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tteokdoroki · 10 months ago

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VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less.

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu.

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard.

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend.

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him.

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust.

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day.

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her.

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned.

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl.

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call.

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul.

but you were never strong when it came to him.

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1 - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him.

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood.

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call.

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord.

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?”

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to.

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you.

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him.

voicemail #2 - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.”

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together and just…take in the quiet.

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk’?’

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care.

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years.

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace.

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.”

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.”

“yeah?”

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real.

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood.

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.”

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.”

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.”

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back.

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten.

voicemail #3 - “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect.

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.”

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat.

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.”

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.”

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep.

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest.

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy.

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart.

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.”

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone.

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold.

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?”

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice.

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up.

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness.

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.”

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!”

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left.

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!”

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?”

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!”

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening.

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.”

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend.

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you.

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person.

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot.

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth.

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!” the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit.

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets.

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm.

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…”

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist.

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free.

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.”

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck.

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine.

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss.

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length.

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit.

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together.

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.”

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.” you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!”

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all.

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.”

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other.

2K notes · View notes

jaylver · 2 years ago

Text

WIN ONE WIN ME — L.HS

SYNOPSIS: who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!heeseung x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance

WARNING(S): profanities, violence (fight), suggestive content (no smut), heeseung is a retired fuckboy turned good + y/n is a party goer, drinking, partying, jake being a footballer aka a soccer player ( NOT american football )

WC: 14k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: aaaa it's finally here ! hope y'all enjoyed it and PLEASE let me know how it was, give me some feedbacks and thoughts, it's been A LONGG WHILE since i've been writing so i'm worried i'll be crusty. anyway, enjoy !

part 1 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

“I'M SO NOT HAVING FUN ANYMORE,”

Friday nights were always preoccupied by hockey and hockey only. It has never changed ever since Yunjin, your best friend, gave you an introduction to the school’s ice hockey team. Being the massive sports fan you were, you obviously got hooked on watching their games live. But there were downsides to being a fan which includes witnessing the team losing.

You swore you were already in a foul mood that day, courtesy to your professor and shitty customers, you found yourself seeking solace in the hockey game, which turned sour almost instantly. Just your luck for the day, huh?

“It’s just the first period, Y/N,” Yunjin sighed, glancing up at the jumbotron, wincing a little at the scoreline. They were currently 3 goals down and Yunjin's reassurance didn't help at all.

“I suppose so,” you replied glumly.

The second period rolled by in a flash, but there wasn’t much of a positive outcome either. The team managed to score two goals, but the opponents out performed them and scored one more goal, continuing their lead.

You groaned loudly, along with many other disappointed students. 15 minutes of intermission ended rather quickly, bringing everyone back to reality.

“Oh come on, score already!” you shouted out in irritation, stirring other students to yell out in agreement as well.

The game was going slow and your patience was eventually growing thin. The clock was ticking, meaning the game was about to end soon with the team losing tragically. You shook your head in defeat, wrapping an arm around Yunjin’s shoulder and placing the other on your hip.

“For fuck’s sake, score already, idiots!” you yelled out.

Just when you did so, someone skated by, his head turned to look at you, meeting your eyes for only a brief second before disappearing into a sea of hockey players. You blinked. Did that just happen? You whipped your head to find Yunjin staring back at you, as if asking the same question.

“Did–”

“That–”

The two of you paused.

“Yeah,” you both said in unison, returning your attention back to the game.

As expected, the game unfortunately ended with a defeat for the home team. You and Yunjin decided to leave the arena immediately since it was already getting late, but you two also made sure to have a quick stop at the cafeteria to get some pizza before continuing the journey back to the dorms.

“I heard someone’s throwing a party soon,” Yunjin said through a mouth full of pepperoni pizza.

“Who is that ‘someone’?” you wiped your hand clean of pizza grease, then threw yourself on Yunjin’s bed, causing her to let out a grunt.

“That made me choke and I would’ve died. I don’t want my cause of death to be something related to pizza,” she grumbled, closing the pizza lid and taking the napkin you handed her.

“I thought you loved pizza?” you blinked innocently, flashing her your best smile and she threw you a dirty look.

“Think we got a little side tracked,” Yunjin mumbled thoughtfully. “If I’m not wrong, it was by one of those football chads? Was it Jake?”

“Jake might play football but he’s so not a chad,” you argued, unknowingly defending said boy.

Jake sim was, in fact, another popular athlete in your school who unsurprisingly turned out to be another playboy. You remembered the small heartbreak you had when you discovered his true identity, secretly wishing he was like any other non-fuckboy guy in the campus. But life’s unfair sometimes and somehow, that didn’t stop you from being acquainted with that golden retriever-like boy.

“You’re only saying that because he gives you free booze and free passes to football games,” Yunjin raised an eyebrow at you and you feigned ignorance. “Anyway, I think it’s that Yeonjun guy who’s throwing that party. He’s that rich kid, remember?”

“Yeah, I do. I saw him multiple times at games,”

“Didn’t he flirt with you?”

“Correction, he tried. Luckily Jake was there to stop him or else I would’ve given him a black eye,” you frowned.

“Would’ve loved to see that happen,” Yunjin shrugged while you narrowed your eyes at her.

“You’re praying on my downfall,”

“Never. Also, are we going to talk about that hockey player staring deeply into your soul just now?”

You rolled your eyes at her words. “I don’t think I would count 2 seconds anything—”

“Of course it does! Have you seen those love at first sight tropes in romcoms?”

“I think you watched too many of them, Jen,” you squeezed her cheek and she slapped your hand, deadpanning at you. “Who is he anyway?”

“If I’m not wrong, he’s number one, Lee Heeseung, the captain. I think he’s in your English class too? Ring a bell?” Yunjin raised an eyebrow at you.

“I think I do remember him. He’s the one with fangirls lining outside, right?” Yunjin nodded at your words and you laughed, thinking back to the time where your professor had to chase a group of girls away before class started. Why? Because of Lee Heeseung’s sheer presence.

“Let’s not forget his messy hookups. Yikes,” Yunjin shuddered at the thought, suddenly rubbing her chin with a small frown. “Don’t you think we’re a bit uneducated when it comes to their players?”

“I mean,” you hummed, nodding a little. “I guess you’re right, we’re always there for the game and some beers and we barely bothered to find out which player is which,”

“We should pull up their Instagram profiles next game,” Yunjin suggested with a wink.

“Oh, I think you’ll definitely be on it,”

“Obviously,” Yunjin smirked. “Anyway, up for a facemask?”

You huffed, a small smile appearing on your face. “You know I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“THIS IS SUCH A TYPICAL CHAD THROWN KIND OF PARTY,”

You found yourself complaining once more as you and Yunjin entered a big house. The living room was basically filled to the brim, along with loud music booming throughout the room and the smell of alcohol invaded your nostrils, this was pure hell. You turned to look at your best friend, silently cursing at her for bringing you here. Yunjin gave you her typical shrug as though she had read your thoughts, dragging you away from the vicinity.

"It's Yeonjun, what did you expect," Yunjin hissed, taking you further into the house.

"I also can’t believe you put me in this slutty dress,” you groaned. At this point, you were practically pulling your dress down every ten seconds from the way it kept riding up and you started getting beyond irritated by it.

“If not, you’ll turn up in your casual crop tops and denim shorts,” she shook her head in disapproval. “I can’t let that happen, not when there's rich guys here,”

"I'm here for a party, not to choose my next rich bachelor," you said in distaste, the last thing you wanted was a frat boy. “So, what are we going to do now?” you asked, holding tightly onto Yunjin’s hand as if your life depended on it.

“Enjoy ourselves, duh? I’ll go get some drinks. Sprite for you?”

You nodded, a little bummed out that you were missing out on some good booze since somebody, aka you, had to be responsible and drive back to the dorms without risking getting pulled over. You were already a broke college student, a fine would definitely not help your case.

Now here you are, stuck helplessly in the middle of a party with people you don’t know. Great. You thought about the possibilities that could've been if you decided to stay at home instead of leaning against a wall in a skimpy black dress and it had you groaning internally.

It was then the universe had heard your pleas of boredom and decided on some ‘fun’, except that ‘fun’ consisted of someone’s back bumping into you and their drink splattering all over onto your dress. You jumped in surprise and the boy who was practically pushed onto you had let out a small “oof” before fully realising what he had done.

“I’m so sorry,” he placed his cup aside and picked up some napkins from a table nearby. For a split moment, he was about to wipe your dress, then he paused, turning flustered when he realised what he was about to do, and instead, handed the napkins to you.

You gently dabbed the napkins on your soaked dress, a frown on your face as you felt the sticky substance stick to your skin uncomfortably. “It’s fine, you didn’t mean it anyway,”

You looked up from your dress, finally meeting his eyes. He blinked, seemingly trying to register who you were.

“It’s … you,”

“Me?” you pointed at yourself, a little dumbfounded at his words.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,”

That’s when it hit you. The very same eyes that stared back at you during the hockey game, the one that Yunjin had told you about. “Lee Heeseung?”

He resembled a bambi, his large innocent brown eyes gazing back at you, a look of curiosity behind them. He had a tall stature, his hair covering his forehead and it was styled plainly, not to mention his loosely buttoned up shirt clinging comfortably onto his frame. Now you understand why Yunjin said he has fangirls, you were shamefully about to be one too.

“Yeah … that’s me. What about you? Why’re you here?”

“Do you … recognize me?” you cringed a little at the memory of you practically cussing his team out, praying he would somehow forget it all.

“How could I not? You’re from English right? Shakespeare presentation, eh?” Heeseung recalled and you nodded, impressed that he remembered something from so long before, but most importantly, he remembered you.

“But of course, how could I forget, you’re also the person cussing us out on Friday too. I’m charmed, actually,” he chuckled nonchalantly as though it was nothing, but you, on the other hand, panicked a little and eyes only widened in a mix of horror and embarrassment.

Heeseung seemed to notice the panic in your eyes, waving his hands in reassurance. “Don’t worry though, I thought it was funny,” At his words, your shoulders relaxed, breathing out a sigh of relief.

You let out a nervous laugh. “You guys did your best. There’s always a next time,”

“Right,” he nodded, then averted his gaze back to your dress, instantly coming back to reality as he remembered the current problem in front of his face. He removed his jacket in a flash, carefully placing it over your shoulders. The sudden proximity had you gasping quietly, the waft of his cologne infiltrating your senses.

He was close, so so agonisingly close. A wave of shock passed through your body as you felt his gentle touch, almost feather-like as it lasted only just a second, but now with his hugging your body, you could finally breathe an air of comfort once warmth engulfed you.

“Sorry about your dress,” he pulled away, flashing you a genuine apologetic smile. “I thought the least I could do was give you my jacket,”

“No worries, you didn't do it on purpose anyway, it’s not your fault,” you assured him, being a little self aware that numerous wandering eyes were now on you and the campus’ popular hockey team captain. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Actually,” Heeseung started, “I can borrow one of my friend’s shirts so that you can change? I don’t think it’s a good idea walking around like that, plus my friend lives in this frat house anyway,”

“If you insist,” you gave in, not wanting to reject his help as he seemed so keen.

You silently followed Heeseung through the crowd of bodies, trying your hardest to not get swallowed with the way people were shoving around. Heeseung noticed you lagging behind and smoothly took hold of your hand, pulling you closer to him. You didn’t say much, letting him guide you up the stairs into someone’s room.

You glanced around the room. From the way it was decorated with random posters, sports magazines stacked on the bedside table and dirty clothes littered the floor, you were instantly convinced that this room belonged to a frat boy.

Heeseung surprisingly continued to keep his hand in yours, using the other to dig through a pile of clothes until he found an oversize shirt and a pair of pants. “Here,” he handed you the clothes, finally letting go of your hand, stepping away with his hands in his pockets. “I think all the bathroom’s full so it’s best to just change here,”

“You think so?”

“I know so, I’ll leave it up to your imagination to think about whatever that happens in there,”

“Right …” you faltered at his comment, the two of you remained staring at one another. That’s when you cleared your throat, fumbling with your clothes. “I would appreciate it if you turned around … unless you want a show?”

“For free? I can't say no, can I?”

“You wish. Now turn around,”

Heeseung shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face as he threw his hands up in defence and faced away. You stood behind him, cheeks flared while you practically yanked your skimpy black dress off. Yunjin would not be happy knowing she’ll have to do laundry.

You reached over to the back of your dress, practically yanking forcefully onto the zip that was unwilling to budge even for a bit. God, why me? Why now? Internally conflicted, you didn’t know whether to bear the shame and ask Heeseung for help or to just stay silent. But to your luck, the zip was stuck no matter how you pulled it.

“Heeseung?”

He hummed in response.

“I need your help,” you swallowed, trying your best to not shrivel up and dig a grave in that moment. “My zip is stuck.”

Momentary silence filled the air. It seemed Heeseung, too, was having some internal conflict. In a second, you heard shuffling behind you, feeling the warmth of his body close as his fingers reached for your zip, his other hand on your waist. You felt his fingertips grazing against your bare skin as he dragged the zipper down, hearing a faint gulp from him. You squeezed your eyes shut, swearing to never come to parties again.

“You’re good to go,” he whispered, coughing awkwardly.

“Thanks,” you met his eyes in the reflection of the small mirror placed on top of a dresser in front of you. Realisation seemed to hit him and he averted his gaze, taking a look around the room instead.

You practically yanked the dress off, pulling the shirt over your head and the pants on, stumbling a little from the sudden hit of nervousness. Could it be his presence that made you nervous? You hated this feeling.

“I’m done,” you declared, suddenly feeling the tension in the air.

“So, I can look now?” Heeseung joked and you rolled your eyes, but smiled at him.

“Keep your eyes closed forever then,” you bumped his shoulder, sitting down on the bed.

“Should we stay here instead?” he suggested and you narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion, to which he scoffed. “Of course no funny business, who do you think I am?”

“Playboy Lee Heeseung, no?”

He groaned. “That’s what people think of me even though it’s completely false,”

“You do have fangirls, don’t you?”

“But I don’t date them, do I?” he retorted. “I don’t even go to parties much these days, coach has been up my ass,”

“Sucks to be you,”

Heeseung scoffed, turning to look at you with a question in mind. “You’re a big hockey fan?”

“Ever since I was a kid. Why?”

“I notice you’re always there every game night with your friend,”

“So, I’ve caught your attention?”

“A pretty girl like you surely wouldn’t go unnoticed in my eyes,” he was close now, a challenging glint in his eyes as his gaze fell to your lips from time to time.

“You’re funny, Hee,” you couldn’t resist smiling.

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes met yours, a sly grin on his face. “About your dress, I mean,”

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing damn well what lies in his words. Maybe he was just like every other campus athlete, but at that moment, you didn’t seem to care, your interest only increasing and you couldn’t tell if this was his plan all along.

You thought about his question for a moment, pursing your lip. “How about you win the next game? I think that’ll help a lot,”

Heeseung nodded thoughtfully. “If I do, can I get your number too?”

“Why not?”

“Shall this be a deal?” he smirked, ready for a challenge.

“Sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’ll win the next one, just you wait,” Heeseung's words were filled with utter determination and confidence. He was definitely ready to tell you 'told you so' and prove you wrong.

“Well, I’ll be waiting,” you glanced down at your phone, noticing over ten messages from Yunjin. Shit. “The clock’s ticking and I need to go. See you, captain,”

“Wait,” he caught hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to look at him, a big question mark written over your expression, anticipating his next words. “Can I at least know what your name is?”

You grinned. “It’s Y/N,”

"Get ready with your phone number, Y/N. I'll be looking out for you at the next game. Keep the jacket too," he winked and you waved a small goodbye, exiting out the door and dashed down the stairs with your dirty clothes in hand, wearing Heeseung's jacket, completely unaware how quick your heart was beating.

When you spotted Yunjin, you practically fell into her arms as she started ranting about why you shouldn’t run away without her knowledge, but all of it eventually drowned out into white noise. The only thing you could think of suddenly was Heeseung. Lee fucking Heeseung.

"Y/N," she sang out your name, tapping your head to catch your attention. “Why are you in a different outfit? You got laid didn’t you?” she gasped and you slapped her arm.

“Heeseung spilled a drink on me and took me to his friend’s room to change, that’s all,”

“Heeseung?” she gasped again, a teasing grin slowly forming and you knew that trouble was in that mind of hers. “You and him didn’t smoochy smooch … right?”

“We’re not there yet, hello?”

“There’s something called a hook up, you hopeless romantic,” Yunjin shook her head. “This sounds like the start of a hockey romance based on the books I've read," she squealed and you only sighed.

"Please read some self help books too,"

"Never," she huffed, leaning in and dropping her voice so that only the two of you could hear what she was about to say. "What did you two talk about? A private hook up after games? We need some spice in your hockey romance plot!"

"Oh my god, I rather drown than fuck that man. You do realise he has fangirls chasing after him? They'll choke me in my sleep if I slept with him,"

Yunjin wrapped her arm around you. "I'll choke you first if you don't bag that man. He's tall, hockey captain, hot most importantly," she winked. "One down part is that I'm pretty sure he used to fuck around quite a lot too. But then a messy hook up traumatised him,"

"How so?"

"She was crazy from what I heard. That's why no fangirls will come at you for revenge, they know he's a whore, but they'll just line up instead," she led you out to a flight of stairs, where there were some questionable couples making out, but that didn't stop you and Yunjin from sitting on the landing.

"Totally not a red flag," you said sarcastically. "I don't know how to feel about him. He was nice, quite flirty. Maybe he's like those Wattpad cliches where he's actually a nice guy?" You said, sipping onto the drink Yunjin got you.

"Who knows? Judging from the past rumours I've heard here and there, he definitely was a manwhore, but he’s also a sweet and genuine one," Yunjin clicked her tongue. "I did hear he's quite a sweetheart aside from his fuckboy tendencies."

"A manwhore with a kind heart! Just my type!" You clapped your hands and Yunjin chuckled at your comment. “Anyway, I swore I'm done with hockey boys a long time ago. I don't want to like him,"

Ice hockey has always been one of your favourite sports, but hockey boys? They were a whole different story for you. A core memory from highschool that you wished to never revisit was the fact that you had your heart broken by a hockey boy. He was considered your first love, a best friend, that ended up breaking your trust.

"This is why you should date a footballer,"

You snapped out of your momentary daze, looking up to meet Jake Sim’s eyes.

“Present to me a perfect candidate then,” Yunjin crossed her arms, frowning at Jake. She wasn't a big fan of him, considering his notorious playboy tendencies, but over time he did gradually warm up to her.

"Me!"

"I'll rip your head off first before you get a chance with Y/N,"

"Ouch,"

You and Yunjin shared a look, then burst out laughing.

"What's up, Sim? Do you have something for me?" You questioned Jake, wondering what his purpose was for his sudden appearance.

"Nothing, I'm just bored," he said plainly, though you and Yunjin were a little unconvinced.

"Okay? Any games coming up?"

"It's currently a short break for us. I'm glad or else my legs will snap in half soon," Jake pouted, resembling a puppy, which you couldn't help but find endearing. "You should totally come and learn to kick some footballs soon. Jake Sim is always up for some training," he winked.

"I'll be the next running candidate to take over Messi, right?" Yunjin joked and you nudged her side, giggling.

"Only if you learn at Jake Sim's personal training," he shrugged, a small smirk on his face. "Anyway, I really want to watch the hockey team and I heard you guys were regulars. Mind if I join?"

You raised an eyebrow at Yunjin, shooting her a wordless question. Yunjin scrunched her nose, thinking for a moment before shrugging. All while that was happening, Jake was just standing there staring, a little unimpressed.

"Hello? I don't appreciate this mind linking conversation that I'm not a part of," he placed his hands on his hips, his head tilted to the side.

"Alright, sorry," Yunjin mumbled.

"Fine, you can tag along," you said, watching the boy before you grin.

"Let's go!"

"IS IT NORMAL TO BE FREEZING COLD HERE?"

Jake had his arms around himself, shivering slightly even though he was already in layers. You and Yunjin followed the boy to your seats as he marvelled at the size of the rink.

"I barely watch hockey games, I'm more of a summer sports kinda guy," he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Well, it's just your lucky day, you'll be witnessing a win too," Yunjin winked, passing you a knowing glance.

"How do you know?"

"Team captain over there–" Yunjin nodded over at Heeseung, who was practising on the rink with the team, looking good as always, which only further annoyed you. "–made a deal with Y/N. I'm sure his determination will mix well with his competitiveness,"

Yunjin glanced over at you, a small smirk on her face. "And here he comes," she sang and you whipped your head just in time to meet his eyes.

Heeseung skated over, a small smile on his face. You felt Yunjin nudging your side in excitement and you slapped her hands away, ignoring her giddy expression and you returned a lopsided smile to Heeseung.

“Y/N!” you managed to hear his muffled voice through the glass, which he tapped on a couple times to get your full attention.

“I’m going to score one for you tonight,” you were surprised with the determined glint in his eyes, proving Yunjin's statement immediately, and after a quick wave from him, he skated away to join his team, preparing for the game to start.

Jake whistled, fanning himself. “I definitely felt the tension.”

“Shut up.”

The second period ended with a draw, both teams were not willing to back down for just a little, even creating small brawls on ice from time to time, causing the tension to be heightened. The third period was equally heart stopping and gut twisting. You had to occasionally grip Yunjin's arm whenever there was a close chance to score.

There was a sudden switch in the atmosphere, the home team had dominated possession of the puck, the blades of their skates working overtime trying to reach the other end to the opponent’s goal post. One hit after another, the puck travelled from one player’s hockey stick to another, until it reached star player Park Sunghoon, who had defenders swarming him and it left him no choice but to pass to his captain, Lee Heeseung.

With one swift hit to the oncoming puck from Sunghoon, it shot into the back of the net, leaving the goalie absolutely defenceless. The arena erupted with shouts and cheers, not expecting the sudden turnover from their home team, the speakers were blaring music, followed by announcing Heeseung’s name, which was welcomed with deafening screams. Shamelessly, you, Jake and Yunjin were part of the screams, clapping and jumping.

The team jumped onto Heeseung, but somehow, he escaped them all and started skating towards your direction, pointing his stick at you and shooting a wink. 'For you' he mouthed slyly at you before rejoining his teammates.

“See, I told you Heeseung will win it for Y/N,” Yunjin said, seemingly pleased.

“MVP,” Jake clapped, a shocked expression on his face.

You, on the other hand, were trying to digest everything that just happened. The moment where he dedicated the goal to you had you unintentionally blushing, realising a sudden change in feelings. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be so bad if you gave him a chance. Countless thoughts swarmed your head even until the end of the game.

Now, here you were, waiting for Heeseung at the parking lot, your friends peeking in the car from a distance.

Yunjin shot you an encouraging thumbs up while Jake only laughed at Yunjin’s efforts. You glared at them, waving them off and you reciprocated back with a middle finger. That’s when you heard a rough cough behind you. Fuck.

“Y/N?”

You turned around slowly, looking as though you were just caught in the middle of commiting something you're not supposed to. “Heeseung,” you laughed nervously. "Congrats on the game! You played well,”

“Thank you,” Heeseung grinned. “I’m glad you came. I mean, you always do, what am I even saying?” he rambled, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

You couldn't help laughing, finding the way he got nervous was cute. He was cute too. Undeniable. "That was a nice goal by the way,"

"Well, I did say I wanted to score one specifically for you. I'm a man of my words, you know?" He chuckled, getting shy eventually. "I'm glad you liked it though,"

"Of course I did," you gave him a small smile, fidgeting your fingers slightly.

He straightened up, regaining his composure. “So … our deal,”

“You’re lucky I like you enough to actually stick to it,” you grumbled, shoving your hand into your pocket to dig out the piece of paper.

“You like me, huh?”

“Not in that way yet,”

“‘Yet’. So I do have a chance. I’m happy to know,”

“Do you want my number or a black eye?” you threatened rather unseriously, a teasing tone laced in your words.

“I’d prefer a kiss, but your number shall do for now,” he grabbed the small note from your hand, unwrapping it to find a candy in it. “Apple flavoured, what a nice surprise,” he mumbled under his breath.

“You’re cute, you truly have a way to my heart huh?” he looked up from the candy, storing away your number safely into his pocket.

You caught yourself speechless from his words. On average, you were typically unfazed by these comments. Countless boys had tried them on you and all of them turned out to feel icky instead of making you kick your feet, giggling. But this time, Heeseung proved you wrong.

"Coming from Lee Heeseung himself, should I be flattered?" You tried your best to stay nonchalant, keeping your heart rate down as much as you can.

"I don't know? You tell me," Heeseung leaned down, his face close to you now, making you slowly grow flustered.

"Count me a little flattered," you took the clothes from the other night from your bag, pushing it into Heeseung's hands, catching him off guard. "Here, relay my thanks to your friend,"

"Only to my friend? What about me?" Heeseung crossed his arms, staring accusingly at you.

"My number already counts as a ‘thanks’, doesn’t it?"

Heeseung narrowed his eyes at you, a smile itching at the corner of his lips. “Not enough. A date might suffice,”

“You are demanding, Lee Heeseung,” you huffed, but not rejecting his suggestion either.

“I’ll text you, pretty girl. I have a plan in mind, so you better clear your schedules,”

“Alright, captain.”

“FOR ONCE, I DON'T REGRET COMING TO A PARTY YOU SELECTED,”

You’ve always avoided frat parties, specifically frat boys, but this time, Yunjin managed to accomplish the unexpected by convincing you to a frat party. You had to admit, there was a small motive behind your agreement, which was to visit the richest frat house on the campus. Free expensive booze, a big pool, big everything, it was definitely going to be more than a party. All you had to do was avoid the frat boys and your night shall be made.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yunjin snapped, but you were too busy checking out the vicinity to listen to her grumbles.

“They have a huge ass yard and pool,” you whispered to Yunjin, weaving through the growing crowd. The house was too extravagant, even the air in there seemed richer. The tiles were completely marbled, there were stairs leading up to almost four floors. You wondered how it was even owned by a frat.

“This is a rich frat, what did you expect?”

“Touche.”

You and Yunjin didn’t bother waiting for a second before taking some pregame shots. The vodka burned your throat, making you wince a little, but it didn't stop you from more. The moment Jake found the two of you, it was already clear you were already on the way to being completely shit-faced.

"Oh come on, you already started without me?" Jake whined, downing two shots of vodka straight.

"Couldn't resist," Yunjin pressed her lips into a thin line, shrugging slightly.

"Also, did you guys hear?" Jake leaned in, dropping his voice. "The hockey team from our rival school is coming to this party,"

"What?" You hissed, frowning slightly. "Who invited their asses?"

"I don't know," Jake shrugged, picking up another glass of alcohol from a tray.

"Speaking of hockey," Yunjin cleared her throat, passing you a knowing smirk. "Aren't you going to find Heeseung?"

"I–why would I?" You stammard, avoiding Yunjin's piercing gaze.

"He's clearly into you. Didn't you see him pulling that stunt that day? Scoring a goal for you and winning just for your number? That's the most commitment I've seen from him or just any man in general,"

"Hear hear," Jake raised his glass in agreement, then proceeded to down it without a second thought.

"I'll see what happens tonight," you said, but your eyes decided to go against you, unconsciously scanning the room hoping to see him.

"Tonight will be full of opportunities," Yunjin marvelled, throwing her arm around your shoulder and winking. "If you know what I mean," she whispered.

"The first you'll see is me getting drunk, not getting laid," you let out an exasperated sigh, pursing your lips and pausing as something caught your eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows, instantly noticing a group of guys filing into the room. They must be the rival team Jake had mentioned.

“Must be them,” Yunjin pointed out, taking a big gulp from her cup. Jake whipped his head around, scanning the group of guys that were yelling loudly, dabbing up one another and seemingly unlikeable as a whole.

He made a sour expression. “Great, hockey jocks,”

“As though your group of football guys are any better,” Yunjin quipped, only earning a sharp glare from Jake and he cleared his throat, gaze focused on a specific person.

“That guy there must be their captain,” he nodded at the group and you had to squint your eyes to see who Jake had his attention trained at. Almost immediately, your smile dropped, along with your heart. It was him.

You froze the moment your eyes landed on a tall figure, it definitely was him. He stood out from the rest, being the taller and bulkier one with messy hair and undeniable charm from the way he was already surrounded by different girls. Yup, that’s 100% Matthew, your high school lover, the hockey boy that traumatised your love life.

“Oh fuck me,” you cursed under your breath, the other two turning to stare at you.

“You want to fuck him?” Jake shrieked in surprise and Yunjin slapped the back of his head, causing the boy to hiss in pain, silently cursing.

“No, dipshit. That’s her …” she glanced at you and you nodded, giving her a green flag to continue, “ex.”

“Him? Matthew Son? Your ex?” Jake was flabbergasted, panning back and forth between your ex and you.

“Unfortunately. High school ex, to be exact,” you grumbled, pushing away the ill thoughts and bitter feelings that lingered for Mathew. You were a new person, you were never someone to be stuck in the past, you weren’t about to be affected by him. Never.

“I might need more drinks,” you rubbed the side of your head, slipping away before the other two could even say anything. Though the voice in your head was constantly affirming that his presence wasn’t affecting you, you still couldn’t help feeling unnerved. Seeing him was unnerving too.

The kitchen was unsurprisingly glamorous and the space was huge. Everything in there screamed fancy and expensive. The counter was made from marble, cupboards were also probably made from high quality wood and the wide variety of food in there could literally make it resemble a grocery store. Best of yet, you had it all to yourself. For once, your ex made himself useful enough by helping you attract everyone to the main room.

You spotted some leftover bottles of gin and decided to give your bartender skills some try. It wasn’t your first rodeo thanks to Yunjin. Ever since she started bringing you to parties and being someone who’s easily impressed, you found yourself learning some tips and tricks on how to mix drinks from a rando in a party one day. Soon, it became your favourite party activity.

It was quite peaceful being all by yourself. The songs playing on the speakers reverberated across the house, but you didn’t mind it as you mixed a concoction of gin and juice on the counter, praying it would turn out fine.

“You’re here?”

You turned around at the sound of the voice, almost toppling over your glass in shock, but the moment you met a familiar set of doe eyes, you released a breath of relief, your heart unknowingly beating faster.

“You’re here too? I thought no parties for Mr Hockey?” you leaned back onto the counter as he walked to your side.

“Thought I’d give myself an off day after yesterday’s win,” Heeseung shrugged, glancing at you from time to time. “Surprisingly, I always see you at every party I go to,”

“I was dragged to every said party by force,” you thought of the she-devil, Yunjin, who somehow successfully convinced you to attend every party with her. “Do you want a drink?” you offered, nodding towards your half made drink.

“You’re making them?” Heeseung eyed the bottles.

“I am a woman of many talents,” you said smugly, continuing your drink mixing, feeling Heeseung’s piercing stare on you.

“A woman who wouldn’t poison me right?” he peeked over your shoulder, closing in on your face, his body only inches away from yours till the point where you could feel the heat radiating off him. Lee Heeseung definitely knew what he was doing.

“You’re doubting my abilities now then?” you kept your cool, pouring alcohol into a new glass for Heeseung.

He smiled. “Just trying to make sure,” he murmured into your ears and you could tell he was enjoying teasing you. Sly fucker.

“No promises,” your voice came out in a whisper, turning a little to the side to meet his pair of bambi eyes and your breath hitched suddenly upon realising how close the two of you were, you were only an inch apart from touching each other’s noses. You were scared to move even the slightest, shying gradually from his eyes sweeping your features.

“What if I said I wanted to kiss you,”

You scoffed, growing immune to his charms. “I thought you were a gentleman, Lee? No candlelit dinner first?”

He cracked a grin, chuckling slightly. “Sometimes I skip that part and jump to dessert first,” he winked and you rolled your eyes, pushing his face away and he burst out laughing. “I’m playing with you. I’m obviously a gentleman, can’t you tell?”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow at him in scepticism. “I can’t.”

“You love breaking my heart, Y/N. I’m hurt,” he frowns, feigning innocence as he laid his head on your shoulder, clutching at his chest and you found yourself smiling unknowingly at his dramatics.

You decided to play along, patting Heeseung’s head in so called “comfort”. “Oh, what can I do to fix your broken heart, Heeseung?” you exclaimed.

“Come to Jay’s birthday party with me?” he stared up at you with pleading eyes. Those bambi eyes will eventually be the death of you.

"Why?"

You've heard of Jay Park one too many times. From the campus cafes to the local club, he was everywhere, and you didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. He was another one of the popular hockey players from Heeseung's team which you've seen at almost every party you attended ever since your first year.

Yunjin told you only one thing upon seeing Jay Park: "don't meddle with him" and you've stuck to it.

"That's a bold invitation," you considered for a moment, still quite unconvinced. "Isn't it just a bro only party?"

"He's the one asking us to bring a plus one," Heeseung huffed, removing his head from your shoulder, a small pout on his face. "Worse part is that it's in a club,"

"Are you trying to persuade me or dissuade me?"

"What I mean is, I'll be with you there. It's also a VIP lounge given how loaded Jay is and knowing him, he probably rented it out too. Plus, they'll finally get to meet the girl who cussed them out!"

You buried your head into your hands in shame, embarrassment burning your cheeks red. "You can't be serious,"

"Unfortunately, I am. But they'll love you, don't worry, pretty,"

You glared at him while he only returned a cheeky grin back at you. “Fine,” you groaned out, ultimately succumbing to his words, unable to deny the effect he had on you. Curse him. “When and what time?”

“Next Saturday night,” his grin widened at your words, satisfaction washed over his face. “I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Sounds good,”

“That’s that then,” he glanced over at his shoulders, hearing faint shouts of his name outside of the kitchen and passed you an apologetic smile, as if expressing that it was a shame he couldn’t stay longer and you couldn’t lie, you wanted him to stay longer. “Remember to send me your address, gorgeous.” he waved his phone in the air before backing away and disappearing out the door.

It was about to be a long week ahead.

“SET ME UP WITH ONE OF THEM, PLEASE. I NEED THE MONEY,”

Saturday, to your dismay, unfortunately and eventually arrived. You didn’t know whether to be excited or absolutely dread the party, a certain feeling of anxiety clawing at your insides just when you think about meeting new people. Yunjin could only roll her eyes at you as she added more eyeshadow.

“It already sends shivers down my spine thinking that I’ll be speaking to them in person and you expect me to go ‘hey guys, my friend needs someone to be her sugar daddy, you up’?” you deadpanned, applying a layer of lip gloss.

“That’s exactly it,” Yunjin smiled pleasantly and you feigned gagging, making Yunjin laugh and almost poking the mascara wand into your eyes. “Also, do you consider this a date?”

“He did say he wanted to take me out, but having him take me to a club as a date? I don’t think he’s the sleazy type to do so. I take it as him taking me as his date … like a friendly invite,”

“Friendly invite?” Yunjin exclaimed incredulously, inching closer to check on the details of your makeup. “Did you see the way he looks at you? There's nothing friendly about that, he’s hooked,”

“You’re giving me false hope, Jen,” you sighed, standing up to change into an outfit Yunjin picked which, in her words,was definitely ‘life changing enough to have Heeseung on his knees’.

“Not false hope if it’s literally just the truth,” Yunjin shrugged, helping to clasp a necklace around your neck. “Come on, give me a twirl,” she squealed excitedly once you were done struggling balancing on one leg putting on the dress and shoes.

You complied with Yunjin’s request, begrudgingly giving her a small twirl. At the same time, you took the chance to glance down at your dress, satisfied that for once an impulsive purchase benefited you. The dress was a shade of midnight blue, hugging your body tight and showing off your curves in the best way as if it was custom made. All in all, as Yunjin would describe, it was simply ‘pants dropping’.

At the ‘ping’ of your notification, you saw a text from Heeseung saying he had already arrived and your heart jumped. With one swift hug from Yunjin and an ‘encouraging’ saying along the lines of ‘hooking up’ and ‘protection’, you were pushed out of the door and soon into Heeseung’s car.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Heeseung greeted, a half smile on his face as his hands rested on the steering wheel. He paused when his eyes landed on your figure, his gaze sweeping you from top to bottom, making you a little self conscious. He whistled under his breath, blinking slowly.

“Eyes up here,” you stared pointedly at him, crossing your arms, but you had to admit, you were checking him out shamelessly as well, the smell of his vanilla cologne in the air and his loose button up shirt wasn’t helping either.

“My bad. I was just admiring you. You look pretty,” he turned his attention back to the road, heading to wherever the club was located, just in time to not notice the slight blush to your cheeks.

“Really? You don’t look too bad yourself either, Lee,”

“Why thank you. I’m flattered,” he shot you a wink and you could only roll your eyes at his antics.

The rest of the conversation continued in a casual flow, making you feel at ease and your anxiety eventually lessened. The jokes he cracked made you laugh and with the way he answered your questions, you knew he wasn’t anything like the playboy people made him up to be. As much as you hated to admit, you were giving him the benefit of the doubt. Will it hurt you? Maybe.

After Heeseung pulled the car into park, you got out and you were instantly in awe at the exterior of the club. This was in fact a place where rich kids party, judging from the amount of ferraris, mercedes and other luxurious cars parked outside, you made sure to keep yourself away from the snobby rich kids or who knows, Yunjin’s wish might even be granted tonight.

Wordlessly, Heeseung offered you his hand and you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him guide you further into the club as you pushed yourself through the crowd, and soon arrived in a large room that was almost the size of someone’s living room. “You’re kidding,” you murmured, amazed by the size of the room and the decorations littered across every wall.

“Told you Jay was blessed with money,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, shooting a sweet smile.

“I should set him up with Yunjin,” you said thoughtlessly and Heeseung chuckled.

“He’ll like that roommate of yours,”

“Heeseung!”

You were interrupted by an approaching figure who was easily recognizable with that head of freshly dyed white hair. Park Sunghoon, another ace of the hockey team. Thanks to Yunjin’s valiant effort in finding every player’s instagram profile, you were now able to recognise who was who.

“Hoon!” Heeseung greeted back, giving his best friend a side hug.

Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon was quick to turn his attention to you instead. “Y/N right? Heard many good things about you,” he extended his hand, a sneaky grin on his face.

You accepted his handshake, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his words. “That’s me,”

“You’re a regular at the hockey games, how are they?” Sunghoon kept you company now that Heeseung went away to greet the others, but you didn’t mind, finding yourself growing comfortable with the Jack Frost look alike.

“Do you wish to listen to my boring five hour analysis on each game?”

“I think it would be longer than five hours,”

“Exactly,” you clicked your tongue, then narrowed your eyes in suspicion at him. “Plus, how do you know I’m a regular? It’s not like I score front row seats every game,”

Sunghoon glanced around as if searching for anyone who’s eavesdropping, then he gestured for you to come closer, which you did, though clearly confused. “I think Heeseung will kill me for saying this,”

“Why?” you whispered back, your smile twisting into a frown. “Oh god, is Heeseung a stalker?”

“What?” it was Sunghoon’s turn to be utterly confused, staring back at you as though you’re the crazy one. He shook his head. “Heeseung might fool around sometimes but he’s definitely not a stalker or a Ted Bundy wannabe.”

“Thank heavens,” you let out a sigh of relief, but Sunghoon definitely wasn’t done yet.

“Anyway, what I was about to say was, Heeseung has always paid attention to you, Y/N. English class, hockey games, he’s got sharp eyes, ace for a reason eh? He’s genuine about you. Believe me, I’ve heard about you since day one, and I mean this in a nice way, but I’m sick of him constantly talking about you without doing anything at all,” a small grin appeared on Sunghoon’s devilishly handsome features.

“I must admit, he was a player, but I can see he’s changing and I don’t think it’ll hurt to give him a chance. He’s a sweetheart, so just don’t break his heart, will you?” he glanced behind his shoulders, noticing Heeseung entering the room with one of his teammates and a girl. “Heeseung’s back and I know he’s going to kill me if he finds out. It’s nice meeting you, Y/N. My date’s here, see you!”

Sunghoon gave you a small pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving your head in a frenzy state. Lee Heeseung, captain of the hockey team, the school’s ace and pride, basically Mr Popular, was into you? Yunjin was going to strangle you in either excitement or surprise when she found out.

“What were you guys talking about?” he slithered smoothly to your side, bumping your shoulder gently.

“Hockey. Was wondering if he wanted an analysis on each game,”

Heeseung grinned, shaking his head gently. “You’re a menace,”

There were basically zero chances to be alone together, which you suddenly craved after Sunghoon basically dropped a big bomb on you, till now you still couldn’t swallow. Heeseung had you close to his side as he introduced you to each of his teammates and their dates, including the birthday boy Jay, and somehow all of them remembered you from that fateful night on Friday.

“So, how did you meet our dear Heeseung here?” Jay wiggled his eyebrows, passing you a glass of champagne that probably costs way more than you imagine.

“Oh, it was magical, I fell into his arms and he confessed his love for me,” you sighed dreamily, fanning yourself. At your words, Jay nudged you, a wide smile on his face and you waved your hand, stifling your giggles. “Kidding, it would totally be a wattpad cliche if that happened. He’s in my English class and we met at a party,”

“I’m surprised he’s somewhat won you over,” he raised a questionable eyebrow at you. “You are aware of how he was right? Or are you the type to scream and cry after figuring out his past fuckboy history?”

You gave him an unamused stare. “If I minded his past, I wouldn’t be here anyway. But he does seem like a changed person, I’ve heard stories from my roommate and they were … interesting,”

Jay let out a soft laugh at that. “I can tell he’s serious about you, trust me, he’s the type to not back down when he sets his mind to something. Let his hockey be an example,” he shrugged. “I know my best friend, Y/N. Unless he fucks up then I’ll punch him for you,”

You placed a hand on your chest, a bemused grin lit up your features. “You’re truly a gentleman, Jay,”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be your gentleman!” Heeseung appeared behind you, his arm thrown around your shoulder. If you could explode right now, you would. The amount of skinship you had with Heeseung was unhealthy and unknowingly, you found yourself succumbing to it each time. “Let’s go to the dancefloor outside? The guys really want to go,”

Now you were in the middle of the dancefloor, swaying your body to the beat of whatever song the DJ was playing and it was nice that it felt like you were in your own world, carelessly and mindlessly dancing to your heart’s content. You were surrounded by the boys’ dates, who you’ve found yourself befriending quickly, while Heeseung was nowhere to be seen after dancing for only a few minutes. Rude.

“Hi,” you snapped your head to find Jay squeezing through towards you, trying his best to not get his expensive shoe stepped on. “Where’s Heeseung?”

“That’s a question I’d like to ask too. He’s definitely not with me though. I thought he was with you at first … but I guess not,” you shrugged, frowning slightly as you wondered where that man would have run off to.

“I thought he was with you,” Jay huffed, annoyance clear in his features. “I swear if he’s out there wasted, coach is going to—wait…” he faltered, his gaze trailed over your head and being naturally curious, you followed his gaze, turning around and from a distance, you couldn’t tell what Jay was even looking at, until you pinpoint a familiar someone in a dress shirt you saw not long before.

