled slightly at the implication in Eileen's tone. "She knows what she wants."

Eileen leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And what about you, Yunho? Are you sure she's what you want?"

Yunho's jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. "Yes, I'm sure."

Eileen sighed dramatically, leaning back with a calculated smile. "Well, while she's gone, how about a dance. Come on, just one, promise I'll give you back to her once we're done."

Yunho felt his muscles tense as Eileen's hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him towards the dance floor despite his resistance. He glanced back at Mingi and San, his expression pleading for understanding, but they could only watch helplessly as Eileen led him away.

The pulsing beat of the music surrounded them as Eileen moved closer, her body pressing against his in a way that made Yunho uncomfortable. He tried to keep a polite distance, but Eileen seemed determined to disregard his boundaries.

"Come on, Yunho," she coaxed, her voice low and persuasive. "You used to love dancing. Just one dance won't hurt."

Yunho sighed inwardly, feeling trapped in the situation. He knew dancing with Eileen was a bad idea, especially with Y/N likely to return from the restroom soon, but he also didn't want to escalate the tension by refusing outright.

Reluctantly, Yunho allowed Eileen to guide him into a dance, trying to keep a polite distance while still complying with her insistence. He kept his movements reserved, avoiding any intimate contact and keeping his gaze fixed on the crowd around them, hoping to signal to Y/N that he was not willingly participating in this dance.

Eileen, however, seemed oblivious to his discomfort, smiling up at him as if they were sharing a romantic moment. Yunho's mind raced with thoughts of how to extricate himself from the situation without causing a scene. He needed to find a way to end this dance quickly and return to Y/N's side before things escalated further.

As Yunho awkwardly danced with Eileen, keeping his movements stiff and his gaze drifting to the crowd, he felt a surge of relief when he spotted Y/N making her way back from the restroom. He glanced towards Mingi and San, who were watching the scene unfold with concern evident on their faces.

Y/N approached them, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Hey, where's Yunho? I thought he was with you guys."

Mingi exchanged a quick glance with San before explaining, "He got pulled away by Eileen. She dragged him to dance with her."

Y/N's eyes narrowed, her jaw tensing with restrained anger. She took in a deep breath, trying to steady herself before responding. "Okay," she said tersely. "Thanks for letting me know."

Without another word, Y/N turned and began weaving through the crowd towards where Yunho and Eileen were dancing. Her steps were purposeful, her posture radiating determination as she closed the distance.

Yunho caught sight of Y/N approaching, his heart sinking with worry over how she might react. He met her gaze, silently pleading for understanding as Eileen continued to dance beside him, oblivious to Y/N's approach.

Eileen noticed Y/N's approach as well, her expression shifting from amusement to curiosity. She leaned in closer to Yunho, her voice low and teasing. "Looks like your current toy isn't too happy about us dancing. Trouble in paradise?"

Yunho gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "She's not my toy, Eileen," he said firmly, his voice tinged with frustration.

Eileen's smile widened, a hint of triumph in her eyes. "Really? Could've fooled me."

Before Yunho could respond, Y/N reached them, her presence commanding attention. She stood beside Yunho, her gaze locking onto Eileen with unwavering intensity. Without a word, Y/N extended her hand towards Yunho.

Yunho blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard by Y/N's unexpected gesture. With no hesitation, he placed his hand in hers, silently acknowledging her silent cue.

With deliberate grace, Y/N pulled Yunho away from Eileen's grasp, guiding him back towards the quieter corner of the room they had occupied earlier. The movement was subtle yet powerful, a clear statement of ownership and solidarity. Before they got too far, Yunho felt his other arm be pulled back, making him yank Y/N backwards.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't get to just drag him off like that," Eileen snapped, her voice rising with irritation. She grabbed Yunho's arm, attempting to pull him back towards her.

Yunho resisted her pull, his expression hardening. "Let go, Eileen," he said firmly, his voice laced with frustration.

Eileen's eyes flashed with defiance. "No, Yunho. We were having fun. Why are you letting her ruin everything?"

Y/N stood her ground beside Yunho, her posture unwavering despite Eileen's confrontation. "He's with me now, Eileen. You need to accept that."

Eileen scoffed, her gaze flickering between Yunho and Y/N. "Oh please, like he's never gone back to me before. You're just a phase, sweetheart."

Yunho's jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. "Enough, Eileen. This isn't about you or me anymore. It's over." Elieen looked as if she was going to throw a temper tantrum. Y/N took a step closer to her, keeping her voice low as to not cause a scene.

"Face it, you lost. He's not yours anymore, he's mine. Now let go of my boyfriend." Y/N forcefully removes her hold from Yunho's arm and gently nudges him to start walking back to San and Mingi. Eileen's face flushed with anger at Y/N's assertive words. She opened her mouth to retort, but Y/N had already turned around and walked away. With a frustrated huff, Eileen finally relented, shooting one last glare at Yunho and Y/N before turning on her heel and storming off into the crowd.

Yunho turned to Y/N, gratitude and admiration shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand.

Y/N smiled warmly, her own tension melting away as they rejoined San and Mingi. "We make a good team," she replied softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Yunho's cheek.

San and Mingi exchanged knowing glances, a mixture of relief and pride evident on their faces. "Let's get out of here," Mingi suggested, gesturing towards the exit.

Yunho nodded in agreement, leading Y/N through the crowd towards the door. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, a sense of closure settled over them. They walked back to Y/N's dorm together, San and Mingi walked ahead goofing off with one another. Meanwhile, Yunho and Y/N stayed behind, each had one arm wrapped around the other as they walked.

"So....boyfriend huh?" Yunho teased her, lightly bumping his hip into hers. Y/N smiled softly,

"Yeah, boyfriend." She confirmed. Yunho stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. "What?" She asked.

"That's it? No smart comment, no back tracking, none of it?" Y/N chuckled, the sound light and warm in the quiet of the night. She stopped walking as well, turning to face Yunho with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Well, what can I say? You've won me over," she replied, her tone teasing yet sincere. "You're stuck with me now."

Yunho grinned, his heart swelling with affection. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and intimate. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he murmured softly.

They stood there for a moment, the night air crisp around them, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company. The streetlights cast a soft glow over them as they resumed walking, their steps falling into an easy rhythm. Yunho glanced at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, does this mean I get to meet your friends officially now? I'm ready to face the squad."

Y/N chuckled, nodding in agreement. "If you can handle Chaeyeon then yeah, I think they'll be eager to meet you, especially after tonight." Just as Yunho leaned down to kiss her, the sound of a yelp and thud disrupted them.

"Damnit San. Yo Yunho, come help me man." Looking to the boys, San was somehow now sprawled out on the ground and laughing in hysterics. Yunho sighed and looked down to you again.

"We're coming back to this, promise." He gave her a quick peck on the lips before running to help Mingi lift San up.

"San, you lightweight," Yunho teased with a grin, but there was genuine concern in his voice as he steadied his friend. "You okay?"

San nodded, still chuckling. "I'm good, I'm good. Just need a minute to get my bearings."

Mingi rolled his eyes playfully. "You're lucky we're here to babysit you."

next story coming soon......

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