There he was, sitting at the bar, back facing the dancing floor as he sat close to a girl, whispering into each others’ ears and laughing. You swore you didn’t care, but the heart doesn’t lie, you were jealous and it wasn’t helping how Sunghoon was just saying Heeseung was serious about you only hours before this. It was comical.

“Oh,” Jay said under his breath, taking a big gulp from the glass in his hand.

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” you said flatly, not realising you were practically shooting daggers into the back of Lee Heeseung’s head. Jay let out a small laugh that eventually turned into a cough once he saw you giving him a side eye, an apologetic smile appearing on his face.

“You know, Y/N, I have a plan,” his smile slowly turned into a smirk and it dawned on you, Park Jong Seong’s gears were in work and you didn’t know what you’re about to get yourself into. “Don’t give me that look, my plans are the best,”

Your frown deepened, resuming to give Jay a sceptical look as his smile continued to get more playful. Oh you were in for a treat. “Why don’t we make Heeseung … jealous? I mean, it is clear that he likes you, a little push won’t hurt can it?”

“Have you been watching too many romcoms?” you shot him a look of exasperation, noticing the similarity between him and Yunjin. One was already enough, you didn't need two. Jay nudged you softly, wiggling his eyebrows in encouragement for disaster.

“I bet you the moment he sees you with me, he’s going to burst and before you know it, you’ll be celebrating your one year anniversary—”

You held a hand up, silencing Jay before he could continue further. You started chewing on your bottom lip, a small habit of yours, as you found yourself in disbelief once these words left your lips. “Fine, why not?”

Jay shot you a wink, closing in on you and you placed a hand on his chest, raising an eyebrow. “No funny business, Jay,”

“You have no faith in me. It’s common bro code to not get with your best friend’s girl,”

You let Jay dance close to you, appreciating the fact that he was maintaining a respectful distance to you, setting a clear boundary between the both of you. Contrary to popular beliefs, he might actually seem not too bad. “I feel like Lee Heeseung might’ve been peeking at us,”

“You think so?”

Jay glanced at the direction of the bar, catching Heeseung’s piercing gaze and he smirked, leaning close to you. “Oh, he’s so watching us,”

"You're kidding," you turned around, still moving your body to the music, squinting your eyes to find Heeseung staring back at you, jaw clenched and lips pressed into a flat line, practically glaring daggers into Jay's head.

"You're not," you said mindlessly, hearing Jay burst out laughing behind you, but it all faded to grey as your eyes followed Heeseung's figure disappear behind a corner.

"He's leaving," you spun around, meeting Jay's panicked expression. "I'll go find him,"

"Did our plan work a little too well?"

"We’ll find out soon," you patted Jay's shoulder, whispering a quick thanks before welcoming the challenge of squeezing past sweaty bodies.

You figured Heeseung was heading back to the private room from the looks of where he was going, so you followed his trail around the corner, stumbling slightly and immediately regretting the amount of drinks you had. In the very next moment, you regretted more than just the drinks, you were contemplating your existence.

"Y/N?"

Son Matthew was staring back at your limp figure leaning against the wall for support, a mix of shock and confusion in his face. You, on the other hand, was about to sink into the ground in shame. Being tipsy and struggling to stand was already a moment you would never want anyone to see, let alone your cheating ex.

You cleared your throat, gripping onto the wall to straighten up, avoiding his wandering eyes as much as you could. The awkward tension in the air was palpable, you were aware how rigid the man before you was and you knew he probably didn’t think of bumping into you here out of nowhere.

“So…how are you—”

“Save the small talk please,” you interjected, sighing deeply at the usual post breakup ‘how are you’s and awkward catching up.

“Look, I never got to apologise and I know you hate me for it—”

“Of course I do!” you exclaimed, getting heated gradually and the alcohol in your system wasn’t helping one bit. “I walked in on you and her in the bedroom and you expect me to stand there to wait for your apology? It’s the fact that you never bothered to apologise after anyway,”

He looked down in shame, knowing every word you said was true and undeniable, meanwhile his silence only hurt you further. First loves always hurt, and seeing him here again after many years made you realise that you truly deserved way more than a hockey jock like him.

“I’m playing against your school’s team next week,” he said weakly, trying to change the subject. Great, another day to dread when it was supposed to be you and your best friend’s day.

“Good luck,” you didn’t know what to say, finding yourself in an awkward position. “Or not really,”

Matthew nodded slowly, clearly getting uncomfortable and you were too. “So, are you talking to someone now—”

“Yeah, she is,”

You felt an arm snaking its way around your shoulder, tensing for a minute until you realised whose voice it was.

“Lee Heeseung?” Matthew’s demeanour changed in a flash, suddenly seeming more spiteful and filled with jealousy. This was giving you deja vus of the red flags you’ve experienced in your past relationship. It made you feel sick.

“Son Matthew,” Heeseung cooed, eyeing him readily. Heeseung and Matthew had always been somewhat rivals ever since they started playing hockey. Matthew had mentioned a ‘rival’ once too many times in the past and lucky you, you were able to piece it together after entering college where you’d watched their teams play against each other once for a cup competition.

“Long time no see,” Heeseung said coolly, a small smirk on his face as he stared back at your ex, whose expression was twisting into a foul look. “Ready for the next game?”

At Heeseung’s mocking tone, Matthew scoffed. “You haven’t changed, eh? Still the usual overconfident Lee Heeseung,”

“They don’t call me ‘ace’ for no reason, right? Hey, I deserve some bragging rights,” you rolled your eyes at Heeseung’s words, which seemed to tick your ex further. He really knows how to rile someone up, doesn’t he?

“See you on the ice,” Matthew grumbled, walking past Heeseung and you, making sure to mumble ‘jerk’ loud enough for Heeseung to hear, prompting him to let out a laugh as he waved your ex tauntingly goodbye.

“How friendly,” Heeseung gritted out through a forced smile, his eyebrows furrowed, obviously annoyed but then he turned to you, a quizzical look replacing his previous agitated expression. “How do you know this guy? He’s a complete douche,”

“He’s my ex,” you admitted not so happily, noticing the slight surprise in Heeseung’s face.

“He wasn’t trying to do anything to you right?” Heeseung asked at once, his eyes flashed with worry as they darted around your face to your body. You softened at his words, shaking your head and reaching over to take his hand in yours.

“I’m fine, really. It was really awkward though,” you tried to laugh it off, but in reality you were so ready to dig yourself a grave. “You’re not wrong, he is a jerk and I don’t know what I even saw in him when he literally cheated on me,”

“Speaks a lot about his character for being so shit off and on ice. I’m sorry, Y/N, you deserved more than someone like him,” Heeseung squeezed your hand gently, passing you a consoling smile.

“It’s alright, Hee, I’ve gotten over him years ago. I hope you guys beat his ass next game,” you swung his hand lightly, beaming at his presence, but not noticing the fact that he was trying his best to hide a smile.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “I’ll trash him for you, Y/N,”

“Sounds like another challenge. I’ll take you up on it,” you smirked.

“You have to stop tormenting me, I swear,” Heeseung sighed wearily at your antics, but he couldn’t resist a lopsided grin. “Anyway, where were you even going?”

“To get a drink,” you blatantly lied through your teeth, unwilling to admit that you were actually looking for him. There’s one thing that Yunjin always preached and it was to never let a man know you’re chasing him. In times like this, you were about to listen to her teachings.

“You had fun dancing with Jay?” Heeseung smoothly brought up, completely having zero intentions of either sugar coating nor hiding his jealousy, and you were stunned by his straightforwardness, a small grin tugging at your lips.

“He offered me company, so I took up that offer. Someone here was off flirting with someone else, no? I thought you were a gentleman?” you said teasingly, but in secret, you had to admit you were a little upset. Just a little.

Heeseung stared back at you, a look of amusement and deadpan on his face.“I wasn’t flirting, Y/N. She was asking what drink I got since it looked funky and being the gentleman I am—” he gave you a smirk and winked, “— I answered her question, but she couldn’t hear me so I had to lean in. It’s genuinely a misunderstanding from someone else’s point of view,”

Noticing the slight lingering doubt in your features, he smiled at you reassuringly, throwing his arm around you and started guiding you back to the private room. “You do know I’m yours for the night, right? I won’t leave you for someone else. I told you I’ll have you by my side and I’ll stick to it,”

“Just for tonight?” you said curiously, peering up at him.

“What are you trying to say, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow at you quizzically, but you just brushed it off, flushing a little at your own words, meanwhile Heeseung sneaked a small smile after noticing your panicky behaviour.

“Let me take you home,” Heeseung offered, pushing the door open to a room scattered with people here and there, some making out on the couch and some at the corner having small talks. The contrast was certainly there.

“What about the whole birthday celebration for Jay? Cake?”

“Oh he’s too drunk for that,” Heeseung waved his hand dismissively, as if this was a common occurrence. “Sunghoon will help him out, don’t worry,”

“If you say so … then I won’t decline your kind offer,” you furrowed your eyebrows, pursed your lips and stared pointedly at Heeseung. “Did you drink?”

“Mocktails, Y/N, mocktails. I’ve been pulled over before and trust me, I want none of that again,”

“Bad boy Heeseung … interesting,” you nodded slightly, a mischievous smirk on your face, to which was met with Heeseung unamused laugh.

“I’ll dump you here if you call me that again,” he huffed, picking up your jacket and bag.

“What happened to being yours for the night?” you said in a sing-song tone, looping your arm around his and pulled him through the door, making sure to wave a half-drunk Jay along the way out.

“Might have to make some adjustments then.”

“Mean.”

NEVER IN YOUR DREAMS WOULD YOU EXPECT YUNJIN TO absolutely embarrass Heeseung the moment he dropped you off at your doorstep. But that was exactly what had happened.

"Oh Heeseung," Yunjin opened the door with a hand placed on her hip, staring straight at Heeseung with a vague smile.

"Uh … hi?" Heeseung greeted back with uncertainty, panning back and forth between you and your roommate.

"Kissed Y/N yet?"

You and Heeseung immediately froze on the spot, blinking in question back at Yunjin, and you swore to yourself that you couldn't take anymore embarrassing moments for the night or else you'll soon be six feet under. You felt heat travelling up to your face and embarrassment crawling onto your skin.

"Well! Goodnight, Heeseung. Thanks for the ride!" you instantly pushed Yunjin back inside, closing the door but just enough for you to peek your head out.

"Don't mind her, she likes to think … outside the box sometimes!" you whispered to him, an apologising half smile on your face and ears burning a scarlet red, which Heeseung mirrored and finally after a last goodbye, he left and you were alone with Yunjin.

"I'll kill you, Huh Yunjin."

"Fuck."

It's been a few days since that interesting exchange and you've already texted Heeseung about it, being able to sigh a breath of relief when he was cool about it and sparing the trouble of chasing Yunjin around. Soon, with the mountain load of work, it was already Friday night hockey in a blink of an eye.

“You whore! You lying whore," Yunjin hissed, sucking her teeth. "I heard a specific someone is done with hockey boys? Is she in the room with us now?”

You were caught guilty at once, passing Yunjin a dirty look as you pulled Heeseung's jersey over your head. "It just … happened. Oh my God, am I actually in love?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions first, genius," Yunjin poked your forehead. "Do you like him?"

"Yes."

"No hesitation. I've truly lost you to him, huh?"

"You're always my number one, Jen," you rolled your eyes at her antics, picking your stuff up and starting to make your way out to the arena with Yunjin clinging onto your arm.

“But the problem now is who’s going to make the move first?” Yunjin hummed, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

“I’m hoping he would,”

“Why don't you do it?”

“This isn’t the first day we’ve been friends, Jen,”

“Right …”

Being somebody who's afraid of confrontation, you find yourself stuck in the middle. Currently torn between wondering if you were finally ready for something new and worrying if Heeseung would treat you right. 'He's serious about you' rang in your head from time to time and you couldn't lie, you started reciprocating the interest he had in you over time.

"If you like him, just go for him," Yunjin spoke out of the blue after a moment of silence, as if reading your thoughts and sensing something off. "I'm serious, Y/N. He's a nice, genuine guy, and seeing the way he treats you, you deserve someone that gives you their all,"

"Yunjin I'll cry right now," you stopped in your tracks, pouting at your best friend while she could only laugh, throwing her arms around you and continuing to drag you towards the arena.

"Aren't they playing our rival team today?" Yunjin recalled, frowning a little upon realisation. "That means he's there too, no?"

"Unfortunately," you pressed your lips into a thin line, breathing out slowly. "You do remember me telling you that Heeseung and I bumped into him at the party right?"

“Yeah?”

“They’re definitely going to cause a scene tonight, I can feel it in my bones,”

“It’s not that serious,”

“Remember Matthew’s lifelong rival since high school that I’ve mentioned before?”

“Don’t tell me it’s …”

“Heeseung. Small world, right?”

Yunjin raised her eyebrows in surprise, whistling quietly under her breath. "Quite unexpected," she said breathlessly, not realising that you were now already at the arena. "I'd love a fight,"

"You just love chaos,"

"And you're right," Yunjin smiled sweetly at you and you pushed her face away, earning a laugh from her. "Is Heeseung not meeting you pregame?" She nudged your side, raising her eyebrows expectantly with a knowing smirk on her face as she led you down to your usual seats in the arena.

"He did text me…" you said, seeing Yunjin's eyebrows rising higher. "But he said his coach is more strict for today so no pregame meetings,"

"Lame," Yunjin booed.

"He also said he's treating dinner tonight after the game,"

"Not lame," Yunjin switched up and practically almost jumped out of her seat, clapping her hands. "Let's feast tonight. Go team!"

"MAN, I NEED SOME POPCORN FOR THIS,"

Nervousness started creeping up on you as you witnessed the heated start of the game, both teams clashing roughly into one another and fouling left and right. Yunjin was entertained; you were worried and stressed.

"They keep fouling our team and no time outs, you're kidding," you threw your hands up in frustration, noticing other students grumbling as well.

"Are we surprised? Big games are like this," Yunjin shook her head, crossing her arm and leaned back into her seat.

Two periods went by rather quickly, both teams were tied and obvious vexation hung in the air. You noticed Heeseung was practically flying around, chasing the puck with vigor, bumping hard into other players in order to reach the goalpost, but to his dismay, he missed the shot, earning groans from many, you included.

The third period rolled over in a blink of an eye, the tension heightened as the two teams were finding ways to score desperately. Your eyes instinctively followed Heeseung's speeding figure, but something in your stomach told you things were about to turn sour real quick.

Heeseung was zooming across the defenders with ease, guiding the puck towards the goalpost, until a distinct figure, who happened to be the one and only, Matthew, skated up next to him and started causing trouble. You couldn't tell what was exactly happening, but the aggression between the two was getting heavier by each second.

Next thing you knew, Heeseung rammed into your ex, sending him flying to the glass panels, but that wasn't all. Heeseung completely forgo the puck, throwing his gloves to the side and skated up to Matthew, sizing him up.

Both teams were extremely caught off by this sudden fight between them, everyone started panicking the moment Heeseung grabbed Matthew by the neck, but your ex seemed unfazed and continued uttering something to him, leading up to the part where Heeseung punched the latter in the face.

You and Yunjin audibly gasped and so did everyone else in the arena, including the players on the bench and the coaches who were yelling over the noise. Those on the ice made their way to the fight, trying their utmost best to rip the two apart, but Heeseung had his hands practically glued on Matthew, not wanting to let go as he was seen screaming at him.

"I mentioned wanting a fight but not like this …" Yunjin muttered, now standing and occasionally tip-toeing to see what was happening. "Matthew obviously egged him on and pissed Heeseung off,"

"Heeseung has the worst temper on ice, he knew what he was doing," you frowned, getting worried as you watched the referee sending both of them to the penalty box. Heeseung threw his helmet on the floor in frustration, his wet strands of hair sticking onto his forehead.

"Well, at least the team is winning," Yunjin pointed out to the score line, where a glorious 3-2 was showing on the jumbotron. The home team managed to score the winning goal after the game was resumed, taking advantage of the opposition's bewilderment from the fight to mess their strategy up.

The crowd was cheering and jumping, food got scattered around onto the floor and the away fans could only leave in silence. Towards the end of the final period, Heeseung's penalty ended and he joined the team in exiting the ice, face still a little sour as his coach started telling him off.

“You should find him after this,” Yunjin tapped your side and you nodded in agreement, making sure to text him beforehand.

‘Locker room’ was the only thing he texted back and you slowly got anxious, curious as to what had really happened between him and your ex on ice. One thing’s for sure, it definitely wasn’t something good.

You stormed up to the doors of the locker room, heaved a breath of courage and pushed your way in. Lucky for you, by the time you got there mostly everyone was gone, except for Heeseung and Sunghoon, both sitting on a bench, whispering aggressively at one another. That was until Sunghoon caught your approaching figure, giving Heeseung a final word before standing up.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon passed you an awkward smile, a first aid kit in his hands. “I’ll leave him in your hands, I have an appointment with someone now,” he basically thrusted the box into your hands, whispering a quick apology and thanks before scampering away.

You felt helpless and confused as the box sat in your hands, then you started advancing slowly towards Heeseung and soon, you were standing directly in front of him, prompting him to stare up at you, still managing to crack a smirk even when his face looked rough. His left eye was bruised, lips cut and cracked and practically bleeding, his knuckles red and bruised. Overall, he was quite literally a mess.

"You're wearing my jersey,"

"And you're bleeding right now, is that important?"

"To me it is,"

"You're a fool. You have a bruised eye now," you fingers grazed against his cheeks, gaze travelling from one end to the other of his face.

"Do you still think I’m cute?"

"One more word and I'll add a bruise on the other eye," you gave him a side eye and he only responded with a chuckle, patting the empty spot beside him and you complied, sitting down and your shoulder touched his, leaving zero space between the both of you.

“What happened?” you hissed, staring pointedly at him as your hands dug through the items in the first aid kit.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Heeseung grunted, nodding at your actions and you only returned an unamused look.

“I do, now stop avoiding my question,” you hissed, applying some ointment on his knuckles, causing him to flinch in pain, face screwed in discomfort. “What happened, Hee? I saw,”

Heeseung was reluctant, but he gave in eventually, anger evident in his gaze and tone. “It was your ex,”

“I know you are rivals, but you could’ve just ignored him—”

“No, you don't get it, I can’t! He was talking shit about you,” Heeseung ran a hand through his hair in frustration, adam apple bobbing as he tried not to burst out. "'Go back to that slut', 'do you enjoy my leftovers'. I can't just continue playing after the shit he said, there's no way I'll stand there and do nothing,"

"It's okay, Hee—"

"It's not," he huffed, his frown deepened, running a hand across his face. "It's not okay and I wasn't going to let that man call you names and walk free,"

You couldn't resist a smile, your heart thumping against your chest and your gaze softened, placing a hand on his. "Thanks for standing up for me. Really."

"I always will at any time, I care about you, Y/N, and I don't want anything bad happening to you," Heeseung blurted out, his face gradually turning red upon realising his own confession, making sure to seem nonchalant as he switched the topic. "You should've seen his face when I actually punched him. He was all talk only,"

"He's like that, unfortunately," you sighed as you finished wrapping some compressible bandages over his knuckles, whispering a quick 'sorry' when he winced.

“Honestly if you keep pulling these tricks on ice, I might think you’re into me,” you added boldly, referring to the other time where he dedicated a goal to you and he, too, realised the same, the tip of his ears turning a slight red.

“What if I told you I am?”

“Oh, I know,”

Heeseung leaned back, an amused grin plastered on his face. You couldn't tell if he's glad you knew or if he's in horror. "Am I that obvious? Am I too transparent?"

"Well, would you rather me be dumb and not take the hint?"

"Definitely not that," Heeseung leaned back closer to you, letting you clean the small cut on his lips. "I have a feeling someone ratted me out to you,"

"Partially, but I did have a feeling,"

"Motherfucker," he hissed under his breath, then his eyes widened, a look of panic flashed across his face. "So … you know I liked you before this, then do you … like me?"

You rolled your eyes, in disbelief these words were coming from the fuckboy himself. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here," you were finally done patching him up, placing everything back neatly into the box as he watched your every move. "You're fantastic at hockey but you're terrible at feelings, Hee,"

"I'm easily intimidated,"

"I didn't see you being intimidated while fighting,"

"Intimidated by pretty girls, I mean,"

"How charming," you mused, bumping his shoulder softly. "When and how did it even start, I thought you were the type to fuck around,"

"I've noticed you since English class and after some time, I saw you at my games too. I didn't want to approach you since I was worried you'd think of me differently because of my past—"

"Fuckboy-ness?"

"You could put it that way," Heeseung clapped his hands, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs. "I just liked you. You were funny at presentations, charming, passionate in things you liked. I wanted to get to know you better and after meeting you, it just … clicked,"

"But at the party, why did you even bother asking my name when you already knew who I was?"

"First impressions matter, Y/N. I didn't want to seem like a whole ass stalker,"

"You could've mentioned that you knew my name from English. 'Oh you're Y/N from English', there,"

"Are you teaching me how to flirt?"

"I'm teaching you how to flirt with me,"

"Alright then," Heeseung turned his body to fully face you now, a look of seriousness on his face. "Y/N from English, I like you. So much till the point where I feel suffocated. I don't care if you'll beat my ass after we lose and I'll listen to all of your analysis, will you go out with me?"

"Yes and I like you too, jackass. Now shut up and kiss me already," you wrapped a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in towards you and attached your lips to his, instantly melting against his touch the moment he snaked a hand across your jaw.

You couldn't believe this was happening, it felt like a dream. His lips were soft, the taste of mint on his tongue lingered, the feeling on his lips on yours was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

Heeseung broke away momentarily, his forehead remained pressed against yours and you could feel his breath against your lips. "You're really romantic, Y/N,"

"You bet," you giggled in between kisses, your hands pushing him back a little as he practically chased your lips like a starved man. "You should go change,"

"Fuck, you're right," he glanced down at his hockey gear clad body. "It's getting late too, I'll drive you back. Want to stop by a drive through? I told you tonight's my treat,"

"I'm down,"

"Let me get my clothes, wait here," Heeseung stood up, ready to walk away but halting abruptly. "Tomorrow night, dinner, is that okay?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"It's whatever you like,"

"Pick me up at 7,"

"On it," Heeseung nodded slowly, taking note of it mentally. "Also, does Yunjin want some food too?"

"If you buy her some, you'll immediately be on her good list, just saying,"

"You two are so alike, it's scary,"

"We're besties for a reason."

IT'S BEEN FIVE MONTHS EVER SINCE THAT NIGHT IN THE LOCKER room. You remembered coming home with Heeseung tailing behind you after, a bag of food in his hands and a welcoming Yunjin greeting him at the door.

"You two finally kissed, didn't you?" Yunjin mentioned carelessly in between bites of her burger and you swore you saw Heeseung's soul escaping his body. "That's the shade of lipstick Y/N wears on the side of your lips,"

Heeseung's hand flew to the side of his lips, touching the spot where you gave him a small peck of encouragement before getting off of the car.

"I'm glad you two are together," Yunjin continued, not noticing the flushed state you and Heeseung were in. "It's been months—oh God, I need to tell Jake this,"

And she did, leading to Jake calling you up the day after where he basically shouted through the phone. Since then, you had a plus one to every football game Jake played in.

"You guys are so annoying," Yunjin grimaced at the sight of Heeseung leaning his head onto your shoulder.

It was currently a Saturday night just after Heeseung's playoff match in which he scored three goals, so now, the team and your friends were at a nearby bar celebrating the victory.

"Stop being jealous," Heeseung defended, dropping his voice and closing in. "That's why I told you to go for Jay,"

"Him? Only God can put up with him, I barely know him and I already couldn't stand him,"

"Someone will eventually," you shrugged, taking a sip out of your mocktail.

"Good luck to them," Jake mumbled, holding his cup up for a toast and downed it all within the next second.

The night ended with a very drunk Yunjin along with many other drunk hockey players stumbling over their feet. Jake offered to take Yunjin home and she could only splutter out some responses, while you and Heeseung went by yourselves.

"If we can win the playoffs, I'll literally explode," Heeseung was currently the happiest man in the world, one hand holding his girlfriend while the other was close to touching the playoff trophy. He could ask for nothing more.

"It'll happen, Hee," you assured, running your thumb across his finger softly. "It's bound to happen, the team is strong. You have to believe my analysis too,"

"Pfft, fairs, your analysis does always hit the spot,"

"See? I'm always right,"

"Yeah yeah," Heeseung chuckled, pulling the car to park once you've arrived at your dorm's carpark and you two just sat there naturally, a sense of ambiance in the air as the radio played quietly in the background.

"I love you,"

Those three words were the first to break the silence. Heeseung looked like he was in disbelief although he was the one who said it first. Meanwhile, you were starting to smile like a fool.

"Did I—"

"I love you too, you idiot," you grabbed his face before he could continue, knowing well he'll end up rambling in the end. You pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, earning a stunned look from him until he eventually returned the favour.

"Was it too soon?" He mumbled against your lips as he gradually pulled away.

"I was actually wondering when you'll crack,"

"Fuck off," he scoffed, squeezing your cheek gently upon seeing your playful smirk. His gaze softened, eyes evidently filled with affection, anyone could literally vouch for how whipped this man was."I love you, stay by me forever, please,"

"Say less, captain."

Hockey boys might've scared you once, but this time, one of them ended up mending your broken heart and won you over instead, and thankfully, he was here to stay. For a long time.

5K notes · View notes

changbunnies · 6 months ago

Text

Reverie (18+)

♡ Pairing: Prince!Hyujin x Lord's Daughter!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, historical au, love at first sight, fairy tale elements, angst, fluff, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 18.9k

♡ Summary: Staring out from your window everyday where you live confined, Hyunjin sees you- melancholic, lonely, beautiful; love at first sight. He wants to know you, to take you away from where you remain, doomed to be solitary. Spending your every moment daydreaming about the perfect life, meeting Hyunjin sparks a hope that you'd long since given up on- that your reverie can become your reality.

♡ Warnings: reader has an evil step-mother and step-sisters, involuntary confinement, themes of loneliness, isolation, and emotional + verbal abuse, reader is very touch starved and has low self-esteem from her mistreatment, past + referenced parental death (none are described) as well as having a parent who is sick, outdated marriage traditions, chan is featured and goes by chris, incredibly unrealistic because of the fairy tale romance inspo lol but it's a fun read, i hope!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): virgin reader + virgin hyunjin, petnames (darling), loss of virginity, nipple play, oral (f + m rec), unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: hey yall sorry its been a over month since my last post :') i was going thru a lot in my personal life that made it hard to write, as well as i HATED my first draft of this fic so i decided to entirely rewrite it gfsdhsdg but it's finally here after a lot of grief !! I honestly still don't like it all that much but I didn't want it to sit in my drafts any longer or rewrite for a third time so :') anyways i took a inspo for this one from rapunzel and cinderella, as well as a bit from sweeney todd (if you’ve seen the movie pls tell me you see the vision of hyunjin as jamie campbell bower’s character…) + a smidge of romeo and juliet.

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Sighing as he watches the scenery slowly pass him by through the carriage window, a deep frown adorns Hyunjin's face. He's no stranger to traveling, and normally he quite enjoys the break from the typical royal monotony, but this time around he can't bring himself to enjoy the sights that pass him by. The abundant flower fields, the surrounding lush forest on the edges, the perfectly blue sky.. none of them prevent the melancholy from setting in; because waiting for him at today's destination, in a manor just a fair few miles outside the castle city's walls, is yet another girl hoping to be his bride.

He's tired, to put it plainly; tired of meeting girl after girl who cares not for who he is as a person, but what his lineage offers them- and he expects today to go no differently. Why would he after the countless disappointments he's faced, after the myriad of times he's expected a night to end badly, and been proved right? And perhaps it is unfair of him to judge how the afternoon will go well before he's even met her, but his expectations have long since been set.

Hyunjin's royal attendant, who accompanies him to all his meetings and currently sits beside him within the carriage, does his best not to show how the prince's constant sighing grates on his nerves. Royal attendants should always be calm and patient in the face of frustration, and that is what Christopher strives to be; so he speaks to the prince as kindly as his dwindling patience will allow him. "Must you look so miserable? I imagine the girls won't take kindly to the prince looking at them with such disdain."

"Girls? Plural?" Hyunjin asks, groaning audibly when his attendant nods. Great. As if a blind setup with just one girl wasn't enough.. Still, he doesn't need to be reminded to mind his manners. He'll hold himself to the utmost royal standard when the time comes, as he always does- and he tells Chris as such. "I certainly hope so," Christopher responds with practiced ease, "There aren't many demoiselles left to meet, and your father will be disappointed if we return with more outright denials."

"I'm aware," Hyunjin replies simply, frustration still clear in his voice, though he tries his best to temper it. He knows his attendant is not wrong, and is simply trying to look out for him while also keeping Hyunjin's royal duty in mind. It's imperative that Hyunjin marry before his father's illness progresses to the point that he must concede the throne, and it's Christopher's job to ensure that Hyunjin doesn't forget that.

But still.. despite the circumstances begging for urgency, this is not a matter that Hyunjin is willing to bend on. He values true love, romance, genuine connection above all else; and so when he marries, he'll do it for real love, and real love only- even if it means the throne passes him by and goes instead to his uncle. Hyunjin doesn't understand, nor does he care, why the law requires him to marry to take the throne. He imagines it's related to ensuring that the noble line continues- something he ultimately pays no mind to and refuses to take seriously, though he knows he should.

Hyunjin is considered by most of the royal family to be stubborn by nature, a trait his father has told him countless times he gets from his late mother, but Hyunjin himself likes to believe he is reasonable. While he's not entirely malleable, he does act with the country's best interest in heart, and he swallows down all frustration and gracefully does whatever he feels he must in favor of doing what is best for the citizens.

It just so happens that marriage is the one thing on which he will not compromise; and stubborn or not, Hyunjin thinks he should be allowed this one thing. All he wants is genuine love with someone who places the same amount of value in that love as he does, and he never expected that such a wish would be too much to ask for. But either way, all he can do for now is straighten his posture, put on his best smile, and hope that against his expectations, today will bring him the love he’s been searching for.

Similarly, you too stare from your window; though not from a horse-drawn carriage, but from where your bedroom lies on the second floor of your late father's manor. According to your step-mother, a very important suitor is coming to meet your step-sisters today, and she has taken every necessary precaution in ensuring you would be out of the way for the evening. You were used to such treatment by now, and being locked away in your room and ignored for hours on end was no longer something that brought you the intense grief it once had.

Sad to say, it'd become a simple fact of life since your father passed; you were used to the loneliness and the sadness and the grief of having a family that did not love you as you loved them. Truly, you loved your step-mother and sisters, and back then you never would've guessed they secretly abhorred your existence. But your father passed, and with his passing came the truth- that she never loved your father, or you- just what he had; and she was raising her daughters to be just the same.

Against his wife's knowledge or wishes however, your father's will had stipulations she must follow if she wanted to inherit his estate- the most important of which being that she care for you, his precious, only biological daughter, as one of her own until the day you are wed and depart from the manor to be with your new family. Thanks to this clause, your step-mother provides for you; and though it is only the bare minimum amount necessary, it could certainly be worse. You still have your childhood bedroom, all your precious belongings, 3 hot meals a day, and the maids who helped your father raise you still checking in on you.

The maids are forbidden from interacting with you more than is necessary, as your step-mother makes it her mission to make you as miserable as possible within the limitations your father's will provides, but they do what they can. The small talk they provide while filling your bath with hot water, and the snuck in messages written on scraps of paper hidden beneath your dinner tray are often the highlights of your day. You are lonely, but not alone, and that keeps you going on the particularly hard days.

Days like today, where the padlock your step-mother installed outside your bedroom door is ordered to remain locked no matter what, ensuring that you are unable to leave and ruin her evening, or her plans. She intends to find her daughters wealthy, prestigious husbands- men that cannot be given the chance to look upon you, lest they decide they like you more than her biological daughters.

You wouldn't misbehave regardless of whether or not the lock was in place. You're so used to being locked away in your room that even were the lock to no longer exist, you don't think you'd even notice; because you wouldn't ever try to leave in the first place. And compounding on that, you don't think yourself particularly special or beautiful enough to "threaten" your sister's marriage prospects; all you'd do is needlessly subject yourself to reminders that you're lesser than when they inevitably gloss over you.

You simply.. exist. But in your step-mother's eyes, that's your greatest sin. She hates you, and your existence alone causes her great grief. The simple fact that you exist prevented her from truly obtaining what she wanted most; your father's wealth hinged on you being taken care of to obtain. And thus, she couldn't just throw you out and leave you to your fate as she originally intended; so she begrudgingly provides for you, the depth of her loathing coming out in passive-aggressive words, meals resentfully delivered, and a locked bedroom door where she can leave you for a time and pretend her greatest wish is true- that you don't exist.

Staring out your window is how you've come to spend most of your days. Daydreaming, listening to birds sing, watching deer graze and rabbits sprint across the fields and between the trees. You reread your books to the point you could recite them with ease, you fantasize about love and companionship and freedom, and you wonder if there will ever come a day where such joy can be yours. You suspect not; when you do marry, it'll likely be to some terrible man your step-mother chooses on the basis that they continue your misery.

But in the sanctity of your bedroom, inside your imagination and idle daydreams, you can pretend that true love and happiness waits for you. Where you are valued and cherished and adored, where you are wanted and craved, where a life without you in it cannot even be imagined, for it would be too painful for your lover to even consider.

Lost in thought as you are, you almost miss it when the carriage your step-mother and sisters are expecting comes into sight. And normally you would pull yourself away from the window, make sure you're out of sight from whomever exits the carriage, lest whoever your step-mother is having over recognize you. But this carriage is so different from the ones that typically arrive at the manor that it makes you curious.

It's fancy- easily the most extravagant and ornate carriage you've ever seen; not that you've seen many, but the point stands. It's clear that whomever your family is meeting today is no ordinary suitor. There’s a crest beholden on the door, one that seems vaguely familiar, and you wish you could place it as it would assuredly be a hint to who is arriving, but the memory of what family it comes from eludes you.

It’s been so long since you’ve been out to the city, or communicated with families your father was close with, that it's hard to recall the family crests you once so easily recognized. But whatever family it belongs to, one thing is clear- they are surely wealthy and prestigious to afford a carriage this grand. No wonder your step-mother wants you out of the way today; if a wealthy suitor somehow chooses you over her real daughters, that would be her worst nightmare.

You watch with bated breath as a man steps out from the left side of the carriage, a man you can tell from dress alone is some sort of attendant. He works his way around to the right of the carriage to open the door for whoever remains inside- the wealthy suitor being an obvious guess. And really, you should look away and mind your own business lest you risk angering your step-mother, but you can't help yourself. This is the closest thing to fresh entertainment you’ve had (and are going to have), and so you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away.

And oh, the man who steps out when the door is opened for him is breathtaking. Even at a distance, he’s positively ethereal- easily the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. And you are certain that, even with your lack of worldly experience, he is utterly without comparison. He’s pretty, impossibly pretty, with long black hair, half of which is tied back by a ribbon, rings adorning his fingers, ornate yet dainty bracelets that seem to perfectly match the necklaces he wears, and beautiful, pure white and dangly earrings that remind you of a teardrop in shape, all of which match his equally embellished doublet.

He looks so very grand, elegant, to the point that you feel absolutely unworthy to even be looking at someone so strikingly gorgeous and well dressed. God, if he chooses one of your step-sisters to marry, someone so clearly wealthy and beautiful and important.. you just know your step-mother will lord it over you as her greatest proof that they are better than you.

The bitter, hurt part of you half wished the man your sisters were meeting today would be boorish and unimpressive, but of course that’s not the case.. And it saddens you, strangely. You like to think yourself above pettiness, and you’d rather experience the world through a lens of kindness despite what you’ve suffered, but seeing someone so utterly perfect going to meet your sisters, and knowing how they will mock you and laugh in your face should he fall for one of them..

Maybe, somewhere deep down, you’re jealous. Jealous, and angry, and hurt, as you’ve always been, but tried not to acknowledge. And it’s not the perceived wealth you’re jealous of, or the possibility of a beautiful husband, but the chance for connection they have that you don’t. That they can meet someone like him and be given the chance to fall in love, while you are forced into isolation and monotony. It isn’t fair, and it never has been, but today of all days is where you feel that injustice most strongly.

You choke on the melancholy, your eyes well with tears that you try to blink away as your hands ball into fists in your lap. You shouldn’t have watched the window today or let your curiosity and boredom get the best of you- all you’ve done is make yourself impossibly sad. You begin to stand from your seat by the window, ready yourself to close the curtains and wallow in your bed for the rest of the evening, when suddenly, you freeze. Your hand unmoving on the curtain, eyes widening with the realization that your sister’s suitor is looking at you. And it's not as simple as a passing glance- no, he is staring at you.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened when he first saw you in the window, at first just passively looking over the manor and taking in the sight as he readied himself to enter, before his eyes fell upon you. And upon seeing you, he became completely and utterly enraptured by your beauty, in a way he’s never experienced with anyone he’s ever met before.

He can’t help but stare, can’t manage to tear his eyes away from your visage even when Chris calls his name. And when you stand to close the curtains, and your eyes travel to him and meet his gaze, his breath catches in his throat, his heart skips a beat before it races, and his face flushes to an impossibly bright pink.

How and why does he have this feeling? How is that you enchant him with just a glance, when others have failed to with much more? You’ve not yet truly met, nor spoken a single word, and yet he feels it firmly- a desire hereto unmatched, that does not follow preconceived notions of what is logical, the kind you would only read about in the great romantic works of playwrights and novelists. A feeling he never expected to be based in truth, but here he is now, feeling it for himself- love at first sight.

And if love at first sight is real and it is true, then he cannot wait to meet you. To learn your name and hear your voice and speak with you until your throats run dry. He’ll devote himself to learning everything about you, to carving your every word and thought into his memory. He wants to learn what it is about your soft, melancholic expression that he finds so entrancing, to discover what it is that causes his heart to stir in ways entirely foreign to him.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, Prince Hyunjin, Hyunjin-” Christopher tries every way possible to get the prince’s attention, letting out an exasperated sigh when Hyunjin finally turns back to him. He doesn’t even know what caught his attention- when he tried to follow the prince’s gaze, all he was met with was a window with its curtains pulled shut. “My apologies. I just-” Hyunjin starts, taking one last glance at the now empty window before turning back to his attendant. “Nevermind. Let’s just go inside.”

Chris quietly huffs his agreement, quickly offering the manor’s maids who were waiting on them his apologies in Hyunjins stead, as he is used to. He’s accustomed to not understanding what goes on inside the prince’s head, but at least he seems prepared now.. Almost happy, Chris would think if he didn’t know better. Regardless of its origin and whether or not he understands where it came from, he will welcome it- because it really is vital that Hyunjin choose a bride with haste.

The start of the evening goes as predictably as anticipated from that point on- the maids lead them to the great room, offering tea and freshly baked sweets while they wait. Hyunjin politely turns them down while Chris stands a comfortable distance away, there simply to keep an eye on the prince and observe how the arranged meeting proceeds. The lady of the manor enters the room after some time passes, bowing politely and apologizing for the delay before ushering her daughters into the room.

They’re dressed extravagantly, as expected, with expensive jewelry, perfectly laid hair, and tasteful makeup. They introduce themselves politely, though they erupt into quiet giggles afterwards, likely excited that one of them will potentially be chosen to marry the prince. Their mother shoots them a look, and it makes them clear their throats and cease their elated giggling, returning to proper posture with their hands folded in front of them, both smiling at him sweetly. But something’s wrong..

Hyunjin looks between the girls, their mother, and back to the girls, head tilting and brows furrowing in confusion; he doesn’t see the one from the window anywhere.. Shouldn’t she be here? “Isn’t there another?” he asks, and the dame’s eyes widen for a moment, a complex flash of emotions that Hyunjin doesn’t have enough time to fully decipher within them, before she reverts back to her previous calm, inviting demeanor.

“I believe I wrote in my proposal to the royal family that I have two, and only two, daughters. Perhaps there was a miscommunication between you and your men?” She suggests, and though it’s spoken kindly, Hyunjin gets the distinct impression that she wants to shut down any talk of a third daughter here and now. Christopher too is confused, but he apologizes to the dame, insisting the mistake is his fault, though it certainly isn’t.

The dame accepts the apology and swiftly moves on, though the tension still lingers. Even as she begins to talk at great length about how wonderful her daughters are and how lucky everyone involved would be should Hyunjin choose one of them to be his princess, there’s an edge beneath the kindly spoken words that hint towards how bothered his mistake made her. Her daughters too seem tense when he first questions if there is another, though by the time they are allowed to speak themselves all tension in them seems to melt away, instead focusing on singing their own praises and expressing their desire to see the royal castle.

It’s so jarring, tense, awkward, that it completely prevents Hyunjin from being able to focus on a single word the girls say. Ordinarily, he would not bat an eye at someone correcting a mistake in his speech or for having come to an incorrect conclusion, as it is imperative that a prince goes about his dealings with as correct as information as possible. But that being said, the dame’s reaction rubs him the wrong way, especially when paired with the nervous flash in her daughter’s eyes as their bodies tensed..

If he was simply mistaken, it would be natural and correct for her to clear up any misgivings he has about her family and estate kindly- there’d be no reason to address him with such underlying hostility or be on the defensive, as if he’d brought up a point that needs to be fiercely fought against. The emotion that flickered in their eyes, the terse words filled with faux-niceties, the shift in body language.. They suggest to Hyunjin only one thing- that a third daughter is in fact here; and for some strange reason, the lady of the house doesn’t want him to meet her.

But why would that be? The ideas that cross his mind make him woefully unable to focus on anything spoken to him. Maybe you’re already promised to someone else, maybe you’ve been married before and are now widowed, living in your old family home while stricken with grief.. Maybe you’re a cousin simply having a visit that by pure chance coincides with the prince arriving too, or maybe he imagined you somehow. But could that really be? You were so real, that doesn’t seem possible..

“But what do you think? .. Prince Hyunjin..?” One of the girls asks, and when he doesn’t reply, Chris clears his throat and steps forward to subtly nudge the prince, breaking him from his thoughts. “Allow me to apologize. The prince is.. tired these days. He’s got a lot on his plate, as I’m sure you understand,” Chris says, shooting Hyunjin a look that begs him to take the lead and finish cleaning the mess he’s made.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Uhm- perhaps you could allow me a small break? And then I promise you’ll both have my undivided attention,” Hyunjin suggests, being sure to offer them his most charismatic smile in the hopes they’ll look past how inattentive he’s been thus far. They agree easily, giggling and lightly blushing, assuring him a break is good for everyone (which he knows isn’t true, but it’s polite of them, at least.)

This time, he accepts the tea when it’s offered to him, chugging it down in a display that goes completely against the manners that have been drilled into him. He asks to be led to the nearest restroom, splashes water on his face and wills himself to focus on the task at hand. And though it comes with great difficulty, he forces himself to pay strict attention to every word spoken to him from that point onward, though your image continues to exist in the back of his mind the entire time.

Hyunjin steps out of the manor with a sigh, finding himself entirely drained after his meeting with the two sisters and their incredibly duplicitous mother. Originally, he’d planned to leave before nightfall, but they somehow managed to rope him into having dinner with them, and to say it was exhausting would be an understatement. Now he stands in the light of the moon, deep frown returning as he waits for preparations to leave to be made- because he absolutely refuses to stay here until morning.

As expected, once he broke himself out of his fog and started paying attention to what they were saying, they were incredibly vain and equally daft, and the more he spoke to them, the clearer it became that they weren’t fit to someday sit on a throne. It was extremely obvious that they were vying for increased fortune and pride- and at the behest of their mother specifically. To old herself to marry into the royal family, it seemed she was content to allow her daughters to do the social climbing on her behalf.

Not that her daughter’s are completely ignorant of this plot- he’s sure they’re well aware of the benefits if one of them becomes a princess, and are well instructed and prepped on how best to appeal themselves to a noble’s proclivities. Unfortunately for them, Hyunjin is unlike most nobles, and he takes the task of one day rearing his country very seriously- much too seriously to marry someone selfish, and without grace or tact, nor whom he fails to have a genuine connection with. Beauty alone won’t be enough to win him over.

Saying that however.. He can’t seem to stop thinking about the strikingly gorgeous girl he saw from the window. He feels himself a hypocrite, saying it takes more than good looks to win his heart, and yet still finding himself hung up on the mysterious beauty in the window. He looks up to that window, and sees nothing- the curtains are drawn, the room pitch dark, and there’s a part of him that considers the dame’s words true. There is no third girl, and what he saw was perhaps a phantom, a trick of the light, a mysterious cousin, or..

Well, he doesn’t know what, but he can’t allow himself to continue to linger on a girl that may not even be real, or obtainable if she does exist. "What's going on with you tonight? You never have a good time at these things, but you've been more off than is.. typical of you," Chris suddenly speaks up after Hyunjin sighs once more, and the prince frowns as he looks to his attendant.

A lot weighs on his mind; more than he feels he can even begin to explain. The way Hyunjin's thoughts swim in his head like a whirlpool- can he even begin to express himself in a way that is coherent and understandable to his most trusted attendant? Regardless, he has to start somewhere, and so he tries. “I’m afraid that I’ll never find what I’m looking for. Those girls were.. vapid to say the least. I’ve no interest in marrying a social climber, but.. I am beginning to think that perhaps I have no choice.”

Chris' expression softens as he offers Hyunjin a gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder. There is little he can do to make the prince feel better about his circumstance, he knows; he often has to remind Hyunjin to keep his royal duty in mind, and though it doesn't always show, he does feel bad that the prince is forced into such a situation.

It can't be easy bearing such a burden, and Chris certainly doesn't envy the struggle to find a bride under such constraints, or the responsibilities that will come to Hyunjin once he is wed. “Well, don’t fret too hard about that just yet. We still have a few more interested parties we’ve yet to meet. And maybe the universe wants to show you the wrong first, so that when you meet who is right.. you’ll know,” Chris says earnestly, trying his best to show the prince support.

"Mm, maybe," Hyunjin mumbles, desperately hoping his attendant is right. He hoped you would be that right person, but if fate deems it right to show him heartache and to put him through trials before happiness can come to him then he will just have to accept that. Chris frowns, but knows there is not much else he can offer to ease the prince's worries; so he instead turns his attention to the carriage to check on the progress for departure.

“Looks like we’re ready to depart,” Chris says after the coachman finishes adorning the carriage with lanterns suitable for the night ride back to the castle, "Maybe you'll feel better after some rest. And if you'd like, we can talk some more about this tomorrow." Hyunjin simply nods, following his attendant to the carriage with an immense weight still on his shoulders.

Despite what he logically knows, he can't shake his sadness over the fact that his burden wasn't lifted this evening, the irrational sorrow that comes from his hopes being dashed- that the beautiful girl he saw in the window could not be met.. But he tries to think that maybe it’s for the best that there wasn’t a third daughter for him to meet after all. Given the influence of their mother, she’d likely have been just as bad as her sisters, and that would’ve surely broken his heart beyond the ache he feels now.

Chris approaches the left-side door first, opening it swiftly and then standing to the side, motioning for Hyunjin to enter first, as is customary. Hyunjin places a hand on the doorframe and a foot on the iron step, ready to step inside in the carriage, but takes one last glance at the manor before he does. And there, a glimmer of hope- the image of you, just barely there peeking through the curtains, the faint light of a candle flickering in your hand.

Though a considerable distance away, he can see your eyes widen when you realize he sees you yet again, gasping and quickly moving away from the window, the light of your candle disappearing with your image. “She’s there!” Hyunjin exclaims, instantly separating himself from the carriage, and taking an unconscious step back towards the manor. “Who’s there?” Chris questions as he follows Hyunjin’s gaze to the window, confused to, again, find absolutely no one and nothing of note.

"I.. don't know who exactly, but she was there, I saw her," Hyunjin continues, and while Chris is still utterly baffled, he does see that the curtains are slightly swaying despite the window being closed- meaning someone was there, and caused them to shift by either touching them, or walking past them. He looks back to Chris, sees the hesitant, puzzled expression, and tries to explain himself in the briefest, but most concise way possible.

“I saw her in the window when we first arrived too! I asked the dame about her, thinking she may have had another daughter, but you heard how she reacted- she brushed me off so coldly.” "Well.. maybe she was telling the truth? It's possible she's simply a maid," Chris suggests, but Hyunjin quickly shakes his head. "She isn't. I assure you, after seeing their maids I wouldn't confuse her for one.. She's entirely unlike any of them."

"Okay.. So she's not a maid. But there could still be a reasonable explanation for everything," Chris says, and oh no, he can instantly tell where Hyunjin's mind is going. "Exactly! So I'm going to meet her, and find out what that reason is," Hyunjin says, wasting no time in walking back up to the manor. “What? How exactly do you plan on doing that when the dame clearly didn’t want you to meet her?” Chris quietly exclaims as he follows Hyunjin towards the direction of your window.

“There’s a trellis near her window, and I intend to climb it,” Hyunjin smiles, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable plan and not at all insane for him to do. “Go back to the carriage, and instruct the coachman to drive it down the road and out of sight. I don’t want the ladies of the house to know I’m still here if they happen to look out from their windows,” Hyunjin instructs, and again, Chris is absolutely floored by the prince. “Your Highness, you- you can’t be serious,” he quietly exclaims again, though he can tell Hyunjin is entirely serious about all of this.

"Just do this for me, please? I need to do this- for my peace of mind if nothing else," Hyunjin tells him, and though Chris still doesn't understand why the prince is so adamant about meeting you, he can see the sincerity and the drive in his eyes, and so he concedes. “Fine, just.. try to be discreet and don’t take too long, okay? And don’t make her uncomfortable!” Chris warns and Hyunjin thanks his attendant warmly before turning his attention back to your window.

He approaches the manor carefully, tiptoeing up to the trellis that will act as his ladder to your window. He places a foot into one of the slots and carefully adds his weight, making sure it’ll hold before he begins to climb it in earnest. He’s never done anything like this, but he knows he’d regret it if he didn’t at least try to meet the woman who so easily captured his heart with just a glance, while desperately, and maybe vainly, hoping he has a chance with you.

Hyunjin knocks softly on the window once he reaches it, doing his best to make it loud enough for you to hear, but not so loud that he would alarm anyone who may be nearby. Though your room is dark, the moon offers just enough illumination through the curtains that he can make you out. And while unlit, you are still holding the candle in one hand, while the other is nervously placed over your heart.

You can't believe this happening- the devastatingly handsome man meant to be wooed by one of your sisters saw you again, and is now at your window? Your heart is racing out of control, you don't know what to do or what to think seeing him there, waiting for you to approach the window, approach him.

You didn't even expect to see him again when you stepped to your window and peeked out; you simply saw lantern light from your window whilst preparing for bed, and it piqued your interest. You wanted to know what was going on, of course you did, so you looked, fully expecting the answer to be guards doing an uncharacteristically late sweep of the grounds, or maids sneaking out to meet the secret lovers you knew them to have.

But what you saw instead was the beautiful man from earlier in the process of stepping inside his grand carriage- and as if sensing you were watching, he turned to the manor, his eyes instantly falling on you. Just as you had this evening, you gasped and quickly shuffled away from the window, blowing out your candle as your heart pounded in your chest. Several seconds passed, and with trembling steps, you stepped back to the window and took one more cautious glance outside, only to see him approaching the manor, clearly intending to seek you out.

You gasped again, moving away from the window once more, mind reeling and pulse quickening. And now he’s here, having clearly climbed the trellis up to your window, hope in his eyes as he looks at you and waits. Swallowing, you carefully set the candle down on your nearby nightstand before you take cautious steps back towards the window, opening it ever so slightly. “May I come in?” he asks quietly, likely recognizing that speaking at full volume would be unwise, “I wish to speak with you.”

His voice is as silky and pretty as you imagined, and it positively jolts you. Everything about him seems impossibly perfect- part of you thinks that you've must've already fallen asleep, that you're tucked in bed and having a vivid dream based on the events of the day. But no, you've never dreamed as vividly as this, and you'd certainly remember if you'd crawled into bed after checking the lantern light from the window.

And that leaves you with a dilemma; the man, as gorgeous as he is, is still a stranger- and certainly you can't just let a strange man enter your room through your window.. That goes against everything your father ever taught you about safety. So you hesitate, observing him carefully for a moment.

And maybe it's just the fact that he's beautiful, or your yearning for connection that makes you want to trust him, even if it makes no logical sense to do so. You can't help but think he looks genuine and sincere, and well.. you can't ignore how desperately you desire to talk to someone, anyone, for more than the brief amount you're allowed to with your maids. Still, even if you crave connection with someone, you should be careful who you speak to shouldn't you?

He notices the hesitancy, recognizes what kind of situation he's imposing on you, and so he speaks up again, "Or I can stay here and we just talk through the window? If that's okay with you." Hyunjin knows he's being unreasonable and getting way too ahead of himself in his desire to speak with you, and it's crucial that he does his utmost to show you that he has no intention of making you uncomfortable.

Really, you should turn him down; but logic has left you, and truth be told you don't entirely trust that he can stand at the top of the trellis and support his own weight for much longer. So, you open your window further, granting him permission to step inside in your bedroom. He crawls in through your window as quietly as he can manage, smiling at you when he's fully inside. His smile is timid, and a bit awkward- this is easily the most nervous he’s ever felt, and he knows he’s going about meeting you completely backwards, but what other choice did he have?

Your mother, aunt, or whoever she is to you- he doubts she would’ve allowed him the chance to meet you. Her words and body language were much too passive aggressive to lead him to believe she’d meet the request to speak with you kindly, nor does he think she'd take kindly to being insinuated a liar. Additionally, it was highly unlikely that she’d willingly and truthfully divulge information about you or answer his questions. And so it led him to this- his fateful first meeting with the girl of his dreams happening within her moonlit bedroom.

He's completely out of his depth and unsure of himself or anything he's doing, but he holds out his palm, offering for you to place your hand in his. You blink, look up and down between his hand and his patient expression, and then you remember- oh, right, proper introductions. The setting is unorthodox, but it seems he still has it in mind to be polite and correct; as much as is possible, anyways.

You hesitate a moment, but ultimately place your hand in his, and he bows to you, lifting your hand to his mouth and placing a chaste kiss just above the knuckle. It's a simple, proper greeting, one that most people your age are entirely accustomed to, but it's been so long since you experienced it that it makes your skin erupt in goosebumps and heart thump erratically in your chest.

And there's the fact that he's jaw droppingly gorgeous- that certainly doesn't help.

You do your best to collect yourself when he straightens back up and looks at you once more. "I'm Hyunjin," he tells you in case you don't know, voice still as soft as it was at your window, a near whisper, "would you tell me your name, please?" This whole thing is entirely out of order and backwards, but you politely curtsey after offering him your name, though it feels silly to do so in your night chemise. And something about the way he looks at you makes your face burn hotter than it ever has.

All he’s heard is you speak your name, but he already considers your voice to be just as pretty as you are- he hopes he’ll get to hear it far beyond this single night. "If I may, I want to ask.. Do you know who I am? Or why I came here today?" He asks, looking directly into your eyes as he awaits your answer. You swallow, the eye contact making your heart skip a beat and pulse climb, but you steady yourself the best you can to answer. "You're.. a suitor who came to meet my sisters. But I didn't know your name until you told me it."

Hyunjin's eyes flicker with unfamiliar emotion as he takes in your answer- he knew it! You're no ordinary girl, nor a housemaid with an unusually lavish room. And what strikes him, apart from the confirmation that you're related to the girls he met downstairs, is what you said about him. You didn't know his name, don't know who he is apart from a potential suitor to your sisters.

He still doesn't understand why you weren't allowed to meet him, but it gives him hope- that if you are unwed, your love can be genuine. You won't marry him for title or wealth or power, but for who he is as a person. In the 4 corners of your bedroom, his name holds no weight, and that's all he's ever wanted.

But he should ask now, before he gets too ahead of himself and breaks his own heart, or lets a leap in logic carry him far beyond where rationality can reach him- ask if you are already promised to another. "Are you betrothed?" Hyunjin asks, and you quickly shake your head, surprised by the way he smiles in a mix of joy and relief to know you are unwed. Is that.. a good thing?

You're not even sure why you shook your head so vehemently when he first asked, as if you wanted there to be no mistake. Why would it matter to him if you are going to be married to someone or not? But something about his smile tells you it matters to him very much, though it is impossible for you to fathom why that could be. "Why do you ask..?" you question hesitantly, unsure of what you even hope to hear in response.

"Since I first saw you in the window, I've wanted to know you," he tells you earnestly, and your heart once again skips a beat. You knew he saw you, and you knew that were he perceptive enough to tell you aren't a maid he'd likely have questions about you or lingering curiosity. But it still surprises you that he shows this much interest- that it's more to him than just a passing question he'd be content to forget about in a day's time.

“Why didn’t you ask my mother then?” you ask him, though you suspect you know the answer. It’s not that he’s trying to solve a mystery or investigate why a seemingly innocuous girl is tucked away out of sight from visitors- and while you’re sure he’d welcome the answers to such questions, it’s more than that. For some strange reason, it’s just you- you as a person that he wants to know.

And you don’t know what to do with that. Your existence is so often ignored and trivialized, you can’t begin to understand why a glance of you in the window is enough to drive him to seek you out. You can’t understand what it is about you that is worth this, worth the curiosity and the climb to your window. Why would anyone want to speak to you so badly? You’re not special enough to warrant this.

“I did ask, and I didn’t like the answer,” Hyunjin says, and you blink in surprise. You can easily imagine that your step-mother would dismiss your existence when asked about you, or say something along the lines of “she doesn’t matter,” or “don’t worry about her, she’s nobody,”- so it’s not that that surprises you. What surprises you is that he heard an answer and not only didn’t accept it, but said he didn’t like it. Why?

Try as you might, you can't understand his motivations. Even if he could tell there was more that your step-mother wasn't telling him, why does he care so much about who you are? All visitors before Hyunjin who have stolen a glance at you either never asked about you, or have accepted her answers at face value, and it made sense that they did- because what reason did they have to push for the truth, or meet you regardless of her wishes?

“I’m interested in you, and I didn’t believe what I was told. I want to know you,” he continues, reiterates his sentiment, and you feel utterly frozen. All you can manage to do is blink up at him, your breath and words caught in your throat. And you realize your hand still rests in his, and you’re sure he can feel the way it trembles- from confusion, from nerves, from the simple act of even being held by someone for the first time since you were a child. But he doesn’t let go, and you don’t take it away- because he’s interested in you, and you want to know what that means, want to cling to the possibility that you can have the companionship that has eluded you for years.

“But.. why?” you finally ask, mind reeling from the possibilities. Regardless of what your step-mother may have told him, there’s one thing that she’s never wrong about- that you’re nobody, nothing, that your existence is a hindrance and you’re better off shoved aside where you can’t impose on her. You used to challenge that thought, but you’ve long since lost the will to fight against it, often finding yourself believing it to be true. And since you’re not special, or important, or particularly pretty, why is he so interested in you? You just don’t get it.

"If you'll forgive me for being forward.. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. And I know it's presumptuous of me, and perhaps shallow, to want to meet you so badly for that alone but.. I couldn't let the image of you go. I had to take the chance to find out who you are," Hyunjin spills his thoughts freely, making his desires and motivations clear.

And just as before, it leaves you completely stunned. What he's saying.. that can't be right. You? The most beautiful he's ever seen? That feels like something you should be saying to him- Hyunjin is easily the most radiant and ethereal person you've ever seen, but he's saying all this about you?

You're rendered speechless, face burning impossibly hot as the words repeat themself in your mind on a loop. "I've got to go," he continues, slowly letting go of your hand as he prepares to return to the window, "but I want- I hope you’ll allow me to see you again." I hope you'll give me a chance to win your heart, he wants to add, but he's already been much more forward than he'd ever imagined himself to be, and he doesn't want to jeopardize anything that might be budding.

He steps back to the window and you follow, watching as he readies himself to climb back down the trellis he used to reach you. "We'll meet again?" he asks after settling his weight on the trellis, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. It feels foolish, and a bit naive to wish so hard that you'll desire to see him again; all he can do now is hope the impression he made is enough to allow you defy your sense of logic, just as you've done to him simply by looking his way.

You smile softly, the first smile you've shown him, the first you've done in God knows how long- and you nod as you promise him you will. You don't know how it will work or where it will lead, if anywhere, but you think you'd regret it if you didn't at least try. You miss companionship, you miss having someone to talk to, you miss smiling and the feeling of comfort and joy that comes from being close with someone who understands and knows you. You don't want to let this opportunity to have someone in your life slip you by.

Hyunjin's heart jumped when you smiled at him, and he returned the smile brightly as he said his goodbyes, heart still thumping and smile still plastered on his face as he descended the trellis. He looks back to the window, waving to you when he sees you watching from between the curtains, a giddy feeling building in his stomach when you wave back. Following the dirt road away from the manor, he meets back up with Chris at the carriage, happily relaying everything that happened to him on their way back to the castle.

You retired to your bed once Hyunjin was out of sight, but found it hard to sleep following your interactions. Curled up under the blankets, eyes closed and heavy, ready to sleep, but mind racing and replaying the night's events. There's a chance that this is a mistake, but you don't think you'll regret having taken the chance- because the hope and joy you feel now is the most delightful feeling you've experienced since you were a girl, and that feeling alone is worth whatever trouble it may bring your way.

It's hard to explain in words the emotions that come from having Hyunjin close to you. From having just a few short months ago gone from spending your nights restless from loneliness, to now lying awake in bed wondering if tonight will be one of the nights you hear his tap on your window. Going from hardly ever speaking a word, to now talking so much that your throat aches. To never feeling the warmth of another, to lingering touches and reluctant parting of held hands heating your skin.

You suppose what you can say is that it feels like the hole in your heart is being mended; a void wrenched open by loss and sadness slowly repaired with each clandestine meeting you share. It's bittersweet, sometimes; your melancholy was easier to ignore when you didn't have someone to share your thoughts and feelings with. It’s strange, how gaining what you were missing makes the bad in your life hurt much worse. It awakens a new fear within you- that one day, Hyunjin will tire of you, and you'll be alone once more.

As if knowing your fears, irrational or not, Hyunjin makes it no secret how he feels about you, or what he hopes the two of you may become. Besides, the very reason he first came to the manor was to answer a marriage proposal- so of course he makes it clear how much he likes you. And though you're aware of his feelings, you don't feel any sort of pressure or expectation from him, nor does he ever make you uncomfortable. You get the distinct impression that should you ever reject him, Hyunjin would move on gracefully, even if it weighed heavily on his heart.

All that being said, he hasn't blatantly asked you to be his bride yet, though it is obvious he wishes to. And putting aside what is rational, proper, or logical, you don't think you'd turn him down were he to ask you now. Hyunjin has become the highlight of your days, the hope that keeps you going when loneliness and sadness acutely strike you. He's radiant and intelligent and effortlessly witty; and you can still remember the way his eyes lit up the first time he made you laugh.

You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing too loudly, and Hyunjin's eyes crinkled as his smile beamed. He told you it was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard, that happiness suited you much more than sadness, that he hoped you'd smile and laugh more than you'd frown. And you think as long as you're with him, that'll be an easy promise to keep.

You've confided in him much of your life, your thoughts, and your feelings. He's an attentive listener, as well as empathetic and compassionate. And while you're sure to most it's the bare minimum, it felt nice to be listened to for once; to cry openly without being ignored, or mocked on the off chance you were acknowledged. It was nice to be held and gently consoled as you let out years worth of pent up tears flow out, though by the end you were always greatly embarrassed by your red eyes and puffy face.

Hyunjin, who wasn't fond of your step-mother from the start, liked her even less after you'd explained what you'd gone through following the loss of your father. It was interesting, as well as vindicating, hearing in detail his first impression of her, and how accurately he pin-pointed her personality and motivations. He told you he was used to dealing with people such as her, and his ability to nail her down was proof enough of that.

That's why he likes you, he said; likes that you're nothing like your step-mother, or step-sisters, or the countless other people he's met that hold the same motivations and values as them. There was no denying that his attraction to you started with your appearance, he admitted so himself right from the start, but you believe him when he says he's not superficial enough to marry for looks alone.

Whether you're as pretty as he says you are is still a matter of contention within yourself, but you try not to reject the compliments; especially not when he speaks them so earnestly. You don't find yourself special, but maybe it's enough that he does. And you recognize that everything about your relationship with Hyunjin is unconventional, but you don't dwell much on it.

You never would've had the chance to meet someone normally, and you welcome the solace and joy he brings you just by being near. When you think further upon how close the two of you have become, you wonder if words like "friend" or "companion" are enough. You wonder if this is what it means to be in love, if longing and desire and joy are really as hand in hand as they were always portrayed in your novels.

His tap on your window comes earlier than you expect it to today, elation spreading through your veins instantly as you rush to the window to open it for him. Normally, Hyunjin doesn't come to you until the sun has long since fallen, but tonight he arrives while the last specs of sunset still linger on the horizon. "You're early," you comment simply, a small smile spreading on your lips as he steps his way inside to your bedroom.

"Couldn't wait anymore," he replies, meeting you with a soft smile of his own. Summer brought with it longer days, which meant longer waits for Hyunjin to arrive at your window, and less time spent together before he had to rush back to his home. He pulls you into an embrace, gentle and warm, and you squeeze him tight for a small moment before you allow yourself to melt in his arms.

His hands rest comfortably on your back, lingering even as you pull slightly away to look up at him. "Your hair has gotten longer," you muse, taking a soft strand into your hand and admiring it between your fingers. "Has it?" he asks, having not noticed himself; it's hard to notice subtle changes considering he sees it everyday. "Do you like it?" he follows up, ever so slightly tilting his head as he awaits your answer.

"I do," you reply as you let it fall from your fingertips, now letting your hand fall to his shoulder, "it's pretty." He hums in response, smile turning bashful. Since becoming more comfortable in his presence, you speak your mind more openly, which also means he receives more compliments from you. There's a shyness that lingers, a blush often overtaking your cheeks after an admittance of finding him pretty, or handsome, or beautiful, but it never stops you from saying what you truly think.

Hyunjin is used to receiving compliments; and it's not meant to sound vain, but that's the reality of being the prince. And because he is used to them, he is normally unaffected by such words; but with you it's different. He isn't blind, of course, he knows he's conventionally attractive- but it's the intent of the words that matter. Unlike others he's met, you are genuine and sincere. You don't speak with ulterior motives, you don't say things unless you earnestly mean them.

So, when you say he's pretty, he takes great pride in it; because you aren't saying it out of a sense of obligation or gain. You just like him, and he likes you- that's all there is to your interactions. The affection you share is the realest thing he's ever felt, refreshing and authentic.

You know he's the prince, though he hasn't yet told you himself; you overheard your sisters speaking about it to each other just a few days after their arranged meeting. They were by your door, loud voices carrying and infiltrating your space. You think you were meant to hear it- vain and confident in themselves as they are, you suspect they wanted to rub it in that one of them would marry the prince.

Not that you cared- unbeknownst to them, you already met him yourself, and you’re the one the prince really shows interest in. And his identity shocked you at first, but as you thought about it more, it made sense; his impressive carriage, his elegant attire, the way he carried himself and spoke, why you thought you recognized his family crest- it all clicked.

Given all you've learned about him, what he thinks about the world and what he values, it makes sense that he wouldn't tell you right away, and you don't hold it against him. Going your whole life questioning the motives of others, and perceptively picking up on their dishonesty.. it must be hard. You can't even imagine it.

In turn, Hyunjin can't imagine how hard your own sufferings have been, his heart aching terribly for you whenever you put your sadness to words. There's a strange sort of comfort that comes from it however; your lived experiences being so entirely different, but aligning in just a way that leads you to understand one another.

Still, there were many times that Hyunjin wished the solutions to your problems were easy- that he could just use his authority as prince of the realm to give you your life back. Unfortunately, he thinks his interference would only make things worse for you; wish as he may that he could simply order your step-mother to be kinder to you, there's no way he can do so without great risk to your well-being.

It's frustrating and saddening to realize how little his power can do to help the one he cares most deeply for. There were equally times he wishes he could just take you away from all that hurts you; but until you either agree to wed him, or he becomes king after marrying another, he has no authority over who may or may not reside in the castle.

His greatest hope, of course, is that you'll wish to marry him. He doesn't even want to think about the devastation that will be wrought upon him should you reject him. You like each other, that much is true and plainly obvious, but marriage, especially to someone destined to rule, may not be something you want. And besides that, he's always wanted his marriage to have real affection tied to it- and until he knows definitively where your heart lies, he will be patient.

Though they sound like complaints, Hyunjin actually loves the progression of your relationship. Yes, it saddens him that as things stand now he can't remove you from the source of your pain or change things, but there is an equal amount of good that has come from his experiences climbing to your window.

His heart beats fast and erratic whenever you look at him and smile, your soft, small giggles and sweet laughs make his ears and face burn pleasantly. It doesn't always show, given his natural charisma and learned manners, but you fluster him more than you realize. His brain stutters when you compliment him, his body crawls with goosebumps when you initiate a hug or hold his hand, he unconsciously holds his breath when your face ever comes slightly too close to his own.

Though his father still urges him to bring home a bride sooner rather than later, he has managed to quell his father's worries by describing his affection for you. It's also what allows him to regularly leave the castle to meet you, with Chris himself also attesting to how genuine the prince's infatuation for you is.

And it's moments like this, when you're in his arms and looking up at him with your soft doe eyes and sweet smile that he feels the urge to kiss you the most. Before he can think about it much longer, you're separating from his hold, grabbing his hand and leading him to your bed with a softly spoken, "Shall we?"

It's your routine when he visits to sit or lie in your bed together, talking endlessly until the time comes that he has to depart. Sometimes you fall asleep, in which case he just indulges in the feeling of holding you close, stroking your head until the chirp of birds begins with the start of the sunrise, alerting him it's time to go.

Sometimes talking is too hard, and all you want is to feel him close and let your negative feelings wash away in his hold, and let them be replaced by his warmth. Sometimes you run out of things to say and simply enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence. Oftentimes, Hyunjin just being in your space with you is all you need to be happy.

There's an unspoken hope there that you share- that someday soon you'll be able to fall asleep together, to wake together, to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, for every moment to be spent with the person that rouses your once dormant heart. There’s still part of you that questions if you can really be loved by someone as good as him, but it’s what you hope for more than you’ve ever hoped for anything.

"Wait-" Hyunjin calls softly as you begin to step towards the bed, and you stop, turning back to look at him with a curious tilt of the head and questioning eyes. He swallows, beginning to lose his nerve as you stare at him. He wants to tell you how badly he wants to kiss you, to ask if it's something you'll allow him, if you crave it as much as he does.

"What is it?" you ask, squeezing his hand when you feel the slight anxious tremble. His face reddens, and he internally curses himself for having such difficulty. He once felt it was entirely unlike him to be reduced to such shyness, but you bring it out of him with just a look. "I just.. uh, well-" he starts, but before he can get much further, you hear a sound from the hallway that makes you jump.

"Shit-" you mutter in a harsh whisper, the sound of a metal object clinking just outside your door. Hyunjin doesn't realize what it is just yet, but the sound is one you can instantly recognize- it's the sound of your step-mother taking the padlock into her hands. You scramble to push Hyunjin in the direction of your bathroom as you hear the lock begin to turn, afterwards standing near your open window as calmly and naturally as you can manage.

Hyunjin doesn't have any time to think about what's happening, or to dwell on the sound he heard outside your door before he hears it start to swing open. All he can do is hide himself behind your bathroom door, and pray that whoever is entering your bedroom has no reason to step inside your bathroom.

Your step-mother enters your room with suspicion clear on her face, looking around the room with narrow eyes and scrunched brows. You take a quick, cautious glance towards your bathroom, relieved to notice that Hyunjin isn't in immediate sight. Thank God, you think; you don't know how she'd react to seeing the prince inside your bedroom, and you don't want to find out.

"Who are you talking to?" she asks, taking a stern step closer to you. You swallow down your nerves the best you can as you prepare yourself to answer- you can't give her any reason to suspect you're lying. "I was talking to the birds," you answer, pointing to where a nest of them rests on the tree nearest to your window.

The family of birds are settling in for sleep now that the sun has sunk, and you hope your step-mother finds it believable enough that you'd talk to them as they ready themselves for bed. Her eyes follow where you point, easily spotting the birds beginning to tuck their heads down, and she scoffs. She could've sworn she heard another voice replying to you but.. that'd be impossible, wouldn't it? Who would even be here talking to you?

Yes, though she hates to admit when she's wrong, she was likely just mistaken. The other voice she thought she heard was likely just you supplementing a conversation you wish you could be having with another person. There were never two people- just you, and the lonely life she inflicts upon you. So she smiles, condescending as ever as she speaks, "Yes, well. I suppose that's all you can do."

Your step-mother takes one more cursory glance around your room before she decides she's satisfied and turns to exit your bedroom. You breathe a sigh of relief when she finally steps out the door, and Hyunjin steps out from your bathroom just as the sound of the lock on your bedroom door clicks shut. He recognizes what it is more clearly after hearing the sound of the lock a second time, and his heart sinks at the realization of what that sound means.

"Hyunjin?" you whisper in question as he walks right past you, heading straight for your closed bedroom door. He takes the doorknob in his hand, twists it and pushes the door- and what he feared to be true is immediately confirmed. The door doesn't open, harshly stopped as the lock clanks against the door from the motion of it trying to be opened- you're locked in. Why are you locked in?

When he turns back to you, you say nothing; just look at him with those deeply saddened eyes that twists his heart into knots. "You're.. are you always locked in your room?" he asks, though he dreads the answer- and he suspects he already knows. You feel as if you'll sob if you speak, so you don't- you just nod.

His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, a complex mix of sadness and rage on your behalf beginning to boil in his veins. He knew your step-mother to be vindictive, vain, materialistic, mean, but this.. It was a cruelty positively unheard of, and he couldn't fathom why anyone would have so much hatred in their heart as to resort to this.

He clenches his fists, takes a breath, tries to quell the intensity of his anger before he steps back to you. Your eyes have fallen to the floor, head hung low, hands balled into fists. Hyunjin softly calls your name once he's returned to your side, and you look up at him, eyes glassy as you blink away the tears that try to form. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you to his chest and hugs you tight.

Your reaction is delayed, the complex whir of emotions dulling your senses, but you eventually return the hug. You hold him the tightest you ever have, your hands gripping and bunching the fabric of his linen shirt. Carefully, Hyunjin leads you to your bed, where he knows you find the most comfort. You crawl into bed as soon as he pulls back the blankets, practically curling into a ball as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Hyunjin lies next to you, pulls the blankets up to your chests once he's settled, holding you once more after you move in closer. You press yourself close to him, curling your limbs around his, clinging to him in a desperate need to stay as close as possible. Head pressed into his chest, he softly strokes your head, whispering comforts to you until he feels your body begin to lose its built tension.

Now more than ever, Hyunjin is firm in his belief that he can't let things stay this way- there has to be some way he can use his power to help you. He doesn't want to walk away after knowing the true depth of all that you suffer, he wouldn't forgive himself if he did. Again, he calls to you softly, and when you look up at him he asks, "Do you want to leave? Get away from here?"

You blink, processing the question and wondering how you should answer. Unfortunately, the answer isn't an entirely simple yes or no. The truth is, you wish you didn't have to; this is your father’s manor, the house you grew up in, and though you've suffered greatly since his passing, you find it hard to let go of the happy memories that came before the tragedy.

Despite that, even if he were still here now, it is true that you'd have to leave eventually; you'd marry someday, and married women always leave their childhood homes behind when they wed. Still, when you think of never seeing the manor again, of never returning to your childhood bedroom or talking again with the maids who helped raise you, you feel impossibly sad.

You wish you didn't feel so tied to your home, but it's hard to let go, even when you know it is what's best for you. Additionally, when you did let your mind wander and think about what sort of life you'd lead if you ran away, you realized you were impossibly scared of the world. You've been locked away for so long that you don't remember the way to the places you once recognized, all your connections have been severed, and getting to the castle city, even if you did remember the way, would take days on foot.

Add the fact that you'd have no money, and no way to prepare food for the trip without getting caught, you never let yourself entertain the thought of running away past the occasional frivolous daydream. Sure, you could climb from your window and leave without getting caught, but you could never convince yourself that it was worth trying.

But now you have someone, don't you? Someone who cares about you, who would help you find your way in the vast world you've been kept away from, someone who doesn't want to sit idly by and let you suffer any longer. All you've done since meeting Hyunjin is hope- and the more you look at him and see how vividly he cares, you think that maybe your hope isn’t misplaced. That maybe the life you’ve always wished for is actually obtainable if only you just try.

"If I leave.. where would I go?" you can't help but ask now that you are entertaining the thought of fleeing from the source of your suffering. Realistically, you know there is no way you can do this without Hyunjin's help, and you're sure he knows this too, but you don't want to ask too much of him. You're thankful to have him to rely on, but you don't want to impose- so it's imperative to you that he offers first, so that you don't feel as if you're burdening him.

"Stay with me," he offers without any hint of hesitation, "even if we never wed, even if you never desire me the way I desire you, stay with me." Hyunjin takes your hands in his, squeezes them in his as he continues, "I promise, you’ll never have to suffer again as long as you are in the castle. Please, leave this place with me.”

Your heart skips and stutters, emotion crawls back up your spine and pricks your skin, hitching your breath. And shit, Hyunjin realizes what he just said- he got ahead of himself, and brought up that he lives in the castle. He wanted to admit the truth of his identity carefully, but now.. well, he supposes if you agreed to leave with him, it would've come out tonight regardless.

Still, he stutters as he tries to explain himself- how it was never intended to be a lie he kept from you. How he doesn't often have the chance to meet people who don't already know his status so when you didn't recognize him, it made him happy. How he enjoyed that you could talk to him without pretense, how refreshing it was to him and how it was exactly what he needed, what he'd been looking for.

You smile, even giggle a bit once he gets really deep into his spiraling ramble of explanations. He stops then, nervously giggling back when you squeeze his hands and tell him to slow down, that you understand him completely. "I knew," you tell him after a moment, "well, not the whole time- I didn't find out until later. But I didn't bring up that I knew because it didn't change anything for me. I never cared that you're the prince. To me, you're just Hyunjin."

God, the relief that spreads through his body at your words- a massive weight has lifted from his shoulders. And the confusion you felt about why someone like him could ever fancy you so much- you feel like you understand more now why he likes you, and it helps ease the burden of your self-doubt. You sit up from the bed, looking down at Hyunjin with a timid, yet eager smile.

"Let's go," you tell him, and he quickly sits up with you, a bright smile of his own plastered on his face. "Right now? You're sure?" he asks, trying (and failing) to hide the excitement in his voice. You nod, and he positively beams, ready to help you with everything you need. You don't have many bags, much less ones suited for travel- so you settle for choosing the largest of them all.

Hyunjin helps you back the things you can't bear to part with; old gifts from your father, sentimental pieces you can't bear to part with, the blanket your mother knitted for you when you were still growing inside- you stuff your bag to the brim with your most precious belongings. It's heavy by the time you're done, and Hyunjin takes it and slings it around his shoulders, promising to treat it with care until it's delivered safely to the carriage. "Are you ready?" he asks after you both approach the window, and you pause, turning around to take one last look at your bedroom.

Once you leave, you'll never be back, and with that comes strange, new and complex feelings. But you think it's more than past time you left this place behind, and made a new place your home- a place where you are free to be happy and to exist without guilt. "I'm ready," you affirm as you turn back to the window, and Hyunjin smiles and nods, giving your hand one last reassuring squeeze before he lets it go to climb out of your window.

Hyunjin steadies his weight on the trellis, and you lean out of your window to check how far down the ground is- and shit, you might be afraid of heights if the way your stomach drops is any indicator. "I'll wait for you at the bottom," he tells you after noticing the apprehensive look in your eyes, and you nod with an anxious swallow. Hyunjin has done this a million times at this point- you can do it too! No problem!

Of course, Hyunjin makes the climb look effortless, but you suspect you won't have nearly as easy of a time climbing down. Once he's finished his climb, he takes a few steps back to see you clearly when he looks up, smiling at you encouragingly. You take a breath to steel your nerves before you take a cautious step out of your window, carefully finding your footing on the trellis before adding your weight- the same way you saw him do it.

You descend much, much slower than Hyunjin did, impossibly terrified of losing your footing and falling to the dirt below. When you finally reach the bottom, you let out a massive sigh of relief, and Hyunjin pulls you into a hug, beaming as he squeezes you- he's proud of you, you think.

His joy adds to your own, so much so that you can't help but show it. Leaning closer, standing on the tips of your toes, you kiss his cheek- a way to tell him thank you, to show him how much you like him, and to convey how happy you are with him. He blushes ever so slightly as his smile grows, a giddy feeling once again building in his stomach.

"When all this is behind us, and you're safe at the castle with me.. Can I kiss you?" he finds the courage to ask, your face flushing as you smile and nod. "I'll look forward to it," you tell him, and you raise your pinky to him, intending for it to be a promise. With a soft chuckle, he interlocks his pinky with yours, happily solidifying the promise.

"This way," he tells you shortly after, separating your pinkies to take your hand in his, and lead you to where the carriage awaits him down the dirt road, and away from the manor. You take a final glance back at it as you walk with him, whisper goodbyes to all the things you'll miss, to your father most of all.

As the carriage comes into sight, it really sets in how real all of this is- how with this night, your life will become completely different. You wonder how everyone will react when your maids enter your room in the morning and find that you aren't there- part of you is sad you can't bid them goodbye personally, but you hope they'll be happy for you and wish you well.

You hear the coachman call to Hyunjin's attendant as you step closer, informing him with surprise in his voice that he is back earlier than expected- and with you. His attendant, who you know as Chris, and have heard many stories about, steps out of the carriage with an almost bewildered expression. He certainly wasn't expecting this to happen tonight.

Hand in hand, Hyunjin continues to lead you up to the now open door of the carriage, with Chris standing next to it. "Are you..?" he asks tentatively as he looks between you both. Together, romantically, you infer him to mean. "We'll discuss it later," Hyunjin says, turning to offer you his usual warm, reassuring smile before he looks back to his attendant, "for now, I'd like you to formally meet the future princess."

Living in the royal castle is something you never would've believed would ever happen to you, and it became your reality in the strangest of ways. To think that a beautiful man came to your window in the night, that said beautiful man wanted to marry you, and was the prince of the realm of all things.. It was confounding how you ended up here.

There's part of you, that even having known the truth for months, still can't seem to wrap your head around Hyunjin being the prince. You suppose it comes down to knowing something and seeing something being entirely different- because though you knew, you never, until now, saw him in his element, so to speak.

Watching him interact with the world behind your small scope was as enlightening as it was affirming; you saw a new side of him, but it was a side that was still firmly Hyunjin. He was eloquent but opinionated in royal discussions, he was kind and grateful to his workers, he was stern when something needed done, but never cruel or overly demanding- again, all you could think was that he’s perfect.

Was Hyunjin getting ahead of himself when he introduced you to his attendant as the future princess? Maybe. But though you haven't said it aloud, you think you fell for him harder since coming to the castle; and being the princess, while a stressful endeavor that requires you to intensively study politics and speech, will be worth it to stay by his side.

The parts of Hyunjin you've come to love the most are the parts you realized are reserved only for very few to see- the part that is wittier than political discussions will allow, who is secretly a bit dramatic when things don’t go his way, a hopeless romantic who clings to the ideals of literature.

And further beyond even that, are the parts of Hyunjin that are for you, and you alone; where natural charisma melts away into bashful sincerity. Whose soft, affectionately spoken words are said with an equal mix of earnesty and boyish timidity. Whose graceful confidence is intermixed with the subtle complexities of shyness and the seeking of your approval.

All these aspects combined are what make him so special to you, and you will be forever grateful that after all the suffering you’ve endured, you are allowed to love someone as good as him, and are loved by him in return. And thanks to his help, not only do you live a life you could have only ever dreamed of, but are adjusting quite well to that new life.

Some things are the same, such as having kind maids who helped you settle and attended to your needs, but then there were things that were entirely different from the life you lived before. You have your own attendant now- a sweet boy that Christopher vouched for named Felix, who Hyunjin affirmed you would be able to trust with your life, as he does with his own attendant. And truly, Felix did quickly become someone you felt like you could rely on and trust; oftentimes, he feels more like a best friend than a royal attendant.

Though he makes sure you stay on top of your studies, and fulfill all tasks you need to have done, you can also easily spend hours giggling away about various things- like how Chris is so serious but also a secret softie underneath, about your relationship with Hyunjin, about Felix’s secret crush that he hopes to confess to after preparations for your wedding to Hyunjin are concluded.

It’ll still be some time before that day comes, as apparently the king is sparing no effort in making it an extravagant event to remember- his only son is being wed, after all; it’s worth the kingdom celebrating to the fullest extent possible. You try not to think about the life you left behind, but you often wonder if your step-mother and sisters have connected the dots between your disappearance from the manor, and the announcement of the prince’s wedding.

If not, she’s certain to realize once the day has arrived; because all reputable families of the kingdom are invited, and she never turns down a royal invitation. The offer to rescind their invitations came up, of course, but you declined- because there’s a part of you that sincerely wants this to strike your step-mother in the core of who she is, and make her reflect on herself. And if it doesn’t, well.. You’ll find some satisfaction in seeing her appalled and infuriated that you’re thriving despite her meddling in your life.

Currently, you and Hyunjin still reside in separate rooms because unwed couples sharing a bed before marriage is deemed inappropriate- not that either of you care; it doesn't stop Hyunjin from sneaking to your room at night, in much the same way he did when you lived back in your father's manor. Sneaking across balconies, quietly climbing over each and every banister until he reaches your room- it's a far cry from the "proper" way a prince is expected to behave, but when it comes to the whims of his heart, he pays no mind to such expectations.

What was once a knock at your window is now a careful tap to the glass of your balcony door, where Hyunjin stands and waits with a shy grin for you to greet him. You never lock the doors, as you're sure he knows- but regardless, he always waits for you to come and let him in yourself. It's just the same tonight- he softly knocks and waits, smiling when he sees you rise from your bed to come to the doors.

"My darling," he greets you sweetly when you open the door, taking your hand and kissing just above the knuckle as he bows to you. You've experienced the greeting what feels like a hundred times over at this point, but it never fails to raise goosebumps on your skin; especially when he looks up at you and smiles before he straightens his back and stands tall once more.

Instead of inviting him inside, you step past the door to stand on the balcony with him, the cool breeze refreshing after having dealt with the heat of the late summer sun prior. He wraps you in his arms, wasting no time in tilting his head down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. His lips on your always fill you with just as many butterflies as the first time, his hands finding their way to your waist causing you to shiver.

"I've missed you," he breathes against your lips before he kisses you again, and you hum as you return the kiss, wordlessly agreeing with the sentiment. Preparing for the wedding makes you both incredibly busy these days, from dress fittings to studying in your case, and readying to ascend the throne in Hyunjin's.

With hardly any free time to yourselves, this is how Hyunjin ensures he gets the chance to spend at least some time with you. Sneaking over to your room, no matter how exhausted the day has made him, because now that you're in the castle with him, he can't go a single night without seeing you, feeling you, at least just once.

And normally, he would follow such a kiss with conversation- ask about your day, what you did and how you're feeling, what preparations for the wedding were done today, etcetera. But for whatever reason, right now he just wants to keep kissing you, over and over again, for as long as you'll allow him.

Maybe it’s because the last few nights he hardly got to see you for more than a few moments, leading to greater longing. Maybe it’s because the wedding looming closer makes the reality that you’re together feel so much more real- you’re his, and he’s yours, and there’s so much beauty in being in love, in promising that you’ll remain together no matter the years that pass or challenges that come.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your body pressing closer into his, and it’s almost criminal how much that simple of an action makes his head spin. You’re a clingy lover- not that Hyunjin minds by any means; he loves it, in fact. He loves feeling wanted and desired by you, and the way you crave and seek out his touch; the problem, so to speak, is the way his body reacts to your close proximity. It’s.. an indecent reaction- one that he has to do his best to contain, lest he do something improper and act gracelessly.

Still, you tempt him- with doe-eyed looks, pouting lips and gentle caresses to bare skin. He desires you, wants to lay your bare and look upon every inch of your body, to feel you naked beneath his fingertips- but he can’t, not yet. And so instead, he has to make a conscious effort to not linger on such thoughts, to swallow them down until the time is right. But the more time he spends with you, the more difficult a task it becomes; and now, after having gone a handful of days not being able to see him for more than a few passing moments, you cling to him more than usual, making the need inside him impossible to ignore.

You drive him utterly crazy with a simple touch- and he wonders how much of it is a conscious decision, and how much is executed simply by instinct. Do you realize just how deeply you affect him, or do you act purely on what feels good and right to you? Maybe it’s an equal mix of both- enjoying the effect you have on him, but also thriving in the euphoria that touching him makes you feel.

You haven’t gone much further past passionate kissing and idle, yet purposeful, groping of each other’s bodies, as Hyunjin tries his best to be proper and “follow the rules”- in which having intimate relations whilst unwed is wildly improper, and against everything he’s ever been taught. But when the wind blows your robe partly open, and he sees nothing underneath but your soft white lingerie, he can’t help but recall that such rules have always been pointless to him.

Hyunjin has always followed his heart before considering consequences and what is "right." So, if you're in love, if you want each other more than words, if you know you're going to be wed soon anyways, why should he hold off from following what his heart desires? Nothing about your relationship with one another has ever been conventionally proper, nor followed pre-established rules and notions, so why hold himself to such things now?

Do you think and feel the same as him? He suspects you do, but tonight he intends to find out for sure instead of wasting any further time questioning the depth of your intent, and considering conventional rules above his feelings. His hands squeeze your waist as he turns you both around, pressing your backside against the sturdy balcony banister, the sound of surprise that leaves you muffled by his lips that have still yet to part from yours.

"I want you," he says after pulling away from your lips, though still close enough for you to feel his breath directly on your skin, "more than I fear is allowed." There’s a fear there- that the depth of his longing is entirely one-sided, that the way in which he craves you goes unrequited, that the longing you feel doesn’t go past its current boundary.

Hyunjin rests his forehead against yours, eyes staring straight into yours in a way that makes you feel equal parts vulnerable and warm. "Do you want me too?" he asks carefully, setting aside his nerves and uncertainty, his hands trailing over where the wind tousled your robe and exposed your shoulder.

"Say no, and I'll stop right now. We'll move on as if this never happened until you're ready to discuss it," he continues, hand pausing where the strap of your bra lies, uncovered thanks to your partially fallen robe, "but I need to know- if I am allowed to want you as badly as I do, and if you return these feelings." He watches your reaction attentively, unconsciously holding your breath as he waits for a hopefully favorable response.

You swallow, heart nearly beating out of your chest as you open your mouth to speak, and you're certain that Hyunjin can feel the goosebumps rising on your skin- goosebumps that exist solely because of him, and not at all from the late night chill. "I want you too," you respond, and you can see the way relief and excitement wash over him. A million promises and "thank you"'s linger on his lips, but instead of speaking them aloud, he pours them into his kiss, letting his body do the talking for him.

His hand travels away from your shoulder, down towards your waist, where your robe is held together with a loosely tied ribbon. The anticipation makes you shiver, and when you feel the knot come undone, you pull away to allow him the chance to look at you. It's utterly nerve wracking being this exposed, and you don't feel the least bit confident in yourself- but at the same time, you know how much Hyunjin reveres you, and so you want him to look.

While it's still a struggle to believe all that he sees in you, you know this is something he'll sincerely love. From the very moment your touches started to become more intimate he has craved this sight of you, and you grant him the opportunity to stare as much as he wishes to. You leave him breathless for a moment, and for quite possibly the first time, you watch in real time as something shifts inside of him.

The look in his eyes changes, first from awe as he unconsciously sucked in a breath, to utmost, almost overwhelming desire. He takes you in his arms and lifts you up, and you instinctively cling to him with a surprised squeak. His hands hold you up from under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him while tightly holding his arms. He places you on the thick banister, and you shiver when the cold iron makes contact with your skin through the thin material of the robe you’re wearing.

He kisses you with fervor, his tongue sliding past your now parted lips. Comfortable with your position and Hyunjin’s strong hold on you, you move your hands from his arms to his face, holding it as you invite his tongue further inside your mouth. One of his hands continues to support you and hold you close to his body, while the other slips your robe further down, until it falls down your arms and pools at your elbows.

Another breeze rolls by, and you shiver once more, this time fully feeling the chill. Your thin, almost sheer lingerie does nothing to hide how hard your nipples have gotten, allowing Hyunjin to see them clearly when he pulls away from your kiss and glances down. He licks his lips as he stares at them, lets his free hand move away from your legs and up to your chest, palming one of your breasts over the thin fabric of your bra.

You gasp when his fingers brush your nipple over the fabric, and Hyunjin drinks in the way your body reacts to the near overwhelming sensation his fingers grant you. Your hands fall back to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as your body squirms. "Does it feel good?" he asks, this time watching your face as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, attentively watching the way your face changes.

Biting your lip and closing your eyes as you nod, your legs instinctively try to close together but are unable to due to his place between them. The soft, near whiny gasps you let out are intoxicatingly sweet, a sound Hyunjin could easily imagine himself becoming addicted to. He kisses you again, lingering on your lips and briefly muffling your whines before he trails down your jaw and to your neck, where he places wet, open mouthed kisses.

His touch makes you hot- so much so that the cool breeze no longer affects you the way it had moments prior, your shuddering coming solely from the way he's making you feel. He slips a hand inside your bra, touching your nipple directly now, the pad of his thumb rubbing over it in rhythmic strokes. He can feel your thighs tremble and squeeze him, still desperately trying to close together, driven by the innate need to seek friction.

You don’t outright say you need more, but your body does more than enough to tell him- and so Hyunjin dips his hand further down, slowly traveling between your bodies, over your stomach until it reaches its destination between your legs. He doesn’t know what to do, really- but he’s nothing if not a romantic at heart, and he lets that guide him onward. Following the romantic fantasies that often played in his head, he brings his lips back to yours, sensually kissing you as he rubs your heat over your panties.

It's so wet- much more than he ever could've anticipated. The fabric, that was already so thin and nearly sheer to begin with, has become almost entirely see through and now sticks to you uncomfortably (though Hyunjin’s hand is proving to be a perfect distraction from the discomfort.) His own fingers become slick even without direct contact, and it excites him as much as it drives his curiosity. What do you taste like? Is it okay for him to find out, or is that too far?

He wants to know, desperately wants to know- “Can I taste you, please?” he asks in a soft, pleading tone; it’s okay if you say no, he’d never question your limits, but fuck, he really wants it. You let out a breathy, eager “yes,” to which he responds with the most breathtaking smile. You watch with bated breath as he begins to trail kisses down your torso, leaving a few lingering touches to your nipples and stomach on his way down.

Hyunjin helps you slide off the banister, hands securely on your hips and guiding you forward, closer to him. He completely kneels down in front of you, presses soft kisses to your inner thighs as he guides one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. You lean back against the banister, your hands holding it for support while his hands rub over the back of your thighs and to your ass. He holds you there, occasionally squeezing, and you can feel him smile against the meat of your thighs when it causes you to squirm in his hold.

You watch his tongue dart out from between his lips, wetting them before he finally brings his face closer to your center, giving you a curious kitten lick over your panties. That alone is enough to make you jolt, and he squeezes you a bit tighter in response, trying to help you stay still while he explores the newly accessible parts of your body.

He can’t think of a single thing he could compare your taste to, but he loves it, an involuntary noise of pleasure rising from his throat. He quickly grows dissatisfied with small, careful licks- he needs more of you on his tongue, needs to taste you directly. But rather than separating from you and wasting precious time getting your panties off you, he decides it's a better idea to simply pull them to the side.

Your balance falters for a moment when he moves his hand away from your behind to shift your panties out of his way, but he’s quick to bring it back and continue to hold you once his tongue has once again met your core. Your grip on the railing tightens, head falling back and eyes fluttering closed as you let out a low moan. You never expected to be experiencing your first time with something like this outside, on your new balcony of all places, but you can't deny that it excites you.

It's fun, exhilarating, almost freeing- something that would've forever eluded you had you not met Hyunjin, and fallen in love with him. And oh, you’ve never felt anything as good as his tongue between your folds. You divert your gaze back down, mesmerized by the sight of him between your quivering thighs, and he too is mesmerized- by your taste, by the way you drip on his tongue, by the way you gasp and cry out when his tongue finds your clit.

He alternates between swirling his tongue around it, and giving you long, flat licks, both of which drive you crazy with need for more. You try your best to not let your noises get past a certain volume, teeth digging into your bottom lip almost painfully, hands desperately clutching at the banister as your body involuntarily trembles. It doesn't take long for Hyunjin to find the pattern you like, what motions cause you to cry the loudest despite your desperate attempts to contain yourself.

Your stomach rapidly tenses and contracts, your moans quickly turning into high-pitched whines as you’re driven closer and closer to release. You’re dizzy, mind practically floating with immense pleasure, your hips unconsciously rolling into his face as you seek sweet, blinding relief. Hyunjin’s cock throbs painfully in his trousers, straining against the fabric that has now grown tight around him, but he ignores it, completely focused on you.

He looks up at you from between your legs, watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest as you take desperate, panting breaths, sweating clinging to you in an ethereal sheen. You take one of your hands off the banister, instead burying your fingers into Hyunjin’s long hair. He groans against you, unexpectedly enjoying the way you slightly tug on the loose strands.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach grows in intensity, your eyes rolling back as he flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you please. You let go of his hair when you feel your orgasm start to peak to clamp your hand over your mouth, wanting to avoid waking the entirety of the castle with your moans if you can help it.

He squeezes you once more, does his best to hold you upright as you lose yourself to the feeling. It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, the tingling that starts in your spine spreading throughout your entire body, as mind numbingly euphoric as it is overwhelming. He doesn’t separate from you until he feels your thighs relax and legs go limp, carefully removing your leg from its perch on his shoulder, holding you steady as he rises back up to his feet.

It takes you a moment to return your senses, only just barely registering Hyunjin talking to you as you blink away the fog of pleasure muddling your brain. He’s asking things like if you’re okay and if it felt good, grinning when you nod and answer him with meek affirmations. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him, and it somehow adds to just how amazing you feel.

It’s in that moment, where he’s stroking your cheek while kissing you, tongue exploring your mouth and sharing the taste of your release with you, that you decide you want to return the favor. Mirroring what he’s done to you, you let your hands wander his body until they meet the waistband of his trousers, where you slowly undo the buttons. His breath hitches when you sink to your knees, anticipation rising in tandem with his nerves.

Will you like what you see? It’s not something he’s ever worried about before, but now he finds himself awaiting your reaction anxiously. Wanting to spare him the late night chill, you don’t pull his trousers and underwear all the way down, instead just pulling down enough for his cock to spring free of its confines. And, wow- it’s much longer than you expected, as well as mouth-wateringly pretty, the vein running along the length utterly entrancing to you.

Pre-cum leaks steadily from the tip, and you curiously stick out your tongue to taste it as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He hisses and softly gasps, twitching and throbbing in your hand that is so much softer than his own. You quickly move on from small, careful and curious licks to swirling your tongue around the tip, sometimes stopping the movement of your tongue to press wet kisses to it.

His pre-cum smears over the tip and all over your lips thanks to your kisses, and it’s easily the most erotic thing he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing. And God, when you look up at him through your lashes as you kiss him, your pretty lips wet and glistening because of his release- he has to make conscious effort to not let out a visceral groan.

After a few more soft, wet kiss, you open your mouth and flatten your tongue, leaning forward on your knees, using your hand to guide his cock into your eager mouth. His body shudders as he groans, the more you take of him into your mouth, the more he struggles to restrain himself. Hyunjin leans forward, grabs the banister for support while he watches you try to work him in past your limits- taking him in until you gag, retreating just long enough to recover before resuming, trying to take him further than last time with each attempt.

Tears prick the corners of your mouth, threatening to fall with each additional inch taken down your throat, but you refuse to concede. He brought you such unimaginable bliss- and you’ll do anything to make him feel the same. Just as Hyunjin had done, you proceed purely on instinct, staring up at him as you finally succeed in taking his entire length into your mouth. And fuck, the sight of you- how is he supposed to retain composure after seeing you like this?

Grip on the railing tightening, his eyes roll back when you start bobbing your head along his length, the sound of his cock sliding back and forth in your mouth creating impossibly salacious wet sounds. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, down to your chest and thighs, but you continue on, paying no mind to the mess you're making on yourself.

For the first time, you hear Hyunjin speak with an utter loss of composure- no smooth charisma, no eloquently crafted line of dialogue; just pure, pleasured rambling. "Darling, I can't- feels so good, I-" he cuts himself off with a curse, biting his lip as he feels you caress his throbbing vein with your tongue. He’s never felt so good before, and he’s so close- but what is he supposed to do? Release in your mouth? Is that even okay?

He intends to ask, opening his eyes to look at you as he does, but oh- the sight of you instantly causes the words to die in his throat, the sight of you paired with pleasure he feels is just too much for him. He cums with a moan, loud and pretty, his cum gagging you as it shoots straight down your throat. You pull away seconds later, releasing him from your mouth with a pop, swallowing the cum that lingers on the back of your tongue as you wipe your lips clean with the back of your hand. You look up at him next, taking in the sight of your normally elegant lover looking so debauched. He’s breathless and utterly disheveled, but still so impossibly perfect.

Hyunjin helps you to your feet after he’s collected himself, pulling you into an emotionally charged, sensual kiss; lips parted, tongue seeking yours. He lifts you up once more, deciding that both of you have spent more than enough time on the balcony, continuing to kiss you even as he carries you inside your bedroom. It makes the walk more precarious, but neither of you care, absorbed in one another as you are. And maybe you should feel some amount of shame for having pleasured one another in such an open space, but it’s the furthest thing from your minds.

All that matters is Hyunjin; how he makes you feel, and how you make him feel. Lying you on your bed as gently as he can manage, he finds his place between your legs as you fall to your back. His hands find the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off your body. Your robe is the next thing to be removed in your flurry of impassioned kisses, followed by your bra, and all of Hyunjin’s clothes.

“Love you so much, my darling,” he breathes against your skin between his kisses to your lips, hands roaming your body, “want to be inside you.” You pull away enough to see him clearly, your eyes finding his even in the dark of your room. “I want it to,” you admit softly, heat rising to your face, “I love you, Hyunjin.” He smiles, brief and timid, before he kisses you again, slipping one of his hands between your thighs to feel your heat with his fingers.

He rubs his fingers between your folds, and you let out a shuddering breath, body trembling with anticipation. You’re still so wet, and Hyunjin can’t help but involuntarily groan when he imagines what you’ll feel like wrapped around his cock. He takes his cock in his hand, smears your essence along it to get it wet, glancing up at you after he aligns himself with your hole. You look apprehensive, and he’s immediately worried you’ve changed your mind and want him to stop-

But when he offers, you quickly shake your head. You’re nervous, that much is true, but you want this- everything you experience with Hyunjin is new and beautiful, and you’re certain this will be too. And every time you’ve been hesitant, or scared, or anxious, he was there for you; he held you and listened to you and helped you find not only the courage to be where you are now, but your self-worth too. You love him, you trust him- and what better way to show him the depth of your love and trust, than to offer yourself to him, body and soul.

With one last affectionate kiss, a softly spoken promise to always take care of you, he begins to slowly push inside you. You both gasp, sensitive from your prior orgasms, the effect profound even before he’s all the way inside. There’s a slight discomfort at first that quickly gives way to tingly pleasure across your body, the sensation effectively stealing the breath from your lungs. Hyunjin clenches his jaw, breath growing more labored, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you even when his body is completely still.

He leans back down to you once your hips are flush together, wraps his arms around you, pressing your body against his. You wrap your arms around his neck, while he holds you under your shoulders, kissing you as he experimentally rolls his hips into yours. Each roll of his hips is slow and purposeful, as is each kiss you share. You understand now, why sex is often referred to as making love- because there can truly be no other way to describe the moment you share, and the feelings that come with it.

When he pulls away and looks down at you, his heart races even faster; you’re so pretty, beautiful- with your hair fanned out around you, the moon shining through your balcony doors highlighting the sheen of sweat in the most ethereal way. All he can think about is how much he loves you, how lucky he is to have you, how good you are to him. You’re perfect, utterly perfect in every conceivable way- and he knows you’d say just the same about him, would still find new ways to compliment him once you ran out of words.

Despite the languid pace, it doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to feel close again- he’s already cum once, and the sensitivity he feels from it in combination with the way your walls squeeze him is impossibly overwhelming. He squeezes you closer, his chest pressed against yours, his face burying its way into your neck. You can tell how close he is, from the way he twitches and throbs inside you, to the way he gasps and moans close to your ear.

Wanting to cum again with him, you move your dominant hand between your bodies, finding your clit with your fingers. When Hyunjin feels what you’re doing, he separates from you enough to watch, looking between your bodies to watch the way your fingers move. Your walls start to squeeze him tighter as you work yourself close to your release, and he can’t help but groan, hips picking up speed as he chases his orgasm with you.

Your noises grow louder once he picks up his pace, and you’re sure the guards outside your room have realized what’s happening- but neither of you can bring yourselves to care about containing yourselves anymore. You cum in tandem with one another- Hyunjin first, a strained groan of your name passing his lips as his cum shoots deep inside you, the feeling of it sending you over the edge with him.

Both of you are breathless and hot, with hearts thumping the hardest they ever have, but he kisses you regardless, paying no mind to his desperate need to catch his breath. He brings one of his hands to your face, caresses it as he kisses you, and still after he pulls away. He looks at you with such pure affection, soft admissions of love and tender care softly spoken for only you to hear.

Even after he carefully pulls out, he sticks close to your side, holding you close in his arms, refusing to leave you to go back to his own room. This is his place now- with you, listening to your soft breaths and stroking your head as sleep begins to take you. His own eyes quickly grow heavy, your warmth inviting, and he knows he’ll soon fall asleep with you. He whispers his affections, his love for you and how happy he is, knowing that this night is just one of many perfect nights you’ll continue to share in the future.

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

#ksmutsociety #skzstarnet #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #hyunjin smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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thirty–nine — gojo satoru.

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation

WARNING/S: romance, domesticity, fluff, family, break up, hurt/no comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, hurt/comfort, character death, depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of graphic content,depiction of emotional breakdown, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: in honor of the olympics ending tomorrow, here is the figure skating pair satoru x reader which just took a while to write. i was debating adding so much stuff here, but this is so long already and i didn't want to let you suffer my yapping. please enjoy this as much as pasilyo!!! i'll see you for yuuji's story AND the winning story idea from the polls~ i love you all <3

masterlist

series masterlist

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IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT, SATORU WAS YOUR UNIVERSE. He always has been. Ever since you were a little girl, your life had revolved around Gojo Satoru. You remember it vividly, or at least you think you do. Your earliest memories were a mix of excitement and nerves, curiosity and clumsy attempts at coordination.

You recall stepping onto the ice rink for the first time. Your tiny skates felt like they had minds of their own. You looked up at your mom with wide, apprehensive eyes, wondering if you’d make a fool of yourself or somehow transform into a skating prodigy overnight.

“Just give it a try. You’ll be great!” Your mom waves, encouraging tune echoing from her lips. “Go darling!”

Your gaze swept around the rink, trying to take in every detail. There were adults gliding gracefully, children spinning in wild, chaotic circles, and the occasional crash that sounded like a minor icequake. And then, amidst this dizzying array of figures, you saw him—Gojo Satoru, as he was back then: a whirlwind of energy with an unruly mop of hair that defied gravity.

At that moment, your child-sized heart skipped a beat. You were captivated by his effortless moves, his goofy grin, and the way he seemed to have a magnetic pull on every eye in the rink. To you, he was like a live-action superhero—if superheroes had a penchant for playful teasing and spontaneous snowball fights.

“Who’s that? He’s amazing!” You asked your mom, eyes echoing in awe as you watched him skirt through like an angel visiting earth.

“That’s Gojo Satoru. He’s quite the skater. And one day, you’ll be just as good.” Your mom grins knowingly. “I hear he’s been in some competitions already, you know?”

“I wanna be like him, mama! I wanna be as good as him!” You say patting her arm, as she smiled. “No, I wanna be even better!”

“You will be, I’m sure.” She says, as she helped you into the ice rink. “You can do it, I believe in you.”

You took to heart your mother’s words. You could remember clutching the side of the rink for dear life as you tried to mimic Gojo’s moves. It was a mix of determination and hilarity. But you wanted to do better. You wanted to be as good as him, you wanted to be even better.

“Careful, you’re making my moves look bad with all these awesome spins!” Gojo Satoru skates towards you, grin on his face. You almost fell, but you recovered pretty fast. You looked at him in awe. “Of course, you’ll be in awe of me, won’t you?”

“I’m just trying to keep up! Your spins are impossible!” You reply, eyes full of stars as you stare at him.

“Impossible? Nah, just a bit of practice and a lot of attitude!”

Years later, you’d look back on those early days and laugh at how starstruck you were. It wasn’t just the skating that captivated you; it was the way Gojo made everything feel like an adventure, every practice a chance for mischief and fun. And through all the spills and thrills, he became a central figure in your life—a constant, whether you were gliding gracefully or tumbling spectacularly.

“Remember when I tried to copy your triple axel and ended up face-planting into the ice?” you said, a snicker escaping your lips as you glanced at Satoru. The memory of your clumsy attempt at one of the most challenging moves still brought a touch of embarrassment, but now it was wrapped in fondness.

Satoru’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he recalled the scene. “How could I forget?” he said, his grin widening. “You made it look like a new ice trick!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think ‘new ice trick’ is just a polite way of saying I looked like a flailing fish.”

Satoru’s laughter was warm and infectious. “No way! You brought a whole new level of creativity to the rink. I’d never seen anyone make a face-plant look like part of the performance before. It was almost... avant-garde!”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully skeptical. “Avant-garde? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru replied with mock seriousness. “You were way ahead of your time. You just needed a bigger audience to appreciate the art of the spectacular face-plant!”

You chuckled, shaking your head at his playful exaggeration. “I suppose if we had marketed it as a ‘revolutionary new ice dance move,’ we might have started a trend.”

“See?” Satoru said, nudging you with his elbow. “Told you. The effort made you even better. Every great skater has a few unforgettable falls in their repertoire. Yours just happened to be the most memorable.”

You leaned into him, enjoying the easy tenderness between you. “Well, thanks for sticking around to see it. I might not have had the best technique, but at least I had you to laugh with.”

“And to catch you when you fell.” Satoru added with a wink. “Though, I have to admit, watching you try that move was like watching a live-action comedy show. I’m still waiting for the sequel!”

You nudged him back playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get your fill of entertainment with me around. Just give me a few more practice sessions to perfect my ‘avant-garde’ style.”

Satoru’s laughter filled the rink as he pulled you into a warm hug. “Deal. And who knows? Maybe your next masterpiece will be the talk of the skating world.”

You might have had a few less-than-graceful moments throughout the years, but you wouldn’t trade those for anything. Because in every one of those moments, amidst the laughter and the tears, there was Gojo Satoru, making sure that no matter how many times you fell, he’d always be there to catch you—or at least to laugh with you when you got back up.

From the age of ten, when you first got paired up as figure skating partners, everything changed. It was one of those pivotal moments in life that seemed to alter the course of your entire world. The rink in your small town in Tokyo was modest, its walls lined with the echoes of countless skaters who had come before you. Yet, on that day, it felt like the grandest stage imaginable.

The more you saw him, the more you were in awe of him. He was beautiful in a way that transcended mere physical appearance—his presence was magnetic. He had a head of unruly, gravity-defying hair that seemed to perfectly match the uncontainable energy radiating from him. His eyes, bright and full of mischief, held a spark that made you feel as though you were witnessing something truly extraordinary.

You liked to watch his practice session. You watched every movement with awestruck eyes. He effortlessly gliding across the ice with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of physics. To your young eyes, it was like watching a dancer in a dream—a perfect blend of elegance and daring. And even though he was just a boy, there was something undeniably captivating about the way he moved.

You could see the other kids watching him too, their faces reflecting a mix of admiration and envy. He had that rare quality of being able to draw attention without even trying, a natural charisma that made him the center of every conversation. You, on the other hand, felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. You were about to join him on this stage, and while the idea was thrilling, it was also intimidating.

Sure, he could be a brat—too blunt and annoyingly confident at times. His comments were often laced with a teasing edge, and his self-assuredness sometimes bordered on arrogance. But beneath that surface was an undeniable charm, a genuine enthusiasm for skating that was contagious. Despite his occasional brashness, there was something incredibly endearing about the way he approached life with such unabashed exuberance.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself drawn to him, despite the occasional clash of personalities. There was an undeniable pull, a feeling that your paths were meant to intertwine. The more you watched him, the more you realized that beneath his bravado, there was a heart full of passion and dreams—a heart that mirrored your own in many ways.

As you began your partnership, the initial awkwardness and nerves slowly gave way to a growing bond. The rink became a space where you could both express yourselves, where you learned to complement each other’s movements and anticipate each other’s needs. The early days were filled with stumbling attempts at coordination, but through every misstep and every laugh, a connection began to form..

It wasn’t long before you realized that you were in love with him. It was as if the universe had aligned perfectly, making it so easy to fall for him. After all, who else could understand you the way Satoru did? You two had grown up together, skating side by side, pushing each other to be better, stronger, faster. You knew every nuance of his personality, every quirk, and he knew yours just as intimately. You were made for each other.

So when you were both twenty, standing on that podium with gold medals around your necks after the Olympics, the decision to marry him felt as natural as breathing. You didn’t need grand gestures or long speeches. Just a simple ceremony, your hands clasped tightly together, your hearts beating in sync as you exchanged vows. The world saw two champions in love, but for you, it was simply a continuation of a life already lived side by side.

Now, every glide across the ice, every perfectly executed lift, felt like a dance of love—the bond you had built over the years. You knew that no matter what challenges came your way, as long as you had Satoru by your side, you would always come out on top, both in life and on the ice.

But after competing together your whole lives, earning fame and glory in the Olympics year after year, the house of cards you thought could withstand any storm, any chaos, any catastrophe, suddenly crumbled. You were thirty when it happened, at the peak of your career. It wasn’t during a pairs event, but your individual skating routine—an arena where you stood alone, without Satoru by your side.

The routine had started flawlessly, every spin and jump executed with the precision and grace that had become your signature. But then, in the blink of an eye, something went wrong. A misstep, a momentary lapse, and you felt a sharp, searing pain shoot through your leg as you landed awkwardly.

You knew instantly that something was terribly wrong, but you pushed through it. The roaring crowd, the blinding lights, and the weight of your own expectations urged you on. So you kept going, forcing your body to move despite the pain, finishing your routine with the same poise you had always shown.

When the music stopped, you stood there, chest heaving, eyes scanning the audience as they erupted in applause. You had done it—you had won a medal. But the victory was hollow, the weight of the medal around your neck a constant reminder of what it had cost you.

Satoru was there in an instant, his eyes wide with worry as he rushed to your side. But even as he held you, whispered reassurances in your ear, you could feel the cracks forming. The injury wasn’t just physical; it was the beginning of something deeper, something neither of you had prepared for.

The house of cards you had built together, the one you thought could weather any storm, was suddenly teetering on the edge of collapse. And as you looked into Satoru’s eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment it would all come crashing down.

The injury was complicated, a tangled mess of torn ligaments and fractured bones that proved difficult to operate on. The doctors weren’t optimistic, and that crushed you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. The physical pain was one thing, but the heartbreak that followed was unbearable. You found yourself spiraling into a void of despair, the life you had known slipping away with each passing day.

You began to isolate yourself, retreating into the shadows of your own mind. The rink, once your sanctuary, became a place of torment, a constant reminder of what you had lost. Satoru tried to be there for you, but even his presence felt like a weight too heavy to bear. The once unbreakable bond between you began to fray, each day pulling you further apart.

When you finally announced your retirement, it felt like the end of an era. But it wasn’t just skating you were leaving behind; you wanted to erase yourself from Satoru’s narrative too. You couldn’t bear the thought of holding him back, of being the reason his career might falter. Your failures had already cost you everything—there was no way you would let them drag him down too.

Satoru, with his usual stubbornness, refused to let go. He never wanted a divorce, didn’t even want to talk about separation. But you needed space, a distance that would allow you to breathe without feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of your shared history. Satoru understood this—he understood it all too well. So he didn’t fight you, didn’t push back. He simply waited, hoping that time and space would heal the wounds that had driven a wedge between you.

And so, the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Satoru waited, holding onto the hope that one day you would find your way back to him, that the love you shared would be strong enough to bridge the distance that had grown between you. He waited, because he knew that no matter how far you tried to run, you were still a part of him, just as he was a part of you.

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HE WISHED HE COULD TAKE BACK THAT DAY. But he knew that he couldn’t change the reality of what had happened. No matter how many times he hoped, prayed, or wished for a different outcome, the truth remained that life had robbed you of your dreams. In the world of figure skating, the years were fleeting, and only a select few were fortunate enough to extend their careers into their thirties.

Satoru was one of those few, still gracing the ice with his presence at thirty-eight, but you had always been right there beside him. You were making plans yourself, contemplating when to step away, but it was supposed to be on your own terms, with a final performance that would leave the world breathless.

That’s what broke you the most, he thinks—the fact that fate had stolen that choice from you. You were supposed to have one last dance, one last chance to glide across the ice and feel the love of the crowd, to pour your heart into the sport that had shaped your life.

But instead, your departure was abrupt, forced by circumstances beyond your control. The ice, which had been your sanctuary, your stage, and your life, was taken from you without warning. And now, as you both reached thirty-eight, the painful reality was that you and the ice would part forever in a way neither of you had ever wanted.

For Satoru, it was excruciating to find his footing without you. Every day at the rink felt like a different world, one that was both familiar and alien. He tried to push forward, to focus on his training and his new role as a mentor, but it was impossible to ignore the gaping hole left by your absence.

When he looked around during practice sessions, at Coach Yaga’s stern face, the focused expressions of the staff, and the young skaters striving to make their mark, he felt the sting of loss all over again. The rink was the same, yet everything had changed.

There were no shared glances with you, no reassuring smiles or knowing nods as you both prepared to take the ice together. The absence of your voice, your laughter, your presence—it was a constant ache that refused to dull. Every corner of the rink held memories of you, of the life you had built together on the ice. Now, without you, it felt like skating in a shadow, always missing the light that had once guided him.

Satoru knew that this was his reality now, and no amount of wishing could bring back what had been lost. But even as he trained, coached, and tried to find meaning in this new chapter of his life, the thought of you lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

It hurt more than he could ever express, but he kept going, because that’s what you would have wanted him to do. Even if he didn’t hear it, he knows this is what you would have wanted. And so, with each step he took, he carried the weight of your absence.

And he still got it. Gojo Satoru still managed to captivate the hearts of many in the skating world, even as the years wore on. The boy who once dazzled audiences with his youthful brilliance was now a seasoned veteran, revered and respected.

He still skated, still graced the ice with the effortless grace that had made him a legend, but he knew his time as a competitor was drawing to a close. He had begun to transition into coaching, guiding the next generation of talent. Rising star Megumi Fushiguro had caught his eye, a skater with raw potential and a fire that reminded Satoru of his younger self.

But even with the new responsibilities, the thrill of mentoring, it was hard. Every single day, the weight of your absence pressed down on him. You had been gone for a while now, distancing yourself in a way that left him feeling helpless and lost. The silence between you was deafening, a void he couldn’t seem to fill no matter how hard he tried.

He worried about you constantly, wondering how you were coping, whether you were healing—both physically and emotionally. The thought of you alone, battling your demons without him, tore at his heart. So, he made a note in his head to message you, to reach out once more. It wasn’t much, just a few words, a simple check-in, but it was all he could do. He never got a reply, but he knew you saw the messages. Somehow, he convinced himself that it was enough, that knowing you were still there, somewhere, was better than nothing at all.

At least he knew you were well. That was what mattered most, even if it meant enduring the silence that stretched on between you. And so, he continued to wait, just as he had before, holding onto the hope that one day, you might find your way back to him. Maybe someday you’ll find your way back into his arms.

But he never expected it to be right here, right now. Gojo Satoru never expected that he would find you here today. It was just another day at the rink, one of many he’d spent alone, trying to fill the emptiness that lingered after you left. As he packed up his gear, mentally preparing to head home, something caught his eye near the exit. He blinked, unsure if he was seeing things, but there you were—standing by the door, just like you used to, waiting for him with that familiar smile on your face.

For a moment, he froze, unsure if this was a dream or some trick of his mind. It had been months since you last talked, months since he had seen that smile, and the shock of seeing you here, in the place where it all began, left him momentarily speechless. But the way you looked at him, the way you waved as if no time had passed at all—it stirred something deep within him, something he had almost forgotten.

Slowly, he walked over to you, his heart pounding in his chest. The closer he got, the more real you became, and when he finally reached you, he found himself searching your face for answers. Were you really here? Was this really happening?

“Hey,” you greeted him softly, your voice carrying the warmth and familiarity he had missed so much.

“Hey.” he replied, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you were standing right in front of him. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What brings you to town?”

You smiled even wider, the kind of smile that always made him feel like everything was going to be okay. “I wanted to see you.” you said simply. “It’s been too long.”

He felt a lump form in his throat, a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “How long are you staying?”

“For a while.” you answered, your eyes meeting him with a sincerity that made his heart ache.

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Satoru didn’t know what this meant, or what it would lead to, but at that moment, none of it mattered. You were here, in front of him, smiling that same smile that had captured his heart so many years ago. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new.

As the days passed, Satoru and you slowly began to rebuild something that resembled the life you once shared, the marriage that had been so deeply intertwined with your skating careers.

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was something beautiful in its own right, something tender and fragile, blossoming with each shared moment. Satoru cherished it, adored it more than words could express. He had missed you more than he had ever let on, and now that you were back in his life, he found himself clinging to every second, treasuring every smile, every touch.

You fell into a rhythm together, one that was both familiar and new. It felt like rediscovering each other all over again, like finding pieces of a puzzle that had been scattered but never lost. Satoru reveled in the simple things—the quiet conversations, the laughter, the warmth of your presence beside him. He had spent so much time wondering if he would ever feel whole again, and now, with you here, it was as if the missing pieces were finally falling into place.

Through it all, one thought became clear to him: after living multiple lifetimes with you, each time he was reborn, he always wanted you. In every lifetime, in every possible world, it was you he would choose, again and again. No matter the circumstances, no matter the struggles or the suffering, he wanted nothing more in life than to be together with you.

If he had to suffer, if he had to endure pain or hardship, he would gladly accept it—just to have you by his side. Because with you, every trial was worth it, every challenge bearable. You were his beginning and his end, the one constant in a world that was always changing.

And as he looked at you now, smiling at him as you always did, he knew that this was all he needed, all he would ever need. Satoru had found his way back to you, and he would hold onto you with everything he had, because there was nothing more precious to him than the life you were building together once more.

That night, you and Satoru were out to dinner together. He had gone all out, renting the entire balcony of your favorite restaurant in the city. The view was breathtaking, the city lights twinkling beneath a clear night sky. You sat together, enjoying a delicious meal, reminiscing and laughing like you used to. It felt almost like old times, a moment of peace and happiness that you both had desperately needed.

As the evening went on, you found yourself watching him, taking in the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way his smile lit up the world around him. You loved him so much, and that love had only grown stronger with time. But as you looked at him, you knew it was time to tell him what you had been holding back.

"Satoru." you said softly, your voice tinged with both hesitation and resolve. "I have something to say."

He looked at you, a playful smile still on his lips as he asked, "What is it?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words still came out shakily. "The doctor, I visited him.”

He raised a brow. “Is it about your knee? What did he say? Do you need another operation? If so, I’ll make time around it on my schedule—”

“Satoru.” You say, cutting him off. You smiled at him, shaking your head.

“My love, what is it?”

You looked downward, as though you were deep into thought for a moment. You raised your head once again and took a deep breath. He noticed the air shift, as he stared into your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him with that haunting smile. He thinks he’ll never forget it. It was seared into him, how you could smile in this moment when those truths were about to come from your lips. The truth he hated most.

“I have pancreatic cancer, my doctor said." you began, watching as his expression shifted from curiosity to shock. "Final stage. The survival rate… it’s 0.08 percent."

The smile vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a look of utter devastation. His eyes welled up with tears, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process the enormity of what you had just said. Then, without warning, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the cruel reality you had just revealed.

“What?”

“It…” You take a moment, trying not to break in front of him. “It was a shock for me too. But...…”

“When?” He huffs, as though he was about to run out of air. “When did you find out?”

You couldn’t speak for a moment, almost ashamed. “Two days ago.”

"Why?" he choked out, his voice breaking as the tears began to fall. "Why does it have to be you?"

Hearing his pain, seeing the tears streaming down his face, was enough to break your heart all over again. You felt your own tears begin to well up, and soon they were spilling over, streaming down your cheeks as you clung to him. But you tried to stay strong, tried to find some semblance of composure. You even managed a small, shaky laugh through the tears, though it sounded more like a sob.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with a gentle resolve, "All I want to do is have fun with you. With all the time left, hm? I want to skate like we used to, laugh like we did tonight… I want to spend whatever time I have left making the best memories with you."

He held you even tighter, his tears soaking into your shoulder as he cried quietly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "I can’t lose you, not again." he whispered, his voice raw with grief. "I don’t know how to live without you."

"You won’t lose me, you know what, hm?" you said, your voice cracking as you tried to comfort him, even as your own tears continued to fall. "I’ll always be with you, no matter what happens. But for now, let’s make the most of the time we have, okay? Let’s skate together, laugh together… let’s live."

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t find the words to respond. He just held you, both of you crying together, sharing the pain and the love that bound you so deeply. He doesn't say anything mroe and neither do you. It was better that way.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IT WAS A NO BRAINER FOR HIM. The day after your dinner, Gojo Satoru made an announcement that sent shockwaves through the figure skating world. Standing before a room full of reporters and cameras, he took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to say the words he never thought he’d utter so soon.

“Effective immediately, I’m retiring from competitive figure skating.” he said, his voice calm but firm. The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, but Satoru kept his gaze steady, focused on the truth he had to share. “I won’t be taking on any new commitments as a coach either, not for the time being.”

He could see the confusion, the surprise in the faces around him, but he didn’t waver. “My partner, my… my spouse,” he continued, his voice faltering slightly as he forced himself to push through, “has been diagnosed with a serious illness. My priority is to be with them, to support them through this time.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone. Satoru’s heart pounded in his chest, but he knew this was the right decision. Nothing mattered more to him than being by your side, especially now. The ice could wait. The world could wait. You needed him, and that was all that mattered.

It was hard—harder than he had imagined. The pain you were in was unbearable to watch, a constant reminder of the battle you were fighting. He hated seeing you suffer, hated the way the illness stole pieces of you day by day. You tried to stay strong, tried to keep smiling for him, but he could see the pain etched in every line of your face, hear it in the way your breath hitched when you thought he wasn’t listening.

Sometimes, when you were resting, Satoru would retreat to a quiet corner of the house, somewhere you wouldn’t find him, and he would cry. He would cry for you, for the life you were supposed to have together, for the unfairness of it all. He cried because he felt helpless, unable to take away your pain, unable to do anything but watch as the illness took its toll.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he knew you noticed. You would look at him with those eyes, filled with concern for him even as you battled your own pain. He wished you wouldn’t—wished you wouldn’t see the cracks in his armor, wouldn’t see the way this was breaking him. He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to be your rock, but the truth was, he was terrified.

He wished you didn’t have to see his tears, didn’t have to carry the burden of his sorrow on top of everything else you were going through. But no matter how much he tried to hide it, you always noticed, and that only made him ache more. He didn’t want to add to your pain, didn’t want you to worry about him when you had so much to face already.

But through it all, Satoru stayed by your side, refusing to leave you for even a moment. He held your hand through the pain, stayed up with you through the long nights, and whispered words of comfort even when he was breaking inside. Because in the end, none of it mattered. None of the tears, none of the fear—as long as he could be with you, as long as he could love you through every moment you had left.

Despite the pain that had become a constant companion, despite the weakness that sapped your strength with each passing day, you found yourself yearning for one final chance to skate. The ice rink had always been your sanctuary, a place where you felt most alive, most connected to Satoru. And now, as the end approached, you wanted nothing more than to experience that joy one last time.

You approached Satoru with trembling resolve. He was sitting beside you, holding your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the deep sadness and concern that had become all too familiar. You took a deep breath, mustering the energy to make your request.

"Satoru, please." you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to go to the rink. I want to skate with you… just one last time."

Satoru’s face immediately fell, a mixture of shock and concern washing over him. "No," he said firmly, his voice strained with the effort to stay calm. "You're too weak. You can't do this. It’s too dangerous."

But you shook your head, the tears welling up in your eyes. "Please, Satoru." you pleaded, your voice breaking as the emotion overwhelmed you. "I know I'm sick. I know it’s risky. But I just want to feel the ice again, to be with you on that rink one last time. It’s all I’m asking."

His resolve began to falter, his heart aching at the sight of your tears, at the desperation in your voice. "I don’t want to see you in pain, my love." he said, his own voice trembling. "What if something happens? I can't bear to see you hurt."

You couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. You clung to him, your body shaking with the force of your tears. "Please." you begged through your sobs, "Just...please just this once. I need this. I need it for me, for us."

Satoru’s tears began to fall as well, mingling with yours. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He could feel the weight of your illness pressing down on him, the crushing reality of it all. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, but he also saw how much this meant to you.

After a few moments of holding you, he pulled back slightly, his eyes red and wet. "Okay....I...." he said, his voice choked with emotion. "We’ll go to the rink. But promise me we’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much."

You nodded through your tears, a small, grateful smile forming on your lips despite the sadness. "I promise," you whispered, feeling a glimmer of hope.

Satoru helped you get ready, carefully supporting you as you made your way to the rink. Every step was a struggle, every movement a reminder of how much you had endured. But when you finally stepped onto the ice, with Satoru by your side, you felt a fleeting sense of peace.

As you skated together, every movement was a bittersweet reminder of the life you had shared, of the joy you had found in each other. Your Satoru held you close, guiding you gently across the ice, making sure you were safe while also trying to hold back his own tears.

It was a moment of fragile beauty, a final dance on the ice that captured the essence of your love and the depth of your connection. For a little while, the pain and the sadness seemed to fade, replaced by the pure joy of being together once more, on the ice where it all began. And in that moment, despite everything, you felt a profound sense of peace, knowing that you had shared one last perfect memory with the person you loved most.

As you skated together, the ice beneath your feet felt both comforting and foreign, a reminder of the many times you had danced together in the past. Satoru guided you gently, his grip firm but tender, as you moved across the rink.

“Just a little slower, hm?” he said softly, his voice a mix of concern and love. “I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

You nodded, trying to match his pace. “I’m okay. you whispered, though your breath was ragged. “I just… I needed this. I needed to feel… like we’re still us.”

Satoru glanced at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and affection. “I wish I could do more for you.” he said, his voice trembling. “I wish we had more time.”

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face despite the smile on your lips. “We have now.” you said softly. “We have this moment. That’s all I need.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as you skated. “I love you.” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I love you so much."

“I love you too.” you replied, your voice barely audible as the tears continued to flow.

Satoru’s grip tightened around you, and he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m here, okay?” he whispered. “I’m always here, no matter what happens. I’ll never leave you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in. “Thank you for doing this, for me.” you said softly. “For making this… one last memory.”

Satoru nodded, his own tears falling freely now. “I’ll always treasure this.” he said, his voice breaking. “Even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I’m grateful for every moment we’ve shared. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, the world outside the rink fading away as you focused on the connection you shared. Eventually, you began to slow down, feeling the weight of exhaustion and pain.

“Let’s rest for a bit.” Satoru suggested gently. “We don’t have to do everything at once. We can take it slow.”

You nodded, letting him guide you to the edge of the rink where you both sat down, still holding each other. The cold of the ice beneath you felt soothing, a contrast to the warmth of Satoru’s embrace.

“Do you remember?” you said quietly, trying to shift the focus to happier memories, “Our first time, when we skated together?”

Satoru chuckled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “How could I forget? You were so determined, even though you could barely stay upright. I think you fell more than you skated.”

You laughed, a small, bittersweet sound. “And you kept teasing me about it, but you were always there to catch me.”

“Always,” he agreed, squeezing your hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll always be here to catch you.”

Satoru took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Do you remember when we first met at the rink?” he began, his voice growing softer but more steady as he spoke. “You were so nervous, and I was this cocky kid who thought he knew it all. You kept falling, but you were determined to keep going. I think that’s when I first realized how strong you were.”

You smiled faintly, imagining the scene he described. “I remember.” you whispered. “You were so annoying, but you helped me up every time I fell.”

“And you kept getting up, you would grip my hand hard too.” Satoru continued, his voice steadying as he spoke of the past. “You never gave up, no matter how many times you fell. It was inspiring. It was...It was everything."

As he spoke, your breathing became more labored, each inhale taking more effort than the last. Satoru’s voice wavered, but he continued, determined to give you this final gift of memories. You could feel it. How easily it would break into shattering tears. To see one’s heart break into a million pieces. To be the one slowly being left behind.

“I remember our first competition together, in pairs.” he said, his voice trembling with both nostalgia and emotion. “We were so nervous, but we pulled it off. I remember looking at you after our performance, seeing the pride in your eyes. That look in your eyes…. it was like the stars were before us. And it was everything to me.”

Tears streamed down your face as you listened, each word from Satoru bringing back memories of the life you had shared. “Thank you, baby.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Thank you for everything.”

Satoru kissed your forehead gently, his own tears falling freely. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” he said softly. “I always will. No matter where you go, you’ll always be with me. I’ll carry you with me, in everything I do.”

“In another life, will you choose me again?” you whimpered softly, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. He lowered his head, tears slipping down his face, and after a moment, he raised his gaze to meet yours.

“I always will,” he replied, his voice choked with emotion. He sniffed away his tears, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to anchor himself in the moment. “I’ll always choose you, no matter what. Even if you break my heart all the time, I’ll be yours.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as well, touched deeply by his words. “Then I’ll choose you too, baby. Even if I don’t remember, help me. Help me remember. So I can love you like this again.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute despite the tears streaming down his face. “I always will. I promise.”

You leaned against him, feeling a profound sense of peace despite the pain. “Thank you, Satoru. For everything. For making these last moments together so special.”

He kissed the top of your head, holding you close. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it. For giving me this final memory with you.”

And in those last precious moments, surrounded by the warmth of Satoru’s love and the memories of a life well-lived, you found a sense of tranquility. You lean your head on his shoulders, taking one deep breath and smiling.

The pain and struggle began to fade, replaced by the profound comfort of knowing that you were loved, that you had shared something beautiful, and that even in the face of the inevitable, you were not alone. The sun had begun to rise again, on your faces. And that it’s already set in stone — Gojo Satoru will find you again. He will love you again. Over and over. No matter what.

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months ago

Text

Whalien52 (m) | pjm

you’ve been working for the New World Order as an assassin for years, guarding secrets without batting an eye or asking questions. But when a striking pink haired man shows up at the headquarters stealing information, he makes you question everything. With all of humanity at stake, what will you do?

→ Pairing: Jimin (kitty gang!jimin) x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: apocalyptic, survival, dystopian + angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 10.6k → Warnings + triggers: changing povs (between reader and Jimin), action, weapons, guns and swords, blood (it’s not in extreme detail or anything, but blood is mentioned a few times), death (people are dying, but no important character dies!!!), wounds, shooting, self defense, m*rder in self defense, sickness (cancer due to radiation), mention of a cure and treatment for said cancer. Explicit smut in the form of unprotected sexy, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, degrading names, multiple orgasms, creampie, kissing. → Author’s note(1): okay, so I’ve been struggling a lot with this one too, lol. I miss writing sappy romance I think. This isn’t sappy, and I’ll hardly call it romance, well, it’s in there, but there’s honestly so much action in this one, compared to the Yoongi one. It’s also more fast paced, and shorter. I hope it’s alright! It was fun to write, even though I know nothing about writing action, I hope I did it well! And to everyone who’s scared or reluctant to read it because there’s angst and it’s kinda heavy/dark themed— IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. There, I spoiled the ending for you 😇 + This story is a gift for my friend @remmykinsff! Thank you so much for sharing your Kitty gang Jimin folder with me, and letting me use you for motivation and inspiration to get out of my writer’s block 💜 → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]*: end of the world // end of the world: a flickering hope // shower drabble // whalien52 // end of the world: epilogue *this story is technically a stand alone one-shot (and can be read just as is), but it is also a spin-off from another one-shot (that got a sequel, so a two-shot?). The characters and the story are the same, but the first two stories takes place before this one, and it’s with Yoongi x reader (not the same reader though).

It’s raining again. Lately, it’s always raining. The rain is everlasting, it seems, drenching the city in a ceaseless, oppressive downpour. The Capital is perpetually shrouded in darkness and gloom, a place where the sun is a distant memory. You’ve grown accustomed to it, ever since you were recruited by The New World Order to guard their secrets. You’ve been trapped in this godforsaken city ever since. Do you like it? Not really, but it’s a job that pays well. They give you a roof over your head and enough to survive—luxuries in this ravaged world.

You came from nothing, clawing your way up since the war began, fighting for every scrap of existence until The New World Order caught you. They gave you a choice: die or work for them. You chose to live, naively hoping that working for them wouldn’t be so bad. But it turns out, it can be quite bad. You’ve done unspeakable things to keep their secrets safe. You’ve killed for them, just as you had killed for yourself before they found you. Now, you don’t even flinch when you have to eliminate someone who gets too close to the truth. Part of you wonders what these secrets are, but you’re not interested. It’s just a job, nothing more.

Tonight is another shift. You head to the New World Order building, ready to patrol the city under the cover of darkness. First, you gear up: leather pants, a basic white shirt, and a black leather biker jacket. A belt around your waist for support, with a strap around your thigh that holsters your gun. A small knife is sheathed at your back, just in case.

You glance out the window. The world outside is as bleak as ever; night has fallen, and the rain taps a morose melody against the glass. You sigh, watching the neon signs flicker, casting a purple and blue glow that dances across your room. Grabbing your keys, you lock the door behind you and sprint down the stairs. This apartment is nothing special, but it’s a step up from the streets where you once lived before the war. It’s a small comfort in a world gone mad.

The rain soaks your skin, but you don’t bother with an umbrella. It’s just rain. You run down the dimly lit main street, the few wandering souls avoiding eye contact as they scurry to obey The New World Order’s curfew. Your boots splash through rain puddles on the unpaved, muddy road. It doesn’t take long to reach the towering New World Order building—its looming presence still sends a shiver down your spine, but you step inside anyway. Scanning your security card, you brace yourself for another night of duty.

You start your shift monitoring security cameras and patrolling the eerie hallways for any sign of suspicious activity. As you return to the front desk, you catch sight of a man attempting to bypass the card reader.

“What are you doing here?” you growl, your hand instinctively hovering near your gun.

The man fumbles with the machine, clearly lacking a security card. Desperation edges his voice as he yells, “I want the data that The New World Order is keeping from us!”

“You’re not getting that,” you reply coldly, assessing the intruder. He seems harmless, more frustrated than dangerous, so you relax, slightly.

“Do you even know what it is that you’re protecting?” he spits, abandoning his futile attempt to climb the machines as the alarm blares. The piercing sound echoes through the corridor, and you quickly pull out the phone issued by the New World Order to silence it.

“I don’t care what I’m protecting. You’ve got no business here. Now leave,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You shouldn’t be so blind to the secrets you’re safekeeping for them,” he hisses, making another hopeless attempt to scale the security machines.

His efforts are laughable, a pathetic display of defiance. A dark chuckle escapes your lips. “Leave, or I’ll shoot you.” This is his final warning. If he doesn't heed it, he’ll meet the cold, indifferent justice of your gun. So be it.

He freezes, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he gauges your resolve. Your unwavering stare breaks his spirit, and he quivers in fear before backing off. Without a word, he turns and bolts, likely retracing his steps. Fool, you think, watching him flee.

The encounter leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s not the first to suggest you should question your work and the secrets you guard. Maybe you should. But you know the moment you do, you’re dead. You’ll lose everything you’ve achieved and everything you hold dear. That fear keeps you in place, and you reckon that’s the point of it all—the New World Order instills fear in everyone, ensuring their control remains absolute.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go in there alone?” Bora asks, her voice tinged with unease. It’s understandable—years of meticulous planning and reconnaissance are culminating in this moment. Whalien52 is about to attempt the impossible: stealing the cure for cancer that The New World Order keeps hidden away.

Jimin isn’t scared. He’s accustomed to these kinds of missions, though this will be his most significant one yet. A good kind of nervousness tingles through him, a mix of excitement and determination. “Yeah, Hobi’s done plenty of research. I know exactly which room to hit,” he says, flashing Bora a reassuring smile.

He gets why she’s scared. Bora and Yoongi have been through hell, and with both of them sick, finding the cure is personal. Yoongi’s condition has worsened over the years, a stark reminder of the injustice that The New World Order perpetuates by hoarding the cure while people die from radiation-induced cancers. The thought makes Jimin’s blood boil.

It’s this anger that led him to join Whalien52 after meeting Jungkook in the wasteland, a desolate remnant of what the bombings and wars left behind. The new government organization threatens to transform the remnants of humanity into a dystopian nightmare—if it hasn’t already.

Jimin thrives as an assassin, driven by a relentless quest for truth. The thrill, the chase, the stealth—it’s all part of the adrenaline rush he lives for. But beneath the excitement lies a deep-seated hatred for the rich elites who hid in their bomb-proof bunkers, safeguarding their technology, only to reemerge and rebuild a civilization for themselves amidst the ruins. Their swift reconstruction of the Capital stands as a bitter reminder of their enduring power.

The injustice has turned him bitter. It’s why he’s vowed to do everything in his power to change the world, to help Whalien52 make knowledge free and accessible to everyone, not just the rich. The gap between rich and poor has become a chasm, with only the vetted elite allowed to live in the Capital. The rest of humanity is left to fend for themselves, struggling for survival in a world that hopes they’ll destroy each other.

Jimin won’t stand for it. This mission isn’t just about stealing a cure, or getting data on possible treatment—it’s about justice, about leveling the playing field, about giving hope to those left in the dark. And he’ll see it through, no matter the cost.

Yoongi comes up to him, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this for me,” he coughs, his voice so raspy it sounds like he’s been smoking forever.

Jimin places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, his gaze shifting briefly to Bora before settling back on Yoongi. “We are doing this for you. But I’m also doing this for everyone else,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion and a glimmer of hope. “You’re not the only one suffering from cancer because of the radiation. We want to help everyone; we can’t just let people die.”

Yoongi flashes a soft smile and sits down to rest, the effort of standing too exhausting for him now. Jimin will do this for him, for Bora, and for the rest of humanity. He doesn’t mind risking his own life in the search for a cure—he might need one later himself.

“I’ll go get ready,” he says, turning away from Bora and Yoongi. He walks past Jungkook and Taehyung in the dimly lit hideout and heads into his room. He pulls on his leather pants, a white shirt, and then his favorite leather bomber jacket, adorned with pink, silver and purple sparkles. The jacket complements his pink fluffy hair perfectly. He retrieves his gun, tucking it into his back pocket—risky, he knows. Then he picks up his katana, swinging it over his back into its sheath. The sword, his preferred weapon, feels reassuringly familiar.

Now he’s ready. Ready to infiltrate the fortress of secrets and retrieve the cure. Ready to fight for a future where knowledge and healing aren’t hoarded by the few. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the mission ahead, a mission that could change everything in this dystopian nightmare they call life.

He says goodbye to everyone, hugging each of them tightly, aware that any moment could be his last. This mission is perilous, and while he has infiltrated The New World Order before without getting caught, this time is different. He will be venturing deeper into their stronghold than ever before.

After bidding farewell to his friends, Jimin strides outside to his motorcycle. The powerful machine, stolen from the Capital, gleams with a sleek, futuristic design. Its pale metal body has an industrial look, and its size dwarfs Jimin as he mounts it. Neon lights flicker to life as he revs the engine, the bike purring beneath him. With a flick of his wrist, he speeds towards the Capital, sand flying from the back wheel.

He knows he must be cautious once he enters the city. Stealth is crucial to avoid detection and successfully infiltrate The New World Order’s building. Failure means everything will have been for nothing.

The rain is endless, a perpetual downpour that defines the Capital. He doesn’t know why it always rains here, only that it does. The empty streets are illuminated by the neon signs adorning the various buildings, casting a colorful glow in the darkness.

He parks his motorcycle near the New World Order building, at the secluded back entrance where security is minimal. This is his best chance.

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door.

It’s all or nothing.

It’s getting late, and the monotony of patrolling the building is wearing you down. The nights are usually quiet, save for the occasional curious stranger trying to access the information you guard. You sigh and head back to the surveillance room, your eyes scanning the screens for anything unusual. Suddenly, you spot a figure moving on one of the monitors. A shot of adrenaline surges through you, breaking the dullness of the night.

The absence of triggered alarms tells you the intruder is a professional. No amateur could bypass the sophisticated security systems. The thought excites you, your heart rate spiking as you dash through the corridors, your hand hovering near your gun. You search each room hastily, growing more anxious with every empty space, until you reach the final room—the one that holds the most guarded secrets.

You pause outside the door, peeking in cautiously.

Inside, a well-defined man with pink, fluffy hair, leather pants, and a sparkly bomber jacket stands with his back to you, working at one of the computers. This is the information hub, where all vital data is stored. This is bad, but you have the element of surprise. Steadying your breath, you draw your gun and step into the doorway, your voice commanding, “Freeze!”

The man doesn’t freeze. Instead, you watch as he swiftly pulls a USB drive from the computer, moving with a grace that is almost dance-like. Before you can react, he glides across the floor and stands before you, a sword at your throat. A thrill of excitement runs through your body.

You stand still, a smile twisting on your lips, locked in a standoff with the pink-haired intruder. He’s chosen the wrong weapon to threaten you with. “You brought a sword to a gunfight?” you laugh, despite the blade pressing against your throat, your gun aimed at his chest. Who really has the upper hand here?

“Oh, I have a gun too,” he smirks, his voice sweet but laced with danger.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe, standing your ground.

“Getting information,” he replies matter-of-factly, not even breaking a sweat.

“You’re stealing. I can’t allow you to leave,” you spit, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Do you even know what kind of information you’re guarding?” he challenges, his words striking a chord. He’s not the first to ask you this today, and it makes you pause. “I know nothing, and I don’t care,” you respond after a moment’s thought.

“You really should,” he says, stepping closer until your gun is pressed against him. He doesn’t seem afraid, almost as if he’s an adrenaline junkie like you. But no, he’s not scared. He’s reckless. Your finger hovers near the trigger, but something makes you hesitate. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t like it.

His eyes, dark pools of obsidian, glint with amusement. He chuckles, and before you can react, his boot slams into your stomach, sending you sprawling to the cold, hard floor. Your gun slips from your grip, clattering away.

The man towers over you, his boot pressing down on your pussy, the katana poised at your throat, its cold blade grazing your skin. You raise your arms in a defensive pose, trapped and weaponless. He smirks, waving your gun tauntingly.

“You’re guarding information that can save humanity. What you’re doing is sick,” he spits, pressing his boot harder into you. Why does that feel hot? Why do tingles shoot through your body? Damn it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you growl back, genuinely confused. Your mind feels hazy with adrenaline and something else.

“The cure for cancer,” he snarls, his anger palpable.

Your eyes widen. The cure for cancer? You’ve heard whispers, but you didn’t know that’s what you were guarding. You know there’s treatment, but the New World Order has been hoarding those as well, making treatment inaccessible for the common people.

He presses his boot into you even more, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through your body.

“Oh my god. Are you getting turned on right now?” His voice drips with dark amusement, mocking you.

“Fuck no!” you yell, even as your body betrays you, responding to the pressure of his boot. You know you’re aroused, but you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I can smell you from here. There’s no point in lying,” he chuckles, lifting his boot from your crotch, though his sword remains at your throat.

You hate how observant he is, and you need to change the subject, to find a way out. You growl, “I’m not. And you’re not getting away. I don’t care if it’s the cure for cancer or whatever you’ve stolen.”

“I have my katana at your throat. I’m sure I’ll make it out just fine,” he replies, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve got what I came for,” he says, smirking down at you. “I’m flattered you’re turned on. Maybe if we met under different circumstances,” he adds, his eyes glinting with dark lust. “You should look into the secrets you’re guarding,” he says, withdrawing his katana and retreating, tossing your gun far out of reach.

You scramble to your feet as soon as he’s gone, snatching up your gun and bolting after him through the corridors. He’s silent, almost ghost-like, but you chase him nonetheless. He can’t leave with the vital information. The New World Order will have your head if they find out. You hear the click of a door—it’s the backdoor. You rush outside, the heavy rain stinging your face as the neon lights flicker on the deserted street. You catch sight of his motorcycle’s tail light disappearing into the rain.

Fuck.

As soon as he crosses the threshold between the Capital and the dystopian suburb, the rain ceases abruptly. He twists the throttle of his motorcycle, speeding through the desolate landscape back to the hideout. His heart pounds, but he doesn’t look back. He doubts he’s being followed.

The journey back is swift. As the hideout comes into view, he decelerates, parking his bike with a sense of triumph. He’s relieved not to return empty-handed and, more importantly, to have survived the mission. Reflecting on the encounter, a smirk forms on his face. You were easier to deceive than he anticipated. A part of him hopes to see you again, intrigued by your reaction to seeing him.

He wonders if he could sway you, make you see the truth about the secrets you’re guarding for The New World Order. Could he enlist you in his cause? The thought intrigues him, though he doubts it. You seemed too ignorant, too indifferent to the atrocities made by the regime.

The night is still young as he dismounts his bike and strides toward the door. It opens easily—unlocked, as usual. They really should lock it; you never know who might come by.

He’s greeted by a flurry of curious eyes as his friends jump up, their eagerness palpable. “Relax,” he gestures, “sit down.” Reaching into the pocket of his leather pants, he pulls out the USB drive. The tiny piece of tech holds the key to saving the world— the cure for cancer. Something they had all doubted, but had uncovered through relentless investigation, exposing the dark secrets of The New World Order.

He strides over to Namjoon, whose eyes glitter with excitement, his fingers itching to grasp the device and run an analysis. Jimin hands him the USB drive with a proud smile. “Here,” he says, “I hope everything’s on there. I was interrupted while pulling the data.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon responds, already heading into a back room, eager to delve into the contents.

Jimin collapses onto the spot Namjoon vacated, feeling the weight of their stares.

Bora clears her throat. “You said you were interrupted?”

“Ah, yeah,” he chuckles, revealing his crooked teeth. “A security guard. But she was easy to handle.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Yoongi grunts, his voice strained and raspy.

“It was,” Jimin shrugs, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. In truth, it had been almost too easy. He can’t shake the thought: had he overlooked something, or was fate simply on his side this time?

Jungkook’s questioning stare pierces through Jimin, but he doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to share how you made his blood boil with adrenaline and lust. He doesn’t even know your name, but you ignited something within him, a cocktail of emotions in mere moments. He’s both intrigued and captivated by you.

Time blurs as Jimin waits, lost in his thoughts until Namjoon reenters the living room. The look on Namjoon’s face is enough: it’s not the cure.

“This data isn’t complete,” Namjoon groans, frustration etched across his features as he waves the USB drive. He paces anxiously, “It has some information on cancer treatment, but the data on the cure is fragmented. Jin, can you take a look at it? All I see are molecules. I don’t know what to make of it,” he adds, his voice tinged with nervous laughter and defeat.

Jimin’s stomach sinks, a heavy weight of disappointment and anger settling in. He had hoped to secure all the needed information, but now they’re still unable to help Bora, Yoongi, and countless others suffering from the cancer that The New World Order likely caused. The thought sickens him. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were behind everything—the war, the slaughter of mankind. Sometimes it feels like The New World Order is playing a sick game of battle royale with the world’s population. People fight desperately, both for information and survival, in a world where information and treatment are hoarded like treasures.

Jimin’s mind races, thoughts swirling with the grim reality: when people are dying and sick, they become desperate, willing to do anything to stay alive. He feels a bitter mix of anger and sadness, questioning if he was delusional to think it would be easy to obtain the cure or even secure vital treatment information. The hope that things could change for the better feels like a distant dream.

Jin takes the USB drive, slipping it into his pocket, and gives Jimin a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to his patient and study room. Jimin feels a gnawing sense of inadequacy, berating himself for getting caught and distracted by you. He wonders if he should attempt to sneak back into the New World Order building, determined to obtain the missing data they desperately need.

“I’ll go back and see if I can get the remaining data in a few days,” he declares, his voice tinged with deflation but underpinned by a strong current of willpower. He can’t afford to fail again. The mission is too important, the stakes too high.

It’s been a few days since the pink-haired guy infiltrated the New World Order building undetected, slipping through your fingers like sand. The incident has left you feeling weird and anxious. You expected The New World Order to contact you, reprimand you, or worse, eliminate you. But there’s been nothing—no messages, no ominous visits. Maybe they don’t know about your slip-up yet? Or perhaps they’re biding their time.

Your phone, a sleek piece of tech courtesy of The New World Order, vibrates in your hand. You unlock it, and a text message glares back at you.

New World Order: Come to the headquarters in 15 minutes.

That’s all it says, nothing more, nothing less. You gulp, feeling your palms grow sweaty. This is it. This is how you die. Thrown off the tall building. You’ve heard stories, and they’re not nice. The tales of disappearances and silent executions run through your mind, making you shiver with nerves.

You lace up your boots with trembling hands, each loop a countdown to your potential demise. Trudging down the stairs of your dark apartment, you step into the rainy street. The city around you is a dismal sprawl of neon lights and shadows, a perfect reflection of your inner turmoil. You try to calm your racing heart, but it’s a futile effort. Every step feels heavier, every breath more labored as you make your way to the New World Order headquarters, fearing that this is the end.

You reach the New World Order headquarters, a monolith of cold steel and glass looming above the city. For a moment, you let the rain caress your face, cleansing you of your sins. Maybe they won’t mention anything? Clenching your fists, you walk into your workplace, passing through the security scanners, the impassive front desk, the sterile halls, and finally to the elevators. You step into one, the doors closing with a cold finality. The elevator ascends, a silent reminder of the 30 floors that separate you from potential death should you be pushed out. You close your eyes, banishing the thought.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing an amble-lit hallway adorned in red and gold. The color scheme feels both luxurious and ominous, a blend of future opulence and ancient dread. The red rug underfoot seems out of place, a relic amidst the high-tech surroundings. It suddenly hits you—it might be there to hide a certain color of liquid. No, you shouldn’t think about it. Nothing’s going to happen to you.

Each step down the hallway feels like walking through a graveyard at midnight, the silence thick and oppressive. Your breath quickens, your hand hovering over the handle of the door at the end. This is it. Just get it over with.

With sweaty hands, you push open the door and step inside. A tall man in a black suit stands with his back to you, staring out of the tall windows. The view overlooks the bleak, rainy city, a desolate wasteland stretching to the horizon. The room is deathly silent, save for the patter of rain against the glass. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

He doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, his presence as cold and unyielding as the cityscape beyond. You gulp, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to speak, waiting for your fate to be decided.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing in the tension-filled room. The man’s attention snaps to you, and he turns on his heels with a sinister smile. “Y/N!”

The way he says your name sends shivers down your spine, raising the hairs on your body. An urge to flee or jump out of the window floods your senses, but you force yourself to steady your resolve.

You recognize him as the head of the organization, though his name remains a mystery, like everyone else’s in this godforsaken place. Faces are familiar, but names are a dangerous luxury.

“Glad you could make it. Take a seat,” he gestures to the chair in front of his imposing wooden desk, an artifact of richness you could never dream of affording.

You gulp, a slight ringing in your ears accompanying your erratic heartbeat. Your palms are slick with sweat as you move to sit down.

“Nervous?” he asks, his voice calm and commanding as he paces the room.

“Yes,” you manage to say, gulping again as you track his movements.

“Good,” he replies, looking down at you with a predatory glint in his eye.

“I saw the surveillance footage from the break-in a few days ago,” he begins, his eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity. Fear knots in your stomach, paralyzing your muscles as you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You remain silent, too scared to speak, knowing that he already knows everything that happened.

“You’ve gone soft. If this happens again, shoot the intruder, or you’ll be the one staring down the barrel of a gun,” he says, his voice sharp and precise, each word like a blade against your throat. A chill runs through you, and you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You’ve messed up, but somehow he’s letting you off with a warning—something you didn’t expect. A small part of you dares to breathe a little easier.

“Now leave before I change my mind,” he hisses. You flinch, your body reacting instinctively as you rush to the door. Bowing quickly, you slip out without a word. Outside, you realize you’ve been holding your breath and you gasp for air, your hands trembling.

You know you have to do your job better if you want to survive. The threat lingers in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder about the secrets you’re guarding. What could be so important? Maybe it’s time to investigate—time to find out if this job is truly worth risking your life for.

Your boss won’t find out, right? You gulp, pushing the thought away. You need to know. You’ve done your job blindly for so long, but the time has come to uncover the truth. You know the higher-ups won’t give you any information, even if you asked, which is why you find yourself downstairs in the control room.

You locate the computer you usually use, turn it on, and log into the company drive. Your fingers tremble as you navigate through multiple folders, delving deeper into the rabbit hole. You uncover information you never imagined existed. Details about how and why the war started shock you—who knew a failed peace treaty could lead to such global devastation? The realization hits you hard: the war was actually orchestrated by a few countries aiming to seize power when the peace treaty collapsed. Those people now form The New World Order. A chill runs down your spine.

You stumble upon a folder detailing the side effects of radiation, studies on various cancer treatments, and ultimately, a cure for cancer. Disbelief floods your mind as you stare at the words on the screen. You blink, hoping the text will change, but it remains. The next document reveals their sinister plan: to keep this life-saving information hidden, ensuring only the rich survive while letting the rest of humanity rot and die.

This is what the pink-haired man wanted you to know. Regret and anger churn in your gut—you should have listened, should have questioned everything from the start. You feel sick, overwhelmed by the weight of the truth. You close the computer, resolve hardening within you.

As you leave the control room and head home, your mind swirls with thoughts. You need to figure out what to do with this explosive information before your shift tonight. The rain continues to fall, each drop a reminder of the world’s decay. You realize now that your role in The New World Order’s scheme is far more sinister than you ever imagined.

Jimin has to obtain the missing piece of data his group needs for the cure for cancer, or at least information to develop new treatments. Ever since the war started, all research and treatment for cancer have been inaccessible. Late at night, at their hideout far from the Capital, Jimin prepares for his mission. He looks at Bora and Yoongi—Yoongi, in particular, has deteriorated, and Jimin fears he doesn’t have much time left. The urgency gnaws at him; failure is not an option.

He doesn’t know whether he hopes to meet you at the New World Order headquarters or not. The thought of you makes his heart race, but he knows that if you get in his way, his mission might fail. He sighs, waving goodbye to the group, then steps outside. The night is oppressive, the air thick with the scent of decay and rain. He puts on his helmet, the world narrowing to the visor’s view, and straddles his bike. The engine roars to life, vibrating through him, merging with the adrenaline surging in his veins.

It’s now or never.

He twists the accelerator, the bike surging forward into the darkness, toward the lifeless, desolate Capital. The neon lights flicker ominously as he speeds into enemy territory, a lone figure against the backdrop of a crumbling dystopia.

The room is dark—just the way you prefer it. Your eyes, adept at seeing through the gloom, catch every detail, including the pink-haired intruder hunched over a computer terminal, stealing vital information from your employer. Silently, you watch him, observing his methodical movements as he navigates the screen. The monitor casts a ghostly blue light, making his hair shimmer with a surreal purple hue. You can’t deny he looks striking.

Tonight, you decide not to intervene. After your own clandestine investigation into your employer, you understand why he’s after the data—why so many risk everything to steal it. The New World Order’s secrets are dark and twisted, and the pink-haired man’s quest suddenly seems justified.

Minutes tick by in silence, the intruder’s focus unbroken. His sparkly bomber jacket gleams faintly in the dim light. Finally, he seems satisfied, pulling a USB drive from the terminal. The moment he turns around, you flick on the lights.

Yellow fluorescent tubes flicker to life, bathing the room in a harsh, sickly glow. He freezes, one hand instinctively hovering over the katana strapped to his back, the other gripping the USB drive.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you smirk, leaning casually against the wall by the exit, blocking his escape.

He hisses, scanning you up and down before his features relax into a smirk. “Where’s your gun? Aren’t you gonna try to stop me again, pretty?”

Your eyes sparkle at the compliment, much like his jacket, and you chuckle softly. “Nah,” you shrug, but straighten your posture, exuding confidence.

He quirks an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

You take in his appearance—black leather pants hugging his thick thighs, lace-up military boots, and that unmistakable sparkly bomber jacket. With a soft, yet sultry smile, you reply, “I finally opened my eyes to what’s really going on. What’s truly been happening, and I don’t like it one bit.”

His shoulders relax further, and his hands withdraw from the katana and the gun stashed behind his back. He eyes you with a mixture of caution and intrigue, seemingly pleased by your revelation.

“So, you’re just gonna let me go?” he asks, ensuring he hasn’t misheard.

“Yeah. But actually…” you begin, drawing out your words to capture his attention as you step closer, batting your eyes at him. “I have more information back at my apartment that you might want to see. I can take you there. Show you.”

You can’t help the way your body responds to him—you want him, and you want him bad. It’s true, you do have valuable information at your place, but your ulterior motives are undeniable. The risk is immense. The moment you make this move, you’ll become a wanted criminal, hunted by the New World Order. But the thought of remaining complicit in their schemes sickens you. You crave freedom, and he might just be the key to it.

For a flicker of a second, you catch him stuttering, but he quickly collects himself, smirking back at you. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips in a teasing move, and you feel a tingle between your legs.

“Let’s go then,” he says, brushing past you and out the door. You follow closely, aware of the cameras tracking your every move, but you don't care. Time is short; the New World Order will come after you soon, so you need to be quick.

The pink-haired man leads the way through the dim, familiar halls to the back door. The green emergency light flickers ominously overhead. He pushes the door open, and the bleak night greets you with flickering neon lights. His sleek silver bike stands nearby. As you approach, he hands you his helmet and lets you straddle his bike, taking the place behind you. His body presses close against your back, and a surge of arousal courses through you.

You turn the bike on, and it roars to life. With a swift movement, you speed through the empty, rain-soaked streets back to your apartment. His arms wrap securely around your torso, and it feels nice. His head rests against your shoulder, and you catch a whiff of his scent—like fresh cotton on a summer's breeze, something you haven’t smelled in a long time. You long for it.

It doesn’t take long to reach your apartment. You turn off the bike, parking it out of sight from prying eyes. He gets off first, then you remove the helmet and jump down. Neither of you speaks as you walk up the stairs to your first-floor apartment. You quickly unlock the door and push into your dark space. The lights are off, and the place is messy with clothes strewn about, but you don't care. The apartment is a tiny one-bedroom, an open space where the kitchen, living room, and bedroom blend together. It’s small, but it’s home.

“Welcome,” you whisper, closing the door behind you, sealing both of you in a cocoon of secrecy and danger.

The tension between you feels thick as you make your way inside, heading straight to your desk and rummaging for the flash drive you’ve hidden. The man’s eyes follow your every move as you open a drawer and pull out the drive, smirking as you wave it in the air. “This has more information on it that I think you’ll need.”

He stalks closer, his smirk widening. In the minimal light, he seems even more predatory than before. The look in his eyes suggests he wants to devour you right then and there.

“What’s in it for you?” he asks, standing mere millimeters from you, your noses almost touching. His warm breath fans your ear and neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Take me with you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes roam your body, lingering on your eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, and collarbone.

“Hmm,” he hums, his hands landing on your hips. You feel the warmth of his fingers through your leather pants.

Your breath quickens, and you feel like you’re crumbling beneath his stare, utterly aroused for this man whose name you still don’t know. The mixture of arousal and adrenaline makes you feel almost high.

You close the gap between you and kiss him. It’s quick and needy, and he responds immediately, pressing his body hungrily into yours, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your waist above your pants. His lips are soft, but his moves are hard and hungry.

He moves his lips to your ear, kissing and licking it, then trailing down to your neck. He marks it with his teeth, eliciting a needy moan from you. The world outside your darkened apartment fades away, leaving only the desperate, electric connection between you.

“You’re really something,” he pants into your ear, his breath sending tingles down your spine and all the way to your core. “I want to taste you, and I don’t even know your name.”

You chuckle, the sound strained and laden with lust. “It’s Y/N,” you manage between pants. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Jimin,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing your neck before biting gently.

Fuck.

“I want you, Jimin,” you groan as he pulls back slightly, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“But we don’t have much time,” you say breathlessly, the urgency of your situation seeping into your voice. “The New World Order will be looking for me soon.” You fumble with your pants, dragging them and your panties down to expose yourself to the cool air of the apartment.

In one fluid motion, Jimin drops to his knees, looking up at you with a teasing lick of his lips. “No worries, I can be quick.” Without another word, he dives in, his mouth sealing around your wet heat.

You gasp his name, your legs turning to jelly as your hands find purchase in his pink locks. His tongue is relentless, strong and skilled as it laps over your clit and teases your entrance. The obscene noises he makes against you only heighten your arousal, your breathing growing shallow as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Your back meets the wall, and you do your best to hold yourself up as he devours you from the floor. His mouth works you expertly, sucking and licking, driving you closer to the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens, your body trembling with the impending climax.

Jimin grunts into your cunt, his teeth grazing your clit, and the world shatters around you. He sucks hard, creating a perfect seal around your sensitive nub, and the coil in your stomach snaps. You come undone on his tongue, panting furiously as waves of pleasure wash over you.

Even as you orgasm, he doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing its assault, his nose pressing against your clit. You grab his hair, trying to pull him away as your sensitivity peaks, but he holds you there, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation and back into the abyss of pleasure.

His face glistens with your slick, and you think he looks beautiful, so you grab his sharp jaw and pull him up for a kiss. You don’t care that you taste yourself on his plush lips.

You break away and say, “I really want to return the favor,” your hands toying with his pants as you brush against his already erect dick.

He pushes your hand away gently. “It’s okay. You said to be quick, so you can do that another time.” He kisses you again, trailing down to the other side of your neck, then up to the shell of your ear. “I really just want to fuck you now.”

You’re drenched, dripping with arousal. His words render you speechless; you bite your bottom lip and nod, anticipation coursing through you.

The sound of his zipper sends a thrill down your spine as he opens his pants. He drags his boxers down, and his cock springs free. It’s thick and of an average length, and the sight makes you salivate. You wish you had time to take him into your mouth, but that’s a pleasure for another time, like he promised.

The head of his cock is red, with a bead of precum at the tip. It looks beautiful, and your pussy clenches around the emptiness, eager to be filled. You can’t wait to have him stretch you, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. It’s honestly been years, and as you realize this, you think he should have prepared you more. But you don’t get to mull over it for long; you feel the tip of his cock against your folds, and in one fluid motion, he pushes inside you.

You moan his name as he grabs both of your legs and wraps them around his waist, driving himself deeper into you. You feel so fucking full, it’s delicious.

“Fuck. I forgot about a condom,” he pants, slamming you hard against the wall. He stays inside for a moment before beginning a relentless rhythm of thrusts.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, “I’m clean, and I can’t get pregnant.”

He just grunts in your ear, then starts nibbling on it. The pace he sets is quick, hard, and dirty—unforgiving. But you don’t mind; you're pressed for time anyway. The pleasure is intense, and the way he growls into your ear makes the knot form in your stomach again.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he growls, thrusting hard and deep. “You wanted this right from the start, didn’t you?” His voice is low, dangerously so, making you even wetter because he’s so right.

“Such a fucking slut for cock,” he pants, his tongue trailing along your neck. “No one in this godforsaken city to satisfy your needy pussy.”

You clench around him, your hands gripping his shoulders, fingers digging into the back of his sparkly jacket.

“Fuck. You’re so tight,” he groans, his hips working overtime to pleasure you, and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Are you gonna come?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

You moan in response, releasing a wave of liquid around his cock, making the glide even smoother.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous,” he says, licking your neck again. “I’m gonna come too.”

With a rapid burst of thrusts, he spills his warm seed inside your still-pulsating pussy. For a moment, you rest your foreheads together, panting for air. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he hungrily kisses your lips.

You feel a mixture of your essences trailing out of you, pooling on the floor or your panties—you don’t really care.

As you struggle to steady your breathing and rapid heartbeat, a pounding on your door shatters the moment. It's not gentle—it’s hard and oppressive, sending a terrible shiver down your spine. The New World Order. Your mind turns razor-sharp, senses heightened. Jimin quickly softens inside you, then pulls out, your legs falling to the floor, dripping semen as he pulls up his pants and grabs his gun and the hard drive.

You do the same, hastily pulling up your pants as the banging continues. The door handle rattles, but it doesn't open. Thank fuck you locked it.

“We have to leave,” you pant, your heart in your throat. You fumble for your phone, then throw it into your room—you don’t need it; they can track you with that.

“No shit,” he grunts, running a hand through his disheveled pink hair.

“We gotta jump out the window,” you say, fear in your eyes. You know it’s only a matter of time before they break down the door.

You grab Jimin’s hand and pull him to the window beside your bed. Thankful that you live on the first floor, you make the jump first, landing on the dirty ground. Jimin follows, landing more gracefully. You hear the brute force of the door breaking, and you startle, fear coursing through you. But Jimin is quick, pulling you to his bike, shoving his helmet onto your head. He straddles the bike, and without much thought, you climb on behind him.

You lean against him, feeling the rapid beating of your heart. He turns on the bike, and you hear shouting and gunshots from your apartment as Jimin speeds down the rain-soaked streets. You lay your head against his back, closing your eyes against the chaos behind you.

Jimin parks his bike in front of the Whalien 52 headquarters, and you dismount first, removing the helmet and handing it to him. He follows suit, and you both stride into the building. It’s well past midnight now, and as you walk into the headquarters with Jimin, all eyes turn toward you. The tension in the room is palpable; they’ve likely been anxiously awaiting his safe return.

“Hi,” he says casually, plopping onto the couch with a soft thud.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung strides up, pointing at you with a raised brow.

“Oh, that’s Y/N. The woman who got in my way last time,” Jimin shrugs as if this is information everyone should already know.

“So you decided to take her home?” Taehyung asks in disbelief.

“I helped him gain extra information. And I want out of the New World Order,” you say, crossing your arms, not flinching under their scrutinizing stares.

“You’re the enemy though,” Yoongi joins the conversation, his voice strained with a cough.

“She really isn’t. Do you even know how much she’s risked just by coming here?” Jimin retorts, defending you without fully understanding why. He knows you can defend yourself just fine.

“I have a target on my back now. So I want to help you guys. Make things right in the world. That’s what you want to do, right?” you ask, scanning the open living room space.

The room falls silent, the weight of your words sinking in. The dim, flickering lights cast long shadows, amplifying the room’s tension. Each member of the group seems to wrestle with their thoughts, eyes flicking between you and Jimin. Finally, Seokjin steps forward, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

Seokjin approaches Jimin with an intense gaze. “Did you get all the data?”

Jimin nods silently and hands over both the USB drive and the flash drive you gave him in your apartment. Seokjin’s eyes light up with a rare glimmer of hope as he takes the hardware and retreats to his makeshift lab.

You slump down beside Jimin, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Jungkook steps forward, extending a hand. “Welcome to Whalien52, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, offering a tired smile, then lean back against Jimin. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you both allow yourselves a moment of rest. But Jimin’s mind races with concern. How quickly will the New World Order track you down? Did they follow you here?

Time becomes a blur in the dimly lit room. You drift off to sleep on Jimin’s shoulder, and his eyelids grow heavy as well. Just as he’s about to succumb to slumber, Seokjin bursts into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“I’ve sequenced a cure from the data,” he announces, his voice brimming with joy. “And treatments for various cancers too.”

The room erupts in cheers and laughter, a collective sigh of relief and celebration filling the air.

“I’m preparing the cure for Yoongi and Bora now,” Seokjin adds, his pride evident.

Jimin feels a surge of relief and accomplishment. They’ve finally done it. You’ve secured the cure for cancer. Now Yoongi and Bora can be saved. And perhaps, just perhaps, they can save the rest of civilization. But first, they have to deal with the looming threat of the New World Order.

The battle is far from over.

It’s been a few days, and the absence of the New World Order’s presence is unnerving. You expected them to chase you and Jimin out of the city, but they haven’t. This silence feels ominous, a dark cloud hanging over your newfound sanctuary.

You’ve settled into the daily routines of Whalien52, where hope and caution dance a tense waltz. Seokjin tirelessly crafts cures and treatments. Yoongi and Bora, the first recipients, show promising signs of recovery, their improvements a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty. The group celebrates these small victories, buzzing with a cautious optimism that almost feels too good to be true.

In these days of uneasy peace, you’ve found roles within the group. Namjoon introduced you to his intricate tech—ingenious weapons and machines designed for survival. Taehyung showed you around the small town that Whalien52 calls home. On the horizon, the Capital looms like a dark sentinel, a constant reminder of the lurking threat.

Despite the calm surface, the air is thick with anxiety. The lack of action from the New World Order feels wrong. Yoongi polishes weapons with a grim focus, and you’ve all had tense conversations about the impending attack you’re sure is coming. Jungkook echoes your concerns, insisting on readiness.

Hoseok monitors the New World Order’s communications, but all he gets is an unsettling silence. This lack of intel twists your stomach into knots. Each passing day, the tension ratchets up. The quiet eats at you, turning every creak and rustle into a potential threat.

Weeks pass, and the tension in the headquarters is palpable. You’re all on edge, constantly looking over your shoulders. Every sound is magnified, each one making you jump, hearts racing with the fear that the New World Order has finally come for you.

Everyone is exhausted, sleep deprived and on edge, each day a relentless battle against the looming threat of the New World Order. You long for an end to this tense limbo, for the chance to truly rest.

Yoongi’s condition has worsened, and Seokjin’s latest research scatters your fragile hopes. “This isn’t a cure,” he admits, deflated. “It’s just a temporary fix, a treatment.”

Yoongi coughs weakly but manages a smile, hugging his girlfriend Bora tightly. “But it helps,” he says softly. “A cure was always a dream. There’s never been a real cure for cancer, and maybe there never will be.”

Bora kisses his forehead, her eyes glistening with determination. “The treatment is helping,” she insists, caressing his cheeks. “Maybe Seokjin can alter it, make it better, stronger?” She turns to Seokjin, who nods, already lost in thought, considering how to enhance the treatment. You all want to help, driven by a fierce collective will to save Yoongi.

You walk over to Jimin, giving him a soft kiss, seeking a moment of solace. Suddenly, the sharp crack of a gunshot shatters the room. Bora screams in pain, and chaos erupts. You all drop to the floor, hearts pounding in sheer panic. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence, broken only by Bora’s agonized cries. You can’t see her or Yoongi, shielded by the couch.

Frantically, you search for Jimin, and his hand finds yours, squeezing tightly. The connection is a lifeline, a brief reassurance amidst the terror.

More gunshots pierce the air, and you hold your breath, praying Bora is alright. Your heart races, the reality sinking in: the New World Order is here, ready to kill you all.

With steely resolve, you clench your free hand, feeling the cold metal of your holstered gun against your thigh.

It’s time.

Time to make a stand.

Time to fight back.

You look at Jimin, your eyes wide with panic as your heart pounds in your ears. He army crawls to your weapon stash, grabbing an arsenal: a rifle he slides over to Yoongi, a gun for himself, and his sword, which he straps on while still lying on the floor. Jungkook, with his tattooed hand, clutches a rifle down his length of his body. You scan the room for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

Bora’s screams have diminished to grunts of pain. Yoongi drags her towards Seokjin’s room, leaving a trail of blood. An eerie silence falls as you watch them. You hear Yoongi's voice from Seokjin’s room, explaining that Bora’s wound is a flesh wound, pleading for Seokjin to take care of her. Yoongi crawls back into the living room.

“Is Bora okay?” you ask, sweat beading on your hairline, your breathing quick and shallow.

“Yeah. Seokjin’s got her. Namjoon, Tae, and Hobi are in there too,” Yoongi grits his teeth, his face pale with anger.

Jungkook crawls over to join you, “I guess it’s the New World Order knocking down our doors.”

“We have to fight back. Or die trying,” Yoongi spits, his anger palpable. “I’m sick and tired of them. We need to overthrow them,” he says, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. You’re all on high alert, fighting for your lives.

The door bursts open, a harsh light from outside flooding in as heavy boots stomp on the floor. You count six people by the rhythm of their steps and then a seventh, moving slowly and deliberately. Ominous, and just by the sound of the boots, you know who it is—the leader.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as your fingers curl around the trigger of your gun. The footsteps grow louder, the moment drawing closer. You roll onto your back, raising your gun for the inevitable confrontation.

Suddenly, you’re yanked by your legs, sliding across the floor with a yell, losing your grip on Jimin’s hand. The leader looms over you, a shadow of dread, as you prepare to fight for your life.

“Well, well. What have we here? Y/N. Nice to see you,” the man sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. You don’t know his name, but you remember him all too well—the leader of the New World Order, the man who had last spoken to you in his office after Jimin’s initial attempt to steal information from your former employer.

You gulp, pointing your gun at him.

He tuts dismissively, “You know that’s useless,” and with a swift kick, he sends your gun skidding across the floor.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” he hisses, his hands casually resting in his pockets while his men, guns trained on you, stand menacingly behind him.

“What you’re doing is sick,” you fume, anger bubbling within you.

Suddenly, Jimin rises, his gun aimed directly at the man before you.

Recognition flickers in the leader’s eyes, “Ah,” he chuckles darkly, “so this is the man you left me for.”

Jimin grunts, “Hands off her.”

“Protective, huh?” he laughs, a cold, mechanical sound that sends chills down your spine.

Your eyes dart between Jimin and the leader, anxiety tightening your chest. You don’t know who will be quicker on the trigger. You hold your breath, terrified for Jimin’s safety. Your heart pounds so loudly it nearly deafens you.

A gunshot echoes through the room, followed by a heavy thud. Your heart sinks as you see the leader still standing. Fear grips you, paralyzing you from turning around to check on Jimin. You feel a scream or a sob rising in your throat, maybe both.

Then, you hear the sound of someone standing up and Yoongi’s voice cuts through the tension, “You are one sick bastard. Keeping vital information to yourself, letting people die of cancer and radiation.” His voice is thick with anger and disdain.

The leader turns his attention to Yoongi and chuckles again, a sound you’ve come to loathe. “Only the elite deserve to live. I don’t mind letting people die to create the perfect world.”

You scoff, the revelation of his twisted ideology making you nauseous. The horror of being part of such a sick scheme churns in your stomach.

As you try to glance over your shoulder to see Jimin, one of the leader’s men grabs you, yanking you into a sitting position. Panic surges through you, but determination hardens your resolve. It’s time to fight back, no matter the cost.

Finally, you spot Jimin lying on the floor. There’s no blood, thankfully, and his hand is giving you a thumbs up. Relief floods your body, momentarily pushing back the fear.

“You are so sick,” Yoongi spits, his voice a raw edge. “You killed so many people, for what? Utopia?”

Your old boss nods, chuckling darkly. “Too much freedom breeds murder and chaos. I needed a clean slate,” he shrugs, strolling past you towards Yoongi, who keeps his rifle trained on him. “People need order. Someone to follow. When the weak and poor have died off, I’ll guide the rest into a New World Order.”

Yoongi spits on the floor, “Over my fucking dead body.” His index finger twitches towards the trigger, his stance solid and ready.

You stop breathing.

Yoongi fires, but your old boss is faster, landing a shot in Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi hisses, dropping the rifle to the floor.

“I told you it’s useless,” your old boss sneers, chuckling. “Next time I’ll aim for the head.”

Time stretches and warps as he paces the room, taking stock of you all. You’re at a standstill, trapped in the crosshairs of his malevolent gaze. Jimin remains prone, waiting for an opportunity. Yoongi grunts in pain, clutching his wounded shoulder. Jungkook lies still, eyes flicking between you and the leader.

It feels like game over.

You’re all going to die.

Your old boss paces slowly, chuckling, reveling in your predicament. “I wonder who I should kill first…” he muses, dragging out the words as he turns towards you. “Your boyfriend, maybe? How do you feel about watching him die?”

Your heart pounds wildly.

You struggle against the grip of the man holding you by your hair, pain searing through your scalp, but the thought of Jimin’s death is unbearable.

The leader strides towards Jimin, raising his gun. Your breath catches in your throat, terror gripping you as you watch. You scream with all the force in your lungs, a primal sound tearing through the air as you close your eyes, bracing for the worst.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound of three gunshots fills your ears, and you scream even louder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you call out your lover’s name. More gunshots follow, and the man holding your hair lets go, dropping you to the wooden floor with a heavy thud. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to blink them away, desperate to find Jimin.

But you don’t see him.

Panic surges through you. Where is he?

Your gaze shifts, and you see your old boss, his head snapped back from a point-blank shot, blood pooling beneath him. You gasp, turning your head just in time to see familiar lace-up boots moving purposefully across the room. Chaos reigns. Bora stands in the hallway, a rifle trained on the lifeless body of your boss. She was the one who shot him?

Jimin moves through the room like a lethal dancer, his katana slicing through enemies with precision. Jungkook is on his feet too, methodically picking off the men from the New World Order. Amid the chaos, you see Bora approach Yoongi, who is clutching his shoulder.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asks, her voice strained but determined as she examines his injury.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he pants, noting the bandage on her thigh, stained with blood. “You should lie down.”

“I could say the same to you,” she chuckles, raising her rifle to take aim at another man.

How many are down now? You scan the room, counting seven bodies sprawled on the floor.

“Is it over?” Seokjin calls out, peeking from his room down the hall.

“I think so,” Jungkook replies, clapping his hands together, trying to shake off the tension.

The room falls into a tense silence, the aftermath of the battle settling over you like a shroud. You push yourself up, your body aching and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Jimin meets your gaze, and you feel a flicker of hope amidst the wreckage.

For now, you’ve survived.

You rush over to Jimin, pulling him into a tight embrace, relief flooding through you. “I’m okay, babe,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. Thank God.

“We need to take the fight to their headquarters. They’ll be coming for us anyway. Better to surprise them,” Yoongi declares, his voice grim.

“Don’t you think they’d anticipate that?” Jungkook counters, eyeing Yoongi critically. “And you’re in no condition to fight, hyung.”

“The fuck I’m not. It’s just my shoulder. I’m fine,” Yoongi pants, picking up his rifle.

“Let’s go,” Bora interjects from behind Yoongi, her voice determined.

Yoongi spins around, his mouth agape. “You’re staying, babe. Your leg—”

“This is as much my fight as it is yours, and Seokjin patched me up,” she retorts, her stern look brooking no argument. Yoongi deflates, conceding to her resolve.

You all huddle together, gathering weapons for the imminent battle. Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stay back, while the rest of you head outside to your vehicles.

You and Jimin mount his bike, while Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora take the car. Jimin hands you a helmet, then puts on his own before revving the engine. The bike purrs to life, and with a roar, he accelerates toward the Capital, Jungkook and the others following in the car.

The journey is a blur, the rain pouring down in relentless sheets as you navigate the desolate streets. The Capital looms ahead, a monolithic reminder of the oppressive regime you’re up against. You skid to a stop in front of the New World Order headquarters, jumping off the bike with Jimin close behind. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora emerge from the car, weapons in hand, steely determination etched on their faces.

The rain-soaked mud reflects the harsh glow of neon lights, casting eerie shadows as you steel yourselves for the fight. The headquarters stands ominously before you, a fortress of tyranny that has caused so much suffering. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around your gun.

It’s time to end this.

“Follow me. The building is massive,” you say, leading the way into your old workplace. Navigating the familiar lower floors is swift; they’re almost deserted. Jimin dances with his katana, each swing mesmerizing, cutting down any opposition with ease.

Clearing the lower levels quickly, you ascend the stairs, banging open doors and moving through the less familiar upper halls. The men from the New World Order fall easily; many surrender, unwilling to defend a crumbling regime.

Finally, you reach the top floor, the office of your now-dead boss. Stepping inside, you look out through the tall windows overlooking the city.

“What do we do now?” you ask, your voice echoing in the silence.

The horizon flickers with a strange yellow glow.

Jimin, his katana sheathed on his back, joins you. “Is that the sun?” he asks, his eyes following yours.

“I think it is,” Bora says, intertwining her fingers with Yoongi’s.

“Now that the New World Order is gone,” Yoongi muses, “won’t another group try to take its place?”

“Maybe,” you respond, lost in thought.

Jungkook chuckles beside you. “We’ll make sure no one does. All information will be free and accessible.”

“Aren’t we just like the New World Order then?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Jungkook replies firmly. “We’ll let people live freely, with no ‘order’ imposed.”

You all hum in agreement, turning your gaze to the horizon. For the first time in a long while, the oppressive clouds of the Capital part, slowly revealing the sun. The relentless rain stops, and you feel the air shift—this is a new beginning.

→ Taglist: @jeonsbabygirlsworld @11thenightwemet11 @haru-jiminn → Disclaimer: the photo of kitty gang Jimin is a concert photo by a fansite, and I’ve been trying to reverse google search the image to find the fansite/photographer, but without luck. I can see on the original that the fansite name is something along the lines of ‘CelestialYM9999’ but that show on results on google either. If you know the fansite, please let me know so I can credit properly (my photography brain really wants to give proper credit). → Author’s note(2): what do you think? Please let me know! A big shoutout and thank you to @manipulatedstars for having the idea to make Jungkook run a survivalist camp 🥳💜 Now, I can’t wait to write something that isn’t action— back to my sappy romance writing! I think one of the mermaid fics is next on my list ✨

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 6 months ago

Text

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 1

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m planning to write an Azriel x Archeron!half-sister reader series, possibly featuring a slow-burn romance and angst. I don’t know how many parts it’s going to have. It begins in ACOMAF chapter 24.

Summary: The eldest Archeron half-sister Y/n hates Fae kind, due to tragic past events. When she unexpectedly visits her sisters, she is met with the very race she hates.

Word count: 2.11K

Being the eldest sibling is not always easy. Y/n knew this firsthand, shouldering the weight of responsibility for her younger sisters from a young age. After their mother’s death, she made the difficult decision to leave her sisters behind and stay with her supposed biological father. It wasn’t because she didn’t share the same father as her sisters; in fact, he loved her like she was his own and never discriminated between them. For the first two years after their mothers death, she stayed with her family, but when her “father” lost his fortune, she knew leaving was the only option. It wasn’t just about lightening their burden by having one less mouth to feed; she also hoped by seeking out her biological father, she could find work and send money back to her family.

Surprisingly, her father welcomed her with open arms, a kindness that caught her off guard considering he had shown little interest in her when she was younger. Despite her initial skepticism, she didn’t question his motives, fearing he might kick her out. With cleverness and father’s help, she managed to pursue higher education, while working to make ends meet. Though her earnings were modest, she’d send whatever she could spare to her family, ensuring they had enough to survive. With Feyre’s help, there was always food on the table.

Y/n’s life was devoid of fun. Between studying, working, sleeping and occasional visits to her family, she had little time for socializing and friends. This isolation was entirely her choice; she distanced herself from others, earning a reputation as being cold, heartless, selfish, and arrogant to those who didn’t know her well. Yet, beneath this exterior, she harbored a deep love for her sisters and would sacrifice anything for their well-being, despite no longer showing them affection after their mother’s death. They understood her silent expressions of care, recognizing that actions spoke louder than words.

One thing everyone knew for certain is that y/n was stubborn. She held fast to her beliefs and opinions, regardless of external influences. Among her sisters, Netsa was the most like her and the one who admired her the most. The two shared the closest bond before she left, but make no mistake, if anyone Nesta feared and obeyed, it was Y/n, knowing she was not one to be crossed.

After Feyre left the mortal realm, her family’s fortune turned, and she finished her education. Consequently, her visits became less frequent, as she immersed herself into her work.

A smile appeared on y/n’s face at the thought of her sisters’ reactions to seeing her after a long time. She decided to surprise them with a spontaneous visit. Unbeknownst to her, another surprise awaited her inside the place she called home.

“Nesta, Elain, I’m home!” y/n announced as she opened the front door of their home.

“Are we expecting someone else?” Rhys whispered to Feyre.

“Nesta, why didn’t you tell me y/n was coming?” Feyre questioned, panic all over her face.

“I didn’t know. She usually sends word before she comes” Nesta claimed.

The conversation between the two sisters earned them a curious, yet worried look from the three males. Nesta stood from chair, hurrying to the door, but she was too late, y/n was now standing in the dining room, the smile dropping from her face and replaced by a shocked expression at the sight before her.

“What is going on?” y/n asked carefully and slowly.

“These are Feyre’s friends. We were not expecting you today” Elain replied.

“Y/n, it’s been a while. I’m so happy to see you” Feyre stood from her seat and hugged her sister, who was reluctant at first but returned the hug.

“You brought Fae-kind into our home?” it was more of a rhetorical question, but Feyre answered anyway.

“Y/n, this is Cassian” she inclined her head to the male with long hair “Azriel” she pointed to the male who y/n could’ve sworn was the most handsome man she’s even laid eyes on “and Rhysand, high lord of the Night Court” Feyre finished introducing.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” Rhys said with a warm smile.

“I’m sure” y/n sneered, returning her gaze on her sisters “you still haven’t told me what’s going on and why the very same race we despise are now in our living room, dining with us” y/n tried making sense of the situation.

Feyre explained the situation, why they were here, what they needed from the sisters and the threat posed by Hybern.

“So the moment you became fae, you chose to forsake us?” this was all y/n could utter.

“I’d never do that. Me being fae doesn’t change that. It never will. You’ll always be my sister” Feyre assured her.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have brought THEM here. Hatred aside, do you have any idea of the danger you just put Nesta and Elain in?” Y/n turned her hand into a fist, her knuckles as white as they could be, trying to keep her temper in check.

“There was nowhere else to go” Feyre claimed.

“And you were alright with this?” Y/n turned to face her other sisters.

“I wasn’t, but Elain agreed” Nesta informed her.

“Feyre’s right, there-“ Cassian spoke.

“Who are you again?” Y/n glared at him “I’m too tired to deal with this now” she rubbed her temples and said to no one in specific “call me when they’re gone”.

“Uhm, they’re-“ before Nesta could finish the sentence, y/n was already gone “-going to stay for a while” she sighed.

“I take it, this is your eldest sister” Rhys asked.

“I told you she could be intense” Feyre replied.

“That’s one word for it” Cassian expressed and was met with a glare from Nesta.

—-

Thinking they had left, y/n descended the stairs, dressed in her nightgown and robe, seeking out a comforting cup of tea in the quiet atmosphere of midnight. Opening the backdoor leading to their garden, she leaned against the door frame, admiring the stars as she sipped her tea. She took a deep breath appreciating the tranquility and solitude the night provided. She could’ve sworn the shadows moved, but she dismissed it believing it was hallucinations caused by exhaustion from a long trip. Noticing a bright star in the sky, she lifted her cup up and uttered “cheers” a sad smile appearing on her face…

As she was locking the door, she glimpsed a figure in the shadows. This time, unable to dismiss what she saw, she called out “who’s there?”.

At first there was no response but she called out again “I know there’s someone here, so I suggest you come out” she demanded.

Azriel hesitated but complied “I apologize, I did not mean to disturb you”.

“What are you still doing here?” She covered herself with the robe, the gesture did not go unnoticed by Azriel.

“Your gracious sisters allowed us to stay here for a while” he informed her.

“Have they now?” she nodded, clearly displeased by the information she just received “how long are you planning on staying here?”.

“Not long. As soon as the letter is delivered, we’ll be out of your way, I give you my word” he politely said.

“Your word means nothing to me. And if you’re staying at someone’s house, do not sneak up on them” her words as cold as ice.

“I wasn-“ before Azriel could explain, she had left, making his jaw clench in frustration.

The following day, she went downstairs earlier to get some breakfast, but what was early for her, was late for others. Upon entering the kitchen, she found Rhys and Feyre engaged in a conversation with Elain, while Nesta and Cassian bickered over their tea. Azriel was standing in the corner and when he saw her enter, his whole body tensed, and Cassian and Nesta went still

“Good morning” Rhys greeted and was met with silence.

Y/n prepared her breakfast when Feyre approached her “how did you sleep?” Y/n just stared at her sister without saying a word. Once she was done preparing her food, she took it and left without acknowledging anyone’s existence. As Cassian and Nesta resumed their bickering, Azriel finally relaxed, prompting Rhys to speak again “not a good morning, I guess?” He joked.

“Oh believe me, this is a good morning. If you think this was something, then you really don’t want to see her angry” Feyre remarked.

“Is she always like this?” Cassian asked.

“Give her time. She doesn’t like strangers and she most definitely hates Fae-kind” Feyre reminded.

“Yeah, that was clear” Cassian said.

“You’re talking about her like she’s a bad person” Nesta defended.

“Nesta, you know that’s not what I meant” Feyre tried to explain.

“All I’ve seen you do since you got here is criticizing y/n. She’s done nothing wrong” Nesta reminded.

“I’m sorry, but you know how y/n can be”.

“How? All she did was ignore you all, instead of engaging in a pitty argument that would hit your weak spots, and last I’ve known, she does not owe any of you anything. If you’re going to stay in this house, then better respect their owners” Nesta expressed.

“Nesta!” Elain said, clearly displeased with her sister’s tone.

—-

“Can I come in?” Nesta asked permission to enter y/n’s room.

“What is it now?” Y/n opened the door.

“I wanted to spend some time with you”

“Don’t you have guests to entertain?” Y/n crossed her arms.

“Elain and Feyre can deal with them. I’d rather stay here with you”.

“Fiine” y/n rolled her eyes but allowed her sister into her room.

“They already have a bad impression of you” Nesta told her.

“When did I ever care about what people thought of me? Let alone, what male Fae thought of me” y/n chuckled “it bothered you, didn’t it?”.

“Of course it did. I wouldn’t allow anyone to speak badly of you”.

“They’re just words spoken by irrelevant people. When you acknowledge their words, you make them relevant. Remember Nesta, you decide who you give power over you”.

The next day, Feyre, Rhys and Azriel were absent from the kitchen when y/n arrived “oh, for fuck’s sake, how do you two find the energy to fight this early in the morning?” Y/n asked, clearly awoken by the sound of Cassian and Nesta arguing.

“It’s noon” Cassian corrected.

“Whatever. If you’re gonna argue, do it outside. Hearing your voice gives me headaches” y/n uttered.

“And here I thought my voice was soothing” he sarcastically said.

“Don’t. Just don’t!” Cassian’s attempt at humor was met with y/n’s annoyance.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“More like a rough couple of days. Some people clearly don’t know how to be good guests” Y/n started making herself a cup of coffee.

“Well, maybe that’s because some people don’t know how to be polite hosts” he snickered.

“You know what? You’re not worth my time, if you want to argue, you have Nesta. She apparently has the patience for it”.

“Y/n” Nesta called.

“What? You do love arguing” y/n reminded.

“Wow, the two of you in the same house as poor Elain and Feyre, how did they survive?”.

“By knowing when to speak and when to shut up” y/n glared at him, taking her coffee and leaving and he said something.

—-

“What now?” Y/n asked as Feyre called for her sisters “We can leave soon to mail our letter” informing them.

“And this concerns me how?” Y/n asked.

“I-I thought you’d like to go with us”.

“Why would I do that? No, thank you”… “wasn’t there one more of you?” Y/n asked, pretending to just have realized Azriel wasn’t present.

“He had to return early. We had an altercation this morning” Feyre explained.

“Altercation?” Y/n narrowed her eyes,

“It’s nothing”.

“If you’re trying to hide it, then it is something”.

“She was attacked” Rhys claimed.

“What? By whom? And you call THIS nothing?” Y/n started checking her sister for injuries and both males’ eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt”.

“Who attacked you?”.

“It’s rather a what. She was attacked by a creature called the Attor who was sent by the king of Hybern” Rhys informed her “don’t worry, Az is taking care of it”.

To his surprise, she only nodded.

“I changed my mind. I’m coming with you” y/n announced.

“Don’t tell me it’s because I was attacked” Feyre smirked.

“Oh, shut up!” Y/n nudged her with her shoulder.

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seokgyuu · 3 months ago

Text

Strawberry Wine - Part 1

Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this part) MDNI!

Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancé, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.

Warnings (in this part): mentions of cheating, alcohol consumption, angst, probably a not so good description of paris tbh, the word "cock" is mentioned once, slight sexual tension

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: hi everyone!! this is part one of my story for the world tour collab hostes by @svthub!! check out the masterlist here! this one is a bit of a... beginning, i guess, lol. the real drama and smut and all that will be in part two. but i still think this is a a fun part to get to know our characters! this not beta read and i might edit it later... thanks for reading i hope you enjoy <3 header & divider credit to @okiedokrie!

one; the author

The flash of the camera goes off and you’re almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, you’re holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancée cheating two weeks ago.

You’re aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you don’t think you’ll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since you’re both making money, of course. You can’t count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras.

Her books weren’t even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books.

“Hi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I can’t wait for the next one!” It’s a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.

“Thank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?”

The book signing ends about half an hour later. You’re in the car with Minghao who’s typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you.

“You did great, you know.” He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well.

“Thanks,” is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.

“Best friend dearest,” he starts, “you know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you don’t know.”

“It’s my job after all, isn’t it?”

“No, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.”

Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. You’d be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, it’s different.

Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time.

The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. It’s not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you can’t get back up. That all you’re able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole.

It’s hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure you’d spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you.

For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life?

To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her.

It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldn’t handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasn’t like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didn’t have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on ‘booktok’, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months there’d be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with.

Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything.

It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you don’t love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you don’t miss him as much as you used to.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.

“I need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.”

Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what he’s done to you.

Fighting with a french man on the phone at the crack of dawn surely had not been on your agenda for today.

“I’m sorry, miss, but the cancellation period ended two weeks ago, there is nothing we can do.”

It’s too early and you are too tired. He is probably too by now, considering he has been saying this sentence at least five times in the past seven minutes. You pull a hand through your hair and let it drop back onto the mattress after.

“My wedding isn’t happening anymore, and you really won’t let me cancel the honeymoon suite?” Usually, you’d never snap at anyone over the phone - especially custom service personnel, but this is different. What he’s implying means you won’t get any money back from one of the most expensive purchases you’ve made. Worst thing about this: you paid for this yourself. Jaehyun had paid the location - which of course could still be canceled. But the freaking hotel stay in Paris of course was set in stone!

“I am very sorry, miss. I wish there was more that I could do. Perhaps you can take the trip yourself and enjoy our beautiful honeymoon sui-“

You hang up on him. It’s not polite, you’re aware. But just the thought of being alone in the suite you were supposed to enjoy with your freshly baked husband… no, absolutely not. Then, fine, you’d have to live with having spent thousands of dollars on a hotel suite you wouldn’t be able to use.

As if life isn’t horrible enough already.

When you sit at brunch later that day with Minghao and your mutual friend Mingyu, they both stare at you like you’ve just told them you decided to get Jaehyun’s face tattooed on your thigh.

“Are you kidding me? You basically get to have a Paris vacation for free for yourself!” Mingyu says, the glass of mimosa he is holding in his hand is almost spilling with the way he moves his arm. You scoff.

“What do you mean “free”? I literally paid for it months ago!”

“Okay, and did you already make that money back?” Mingyu continues and raises his brow. You stay silent for a moment.

The restaurant Minghao chose is filled with people enjoying the vegan food made from scratch. Your own very delicious avocado toast with a side of fresh fruit and soy-yogurt is laying in front of you, waiting to be eaten. The mimosa Minghao had ordered for you remains untouched.

“She has.” Hao decides to answer for you as he sips from his mug of matcha. You shoot him a glare.

“So what! I’m not going to go to Paris by myself when this was supposed to be my honeymoon!” You try to stay quiet, looking from Minghao to Mingyu and back. Judging by their faces, they don’t seem to understand the big deal.

You envy them. God, how much you wish you could just do it. Go on that already paid for vacation by yourself, not give a single damn about Jaehyun and his new girlfriend. Your heart sinks. Just thinking these words is making you feel like crawling back into bed.

Minghao groans and puts his mug back on the table.

“Y/N,” he starts and his voice sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard him talk before - even Mingyu seems startled, “I get it, okay? I get that he hurt you, that he made you believe in something that was never going to work. He is an asshole, if not the biggest asshole walking freely on this earth. But you’re young! You’re young and you deserve better than this! Keeping to yourself, barely leaving your apartment - your bed, honey, it’s not good for you. I understand that you want to stay away, that the world is a fucking scary place without the person you thought was your person right there next to you,” he grabs your hand over the table, “but do you know what all of this means? That your person is still out there! That you can still find them! And what better place to start than Paris, the literal city of love!”

He means well. Just like the other night after the book signing. He means well and he wants just what’s best for you. No one wants you to feel better as much as he does. Then why does it make you so mad that he is asking this of you? That he is calling you out this way?

You pull your hand away from his and grab your purse from the free chair next to yours. Both men gawk at you, startled.

“Y/N-,” Mingyu tries, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.

“You get it, Hao? Really? Has your significant other of five years also cheated on you with your biggest rival? Did you also have to cancel a wedding you put hours and hours of work and money into? Because I don’t remember this happening to you! So, I would really appreciate it if you gave me the time I need to grieve this relationship and decide for myself when I am ready to get out again!”

Without giving them another look, you storm out of the restaurant. Everything around you is a blurr and you only notice that you’re crying when you reach your car. Cursing to yourself, you move to open your car, tears dripping from your cheeks down onto your shirt. God, what a pathetic little woman. Crying in your car after yelling at your best friends for what? For caring? For only meaning to help?

It takes a while before you manage to start the engine and get on the road to drive home. The radio is silent and for a second you wished you could turn off your brain the same way. Just one switch and all thoughts gone. All the self doubts and the hurt, all the thoughts of what-if and the wish to travel back in time and never have you take his iPad.

You stop at a red light and wipe away some more tears. You don’t dare to look into the mirror and check your make-up.

Never finding the iPad, you circle back, if you had never found it, you wouldn’t be in this situation. No, you’d most likely still be in a relationship with a man that cheated on you. That didn’t love you half as much as he claimed, that didn’t deserve the time and care you’d given him.

When the light turns green, you continue your way, your thoughts still roaming around the what if. And while your heart yearns for him back, for what you believed you had - your head knows it’s better this way. Jaehyun isn’t the one for you, as much as you would have loved him to be, Minghao is right. It’s just that the thought of starting over with someone new makes you cringe, makes fear rise within you. Someone new to give your heart to and hope they don’t break it the way Jae had.

Once you’re on the highway you think back about the time you had decided to travel to Paris for your honeymoon. It had been your idea, your wish. Your first ever book, even if it never made it onto a bestseller list or into the mouths of the best romance critics - it was set in Paris. The city of live, the city you decided would become your favorite even though you had never been. Spending two weeks there with the love of your life after becoming his forever, seriously, nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that.

Minghao’s words ring in your ear. Your person is still out there, he said. And that Paris, as the city of love, would be the perfect place to go look for them. Your knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. You never wanted to spend time in Paris with anyone but Jaehyun.

Or maybe, you think as you take the exit leading to your neighborhood, the only Person you need to spend time with in Paris is yourself.

two; the lost soul

He never should have listened to Jeonghan. No one should ever listen to Jeonghan. The cab driver is speaking in quick french that Jihoon knows he wouldn’t understand even if he spelled out every word for him. Then again, he isn’t even sure the driver is talking to him or just about him. Jihoon can’t really blame him. After all, he is the stupid American with the stupid big guitar case and a backpack almost bigger than himself.

The backseat is hot and Jihoon’s sunglasses do little to keep the sun from blinding him.

Paris in the summer sounded better on paper than it does actually experiencing it. It’s nothing compared to the summer in Arizona, where Jihoon grew up, but having lived in Vermont for a while now, he wasn’t used to the burning hot, scorching sun that threatened to give him the sunburn of his life if he didn’t re-apply his sunscreen every few hours.

Tara had always laughed at him and his easily burned skin. She never burned, no, she got a tan right away, looking beautiful in the rays of sunshine dazzling on her skin like they belonged there.

Right now, he misses her more than he has in a while. When he passes the beautiful architecture of his first love’s favorite city, he smiles even with the sun shining directly into his eyes.

In all seriousness, Jihoon doesn’t know why he is here. It feels wrong to be here without her, but it also felt like he had to take the invitation from his friend. She would have never forgiven him, if he let this opportunity fly. Visit the city of love, the city she had always dreamt about, he knows as wrong as it feels, it’s the right thing to do.

A few minutes later, the cab stops in front of an old looking building. Without saying anything, the driver takes Jihoon’s Euros and drives off after heaving Jihoon’s suitcase out of his trunk.

Jihoon looks after the car, his dark hair falling into his forehead. Once the cab takes the next corner, he looks at the building, something stirring in his stomach. This… doesn’t look like the pictures on AirBnb at all. Quickly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, happy he booked the data package at the airport back home. Opening his app, he feels like he’s about to throw up his airplane food.

It’s not there. The apartment is gone from the app, not newly put in under a different name, not just gone because of a glitch. It’s like it never existed. Jihoon curses, moving his fingers over his screen, calling the customer service only to be met with a french speaking automatic voice that doesn’t help him in the slightest.

Hanging up again, he stares at his phone for a few seconds. He shouldn’t have come. It feels too much like a sign. Maybe he should try changing his flight to this evening, maybe he should try to run after that cab and-

The phone in his hands rings and he quickly picks up.

“Hello?”

“Jihoonie!” It’s Jeonghan, the only reason he is in Paris in the first place, “did you make it to the city of love?”

“Yeah, and I wish I didn’t,” Jihoon mumbles in response, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Why? What happened?” Jeonghan does sound concerned, which might be a first.

“My Airbnb doesn’t exist.”

Silence. Jihoon just knows his friend is trying his hardest not to laugh. Oh, to be Yoon Jeonghann and always get entertained by his friends’ miseries.

“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny, okay? I’m about to call another cab and get my ass back home.”

“No! No, you can’t go home! You’re here and I’m going to make sure these will be two of the most amazing weeks of your life, alright? Look, instead of home, get your ass to my hotel. I think I might have a solution for your problem.”

When Jeonghan texts him the address and Jihoon hails another cab, he doesn’t dare to hope that his friend has an actual solution.

Perhaps Jihoon should have asked Jeonghan more thoroughly what kind of Hotel he works at. Because this looks very different to the building Jihoon just left. This is art, this is a fancy hotel in the middle of Paris’ most elegant streets, people in expensive clothes walking around Jihoon who has only a backpack and a guitar on his back. Jihoon gapes at the building, words he has read a million times suddenly filling his head, suddenly coming to life.

The façade of the hotel stands proudly on the bustling Parisian street, an exquisite testament to classical elegance and modern charm. The building’s cream-colored stonework is adorned with intricate carvings and ornate embellishments, each detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Above the entrance, a grand arch frames a large window, its glass shimmering in the soft light of the early evening.

Striped blue-and-white awnings shade the windows, their cheerful colors contrasting beautifully with the building’s stately architecture. Delicate wrought-iron balconies extend from the upper floors, offering glimpses of lush potted plants and inviting chairs, perfect for an intimate evening under the stars.

The entrance is framed by deep blue columns, and a passageway, warm light spills out from within, hinting at the luxurious interior that awaits guests. A pair of elegant lanterns flank the doorway, casting a gentle glow on the stone steps below.

Above the entrance, a crest adorned with elaborate scrollwork and a regal shield stands as a proud emblem of the hotel’s storied history. The name of the hotel is etched in graceful letters, a promise of the enchanting experience that lies within.

He doesn’t dare to move from where he is standing. Doesn’t dare to step foot into the hotel that looks exactly the way he had envisioned the one Tara would always read to him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin and he swears there are tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. This must be a dream, a different reality, because there is no way Jeonghan works here.

But when Jihoon lets his eyes wander over the façade and into one of the magnificent windows - he spots his friend. Spots him on the phone behind the wooden counter, writing something down. He is here and this is real.

So, Jihoon slowly moves. One foot before the other, eyes glued to the entrance, nis heart beating in his chest. He feels silly, but he wonders if Tara had seen this as clear as he had back when she had read the book to him over and over again.

A welcome warmth meets Jihoon inside. It’s just as beautiful as the outside, he finds, his stomach turning over once more.

The lobby exudes a warm, inviting glow, courtesy of the golden chandeliers that hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft light over the polished marble floors. Rich hues of deep blue and soft gold dominate the color palette, creating a sense of opulence and sophistication. Jeonghan stands behind the mahogany desk, still talking on the phone, still not spotting Jihoon.

Jihoon, who feels so insanely out of place in his worn out jeans and the old leather jacket, with his hair unkempt and his eyebrow pierced. He moves over to the front desk, trying his hardest not to care about the stares he is getting from the people who clearly know he doesn’t actually belong here.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up when he sees him, a wide smile now on his lips as he holds up a finger as if to tell Jihoon to just be a little more patient. Jihoon carefully puts his hands on the top of the counter, his eyes roaming the lobby again.

“Of course, we can’t wait to have you back here again so soon, Miss Jones. Have a great day, bye bye!”

Jihoon’s eyes fly over to Jeonghan again when he hears the phone click.

“You’re actually here!” Jeonghan’s smile grows and he moves forward to give Jihoon probably the most awkward hug of his life over the counter. Jihoon laughs at that, patting his friend on the back.

“Well, it’s either this or the streets,” he smiles, “you never told me how… grant all of this is.” He gestures with his hands, as if to make sure Jeonghan knows he means the hotel. His blonde haired friend chuckles.

“Yeah, I thought it would come off like bragging if I did say so. I never would have heard the end of it from the boys.”

Jihoon nods. He knows exactly what Jeonghan means. Still. He can’t shake the feeling that if he had known about this… his stomach drops again.

“It’s beautiful.” Is all he eventually says, ignoring the worried look of his friend. Jihoon doesn’t know (and Jeonghan will never tell him) but there was a reason he had never mentioned this to him.

“That, it is,” Jeonghan finally responds, wiping the worry off his face and replacing it with a broad smile, “and you will get to live here for the next two weeks!”

“I will what?!” Jihoon’s eyes widen in surprise, “Jeonghan, I can barely pay rent at home, what do you-,”

“Obviously for free, dummy,” Jeonghan chuckles, “we have a free suite that has already been paid for, full price.”

Jihoon raises his brows, his hands feeling damp on top of the fancy counter.

“How come it’s free when it’s fully paid?” He asks.

“Well, there was supposed to be a wedding and…. now there isn’t one. They didn’t meet the requirements for the full or the partial refund. So, it’s free for the next two weeks since we can’t legally double book. You want it?”

It feels a little bit too good to be true, but Jihoon is in no place to turn down Jeonghan’s offer. The little voice in his head is trying to get to him, trying to make him speak the words to himself. It tries to get him to admit that this feels a lot like fate. Like a sign from above, from Tara. He doesn’t let it get to him. He’s not ready for that, and he’s certainly not melancholic enough for thoughts like this - even as a songwriter.

“I do, thank you, Han, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

“Oh, most certainly sleep on the streets. Find a rat for a friend, or maybe a pigeon. They are crazy over here,” Jeonghan sings as he types something in the computer, scanning one of the key cards he takes from the drawer beneath him. Jihoon watches him with his heartbeat in his ears.

“Yeah, never been a big fan of rats. Or pigeons.” Jihoon dares to look around the lobby again, seeing all those people living their life, probably never worried about any of the things he worries about. He wasn’t lying when he said he has trouble paying his rent. Work hasn’t been easy these days.

“Aaaaand, here we go!” Jeonghan grins brightly, “your key, Mr. Lee.” He holds it mid air, pulling it back slightly as Jihoon is trying to grab it. The latter gives him a funny look. Jeonghan pouts as he thinks.

“That rhymes. “Your key, Mr. Lee”.” Jihoon closes his eyes for a second. Jeonghan chuckles happily.

“Watch out, I’m coming for your job.”

“Well, stop it and do yours instead,” Jihoon replies, allowing himself to grin back at his friend and take the card from his hands, “where is this suite you promised me?”

Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned what kind of suite this is. There is nothing Jihoon can do but stare at his surroundings with his mouth and backpack dropped, his guitar slowly sliding down his arm.

He is in the honeymoon suite. In retrospect, it makes sense. Jeonghan did say a wedding had been canceled.

There are three rooms. Right now, Jihoon is standing in the enormous entrance way. Golden and blue like downstairs, with wood accents, a big round table in the center of the room that connected all the different rooms, a centerpiece of flowers as beautiful as a summer day adjoining it. The walls are high and plastered with fine drawing, ornating through all of the hallway and over to the other rooms. Flowers and patterns so elegant Jihoon doesn’t know how to even describe them.

He feels out of place as much as he feels content. Letting his luggage rest on the floor, he moves into the first room. It’s a large sitting room, probably as big as his whole apartment back at home. Two couches of rich dark blue; cushions in different colors, some of them reminding Jihoon of the ocean, some of the sky, rich blues and light blues, and then there is the color of dawn, orange and yellow.

A majestic cremé colored carpet lays beneath the sofas, a glass table standing between them. On top of it magazine stacks and a glass tray holding what looks like whiskey and two glasses. High windows let the sun shine through and Jihoon spots a balcony leading around the living- and bedroom, holding his breath as he imagines himself out there softly strumming his guitar with a glass of whiskey or wine. His heart warms at the thought of finally having peace. Peace in the city his former lover had loved so much.

Next up he walks into the bedroom, a king sized bed greets him with white linen covers and pillows almost as big as his torso. It looks incredibly comfortable and he couldn’t wait to lay down and relax after the day he’s had. Golden curtains sway in the wind let in by an opened window, and the view is so poetic he almost feels himself tear up. Quickly, he looks away and instead finds his way into the master bathroom. It’s all held in gold as well, gold and white for a change, an enormous tub next to a high rain shower behind a glass wall. He sighs.

This is perfect. And he most definitely needs a shower right now.

So, he retraces his steps and grabs his luggage, setting everything down next to the bed and letting his guitar rest in the corner of the room. He decides to actually unpack his backpack that probably doesn’t even hold as much clothes as he probably needs for this trip (he did think he had a washer, though) and places everything in the large closet opposite the bed.

Finding himself humming, Jihoon allows a little bit more of that earlier peace to find place in his head and heart. Perhaps there is no reason for him to be worried - to look for something to go terribly wrong on this trip. Jeonghan is off work by now, and they’ll go catch dinner together, then he’ll come back here and maybe watch a movie, fall asleep to the sound of Paris outside his window. He doesn’t know what it sounds like just yet, but he’s already excited to find out.

Ridding himself of his clothes and feeling another threat of tears when he touches the towels hanging in the bathroom, Jihoon finally lets himself step into the shower and wash all of his worries away.

three; the mix-up

You don’t think your heart has ever beaten as fast as it does when you walk out the Charles de Gaulle airport and right into the arms of the driver Minghao has arranged for you. It’s not about the driver or the airport - but where you are.

Paris, the city of love, the city you feared to visit after what had happened with Jae. Yet, here you stand. Handing the driver your luggage and fishing for your phone in your purse, texting Minghao you already found your driver and are now on the way to the hotel. It all feels surreal and like you’re going to wake up any second.

Minghao forgave you without hesitation. Hugged you close to his chest and cried with you as you told him you were sorry and that he was right. You needed to do this - needed to face your demons. Together, the two of you had finalized the plans, popping open a bottle of expensive champagne and gossiping about Jaehyun and who he left you for. Little by little, you knew, you would find yourself again. And perhaps Paris was the perfect way to start.

The drive from the airport to the hotel was spent staring out the window. First you saw the highway leading from the airport to the city - greenery with trees on each side, all passing by you in a blurr. And then the beautiful streets of Paris. The fine architecture, the elegant bridges over the Seine. Heart warming at the sight of the city you dreamt about so much. Your first ever book had taken place right here, you had let your main characters kiss for the first time right there on that bridge leading from one side of Paris to the other, so close to the Louvre, to the glass pyramid you made them fight and make up all the same, just months apart. The sun is dazzling onto the dark water of the river, light dancing on the surface.

The driver comes to a stop in front of the hotel about 45 minutes after your departure from Charles de Gaulle. He holds open the door for you and helps you out of the car, smiling at you warmly and finally getting your bags out of the trunk. You thank him in some broken French and he nods at you before finding his way back to the driver’s seat.

One of the bell-boys spot you right when you walk in, their English sounding a bit like your French just now. You thank them and hand over your luggage, letting them help you carry it to the mahogany reception.

It is exactly like you remember it. You had never seen it in person, no. But you’ve found this hotel during your research, falling in love with it right away. It was a no-brainer that your honeymoon was to be held here.

You felt overwhelmed at the sight of the colors you had tried so hard to bring to paper, at the sound of soft music in the background, at the knowledge this was real and you were gonna stay here for two whole weeks.

Finally, you reach the counter where a small man stands and smiles up at you, his hair styled back.

“Welcome, how can I help you?” He says in perfect English and you place your hands on top of the counter.

“Hi,” you tell him your name, “I have a reservation.”

The man nods, looking up the reservation and finding it right away. Not marked as checked in, he notes and gives you another big smile.

“It is wonderful to have you, Miss. Will your husband be joining you?”

You expected as much. While it does hurt a little, having to say these next words, you know it’s a step in the right direction.

“I will be staying here alone, thank you.”

It is more beautiful than you could have imagined and it takes you a whole lot not to start crying. Your luggage gets brought up by the nice bell-boys and you thank them by tipping them each 50 Euros. Their smiles make the loss of the money worthwhile.

Once the door closes behind them, you dare to look around. See the beautiful entrance way in all its glory. See the living room in all it’s elegance, the high ceiling and windows, the smaller bedroom with a queen sized bed and a little reading nook, two ceiling high bookshelves standing around a comfortable looking loveseat. This must be what heaven looks like.

There is nothing that can wipe that smile off your face. Everything inside you tingles with happy excitement, moving to go look at the master bedroom with the on-suite bathroom you remembered staring at for at least five minutes when you booked the room. Imagining yourself in the enormous bathtub with a glass of champagne and classical music playing, letting all the stress and hurt from the past months fade away with the notes.

You don’t notice the closet and how there are clothes hanging inside it. Neither do you see the guitar case in the corner of the room. It fascinates you - how your mind tricks you into thinking you already hear the sound of water running, accompanied by humming along to a tune. Magnificent, what the mind can do.

When you finally reach for the doorknob to push it down, yanking the door open in one swift move, you realize perhaps your mind isn’t as magnificent as you thought.

Jihoon doesn’t notice you until you scream. He swirls around, which is inherently a foolish thing to do inside a wet, slippery shower, his eyes widening whe spots you, reacting to your scream by screaming himself. He realizes he’s naked and tries to find something to cover him, taking a step forward to reach for the towel and forgetting there is literally a glass wall separating you two.

Watching the man walk face-first into the glass and stumbling back, slipping on the wet floors and falling onto his ass would have made you laugh if it wasn’t inside your shower.

“What the hell!” You yell, turning around so you don’t look at the naked man any longer.

“Who are you?!” He yells back and you almost gasp.

“I should ask you that!”

The two of you need to yell because Jihoon has not yet managed to turn the shower off. Only now does he (while rubbing his hurting back) get up, struggling in the process, his hand finding the lever to turn off the water. His nose hurts and his ass and his back.

He moves out of the shower without running into glass this time, and wraps one of the soft towels around his waist.

“I’m Jihoon,” he finally says. You think you’re suddenly stuck in a really bad movie.

“That- you’re telling me your name?!” You turn around again, staring at the stranger with disbelief in your eyes.

“You did ask who I was, didn’t you?”

For a few moments the two of you continue to stare at each other. With every passing second you notice just how naked he is. Yes, there is a towel around him now, but you certainly did not… miss what was under there when you first walked in. As much as you don’t want to, your eyes scan the stranger, or well, Jihoon as he told you, stopping at his wet torso, the defined abs and the broad chest. He might be small in height but the rest of him seems… big.

You swallow.

“If you’re done checking me out, would you mind telling me why you’re in my room?”

Heat spreads through your body and right into your face, your eyes jumping from his torso to his face.

“Your room? I’m sorry, this is my room!”

While Jihoon did hit his head, he isn’t hurt enough not to understand that you’re most likely telling the truth. But Jeonghan had said the wedding was off… that you wouldn’t come here. So, why on earth, where you here?

“I- I can explain,” he begins, taking a step forward only for you to take a step backward. He holds out his hand as if to signal he wasn’t going to do anything.

“Go right ahead,” you hate that your voice is shaking, but it’s not like it is an everyday occurrence you find a beautiful stranger in your hotel room. If this wasn’t your actual life but a book this might have been sexy, might have led to the bed behind you finding the two strangers entangled, giving in to the sexual tension between them. Not that there was any of that in this situation.

“My friend, Jeonghan, he- he works here. He told me this suite wouldn’t be used and so I- well he asked me if I wanted to stay here for my trip after I told him my airbnb didn’t actually exist and I needed a, uh, a place to stay.”

You blink at him.

“He just- he gave you my honeymoon suite for free?

Jihoon swallows.

“Well…,” he thinks a little longer on his answer, “yes. Yes, he did.”

Telling the truth is probably his best bet.

You take a deep breath, turning away from him, clenching and unclenching your hands.

“As you can see, I am here. So, please, find somewhere else to stay.”

Jihoon saw it coming, obviously. It was all too good to be true. Without saying anything else, he walks over to the closet, ready to dress himself. Just that he didn’t quite calculate the new luggage now laying in front of the bed.

It all seems to happen in slow motion.

Jihoon tripping over your suitcase, his hands desperate trying to find something to hold on to before he falls. As if on reflex, you grab his arm, yanking him up so he doesn’t fall flatly on his face, just that you somehow manage to yank him so hard, you fall off balance. With a high pitched squeak, you fall onto the bed, Jihoon landing on top of you, his towel falling off in the process of the fall and save.

A naked man is on top of you, brown eyes wide with shock staring into yours. His hands somehow moved right to the sides of your head as if to catch himself from falling even further on top of you.

You can feel him. Feel his breath on your face, his skin on yours, his friend against your thigh. More heat rises, your face, your neck, your chest, your core. It’s bad. This shouldn’t be happening right now.

The two of you are so engulfed in the moment, you don’t even realize when the door opens yet again. When voices you would normally recognize without trouble seem to fail your ears this time. Jihoon’s face so close to yours - way too distracting.

“What the fuck?!”

Realization hits you at the same time as recognition and you gasp, your knee coming up, right into Jihoon’s lower parts, a yelp escaping him as he slides off the bed, hands now covering his private area and his face in a grimace of sheer pain.

You don’t even notice it. Not really, at least. Now it’s not his face that’s distracting you but the one you used to love for so many years.

“Jaehyun?” You whisper. And for a second you think he came here to make amends, to win you back, to get on his knees and apologize - then you spot her walking in, her eyes scanning the room with distaste.

“Who is that?” Jaehyun asks and you feel your blood boil.

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his question. He isn’t looking at you, but at Jihoon still on the floor.

“Oh, well, you know. We thought that it would be such a waste to let this suite go to waste,” it is her who answers you now, her deep red manicured hands now curling around Jaehyun’s biceps.

This bitch. Your blood starts boiling. Anger makes you see red.

“You brought her here?” You hiss at Jaehyun who has the decency to look guilty at least. You snort. Then, your eyes find Jihoon who’s still on the ground, Jihoon who is still naked. Jihoon, who desperately needs a place to stay.

God knows what makes you do what you do next. Desperation? Foolery? Who knows. But you move to help Jihoon up, grabbing the towel and holding it in front of his lower half.

“Y/N,” Jaehyun starts but you interrupt him.

“I see that we both had the idea to bring our new partners, or in your case old partner, to the suite we booked together, Jae. But since I was the one who paid for it, I would kindly ask you to leave.”

New partner. Jihoon needs a few seconds before he grasps what you just said.

“New- new what?” He mumbles, but you clear your throat to drown out his voice. Jaehyun’s face is priceless and you don’t want the bluff to be uncovered so quickly.

“That is your new boyfriend?” She asks, her brows raised. You can see that she’s checking him out - his abs, his cest, his pretty face. It makes your insides turn with hatred and disgust.

“Got a problem, Sierra?” You reply, your jaw tense. Her eyes only briefly meet yours.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m glad to see you finally got out of that moping phase, honey. It really didn’t suit you.”

Your grip around the towel tightens.

Slowly, Jihoon begins to understand what is going on. Who these people are. There was supposed to be a wedding and a honeymoon, but neither of these happened. You are the bride, or well, were supposed to be the bride. And he, the man you called Jaehyun and who had caused all the color to fade from your face, surely seems to be the groom who… never got to be the groom. And judging by the way you reacted to him and her, he guesses the reason the wedding didn’t happen was… the woman you’d called Sierra.

Blinking a few times, Jihoon realized that you were trying to convince him that he was your new boyfriend. That you had brought him here, to this hotel. It was ridiculous and straight out of a bad movie, but somehow… even if he didn’t know you, he felt like he should help you. And so, he let his arm wrap around your waist, catching you by surprise.

“I would kindly ask you to leave us be. You have done enough.”

Your head swirled to look at the man next to you. His stern face and his wet hair. Drops of water sliding down the side of his neck.

“How long has this been going on?” Jaehyun asks, ignoring Jihoon’s request. You turn to look at him again.

“That’s none of your business. You heard him, Jae. Leave. This isn’t your room anymore.”

Another beat of silence falls between the four of you. You try your best to ignore Sierra and cling onto Jihoon’s hand like it was the only saving grace. Perhaps that was true. Holding Jae’s gaze and trying to calm down your hurting heart, your wishes to throw something at him.

“Fine. I heard the honeymoon suite in the Hilton is much nicer than this one, baby.”

It is then that you see it. The rings on her finger. Your stomach drops. He married her. Oh, you’re about to throw up. Jihoon seems to notice your change of emotions, quickly clearing his throat.

“Great. Have fun in Paris then.”

He carefully takes the towel from your hand, wrapping it around him fully again. Then, he looks at you. The overwhelming urge to give you a hug is almost unbearable.

“Maybe,” Jaehyun said, “since we are both seeing other people and have moved on - we could grab dinner sometime this week. All of us.”

Jihoon sees the way your eyes shake at the suggestion. And he is just about to say no, that that’s not a good idea, when you push your shoulder back and hold your head high.

“What a lovely idea. We’d love to, isn’t that right, baby?” You interlock your fingers with Jihoon’s and he stares at you for just a second, before nodding.

“Sure,” he breathes out, looking at Jaehyun and Sierra.

It most certainly isn’t a lovely idea, he is well aware of that. This whole thing isn’t a good idea. But here he is. Holding the hand of a woman he barely met twenty minutes ago. A woman who has seen him naked, a woman who had his half hard cock against the inside of her thigh. A woman he had been closer to than any other in the last five years.

No, this wasn’t a good idea. This was an awful, horrible idea that could only go so, so wrong.

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alittlelessalone · 1 year ago

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Fun Scum Villain fic concept:

So Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are sent back to their original world temporarily due to system shenanigans and need to wait x number of days until they can go back. They wake up at the times of their deaths and get to use this time to do some final things in the world before returning back.

So Shen Yuan of course wants to spend the time with his family and getting to see them again and say goodbye in a less depressing way. But Shang Qinghua doesn’t have that and he’s just finished PIDW.

Shen Yuan makes sure he has enough money to get him through the timeframe (after learning about Shang Qinghua’s financial situation), so he doesn’t need to work to keep himself alive, so he decides he wants to write something a little more heartfelt as a sort of last hurrah.

He decides in honor of the two lives he and Shen Yuan stole, he’s going to share the backstory of Shen Jiu and write a story about Shang Qinghua.

Shen Jiu comes first and it’s mainly just a tale about him and Yue Qingyuan using his unposted backstory, but in the end he decides to make some minor changes so it’s not as depressing. Namely, that when they died, their souls were both sucked into Xuan Su. The pair ended up trapped there, but they were trapped there together in a world that couldn’t hurt them anymore and allowed them to finally be together.

It’s a poignant and bittersweet story that doesn’t excuse Shen Jiu’s behavior, but it does a lot to explain it and expand his character. And while it of course has its detractors, people generally like it and Peerless Cucumber is there in the comments singing its praises for all to see (and there in Shang Qinghua’s apartment smacking him over the head with a rolled up magazine and scolding him for being by such a good writer and selling out on PIDW).

The Original Shang Qinghua story doesn’t really have any old notes to go off. He was never meant to be a fleshed out character and was always just a plot device villain. But Shang Qinghua feels bad for PIDW’s Mobei-Jun, so he decides to write something for his sake too.

In this story, it’s revealed that Mobei-Jun didn’t actually kill the Original Shang Qinghua, but instead worked with him to fake his death after Lou Binghe ordered him dead. Shang Qinghua reveals that the pair were actually lovers and maintained their secret relationship over the years and that was why Mobei-Jun never seemed interested in romance.

And most readers are like wtf except for the bl fans who love it. And even Peerless Cucumber is a little more hesitant to praise it since it sort of came out of nowhere, but he can admit that it’s clever and well written. And Shen Yuan can tease Shang Qinghua relentlessly for it, even if he also approves and finds it very sweet.

Depending on how much more time they’re stuck there, maybe the pair can also write one more story, giving the original Lou Binghe a happier ending too.

Eventually, it’s time for them to go back. Shen Yuan says goodbye to has family and Shang Qinghua says goodbye to PIDW and hopes that his changes and additions can bring people some peace, even if it’s probably too late for those who need them most.

Shen Yuan realizes that Shang Qinghua was trying to alter the canon in hidden ways so that the system could silently incorporate them into the world without breaking anything. He figures it’s mainly for Bing-ge’s universe that’s still more or less PIDW, but being the mega-fan that he is, he decides to put a theory to the test.

It takes a lot less time with the help of the sect, but he manages to grow another plant body like his own. And then with Yue Qingyuan’s permission, he uses some of Shang Qinghua’s new hand-wavy canon to reach out to Xuan Su. And the next thing he knows, Shen Jiu is waking back up in the plant body after years trapped inside the sword.

And of course there’s a lot of questions and Binghe tears, but Yue Qingyuan gets his Xiao Jiu back and Shang Qinghua realizes that his changes must have taken in the other universe too, now meaning there’s less suffering there as well. He gets to curl back up in his king’s arms that night and rest assured that no matter what universe he’s in, both his king and that universe’s Shang Qinghua are well and truly loved.

#moshang #qijiu #shang qinghua #svsss #original shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #mobei jun #Shang Qinghua really said “if I’m technically god why not use my god powers #he and cucumber are probably better friends now #and he probably has a better relationship with writing now too #the system can’t prove this DIDN’T happen #and now it’s canon so oops! have to follow the rules!#Shen Jiu overheard Yue Qingyuan while in the sword #he has feelings about what his idiotic Qi-ge has said and done but os willing to forgive him now #poor Liu Qingge is probably having a hell of a time during everything but he’ll be fine #maybe he’ll even get a few more friends once everyone starts to adjust!

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imfoive · 1 month ago

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The Youngest Son - Chapter 10 | END

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: tw-descriptions of car accident, mentions of blood, cursing, attempted m*urder, implied death, somewhat proofread WC: 6.8k A/N: I literally can't believe this series has finally come to an end. I had such fun creating this word, the characters and the story. I truly hope everyone who read this, enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

CHAPTER 10 ───────────────────

The youngest son had never known what a life of normalcy would look like. Not having to double, triple-think about what to say, what to do. Not having to distinguish what those expression on the faces of his so-called family members meant, were not things Minho had ever thought about.

The youngest son had always lived with his eyes peeled open. His gaze sharp, his actions calculated.

His heart, guarded.

The chairman’s lessons were engraved in his mind. Love has no place in business. Love was distracting, it hinders one’s ability to think with a sound mind, unbiased. A conniving businessman didn’t need those useless emotions.

The youngest son didn’t know what love was, he had never cared to find out. Yet he found himself already drowning in it even before he could realize.

Lee Minho had started to dream of normalcy.

The night he kissed Y/N the first time.

Perhaps even back when he drank that salt-laced water.

The loud bass of the music, bounced off his ear drums, vibrating the very ground he stood on. The vibrant colors, bright against the dark of the club.

His eyes scanned for just a few moments before he was drawn to her figure. Like a moth to a flame, hypnotized by her. He stood rooted to his spot, unable to look away, no matter how much his mind told him to leave. He was stuck.

Like an insect in a spider web. One she had intricately woven around him as she broke down his walls.

And deep down he knew he had no intentions of trying to break free.

The birthday girl swayed to the music, eyes shut, serene almost in the chaos of the club around her.

He inhaled sharply.

Minho didn’t plan on showing up. God, he should have just turned off the light and went to sleep that night. Yet when he had caught a glimpse of Y/N in that photo, uploaded by some other person amongst her group of friends, his breath hitched. Eyes scanned over her. Her smile, her figure, her dress.

He found himself moving on his own.

He found himself at the club, trailing behind her as she staggered her way off the dance floor, eyes searching for friends who she failed to recognize amongst the crowd in her drunken haze. Her words were jumbled, yet fingers easily clawed at whatever shot of alcohol was handed to her.

Minho’s body moved on it’s own.

The alcohol burned down his throat. A silent hiss escaped his lips as he slammed the glass down. Staring at her big eyes that glared at him.

Some accusatory words were exchanged, he couldn’t even recall it anymore, his mind had been fixated on the fact that her lips had engulfed his ones. On the kiss, the hot and wet kiss, that had sent alarms ringing through his head.

He should have never held her. Should’ve never allowed his fingers to cup her jaw, returning the kiss almost instantly, desperately.

He shouldn’t have allowed her to tie him in her web. Shouldn’t have loved her.

Minho shouldn’t have dreamt of normalcy.

───────────────────────

There was a chill in the air, the night enveloping the chaos that had occurred in its darkness.

Minho’s car a few feet away, slammed against the guardrail.

The larger, white car that had hit it stood alone in it’s own scrappy mess.

Lee Joohyeon’s senses were reeling as he gasped against the deflated airbag, the suffocating smell of smoke and the taste of his own blood made him groan. Made him nauseous, his head spinning.

His glasses lens was shattered, the frame digging uncomfortably into his temple. His neck throbbed painfully, and every movement sent sharp reminders of the impact coursing through his body. A constant hissing noise hitting his ears.

Slowly, he peeled himself away from the airbag, his hands trembling from pain, and aftershock as he gripped the wheel.

Reality crashed down on him with brutal force almost instantly.

He had caused this.

The realization made his stomach churn, his breath hitch. Joohyeon leaned back into the seat, staring through the wrecked windshield, shards of glass casting shattered patterns across his view.

The chaos around him was surreal, aftermath of his violent collision. His car was a twisted mess, the front of it crumpled and the engine smoking.

He was lucky to even be alive. Lucky to have seemingly minimal injuries.

But even before he could take a sigh of relief, he stared mortified at the other car.

The sight of Minho’s car.

The younger brother’s totaled vehicle, sent a fresh wave of horror through him.

Joohyeon’s eyes traced the damage, a new fear tightening in his chest. He had struck Minho’s car with almost full force, driven by a storm of emotions that had instantly disappeared as he looked at this scene.

Was it truly worth it?

The words of his grandfather, Park Hyunmin, echoed in his head. Their words of dismissal, of being deemed unworthy compared to his favored brother, Minho.

Lee Minho was capable.

Lee Minho was worthy.

Lee Minho deserved to become the next leader.

They had called him useless, not worth their time, while Minho basked in their praise and expectations. Raising in ranks, falling in love.

Being happy.

Anger had simmered beneath Joohyeon’s surface for years, fueled by resentment and the constant feeling of being overshadowed. Things he had suppressed in attempts to keep his facade as a capable son.

But today, something snapped.

He hadn’t planned this. No. It was just a mere coincidence.

Truly. The older man’s actions were not premeditated.

A wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time kind of situation.

But perhaps this was exactly the right opportunity for Lee Joohyeon. To soothe the anger that coursed through him.

When he had spotted Minho’s car on the road, triple checking the license plate, the make and model, a sudden surge of fury had consumed him. A fury that drove his actions without conscious thought.

He remembered the moment vividly.

The white-hot rage that had coursed through him as he stomped on the accelerator. In that brief, reckless instant, nothing else had mattered but the desire to lash out, to take a revenge he didn’t know he wanted. Nothing else had mattered when he was determined to hit the car. But now, all that was left was fear. Only one thought repeating in his mind over and over again.

That he was absolutely fucked.

Slowly, the second grandson gathered his senses, his trembling hands tracing the cracked frame of his glasses. Struggling against the pain, Joohyeon managed to pry open the door that rattled at the slightest touch, wincing as he stumbled out onto the pavement. He leaned heavily on his shredded vehicle, his breath catching in his throat as he limped towards the crumpled remains of Minho’s car, praying that he hadn’t actually ended up killing him.

As he drew closer, he realized Minho’s car was much more of a wreck up close, its passenger side a mangled mess. His wide eyes scanned, peering inside.

He froze.

There, amidst the shattered glass and twisted metal, lay Y/N Park. Her serene stillness and the stark contrast of her blood against her once-white dress, blood running down her face, sent a chill down Joohyeon’s spine.

He suddenly wished he did kill Minho.

Joohyeon staggered back, his mind reeling with disbelief and horror. He swallowed hard, tears mixing with the blood on his face, panic setting in. The ringing in his ears drowned out the distant sirens approaching the scene. He was still in pain, but he knew that he should just consider himself dead now. There was no way Park Hyunmin would let him out of this alive.

So the second grandson of the Lee family, did what he does best after creating a mess.

He ran away.

But of course he doesn’t think about the cameras, the witnesses that watched him do so.

Because after all, he wasn’t worthy of leading anyone, forget L Corporation. A dimwit indeed.

The news of Lee Joohyeon’s reckless actions and the tragic aftermath of the car accident spread swiftly through the media, overshadowing what should have been a joyous occasion celebrating the civil marriage of the youngest Lee son and the Park heiress, which had barely been announced before tragedy struck.

Breaking News.

This just in.

What should have been a happy day for the couple.

Brother attacks brother.

The headlines flashed across screens, capturing the attention of viewers nationwide. Among them, Chairman Lee stared at the broadcast, his face drained of color, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The reporters at the scene of the accident were mere feet away from the twisted wreckage, their voices somber as they described the scene.

Secretary Cha entered the room hastily, but his steps faltered when he saw the stunned expression on Chairman Lee’s face. He approached cautiously, concern etched on his features as he realized the impact of the news on his superior.

Chairman Lee could feel it again. That pain in his chest. But this time, the pain struck him suddenly and fiercely, stealing his breath. He groaned in agony, the pressure in his chest unbearable.

“Chairman!” Secretary Cha exclaims, holding onto him before he collapses.

Amidst the chaos, another alert flashed across screens.

Breaking News: Chairman Lee of L Corporation has a heart attack.

Then there was Park Hyunmin.

Y/N’s father was beyond pissed. The kind of fury that could only be extinguished by seeing Lee Joohyeon pay for whatever chaos he had left behind in his recklessness.

Just this morning the father had seen his daughter, giddy and glowing. Radiant. She had hugged her mother, dressed up more than usual. Exclaiming she had a surprise for them, one she would bring home that same night. An inkling that it had something to do with Minho.

Yet the only surprise he received was a phone call. The kind no parent wanted to get.

He stormed through the house security and kicked down the doors of the Lee Residence, wielding a katana.

Inside, the remaining members of the Lee family were gathered in the living room, visibly shaken by the day’s events. The Chairman’s two older sons had rushed him to the hospital, while Jihoon sat among the women, who were in hysterics over the family’s misfortunes.

“Where the fuck is Lee Joohyeon?!” Park Hyunmin roared, his fury unmistakable, seethed through clenched teeth.

Joohyeon’s mother rushed to him, her voice trembling with desperation.

“I’m so sorry Director Park, my son has done something so terrible. He didn’t mean to hurt Y/N. Please. Please forgive him.” She pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

Park Hyunmin shot her an angry glare.

“Even if he didn’t mean to hurt Y/N, his original plan was to harm Minho. My son-in-law. He’s had it out for him—even going as far as airing out his illegitimacy!” He spat, his voice laced with venom.

His words took the members of the Lee family and Minho’s so-called mother off guard, bewildered. Unaware of exactly what kind of misdeeds her competent son had been stacking behind their backs.

Now, with a sword in hand, Y/N’s father was searching for the man he had treated with kindness only hours earlier. Even going as far as pretending his nonsensical babble over their brief encounter, was nothing but drunken words.

“I don’t care if I get arrested. Only god can save that son of yours. Because if I see him.” He warned, leaning in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

“I will end him.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

───────────────────────

Minho’s eyes snapped open, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breath coming out in ragged exhales as he adjusted to the blinding hospital lights. The sterile smell of the hospital overwhelmed his senses, as his eyes darted over the pale ceiling, trying to figure out exactly where he was.

And almost instantly his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. The image of his bride, who had smiled so brightly at him, the image of her bloody figure slumped limply at just an arms length away, came surging back to him.

But now Minho was alone. In the room that smelled heavy of antiseptic and the loud, sharp ringing of machines. He was alone and his new wife was nowhere to be seen.

The youngest son grimaced as his hands attempted to push himself up, wincing in pain at the sharp sting he felt on his left arm, realizing it was in a cast. Struggling, he still managed to sit up, another surge of pain shot through him, making him groan.

His body was a patchwork of bandages, perhaps even cuts and bruises he hadn’t gotten a chance of looking at, the cast on his hand felt heavy. But not heavier than that anxious feeling weighing in his heart.

He glanced around at the emptiness of the room he was in a daze, confused, panicked.

The door slid open, Secretary Kim, who Minho hadn’t seen since the day he found out about his mother, entered the room. Upon seeing him awake, the younger man rushed in, his face etched with a mixture of relief and distress.

“Sir!” Yongguk exclaimed, hurrying to Minho’s side.

Minho attempted to rise, a sudden rush in his actions. But his legs felt weak, and he nearly toppled over before Yongguk steadied him. Minho’s eyes, filled with a desperate and pained intensity, searched for answers. Fingers clawing at the fabric of Yongguk’s jacket.

“W-where’s Y/N?” Minho’s voice cracked as he barely managed to whisper, the horrifying image of her bloodied form haunting him.

Yongguk hesitated, his face falling as he braced himself to deliver the crushing news. “Miss Park… she’s—”

“She’s what!?” Minho’s voice was a raw, desperate plea as he gripped Yongguk’s jacket with a tighter grip, his tears spilling over.

“She hasn’t regained consciousness.” Yongguk said softly. “The impact of the accident was on the passenger side. She sustained critical injuries. Miss Park has been unconscious since the accident.”

The weight of the words crashed over Minho like a tidal wave. He slowly sank back onto the bed, his face a mask of pain. After a long silence, he wiped away his tears, his gaze piercing as he looked up at Secretary Kim.

“Who did this?” Minho’s voice was barely more than a whisper, quivering with dread.

Minho knew.

His mind raced, fearing that this was no mere accident. His grandfather? Because he decided to leave? Or Jungshin? Getting revenge on him for the overseas slush funds? Perhaps even his uncle?

“Lee Joohyeon.” Secretary Kim’s voice was grim.

Minho was surprised.

No.

He didn’t see this coming. He thought he didn’t ever have to worry about that idiot. Thought he took care of him, sending him away with his tail between his legs. But now the only person that Minho cared about was hanging between life and death because of him.

“He had fled the scene.” Yongguk continued, his voice heavy with frustration.

“The authorities are trying to track him down, but he’s vanished.”

Minho’s hands clenched the bed sheets with white-knuckled fury, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity.

“Release the CCTV footage from the yacht.” The superior ordered, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

“I want Joohyeon found. I’ll kill him myself.”

Yongguk swallowed. His form rigid as he took in the sight of his superior’s cold expression. He nodded, suddenly understanding the gravity of Minho’s command. Understanding the “risky” tasks he had been warned about.

“I’ll take care of it, sir.” He found himself stating.

A sudden silence ensued. The secretary wondering if he should bring it up or not.

“There’s more.” Yongguk added, hesitating.

“The Chairman had a heart attack after hearing the news.”

The chairman’s youngest son stared at nothingness as he processed the additional news. For a moment there was an unreadable emotion in his eyes before his gaze darkened.

“That old man won’t die. He’s as stubborn as they come.”

Minho was right.

The Chairman wouldn’t die so easily.

As if Minho’s recovery was his medicine. Chairman Lee’s resilience was remarkable. Despite the heart attack, the news of Minho’s waking up, mostly fine and alive, seemed to invigorate him anew.

The old man sat in his hospital bed, reading the news. He was angry, but after Secretary Cha came in with the news that Minho had woken up, the father felt fine, as if his heart was healed.

Though it was a pity that Y/N Park was still in such a critical condition. As long as Minho was okay, it was solace enough for the greedy Chairman.

“Secretary Cha.” Chairman Lee’s voice, though weakened, was still cold, authoritative.

“Has Joohyeon been found yet?”

“Not yet, sir. He’s injured, so he can’t stay hidden for long.”

“Find him.” Chairman Lee ordered, his voice carrying sharply.

“Yes, sir.” The secretary responded promptly.

“Find him and deal with him.”

Secretary Cha blinked, a little taken aback. Even after working over thirty years for the Chairman, it was a first that the superior had ordered him to harm his own blood. But Lee Joohyeon had already been on thin ice because of his hand in Jae’s demise.

“I will not tolerate anyone who harms my family.” Chairman Lee declared, his voice unwavering.

“Especially someone who attempted to kill my son.”

The Chairman’s words were cold. As if the man in question wasn’t his grandson. But some scum that was a threat to their lives.

The scum, Lee Joohyeon was painfully aware. Of course Joohyeon knew.

Fully aware of the gravity of his situation, Minho’s awakening and the Chairman’s recovery had sealed his fate.

Oh, the things Minho had probably planned to do to him. The older “brother” knew what the youngest was capable of.

Chairman Lee had recovered and most definately would bury him alive.

Even Park Hyunmin wanted his head.

Lee Joohyeon had managed to anger three people that were capable of demolishing him. The threats against him were overwhelming.

He was better off in Japan. Exiled.

The second grandson made a fateful decision. A decision driven by fear. By his lack of choices, cornered.

Probably the best one in his pathetic life.

Wounded and desperate, he limped into the police station. He would rather surrender, than live with the relentless fear of being hunted down by his enemies.

At least he had some sense in him.

───────────────────────

Minho gazed at his new bride, a sight that shattered him every time.

She wasn’t in the beautiful white dress she had chosen just for him. Instead, she lay in this hospital bed, littered in cuts and bruises, stitches and castings. An oxygen mask obscuring her face, while the relentless beeping of the heart rate monitor echoed in the oppressive silence.

Five agonizing days had passed, and still, Y/N hadn’t awakened.

The doctor’s words echoed in his mind. The longer she remained unconscious, the slimmer the chances of her waking up.

That thought terrified him more than he’d ever thought possible. He leaned closer to her bedside, taking her limp hand in his. Gently, he pressed his lips to her cold fingers, trying to hold back his tears. She looked so peaceful, almost serene in her stillness, a sight that only deepened the clench in his heart.

Still, an anger festered within him. Fueled by the knowledge that Lee Joohyeon had surrendered to the police while he sat here, helpless.

He should’ve found that man first. Should’ve taken Joohyeon’s life for snatching away Y/N’s radiant smile.

Minho should’ve protected her.

Another promise he failed at keeping.

The Chairman’s heart attack ignited an inheritance battle between his two sons, unaware that neither had even been favored by the old man.

The two sons sat down with the Chairman’s attorney, their greed barely masked by their feigned concern. They demanded the reading of the old man’s will. Even though he wasn’t even dead yet.

Those greedy bastards.

“I’ll just tell you myself.” A voice came from the doorway.

Mooyoung and Doyoung were surprised. Chairman Lee, seated in a wheelchair and pushed by Secretary Cha, entered the room. His expression contorted in annoyance and disdain.

“You ungrateful fools couldn’t even wait for me to actually die.” He spat, his disappointment palpable

“Father!” Mooyoung rushed to his side, his younger brother trailing behind.

“It’s not like that.” Mooyoung stammered, trying to salvage his dignity.

“We just wanted to take precautions.”

“Yes, brother is right.” Doyoung chimed by his side, attempting to justify their greed.

“Especially with everything that’s happened this week.” The brothers shared a glance.

The Chairman’s glare was unyielding, unconvinced. He looked past his sons to Attorney Goh, who stood by, waiting for instructions.

“Attorney Goh.” The Chairman started.

“Please, go ahead and tell them what I’ve decided. You have my permission.”

Although the lawyer didn’t have the document on him, he was familiar with its contents, especially after the numerous revisions. He had been relieved when he was told that the final draft was indeed final.

“Chairman Lee has decided to give seventy-percent of his assets and shares of L Corp. and all businesses tied to L Corporation, to Lee Minho.”

The old man watched the expressions on his two sons’ faces fall. The shock on Mooyoung and Doyoung’s faces was immediate and profound. Their expressions darkened with disbelief and resentment.

“Twenty percent will be divided between Lee Mooyoung and Lee Doyoung, with five percent allocated to Lee Jookshin, to her son, Chairman Lee’s great-grandson, five percent. Should something unfortunate happen to Lee Minho without an heir, the remaining assets will be sold, and the proceeds will be donated to charity.”

This new information shocked Mooyoung and Doyoung even more, hittling them like a sledgehammer. Anger flared in Mooyoung’s eyes as he turned to his father in his wheelchair.

“Father, how could you do that!?” Mooyoung’s voice trembled with fury.

Doyoung, though silent, was visibly seething. Falling into a silence as he began to ponder.

“You built everything from the ground up. How can you just give it away to charity?” Mooyoung’s voice cracked with a mix of outrage and disbelief.

The Chairman’s eyes flared with anger. Already thinking about the what-ifs of Minho’s death.

“Someone in this family tried to kill Minho. How else am I supposed to protect him?” He demanded with a glare.

Lee Mooyoung’s brow furrowed deeper, his frustration evident in his expression. “Why do you need to protect that bastard?”

The venom in Mooyoung’s words only served to further enrage both his fake father and The Chairman, his real father.

“He’s my blood, Mooyoung.” the Chairman said with a chilling calmness.

The intensity of his gaze silenced Mooyoung, who took a step back, his anger turning to sullen defeat.

Lee Doyoung, however, was already plotting his next move.

“You’ve made a very wise decision, Father.” He said with a grin, clearly scheming about the potential shift in power, the change of ranks within the family.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” The Chairman said coldly.

“If you think you can continue to exploit Minho, you’re a fool. He’s no longer the boy you could keep pressed under your thumb.”

Secretary Cha began to wheel the Chairman towards his bedroom.

“He surpassed you a long long time ago.” His words seemed final.

Of course, Lee Doyoung didn’t grasp the gravity of his father’s words. He was, indeed, a fool. A fool who had made his way to the hospital where Minho sat by his new bride’s side. The new husband still clung to Y/N’s unconscious hand.

The hospital door slid open with an intrusive screech, jolting Minho. His gaze shifted from Y/N’s still form to the entrance, where Doyoung’s imposing figure appeared.

“I knew I’d find you here.” The “father” declared, his eyes briefly flickering to Y/N before settling on Minho.

Yongguk ran closely behind, halting at the door and bowing deeply.

“I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stop him but—”

“It’s okay. You can go.” Minho interrupted, his voice firm.

Doyoung’s eyes narrowed in irritation as he watched Yongguk exit. “What kind of secretary did you keep, that disrespectful fool—”

“You’re the disrespectful fool.” Minho cut in, his tone icy and unyielding.

Lee Doyoung’s face twisted in disbelief. “How dare you speak to me like that!” He snapped, his anger bubbling over, suddenly recalling Chairman Lee’s words from earlier.

Minho was pissed. How much more shameless could he get?

“How dare you barge into my wife’s hospital room like this?” He said, his voice low, rage simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Oh. You must have heard about the Chairman giving you seventy percent of the shares. That’s why you’re so cocky now, talking to your father so rudely?” Doyoung came to his own conclusions.

Minho’s eyes darkened further. And without warning, he shoved Doyoung against the door, the impact echoing through the room. He pinned Doyoung with his good arm, his face a mask of intense fury. The man under his grip stared back with bewilderment. A shock that made his face grow almost pale.

“I don’t care about the shares of L Corp., Lee Doyoung.” Minho said, his voice a chilling whisper.

Doyoung’s eyes widened with shock at the way Minho addressed him. The intensity of Minho’s words left him momentarily speechless.

“You’re not my father. You never were. The man you look up to so much, the one you’re so terrified of, set you up twenty-eight years ago and you didn’t even realize it.”

Doyoung’s anger surfaced on his face, shoving the injured man back.

“You ungrateful brat! The Lee family has taken care of you for all these years, and this is how you repay us?” He poked Minho’s chest, his voice dripping with venom.

Minho’s laughter was a bitter sound that filled the room, almost in disbelief.

“Take care? You must be joking.” He said, his laughter abruptly stopping as his expression hardened.

“The Lee family made a mess of itself. Don’t blame me. Rather, you should be grateful I had been there to clean up your messes. Or you would have fallen a long time ago.”

Doyoung’s realization that Minho was no longer a pawn but a force to be reckoned with was dawning on him. A realization he made after being humiliated. He suddenly understood, Minho would no longer be controlled, instead would be the one in command now.

“Son, listen—” Doyoung began, his voice trembling.

“I’m not your son, Lee Doyoung.” Minho cut him off coldly.

“And I don’t want to hear your rambling.”

Doyoung’s face paled with sudden anxiety as he looked up at Minho, who now seemed towering over him.

Minho leaned in, his breath hot against Doyoung’s ear.

“Make sure to tell that pathetic Joohyeon, that I was the one who sent those threatening texts.” He whispered, pulling back to watch Doyoung’s face contort with shock and horror.

Minho’s laughter, dark and menacing, filled the space as he opened the hospital room door and forcefully shoved Doyoung out. The door shut with a faint slam, and Minho closed his eyes, his jaw clenched in frustration.

It was one thing after another. The reporters wouldn’t stop calling him, Chairman Lee kept trying to contact him, the company couldn’t get anything done without him.

All he wanted was Y/N to be by his side.

Awake.

“Min...ho.” A soft, fragile voice called out.

His eyes flew open, and he turned to see Y/N slowly turning her head toward him. His heart leaped as he rushed to her side. She weakly tugged at the oxygen mask, removing it with trembling hands.

“Y/N!” Minho’s voice cracked with emotion, tears pricking in his eyes.

She tried to smile despite the pain, her tear-filled eyes meeting his as he held her hand to his lips, letting out a sob of relief.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered with his cries.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She murmured, tears mingling with her smile as she watched him break into a vulnerable chuckle, crying into their loose grasp of entangled fingers.

───────────────────────

The youngest son of the Lee family might have been on the lowest ranks when it came to the members of the family, but he was now the only one capable enough to run L Corporation.

Lee Minho was the only one left. Mooyoung and Doyoung guessed it correctly, their times of pushing around Minho had come to an end. They were forced to acknowledge Minho’s authority, bow down to someone decades younger than them.

Bow down to their younger brother. Though they never found that out.

The youngest son had been ready to leave behind the Lee family and L Corp. altogether. But after the accident, a realization dawned.

Without the power and influence that came with his role, he could not truly protect those he cherished.

Protect Y/N.

The Chairman had practically begged Minho to return. His declining health, suddenly made him desperate perhaps. He could not bear to watch L Corp. crumble because of the rotten sons he unfortunately fathered.

His company. His child.

Minho went back.

But of course it came with clauses.

There were going to be significant changes in the dynamics of the so-called family he grew up in. A revenge in its own.

A change that amused the youngest son plenty, unable to hide his sinister smile as he stared at the faces of all those who looked down at him. The disgust-laced gazes were suddenly filled with desperation. A look he enjoyed the sight of.

Lee Jihoon, who had always wanted to live his life away from the spotlight of the Lee family, was free to do so. He took that opportunity to leave for his next trip to South America. Last anyone had heard from him, he was road tripping through Brazil. Though he did keep in touch with Y/N from time to time.

Lee Jookshin didn’t interact much with anyone in the Lee family following her brother’s fall from grace. Her interactions became sparse, her presence a distant figure.

Lee Jungshin, tainted by the scandal of the slush-fund fiasco, chose to disappear after learning of the potential prison sentence for money laundering. He fled overseas, with his mother in tow.

As for Lee Joohyeon, his fate was sealed with the weight of multiple crimes. Convicted not only of attempted murder but also of manslaughter in Jae’s death years earlier, Joohyeon’s downfall came swiftly.

Prosecutors received an anonymous email with the yacht CCTV footage. Then a few days later, the chip containing Lee Jae’s car dashcam evidence showed up on the lead detective’s desk.

As if it all came with the wind.

Minho’s ascend to the presidency of L Corp. was solidified with the success of The Rose Garden Resort, a testament to his leadership and vision. His victories affirmed his place as a formidable figure in both business and the family.

Chairman Lee rejoiced, as if he had planned everything from the beginning.

Except he didn’t plan another heart attack.

This one however, kept him tied to the hospital bed for the next three years.

───────────────────────

Lee Minho walked into his new office, its grandeur evident in the bright white walls and gold-framed paintings. His fingers brushed over the crystal plaque bearing his name.

Chairman Lee Minho.

He paused, feeling the weight of his new title settle around him. Uncertainty and pride mingled within him. He did not know how to feel. He had once wanted this position. Only for the sole purpose to drive the company to the ground.

Yet, now that he was here, he found himself hesitating.

A knock on the glass door drew him from his thoughts. He turned to find Secretary Kim, greeting him.

“I’ve declined the invitation from the directors for a celebration as you requested.” Yongguk reported.

The new chairman nodded, looking out of the large window once again.

“There’s also a gala hosted by the Director of Yeom Arts tomorrow evening. I’ve arranged your schedule around it.” Yongguk continued.

Minho turned with a raised eyebrow. “Yeom Arts…Isn’t that where the Hwangs married into?” He tried to recall, to which his secretary nodded.

“Their second son Hwang Hyunjin married Director Yeom earlier this year.” Secretary Kim clarified.

Minho let out a nonchalant “hmm”, already lost interest.

“Madame Park has arrived and is waiting in the lobby.” The secretary continued.

The mention of Y/N brought a genuine smile to Minho’s face. The only one he wanted to celebrate with.

His family.

Heading to the lobby, Minho’s heart lightened at the sight of Y/N. Her presence already made him relax into a familiar comfort. She beamed as he approached, and Minho’s smile widened in return. Then his gaze flickered down to the approaching patters of small feet.

“Daddy!”

Minho instinctively crouched down to catch his two year old running towards him, into his arms. Her laughter erupted as he scooped her up, his grin wide.

“Did you miss me princess?” The father asked, his voice full of warmth.

Y/N approached the father-daughter duo, reaching over and gently brushed back the little girl’s hair.

“She got really excited when I told her we’re having dinner outside today.”

Minho laughed, holding his daughter close before reaching for Y/N’s hand.

“Let’s go.” He smiled softly.

There was a time the youngest son had doubted his capabilities as a father. But now, looking at the admiration in his daughter’s eyes as she played with his tie, made his heart swell.

Minho didn’t know what being a good father looked like. He had never seen a true example of one in his life.

The father figures, the fake, the real, had never embodied the qualities of a good father that Minho had glimpsed throughout his life of other children, of his siblings.

But he swore. To himself, to his then unborn child in the quiet of the night when Y/N had long drifted into her slumber.

He would be a good father. He would try to be a good father. He would do everything his fake father, his real father, hadn’t done.

Minho read the baby book. Studying it with such intensity that it felt like he might tear it apart.

Y/N would giggle, brushing back his hair as she pulled away the glasses that had been perched on his nose. A soft graze of her fingers that brought him out of his thoughts.

“Are you planning on getting a PhD on newborn babies?” She laughed, settling on the edge of his desk.

Minho shook his head, closing the book before staring at her with a new intensity. His eyes darted from her soft expression to her stomach. Deep in thought once again.

“Don’t be so nervous. We have plenty of time to prepare. I’m sure everything will be alright.” His wife’s words were reassuring, her smile unwavering.

He rolled his chair closer, sighing as he took her hand into his, attempting to thin his lips into a smile as he nodded.

But Minho was afraid. Still afraid that he wouldn’t be a good father. That he couldn’t be a good father. He was a mess of a man who was the outcome of a disastrous family line. An embarrassment he didn’t have the courage to even admit let alone bring up.

Minho knew he would be protective, just as he was with Y/N, the love of his life, the only person he truly cared for. He knew he would stand by his child’s side, watching over them and keeping them close. But he wasn’t sure if he could truly love them.

The youngest son had always claimed he didn’t know what love was. For a long time, he didn’t understand what it felt like to be loved. Not until Y/N had entered his life.

Even then, he didn’t know that the feeling clenching in his heart whenever she hurt herself, whenever someone spoke ill of her was protectiveness.

The sour taste in his mouth when hearing her name connected. To another’s, seeing her attached to someone else, was jealousy.

The overwhelming fear of losing her was, in fact, love. Nothing but love. Something he took too long to recognize, nearly losing her in the process.

But perhaps the cries were all he needed to hear.

The pure, innocent wails of a newborn that echoed, loud in his ears. A call to the world that she was finally here. A part of him, a part of Y/N. Evidence of the love he swore he didn’t know about.

And all his worries, his nervousness that he had bottled up during the months before she had arrived, melted in an instant. And the new father suddenly knew that he was going to be fine.

Lee Minho would make an excellent father, one that he had never known.

───────────────────────

Lee Minho was an excellent father. But he could never be a good son.

He would never be a good son. Both to the fake and the real.

The former Chairman had been bed bound ever since his second heart attack. The stillness of the hospital room was both suffocating, but serene.

Secretary Cha entered quietly. Like he did every day, a routine he had fallen into over the past three years. But this time he had a somber expression on his face.

The old man lay in bed, his movements slow and breaths labored, an oxygen mask over his nose.

“Did Minho refuse to visit again?” The old man asked in a raspy whisper.

Secretary Cha’s silence answered him. The former Chairman managed a small, knowing smile.

“Call him for me.” The old man requested, his voice strained.

Secretary Cha made the call. Minho didn’t pick up the first time, nor the second. By the fourth ring on the third attempt, his voice finally came through, cold and detached.

“Chairman Lee, your father wanted to see you. He wanted to congratulate you in person.”

Minho’s silence was followed by a laugh, harsh and dismissive.

“Tell the old man to stick to the deal we made. Don’t contact me for such trivial matters.”

The call ended abruptly. Secretary Cha looked at the former Chairman, who continued to gaze at the ceiling. A faint smile spread across the old man’s face.

“My son.” He murmured, his voice a mix of pride and resignation.

“He’s achieved what he set out to do... reach the very top.”

The old man coughed, turning his head to meet Secretary Cha’s sympathetic eyes.

“Perhaps it’s time for you to retire, Cha Wonshik.” Former Chairman Lee said softly.

Secretary Cha hesitated before nodding, his pity evident. “Go prepare for you granddaughter’s wedding.” The Chairman added weakly.

After a heavy silence and Secretary Cha’s hesitant exit, the room fell silent once more, the only sound the steady beep of the heart monitor.

The former Chairman stared up at the ceiling again, at the bright light and slowly whispered to himself.

“My youngest son…is stubborn, he is arrogant, he is conniving. But he’s always done a very good job hiding it all behind his mask. He’s a master at mind games.” He attempted to chuckle to himself.

His laughs morphed into labored coughs. Former Chairman Lee took a strained deep breath, and whispered once more.

“Lee Minho is…”

His voice trailed off into silence, the heart monitor’s beep stretching into an unending, haunting note.

Minho walked into the private dining room of the restaurant, his gaze softening as he saw Y/N and their daughter seated at the table. He placed his phone down and slid back into his seat.

Y/N looked up from her meal, her eyes curious.

“Who was that?” She eyed the phone he had discarded atop of the table.

Minho gave a reassuring smile, shaking his head.

“Not important—How’s the food?” He easily changed the subject.

Y/N had always been one to easily read Minho’s expressions, his body language. And although she was aware that it was more than just a “not important” phone call, that his shrug as he sat down was to shake off her worries, she just smiled in return, nodding as she took another bite.

Minho’s gaze shifted to their daughter, who was happily making a mess with her food. Pasta sauce smeared across her lips which made her father chuckle, his eyes creasing into crescent-moons. Y/N watched as her husband leaned over to gently brush back their daughter’s hair and wipe the mess from her face, his eyes filled with the same warmth and affection he showed when he was with Y/N.

She watched Minho with a tender smile.

Lingering.

And for a split second, her expression wavered.

Y/N’s smile faltered.

Just for a fleeting moment though.

A millisecond of uncertainty.

A millisecond of something else.

Her husband glanced back up at her, hand reaching over to caress hers. Minho smiled. The genuine ones she loved seeing on him, one that she returned with her own wide grin.

Lee Minho is… just like his father, isn’t he?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

── thanks for reading! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme, @candyquokka

103 notes · View notes

sara-scribbles · 7 months ago

Text

Melting the Dragon King's Heart (Part 3)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/F!Reader Summary: After falling down some stairs, you wake up in the body of a villain from one of Idia's cheesy romance books. Destined to die a fiery death, you have to figure out a way to change your fate. Word Count: 7,661 Notes: Hey all, sorry for being off the grid for so long! I've been busy and haven't had much time to do anything besides study. But we're finally at the end! I hope everyone enjoyed the story! It was a lot of fun to try my hand at writing this. Malleus is a fun character to write for.

I might have some more isekai/regression/reincarnation stories for Leona and Jamil. It's something I've been thinking about but haven't fully committed. Let me know if these ideas sound interesting and you'd like me to write on them.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional abuse, attempted murder, actual murder, death

Despite being in the library often, it’s always a little daunting when you first step in. There are plenty of staff to help, but shelves upon shelves of texts are still a bit much. A lot of the texts near the back are quite old. A lot of them have to be handled with care or they might just fall apart.

After asking for books on enchanted weapons, with a strange look from the librarian, you sit down and try your best to go through as much as possible. After a few hours of no success, you feel a headache coming on. Leaning back, you let out a deep, tired breath. There are plenty of enchanted weapons, some real and some just legend, but there’s nothing about the specific weapon you’re looking for.

In the story, the dagger is described as being crimson with an obsidian handle. It was originally a sword blessed by a group of fairies to take down a corrupted dragon. However, once the blade had been dipped in the ancient dragon’s blood, the blessing turned into a curse. Somehow the sword was broken but enough remained to create a dagger.

Any cut made by the blade could not be healed. No magic, no potion, no artifact could stop the bleeding. The wounded person would bleed to death. If the person was lucky, they could die in a matter of seconds. Those not so lucky would have an agonizingly slow death. Even if they were to cauterize the wound, the bleeding would continue. It would only stop once the wounded died.

“Very grim,” you mutter under your breath. For such a light hearted novel, the curse of the blade was surprising. However, it’s never used since the main protagonist is able to get it.

“Your highness, is everything alright?” the royal librarian.

Sitting up straight, you clear your throat. “I don’t think I’ll be able to find what I’m looking for. Could you put these back?” You close the book with a thump.

“Of course. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you.” Deciding to head back to your office, you leave the library. By now you know how to navigate your way through the castle.

Your feet move on autopilot as your mind wanders. There must be something you can do. The only other thing you can think of is returning home to see if they’ve found the cursed dagger. Of course this would require you to figure out the relative time frame of when Yūki meets Malleus to when it's found. However, you’re unsure if following the story timeline would even be helpful with how different everything is now.

Arriving back at your office, you eye the stack of documents still left for your review. Plopping down onto the chair unceremoniously, you rub your eyes. Instead of doing the work on your desk, you find the previous book you had been reading. You never thought books about laws would be interesting, but Briar Valley has some strange laws that make reading about them fascinating.

As you flip to the bookmark, you note with some irony that the next chapter is on divorce. Perhaps when your plan had been to divorce Malleus, this would have been helpful. Though, still curious, you decide to read it. Everything about Briar Valley’s laws are complicated, though maybe not as complicated as the Queendom of Roses. There are separate laws for fae, humans, and fae-human issues.

You skip to the section on fae-human divorce since that would apply to you. “ ‘Depending on whether the parties have participated in the soul ceremony, divorce can be rather difficult though not impossible.’ What’s a soul ceremony?”

Before you can continue, Diablo knocks on the door. “Your grace, lunch is being served.” You quickly close the book before following him.

---

You’re silently reading in bed while Malleus goes through some documents. The times he used to come to your room to “hold your hand” has extended to almost every night. Instead of holding your hand, you both comfortably sit in your bed either talking or reading.

Malleus still returns to his room once it’s time for bed. You almost asked him if he wanted to stay the previous night, but you lost your nerves. There’s something very different from just reading in bed to actually sleeping next to him. You wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with him, but it’s almost been an entire year of marriage and you haven’t once slept in the same bed, so you’re unsure about how to bring it up.

Malleus shuffles his papers with a deep sigh. Glancing over at him, he rubs the bridge of his nose while muttering to himself. “Something wrong?” you ask.

He sets the papers aside on the bedside table. “Nothing really. Just that grandmother will be visiting soon. And she’s already placed certain…demands on me.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “She is?!” You had only met her a handful of times. Yet, in those few formal visits, all you can recall is how intimidating both in magic and overall presence she is.

Chuckling, the fae reaches out and squeezes your hand. “No need to worry, my heart. I’ll take care of all the preparations.”

Book forgotten, you turn to him. “What did she ask for?”

“She wants her favorite room overlooking the gardens. She, of course, expects to have dinner with both of us. And a few other things about her daily walks around Briar Valley that I’m sure Diablo can take care of,” he answers, ticking off each one on his fingers.

Fiddling with the sheets, you ask, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm… She didn’t say anything in her letters. But I’m sure she’ll let you know if she wants anything.” His gaze flickers over to the book in your lap.

“I should do something for her. Since it’s been awhile, maybe I can get her some flowers. Or maybe plan an outing? Do you think she’d want to have tea in the gardens? Or maybe…” As you ramble, Malleus takes the book from your lap.

He nods occasionally while he skims the page. His lips press together in a thin line. Brows furrowing, his eyes narrow. You pause when you finally notice he’s not listening. “Malleus?”

Turning away from the book, he asks in a serious tone, “Did I do something wrong?”

Blinking owlishly, you cycle back to the conversation. Yet, nothing comes to mind about what he is referring to. “What are you talking about?”

He gestures to the book. “You’re reading about divorce in regards to fae-human relationships. Did I do something wrong to make you consider divorce?” Though his tone is even, the stormy look in his eyes say otherwise. There’s a flash of lighting outside the window.

Ignoring the sudden change in weather, you shake your head. “I’m not planning to divorce you, Malleus.”

His shoulders relax and his gaze clears. “I see…”

Taking the book away from him, you set it aside. “I’ll tell you the truth. I may have considered divorce at the start of our marriage because I didn’t want you to be unhappy.” ‘I also didn’t want to die’ you add silently. “But I realized that it would be unfair to ask for divorce based on a few months together. And it would be selfish of me to not consider your own feelings.”

“If you aren’t happy here, I’d be fine with a divorce,” he says, his voice strained. “I want you to be happy.”

Leaning against his shoulder, you hum in agreement. “I am happy. And you’re happy too, right?”

“Of course,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Except the fact your parents possibly have a weapon that could kill him.

He wraps his arm around your middle, dragging you closer to his side so your head rests against his chest. He leans back against the pillows. You can hear the steady beating of his heart. A comfortable silence falls and you're almost lulled to sleep. The thought of sharing a room pops into your head once more.

“Hey, do you want to share a room?” you inquire, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

Malleus straightens up, which startles your comfortable position. “You wish to share a room?” His eyes are wide.

Sitting up, you find yourself picking at the sheets again. “Well, you basically come here every night, so that would be the most logical thing to do. And we are married, so it wouldn’t be strange if we decided to sleep in the same room.”

Shuffling out of bed, Malleus puts on his dragon slippers. “I will let Diablo know at once to prepare the master bedroom,” he says hurriedly.

“M-Mallues?” He has already gathered his papers and is about to head out before he stops halfway.

He walks back over to you. With a large grin, he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “I almost forgot, my heart. Good night.” Eyes twinkling, he leaves without another word.

Your mouth hangs open for a bit before you snap it closed with a click.

---

In less than a day, your new bedroom is ready. Diablo has your things moved in while you're working. The old butler seems at ease and comments how Malleus is in a wonderful mood. Everyone you pass by smiles brightly at you. You’re almost embarrassed at the fact that it seems everyone knows why he’s in a good mood. But, it’s honestly adorable.

There is a nervous feeling that settles in your stomach as you think about the logistics of sharing a room. For one, you have to share a bathroom, which isn’t much of an issue considering how massive the bathrooms are. The only thing you’re concerned about is possibly being walked in on while changing. It isn’t like you haven’t seen another naked person, but you’re self conscious about the scars on your back.

No one, besides your parents and the few people who treated you on occasion when you were unable to, knows about the scars. They’re all thin and straight, but there are so many. They crisscross from the top of your back to the small of your back. Some are very old while others are only about a year old.

You recall the faces of the few doctors who had seen the scars. Looks of shock and pity aren’t uncommon. One, you recall vividly, did not react at all, but you could see the way her hands shook. Yet, none dared to ask where the marks came from nor did they ever say anything to your parents. They valued their lives far more.

How could you blame them?

Shaking your head to clear out the bad thoughts, you decide you’ll figure out what to do when the time comes. For now, you have to decide what to do with two unexpected visitors.

There had been a commotion at the palace gates that Diablo had come to you about this morning. When you heard what happened, you immediately went to meet them. Now in the drawing room, Yūki sits across from you looking sheepish. Grim happily munches on the food offered by Diablo.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you start. It’s true since Yūki and Grim are not supposed to come for another two months. It’s just another indication that the story is completely different.

Yūki sighs. “Grim kept nagging about wanting to visit. When he wants to do something, he typically won’t change his mind. I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced.”

You wave off their apology. “It’s fine. I just wanted to be able to prepare for your visit more. Diablo can prepare a guest room. It’s a little busy here because Malleus’s grandmother is visiting soon.” you explain.

“Should we leave? I don’t want to be intruding…” Grim doesn’t seem bothered as he downs a cup of tea. Diablo pours him a refill without missing a beat.

“No, it’s fine. She’s not supposed to be here for another month. So, how are your travels?” you ask, changing the subject.

They seem to relax a bit. “It’s great! We went to visit the Scalding Sands before coming here. We even got to ride a magic carpet!” Their eyes light up as they talk about their newest adventure.

You wonder how they felt in the original novel when they had to stay in Briar Valley at the end. The author didn’t mention much about what happened except that Yūki went on to rule alongside Malleus. It was implied that they never left Briar Valley. Could someone who loved traveling so much really be happy staying in one place?

At some point in the conversation Malleus comes in. He pauses when his gaze lands on Yūki. You watch as he regards them curiously. Yet, it’s only a brief pause before he turns to you to ask you a few questions about a document. He leaves right after without a second look.

A part of you is a little disappointed at the underwhelming moment of their first meeting. However, another part is happy that there isn’t some kind of instant connection between the two. You’re selfish.

“He’s scary,” Grim mutters once Malleus is gone.

“Grim!” Yūki looks at you apologetically.

“What?! I’m just telling the truth! The magic rolling off of him is intense!” The cat waves his paws around. “It’s suffocating! You might not be able to feel it henchhuman, but I can tell!”

“It’s alright. Malleus can seem rather intimidating, but he really isn’t. I promise he’s a gentle, kind soul,” you assure them with a laugh.

Yūki relaxes once more. “He obviously loves you very much,” they state while chewing on a macaron. You face warms. “He only has eyes for you,” they continue “and it seems the feelings are mutual…” A single eyebrow goes up.

Trying to hide your embarrassment, you take a long sip of tea. Clearing your throat, you can’t meet their amused eyes. “Well…yes, they are,” you say in a soft tone. You can’t lie about your feelings. “He has a good heart. We started off rocky, but we’re in a good place now.”

Yūki and Grim both glance at each other. You realize you’re probably smiling like a fool and quickly school your features as best as you can. You steer the conversation to a different topic.

Later, Diablo shows them to the guest room and you head back to your office. There’s still paperwork you need to finish. On your desk is some mail with many of them being letters from other foreign dignitaries. However, one letter causes your blood to run cold. You know that sharp but elegant script as you know the scars on your back.

Rarely have your parents sent letters. Slipping the letter opener under the envelope, you’re almost tempted to burn the letter without looking. But the fact that they sent a letter must mean something important. It’s only a single sheet with only three sentences. You blink a few times before setting down the paper. The page blurs as you feel your chest pounding and a distant, high pitched noise fills your ears.

Dearest child,

Your mother has passed. Come home so our country may mourn her. The funeral will be tomorrow.

Father

Before you can fully realize anything, the door to your office opens. Malleus steps inside with a concerned look in his gaze while holding a piece of paper. Breaking out of your daze, you zero in on the paper in his hand. It’s the same sharp writing. There’s nowhere to hide.

“My heart, I am so sorry,” he says, gently setting down the letter. You can see that your father wrote more to him in the letter. “Are you okay?”

He reaches out but pauses when he notices the look in your eyes. There’s a long pause before you find your voice. “I’m fine. Thank you…” You carefully take your own letter and fold it back into the envelope. “I should prepare to return…” you whisper.

Malleus gently takes your hand in his. “Take all the time you need. I know the mourning process can take time.”

Your heart aches at his kindness. But how can you tell him that you don’t want to go back? That you’re terrified of returning to a place that only holds bad memories? Malleus lost his parents, so he’s no stranger to loss. But you hold no sympathy for the woman who called herself your mother.

“I’ll inform Diablo. Finish up what you need here.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving to find the old butler.

You stand there for a moment. Your heavy breathing is the only sound that you can hear. You stumble your way out of the study. As everything fades in the background, childhood memories come back. Memories of a younger version huddling on the bed, knees draw close to her chest. Always shaking but never crying because it would only lead to further punishment.

A voice calls out as you stumble and fall forward. You hit the ground face first but you don’t register the impact. A hand comes into your lines of vision and you instinctively jerk away.

“Don’t…” you cry out weakly.

Suddenly Yūki’s face appeared into your field of vision. They say something but you don’t really hear. They move away for a bit and return with some water. They press the cup into your hands. They place a gentle hand on your back while rubbing slow circles. Your hands shake as you stare into the cup. As your breathing slows down, the pressure in your chest lessens. After a little longer, you take a slow sip.

“Your highness?” Yūki hesitantly calls to you in a soft tone.

Swallowing, you look around. Somehow, you stumbled your way to Yūki’s guestroom. “I…I’m sorry for barging in on you…” you apologize.

Yūki offers their hand and guides you to a chair. Setting the cup on the table, you sag back into the chair. “Just take your time,” they say, taking a seat as well.

Glancing around, you note that Grim isn’t anywhere to be seen. As if reading your mind, Yūki adds, “Grim went to grab a snack from the kitchen. He probably won’t be back for a while.”

You fiddle with your hands trying to find the words. You’re sure Yūki isn’t the type to gossip, so whatever you tell them would be safe. But should you be dumping your personal problems on someone who you’ve only met a few times?

“I don’t want to burden you with my personal problems…but would you be willing to listen?” The weight of everything has always been there, but you had ignored it. But with the arrival of the letter, you can’t ignore it anymore. Perhaps hearing the advice of someone from the outside would help.

Nodding, Yūki offers an encouraging smile. So you tell them everything. Well almost everything. You tell them about the past, your parents’ plan to take over Briar Valley using your unique magic, the fact that you’ve been lying to Malleus from the beginning, that they may have the one weapon that could kill Malleus. Every word out of your mouth feels like a release. Yūki listens without saying a word and keeping their facial expression straight.

Finally, you finish and it feels like you’ve been speaking for hours. Your throat feels dry, but the weight has been lessened. You wait for Yūki to respond. It’s a lot of information to be telling someone in one sitting.

Clearing their throat, their brows draw together. “Well…sorry but fuck that’s a lot!”

Your eyebrows go up as you stare at each other. Then, you start laughing. You both burst into laughter. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Yūki say something like that. Wiping away stray tears, you shake your head with a smile.

“Sorry for dumping all that on you. I think I just needed to tell someone.” You sigh. “I’ve been holding that in for so long, but it feels good to at least tell someone.”

They wave off your apology. “You’d be surprised how many of my friends I had to play therapist for. It’s nothing new.”

Despite the reassurance, you can see the slight sag in their shoulders. “Still, you shouldn’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m being a hypocrite since I just did the same thing, but I want you to know it’s okay to just turn away if something becomes too much. You don’t have to fix everyone’s problems.”

Looking away, Yūki chuckles softly. “You’re the first person to tell me that… Thank you.”

You want to tell them that you know about the things they have to go through in the story. But don’t because Yūki isn’t a character in Idia’s book. Despite starting out in what you understood to be a story, you’ve come to realize that the people you’ve interacted with are not characters. They’re people with their own emotions and wills.

Breathing in deeply, you flex your hands. “I’m going to tell Malleus everything. I think it’s time he knew the truth, and he can decide for himself what he wants to do.”

“That’s probably for the best. Lying usually ends up biting you in the ass later on.” You both laugh. “He clearly adores you. So, you just need to trust in him to understand.”

“Right.” You offer Yūki a wide smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

---

After a lively dinner thanks to Grim’s antics, you’re getting ready for bed. Malleus is already tucked in reading. Though you plan to tell him everything, you can’t help but move slowly. You had prepared a speech, but now you can’t remember a word.

Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, you regard Malleus. His shoulders are relaxed and his facial expression is almost serene. The stress from hosting his grandmother has all but disappeared. Your heart swells with affection for him. You want to live the rest of your life with him in peace and warmth. And the only way that it can happen is if you tell him the truth. Together you can figure out a way to take care of your parents.

Feeling your gaze, Malleus looks up. “My heart?” His head tilts to the side.

Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders. “Malleus, I need to tell you something.”

He closes the book, giving you his full attention. “Why don’t you come here and we can talk?”

Hesitating, you shake your head. “I want to stand. What I’m going to tell you will be a lot.” He nods.

As you tell him everything about your life and your parents’ plans, he doesn’t react at all. You pour out all your feelings and thoughts. As the words leave your mouth, you feel even lighter. A sense of relief washes over you as you finish. You wait in agonizing silence as Malleus remains quiet. His gaze is distant as he takes in everything.

Finally, he looks at you. He doesn’t say a word as he holds his arms out to you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you walk over to the bed. Climbing in the bed, he wraps his arms around your form and pulls you close to him.

You bury your face in his chest. You can only mutter apologizes as he holds your tight. He doesn’t say anything as you quietly sob. After what feels like an eternity, you seem to run out of tears. Your eyes are sore and puffy.

He kisses the top of your head. “Thank you for telling me the truth. It must have been difficult,” he mumbles. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Ear pressed against his chest, you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was too scared,” you admit. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” He gently wipes away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “However, I am upset. Very much so.”

His green eyes glow dangerously as he glances out the window. Dark clouds roll in and lightning strikes. “Should I go there myself?” he muses.

“Malleus…” Placing a hand against his cheek, you turn his head so he looks at you. “Don’t do anything rash. My father is to blame not the people of my country. You can’t just go in and wipe out the country.”

Frowning, he looks thoughtful before he smiles sharply. “How about I just kill him, my heart. Or I can give you the honor of doing that.”

Leaning against his chest, you shake your head. “He might have that weapon…”

“I’ll squish before he even has a chance to think about using it.”

“This would be considered a criminal act.”

“What your parents did to you and planned to do with me are criminal acts. I’m only ending this before it can lead to something worse.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you smile to yourself as you tighten your hold on Malleus. “Let’s talk about what to do tomorrow. But thank you for offering to help despite everything.”

“Of course. I would do anything for you.”

---

The next day you wake up feeling at peace. Malleus knows the truth and he still cares about you. You don’t have to go back to that place. Stretching, Malleus tightens his hold around your waste.

You still can’t believe that someone as regal as Malleus likes to cuddle. Most mornings you spend a few minutes trying to get out of his hold. He can be rather clingy first thing in the morning. It’s cute.

“We need to get up,” you say, trying to worm your way out of his hold. He hums before releasing you.

Malleus sits up as you find your slippers. You can feel his stare and quickly look up. He’s frowning with his brows pinched together. “What’s wrong?”

“Your scars…I didn’t realize…”

Right, you usually hide them long before he can see them. But last night’s confession had taken a lot out of both of you. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, Malleus.”

Eyes narrowing, he shakes his head. “I need to talk to Lilia about what we should do.” He pauses, his brow smooths as he regards you. “Can I tell him everything you told me?”

You hesitate for a second but agree. “Yes. You trust Lilia, so I’ll trust him too.” If you’re going to do this without blowing up an entire country, you’ll need help. And Lilia seems rather level-headed under all the teasing.

Malleus leans over to peck you on the cheek. “I’ll see him now. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m going to head to my office once I check up on Yūki and Grim.” You feel your mouth stretch into a goofy grin as he pulls away. You’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach when he kisses you will never go away.

Once you’re clean and dressed, you make your way to the guest room. Yūki and Grim are already out, though the feline looks half asleep. “Morning, you two.”

Yūki gives a short wave before a yawn overtakes them. They quickly cover their mouth. “Mornin’....”

“It’s too early to be up!” Grim grumbles.

You chuckle as he yawns. “I’m sure the cooks have prepared something tasty for breakfast.”

That perks him up. “What are we standing here for?! Let's go!” He rushes ahead as Yūki follows at a slower pace.

“So… is everything okay?” They give you a sideways glance.

“Yeah. He took it well.” You give a small nod. “Thank you for listening yesterday.”

“Of course.” They offer a reassuring smile. “I was also thinking about what you said yesterday…about not needing to fix everyone’s problems…”

“Yes?”

Chewing on their lower lip, they’re silent as you near the dining room. They relax a bit when Grim turns around to beckon for them to hurry up. “You’re right. I don’t need to fix everyone’s problems. I need to learn when to take a step back and say no. I’m going to work on that. I just wanted to let you know.”

“It might take a bit of practice, but it’s good you’re taking your own feelings and well-being into consideration.” Patting them on the back, you two share a look before they’re pulled away by Grim’s shouting.

A flash near the window catches your eye and your blood runs cold. “Your majesty?” Diablo calls to you, worry etched on his wizened face. He looks out but doesn’t react. “Is something the matter?”

“D-did you see him?” you ask, your hands curl into fists.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I did not see anything. Should I have the guards take a look?”

You pause. You don’t want to cause a scene if it’s nothing. But you also wouldn’t put it past your father to show up uninvited to drag you home. “Yes, have someone take a look. If they find Duke Wynters, please send him away.”

Without further explanation, Diablo leaves. You let out a deep breath. It could just be your own fears playing tricks on you. Joining Grim and Yūki for breakfast, you try your best to forget about it.

However, after breakfast Diablo reports that the guards did not find anyone. Not even a trace of magic. Despite that, you’re still on edge as you head to your office. Hand hovering over the door knob, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Grasping the handle, you throw open the door to your study with a bang.

There’s no one inside. Everything is in its usual place. You let out another deep breath and shake your head. Taking a seat, you take the nearest stack of papers to start work. You throw the stack across the room as if burned.

The letter that you had burned flutters to the floor. You jump up. “Diab-!”

A cold hand clamps down on your arm. “Don’t.” Duke Wynter’s grip is strong despite his age. Old memories hold you in place as fear settles in.

“You know, I was so disappointed when you didn’t come home for your own mother’s funeral. Tsk…” His voice is calm, but you know better.

“H-how did you-” You hate that your voice shakes.

“Get in here? There are things magic artifacts can do that can even trick a mighty dragon.” He snorts. “Now, we’re going home. And I’m sure your dear husband will follow.” He bares his teeth in a ruthless smile.

Duke Wynters pulls a small pocket mirror from his breast pocket. He tosses it out and it expands into a full length mirror. A disembodied face stares back at you. “Take us back home, Mirror,” he orders.

“As you command,” the mirror murmurs. The surface of the mirror ripples and slowly changes until it shows the image of the manor. Gripping your arm tightly, he drags you toward it.

You don’t want to go, but fear grips your body. So, you let your panic swell along with your magic. The room becomes so cold you can see your own breath. Your vision blurs as Duke Wynters screams and something explodes.

Then everything goes black.

---

Malleus sends the doors of the study flying off. The entire study has been destroyed. The windows have been blown out and a thick layer of ice coats everything. His breath comes out in small puffs of fog.

He shouts your name. The frozen chandelier shakes.

Lilia places a hand on his arm. “They’re gone. Most likely back to his home. We need to leave now if we want to catch up to them.”

Turning to Sebek and Silver, Lilia gives them both a hard look. “Malleus and I will go after the queen. You both stay here and make sure everything is okay.”

They both give him a salute. “Please take care, father,” Silver says, forgoing the formalities.

“Stay safe, your majesty!” Sebek bows deeply to Malleus.

The two fae give one last nod before they vanish.

Standing at the entrance to your home, it’s oddly quiet and deserted. Dark, gloomy clouds loom threateningly in the distance. For a brief moment Malleus wishes he could have seen you during your childhood. But that thought quickly fades as he remembers the scars that criss-cross your back. Bitterness fills his mouth and anger boils to the surface.

The front gate is locked, but he simply blows it away with a snap of his fingers. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Lilia gives Malleus a reassuring squeeze. “Everything is going to be okay. But…maybe we shouldn’t destroy everything.”

There’s a beat of silence before Malleus calms himself, though his fists remain clenched. “Let’s head inside.”

They enter the home but there’s still not a soul to be found. There’s an eeriness to the dead silence. Passing rooms, there’s evidence of the occupants hastily leaving. The two fae follow the strong presence of magic. They enter an outdoor courtyard though it looks like it’s seen better days.

There in the middle sits a figure slumped over. Malleus’s eyes widen as he rushes over calling your name. However, he’s stopped by another voice. “I’m so glad you could come, your majesty.” Duke Wynters stands on a balcony that overlooks the courtyard. Malleus notes he seems to favor his left side. Small flecks of ice cling to his tattered coat sleeve.

Clenching his teeth, his hands itch to burn him without thought. But the smug look on the man’s face makes him cautious. He has something up his sleeve if he can confidently speak down to two powerful fae.

“Let her go,” he orders. “And I will make your death a merciful one.”

The duke cackles. He gestures to the still slumped over figure. “Unfortunately, I cannot give you my dear daughter unless you’re willing to make a deal.”

His eyes burn with disgust. “Or I could just kill you right now.”

“You could. But then you’d also be killing her.” Duke Wynters raises both hands and starts moving his fingers. Now, Malleus can see what’s going on. Thin strings of magic are connected to each of the duke’s fingers. And they’re attached to you.

Your body suddenly moves. You jerkily raise your head and stand up. You're holding a dagger in one hand. Like a puppet, you mechanically point the blade at him. The strange crimson metal gleams under the low light. However, Malleus can see the pain and panic in your eyes. Despite your body being controlled, you’re fully conscious of what’s going on.

The duke continues, “You see, my unique magic allows me to control a person’s body like a marionette. However, my life and their life are connected until I end the magic. I believe you’re a smart one, you understand what I’m saying.” He grins sharply.

“What do you want?” Malleus finally asks.

The man chuckles. “All you need to do is to take her place. Call off your man and promise no harm shall come to me. In return, I’ll release your beloved.”

“How can I guarantee that once I die, you’ll keep your word?”

“Malleus I don-” Lilia is cut off with a look.

The duke sighs. “Honestly, you should have more faith in your father-in-law. But I will make a magic oath with you.”

Malleus doesn’t hesitate. “I accept.”

A wide, crazed grin forms on the duke’s face. “I knew you’d make the smart choice!”

“Malleus!” Lilia protests. “Don’t do this!”

“What choice do I have, Lilia?” Tears are streaming down your face. “If I don’t do this, she’ll die. And if she’s gone, I…I might as well be dead.”

The older fae can’t find any words. Of course he wants the queen back. But if Briar Valley loses their king, he’s not sure what will happen. However, Lilia can’t think of a way out of this. If what the duke told them of his unique magic is true, then they can’t kill him without killing you. And even if it might not be true, Malleus isn’t the type to take that sort of gamble. Not with you on the line.

Duke Wynters sighs. “This could have all been avoided if my dear stupid child had followed the plan. Instead she goes and falls in love with you.” Clucking his tongue, he shakes his head with feigned sadness. “That blade she’s holding is special. We spent so much time and resources looking for something that could kill such a powerful creature like you. The blade is cursed so that no wound made with it can be healed with magic or potions.”

Suddenly you start to jerkily walk toward Malleus while wielding the blade. The fear in your eyes shines brightly as you hold the blade inches from where his heart is. Your hand shakes.

Malleus meets your gaze. He had vowed to never make you unhappy, but it seems he’s unable to keep that promise. Reaching out, he cups your face and brushes away the tears. “Do not worry, my heart, everything will be okay.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he can feel the blade’s point press into him. He closes his eyes.

“NO!” The shout that breaks through the tense silence chills him to the bone. Eyes opening, he only briefly sees you smiling through your tears with the blade plunged deep into your chest. You crumble to the ground.

The duke lets out a horrified scream that turns into a choke gurgle. He clutches at his chest as he loses his balance. He falls forward and plummets from the balcony. His body hits the ground with a sickening crunch.

However, Malleus is preoccupied with the blood that seeps from your body. Holding you close to him, he attempts to use magic on the wound. He ignores the blood that soaks into his clothes. But the blade only seems to absorb it. He mutters an apology as he pulls the blade out and attempts to heal the wound. Still nothing happens.

His voice cracks, “Lilia, what do I do?!” For the first time, Malleus is powerless.

Lilia shakes his head. “I don’t know…”

Your eyes flutter open. You attempt to touch him but you have no energy, so your hand falls uselessly aside. Malleus cradles your body. “Don’t leave me! Please!”

Your eyes glaze over. “No!” Malleus screams your name, but you don’t move. Dark clouds block out the sky and the wind howls outside as green lightning flashes.

A loud, mournful roar shakes the very earth.

---

You wake to bright fluorescent lights and the sound of a steady beeping noise. There’s also the familiar music of Idia’s favorite idol game playing. Turning your head to the sound, you spot Idia sitting in a chair with his eyes glued to his phone. It’s strange seeing him. Your head feels like mush as you try to gather your thoughts. Your heart throbs painfully for a moment before the feeling fades.

“Idia?” you call him.

He looks up from his screen, eyes widening. “You’re finally awake!”

Trying to piece together the last thing you remember, you ask, “What’s going on?”

“You fell down the stairs to the subway.” He pauses his game. “The doctors said you might be confused. Do you still remember everything?”

Sitting up, you glance at the clock on the wall with a slow nod. “How long was I out?”

“About a day.”

Touching the back of your head, you wince. “Are you sure? I swear it feels like I’ve been asleep for a long time.”

“Yup. You left me a message yesterday. By the way, it’s not a cringe book! Only noobs like you would think that,” he scoffs.

“Book?” Your head feels like a jumbled mess.

He rummages through his backpack before pulling out a familiar book. “The one I lent you. ‘Melting the Dragon King’s Heart’ is a heartfelt strangers-to-friends-to-lovers royal romance! It has everything you could ask for! Evil queen, hot dragon fae, spunky protagonist and a talking cat!”

You take the book from him. Frowning, you stare at the cover. The dragon king looks like a generic dark haired man. Yet, it looks wrong. “Are you sure he always looked like this?”

“What’s wrong with the way Malford looks?” You can see the annoyance in his face.

“Malford? Are you sure that’s his name?” You point to the cover. “I swear he looked different…”

Idia shrugs. “The dragon king is Malford Drago. He’s always looked like that. Yeesh! I know you didn’t like the story but at least pay attention to the main leads.”

When trying to remember, your head throbs painfully. Letting out a deep sigh, you fall back into the pillow. “Maybe I did hit my head harder than I thought…”

Glancing at the time, India starts packing up. “Visiting hours are almost over. I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake and come back tomorrow. Do you want me to bring anything for you?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Idia.” Smiling briefly, you close your eyes as you suddenly feel tired. Even as you drift off again, you feel like something’s missing.

---

A month after your fall down the subway stairs, you’re darting across the street. Dodging cars and people, you shout into the phone pressed to your ear. “I’ll be there in a few hours, Idia! I promise! I just forgot to grab some food.”

“I have food,” he grumbles. You can hear battle music in the background.

“You have cavity-inducing candy! I need real food!” You skillfully weave your way through the people. “The raid can wait, my stomach can’t. I’ll text you when I’m heading over.” You end the call before Idia can argue further.

Despite going back to your usual routine, something feels off. The doctor had reassured you that you might feel a bit confused, but that you would be fine. You feel like something is missing. When you’re sleeping, you have such vivid dreams. Yet, when you wake up, you can’t recall anything and there’s a painful throbbing in your chest. When you checked with your doctor, they just passed it off as part of your body’s response to the accident. You tried your best to ignore it since then.

Pausing, you realize you’re standing near the subway. The same place where you fell because you weren’t paying attention. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you carefully descend down the stairs. You’re only halfway down when someone bumps into you.

“Hey!” The perpetrator rushes down without looking back.

Grumbling under your breath, you take a step. But your foot misses. You briefly wonder what Idia will say when he finds out you're in the hospital again. However, the fall never comes because the person coming up the stairs reaches out to save you.

Pressed against them, you meet familiar green eyes. They’re wide with surprise. “Are you okay?” Something about the voice sends a spark through your body. You know that voice.

Righting yourself, you frantically nod. “Y-yes! Thank you!”

He smiles. “Of course.” He pauses, brows furrowing. “You’re the one from before.”

“Huh?” You’re pretty sure you’ve never met despite the strange feeling.

He nods. “Yes, I remember. You fell down the stairs a few weeks ago. I tried to catch you but unfortunately didn't make it. I’m glad to see you’re okay, though.”

So he was the voice that called to you when you fell. “I…thank you for catching me this time. I should be more careful.”

When he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Maybe keep both eyes forward. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt again.”

“…” You don’t know what else to say. He’s breathtakingly beautiful and even more so when he smiles. His sharp green eyes are warm when they meet your gaze. You’re usually not the type to fall for a pretty face, but you can’t deny the instant attraction.

He seems to take your silence as the end of the conversation. “It’s nice to see you again. I hope you stay safe.” He nods before heading upstairs.

You stand there on the step frozen. The further he gets, the more your heart aches. Why? Touching your chest, you bite the inside of your cheek. Taking a deep breath, you rush back up. Looking around frantically, you see him already halfway down the street.

“W-wait!” you shout. Phone pressed to his ear, he turns with a slight frown, but his expression softens when he sees you.

You rush across the street, nearly getting hit by a car. They honk loudly while yelling unintelligible out the window. Ignoring them, you rush to him. Trying to calm your erratic heart, you take a deep breath.

“Let me call you back, Lilia,” you hear him say into the phone before ending the call and tucking the phone into his pocket. “Are you okay?” he asks, a single eyebrow raised.

You nod. “I-I wanted to ask if you’d like to grab a drink with me if you’re not busy. To thank you for saving me.” Yes, that sounds like a valid excuse. And it's not like Idia expects you anytime soon.

He tilts his head to the side. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You swallow nervously. “If you want to, that is…”

He regards you silently before agreeing. “I’d love to.”

Beaming, you hold out your hand. “Great. I’m (Y/N).”

When he takes your hand to shake, butterflies fill your stomach. He eyes your clasped hands with interest. “I’m Malleus,” he replies.

You stand there like an idiot still holding his hand. But he doesn’t seem to want to let go either. Your heart feels full and for the first time since the accident, the pain is no longer there.

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #reader insert #scenario

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